Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots Book 8) Page 5
Once in the room, she placed the tray down and hurried to stand beside Fiona. “What can I do?” she asked in a quiet voice.
Merewyn straightened, grimaced, rubbed her own belly, then blew out a breath. “Hold Fee’s other hand. I suspect things are about to start getting—”
The noise Fiona made wasn’t a groan, but more of a cry, and Merewyn hummed.
“Toss me a pillow,” she commanded Graham, but he did even more than that.
He grabbed a few pillows and hurried to arrange them in front of where Fiona crouched, knowing Merewyn would have to get down on the floor in front of the laboring woman. He then helped her down, recognizing how much the midwife was relying on his strength and trying to hide it, and prayed to St. Luke for a speedy labor.
Fiona had obliged thus far, and it looked as though she’d continue.
As Graham stepped back, worried, Fiona cried out again, but Merewyn’s voice was calm when she said, “Aright, Fee, get ready. We’re going to push this bairn out. Remember what we spoke about? The pressure in yer bowels, and ye’ll feel the need to push? Graham, look away.”
She’d said the last part in the same soothing tone, and he couldn’t help but be impressed.
He wasn’t going to leave, but he did pull his attention above Fiona’s head…and met Davina’s eyes. She was smiling at him.
At him?
Or at the situation in general?
Either way, ‘twas impossible to resist the lure of her smile, and his lips twitched in response.
St. Luke’s blood, but he loved this woman. Loved how supportive she could be, loved how caring she was. Loved how she’d loved him…once.
“Aye, that’s it, Fee, push!” Merewyn was murmuring, as Fee’s cries turned to a low keen. “I can see the head. Once more.”
Skye was chanting, “Ye can do this, Fiona, ye can do this,” while her sister grunted and strained and panted.
Merewyn’s soothing monologue continued as well. “Once more and we’ll have the head, and the bairn will just fall out— Aye! That’s it!”
With one more cry, Fiona pushed, and it wasn’t long before Merewyn cried out, “A girl! A fine lassie, Fiona!”
Skye burst into tears and threw her arm around her twin. “A daughter, Fee! Ye did it!”
Fiona was laughing through her tears, and Merewyn was struggling to hold the bairn and lumber to her feet, but over their heads, Graham met Davina’s eyes. She was rubbing Fiona’s shoulders and beaming, her own beautiful blue eyes misty with tears.
‘Twas the knowledge she’d been present for this miracle, and was watching him, which sent him into motion.
“Dinnae move,” he growled to Merewyn, as he stepped forward to grab a cloth from Moira’s hands. The older woman was sniffling, so he bent to wrap the bairn—a squalling lassie—in the linen.
Merewyn glared at him, and he glared right back as he cradled the precious bundle. “I cannae get down there for the afterbirth, and I’ll no’ allow ye to bounce up and down, being as outrageously pregnant as ye are.”
Her frown eased, as she realized he was right. “It was absurdly pregnant just a while ago,” she muttered, determined to have the last say.
Davina leaned down. “Ye’re fast reaching the too pregnant stage.”
Merewyn and Moira, and even Fiona, chuckled at that, although the new mother’s laugh quickly turned into a moan.
As Graham turned to hand the infant to Moira to clean up, Fiona moaned, “I thought I was done!”
“Aye,” Merewyn said matter-of-factly, positioning herself in front of the stool once more, “but I explained about the afterbirth. Ye’ll have to push again soon.”
As Fiona groaned, the midwife placed her hands on her stomach. It should’ve been a quick feel, just to determine where the new mother needed help, but Graham saw her hands pause, then move to another spot. Fiona was still wearing her chemise, so ‘twas impossible for him to know exactly what Merewyn was feeling, but he could tell something wasn’t right.
There was still too much stomach under her hands.
“Merewyn?” he began hesitantly, dimly aware of Moira behind him, cooing softly to the infant as she bathed the lassie.
The midwife didn’t turn. “I ken,” she hissed quietly.
Graham hated not knowing what was wrong, but he had to trust she did, and trust she didn’t want to worry Fiona or the others.
