The Scotsman Who Saved Me

by Hannah Howell

  Iain walked up behind her, put his arms around her, and placed his hands on her belly. “It will be a wee lass.”

  He grinned when she sighed. They had been having the same disagreement for nine long months, starting it before he had even realized she was carrying his child. Mrs. O’Neal was kept busy judging every change in Emily and still had not decided what she was having. Emily felt it was sure to be a boy because he had six brothers. He simply felt it was time for a change and, he admitted, he enjoyed poking at her conviction that it was a boy.

  “And then there are the troubles he may have to go through.” She twisted her hands as she fretted. “I had not realized how wide it had spread or how vicious it had become when I wrote him.” She turned in his arms and looked up at him, her well-rounded belly pushing her from him. “There is so much that could happen to him as he travels here.”

  “I dinnae think traveling across England is all that safe, either, love.”

  “No, but they are not a country torn apart all trying to kill each other. Not for a few hundred years anyway.”

  “A lot of people travel about the country still and do so safely. I agree, it is a bad time but that doesnae mean he will suffer for it.”

  She rubbed her belly and thought on warning him that she was fairly certain she was in labor. Inwardly she then shook her head. The minute she said anything he would get all commanding, ordering everyone about and making her go lie down. She could have hours yet before she gave birth and she did not want to spend them all confined to her bed.

  The ache had been there when she had woken up in the morning. Emily had asked every woman she knew who had borne a child what their birthing pains had been like and how they had begun, how they felt as they strengthened and how they knew it was getting near time to have the baby. They had all been honest with her even though they had been reluctant at first, afraid of terrifying her. She had convinced them that she was fully aware that birthing a child was a painful business and all she wanted to know was how painful and how to recognize when she was actually in labor.

  Right now all she was truly worried about was where her grandfather was. There had not been the time to warn him about the troubles. She had written to him as soon as she had realized the scope of the rift that had split the country but mail was neither swift nor sure. Emily doubted her letter would have gotten to him in time to stop him.

  Iain’s hand covered hers and she realized she had been rubbing her stomach the whole time she had been thinking. She glanced up at him and he was frowning down at her belly. Curious as to what he might be seeing she looked down. The man’s hand was still resting there and she knew her belly was harder than it had been, the baby still. Emily was not sure he could feel that ache that had woken her up this morning but she began to wonder.

  “Emily?” he said quietly.

  She returned her gaze to the gates and wondered what she could say only to tense as a big, fancy carriage came rolling through. A carriage she knew very well. Her grandfather had had his own people build it for him and it had a lot of comforts from the fold-down table to the seats that were easily changed to beds. The people who got to see the inside all wanted to buy it or have him make one for them.

  “He is here,” she cried out softly, pleased to see that her grandfather had arrived and eager to see he was hale.

  His Grace climbed out of the carriage the moment it stopped and she sighed with relief. The man was accustomed to his title working to keep him relatively protected but that title was not worth much here. His mode of travel, however, could all too easily make him a tempting target for thieves in this country of which they had far too many and all armed.

  “Good Lord, girl,” her grandfather said laughingly as he stepped up to give her a hug and kiss her on the cheek, “are you sure you carry but the one?”

  “Yes. Only one. I tried to get a letter to you to tell you not to come. The troubles . . .”

  “I know about them. It is going to be a long bloody fight. Always is when a country is fighting itself.” He shook Iain’s hand. “Trying to keep out of the way here?”

  “As much as possible, aye.”

  “Smart man.”

  “Come in and we will get you something to eat and drink, Grandfather.”

  “That would be very welcome.” He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked inside. “Where is my heir?”

  “Being fetched from the yard. If you knew about it all, why did you travel here? You should have waited until it passed.”

  “Emily, wars are unpredictable. Occasionally you get a short one that doesn’t leave everyone bruised and bloody but all too often they are very bloody and very long. I don’t have the time to sit and wait. Who can say, this could be another like we fought with France.”

  “Which one?” asked Iain and the duke laughed.

  “Are you sick?” she asked with concern.

  “No. Not at all. Just know about men fighting is all. Don’t make the mistake of thinking myself young, either. And here is your Mrs. O’Neal. Greetings, my lady.” He caught Mrs. O’Neal’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I pray all is well with you?”

  “That it is. Come sit in the dining room and I will bring you something. Tea?”

  “Yes, that would be most welcome. Thank you.”

  “I will go and make sure the men get the carriage and horse tucked up right.” Iain kissed Emily on the cheek and hurried off.

  Emily and her grandfather were barely seated when Neddy came in, prompted by Mrs. O’Neal, Emily suspected. The last she had seen of the child he had been happily playing ball with the other boys. She watched as her grandfather hugged the boy and relaxed. Emily had feared he might turn away from Neddy as his heir because his father had not been gentry but she should have known better.

  Iain came in and took the seat next to her. He was staring at her belly again and she was afraid he could see how it felt, which was a ridiculous thought, she scolded herself. Her belly was hidden behind a wide skirt and nobody could see what was happening with it, except for the fact that it had grown.

  It was difficult but she held back a sound of surprise when the ache turned into a pain. “How was the journey then, Grandfather?”

