Page 80 of Beauty and the Highland Beast
“Dair won’t rest, or eat,” John said.
The cry came again, sharp and keening. John blanched. Moire reached the door of the chief’s chamber, and John moved to open it. She shook her head.
“Ye’ll stay out here,” she said sternly. “I’ll send the chief out. Your job is to keep him out, do ye ken?”
John nodded, his eyes solemn.
Moire went in. Fia was lying in the huge bed, her belly swollen, her face flushed and wet with sweat. Ina and Annie stood by the bed, mopping her brow, murmuring encouragement. Dair paced the floor, his face haggard. He rushed to Moire’s side. “It’s been hours,” he said. He was hollow eyed, unshaven, mad with worry for his wife.
Moire rolled up her sleeves, used the basin of water to wash her hands. “Aye, and it will be more hours yet. The first babe takes time.” He looked sick at the idea. Fia wailed again, and Dair immediately turned to go to her, but Moire stepped in front of him. “No ye don’t. Out. Go and order some hot water, and some broth and fresh bread. Wash yourself. Eat.”
Their eyes locked, clashed like thunderclouds, but she held firm. “Ye might be the chief of the Sinclairs of Carraig Brigh, Alasdair Og, but tonight ye’re just a man in the way. This is women’s work.”
He nodded, defeated. “I’ll be right outside, if—”
Moire waved him away. She gripped Fia’s hand when he’d gone, gave her a smile, and Fia smiled back.Brave lass.
Moire ran her hand gently, expertly, over the mound of Fia’s belly. All was well. It wouldn’t be long. She opened her bundle and took out a pouch of herbs. “Mix a pinch of this with wine, and warm it,” she ordered Ina. She opened a small vial and poured a few drops of oil into Annie’s palm. “Massage her belly with that,” she said. She turned away, began to prepare the linens, humming to herself.
Fia looked at her. “Will it be a lass or a lad?”
Moire regarded her sharply.
“I know you’ve looked at the omens, asked the goddess, Moire. What did you see?”
Moire swallowed a smile. “Ye’ll have to wait. Ye’ve work ahead of ye—ye’d do better to think on that.”
Fia frowned, but Moire laughed. “Ye’ll not give commands tonight, Lady Sinclair. The little one rules now.”
Fia’s face crumpled as another pain took her, and Moire counted the seconds under her breath. “Time to get her up,” Moire said to the women, and they positioned Fia on the birthing stool.
The child came quickly. “Ye have a son,” Moire said.
“A son?” Fia’s smile was radiant. “Is he healthy, strong?” The child gave a mighty squall, and Fia laughed with joy. It was short-lived. She grimaced as another pain took her.
“Twins?” Annie said. “Oh, Fia, how wonderful!”
The second child was born a few minutes later. “And a lass,” Moire said.
The women cooed and laughed until they cried for joy and hurried out to tell the chief.
Only once the babes were washed and swaddled, and had suckled for the first time, and Fia was settled back into bed, did Moire allow Dair back into the room. He bounded in like a deerhound, and Fia beamed at her husband with so much love that even Moire’s old heart fluttered. “Two?” He stared at his babes in astonishment, looking from one to the other and back again, as if he was the first man to ever see a newborn child, or twins. He looked at Fia. “Are you well—all three of you?”
“Would you like to hold your bairns, Chief Sinclair?” Fia asked.
He looked at Moire first, the great chief, asking for permission. She helped him position first one and then the other child in his arms, and the babes looked all the smaller for the size of their braw father. The wee lassie grinned at him, and the man melted. Wonder shone in his eyes. He looked at Fia again, and she smiled, reached out to stroke the child’s fuzz of russet hair.
“I thought we’d call her Jeannie,” Fia said. “And Padraig for our son—if you agree.”
Dair grinned. “Aye.”
Outside, the wind blew around the cairn on the cliff, a soft, benevolent sigh, carrying the faint scent of rose perfume. It wound around the castle, lingered for a moment outside the warm lighted window of the chief’s chamber, and then swept out to sea, and was gone.
