by Tarah Scott
The day wore on toward evening as Rhoslyn labored. When the sun set, Talbot heard the door creak open beyond the closed curtain.
“Diana,” the man called. “Kinsley, what are ye doing here?”
Seward quietly explained to Morrison what had happened.
Morning came and Talbot feared Diana would collapse from exhaustion. He and her husband had forced her to lie down, but she had slept little more than an hour before she returned to Rhoslyn’s side.
“Are you sure we do not need the midwife?” Talbot asked.
“Why would we need a midwife?” Rhoslyn demanded.
He looked at her. “Rest, my lady.” The labor pains were coming too quickly and he could see the fatigue in the droop of her eyelids. He wanted to ask Diana what was wrong, why the baby was taking so long to come, but feared worrying Rhoslyn.
“Mayhap ye should get some rest, laird,” Diana told him.
He shook his head. “I will stay.”
“Ye look tired,” she insisted.
“Not as tired as my wife. Should not the babe have come by now?”
“Ah, so that is it,” she said. “Ye fear something is wrong because the baby hasna’ rushed into the world to meet you.”
Frustration wore jagged on his nerves. “You need not worry, my lady wife.”
“Lady wife, is it?” Rhoslyn croaked a laugh.
Diana wrung out a cloth with cool water and mopped her brow.
“Your lady wife is well enough,” Rhoslyn said. “St. Claire, ye know nothing about birthing babies. He will come when he is ready. Some come quickly.” She stiffened and groaned with another contraction. When the pain passed, she said, “Some take their time.”
This child took another four hours. But at last Rhoslyn could no longer resist the urge to push, and Diana told her it was time.
What seemed eons later, Diana cried, “I see the head.”
Talbot jerked his gaze in her direction and froze at sight of his son’s dark hair peeking out from the sheets that covered Rhoslyn’s midsection and thighs.
“Push again, my lady,” Diana ordered.
Rhoslyn’s jaw tightened.
“Harder,” Diana cried.
Rhoslyn groaned with effort. In the next instant, the baby came free with a wail that brought a tightening in Talbot’s chest as Rhoslyn collapsed back onto the pillows.
“Well, well,” Diana said. “It seems ye have a daughter, laird.”
Talbot broke from the spell. “What?”
Diana held up the baby. “A daughter.”
A daughter.
Diana cleaned the baby, then wrapped her in a small blanket and lay her in Rhoslyn’s arm. “Ye must feed her.”
Talbot sat on the bed beside Rhoslyn. He watched transfixed as Rhoslyn guided their daughter’s mouth to her nipple. The babe fumbled for an instant, then latched on as if starving.
Diana laughed. “There is a lass who knows what she wants.”
A few minutes later, Talbot became aware of Diana cleaning up the bedding and cloths. He lifted Rhoslyn and the babe and held them while she spread clean bedding. His chest tightened when Rhoslyn leaned into him and fell asleep with the baby at her breast.
A daughter. He had expected a son. It only made sense they would have daughters, but he had been so sure their first child would be a son. What did a man do with a daughter? Would she always be so...fragile?
Diana finished and he gently laid Rhoslyn and their daughter back on the mattress.
Rhoslyn woke and looked at him. “I know ye wanted a son, St. Claire.”
He tore his gaze from the small bundle and sat on the mattress beside her. Had she been reading his mind? Nay, he never thought he didn’t want a daughter. What in God’s name did a man do with a daughter?
He shook his head. “I wanted our child. Nothing more.”
“But ye talked of nothing but a son.”
“As did you,” he said.
Rhoslyn shifted and held the baby out toward him. He didn’t move.
“Ye should hold your daughter,” she said.
Suddenly, his heart quaked and it seemed every fiber of his being shook. He allowed Rhoslyn to cradle the baby against him, the small head resting in the crook of his arm. He didn’t move.
The women laughed.
“She willna’ break,” Diana said.