So when she placed her palms on either side of Fiona’s still-rounded stomach and tilted her head back, her smile looked a little strained. “Ye remember what I said about the afterbirth?”
“Aye,” Fiona groaned, her head tilted to one side, propped on Skye’s shoulder as her twin began to look worried.
Merewyn blew out a breath. “I was wrong. Let me ken when ye have to push.”
“Wrong? How could ye be— Ooh.”
Nodding, the midwife bent again, her hands reaching under the stool. “That’s it, Fiona, same as before. Just allow it to happen.”
“Oh God in Heaven!” Fiona moaned; her right knuckles white where they gripped the chair. Davina scrambled to take her hand, but Fiona ended up clutching her forearm. “It hurts!”
“I ken it, I ken it,” Merewyn murmured soothingly. “Are ye ready?”
With another keening groan, Fiona bore down.
Merewyn cried out, “Aye!”
Then Fiona was leaning to one side, her energy spent, as a tearful Skye took her weight. Merewyn straightened, clutching another bairn, and beamed.
“Another lass, Fiona,” she declared happily. “Twins!”
“Twins?” Fiona repeated in a whisper, her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Twin lassies.”
“Aye, and near identical! We’ll have to tie a string around the eldest’s ankle in order to tell them apart.”
“Twins,” Skye repeated, holding her twin sister. “Two wee lassies.” And then they were both crying, and Graham stepped forward to take the new bairn from Merewyn as well.
As he straightened, holding the crying bairn, he met Davina’s eyes. “Get her into the bed so Merewyn can see to her without having to climb up and down.”
When she nodded, he swore he saw pride in her gaze. As he turned away to take the first bairn from Moira and pass her the second, he tried not to wonder what that look might have meant.
While he and the older woman saw to the bairns—and he was thankful they had four arms between them to handle the squalling, squirming infants—Davina helped first Fiona, then Merewyn, to the bed.
It seemed an eternity had passed—although the moon still hadn’t risen outside—before he could tuck the bairns into their mother’s arms. Straightening, he sent a glare Merewyn’s way, then caught Davina’s gaze.
“Please dinnae allow Merewyn to exert herself.”
“I’ll fetch and carry whatever she needs,” assured the woman he’d once thought would bear his bairns.
‘Twas that reminder—and the reminder of how well they understood one another—which had him nodding curtly. “I’ll go inform Finn of his new blessings. Congratulations, my lady.”
Fiona grinned weakly as he offered her a small bow. Before he turned to leave, Vina smiled again at him.
‘Twas a warm smile, a loving one. Likely because of the miracle she’d just witnessed, he reminded himself.
As he turned to stalk out the door, the reminder didn’t help, and his traitorous, glutton-for-punishment heart leapt.
Davina didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as utterly amazing as the birth of Fiona’s bairns. Skye was a blubbering mess—who would’ve thought the tough woman would go all gooey over bairns?—so Davina was the one to help Moira with the infants and Merewyn’s demands. It took both of them, but soon, they had Fiona cleaned and ready to present her husband with the new lassies.
Moira bustled off to arrange for a bed to be moved into Fiona’s room because Merewyn was insisting on staying longer, and everyone could tell she was as exhausted as the new mother. So ‘twas left up to Davina to be the one to open the door for Finn, to smile brightly at his wary expression, before gesturing him toward the bed.
And when she saw his tears as Fiona introduced him to his daughters, Davina’s started again.
Knowing she wasn’t needed at this family gathering, she slipped out of the room. Intending to go back to the chambers she’d been given, she was surprised to find herself in front of Katlyn and Kiergan’s room. ‘Twas still early enough they might not be asleep, but she didn’t want to risk bothering them.
Still, she placed her palm against the door and gasped in surprise when it was yanked open.
Her sister stood there, clutching her own distended stomach, her gaze worried as her it settled on Davina’s tears. “I could hear ye sniffling. What is it? Is Fiona—?”
She left the words unsaid, but Davina understood the worry. Suddenly, the last several hours caught up to her all at once, and the tears flowed even more freely. But she grinned and shook her head. “She’s fine. ‘Twas twins, and all three are healthy.”
