Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Ceana bent over the side of the bed, both hands locked around Oscar’s wrist.
“Take more of her weight,” Muriel instructed.
Oscar widened his stance and drew closer, letting Ceana remain in the position she had chosen. Her breathing shortened as another contraction seized her. Damp strands of hair clung to her neck, and her nails pressed crescents into his skin.
Over her shoulder, Muriel arranged folded linen beside the basin with steady hands. Oscar almost asked whether Ceana’s breathing troubled her. He had promised to trust his sister’s judgment, so he kept the question behind his teeth and watched his wife.
When Ceana’s grip eased, Muriel said, “Give her water.”
Oscar held the cup while she drank. After two sips, Ceana pushed it away. He set the cup down, and his gaze lingered on the water as he fought the urge to press another sip upon her.
“Stop lookin’ as though ye have already selected yer mournin’ clothes,” she huffed.
“I cannae control me face while ye are tryin’ to break me hand.”
“Then give me the other one.”
Muriel hid a brief smile as Ceana seized his left wrist. “And walk while ye still wish to.”
She had permitted Oscar to remain because Ceana had asked for him. He would stay above Ceana’s waist and obey every order. At one word from his wife, he would leave.
Ceana took slow steps between the bed and the fire while Oscar moved beside her without steering. When another contraction hit, she reached for his arm and leaned heavily against him.
The cradle stood near the wall. Paisley’s ribbon adorned one carved rail, the same ribbon that had lain beside her cheek when the family slept together in this bed. A strip of clean linen rested near Muriel, with fresh water in the basin below it.
“Has the bairn arrived?” Tommy called from the passage.
“The entire castle will ken when it has,” Mairi answered.
Ness bleated.
“Ness agrees with me,” Tommy said.
A huff of laughter escaped Ceana before she pressed her forehead against Oscar’s shoulder. She caught his hand and placed it between her shoulder blades. He rubbed there until her grip slackened.
“Is Ceana well?” Paisley asked beyond the door.
“Muriel is carin’ for her,” Heather replied. “Yer grandfaither and I are here with ye.”
Oscar considered sending them downstairs, but Ceana had chosen to keep the children close enough to receive news quickly. His hand continued rubbing slow circles between her shoulders.
The water in the pitcher had fallen by half when a maid fed the fire again. Muriel replaced the damp cloth at Ceana’s neck. Soon her legs began to tremble.
“Ye may kneel against the bed now,” Muriel said.
Oscar placed folded linen where she indicated and reached for more cushions.
“One is sufficient,” Ceana insisted.
She then kneeled against the bed and drew him in front of her until her forearms rested on his shoulders. He kept one hand on her back and the other on her side, following each movement she made while Muriel reached for a stained cloth.
Stained cloth.
Dark linen.
Tommy crying while his mother lay dead.
His hands tightened.
“Oscar.” Ceana’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “Look at me.”
He forced his gaze to her face. Sweat covered her brow, and exhaustion had drawn her mouth tight.
“I am still here,” she reassured him.
“Ye asked me to speak if I saw danger. I see none. Trust me and hold her,” Muriel urged.
Oscar loosened his grip. “Forgive me.”
“I need yer hand more than yer apology,” Ceana grunted.
He gave it to her.
The next contraction closed her fingers around his until her nails broke the skin over his knuckles.
“I have had enough of this child’s stubbornness,” she said through clenched teeth.
“The bairn clearly inherited it from ye.”
“When I finish givin’ birth, I shall hurt ye.”
Her mouth opened with the next contraction, and the threat broke into a groan. Oscar held her gaze while her shoulders shook. She gripped his hand and breathed through the pain.
“The child is comin’,” Muriel said.
Oscar kept his eyes on Ceana. Her nails cut deeper as her whole body strained against his support.
Ceana gripped his hand with both of hers and gave one final effort. Behind her, Muriel reached forward as the baby’s shoulders emerged, followed quickly by the rest of his small body into her waiting hands.
For one moment, Oscar heard only Ceana’s ragged breathing. Then a thin, furious cry filled the chamber, and he froze. Tommy’s newborn cry returned with the image of his first wife lying still.
He blinked twice and looked directly at Ceana. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes opened.
“Oscar,” she rasped. “Ye are crushin’ me fingers.”
He released the pressure at once.
“Help her settle back,” Muriel said calmly.
Oscar obeyed.
The baby cried again while Muriel wrapped him in clean linen, and then she examined Ceana and checked her pulse. Oscar waited until she withdrew her hand.
“Is she well?”
“She is tired and sore, as she has every right to be, but she is presently well,” Muriel assured him. “Ye have a strong son.”
At the door, a maid asked what news she should carry downstairs.
“Tell them Lady MacKane is well. Then tell them we have a son,” Oscar called.
“Let me see him,” Ceana demanded.
