“Aye, I see. Verra well. I guess we will just enjoy these times without yer clan.” Lyall’s voice rose in pitch. Perhaps she hoped to gain the attention of the men and draw them back to the festivities, but it was of no use. They lay like lumps littered across the ground. There was an affectionate pat to Bryce’s head. “Ye just get them well. We have a big day tomorrow.”
Bryce didn’t say a word as Lyall sauntered away. The men weren’t going to be too happy when Lyall returned to the Sinclair keep with them.
While Bryce stood there staring at this kinsmen, Darla came out of hiding. A finger graced her lips to keep him silent while she made hand motions to indicate she was leaving. Bryce mouthed “Thank ye” before turning to the men and seeing if they needed anything more.
Chapter Forty-Six
The letter to Grant had been sent weeks ago, but as of yet, no word had been received. Arbella’s day was fast approaching, and the whole keep was on edge. Duncan had sent for Charism in the hope Cedric and Sarra would travel with her. It was his greatest desire that Charism would be allowed to deliver his child.
Publicly to friends or privately to Arbella, Duncan would not admit his fear of losing her. Her own mother had bled to death in this very keep while holding her newborn babe. Duncan remembered Arbella’s father, Jameson, and the anguished cries. The young father pleaded with the midwife to cauterize Marie, to go to any means possible to save her life, but the midwife said it was too late. The flow of blood was too much to staunch.
Arbella seemed unfettered. Around the keep she skipped, sharing smiles with everyone. The lady of the house was as happy as a lark. Sometimes he would hear her mumbling, “I can do all things through Christ that strengthens me.” But this was the only indicator she might be worried.
Admittedly, Duncan was worrying enough for the both of them. Arbella had tried to touch him in an affectionate manner for days, but Duncan refused, fearing he would hurt her, the babe, or both. To himself he admitted he found her bulging with his child extremely attractive. In fact, thinking of being with his wife had sent him to the cool lake on more than one occasion, but he knew he had to be strong for the both of them.
This morning Duncan lay beside his beautiful wife. Arbella slept peacefully, her hair spread across the pillow. After many sleepless nights, he’d finally been able to rest. Cedric and Sarra had arrived bring Charism with them. Their presence had relieved many of his fears.
Whispered shushing came from the rooms down the hall as Cedric and Sarra worked to keep Thomas Duncan and their daughter, Etta, from waking the entire keep. It was hard to comprehend that in just a few short days, he and Arbella would be in a similar situation.
Beside him Arbella tensed. Her face tightened, then relaxed. Either the lady was having a bad dream, or — could it be time? Could labor pains occur in sleep? Duncan’s hand posed to shake her, but realizing she probably needed any and all rest she could get, he refrained.
Out of bed, Duncan paced. With quick steps to the window, he opened the shutter and looked outside. Where were Grant, Bryce, and the others? They had waited for this day just as the other clan members had. They should be here to rejoice with the family. A hurried glance backward showed Arbella writhing on the bed.
Footsteps fell in a rush as Duncan flew to her side and felt her forehead. Pale skin was cool and clammy. Warm fingers brushed her hair aside, causing her eyes to flutter open. Glazed orbs stared. “Duncan, I think—” She was unable to finish as her whole body tensed once again. After she relaxed, she continued, “You should retrieve Charism.”
“I don’t want to leave ye alone.”
A deep, angry, gravelly voice came from her small, feminine body. “Go get her now!”
Duncan hurried to do his wife’s bidding. He would berate Arbella later about speaking to her laird in such a demanding manner, or perhaps he would wrap her in his arms and be glad she was still alive.
With haste, he ran down the hall and retrieved Sarra and Charism. Etta squealed loudly in protest as she was thrust into her father’s waiting arms. Duncan would have liked to apologize to Cedric, but there was no time. Rushing back to his rooms, he found the door shut.
Knuckles rapping against the wood, Sarra appeared and opened the door but an inch asking, “What?”
“I wish to be with Arbella.”
“Just a moment.” The door closed. Sarra returned and opened the door. “Come in.”
