Chapter Thirty-Four #2
He dipped his head and silenced her with a swift kiss.
Then he rose and steered her out of the great hall.
Monarch, who had been sleeping in front of the fire, leaped to his feet and trotted after them.
But Hamish didn’t steer Mia toward her chamber—where Eilidh had insisted she remain until she left Glenblath for good, and, in her weakness, she’d agreed.
Instead, he led her around the castle building, along the corridors and passageways that she’d come to know.
Perhaps he intended for her to say goodbye to every stone that formed the building—every wall and tapestry, every soul that resided there…
By the time they reached Mia’s chamber, a fire was already crackling in the hearth, courtesy of Ailsa, who was poking at the base as Hamish pushed the door open.
“Ailsa, there’s no need to do that when you’re mourning your mother,” Mia said.
The girl rose and dipped into a curtsy. “It’s what Ma would have wanted, Yer Ladyship,” she said. She touched her face where the pockmarks, still fresh, had yet to fade. “I-I’m sorry I weren’t more—”
She broke off as Mia stepped forward and pulled her into her arms.
“It’s forgotten,” she said. “What matters now is that you’re alive—and your mother lives on in you. I know that she’ll be looking down, so proud of the lovely young woman you are.”
Ailsa sniffed and wiped her nose.
“Be off with ye now, lass,” Hamish said, his voice gentle. “Tell Mrs. McBride that ye’re not to do any work this afternoon. Murdoch and wee Billy need ye more than Lady MacLennan and me.”
The girl curtsied once more then slipped out of the chamber, leaving Mia alone with her husband.
They stood, staring at each other, the warmth and crackle of the fire filling the gulf between them. Then he held out his hand, uncertainty in his eyes.
“Mia… Mia, I want—”
He broke off as a scream came from outside.
“Lady MacLennan!”
Hamish sprinted to the door and pulled it open to reveal a young maidservant.
“Freydis? Has my mother been taken ill?”
“N-no, Master Hamish. I-I meant Lady Euphramia. We need her. It’s Iona—her pains have come.”
Mia took the young girl’s hand. “It’s nothing to fear,” she said. “Let me fetch my things. Meanwhile, I’ll need plenty of hot water, if you could run and ask Mrs. McBride.”
“N-no—Elspeth said to bring ye right away,” Freydis sobbed. “I-it’s the baby. There’s something wrong.”
“What’s wrong?” Mia said, a knot of dread tightening in her gut.
“The baby’s not turned—that’s what Elspeth said. A-and it’s already coming! Elspeth said that Mistress Iona could die. I’ve seen it before, Yer Ladyship—young Davinia, her who used to live in the croft near the school. She lost her child, and the Almighty took her the next day.”
“Davinia was a sickly girl,” Hamish said. “She always had been. My sister has a hearty constitution. She’ll be well, won’t she, Mia?”
His voice carried an undercurrent of despair. Mia took his hand and he curled his fingers around hers, tightening the grip until Mia groaned with pain.
“Davinia died screaming in agony, Master Hamish,” Freydis said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Elspeth said that if Iona’s baby hasn’t turned, it’ll die and take the mother with it. She said—”
“Dear God!” Hamish cried. “Won’t ye stop? Bring the hot water, and cease yer prattling.”
Freydis ran off, still sobbing, and Hamish turned to Mia, his eyes glazed with fear.
“Is there anything ye can do?”
Mia’s heart urged her to reassure him, but a voice inside her head spoke of the fate that most likely awaited Hamish’s sister.
She squeezed his hand.
“I can try,” she said. “I’ll do everything I can.”
*
As Mia entered Iona’s chamber, her confidence waned, along with her hope. Elspeth’s tear-stained face was that of a woman already in mourning. As for the young woman on the bed…
Iona lay on her back, legs akimbo, her arms splayed out as if she’d been frozen in the throes of agony.
Her face, creased and contorted, was a deep shade of red with an unnatural sheen of moisture on her skin.
