Her assistant mopped up the area, and Erin placed her hands on True, pouring all the painkilling vibes she could muster into her friend. “How’s she doing, Malcolm?”
“She swooned with the first touch of the blade, as I kent she would.” He grunted. “She’s breathing. Her sleeping draught is strong. ’Tis best she remain . . . unaware.”
Relief nearly felled her. Lydia moved away, and Erin went in for the next incision. Immediately a head crowned through the surgical opening. She guided the infant out into the world and cleared his mouth and nose, and he began to cry. Lydia took the squalling newborn and laid him across True’s chest. Baby boy number two appeared just as quickly, and the process was repeated. Both of the boys were in great shape considering the circumstances, and soon their skin turned rosy.
“Thank God,” Malcolm cried. “They’re both hale, and my wife . . .” He stifled a sob. “She lives, and I have you to thank, lass.”
“I still have a lot to do,” she said. Her patient wasn’t out of the woods yet. Infection was Erin’s biggest worry. The actual surgery had been fairly simple, but opening her up was only part of the risk. “You two are going to have to cut the umbilical cords and clean them up. I need to close her incisions and wash her before I put some of her salve on the wound.”
“I’ll take care of my grandsons,” Lydia said. “You keep holding your wife, lad, lest she awake and thrash about.”
While Erin’s focus went back to True, Lydia worked quickly and soundlessly, cutting the cords and tying them off, bathing one boy and then the next. She swaddled them and tucked the two next to their mother.
“Put those babies to her breasts. Nursing will help True.” Erin never took her eyes from her work. She delivered the placentas, making sure both were intact, and began suturing the edges of True’s womb back together. Next came the layer of muscle, and finally she closed the wound across her lower abdomen and washed her patient with the cloth, soap and ewer of fresh water Lydia had brought over to her.
A little dazed, sweating and fatigued, Erin leaned back. “She didn’t bleed much, which means I did it right. Thank God for that.” On shaky legs, she headed for the pail of water and washed her arms and hands again. “Everything went better than I thought it would.” Drying herself with another square of linen, she returned to her patient’s side and checked her pulse. “Heartbeat’s strong. Respiration is good.”
Malcolm’s shoulders shook, and he struggled to hold it in, but sobs erupted from him, and his profound relief filled the room like a living thing. He held one of his sons tenderly to his wife’s breast, and the little bugger sucked greedily. Lydia held the other. Like his brother, he too had latched on with gusto.
“As long as we can keep her wounds clean and free of infection, she should be fine.” She took True’s jar of salve from the upended trunk and sniffed it. Honey? Applying a liberal amount to the freshly stitched incision, she continued to babble. “No more babies for at least two years though, you hear me?” All the control she’d exerted over herself during the surgery leached out of her, and she careened toward the edge of hysteria.
A strangled laugh erupted from Malcolm. “I hear you, lass. You have my word. No bairns for the next two years—mayhap five.”
“Normally we use thread that dissolves over time when we close internal incisions, and we staple the skin together,” she muttered. Her head throbbed, and her mouth was plaster-dust dry. Everything was catching up to her, the stress, the fear, the crushing weight of accountability on top of the regret she suffered over the loss of Alma’s baby. “That embroidery thread is in her for good. I sure hope she likes the color.”
She couldn’t stop herself, as if talking would somehow keep her grounded. It didn’t. “Well, we should clean up here and . . . and get something to eat. I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry, Lydia? I haven’t had a thing since this morning’s oatmeal, and it’s got to be around five now.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Man, I’d love a Diet Coke with lots of ice and a large combo pizza with thin crust. I really do miss pizza.” Was she hyperventilating? “I miss coffee, chocolate, ice cream and . . . and . . .”
“Bacon cheeseburgers and extra-crispy fries,” True murmured.
Erin gasped. “Is she awake? Oh God. Tell me she’s not awake. I don’t have any morphine, oxycodone or . . . or . . . even extra-strength Tylenol to give her.”