  “It was pleasant enough. The scenery is different enough, and plentiful enough to keep one’s mind pleasantly occupied. We had no incidents and plentiful warnings about where any trouble was. We had a pretty uneventful journey. Ah, Malcolm did meet a rattler? I think that is what you call them.”

  “He was not bitten though, I hope.”

  “No. Screamed like a woman, however.” He smiled when Emily laughed.

  Mrs. O’Neal hurried in and started to put food on the table and a pot of tea. She next brought in coffee for Iain and a glass of apple cider for Neddy. When Emily made a move to help her the woman held her down with a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “Shall I take something out for your men, Your Grace?” Mrs. O’Neal asked. “Or I can tell them to come on into the kitchen where I can feed them.”

  “If it would not be too much of a burden, I believe they would be quite pleased to eat in the kitchen. They have eaten outside or on the back of their horses for too long.”

  “One day we will have inns and such along the way, like the civilized countries. Well, after these fools are done killing each other,” she muttered as she went to call in the duke’s men.

  Her grandfather watched Mrs. O’Neal leave with a half smile on his face. “Women do have their way of reducing all men to utter rubbish.”

  “It is a gift,” said Emily. “And ‘fools’ is the right word. I have the awful feeling that at the very bottom of all the talk of rights and loyalty and so forth, it comes down to money. In the open it is one side demands something and will not bend and the other demands they see their side of things and will not bend. I call that idiocy.”

  The duke nodded. “It is. It is also the ways most wars begin. And the people who do not care either way are caught in the mi
ddle. The money? Quite possible, it is usually at the root of everything bad. At least this time it is not us.”

  “I did hear one man talking about the French helping the Rebs though.” Iain looked at the duke. “Others say the English are helping. Even Spain is dipping its toe in the water.”

  “All those countries that would love to see this country brutally wound itself so they can, perhaps, slide right back into it.”

  “They’d never get in. Too many of us running about armed. Will be less soon, sad to say. If the listing of the dead after a battle is any indication it will be a lot less. Bloody slaughterhouse. And ye have to watch what ye say depending on where ye are, because showing any sympathy for the wrong side in the wrong place is a killing offense.” Iain shook his head. “Idiots are destroying what they had, what most of the people like me would die for. A place where you can own your own land, put your own house on it, no matter who ye are. Just pay for it and it is all yours.”

  “And no lords to rule over you.”

  “No offense meant, Your Grace,” said Iain. “But what man doesnae want to be free of all that?”

  “None. In fact, my own men who have been at my side for years are casting a longing look at the places we go through as we come here. I pay well, too,” he added with a grin.

  “Ye would let them go, aye?”

  “Of course. If nothing else, what good is a man who no longer wants the job but is held by tradition or lack of choice.” He waved his hand. “You got out although I wish that damn idiot woman had offered a choice instead of tossing out a whole family.”

  “Weel, ye tossed her and her whole family out, I hear.”

  “Did not want that nasty business connected to the Stanton name. I may have whispered a word or two about what had been done in a sympathetic ear as well.”

  “Grandfather, you did not get her banished from society, did you?”

  “Of course not. Just felt it should be known why the family is disowned. No harm in that.” He helped himself to some of the eggs and ham on the table.

  “Sneaky.”

  “Probably but one must allow we old folks our little pleasures.” He ate some of Mrs. O’Neal’s excellent scrambled eggs. “My men must be in heaven right now sitting in a warm kitchen eating food like this. Malcolm might even forgive me for dragging him to someplace where they have such things as rattlers.”

  “Is he one who ye think is thinking of coming here or wishing on it?” asked Iain, who helped himself to a piece of ham.

  “I think so but that may have changed his thinking.”

  “Why? Rattlers here. Adders in England,” said Emmy. “Every place has its snake in the garden. This place might just have more but because it has not been settled for hundreds upon hundreds of years. So, people have not killed all the things they do not like.”

  “True and surprisingly cynical for you, Emmy. Have you found something you do not like here then?”

  “Well, winter can be more brutal than I like but I have a house and fireplaces. Wolves grab his lambs but Iain has put up a fence and keeps a close watch. The vastness. And I have not found a solution for that yet.”

  “The vastness?” Her grandfather frowned and ate his eggs. “You are right. That is hard to adjust to and if it matters as to getting goods or having friends, even more so.” He frowned and looked at her. “Emmy? You looked pained and startled. A very odd combination.”

  “Can you get Mrs. O’Neal, Iain?” she asked quietly, not sure how there was any way she could get out of the awkward position she now found herself in with any grace at all.

  “Mrs. O’Neal!” bellowed Iain, and Neddy nearly fell out of his chair he was giggling so hard.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “I could have done that.”

  “Then why didnae ye?”

  The way he was watching her told her she was not hiding much at all from him. A glance at her grandfather said the same about him. There would be no slipping away with her wet skirts and not letting anyone know her water had broken. She would have to get to her bed soon though if the waves of pain rippling through her stomach were any clue.

