Would I have to quit?
I’d been working my entire adult life. Was this even something I wanted?
I stared at the word “pregnant” on the test in my hand, still in shock.
Hugh brushed a lock of hair behind my ear and tipped my chin up so I would look at him.
“Sam,” he started.
“We’re having a baby?” The words came out as a question, and it reminded me of just a few months before when I’d asked him if we were getting married after he proposed.
“We’re having a baby,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that was bursting with pride.
A brilliant, euphoric smile stretched across his face, and when he cupped my cheek with his hand, I saw in his eyes a look that echoed the mayhem I was feeling. His eyes were glossy, welling up with tears. He leaned down to kiss me, his hands holding my face and his lips so soft, slow, and relentless, determined to give me a good show of his feelings for me.
My heart grew two sizes in my chest, barely leaving any room for air.
“We’re having a baby,” I repeated against his lips, our noses touching. His warm laughter washed over me.
His hands cupped my ass and he brought me closer to him, our bodies flush, the plastic stick still hanging from my hand. I placed it on the bathroom counter then wrapped my arms around his neck.
The look of awe in his eyes was only comparable to the one he’d had when I’d stood next to him at the altar.
Hard to believe it had only been three months since that day.
“I love you,” my voice was merely a whisper, as if I’d just had a revelation. My love for him was my truth.
“I love you, too. Do ye think you’ll ever recover from the shock?”
I laughed bashfully, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the spicy sent of his skin.
“Eventually. Maybe if you kiss me again.”
His lips were on mine in no time, and if his previous kiss had been sweet and soft, this one was passionate and rough, the touch of his fingers across my back sending tingles all over my body.
I broke the kiss, gasping for air. I gave him a dreamy look through hooded eyes.
“I love you and your super sperm.”
“Hardly,” he said with a laugh.
“And he’s modest, too,” I joked.
“Sam, I know you’re scairt. I am, too, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m more than just a wee bit excited. I’ve always wanted this with you.”
I smiled. I loved when his accent made an appearance, loved the sound of his voice, so deep and gravelly. His voice was a siren’s call I couldn’t ignore. It ignited my soul and my body.
God, I love him so much.
My eyes brimmed with tears and he frowned, worry clouding his blue depths.
“I’m okay, I swear, just emotional, that’s all. Guess that’s bound to happen.”
“Sam, you’re not doing this alone. We’re going to figure everything out. If it’s work you’re worried about, I’m more than willing to do anything I can to make it easier.”
He said we could turn his trailer into a nursery if necessary, and if we kept staying in St. Martin for Abarath in the future, we would find the bairn a nanny close by.
When we came out of the bathroom with the test in hand, we found the whole family sitting in the living room, waiting for us to tell them the news.
It was a flurry of hugs, kisses, and cheers.
The MacLeod boys were being so loud that Fiona and Declan had to tell them to shut up or they were going to wake Claire and Rory. Still, we’d only done one test; we needed to make sure I was undoubtedly pregnant.
My in-laws, never short on resourcefulness, were able to call in a favor from a gynecologist friend of theirs. Having someone open their practice just for us on Christmas Eve made me suddenly feel very Hollywood.
For a moment, I did feel like Beyoncé.
It was a matter of minutes before another test at the doctor’s office confirmed I was knocked up.
The best part came a little later, when the doctor—a short, skinny woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a kind, patient face—made me lie down and squirted some gel on my belly. It was as cold as they say in the movies.
As soon as the ultrasound wand touched my belly, the doctor pointed out the tiny blinking dot on the screen.
“That’s your baby. Congratulations, it looks like you are pregnant, indeed,” she said with a smile. “Do you see how it blinks? It’s a very strong heartbeat.”
I exchanged a look with my husband and let out a surprised chuckle.
It was then that the doctor turned the sound on and the beat of our baby’s heart filled the whole room. The doctor was right—it was strong. The whooshing thump thump filled the room, and it made my own heart soar in my chest.
I locked eyes with Hugh, who was beaming with sheer joy. My nose pricked and my eyes filled up with tears. They began streaming down my face faster than I could brush them away.
I laughed, startled and confused by the mayhem of feelings.
My baby. Our baby.
This was our baby’s heart.
Somehow, that was all I needed to see things in a different light.
It was then that every doubt and fear I’d had until that moment vanished.
My baby’s heart.
Blood of our blood. Sum of the two of us. Fruit of our love.
Love.
Love was a force stronger than anything else; fear was no match for it. Fear couldn’t stop the blooming, instant, fierce love I felt for our baby from that moment on.
“It’s our baby,” I said to Hugh, completely in awe.
He was holding my hand, smiling unabashedly, eyes damp with tears. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and let out a laugh. He was feeling the same ecstatic joy I was experiencing.
He leaned down to kiss my forehead and then my lips. He cupped my cheek, staring at me with his brilliant blue gaze full of awe, dancing between my eyes and my lips.