Muriel placed the wrapped baby in her arms. Ceana brushed one finger over his cheek, and he turned toward her warmth.
“Do ye intend to meet yer son?” she asked.
Oscar approached when she beckoned him over and held the baby out to him. “Will ye hold him?”
“Me hands are shakin’.”
“So are mine.”
Muriel showed him how to support the baby’s small head, and Oscar took him.
The baby was warm and surprisingly light. His furious cry vibrated against Oscar’s palm. When Ceana reached out, he returned the baby to her. She opened her eyes above their son’s dark head as Oscar slipped one hand beneath him and closed the other around her fingers.
They were both warm.
When she handed the baby back to him, he sat beside the bed with his swaddled son cradled against his chest. Muriel had helped Ceana into a fresh shift and changed the bedding, though Ceana remained pale from labor. Sweat dampened the hair at her temples, and her eyes were heavy.
The baby shifted against Oscar and made a small sound of protest. Oscar adjusted his arm beneath the slight weight, careful of the head resting near his elbow. Paisley’s ribbon glinted from the cradle.
“The bairns may visit for a short while, if Ceana wishes it,” Muriel allowed.
Oscar looked at his wife. “Are ye ready for them?”
“Aye. Let them come.”
“And Ceana will say when she has had enough,” Muriel added.
“Aye,” Oscar agreed.
Soon enough, Heather opened the door. Tommy bolted across the threshold, and Mairi caught the back of his tunic before he reached the bed.
“Mind the bairn,” she warned.
He slowed down at once, placing each foot with exaggerated care.
Paisley entered behind him, while David hovered near the door with Heather.
Paisley barely glanced at the bundle in Oscar’s arms. Her eyes fixed on Ceana. “Are ye truly well?” she asked.
Ceana lifted her head from the pillow. “I am sore, hungry, and in need of every pillow in the castle. So, aye, sweetness, I am well.”
“She needs food and rest now,” Muriel said. “Ye can believe her.”
Paisley approached the bed. When Ceana opened one arm, the girl leaned against her with such care that her shoulder barely touched the mattress. Ceana drew her closer and cupped her cheek.
Paisley pressed her face into Ceana’s palm. Her breath caught, and her fingers tightened around the sheet. Oscar watched his wife brush her thumb beneath the girl’s eye until her tight grip loosened.
“May I see me braither?” Tommy asked.
Oscar lowered the baby enough for him to take a look. Tommy bent forward, studying the small face tucked within the linen.
“He is smaller than Ness.”
“Ness is nearly grown,” Paisley said without lifting her cheek from Ceana’s hand.
“Can he see? Does he bite? Can he hold anythin’?”
Oscar lifted the baby’s hand from the swaddle and placed Tommy’s finger in his tiny palm. The baby’s fingers immediately closed around it.
“He likes me best!” Tommy announced.
“Then we have a problem,” Paisley said.
Tommy’s pleased expression faltered.
Oscar rested his free hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He is yer braither. He would be wrong to nae like ye.”
Heather drew near and touched the baby’s covered foot. When Muriel warned that Ceana required space, she guided David back toward the passage.
“Can Ness enter for the namin’?” Tommy asked.
“Nay,” Muriel said, just as a bleat rose from beyond the door.
Tommy rubbed his chin. “We could name him Oscar, then. He has Faither’s displeased expression.”
“One Oscar has exhausted this household enough,” Ceana snorted.
Oscar looked at her. “Ye were kinder to me durin’ labor.”
“Aye. Because I was distracted.”
“Ewan,” Paisley said.
Everyone turned toward her. She sat beside Ceana with one hand resting on the blanket.
“Nay one here has that name,” she pointed out. “It would be his own.”
Tommy tested it beneath his breath. “Ewan.”
“Say it to him,” Ceana urged.
He leaned closer to the baby. “Ewan.”
The baby tightened his grip on Tommy’s finger and gave a quiet grunt.
“He agrees,” Tommy laughed.
“Ewan,” Paisley repeated, watching her brother’s small fist.
Oscar looked at Ceana. Fatigue still lined her face, but her eyes remained clear on him. “Do ye approve?” he asked.
“Aye. The name suits him.”
He looked down at the dark head resting against his chest. “Ewan Barr.”
The baby stirred at the sound of his voice.
“May I hold him?” Paisley asked.
Ceana shifted against the pillows. “Bring him here. Support his head for her, Oscar.”
Oscar moved closer to the bed while Ceana arranged Paisley’s arms. At her direction, he lowered Ewan into them and kept one hand beneath the baby’s head until Paisley held him securely. She remained tucked against Ceana’s shoulder while Tommy watched the tiny fist gripping his finger.
“Ewan Barr,” he declared, as though he alone had settled it.
Ewan held fast to his brother, and Oscar kept all three children close.
The End?