M acAlester Keep
Spring 1786
Scottish Highlands
“She is asking for ye,” Mrs. Robeson said from the doorway of the solar. The worry in her voice and the way she kept wringing her hands in her apron deepened the terror already simmering in Grant’s gut.
He shot a tortured look at Henry and Lachie, who paced alongside him. “I have heard no cries. Did ye hear any cries?”
Henry avoided his gaze, then shook his head. “Nay. No cries.”
“Lachie?” Grant willed the man to give him hope.
Lachie turned away and stared at the floor. “No, my brother. No cries.”
Old Griselda burst into the room, shaking her bony fist. “The goddess wants ye at her side. Are ye such a coward that ye would refuse her when she fights to bring forth yer bairns?”
Ashamed that he had hesitated in Jessa’s time of need, Grant charged out of the room, crossed the hall, and entered the suffocating darkness of the bedchamber. “Jessa—I am here.”
“Will you please make them leave that freaking window open? I cannot breathe with it shut, and they’re fighting me on everything!”
“Do as she says,” he told the shadowy figure by the window, who could either be Molly, Jessa’s personal maid, or some other servant. The room was too dark to tell. “’Tis hotter than the seventh level of hell in here and too feckin’ dark. Ye know yer mistress hates the darkness.” He was none too fond of it himself. Neither of them tolerated a darkened room all that well ever since their time in Morrigan’s ravine.
“Too much air and brightness are bad for the babes, my laird,” Mrs. Robeson said. “The wind still has a bite of winter’s touch to it.”
“I’ll open the damn window myself, then. Again.” Jessa snarled and hissed like a cornered animal fighting to escape a snare as she floundered across the bed. Huge with the children she had yet to bring forth, she roared with frustration.
“Nay, love. I shall open it.” Grant sprang across the room, ripped open the heavy curtains, and pushed the panes open wide. A hearty gust of sweet, damp air whooshed into the room along with the blessed softness of light from the rising sun. He turned from the window and pointed at each of the wide-eyed women who had refused to listen to his beloved wife. “Ye will always obey her. Always. Is that understood?”
Mrs. Robeson, Griselda, Molly, and the MacAlester Crag midwife bowed their heads and shifted in place like bairns caught misbehaving. The midwife inched forward and dared to settle a glare on him. “We ken well enough what to do for the safety of the mother and the wee ones. We protect them, my laird. Would ye have us do that which we know to be wrong?”
Jessa wallowed her way off the bed, holding her swollen middle with one hand and her lower back with the other. “I know what my body tells me is right. You will listen to what I know is best for me and mine, or you can haul your ass out of this room and never return. Got it?”
Grant caught her and steadied her as she doubled over and groaned. “Lore a’mighty, love. Should ye be out of the bed?”
“Don’t you start. Walking makes me feel better, and I think it moves things along.” She curled against him, burying her face in his chest with another loud groan. “And for the record, we are never having sex again.”
He glared at the gloating women across the room while praying his overwrought wife would change her mind about that once she had healed from having the wee ones.
“Light more candles,” he told them, barking the orders so loud they jumped. “Ye know she hates the shadows.”
They hurried to light every lamp and candle in the room as he helped Jessa slowly walk back and forth beside the bed.
“I don’t know how long this is going to work,” Jessa told him as she halted for another pain and dug her fingernails even deeper into his arm. “I feel like they’re hanging down to my knees.”
“Aye, well—” He didn’t know what to say. Men did not belong in this sort of chaos. “If one comes out, I’ll be sure to catch it.”
She stopped walking, leaned against him, and laughed. “Good. I may take you up on that.”
Lore a’mighty, he hoped not. While he’d helped deliver foals, calves, and lambs, the complicated process of a bairn coming into the world was better left to the women. But he didn’t tell her that. She needed him here, and by heavens, here he would stay. He nodded at Molly. “Fetch a cool cloth for yer mistress’s face. ’Twill give her some ease.”
“I cannot stand this much longer,” Jessa said, leaning heavier against him and breathing harder. “These babies have got to come out soon.” She shoved at the damp curls stuck to her face and started to cry. “I would kill for an epidural.”
He had no idea what an epidural was and wasn’t about to ask.
“We put a knife under the bed to cut the pain,” Mrs. Robeson said. “It canna help ye if ye walk, m’lady.”
“And I told you that was superstitious bullshit!” Jessa growled through her clenched teeth, hanging onto Grant while leaning forward. After a long, pained groan, she jerked on his arms. “Are you ready to catch one?”
“What?”
She squatted lower. “A baby is coming out. Catch it. Now!”
He dropped to her feet, rent her shift in two, and caught the squirming, dark-haired being in his trembling hands. “Lore a’mighty. Lore a’mighty.” It was all he could say, awestruck by the slippery, red-faced babe. “Why is he not crying? What is wrong?”
“Is he all right?” Jessa clutched the side of the bed, twisting to see the child.
“Give him to me,” the midwife said, lifting the wee one out of his grasp. The wriggling mite squalled with rage, making the old woman laugh. “Aye, his wee lordship doesna like my cold hands. None of them do. They always cry good for me and clear their bodies of the fluids.”
Jessa groaned and pressed her forehead against the side of the bed. “Grant! Another one’s coming.”