Arbella raised a hand, motioning Duncan forward. With deliberation, he scooted to her side and sat down. Sarra handed him a bowl of water and a cloth with instructions. He was to wet it, wring it out, and dab Arbella’s forehead. Duncan complied. The extreme agony his wife experienced upset him. It appeared there was nothing that could be done to ease the suffering.
The sudden urge to talk caused him to babble. “Do ye remember the day before our wedding?”
“Aye,” said Arbella, smiling between pains.
“I don’t believe I have ever seen a muddier lass. And one who insisted on getting hitched in such a state wasn’t normal.”
Arbella watched Duncan. Her hair was matted to her head; sweat ran down her face. “Duncan, you must promise me something.”
“Lass, ye could ask me for the moon, and I would find a way to jump up and grab it for ye.”
“Oh, Duncan that is sweet.” She paused for another contraction before continuing. “You must promise me.” Contraction. “Promise me.” Contraction.
Duncan eyes widen as he stared at Charism. Arbella’s contractions were closer together and more intense. “Charism?”
Charism’s head was under the cover. Instead of answering Duncan’s question, she yelled, “I see the head.”
Duncan’s palms were covered in sweat. This was it. This was the moment they had anticipated together for the last six months. Prepared for fatherhood, the question remained as to whether he also would become a widower.
“Arbella, I want ye to push only when ye feel the painin’, all right?”
Arbella nodded. As the next contraction hit, she bore down, letting out a mighty roar. Duncan’s hand was grasped before the pains hit and now felt as if it were breaking in two.
“That was a good one, lass. Just one more time. Ye have to do it just one more time.”
Duncan expected Arbella to say she was too tired because, in his opinion, his lady looked utterly exhausted, but she said nothing. When the next pain hit, she pushed. At the end of it, Charism expressed a grunting noise as she hoisted a babe in the air and slapped its exposed bottom. Both mother and father exhaled when a wee babe’s cry was heard.
Charism wrapped the babe, handing it to its mother. While Arbella caressed the child, Charism continued to work. As fingers moved deftly around Arbella’s still protruding abdomen, the midwife frowned. Without warning the babe was snatched from Arbella’s hands and thrust at a stunned Sarra.
“Charism, what are you doing?” asked Sarra.
“This lass isn’t done.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I thought the babe was awful small, and I was right. There is still another babe in ye, and it is gettin’ prepared to come into this here world.”
****
Duncan and Arbella’s son was a tad more stubborn than their daughter. Originally the ladies would have said Arbella had one of the easiest labors ever witnessed, but the second birth changed their minds.
Andrew Fletcher Sinclair decided early on he was going to be difficult. First of all, Charism tugged and coaxed Arbella’s stomach until the babe could be introduced to the exit. Then when Charism checked the babe’s position, his feet were pointing downward. For what seemed like hours, the midwife pulled and pushed, poked and prodded in an attempt to turn the wee babe, but all to no avail. Finally when it was noticed that Arbella was becoming so fatigued she might not be able to birth the babe if it didn’t happen soon, Charism made the decision for the lass to push, no matter the positioning and pray the good Lord was watching out for them. Charism d
idn’t tell the couple if the babe became wedged she would have to break its wee neck and pull it free to save Arbella’s life. She was praying babe number two was as little as babe number one, and Arbella would have the room to push him out, no matter if his feet were first.
****
Duncan didn’t know one wit about birthing a babe, but he could tell Sarra and Charism were worried. He began to pray. Frankly, he should have been doing it all along. Sarra had showed him the words of the Savior in his own language while he’d visited her clan some years past. She had witnessed to him on many occasions, and he had felt secure in his faith until today.
Even Arbella had revealed her faith and started to witness to him, explaining why she was satisfied in this life, no matter what she had been given or what calamity befell her. Still he refused to give his complete self to God. For most scenarios in his life, he’d always had someone to depend on. First his parents were always there and helped take care of his needs. Then Cainneach was a helper and a rock of stability. Next came his cousins Boyd and Filib. Never had he experienced a situation he couldn’t handle on his own or with a minimum of familial assistance. He was always in control or in charge of what happened around him, but not this time. This time he had no control. This time his wife or child might live or die, and there was nothing he could do to change it.