“That’s right, Sam. We’re going to be parents.”
WE’D GONE to church at midnight, and I was just about dead on my feet, even after the nap I’d taken earlier in the afternoon.
It had been an eventful Christmas Eve.
Our recent news made the celebrations at the MacLeods’ house even more jubilant. We were walking back home from church, and my father-in-law was telling me the story of how Christmas wasn’t even celebrated in Scotland until the mid-fifties. He explained that it was a purely religious function and the holiday that was observed instead was Hogmanay, the Scottish New Year’s.
Just then my phone started ringing with a FaceTime call from Amira. I told her to call me when they were all together, but I didn’t tell her we had news.
She called back just a few minutes later.
“Hey everyone,” I said, waving my hand to my family peeking in on the call from the other side of the world.
I was happy, but a sudden ache spread through my chest.
I missed them.
It was my first Christmas without them, and on top of that, I had been through a roller coaster of emotions the last two days. When I saw them waving at me, I could barely hold it together.
Fuck you, hormones, for making me so emotional.
“Hi, everyone. Merry Christmas!” Hugh said, taking over. “Kathleen and Anwar, we have some news for you.”
Hugh glanced in my direction as I held the phone up so we could both be on the screen. He cocked one eyebrow, waiting for me to say something.
“Well, I suppose it’s news for everyone, really . . .”
“You’re pregnant! Oh, my god! You’re pregnant!” Amira let out excitedly, officially stealing our thunder.
I rolled my eyes playfully. Leave it to my sister. It was uncanny how similar she and Cecilia were.
Hugh wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze.
“We are! We just found out,” I replied.
My mother’s shrieks of “My dau
ghter is having a baby!” echoed through the quiet Oxford street.
“Shhhh, Mom. It’s kind of late here. We’re on our way back home.”
“Samhain, are you going to be okay to travel?”
“Travel? You mean before I have the baby? It’s a long time from now, and we haven’t discussed anything yet.”
“No, when you come visit us in a few days.”
“Kathleen, I haven’t told her yet,” Hugh chimed in, letting out a slightly annoyed sigh.
“Oops . . . my bad,” my mother said as I questioningly eyed my husband.
HUGH
“WE’RE GOING TO LA? To see my parents?”
I pursed my lips together and didn’t answer.
“Come on! My mom let the cat out of the bag already. Why don’t you just tell me?”
“Let’s get to my parents’ house and then I will tell you everything. By the way, what’s with the sudden burst of energy? I thought you were dead tired. You were dozing off in church.”
“I was not!” she said, horrified.
“You so were.”
“Oh, shit! Was I?” She brought a hand to her mouth and covered a yawn. “It was a beautiful service, but man . . . it was long.”
I laughed. “I guarantee you’re not the first or last to fall asleep during mass.”
“So, what’s this surprise you have for me? Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” she said with a coy smile.
“No, lass, I’m not telling ye—wait . . . ye have a surprise for me? Of what nature?” I winked and she laughed, eyes bright and amused.
“Not of the nature you’re thinking, but it’s a good one, I promise.”
“Fine. You got me all curious now. Let’s go home and I’ll show you my surprise.”
WE SAT cross-legged on the bed, face to face, my wife with a look of impatience and excitement to match that of a five-year-old.
“I believe I owe you a honeymoon,” I said, placing the envelope with the tickets in her hand.
“You don’t owe me anything, but I will never say no to a trip, and I want us to go on a honeymoon so badly,” she said with a dreamy sigh.
She opened the envelope and her eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline when she looked at the tickets. A wide, excited smile stretched across her face and her brown eyes were luminous, her gaze almost as incredulous as when we’d stared at the positive sign on the pregnancy test.
“Hawaii? We’re going to Maui?”
“How does that song from Moana go again? Ah, yes: you’re welcome.”
“Since when do you quote Disney songs?”
“Since Claire and Rory have been watching that movie nonstop since we’ve been here. The song got stuck in my head,” I explained.
She threw her arms around my neck and pressed her lips against mine. When she pulled back, the breath from her contented sigh tickled my skin. Her eyes were round and bright, looking at me with a mix of amusement and adoration.
“You are such a nerd! I love it! But what are we going to do with the show’s ‘no tan’ rule for you?”
“I asked and it will be okay as long as I get no more than a faint glow. You’ll have to lather me up with 100 SPF sunscreen every hour.”
“I guess, if I must,” she said with a wink.
“If you must, aye?” I playfully narrowed my eyes at her, and she held me closer to her.
“It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it, I suppose. Got to keep the Hollywood star happy and all.”
I cocked one eyebrow. “I’m hardly a Hollywood star.”
“Really? Then why are you so difficult?” she teased, and I tickled her around her waist. She squirmed under my hands and begged me to stop.
