Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,46
in return, “but the mother of the future Laird Oliphant.”
“Fook me,” Kiergan blurted, snapping upright. “I have a son.”
From somewhere under Kat’s skirts, Graham called out, “Hello, welcome to the party. Ye’re a little late.”
Davina chuckled. “Ye did it!”
“Nay,” Katlyn sighed softly, her voice weak even as she shifted her son in order for him to obtain a better latch. “Graham did it. He saved us both.”
“Ye did the hard work,” Graham called out. “I was just here for the ending.”
“Fair enough,” muttered Kiergan. “Because I felt bloody useless.”
Grinning, Davina cupped her nephew’s bum. “Ye have a son, Kier, which means ye’ll be the next Laird Oliphant.” She kissed her sister’s cheek as she stroked the bairn’s back. “And ye’ll be Lady Oliphant.”
Serious now, Graham rose just enough to hold their gazes. “And the clan will be blessed to have such fine leaders.”
From somewhere down the corridor, a lusty cry rang out, the cry of a newborn. ‘Twas followed by Rocque’s booming shout of joy, and Merewyn’s relieved laughter.
The Oliphants had another bairn to be thankful for.
“Aye,” Davina whispered, catching Graham’s gaze with a grin. “We’re blessed, indeed.”
Chapter 12
It was barely past noon, but Graham felt as if he’d aged five years since he’d awoken with Vina in his arms. She looked just as exhausted as he felt, but when he glanced at her, right outside of her chambers, she offered him a faint smile.
In response, he slipped his hand into hers. “Are ye aright?” he whispered.
“I should be asking ye that.” She shook her head. “I cannae believe all ye’ve accomplished this morning. Saving my grandfather and Lady Agatha, then bringing our nephew into the world.” Her smile flashed brightly, gone too soon. “And even Merewyn overcame her stubbornness to allow ye to see to her after her son’s birth.”
His own lips twitched, remembering how bossy the midwife had been, insisting he meet her exact expectations. “One thing is for certes; I’ve learned more about childbirth in the last day than I ever expected.”
Her fingers tightened around his. “Thank ye for being here, my love.”
Lifting her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her fingers. “I will thank all the saints in Heaven for allowing me to be here now.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“Are ye certain ye’d rather no’ just go have a rest while I see to my patients?”
“Nay.” Suddenly, she snorted softly. “My grandfather’s likely to be a bear after his morning adventure. And besides, there’s naewhere to lie down! Merewyn and the bairn are in yer room, and mine is occupied.”
When she nodded toward her door, he had to concede. “Well then, ye might as well come with me.” He knocked sharply on the door and pushed it open, holding it so she could step through as well.
Agatha lay on the bed, sleeping. From a chair by the window, Laird Angus MacKinnon sat watching her, his head swathed in linen. His gaze snapped to them when they entered, then dropped to their joined hands. Graham had to fight down the instinct to release her, reminding himself he’d done nothing wrong.
Nay, MacKinnon had.
Pulling Davina further into the room, he shut the door and squeezed her fingers once. Figuring enough time had passed and he’d made his point, he pulled his hand from hers and crossed to the bed to check on his great-aunt.
When he pressed his ear to her chest, he was pleased her breathing was steady, if shallow.
“Has she awakened?” he asked distractedly, not really expecting an answer.
But from his chair, Laird MacKinnon grumbled, “A few times. Complained about her chest hurting, and I made her drink water.”
“Good,” Graham muttered. “ ’Twill help her throat. The chest pain is likely my fault—I was enthusiastic with my compressions.” But she was alive, so he would happily deal with the complications. “She’s breathing well, although I’ll no’ rejoice ‘til she’s upright and beating us with her cane again.”
It took a moment to realize the dry chuckle behind him had come from the laird.
Blinking back the surprise, Graham focused on his great-aunt, counting her heartbeats and checking the pulse in her wrist. Dimly, he heard Davina murmuring something to her grandfather, but it wasn’t until she raised her voice that he began to pay attention.
“How could ye do such a thing, Grandda? Graham told me ye admitted to intercepting our letters!”
The old man grumbled, “How could I no’? Ye were openly defying me, lassie.”
“No’ openly,” she huffed. “I didnae even ken ye cared who I wrote to.”
“A good