As the room was filled with Arbella’s exhausted cries of agony and Charism’s grunts, and his daughter slept peacefully in Sarra’s arms, Duncan released his fears and mumbled a prayer. Not my will but your will be done, knowing in the end that could mean being without Arbella. A desire to learn the Word more thoroughly entered his being. Sarra maintained one just needed to know how to read and be willing to learn, and Duncan was both of these things.
Through the prayer a hearty cry was heard. A glance at Arbella revealed a pale but steadily breathing lass. The midwife placed the last babe on the bed. Sarra then offered the first babe to Duncan.
“Nay, I canna.”
“Duncan you have to take her so I can clean your son. You will do all right.”
“But she is so little.”
“Duncan, you are her father. Don’t you remember Thomas? You held him.”
“Aye, I did, but I wasn’t responsible for keeping him safe.”
Sarra’s eyebrow rose. “Really?”
“Oh, Sarra, it just feels different.”
Duncan opened his arms, and Sarra laid his sleeping daughter into them. Without even a backward glance, she walked to the bed and cleaned the next babe. The lad was a squirmy little thing with a decent set of lungs.
Charism worked with Arbella, making her comfortable. The blood acted in a normal manner, and Duncan heard her pent-up sigh release.
Duncan couldn’t stop staring at his daughter, but when he finally did, he noticed Arbella sitting up in bed, holding their son. “What do you think?”
“Well, I think now I know why ye was so big.”
Arbella knitted her brow as she directed a question to Sarra. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Aye?”
“Can you give me something to throw?”
The room erupted into laughed, allowing the tension from the labor to disperse.
“What are we naming these two fomenters?” asked Duncan, while staring at the bundle sleeping peacefully in his arms.
“What do you say to Andrew Fletcher and Glenna Rose?”
“Sounds mighty fine. Mighty fine indeed.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
The first few days after the birth passed slowly. Everyone in the keep was still worried about losing Arbella. Within two weeks, Arbella was up and about, and things started to feel more normal. Cedric and Duncan spent time catching up while Sarra and Arbella got to know one another. Sarra was apt to share mothering advice, and Arbella was grateful for it. Since neither one of them had had a mother growing up, they grasped this bond and became fast friends.
After a few weeks, Cedric and Sarra readied to depart. “Are you sure you have to leave? What if one of the babes wakes with a fever or—”
Sarra interrupted, “Charism has instructed Tamara on ways to help you. You will be fine.”
Arbella studied her son as he sucked greedily from the breast. The lad ate twice as much as his sister and kept Arbella up most of the night. Even with the inconvenience, her heart soared with joy. Not only had she received one blessing, but two.
The other baby was cradled against Duncan. Glenna Rose snuggled in a blanket, making not a peep as her father said good-bye to Cedric. “Ye will promise to visit again soon?”
“Of course. And as soon as ye are able, ye must come and bring the children to Greenbriar.”
“Sounds like an interesting idea.”
Thomas Duncan chose this time to run up and grab his mother’s skirts. “Pony?”
“I know, dear. We are going home to your pony. Now give Arbella and Duncan a good-bye hug.”
Arbella readjusted Andrew and leaned over. She patted Thomas on the head before adding, “I will miss you, little one.”
Saying nothing, he gave her a lopsided grin and ran off to say good-bye to Duncan.
Thomas tugged at Duncan until all attention was on him. Duncan said, “Cedric, would ye mind holding yer goddaughter until I tell me godson good-bye.”
“It would be a pleasure,” Cedric answered, taking the small girl in his arms and cooing.
Sarra’s eyes rolled. “He loves babes. By the next time you see me, I will probably have five or more hanging from my skirt tails.”
“Won’t it be wonderful,” Arbella said.
With a chortle, Sarra added, “Aye, it will.”