“Twins,” Katlyn breathed reverently, pulling her into the room. “Lads?”
Of course she’d want to know. The whole castle would want to know if Finn was to be the next laird. Kiergan wasn’t in the room, so Davina sunk into a chair as she groped for a handkerchief to wipe her cheeks. “Both lassies, beautiful little bairns.”
“Twins,” Katlyn repeated, this time close to laughter. “So she was twice the size as the rest of us. Tell me everything!”
Chuckling, Davina obliged. She explained it all in detail, starting when she arrived, and making sure to linger over Merewyn’s instructions, thinking her sister would wish to know those things when her time came.
But apparently, she had lingered over other things, because Kat was peering at her oddly when she finished.
“What?”
Her sister shrugged. “Ye waxed poetic about Graham there a bit much.”
“Waxed poetic?” Davina repeated. “What do candles have to do with poetry? Or do ye mean beeswax? Bees are generally unrelated to the birthing process, although I think Merewyn had Moira mix honey into the drink she gave Fiona after. Or do ye mean the birds and the bees? I suppose they’re related to how she got pregnant in the first place…” she mused.
But her sister blinked. “What? What? Birds and bees? What does that have—Och, never mind.” Kat scowled as she lumbered to her feet. “I just meant, during yer telling, ye were focused on Graham for the most part. And when ye spoke of him…” She took Davina’s hand, her expression softening. “Ye still have feelings for him, do ye no’? Ye havenae mentioned him in yer letters, but he mentions ye often when he’s home.”
But…?
“Ye never mention him either. I didnae realize he was at the MacVanish holdings!” His home wasn’t so far from Mull that he couldn’t have visited her, had he wanted to.
“Och, nay, I meant home home. Here. Oliphant Castle. ‘Tis my home now, and I believe he sees it as his home as well, at least, much more than where he was raised.”
“So he has been here?”
“He’s either been in St. Andrew’s, or traveling about helping patients. He’s come through Oliphant land, oh, maybe thrice since last summer.” Kat squeezed her hand. “He’s a busy man, although I’ve gotten the impression he’d welcome the chance to settle down.”
Once, Vina thought he’d settle down with her.
“He’s no’ said one word to me,” Davina whispered.
Her sister hummed and tugged her to her feet. “His letters must—”
“He hasn’t written, Kat.”
Katlyn froze, then blinked. “ ’Tis no’ right, Vina. I would swear that man loves ye as much as I thought he did last summer.”
“I thought he did as well.” Shrugging hopelessly, Davina sighed. “But he’s made nae effort to contact me, and I’m running out of excuses to put off Grandda’s attempts to marry me off. Once yer bairn is born, he’ll drag Kiergan back to MacKinnon land to be the next laird, and I…”
When she saw her sister’s face go pale, Davina realized she was upsetting Kat by hinting she’d likely have to leave Oliphant Castle. So instead of finishing that thought, she forced a smile.
“And I will finally be allowed to marry for love,” she said, forcing more cheerfulness in her tone than she felt.
Her sister wasn’t fooled. “Nay, Vina. No’ ‘til ye discuss it with the man ye love. Dinnae deny it; ye still love him. I can see it when ye speak of him, even though ye’ve been hurt.”
“Aye, what of it?” Raising her chin defiantly, Davina glared. “I love him, and he’s tossed me aside.”
“Nay, he hasnae.” Kat’s tone was serious, her gaze steady. “Ye must trust me on this, as Kiergan and Graham have become close. Graham still loves ye. I dinnae ken why he hasnae written, but ye need to discover that reason, before ye can hope to find happiness elsewhere.”
Well, shite.
Her sister must’ve seen the thought in her expression because Kat’s lips twitched as she nodded. “Go, Vina, talk to him. Learn his reasons, and then ye can decide if ye can forgive him.”
“And—” Davina cleared her throat and tried again. “And if I can?”