“Humph.” Malcolm brushed his wife’s forehead with his knuckles. “Nay, she’s no’ awake. She does that sometimes. True has a way of taking herself far from us, yet she remains aware of what is being said and oft responds.” He shrugged a big shoulder. “She sleeps still.”
“Oh. Good.” Erin frowned, leaned over and placed her hands on her knees, trying to suck more air into her depleted lungs. “That worries me a little, you know? The thread being in there forever, I mean. But I think our bodies are pretty miraculous, and new tissue will just . . . just . . . grow around it.” She glanced at Lydia. “Don’t you think?”
“Mayhap it will.” Lydia shot her a concerned look, her hands full of drowsy, burping baby. “Sit down before you fall down, lass. You’ve gone as pale as the linens on yon bed.”
“God, what did I just do?” she mumbled and made the mistake of straightening. “I . . . I don’t have any business doing any kind of surgery on anyone.” Her limbs went wobbly. The room spun, and spots danced before her eyes again. She sucked in a gulp of air. “What the hell was I thinking? A C-section by candlelight in the fifteenth century! That’s . . . that’s insane.”
“Mother . . .”
“Aye. Go, lad. I’ll stay and look after things here.”
Malcolm and Lydia’s voices sounded as if they came through a storm drain from a great distance away. Erin lifted her hands and stared at them, vaguely aware that Malcolm had left the room. Where is he off to in such a big hurry?
“Jeez. Look at the way my hands are shaking. Maybe I should sit down.” She crumpled to the floor in a sloppy heap, and then everything went black.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Robley sat across from his uncle as they went through the ledgers and planned for the hard winter months ahead. Erin was never far from his thoughts, and once they finished tallying the bushels of wheat, oats, barley and rye, he broached the subject most pressing to his heart. “Uncle William, Erin and I would like to handfast before the clan ere long.” Before his thirty days were spent, to be more specific. “What say you to that?”
“Hmm.” His uncle leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “She’s a fine lass, Rob, and a welcome addition to our family. I’ve no objections, but do you rush into this because of what may befall you? Or are you rushing because of the way the gossips are perpetuating the rumor that she’s bad luck to the breeding women of our clan? Mayhap ’twould be best to resolve both matters first, aye? Post the banns, and we’ll have the wedding come spring.”
“Nay. If I die, I want Erin’s status assured within our clan.” He stared blankly at the figures in the ledger. “We’ve already pledged our troth to one another . . . and she may already carry my bairn.”
“Och. I see.” His uncle’s brow rose, and he sat forward. “If that be the case, we’ll see it done within the se’nnight. We’ve a feast to plan in honor of the birth of my grandsons. We’ll have the handfasting then, since the clan will already be gathered.”
“Good.”
The door to his uncle’s solar burst open, and Malcolm strode through. “You’re needed, Rob.” His glance went between Rob and the earl. “We’ve two fine, strong lads, but the birthing was difficult.” Malcolm’s eyes were bloodshot and his features tight. “Erin . . . She saved True’s life and the lives of our sons. She had to open my wife’s belly with a dagger to take the bairns from True’s womb. My wife and sons live only because you brought Erin to us, Rob.” He fixed his stare on Robley. “You ken what that means?”
“It mea
ns I was right all along.” Rob rose from his place. “She was meant to be here.” He resisted turning his mind to the implications, yet they pressed in upon him nonetheless. Erin’s role in Giselle’s scheme had been fulfilled. Now what? Cold premonition snaked its way down his spine. With Erin’s purpose fulfilled, Giselle had no reason to intervene on his behalf. “I’m needed, you say?”
“Aye. The day has been long, and it’s taken a toll on your lass. She’s in need of your strength and comfort right now.”
“Where is she?”
“In my chamber.”
“I’ll announce the births and that we have Erin to thank for the fact that Robert, True and your bairns live. Mayhap ’twill put to rest the rumors she’s somehow responsible for Roderick and Alma’s sorrow.” William pushed back his chair. “You two see to your women, and to your mother, if you please, Malcolm. What with Robert’s ailment, and True’s difficulties, she must be beside herself. She’s insisted upon being in the thick of it for two evenings past with little sleep, and I canna go to her just yet.”