  Mrs. O’Neal came rushing in and ran to Emily’s side. One quick glance told her what the problem was and she dashed off again. Iain was staring at the door the woman went through as if she had suddenly had a fit of madness but then Mrs. O’Neal came with a thick robe and a handful of towels. Helping Emily to her feet, Mrs. O’Neal yanked the robe on her, and then dropped the towels on the floor. Emily sighed. It would help with the mess but it certainly was not going to help save her dignity.

  “Come along, dear, we will get you out to your room,” Mrs. O’Neal said after linking her arm through Emily’s. “Iain, put some water on to heat.”

  “What for? I want it born, not cooked. Ow!” he yelped when Mrs. O’Neal slapped him upside the head.

  “For keeping things clean. Now git.”

  “Em?” said Neddy.

  “She is going to have that bairn, lad. I can call ye when she is ready for ye to see it, if ye want.”

  “Yes, please. I will go play with Rory now.” Neddy ran out of the house and Iain went into the kitchen.

  Carrying his cup of tea, the duke followed Iain into the kitchen and sat at the table as Iain heated water. “I do believe Mrs. O’Neal is one of the reasons we cling so hard to our system.”

  Iain laughed and sat at the table opposite the duke. “Quite probably. She was what we needed when we got here about twelve years ago. But she needed us, too, and this place. Took one look at my stockade and decided that was the perfect spot for a new widow and her three bairns. By the time she had been here a year we had built her and the kids that cabin.”

  “Why the stockade?”

  “Safety. I had lost enough people. I wanted walls, rather like a castle has, to hide me and my brothers behind.”

  “And now your wife and child.”

  “Children. Keep Neddy safe, too, Your Grace.”

  “Call me Harold. This is America, after all. You know I want the boy for my heir.”

  “I do but I think that has to be his choice and he is too young to make such a choice now.”

  “Agreed. No harm in me slowly easing him into knowing what the job entails, is there?”

  “Nay. I just dinnae want him, weel, coerced into something he really hasnae got the heart for.”

  “Nor do I. I want the heart for the dukedom as well as the brain and brawn. And the stomach because he will always be the son of the blacksmith’s son to society. He can never take that away, can never do anything to change that in people’s minds. Wrong but that is how it is and he needs to know those things. I am not one who will be popping over on every holiday and birthday.”

  “I ken it. I just need to keep a watch on him.” He leaned forward and met the duke’s eye. “Ye see, Harold, the boy has the heart. He had a demmed big heart and your class, your society is a cruel lot. I dinnae think ye would disagree with that.”

  “Not at all.”

  “And I dinnae want the boy dragged into anything that will kill that sweetness in him.”

  “Agreed. Perhaps when he is older there can be a visit made. You or Emily or both of you can come over with him.”

  Realizing he was curious about how she had lived over there, Iain nodded, then tensed when a cry came from upstairs. “Emily.”

  “Son,” Harold said as Iain lifted the pot of water, “you best get hardened to that sound because there will be a lot of them before that baby comes out. But you will have a fine son.”

  “Daughter. I am having a daughter.”

  “God help the poor child,” murmured the duke.

  He raced off to the kitchen and into the new rooms he and Emily had only to realize Mrs. O’Neal would have taken her into the sickroom. Cursing, he turned and ran back through the kitchen, past the duke, who was climbing the stairs and into the sickroom. The sight of Emily clinging to Mrs. O’Neal hand and panting made him lose some of his terror. She looked ha
le enough to him.

  He set the water down and went to sit on the other side of Emily. She smiled at him but it was a tired expression and he had to wonder if she had the strength to go through with this. She took his hand in hers and held on so tight he hissed, then he changed his mind about her strength.

  It went on for what felt like days to Emily and she hoped the women were right when they said you did not remember anything about the pain and mess afterward. Then the time came to push and she was so afraid she was simply too weary. Suddenly her grandfather was seated at the side of the bed holding her hand.

  “Come on, child, you are a Stanton. It is time for the finale,” he said, and smiled when she giggled, then just gently squeezed her hand and sat there.

  Emily worked hard and began to think her child was as stubborn as its father. Between pushes she was all too aware of the various parts of her that were hurting. She looked up into the steel-gray eyes of her grandfather and grit her teeth. She would not fail the man. A glance at Iain made her determined to get the baby out before her poor husband disgraced himself with a swoon.

  The newest MacEnroy made an entrance after taking far too long as far as Emily was concerned. Mrs. O’Neal let out a load guffaw and held up the baby to reveal a girl. Iain whooped and danced around the room.

  “What are you doing?” asked Emily as soon as she had been cleaned off, and the covers pulled up. Then she held her arms out for her child and nearly wept when she was placed there by a beaming Mrs. O’Neal.

  “I am doing a jig. I have broken the curse.”

  “What curse?”

  “That the MacEnroys, our little twig of the clan, will never see a lass borne to them.”

  “That is one they usually use to curse one against having sons, not daughters.”

  “Some long-winded tale of love lost and an angry suitor, I suspect,” said the duke. “I would like to loudly say nay, but, aye, that was pretty much the way of it.”

  “Well, jig your backside out and tell your brothers. With all the racket you have been making, they could be running up here soon.” She laughed when he grinned at her, kissed her cheek and the baby’s, and actually jigged out the door.