Chapter Eighteen #2
Well, there wasn’t much they could do about that now, but she couldn’t very well say so.
He had handled his fears brilliantly thus far.
She prayed he would find the strength to hold fast. “Two also doubles the love.” She pushed herself upright and sat back against the headboard.
“Grace was fine, and just look at your mother. She brought forth you and your sister.”
“There canna be two,” he repeated.
“As I said, I am not certain.”
“I shall order the midwife from the village fetched.” He wildly flung his hands in the air. “Or that man from Edinburgh. Mother mentioned him at dinner. That accoucheur fellow. Surely a man educated at Edinburgh could tell us.”
Dear heavens, her champion was panicking. She could hear it in his voice. She patted the spot beside her. “We have plenty of time. This is just September. Come back to bed. Please?”
“There canna be two,” he said for a third time. “’Tis but one. A braw, healthy son who’ll come forth ready to ride his first horse.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have shared her suspicions and left him in ignorant bliss until time for the babes to be born. Ah well, she couldn’t exactly un-ring that bell. With a heavy sigh, she patted the bed again. “Come to bed.”
He finally relented and returned, but didn’t lie down. Instead, he sat back against the headboard beside her. “We’ve naught but the one cradle.”
“We have time.” She snuggled against him, smiling as the babe or babes within her rolled and stretched. She took his hand and rested it on her belly. “See? We need you close.”
“I wish I could protect ye,” he whispered, “all of ye.”
“You do. Just by being here, you protect me more than you know.”
“I will always be here for ye.”
“I know you will. You are and always have been my champion.”
*
Late December 1826
Galkirk
Lowlands of Scotland
It had been hours. Hours upon hours, in fact. Duncan paced the length of the hallway, opening and closing his fists, warring against his inner demons and praying for Merry and the bairns’ safety.
Her sister, Serendipity, had come to stay with them after the village midwife and the pompous accoucheur from Edinburgh had both agreed that more than one babe was likely to arrive when the time came.
Now, all of them were in there with Merry, on the other side of that door, and the not knowing was driving him mad.
“Duncan?”
He spun about to find his mother standing at the top of the stairs.
“Ye know as well as I that our Merry would not wish ye wearing out the floorboards with worry.” She joined him in the hallway, falling in step beside him.
“These things take time, son. Especially the first time. I thought yerself and yer sister would never be born, but sure enough, when ye were ready, out ye came.”
“If anything happens—”
She cuffed him. “Haud yer wheesht! Dinna invite the evil in by speaking of it!”
Serendipity exited the bedroom and started for the stairs, then halted when she happened to spot Duncan. “She needs you.”
Without hesitation, he charged into the room, shoving his way around the accoucheur who tried to stop him. “Get out of my way!” His precious Merry needed him. “Merry?”
Held on the foot of the bed by one of the accoucheur’s attendants, her knees bent and her feet on a pair of tall stools far enough apart to allow someone in close to catch the babe, Merry reached for him.
“I cannot do this anymore. I am so very tired.” She was pale as weak milk, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
“Move!” Duncan roared at the attendant as he crossed the room.
“But my lord—” Alarmed, the attendant retreated.
Duncan took his dear wife’s hand and kissed it as he settled on the bed behind her, supporting her back against his chest and cradling her close.
Ever so gently, he swept her sweat-soaked hair back from her face.
“We can do this together, my own. My strength is yer strength, aye? I have no idea what to do, but by damn, we will do this together.”
Sagging back against him, she whimpered. “I have to push, but I am so very tired. These babies do not wish to come out.”
“My lord…” Dr. Crawford, the famed accoucheur from Edinburgh, pinned him with a disapproving scowl. “This is no place for a husband.”
“Oh, shut up, do!” Merry told the man. “I wish we had never called you here.” She clutched Duncan’s arms. “My husband was here to make these babies; by devil, he can be here when they are born.”
“Well said, my own.” Duncan pressed his cheek to hers and helped her squat there on the edge of the bed as if he were a living armchair made just for her.
“We shall bring our bairns into this world together.” He had no feckin’ idea how to help her, but he could hold her and love her. That, he knew he could do.
“Yer wife must push, my lord.” Dr. Crawford settled back on the short stool between Merry’s knees. “She simply refuses to cooperate and do as she is told.”