“I will, Father.” Malcolm reached for the door. “Our wee midwife looked to be on the verge of collapse as I left. Mother is more than likely looking after her as well by now. I’ll see that she goes to her rest.”
Rob followed his cousin out of the solar. “Sky will want to see her new brothers, aye? Have you sent word to her nursemaid?”
“I dinna want my daughter to see True just yet, no’ until she wakes. No sense in frightening my lass. Hunter has already been to our chamber, and his fear upon seeing True so pale and still gave me cause enough to wait.”
They’d reached the chamber, and Malcolm knocked, waiting for permission before entering. Rob followed close upon his heels, his heart wrenching at the sight of Erin stretched out on the rug with Lydia pressing a cloth to her forehead.
“I fainted, but I’m fine now. I did a cesarean.” Erin’s eyes rose to his. “I guess it freaked me out a little,” she muttered.
“You were very braw to do what you did,” Lydia said, smiling. “We are all grateful to you for the lives you saved this day.” Lydia glanced at him. “Best help her to her chamber.”
“And you must go to yours, Mother.” Malcolm held his hand out to help her stand. “Father’s orders. Food will be sent to you there. Eat and rest.”
“I will.” She took his proffered help. “Once I’ve checked in on Rosemary and Robert.”
“Oh.” Erin pushed herself up to sitting. “I should check in on him too, and True should have liquids as soon as possible. Broth and something light to eat. She’s nursing and needs the fluids. When she wakes, we need to get her up on her feet for a little while, and—”
“Enough, mo céile.” Rob helped her to her feet and scooped her up in his arms. “You’ve done enough for one day. Off to a meal and bed with you.”
“She’s your wife now?” Malcolm frowned. “What did we miss, Rob?”
“She is.” Rob jutted out his chin. “We’ve made our vows to each other, and we’ll hand-fast during the feast to celebrate the birth of your heirs.” He carried her to the door. “I’ve already discussed this with the earl.” He turned back. “We’ll be needing a larger chamber, Aunt.”
“Humph.” Malcolm scowled.
“I’ll send a chambermaid to make ready the east turret chamber on the morrow,” Lydia said, patting him on the shoulder. “Until the handfasting, ’twould be best if she kept to her chamber and you to yours.” Her face lit up. “These are glad tidings indeed, Rob. Welcome to the family, Erin.”
“Thank you.” Erin smiled back. She yawned and wrapped her arms around his neck, settling her head on his shoulder.
A rush of love and warmth filled him to bursting. “I’ll no’ leave her alone. Best get our chamber ready yet this eve.” He sent Malcolm a look he hoped his cousin and best friend would understand. But a handful of days remained to them before the faerie’s return. He had no intention of wasting a single second. “We’ll go to her chamber for now and await word that it’s ready.”
“Mother, they—”
“Och, aye.” Lydia’s eyes filled with consternation. “I had forgotten the . . . circumstances.”
“So be it.” Malcolm nodded. “I’ll see that it’s done with all haste.”
“Erin already feels like part of the family, and the rest simply fled my mind.” Lydia sighed. “I am tired and hungry.” She headed for the door. “We’ll talk more on the morrow. Dinna fash about Robert, Erin. He’s in good hands.”
“Thank you for your help, Lydia. You were the best assisting nurse ever.” Erin turned her gaze to him. “I can walk.”
“And I can carry.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “My will in this matter is greater than yours, for I take great pleasure in the feel of you in my arms.”
Malcolm grunted behind them. “’Tis a good thing you’ll be handfasted ere long.”
He shot his cousin a grin. “Congratulations on the birth of your lads. I look forward to hearing what you and True name them.” He hoisted Erin higher in his arms and strode with her toward the door. “See you in the lists on the morrow?”
“Of course.” Malcolm cleared his throat. “I wish you both much happiness, and if there’s aught I can do—”
“My thanks.” Rob didn’t want to hear the rest. He didn’t want the reminder of his troubles while he held his future securely in his arms.
Erin snuggled closer. “Giselle owes us a favor now.”