Kat’s smile bloomed. “Then ye will have yer love, and ye will both be able to work toward a future together and be as happy as I am, wee sister.” She pulled Davina into a quick hug, then released her and straightened. “Go on, speak to him and let me to sleep now that I ken Fiona is safe.”
Speak to him. Could she do it?
Kat nodded and grinned again, and Davina straightened her shoulders.
Aye.
Chapter 4
Graham was yawning by the time he finished cleaning up and began undressing. He was used to late nights, medical emergencies happened at all times of the day, after all. And as always, the excitement of the moment had caused his blood to pound and his energy to spike, but now it was over, he was ready for sleep.
The whiskey Kiergan had poured him, to toast the new arrivals with, wasn’t helping either.
But Fiona and her daughters were safe and healthy, and that’s all that mattered.
A hell of a day.
As he pulled his shirt over his head, Graham snorted quietly at the thought. A hell of a day indeed. Seeing Davina again had been wringing enough, but then to sit beside her at the table? To have her so close and be unable to touch her, knowing she didn’t want him to? To be able to smell her and feel her warmth?
And then, before he could process all that, Fiona’s labor and delivery had been added in the mix. ‘Twas after midnight now, and he felt as if he’d been stretched in all directions.
Another yawn caught him when he straightened from pulling off his boots and reached for his plaid. He’d taken to wearing the Oliphant plaid more often these days, because this family claimed him, whereas the MacVanishes seemed not to care how he spent his days.
He’d just unfastened his belt, the woolen plaid pooling into his hands, when the knock came. He froze, his eyes darting to his chamber’s door.
Was Fiona ill? Had something happened?
“Who is it?” he barked, his throat dry.
No answer.
Still holding his plaid around his waist, he padded barefoot to the door and pulled it open a crack, not wanting to shock anyone on the other side with his nudity.
There was no one there.
Nay, ye didnae imagine it.
Almost against his will, his gaze swung toward the stone wall of the chamber. He’d been given this small room last summer, likely originally intended for a servant, but fine enough for him on his visits. He didnae require much beyond a comfortable bed and a desk for his work. But since this chamber butted up against the castle’s outer wall, there was an entrance to the secret passages.
The ghost then?
There were no such things as ghosts, and the Ghostly Drummer of Oliphant Castle had been noticeably quiet since the Laird’s marriage a few months back. So was someone else in the passageway?
As if in answer, the tapestry which hid the entrance fluttered.
He was already moving toward it, intent on yanking it back and pulling open the door, when Davina stepped through, wearing naught by her chemise.
St. Luke bless me.
He froze, his fingers tightening on the plaid covering his genitals…and naught else.
“Graham.”
‘Twas all she said, her voice breathy and arousing, and he had to swallow down a noise he suspected wasn’t very appealing.
“What are ye doing here, lass?” he managed to croak.
The way her gaze dropped to his chest, then lower, before rising to his once more, made his heart quicken. As blood rushed to his cock, Graham realized he wasn’t even a little tired any longer.
And then she smiled, as if knowing the effect she was having on him, and he knew—knew—that if she didn’t get out of there, he was going to have to show her.
“Davina!” he barked, trying to make her realize the severity of the situation. “Why are ye here, lass?”
“I came to speak to ye.” She stepped away from the wall, allowing the door to the secret passage to close behind her. “Dinnae worry; none saw me leave my chamber to come here. Everyone is asleep, and I’ll no’ be missed ‘til morning.”
His eyes widened slightly at the intimation: she was expecting to be gone from her chamber until morning?
Before he could clarify, she’d stepped closer to him. Instinctively, he stepped back, hoping by putting room between them, his cock would remember she was off-limits.
Her wicked smile grew, as if she knew the effect she was having on him. “I came expecting an argument, Graham, but I confess, I rather like having ye at a disadvantage.”
Aye, bare-arse naked was indeed a disadvantage. He clutched the plaid tighter and squeezed his eyes closed. “Vina, if ye dinnae leave now, I cannae be responsible for what happens. Well, I can, but ye tempt a man something fierce, lass.”
“ ’Tis good to ken ye’re still sexually attracted to me.”