Eyes closed, lips drawn back to reveal her teeth, she moved her head weakly from side to side, soft moans escaping her mouth.
Elspeth glanced up.
“I-I dinnae know what to do for her, Yer Ladyship. I found her at the foot of the stairs, bleeding and in pain. She… Dear God Almighty!”
Elspeth let out a cry as the woman on the bed came to life, her back arching as she seemed to strain toward the heavens, seeking respite from the pain. She opened her mouth wide and wailed, and Mia’s skin tightened in terror.
“Shall I send for yer mother, Master Hamish?” Elspeth said.
“Not yet,” he said, placing a gentle hand on the small of Mia’s back. “Let my wife tend to her first.”
“But—”
“I said, not yet!” he cried, his voice growing in strength. “Mia, what can ye do for her?”
Mia glanced at him as the shroud of fear threatened to envelop her. “I-I don’t know…”
He took her hand. “Yes ye do, my love. Go to her. She needs ye. I need ye.”
Mia approached the bed and touched Iona’s arm. The young woman turned her gaze toward Mia, her green eyes dulled to a dark gray, almost as if she’d already succumbed.
“Iona,” she whispered, “I’m here.”
“Mia?”
Thin, bony hands curled around Mia’s wrist, then tightened as Iona stiffened once more.
“Help me!” she cried.
Mia uncurled Iona’s fingers from her wrist, then approached the foot of the bed. She peered between Iona’s parted thighs and stifled a gasp.
“The baby’s coming,” she said, pushing up her sleeves.
“Shouldn’t ye wash yer hands first, Yer Ladyship?” Elspeth said.
“There’s no time. The child’s coming. I must act now, or…”
Or both mother and child will die.
Hamish drew in a sharp breath, as if he’d heard the voice in Mia’s mind.
Iona let out another wail and terror clawed at Mia’s heart.
What if her intervention caused more harm?
Dr. McIver had said that most mothers did not survive a birthing if the baby had not turned—and new mothers almost not at all, unless with the help of a skilled surgeon, and someone with the ability to remain calm under pressure.
And she was neither.
“Mia, dinnae be afraid,” Hamish said. “Ye’re Iona’s best hope.”
“What if I cannot save her?”
“Ye won’t save her if ye dinnae try, my love.”
My love…
Mia closed her eyes, recalling Dr. McIver’s notes. Then she reached forward and placed her hand on the emerging child.
“Hamish!” Iona cried. “Where are ye?”
“I’m here, sister,” he said.
“Will I die today? Mia! Tell me if I’ll die today.”
Hamish exchanged a glance with Mia, his eyes narrowing as he recognized her fear. Then he mouthed, Be strong for her, lass.
Mia nodded.
“Not if I can help it,” she said. “Now, I want you to listen to my voice and do as I say. You must try not to push even though you’ll feel that you need to. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes, I—Oh!”
Iona let out another cry as Mia felt the child’s body, cupping the tiny form as its legs emerged—first one, then the other, then the lower torso.
“Thank the Lord!” Elspeth exclaimed. “It’s a girl!”
“It’s not over yet,” Mia said. “There’s still a risk that…” She glanced toward Iona’s face, contorted in agony, and lowered her voice. “The risk to the child is at its greatest unless I can turn her around.”
“What can I do?” Hamish said, and placed a hand on Mia’s arm. “Let me help ye.”
“I-I don’t know,” she said. “I read about this in Dr. McIver’s notes, but I’ve not even seen him undertake the procedure, much less do it myself. What if I fail?”
“Then ye’ll at least have tried,” he said. “There’s none other with whom I’d trust my sister’s life, or my own.”
Mia’s heart swelled as she swallowed the rising terror. Dr. McIver had always said that while caution was a quality essential in a physician, fear was the doctor’s most powerful foe.
And the man beside her, supporting her—the man who called her my love—strove to conquer her fear on her behalf. She owed it to him to show that his trust was not misguided.