After much crying and wiping of faces, Cedric and family were loaded and headed out the keep gates. They waved as the horses clopped away toward their home. Duncan and Arbella retreated inside the keep for a much-needed nap.
****
After the night’s festivities, Grant’s eyes felt glued to his cheeks. His hand, which felt as if it was weighted, lifted to his face, and pried his eyelids up. The sun seared them, and he was unable to leave them open long. The orbs felt like they were roasting on an open fire.
“Good morning, sunshine,” came Bryce’s voice, sounding as if it came from a great distance.
“Where are ye, Bryce?” It was such a struggle to say those four words Grant didn’t know if he would ever speak again.
“I’m right in front of ye. Where do ye think I am?”
“Oh. Don’t speak so loudly.” Grant’s head felt like it had been hit by an anvil. “What happened to me?”
Bryce moved in closer, allowing the tone of his voice to soften. “Darla said Lyall poisoned ye, but she fixed it.”
“Who fixed it?”
“Why, Darla, of course. Think about it, cousin. Why would Lyall poison ye and then fix it.” Bryce’s head shook, and he muttered, “The idiocy of such a thought. Maybe the poison affected yer wits?”
“All right, ye are making better sense now.” Grant didn’t mean it, but Bryce’s mumbled words and crazed stare led him to believe he needed to say something in his defense.
“Are ye ready to head out?”
Grant squinted. “Head out where?”
From Bryce came noises of dissatisfaction. “Now, Grant Cameron, I have put up with livin’ in this place for over nine months because ye was my family, but today is the day ye said we was going home, and I don’t care if ye are drowning in yer own vomit when I put ye on the back of the horse, we are leavin’ here today!”
Grant was surprised by Bryce’s forcefulness. In general the lad was subservient. Grant felt terrible for keeping Bryce from the Cameron keep and his future bride. He pushed himself to a standing position. His belly rolled with the effort, but he held down the contents. The room felt like it was spinning out of control. Using his hands, he held his head in one place. He was as determined to leave the Burns’s keep as Bryce was. The desire to ride to the Sinclair’s keep, tell all his friends good-bye, and head on
home to Cameron lands was driving him.
Bryce didn’t know it yet, but he wouldn’t be traveling to Cameron lands alone. Grant had received distressing news about his younger brother just a few days prior. He needed to go home.
One quick glance around the stables revealed other men lying around. Feet shuffling, Grant went to them, kicking them lightly. He received nothing but incoherent grunts and groans for all his efforts. Did he dare yell? Aye, he did.
“All right, ye lazy, worthless, shiftless men, get off yer bums and get on yer horses, for today we ride home.”
The men rolled over in unison and struggled to get off the ground. They staggered to the courtyard where Bryce had prepared the horses. Already astride his own beast, he frowned.
“Come on, men, the day is wastin’.”
Grant studied the saddled animals. “Is Lyall coming with us?”
Bryce and the others mumbled under their breath, “Who cares,” when they saw Lyall walk out the keep doors while pulling on riding gloves. Approaching the saddled horse, she stepped into the stirrups and slung herself astride. A servant followed behind, securing her belongings to one of the animal’s packing gear.
Once atop the beast, Lyall bellowed, “Like Bryce said, the day is wanin’.” Heels kicking the horse’s flank, she set into a trot, forcing the others to be quick in order to catch up.
Bryce waited on Grant. Once mounted, Grant turned his horse around in a circle looking for Darla. “Where do you think she is? I wanted to thank her for all the help.”
“I haven’t seen her since last night. She must have decided to stay out of Lyall’s sight just to be on the safe side.”
“I guess ye are right.” He kicked the horse and set off. The Camerons and Sinclairs rode through the gates, attempting to catch a speeding Lyall, who behaved as if the hounds of hell were upon her heels once again.
Grant couldn’t help but wonder why Lyall was in such a rush to return to the Sinclair’s keep when almost a year previous she’d been in such haste to leave. Maybe with time her true motives would be revealed.
By God's Grace Page 24