“So, we’re going to Hawaii—what about LA, though?”
“We’re stopping there for a couple of days. I thought you might want to see your family. I know you want to be here with me, Sam, but I can’t help feeling like I stole you away from them.” She laughed and shook her head while I scratched the back of mine.
I had given this a lot of thought, but she didn’t seem fazed by it in the slightest.
“I will always miss my family, Hugh, but this is the happiest I’ve ever been, and I honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything. You are my life—you and the bairn,” she said sheepishly, using the Scottish word I’d used for baby. “You are the most precious things to me. I can make do without my family, but I can’t make do without you. You are everything to me.”
Her words caused my heart to swell up in my chest with pride and joy.
I nodded but didn’t say anything. The love I felt for her was like a rush of adrenaline, an incredible, invigorating force radiating through my body.
I caressed her face and cupped her cheek with my hand.
“Merry Christmas, wife,” I said, placing a small kiss on her lips. She sighed against my mouth, her fingers running through my hair.
The kiss went on for a while, and then Sam stopped suddenly, as if she’d just remembered something.
“Now, my turn!” Sam said excitedly as she handed me an envelope.
When I opened it, it took me a bit to realize what it was.
I was reading through legal documents of the newly founded MacLeod Performing Arts Foundation, which was designed to give scholarships to kids and teens who didn’t have access to arts or musical programs.
Sam and I had talked about it months back, and I’d told her it was something I would love to do in the future. I frowned, wondering just when and how she’d even had the time to get things into motion.
I let out an incredulous laugh and ran my hand through my hair.
“Remember when we had that conversation about how you and I were both so lucky to grow up in an environment that allowed us to pursue artistic endeavors? Well, when you said something about creating a foundation for kids who can’t afford an instrument or an art program, I knew I wanted to help however I could.”
“Sam, this is fantastic, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Of course, I want you to help me with this,” I said, waving the papers in the air.
“It would be my honor,” she said with a bit of hesitation and an amused, coy smile stretched across her face.
“Is there something else you need to tell me?”
She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Actually, yes. I had been researching months ago about getting the foundation started, but you know . . . you need capital to get things going, too.”
“Well, maybe in time we can have a fundraiser,” I interjected.
“Hold on, there’s something else. When we got married, I got asked over and over what we wanted. Some people wanted to get us stuff, while other friends and family wanted to know if we wanted a donation made to our favorite charity. Well, I told them I would let them know after I talked to you, since I didn’t want to make all the decisions . . .”
“Having you make all the decisions was the best decision I ever made.” I leaned down and gave her a small peck on the lips.
“Smart man,” she joked. “Well, after I found a consultant for the nonprofit, I reached out to our friends and family and told them about our next project.” She bit her lip and one of her hands went down to her belly. Her eyes welled up with tears in an instant.
“Mo chridhe, what is it?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I just realized the bairn is really our next project. I’m still getting used to the idea—it’s been such a whirlwind.”
Her shoulders sank as she let out a deep breath. She didn’t look scared, but she seemed a bit pensive.
“I ken what you mean, Sam, but it’s always been a whirlwind with us because I couldn’t stay away from you. The bairn and the foundation are our next projects. So, you were saying . . . we got some donations coming in?”
A soft sigh escaped her pink lips.
“Our friends and families have been incredibly generous.” One of her hands reached my cheek and I covered it with
mine. “There are still a lot of details to iron out, but the MacLeod Foundation has its first million to start with.”
I was speechless. I couldn’t believe she had been so dedicated to get this started, and I couldn’t believe the generosity of our friends and family.
“Sam, that’s fantastic. It’s the best present you could ever give me—besides this one,” I said, sliding my hand down her stomach.
“Merry Christmas, Hugh. I can’t wait to see you change the lives of people around you with your compassionate, caring heart. I can’t wait to see you hold our son or daughter. I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with you.”
The knot in my throat prevented me from saying anything for a moment; I simply couldn’t utter any words. There was just the overwhelming, almost unbearable weight of the love and devotion I had for my wife.
My Sam.
I kissed her on the forehead, on her cheek, and on her lips, my hand gently pressing on her belly as I found my voice again.
“I love you with all my life, mo chridhe. Merry Christmas.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hilaria Alexander was born and raised in the south of Italy, where her family still lives. She was bit by the travel bug early on and lived in Tokyo and Orlando for a while before settling down in Oklahoma City with her husband and kids.
She loves books - obviously - as well as movies and TV, and is addicted to award shows. She can't play an instrument to save her life, but she loves music, which is one of her biggest inspirations when plotting new stories. If you have questions about her or her books, ask her on Facebook and Twitter, or email her at [email protected]. For excerpts, news and giveaways, join her readers group.
You can find her books on Amazon.
Table of Contents
A Scottish Christmas
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Author
A Scottish Christmas (Lost in Scotland Book 3) Page 5