“Very well,” she said. “Hold the child in position. Firmly, but gently—yes, like that. Now, the next time Iona moves, the child will want to come farther out, but you must keep her there while I try to free her arms.”
“Aye, I understand.”
Iona let out another wail and Mia froze. Hamish met her gaze.
“I trust ye, lass,” he said. “Ye’ve saved countless lives already and we’re so much in yer debt—ye can save two more today. My clever, brave wee wife.”
He smiled encouragement, and Mia slipped her hand along the tiny form until she felt a shoulder. Then, carefully, she rotated the baby.
“The next time Iona moves, pull—but gently,” she whispered.
He nodded, then, as Iona stiffened once more, the child slipped farther out, releasing her arms.
“Stop!” Mia cried. “I must protect the baby’s head. Wait until I say.”
With her fingertips, she found the chin and slipped her hand up to cup the delicate little head. Then she closed her eyes and uttered a prayer before gently easing the head out. Iona let out a wail as the child finally slipped from her body, then collapsed back on the bed, eyes closed.
“See to Iona, Elspeth,” Mia said.
“What about the child, Yer Ladyship?”
Mia glanced at the tiny form. Fear morphed into dread as the child’s lips darkened in color until they were almost purple.
She placed a hand on the baby’s chest and held her breath.
Then the little girl tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and let out a long, low wail.
Her chest expanded as she inhaled, and her cheeks reddened as she screamed at the world to herald her entry into it.
Tears stung Mia’s eyes as she pulled a blanket around the little form and held the child in her arms—the child she had brought into the world.
Then she heard a long, low sob and looked up to see her husband, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening, tears falling onto his cheeks.
“You have a niece,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said. “We have a niece.”
“Is…my baby alive?” a soft voice asked.
“Aye, Mistress Iona,” Elspeth said. “And she’s beautiful, just like her ma. Would ye like to meet her?”
The old maidservant approached Mia, arms outstretched. For a moment, Mia felt a rush of loss as she handed the child over and closed her eyes, unwilling for others to see the ugly ball of resentment and envy that curled in her gut.
Then a large, warm hand cupped her chin. She opened her eyes to see her husband watching her, his expression filled with pride and love.
“My beautiful wife,” he breathed. “How did I survive—how did any of us survive—without ye?”
He lifted his hand and traced a line around her face with his fingertip, caressing her forehead, then following a trail along her cheek toward her mouth, where he placed his fingertip against her lips.
How could a man so brawny, with the body of a beast, touch her with such tenderness? A tear swelled in his eye, then splashed onto his cheek. She placed her hand on his face and brushed away the tear with her thumb.
“There’s no shame in shedding a tear, Hamish,” she said. “A new life has entered the world, a beautiful little girl for you to love and cherish. How can anyone express their joy at such a gift other than to shed a tear?”
He took her hand. “I vow, on this day, that I shall ever again shed a tear, until”—he hesitated, a flicker of shyness in his eyes—“until I have cause to.”
“Cause?”
“Aye,” he said. “The next tear I shed shall be on the day that my own firstborn child is placed into my arms.”
His words broke the spell.
Was he, even now, looking to the day that her replacement might give him an heir? Now Iona’s baby had come, Mia had no reason to stay at Glenblath—no promise to keep her here.
The door burst open and Eilidh appeared, Freydis at her side.
“Daughter!” she cried. “I heard ye were—”
“I’m well, Ma,” Iona said. “Would ye like to meet yer granddaughter?”
“Och, Iona!” Eilidh said, embracing her daughter. “My clever wee lass!”
“I should leave you to get acquainted,” Mia said, stemming the tide of tears, and before anyone responded, she exited the chamber.
As soon as she’d shut the door behind her, she leaned against the wall and succumbed to sobs.
The beginning of a new life had heralded the end of Mia’s life at Glenblath—a life away from the people, the family, and the man she had come to love.