“Talk to her like that again, and we’ll see how cooperative ye are as I dangle ye out the window by the scruff of yer neck.” Duncan had never liked this man. Merry was right. They should never have asked him to come. “Get out of here.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “Yer wife needs my expertise.”
“Get out,” Duncan repeated, then jutted his chin at the elderly midwife from the village, standing off in the corner as if the man from Edinburgh had shunned her. “Take over, Mrs. Danrahan, and do forgive us for not placing our full trust in ye.”
The midwife bustled forward, snapping her fingers at the accoucheur and his attendant. “Ye heard himself. Out of my way. And on yer way out, send me maids in. They ken well enough what needs to be done to get these bairns into the world.”
With a loud, haughty snort, the accoucheur packed up his things, shoved them into his attendant’s arms, and stormed out of the room.
Serendipity clapped her hands. “Well done. I did not like that man.”
Merry started sobbing. “But what if I endangered the babies by sending him away?”
Duncan’s mother’s words came to mind. “Dinna speak that evil into this room. Nothing but goodness is invited here.”
“I am so very tired.” Merry curled forward, wailing with the pain.
“Yer bairns need yer help, my lady,” Mrs. Danrahan told her with a calmness that helped them all. “Ye can do this. It’ll not be easy, but ye can do this. Ye’re a fine, braw woman.” As she settled on the short stool, she locked eyes with Duncan. “Help her proper or ye will be escorted out, ye ken?”
Duncan possessed no doubt whatsoever that the midwife would catch him up by his ear and tow him out of the room. He rubbed Merry’s shoulders as he held her in place. “Push, my love. Ye know ye can. Ye are the strongest woman I have ever known.”
“These babies have to be males. So stubborn.” She growled long and low with a trembling groan, digging her fingernails into his arms as she leaned forward and bore down.
He didn’t care if she shredded him to bits. The pain was nothing compared to hers. “Bear down again, love. Show yer sons that when Mama says, Come out, they must listen.”
“Ye can do this, m’lady,” the midwife encouraged her. “Ye’ve almost got that first one birthed. Push just a wee bit longer.”
Merry groaned again, growling like an enraged beast.
“I see a fine head of hair. Black as his lordship’s. One more great push.”
Duncan held tight to her as she trembled and shook, straining to get their babies born.
“And we have a fine laddie, we do!” The midwife laughed as the wriggling baby squalled and made his displeasure known. “Oh, just listen to him. What a braw, healthy lad he is.”
Merry sagged back against Duncan, struggling to catch her breath. “He is not happy.”
Wrapping him in a blanket, Serendipity held him closer so they could see him. “Your son, my lord.”
His son. Duncan couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. He simply shook his head, then rested his cheek against Merry. “Our son,” he whispered. “Look at our son.”
“He is perfect.”
“Indeed, he is. Just like his mother.”
“I believe the other one wishes to come out now.” She curled forward as much as her body allowed and groaned.
“This one should be easier, m’lady,” the midwife said. “Push that little one out.”
As Duncan held her, he strained and growled along with her, wishing it would help.
“And we have another laddie!” The midwife held up the second squirming babe, smiling as he yowled as loudly as his brother.
After handing the child off to Serendipity, she pressed on Merry’s stomach several times, then nodded.
“That be all, m’lady. Well done and congratulations on yer fine sons.
Yer body will take care of the rest, and then we’ll get ye cleaned up and settled. ”
Still out of breath, Merry motioned Serendipity closer. “Let me see him.”
“We’ll be able to tell them apart easily,” Serendipity said. “What little hair this one possesses has a reddish cast to it, whereas his brother’s is as black as a raven’s wing.”
“Then this one shall be Lorne,” Duncan said. “It means fox.”
“And his brother is Lachlan.” Merry gave a happy sigh. “Lachlan and Lorne. Our sons.”
“M’lord,” the midwife said, “why do ye not go and spread the happy news whilst we make yer lovely wife more comfortable and help her feed the wee ones their first meal?”
“Is that what ye wish?” Duncan asked Merry. He would not leave her side until she was ready.
Joy and love beamed from her, filling her weary eyes. “Yes. Go tell everyone our wonderful news.”
As he rose, she caught hold of his arm and stopped him. “I love you.”
“I love ye more, my own.” Never in all his life had he ever known such love. “More than ye will ever comprehend.”
“My beloved champion.”