Page 51 of Sighs of the Highland Wind

Maxwell allowed himself to be led downstairs into the small parlor that he and Kenna often used. He sat down and waited while Effie called a chambermaid to light the fire. Thankfully, he could no longer hear Kenna’s screams from this part of the castle, but he knew she was still in agony anyway.

Presently, a tray of cold food and a cup of ale arrived for him, and he sat at the table to eat but found that he could not manage even a morsel.

“Master, try an’ eat just a wee bit,” Effie urged. “I promise ye will feel better. Would a glass o’ wine help?”

“Yes,” Maxwell said thankfully.

Effie brought him a bottle and a glass, then poured it for him and made to leave, but he stopped her.

“Stay a moment, Effie. I don’t want to be alone. Sit down and pour yourself a glass too.”

Effie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she obeyed, then watched while Maxwell ate, slowly clearing his plate until it was empty. She felt infinitely sorry for him. He was not like many of the upper-class people she knew, who were aloof and standoffish. Perhaps it was because of the hardships he had suffered, she thought, or perhaps it was simply who he was.

Suddenly he looked up and smiled at her. “Thank you for your good advice, Effie. I do feel much better now. Do you like the wine?”

“Indeed I do, Master,” she replied, smiling at him. “I have never tasted wine before, an’ it is lovely.”

“I will be sending a few dozen bottles for all of you to share when the baby is born,” he said, standing up. “Now I must go. Thank you so much, Effie.”

He turned and strode away, leaving Effie by herself.

She followed him with her eyes, thinking what a kind man he was.

Halfway up the stairs, Maxwell heard a beautiful sound: the heartbreaking first cry of a newborn baby. His heart skipped a beat, and he doubled his speed as he fairly leaped upstairs, taking them two at a time, then sprinting along the corridor. Finally, he arrived in front of the door of the room where his wife and child were. He tried the door handle, but it would not open, then he banged on the door with his closed fist.

“Let me in!” he roared.

Inside, Kenna was still recovering. The midwife’s young assistant had taken the baby away to wash it, and Mistress Kane was busy washing Kenna and tidying her up.

Kenna sat up, alarmed, as she heard the din Maxwell was making outside, but the midwife merely shook her head and sighed.

“I have heard it a’ before, hen. They are a’ big babies themselves. Let him wait ’til ye are clean an’ tidy.”

Kenna continued to submit to Mistress Kane’s ministrations while listening to the racket outside.

“He will kick the door in,” she said fearfully, frowning.

The midwife made a shooing motion with her hand.

“Let him try!” she said grimly. “They are a’ wee lads inside. I have faced down bigger men than him.”

Looking into the midwife’s fierce brown eyes, Kenna could well believe it.

A few moments later she was fresh and clean, then the baby was put into her arms. She looked down at the little face, which was red and indignant at having been pulled out of its warm dark home, and her heart filled to overflowing with love.

Just then, the midwife opened the door and a great, angry, bearded man stumbled in, wearing a fierce frown, which lifted as soon as he saw Kenna sitting on the bed with his child in her arms. Suddenly he was lost for words, mesmerized by the sight of them.

“Oh, God!” he exclaimed at last. “Kenna, are you all right? Is the baby well?”

Kenna chuckled. “Yes, Max. Your daughter is well.”

“A little girl?” Maxwell looked down into the tiny face, and his eyes were filled with tears. “I love her already,” he whispered. He kissed the tiny forehead, then Kenna’s lips. “My two lovely girls.”

He gently took the baby from Kenna’s arms and gathered her into his own, tucking her into the crook of his elbow.

“She looks like you,” he murmured.

“It is a little early to tell,” she remarked, chuckling. “What shall we call her?”