Better prepared this time, Grant deftly caught his second son, laughing when the tiny wriggling beast fussed at him. “Aye, my wee lad. Tell me all about it.”
“Hand this one to me,” Mrs. Robeson said, a linen held between her hands. “I’ll tend to our angry wee laddie whilst ye help our lady into the bed so we can see to her needs and make her more comfortable.”
Bursting with joy, he rose and laid his hands on the beloved woman who had just blessed him with two healthy sons. “Come, m’love. Let me help ye into the bed. Ye’ve battled hard and heavy. Time to rest.”
With her fists knotted in the bedclothes and her face still pressed against the bed’s edge, she shook her head. “No. I don’t think we’re done. Another one’s coming.”
Awestruck, Grant stared at her as she bore down as she’d done twice before, then turned to the midwife for an answer.
The old woman waved away the words and whispered, “’Tis the afterbirth, my laird. They sometimes think it’s another because their body works to push it out.”
“Grant!” Jessa squatted even more, reached down, then steadied herself as she carefully pulled the babe from its birth into her arms. “I knew you were there,” she told the precious child, holding the baby to her chest as she rocked to her haunches and leaned against the bed. She looked up and narrowed her eyes at all in the room. “Never ignore what I say ever again unless you want to be banished.” She focused her anger on Grant. “That especially goes for you.”
“But the goddesses said there were only two.” He cringed at the weakness of his excuse for not listening to her. “I am sorry, Jessa. Never again will I ever take anyone’s word over yers. Please forgive me.” He crouched beside her and risked caressing her cheek. “Please?”
Her glare softened, as did the hard line of her jaw. “Always believe me. Okay?”
“Always,” he promised, then cupped the babe’s tiny head. “I canna believe we have three sons.”
Jessa grinned. “We don’t. We have two sons and a daughter.”
“A wee lassie?”
“A wee lassie to make sure her brothers toe the line.” Jessa reluctantly handed the baby girl off to Molly, then accepted Grant’s hand and allowed him to help her back into the bed.
He noted she didn’t seem at all surprised about their third child. “Ye knew about her.”
As she sagged back into the pillows, she gave him a wan smile. “I had a feeling but didn’t know for sure, and I had no idea whether number three was a boy or a girl.”
He sat on the bed beside her, his heart so full he couldn’t speak.
She arched a brow at him. “What?”
“I canna begin to tell ye how relieved I am that all of ye are well. I am blessed beyond my wildest imaginings.” He smoothed her damp hair back from her face and kissed her. “Thank ye, my own. For staying with me. Loving me. Putting up with me and giving me three braw children.”
She rested a hand on his cheek and gave him a weary smile that made her eyes sparkle. “Thank you for the same.”
“M’lady?” Molly said with understandable wariness.
Jessa looked her way.
“If it be to yer liking for the laird to step out, we’ll be making ye more comfortable so ye can put the wee ones to yer breast.” The maid glanced back at Mrs. Robison, Griselda, and the midwife as if they had chosen her as the unlucky one to speak. “And with three, we’ll need to be sending for a wet nurse, ye ken? To help make sure the wee ones have all the milk they need.”
Grant hoped Jessa would agree to the help of a wet nurse, but he wasn’t about to push her on it. Not after his grave error from earlier. He leaned forward and kissed her again. “Let them care for ye, my love. I’ll be in the solar, telling Henry and Lachie the news.”
“You remember the names we picked for the boys?”
“Lucian for the firstborn. Kiran for his brother. But what about our daughter? We nay had Emily search her inter—world for a girl’s name that means light.”
“ Internet ,” Jessa said with an indulgent giggle, “and I had her search for one just in case. Meira means bringer of light.”
“ Internet ,” Grant repeated, trying to commit the term to memory. He would never remember Jessa’s strange words. He shook away the unimportant thought and tried the name, “Lady Meira MacAlester, daughter of the Earl of Suddie.” He nodded. “A fine name. So be it.” He cradled her face and kissed her again. “And ye’ll let them fetch the wet nurse to help ye? Please? I fear if ye dinna accept help that weariness will make ye fall ill.”
“As long as the wet nurse is a loving woman. I will have no unkindness around my babies.”
“That goes without saying, love.” He tipped a nod at Molly.
She gave him what appeared to be a very grateful curtsy, then hurried out to send for the woman.
He held tight to Jessa’s hand, unwilling to leave her side. “Ye are the greatest warrior that ever was, m’love. What ye went through to bring our children into this world.” He slowly shook his head, his throat closing off with the fullness of his emotions.
Her cheeks flared a brighter shade of red. “I’m not the first woman to give birth.”
“Ye are the first and only woman to give my bairns life.”
From the foot of the bed, Mrs. Robeson cleared her throat. “Off wi’ ye, my laird. Our lady needs cleaning up, and yer children need her to feed them.”
“You better go,” Jessa told him softly with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “Go tell Henry and Lachie they’ve got three little warriors to train.”
“Three?” Grant sat taller. “No daughter of mine will ever have to fight.”
“We will discuss that later,” Jessa said with a look that told him he had already lost that battle.
Ah, well. He didn’t care. Much. He rose and leaned over for another kiss. “I love ye, my own.”
“I love you more.”