The Highlander's Bride (32 page)

Unfortunately, it did not look like that was going to happen. Laurel was going to have a baby today and, remembering Aileen, there was no way she was going to be able to keep silent through the pain towards the end. Regardless, Laurel knew Conor would never give her to anyone, let alone the Douglasses. She just wished she could give him some warning so that he could think of another plan.

Her pains were consistent, but still fairly far apart when Hagatha awoke and stretched. “Laurel? Looks like they brought food while we were sleeping. It’s cold, but edible,” she said while sampling a couple of the dishes. “Your Fiona sure knows how to cook.”

Laurel had been awake when the guard had brought in the trays but had feigned sleep. While Aileen had felt compelled to walk between her pains, Laurel felt like just resting, building up strength before the next one came. She watched Hagatha prepare a plate.

“What are you waiting for? Usually you are the first to dig in and the last one to devour the remaining scraps.”

“Not hungry, I guess.” She was trying to delay the inevitable, but it was pointless to do so around the experienced midwife.

“How long now?”

“Just since I awoke earlier.”

“Probably will be a while then.” They looked at each other, knowing Conor’s plan was in jeopardy. By that afternoon or evening, the whole keep would know Laurel was in labor.

“Don’t worry, lass. You will be all right.”

Laurel clutched the midwife’s sleeve. “Make me a promise, Hagatha.”

“Another one? I already fulfilled the first one. I’m here.”

“Please,” she said through gritted teeth as a pain ripped through her stomach to her lower back. It then slowly dissipated.

“Promise me that if it’s between me and the baby, the baby will live.”

Hagatha looked at her friend for a moment before answering. “I won’t make that promise, Laurel.”

Laurel’s eyes pleaded with Hagatha. “You and I both know that this baby is too big. If you have to, cut me open and get him. I will not have us both die like my mother and brother.”

Throughout the morning, Laurel tried again and again to get Hagatha to swear she would put her baby first, but the old woman refused to entertain the idea of losing either the laird’s wife or his bairn. Nothing would sway her.

The first indication that something was going on in the keep was when the noon meal didn’t arrive. Laurel’s pains were coming closer together now, so she wasn’t as aware of time as Hagatha was. To Laurel, it seemed like she had been in labor for days, not hours. The second sign was all the shouting later that afternoon. Even Laurel thought she heard the clashing of swords in the courtyard.

By early evening, Laurel was pacing the room trying to remain calm, but the pain was excruciating and, based on Aileen’s birth, she knew it was only going to become worse. She tried to focus on anything besides how her body was being ripped apart.

Laurel swallowed heavily. “Hagatha. What do you think is going on?”

The sun was setting, and still no food or water had been delivered to the room since that morning. Additionally, no sounds had been heard from the keep for some time. Hagatha had not said anything, but she, too, was concerned about the silence that followed the earlier call to arms. She had been nervous to leave Laurel alone in case she wouldn’t be allowed to return. But, very soon, the keep would realize that Laurel was in labor. So far, Laurel had been able to keep her cries of pain down, but Hagatha knew that they were getting worse and Laurel’s strength was fading. She needed Laurel to save her strength and not waste it unnecessarily on keeping silent.

Hagatha grimaced. “I don’t know. But I’m going to ask the guard for at least more water. I cannot believe Conor would allow them to starve ye like this.”

Laurel lay down and gripped the sheets, struggling through another wave of pain. “You and I both know that he is at war.”

Hagatha shook her head in denial. “I know no such thing.”

“If he were here, we would have food and drink. You cannot deny this.”

Refusing to answer, Hagatha made a decision. “I’m going to get you something to drink. We are almost out of water, and I may not have a chance later.”

Laurel nodded.

Hagatha opened the door and noticed immediately there were no guards at the bottom of the tower. She quickly descended the staircase and scanned the courtyard. There was not a single soul in sight. The silence was terrifying. Where was everyone?

Hagatha went directly to the kitchen. Food had been left semi-prepared and the fire in the hearth had been doused. Now Hagatha was sure that something serious had happened. Events may empty the courtyard, but there was always someone in the kitchens for the hearth was rarely not lit. She grabbed some things to eat, a flagon of water, and returned to Laurel, who was no longer able to hold back her cries of pain.

