Finally, the midwife stood and crossed Jillian’s legs, binding them together with a piece of linen. “I think the bleeding has stopped, but ye must lie still.”
“My baby?” Jillian asked.
Bridget brought the bairn over. “A healthy, bonnie lass. Ye did well.”
Jillian lifted a hand to stroke the tiny fingers that flailed. “She is beautiful,” she said, a small smile on her lips, and then she fell into exhausted sleep.
“Ye are going to wear holes in Bridget’s prize carpet,” Jamie said, watching Ian pace in front of the desk in the library, “and right now it would nae be wise risking her wrath.”
Ian stopped and ran a hand though his already tousled hair. “Christ. How can any woman bear so much pain?”
Jamie didn’t ask for clarification since Jillian was the only person on Ian’s mind. With so much blood spattered over the bed, her bedchamber had looked like a battlefield, and the glimpse he’d had of her face was no less haggard than that of any wounded soldier. “The important thing is she lives.”
“No thanks to me.” Ian resumed pacing. “I passed out like some green lad at his first battle. ’Tis nae like I havena seen blood before.”
“Ye expect men to be bloodied when they fight. ’Tis different when it is a woman.”
“’Tis my fault she had to suffer so. I got her with child.”
Jamie raised a brow. “I dinnae think she minded that part.”
Ian paused and almost smiled and then shook his head as he sank into an empty armchair. “I canna get her with child again.”
“Jillian being with child was nae the problem. ’Twas the fall she took and lying in the cold all night. Ye remember the doctor said her insides were damaged, and he didnae ken if the bairn would even survive.”
“She shouldna have been out that night. I told her ne’er to leave without an escort.”
Jamie grinned. “Since when do either of the Barclay women listen to what they are told?”
Ian did manage to smile at that. “Aye, but her spirit is one of the things I love about her.”
“Spirit? More like stubbornness. I swear, Mari is going to make my head go grey before its time.” Although she certainly had not resisted his kissing her. Mayhap they should indulge the practice.
“If anything good came of that night, it was finding out about our uncle’s plan to waylay the countess.” Ian said, breaking into Jamie’s thoughts of where he could waylay Mari for another kiss.
“A plan thwarted, thank God, by the blizzard.”
“Aye, but nae forgotten. Duncan and Broc bear watching.”
“That they do,” Jamie said and remembered Mari had told him Jillian suspected the men had wanted her to follow them. “We must take care.”
“Ye be taking a care now that ye do naw drop the wee one,” Darcy said as she descended the stairs behind Mari. “Be sure ye protect the babe’s head.”
Mari tucked the soft woolen blanket around her precious bundle and smiled at Darcy’s presumptuousness. The maid did not have any more experience handling babies than Mari did, but to appease Darcy for being left out of the birthing room—heaven only knew what kind of a scene that would have been—Bridget had appointed Darcy the baby’s nanny. Darcy had lifted her chin and smiled smugly while Effie scowled. Bridget quickly had reminded Effie her skills were needed in helping Jillian recuperate, causing Effie to lift her own chin and gloat.
But both maids seemed content with their roles, and Mari was beginning to think Bridget was a miracle worker.
They approached the library where Mari could hear Ian talking to Jamie. Before she could knock, Darcy opened the door and stepped inside. “Ye can see yer daughter now,” she announced, sounding for all the world like she was in charge.
Both men fell silent as Mari stepped through the door. Jamie’s golden eyes widened slightly, and Mari supposed she did look a little strange, holding a baby in her arms. Suddenly, she felt shy, remembering the kiss earlier and how she had responded to him. She turned quickly to Ian.
“Do you want to hold your daughter?”
A look of trepidation swept across his face as he stepped closer. “I dinnae want to drop the bairn.”
“She will naw break,” Daisy said authoritatively.
“She is such a wee thing,” Ian replied, tentatively brushing the baby’s hand with his, but not making a move to take the child.
