The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds (Clans of Mull #3)

Maitland

Maitland strode into the great hall with wee Grant tied to his chest, facing out, while he held Maeve’s hand. He’d never known such joy as he’d experienced since he’d married Maeve, the exhilaration of holding their son in his arms, something that had brought him to tears on more than one occasion. And the lad’s smile was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

After many discussions, they’d decided to call the lad Grant. Maeve couldn’t call him Alex because it reminded her of her father. Sandor was already taken. Their last choice was either Graham or Grant, and they both preferred Grant.

Maitland had been married once before, had thought to have a child one day, but he and his wife had been kidnapped and held in a dungeon by the English, both beaten, but the true torture was when he’d been separated from her by a stone wall, not thick enough to prevent him from hearing her cries of pain as she delivered their bairn, both dying within an hour.