“Let it out, lass. The guards have been called off.”

“Called off? We are free to leave?” Laurel asked haltingly.

“Aye, but first you need to drink something,” Hagatha replied, placing the food and flagon on the little table.

“Isn’t help on the way?”

“They will be here soon.” Hagatha felt terrible about lying, but she decided that in Laurel’s condition it would be better to not fully disclose what she had—or had not—found.

“Go get them,” Laurel pleaded.

Just as the words escaped, another pain hit, and Laurel screamed.

“I won’t be leavin’ you.”

The next hour passed, and Laurel could no longer hold inside what was happening. With still no help arriving, Hagatha wondered if anyone ever would come.

The midwife was cleaning Laurel up and getting her settled again when the door flew open and Brighid and Aileen flew in.

“My god!” Aileen choked, looking round-eyed at Laurel and then at Hagatha. Laurel was white as a sheet. “How much longer?”

Hagatha gave Aileen a silencing look and said, “As long as it takes.”

Brighid, who was standing behind Aileen, turned and ran down the stairs to get Conor.

Aileen closed the distance between her and the midwife, staring at Laurel who appeared to be sleeping between pains. “Please,” she whispered, “please say she is going to live.”

Hagatha gave her another silencing look with her eyes. “Help me now.”

Aileen went to sit by Laurel and held her hand. Laurel opened her eyes. “Is it over?”

“Aye,” Aileen replied, trying not to cry at seeing her friend in so much pain.

“Conor?” Laurel asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Fine. We are all here to help you. It won’t be much longer now.”

Laurel shook her head. “Something is wrong. I just know it.”

Conor’s composure broke as soon as he found out Laurel had been in labor since early that morning. When he came to the tower to see her, Hagatha and Aileen refused to allow him in. He had to retreat, hearing her cries of torture from the other side of the door.

With his agonized heart in his eyes, Conor said, “Tell her it is over.”

“She knows,” Aileen said, returning to the room with a bucket of fresh water.

Conor watched her vanish into the room. He wondered if he would ever again feel the confidence and assurance he had known before he met Laurel. Laurel would call it arrogance, he chided himself, as he descended the stairs and walked toward the chapel.

MacInnes found Conor the next morning in the chapel. “Please tell me it is over,” Conor begged his godfather.

The older man only shook his head and joined him on the bench. MacInnes had left late the night before to escape the bloodcurdling sounds of his beloved granddaughter. He had not been able to save his precious daughter, and now he feared he was going to lose the last of his family. He felt incredibly weary. He wanted to help Conor, but knew of nothing to alleviate the young man’s pain.

Conor rested his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. “I thought this past week was difficult. I never should have kept her locked up. The stress I caused…”

“No,” came a firm command. “You did what was best. You kept her safe and away from them. You made sure she had Hagatha, and most of all,
she knew the truth
.”

“Nothing I have ever been through could surpass this torture.” For the first time in his life, Conor was frightened. Genuinely, thoroughly, deep-down scared.

His godfather said nothing, as he, too, was afraid.

The previous morning had started out so differently. Conor was on the verge of reclaiming his perfect life.

The day the Douglasses arrived and announced their lie, Laird MacInnes had ridden out with Father Lanaghly to find the priest who had presided over Laurel’s supposed nuptials. Father Lanaghly had often met Father Uron on his travels among the clans during the winter months and knew where the priest usually stayed. They only hoped he was still there.

It had been a long ride, but they had been able to find the priest, who supported Laurel’s story and agreed to accompany them. Since he was the only priest in the vicinity at the time, he could easily refute Keith Douglass’s claim. MacInnes had no problem convincing two impartial lairds to join them on their return journey. When they arrived back at the castle late yesterday morning, Conor had ordered all the Douglasses to be rounded up and brought into the tilting yard. He then freed his brothers to testify on Laurel’s behavior and physical condition on the night they had saved her.

