Chapter Three
Lily
Lily, the light-hearted lass, can’t handle losing her brother to the lairdship.
Brenna helps Lily when she’s lost after her brother becomes chieftain.
Lily did her best not to pay much attention to them since she knew they were not worried about her.
Torrian and her father were always so logical and forthright, the exact opposite of her.
She could not help but wonder if her mother, Lilias, had been more like Lily—light of heart.
After all, she must have gotten it from somewhere.
She shared absolutely naught in common with her sire and her brother. She snorted.
From the way her sire and brother stared at her, she’d done so loud enough for all to hear. She smiled at her sire, not wanting to explain herself, and folded her hands back in her lap.
A light rap sounded at the door just then, and Torrian barked, “Enter.”
One of the maids entered and said, “Forgive me, my lairds, but Lady Brenna has been requested at Mary’s cottage. A healer is needed.”
Brenna stood immediately. “Tell them we’ll be right along.”
We? Could that word mean what Lily thought it meant? She did not have to wonder for long. The maid left quickly, and Brenna turned to face Lily. “Are you ready?”
Lily started. “For what, Mama?”
“Well, this is a birthing. I could use your assistance, if you are free. Bethia is not feeling well today. You know she loves to assist, but I would prefer she stay back.”
What a silly comment. Of course, she was free. Did she wish to go? Nay.
“Of course, Mama, I would love to attend the birthing with you.” It was lie number…goodness, how was she to keep track of all her terrible lies? She thought it had been less than five, but she had to admit she didn’t know.
Lily followed her mama out the door of the solar, and Lady Brenna accepted her healer’s satchel from the maid before heading out the door of the great hall.
“Now, daughter,” she said, glancing back at Lily, “you do not need to watch the birth if the blood bothers you. You may help with gathering towels, heating water, or consoling sweet Mary as she delivers this bairn. She has three others that you could care for while we’re busy.
Whatever you wish to do is acceptable to me. ”
Goodness, but she was learning the problem with lying. She had no desire to attend a birthing. All that blood and screaming… She’d be sure to faint to the floor.
As she trailed behind her mother, she smiled at all the clanspeople who were moving aside for Lady Brenna.
They knew how important her work was whenever she carried her satchel.
Lily wondered if they’d ever show her that same respect.
Nay, they preferred to stop and stare at Lily, acting as if she had two heads attached to her shoulder.
She giggled at the image that popped into her head.
Her mama gave her a strange look, but continued to make haste toward the cabin. “You’ll find your own way, lass,” she said, still moving quickly as she spoke. “I’m sure of it. You are a talented and loveable young woman.”
“Mama, are you any good at catching things?” Lily rubbed her head. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was she would faint during the delivery. How she hoped her dear stepmother would be able to catch her before she cracked her head open on the stone floor.
“Whatever do you mean, Lily?” Brenna gave her a perplexed look, but there was no time to explain.
They’d reached Mary’s cottage, and the lass’s sire was standing in front of the door, wide-eyed.
“Please help her. And if you can…” he whispered.
“Can you not help her husband, as well? The man is quite addled with this one.”
Lily and Brenna stepped into the cottage.
Lily’s first reaction was to cover her ears.
Everyone was screaming. Brenna moved straight into the adjoining chamber, the source of the loudest screams, to attend to Mary, but Lily stayed put in the front of the cottage.
A large man wearing a beleaguered expression on his face sat in the corner with a screaming child on his lap, a lass around one summer old.
Two other lassies sat on the floor crying, though Lily had no idea why.
She glanced at the man, who said, “Help me, please? I know not what to do without my Mary. The bairn is hungry and she cannot feed her.”
Lily headed over to the table near the hearth and searched through the food baskets until she found a carrot and a hunk of bread.
She took the wee lassie from her sire’s arms and sat on a stool near the hearth on the opposite wall.
The father, clearly grateful, stood and said, “My apologies, but they’ve been like this since Mary started with the baby last night.
I just need a moment, lass. Please?” When she nodded her answer, he slipped out the door.
Lily settled the bairn on her lap, placed the carrot in the wean’s mouth so she had something to gnaw on, and waved the other crying girls over to a spot beside her.
