Page 81 of Hold Fast

Word had spread about the kitchen puppies, and Fenella shooed everyone away with her spoon, saying that there would be no visitors or gawkers until Una said they were allowed. Una was grateful to have such a fierce ally in Fenella. The only other two people she allowed into the kitchens besides the kitchen maids were Fiona and Ewan, who came by just after supper had been served in the hall.

“When did you last eat, Una?” Ewan asked, looming over the pen.

“Midday,” she answered distractedly, working with Rabbie to rearrange the puppies to give Greer more room.

“Come, lass,” Fenella commanded, setting two plates on the work table. “Eat.”

Greer’s contractions had eased, and while she couldn’t be completely certain, Una thought she might be done. It was as good a time as any to take a break and Rabbie seemed more than happy to climb into the box while Una ate. She was filthy, covered in blood and birthing fluid and the Lord only knew what else. She went to a basin to wash her hands well before returning to the table.

“How many?” Ewan said around a mouthful of bread.

“Eight.”

Ewan nodded. “And they are all well?”

“Aye,” Una replied. “All fat and lively, knocking and pushing to get to their mother.”

They ate in silence for a moment. Ewan looked troubled.

“Are you well, Ewan?”

“Aye. Do you think… och, never mind.”

“Out with it, Ewan.”

“Do you think that Mathan could see her? He’s been a mess all day. If he hasnae been tripping me from following so close, he’s been sitting at the keep’s door howling. I feel bad for the poor bastard. He hasnae seen Greer all day, and I am certain he believes aught is amiss.”

Ewan hadn’t looked at her when he’d asked, staring down at his plate instead, but Una’s heart went out to him. Mathan was such a good dog and very attached to Greer. Of course he’d been concerned. No doubt he could smell the birthing. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Whelping puppies was not nearly the danger that birthing a human baby was, but Ewan likely couldn’t help to connect the two in his brain.

Perhaps Mathanwasanxious, but Ewan was a nervous wreck.

Una reached out and grabbed for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Go and fetch him,” she said.

“Aye?” Ewan asked, looking up and meeting her gaze.

“Aye. Let him see with his own eyes that all is well.”

CHAPTER33

It took Ewan no time at all to find Mathan. His trusty companion was at the bottom of the steps that led into the keep, howling mournfully.

“Do you want to see your lady, Mathan?” Ewan asked, crouching down to look in the dog’s eyes as he scratched behind his ears. “And your pups as well?”

Mathan barked loudly once.

“Alright, laddie,” Ewan said with a laugh, standing. “Let us go.”

Mathan stuck to his heels as they climbed the stairs into the keep, crossed the Great Hall, and descended into the kitchens. As he walked, he thought about his younger brother. It was strange seeing Rabbie there, in a whelping pen, cradling a squirming pup in his overlarge hands.

Rabbie had always been quiet, but his stammer hadn’t developed until their mother had died. And now, outside of his family and a few select others, Rabbie didn’t speak to anyone. Many in the clan believed that he couldn’t.

Being a laird’s son was an interesting business. The heir was raised to lead. The second son might join the church, if he felt so inclined, or marry into a neighboring clan to solidify alliances. Ewan had always been the heir. Kenneth loved to joke he was the spare. And then there was Angus, third in line. All three of them had followed after their father like, well, puppies. Learning how to wield a sword, how to fight, how to lead, each with their own strengths.

But Rabbie had always been different. He’d worshipped their late father, but he hadn’t been a part of the business of learning to lead. Instead, Rabbie had always preferred the company of animals. And here he had been, sitting on the kitchen floor with a healer, a dog, and a litter of puppies.

Ewan had felt a burning in the corners of his eyes, wishing that his mother could see it. When the older boys would tease Rabbie for always having a kitten in his pocket or not wanting to wrestle, his mother had always defended him. She’d always shown a keen interest in that kitten or listened to him talk about the twin lambs he’d helped feed or the foal that had been born.

When she’d died, Rabbie had scarcely left the stables unless forced, except for meals and any mandatory assembly the laird had commanded.