“She is so tiny.” He smoothed a tiny lock of hair away from her face. “She has my father’s dark hair.” He looked at Rhoslyn and was startled to see tears in her eyes. “What is amiss?” He sat on the bed beside her, then stood again and looked around for Diana.
Diana rolled her eyes. “Sit beside your wife.” She gave him a gentle shove and he sat down.
“What is wrong, my lady?” he asked Rhoslyn. “Are you ill?”
She shook her head, her eyes on the baby. “She doesna’ have your fair hair.”
Then he understood. Talbot leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Rhoslyn’s sweat soaked forehead, then whispered, “I see a hint of your red hair. She is beautiful.” He placed the baby in Rhoslyn’s arms and was reminded of Lady Taresa’s words. “Have you ever been so in love, that you would have thrown all caution to the wind for her?”
And he understood.
“If ye dinna’ let me see my grandchild, I will kill you, St. Claire,” Seward called from the other side of the curtain.
Diana pulled the curtain back and Seward entered. Sir Derek stood beyond, near the hearth, staring into the fire as if none of them existed. Something he held glistened in the firelight and Talbot realized it was a length of gold and ruby jewelry.
Seward stopped beside Talbot. “A daughter?” he said.
Talbot shifted his gaze to the baron. “Aye.”
“Give her to me,” Seward said. “She needs to know her grandfather.”
* * *
Rhoslyn awoke to a squalling baby.
“She is hungry again.” Diana laid the baby at Rhoslyn’s breast.
Rhoslyn tugged down the top of her shirt and the baby latched onto the exposed nipple.
“She is a lusty one,” Diana said. “Have ye named her yet?”
Rhoslyn looked at St. Claire. He stood at the side of the bed, staring down at the baby with the same dazed look he’d had since she placed the baby in his arms. It seemed that becoming a father had reduced the mighty warrior to mush.
Rhoslyn unexpectedly remembered her intention to ask St. Claire about Abbess Beatrice. What would have happened had the abbess not told him of Rhoslyn’s flight from the convent? She would be in Longford Castle married to Jacobus and waiting for their child to be born. No, St. Claire said he would have razed the castle, then brought her home.
She smiled. “What say you, St. Claire? Have we a name?”
He shook his head.
“Mayhap we should name her after your mother.”
“Aye,” he said, but she knew he wasn’t really listening.
“Peigi,” she urged.
His eyes shifted to her face and understanding glimmered. “I did not know her. Perhaps Taresa? Taresa Peigi?”
A lump formed in her throat. Beyond the alcove, Sir Derek stood near the table at the hearth. She had seen him come and go earlier, seen the sorrow that haunted his dark eyes. She understood that sadness. When Lady Taresa had fallen after Brett Carr’s sword pierced her midsection, Rhoslyn had raced to her side and dropped to her knees beside her.
“Be safe, Rhoslyn,” she had said. “Love him. He is a good man.” Rhoslyn thought those were to be her last words, but she added in a whisper. “Tell him I love him. Tell them both.”
Rhoslyn shifted her gaze to St. Claire. They both had to know Lady Taresa was gone, for she was not with Rhoslyn. But they didn’t know what had happened.
“I did no’ tell you. Taresa—” Sir Derek took a step toward the alcove. Tears choked her throat.
St. Claire sat on the bed beside her and covered her hand with his. The baby’s mouth fell from her breast. She had fallen asleep. Rhosly
n pulled her shirt up over her breast and nestled the baby in her arm, then looked at him.
“She loved ye.” Rhoslyn looked at Sir Derek and said in a louder voice, “She loved you both.”
“What happened?” St. Claire prodded.
“Come closer, Sir Derek,” Rhoslyn urged. He hesitated, then came as close at the invisible line created by the curtain. “Taresa gave her life for us. For all of us.” It took a moment for Rhoslyn to be sure she could speak. Then she said, “Lady Taresa could see the hard pace Dayton set was taking its toll on me. It was clear your brother had no intention of stopping for anything short of death. Lady Taresa rode with Brett Carr. The bastard,” Rhoslyn added under her breath.