The whole keep stopped work to witness the event. The anger and resentment about tolerating the Douglasses’ presence was well known. The Douglasses had attacked Lady Laurel’s honor. Everyone wanted them dead. But Conor wanted one more thing before he took their lives; he wanted Laurel to be vindicated.

The tilting yard was surrounded with McTiernays and MacInneses. Soldiers stood by farmers standing by servants who had locked arms with clanswomen. All had come to witness.

For the first time, the story of how Laurel came to join Conor and his men was told. Hamish told of her courage. Seamus told of her skills. Each brother recounted her physical state and her regal bearing during their journey home. Glynis told of her generosity. Aileen spoke of her healing skills. Finally, Father Uron was brought forward and he denounced Keith Douglass’s claim.

When Douglass and his son tried to argue with the priest, the two lairds who had accompanied MacInnes cut their words short. Throughout it all, Conor stood stone-faced, seemingly emotionless, and terrifyingly silent. Watching the pathetic, evil, twisted men who had dared to hurt Laurel made his blood boil.

Slowly Conor turned to the two impartial lairds. “You will inform Robert?”

“Aye,” they replied. Both knew what was about to happen, and both supported the decision. Robert the Bruce would as well, once he learned the truth.

Conor eyed the men he was about to slay. “One of my men for each of yours.”

Douglass could not hide his surprise. He had assumed it would just be a slaughter. “And if we win?”

“You leave.”

Douglass took several deep breaths. He had heard that McTiernay was a talented, strategic leader of men. But how clever was he one-on-one? Did he teach underhanded tricks to his men? Before he got an answer, MacInnes walked forward.

“Half are mine,” he said resolutely. Conor nodded in agreement.

“Pick your men.” Conor looked at Finn and nodded. Instantly, six McTiernay men, including Finn, came forward, swords drawn. Seconds later they were joined by MacInnes and six of his men.

The battle was quick. Douglass had made the mistake of underestimating the loyalty and love Conor’s men had for Laurel and should have found a way to retreat. That mistake in judgment ended that line of Douglasses without a single injury to either a McTiernay or a MacInnes.

By the time the battle was over and the bodies had been removed off of McTiernay land, Laurel had been in labor for almost twelve hours. Conor had gone to the river to bathe before greeting his wife, but when he arrived, it was too late. She was too far into labor for visitors, including him.

At first, he was the typical panicky, soon-to-be father. But, as the cries of pain lasted throughout the night and into the morning, the fear that he and Laurel had tried to ignore surfaced with an almighty vengeance.

“You did it, Laurel! You really did it!” beamed Aileen as she helped her friend don a clean shift. The babies had taken their sweet time in arriving, but arrive they had. One boy and one girl. Laurel had stayed awake long enough to kiss and briefly hold each one before succumbing to the blissful state of painless oblivion.

Hagatha finished her midwife duties, all the while smiling and wiping away her tears. She had been afraid for a while. The boy had been born breech, which explained the pain and why the birth had taken so much longer than normal. His sister was much more cooperative and arrived minutes after her brother, head first.

Some time around dawn, something had come over Laurel, and she was suddenly determined to see her child born. When, finally, her son popped out to see the world, Hagatha realized her folly.

The little boy was far too small to account for Laurel’s wide girth. Immediately, Hagatha gave the boy to Aileen and prepared for the second child. Soon the head crested, and Hagatha was holding a little girl.

Laurel had said that multiples had never ran in her family—just large children and with them, the associated risks to the mothers. And so both had assumed the baby was just large. In truth, Laurel’s babies were still large for twins. Most twin bairns barely were bigger than Hagatha’s hands. When Conor’s mother had Craig and Crevan, she had been only slightly more round and both had been incredibly tiny. The McTiernay twins, however, were each practically as large as regular babies.

Brighid ran down with the news as soon as the babies were pronounced pink and healthy. “Laird! Laird! Laird McTiernay! Laird MacInnes!” she called through the halls.

Both men ran out of the chapel afraid to ask. “Laird,” Brighid started again, unable to get the words out she was so happy. Conor’s heart froze in his chest at the sight of the tears running down Brighid’s face.