All three bairns were still crying, but the wee one stopped every so often to gnaw on the carrot for a few seconds.
Unsure of how she could calm them, she did the only thing she could think of to help maintain her own sanity.
Lily began to sing. She started off by humming, but once the two bairns on the floor started to listen—their tears turned to mere sniffles—she sang with all her heart, about her horse and rainbows and flowers and all the things dear to her.
The singing carried her away, and she almost missed it when the lassies on the floor leaned over and snuggled together, one of them placing her thumb in her mouth.
None of the bairns were even sniffling now.
Pleased with her small success, Lily continued, singing even louder.
Eventually, the older lassies curled up on the floor and closed their eyes.
Within moments, they were asleep as fast as slumbering newborns.
The wee lass in Lily’s arms continued to gnaw on the carrot, her mouth turning orange, her wee gaze locked on Lily’s mouth as she continued to sing.
Eventually the wean pulled the carrot from her mouth and closed her eyes, letting her head rest in the crook of Lily’s arms.
Once the three girls’ bellowing had stopped, Lily noticed Mary was no longer screaming either.
Not daring to stop her singing because it was so peaceful, she continued until the door to the inner chamber opened.
Her mama stood there holding a squealing bairn, though the child’s cries couldn’t come even close to the screaming that had come from the other three.
Brenna carried the child over closer to Lily, motioning for her to continue her song, and the child stopped its squealing, closed its eyes, and nestled into Brenna’s arms.
At the sound of the babe, the front door flew open and Mary’s husband reappeared.
His gaze fell on Lily first, and Mary’s sire, who had entered behind him, stared at Lily as well.
Though the attention discomfited her, she continued with her song, afraid the bairns would all awaken screaming if she stopped.
Mary’s husband then turned to stare at Brenna. “My lady?”
“Congratulations, Sorley. Your wife has gifted you with a son.” She held the lad up to Sorley, and the man fell onto a stool. Tears erupted from his eyes as he staggered up and took his son from her, then ran into the chamber. “Mary, we have a son. Finally, a wee laddie.”
Brenna moved over to close the door, giving the couple some privacy with their new babe, and then turned to Lily.
“Well done. I’ve never seen anyone quiet bairns the way you did.
” Brenna found a plaid on a chair and tucked it around the two lassies snuggled together sound asleep on the floor.
She then took the sleeping bairn from Lily’s arm and settled her into the swaddled drawer in a nearby chest.
Mary’s sire glanced at Lily and said, “Bless you, lassie. You are a true gift from God.”
He settled in a chair by the hearth, letting out a deep sigh as he leaned back and closed his eyes.
Lily had no idea how the man could consider her a gift from God.
He wouldn’t say so if he knew all the lies she’d told.
Epilogue
Brenna brings another bairn, or two, into the world…
Kyle paced the great hall.
The love of his life was in a chamber above stairs with Lady Brenna, giving birth to their first son or daughter.
He ran his hand down his face, pacing the hall for the hundredth time.
“How long does this process take? Must she torture me like this?” He threw his arms in the air for emphasis, hoping the angels watching over his wife would see his frustration and take pity on him.
Logan and Quade sat in front of the hearth, drinking ale. Quade said, “I recall one lass who took two days to deliver her bairn. I did not think my wife would ever return.”
“Two days? Truly? I’ll not survive it if Lily takes that long. Can you not hear her scream? She’ll be the death of me by the end of the day.”
Logan laughed. “She’s not screaming that much. Gwyneth screamed so loud when she popped Gavin out that Seamus came running in from the lists.”
Gwyneth smacked her husband’s arm as she passed him, coming from the kitchens with a few pieces of fruit. “If you recall, I was yelling at you. I said you’d never touch me again. Stop scaring the lad.”
Logan jumped out of his chair to waylay his wife. He nuzzled her neck and grabbed her hips. “Seems my touch pleases you again, aye?”
She laughed, shoving at him. “Aye, but we’ve not had another bairn since, have we?”
“Aye, we have. You do not recall making Brigid?”
Gwyneth halted at the top of the stops. “Seems you have the right of it. ‘Twas a wonderful daughter we made.”
Logan growled as he chased up the stairs after her. “Since you’re headed in the right direction, I’ll follow. We can make another.”