“We approached a small forest and she insisted she had to relieve herself. At first, Dayton refused to stop, but she told them she had no qualms about soiling herself and Brett in the bargain. We stopped and they allowed me to dismount. Under the guise or her helping me—which was no lie—we went behind a bush where she showed me a dirk hidden in her boot.”
“She had a blade?” St. Claire said. “Why did she not use it before you left the castle?”
“Because Brett threatened her with a knife to my throat.”
Fury flared in St. Claire’s eyes. “I would kill Dayton twice, if I could.”
“And I would watch.” But that wouldn’t bring Taresa back.
“Ye will have to reattach his head first,” her grandfather said.
Rhoslyn stared at her husband. “Ye severed his head?”
“I promised you his head.”
“And you keep your promises. I assume ye plan to send the head to Edward—once I have had a look?”
“Aye.”
“I wish I could deliver is myself,” she said, then quickly added when St. Claire’s eyes darkened, “Never mind. So, Lady Taresa told me to cry out as if I was in labor. I didna’ want to do it. But she insisted. She had a way of getting her way.”
Sir Derek smiled the first smile Rhoslyn had seen from him.
“I did as she commanded,” Rhoslyn went on, “and the two men hurried over to us. Lady Taresa stepped back and drove her blade down onto Brett when he faced me. I wish it had been Dayton instead, but Brett was closer. He turned in the last instant and deflected the blow. Your brother was furious. He was nothing like the first time he kidnapped me.”
“Dayton can be unstable,” St. Claire said. “Even as a boy he would lose his temper for something small, while maintaining an unnatural detachment.”
“His fury died as quickly as it came,” she said. “He was almost emotionless when he told Brett to kill Lady Taresa.”
Sir Derek cursed.
“Forgive me,” Rhoslyn quickly put in. “I...” She slumped against the pillows. “There is no easy way to tell this story.”
“Would you rather leave?” St. Claire asked Sir Derek.”
He straightened. “Nay. I would hear it all.”
St. Claire gave her a nod.
“There is little else to tell. Brett obeyed.” Rhoslyn grasped his arm. “St. Claire, we must find her. She must have a Christian burial. I remember where they left her.”
“I have already commanded that to be done.” Sir Derek looked at St. Claire. “I assumed you would want her cared for, laird.”
“Aye. I am grateful,” St. Claire replied.
“You know where she is?” Rhoslyn asked.
“We found her.”
“Sweet Jesu,” Rhoslyn whispered.
“She was alive,” St. Claire said. “We were with her until the end.”
Gratitude rushed through Rhoslyn. God hadn’t completely deserted her. “Then she told you.”
“Told us what?”
“That she loved you.” Rhoslyn looked from St. Claire to Sir Derek. “And you, Sir Derek. She wanted you to know that she loved you.”
“She said the words?”
Rhoslyn’s heart wrenched at the hoarse plea she heard in his voice. “Aye, she said the words.”
His gaze shadowed, as if far away. “She never said the words.”
“Her last thought was of you.”
His eyes focused on her. He nodded. “Just as her last words to me were of you and the babe.” He took three steps to the bed, then came down on one knee. “She commanded me to take this from her killer and give this to her great grandchild.” He held out the gold and ruby bracelet Lady Taresa had been wearing.
Rhoslyn gave a small gasp.
He laid the bracelet on the blanket beside the baby. “Her last command was that I should ensure the safety of her great-great grandchild. If you will accept a humble knight’s service, I will protect the new Lady Taresa with my life.”
“Just as your Lady Taresa commanded,” Rhoslyn murmured. She looked at St. Claire.
“This was what she whispered to you in those last moments?” he asked.
“Aye,” Sir Derek replied.
St. Claire gave her a small nod, and she said to Sir Derek, “I appoint you our daughter’s protector. She will be your Lady Taresa.”
Startlement shone in his eyes. Then gratitude. He bowed his head once more. “So long as I breathe, you need never worry for her safety.”