“How do you reckon thus?” His brow furrowed.
“I saved three lives today. True said she’s sure that’s why I ended up here in your time. Giselle wanted me to help her with the birth of her twins. Plus, I have fae blood, and I’m gifted. I figure since I was ripped from my life to perform this feat for Giselle, she has to be grateful. She obviously has some attachment to True and her family. Maybe I’ve become part of that group by virtue of my faerie ancestry.”
’Twould be nice, but he didn’t see it that way. More than likely he and Erin were but chess pieces to be sacrificed on the board of Giselle’s grand game. “Humph.”
“Sir Grunts-a-Lot.” Erin nuzzled his neck. “Thank you for carrying me to my little room.”
“Our wee chamber, but no’ for much longer.” He set her down before the open door, just as Tieren came out.
“I’ve brought supper for the both of ye. My lord, my lady, good eve to you both.” The lad bobbed his head and took off down the corridor toward the back stairs, not even waiting for their thanks.
“Let us eat, and then you’ll rest. Once our chamber is ready, I’ll move you there as you sleep.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m famished.” She crossed the chamber to the tray that had been set upon the trunk. “We have cold pork, cheese, dark bread and butter.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “And another one of those wonderful berry tarts.” She broke a piece off and popped it into her mouth. “I had no idea you all ate so well in this century. Yum.”
Robley saw to it that his wife ate her fill and took enough tea to satisfy her thirst before he tucked her into bed. Within seconds her breathing took on the deep, rhythmic cadence of well-deserved slumber. He sat in the single chair by the hearth, propped his feet up on the stones and rested his chin upon his fist. Turning over in his mind what Erin had said earlier, he considered the possibilities. Would Giselle be grateful? Would it be enough to secure her favor and mayhap her help with the faerie who meant to kill him if he didn’t return the pensieve? With all his heart he prayed Erin was right. Indeed, he’d cling to the notion, for he had no alternative.
Robley surveyed the great hall. Five days had passed since Malcolm’s heirs had been born, and their clan had gathered this eve to celebrate the births of Bizhiw and Migizi—Lynx, the eldest, and Eagle, the younger of the two—as True called them. Of course they had Scottish names as befitted their rank, but to
the clan and family, their sobriquets had taken well enough. His clan had also gathered for his handfasting, including his father, who had walked down to the great hall with the aid of a walking stick and his wife’s support at his side. He glanced at his parents, who smiled back at him with bright eyes. True had also come for the feast, already looking much stronger and well on the way toward healing.
Excitement and anticipation chased through him in equal measure, weakening his knees. “I can scarce believe it. This is my wedding day,” Rob said, grinning at his cousin, who stood beside him.
“Aye.” Malcolm clasped Rob’s shoulder. “And here comes your lovely bride.”
Robley’s gaze shot to the stairs, and he promptly lost his breath. Erin wore a lovely green velvet gown. A wreath of dried flowers adorned her hair, which fell loose around her shoulders in a golden veil. Mine. His heart leaped inside his chest, and he couldn’t take his eyes from her. Everything and everyone else faded, disappeared from his awareness until only he and she existed. He memorized everything about her, from how the gown caressed her figure, to the brightness of her emerald-green eyes.
His uncle William led her to his side. “With your right hand, clasp your man’s right wrist, lass.”
Erin’s face shone with love and joy. She clasped his wrist, and he held hers. His uncle bound them together with a strip of MacKintosh plaid, stepping back once the task had been completed. The earl turned to their assembled clan. “Before God and your clan, what say you, Robley, son of Robert of clan MacKintosh?”
Robley lost himself in his love’s beauty. His heart full to overflowing, he said his vows, his voice sure and loud enough for all to hear.
“I, Robley Alexander, son of Robert Douglas of clan MacKintosh, and fourth in line as earl of Fife, pledge my troth to thee, Erin Margaret of clan Durie. With my hands, I shall provide for thee. With my body, I pledge to protect thee. With my heart, I shall cherish thee, and only thee, all the days of my life. As God is my witness and before my clan, from this day forward, we are husband and wife.”
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