Chapter 18 #2
Footsteps thundered down the corridor.
A woman appeared, breathless, cloak thrown back, hair pinned tight. The healer. Older than Ariella, eyes sharp, cheeks flushed from rushing.
Maxwell stood at once. “Ye are late.”
The healer did not bow. She only pushed past him with the authority of someone who answered to life and death, not lairds. “Move.”
She reached the door, paused, and looked Maxwell up and down. “Yer lady is inside.”
“Aye.”
“She’s doing well,” the healer said briskly. “I heard her voice down the hall. Calm. Firm. That is nae a woman flailing.”
Maxwell’s throat tightened. “She is capable.”
“Aye,” the healer agreed, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “More capable than half the women I’ve met who claim knowledge.”
Then she opened the door and slipped inside.
The door shut again.
Callum lunged toward it. Maxwell caught his arm, holding him back.
“Ye’ll go in when ye’re allowed,” Maxwell said.
Callum’s shoulders shook. “I need to see her.”
“And she needs ye calm,” Maxwell replied. “Sit.”
Callum did not sit. He leaned against the wall like a man ready to slide to the floor.
Ewan crawled closer to Maxwell without meaning to, pressing his shoulder lightly into Maxwell’s leg seeking comfort. Maxwell did not move away.
Minutes stretched.
Time became a thing made of sound. Mairi’s cry. Moira’s command. The healer’s low murmurs. Ariella’s voice, steady as a drumbeat.
Maxwell stared at the door until his eyes ached.
Callum whispered, “She’s screaming.”
Maxwell’s jaw flexed. “Aye.”
Ewan clutched his knee. “Da’s going to faint.”
“I am nae,” Callum hissed, then swayed slightly.
Maxwell braced him by the shoulder without ceremony. “If ye faint, I will drag ye to the yard and let the dogs lick ye awake.”
Callum gave a strangled laugh that sounded like a sob.
Then everything changed.
A new sound cut through the air. High. Sharp. Alive.
A baby’s cry.
Callum made a noise that was not a single word. His knees nearly gave out.
Ewan gasped. “The baby.”
Maxwell felt something inside him release, as if he had been holding a breath he did not realize he’d taken.
The baby cried again, furious and strong.
Relief washed down the corridor like warm water.
Callum pressed both hands to his face. “Oh, thank God.”
Ewan scrambled up, hopping on one foot, excitement replacing fear. “Is it a boy? Is it a girl?”
Maxwell did not answer. He could not. His throat was tight, and he did not trust his voice.
The door opened.
Moira appeared first, hair wild, face flushed, eyes bright with triumph. She pointed at Callum like he was a criminal. “If ye fainted, I would have ye hanged by the buttresses by yer toes!”
Callum stumbled forward. “Where’s me Mairi?”
Moira stepped aside. “Go. She’s asking for ye.”
Callum rushed inside.
Maxwell took one step toward the door, then hesitated. He did not belong in that room. Not in the world of women and blood and birth. Not in the space where pain turned into life.
Then the healer looked out, eyes steady. “Me laird, ye may enter. Quietly.”
Maxwell nodded once and stepped in.
The bedchamber looked transformed. Cloths piled on a chair. A basin stained. Candles burning low. Sweat and iron in the air. The hearth roaring like it had been fed with the sun itself.
Mairi lay back against pillows, face pale but glowing with exhaustion, her hair damp and tangled. Callum was already at her side, clutching her hand, kissing her forehead, then her hair, whispering words Maxwell could not hear.
“Ye did it, mo chridhe,” Callum breathed. “Ye did it.”
Mairi’s mouth curved weakly. “Aye. And I’ll remind ye of it for the rest of yer life.”
Callum laughed and sobbed at once.
Ariella sat on the edge of the bed, her sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed, cheeks flushed from heat and effort. She held a small bundle wrapped in cloth, cradled close to her chest.
The newborn.
Ariella glanced up as Maxwell entered.
For a moment, she looked like she had just stepped out of another world. A world where she belonged so naturally it startled him. Her eyes were bright. Her mouth soft. There was blood on her hands and strength in her posture.
She lifted the blanket slightly for Callum, showing the tiny face beneath.
The baby cooed.
A small sound, softer than the cries outside, like a breath learning itself.
Maxwell stopped.
His chest tightened so suddenly he felt as if he had been struck.
Ariella’s face softened as she looked down at the child. She adjusted the cloth with care, hands gentle, protective. She rocked the baby slightly, not even thinking, as if her body already knew how.
And she was glowing.
Not with vanity or pride, but warmth.
Maxwell’s mind went blank.
This was what it could look like.
His wife holding a child. His wife moving through a room like she was made for it. His wife with that softness in her eyes, that steadiness in her hands.
Something inside him cracked. Quietly. Privately. Like stone splitting under slow pressure.
The sight was not unwelcome.
That was the trouble.
It was beautiful.
And it was something he had promised himself would never be theirs.
Callum reached for the baby with trembling hands. Ariella guided him, placing the bundle carefully into his arms as if handing over something sacred.
Callum stared down, stunned. “Hello,” he whispered, voice breaking.
Mairi watched them both, eyes shining. “Daenae drop her, ye great ox.”
Callum choked a laugh. “I willnae.”
Maxwell’s gaze stayed on Ariella.
She looked up at him again, and the smallest smile touched her mouth. Not triumphant. Not teasing. Just soft.
As if she knew he was moved and did not judge him for it.
Maxwell felt the weight of his own choices press down on him.
No children.
He had built those rules like walls and called them safety.
But looking at Ariella now, holding new life as if it were the most natural thing she had ever done, he felt a dangerous truth rise in his chest.
He swallowed hard, forcing his expression back into place.
Ariella turned back to Mairi, voice gentle. “Ye were magnificent.”
Mairi scoffed weakly. “I was a beast.”
Ariella smiled. “Aye. A magnificent one.”
Maxwell stood at the foot of the bed, hands clenched behind his back, watching his wife silently.