To Rhoslyn’s surprise, St. Claire picked up the baby and rose. She voiced a small cry, then quieted in her father’s arms.
“Rise, Sir Derek, and meet Lady Taresa Peigi St. Claire,” he said.
The knight rose and gave a stiff bow to the baby. Both men stared down at her, and Rhoslyn was reminded of St. Claire’s words when he’d first brought her to Castle Glenbarr. “What man knows peace when he takes a wife?” Yet he looked perfectly at peace now. Was this what he had sought?
He looked up from the baby and met her gaze. Then he smiled a dazzling smile that said all was right with the world. He looked back down at their daughter and Rhoslyn realized her daughter needed a brother to complete the trio.
* * *
When the door opened behind her, Rhoslyn looked up from the rolls she was reading. St. Claire entered. He crossed to the table where she worked and stopped beside the cradle that sat beside Rhoslyn’s bench. At six months old, Lady Taresa Peigi St. Claire had finally begun sleeping through the night.
“It has begun to rain,” he at last said.
“Does that mean John Comyn will be staying?” she asked.
“Aye. We were the last he was to visit.”
Rhoslyn lifted the quill from the parchment. “Are you going to tell me what he said?”
“Edward appointed John Balliol as king.”
She closed her eyes. God help them.
“I am commanded to appear before him.”
Rhoslyn looked sharply at him. “Before John or Edward?”
He stared down at her and her heart began to pound wildly. What would Edward do to St. Claire if he was forced to return to England?
“You say there is no difference between the two men,” he said.
“You cannot return to England,” she said.
“You told me I must obey my Scottish king.”
Sweet God. And he would obey.
Would their new king—or his liege lord—force St. Claire from their home? Rhoslyn placed a palm over her belly. Would he be present for the birth of their son?
###
From the Author
I hope you enjoyed Talbot and Rhoslyn’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I suspect the future holds more for these two and their clan. I have included a sample of My Highland Love, the first book in the Highland Lords series.
Live long and prosper.
Tarah
My Highland Love
How does a woman tell her betrothed she murdered her first husband?
Elise Kingston is a wanted woman. Nothing, not even Highlander Marcus MacGregor, will stop her from returning home to ensure that the man responsible for her daughter's death hangs.
Until she must choose between his life and her revenge.
Chapter One
America
> Winter 1825
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." Or so her eulogy would begin.
The heavy gold wedding band clinked loudly in the silence as he grasped the crystal tumbler sitting on the desk before him. He raised the glass in salutation and whispered into the darkness, "To the dead, may they rot in their watery graves." He finished the whiskey in one swallow.
And what of that which had been hers? He smiled. The law would see that her wealth remained where it should—with him. A finality settled about the room.
Soon, life would begin.
* * * *
Solway Firth, Scottish-English border
Elise jumped at the sound of approaching footsteps and sloshed tea from the cup at her lips. The ship's stateroom door opened and her grip tightened around the delicate cup handle. Her husband ducked to miss the top of the doorway as he entered. He stopped, his gaze fixing on the medical journal that lay open on the secretary beside her. A corner of his mouth curved upward with a derisive twist and his eyes met hers.
With deliberate disinterest, Elise slipped the paper she'd been making notes on between the pages of the journal and took the forestalled sip of afternoon tea. She grimaced. The tea had grown cold in the two hours it had sat untouched. She placed the cup on the saucer, then turned a page in the book. As Robert clicked the door shut behind him, the ship's stern lifted with another wave. She gripped the desk when the stern dropped into the swell's trough. Thunder, the first on the month-long voyage, rumbled. She released the desk. This storm had grown into more than a mere squall.
Robert stepped to her side. "What are you doing?"
"Nothi—" He snatched the paper from the book. "Robert!" She would have leapt to her feet, but her legs were shakier than her hands.
He scanned the paper, then looked at her. "You refuse to let the matter lie."
"You don't care that the doctors couldn't identify what killed your daughter?"
