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Kieran nodded. “Aye, sweetheart, he most certainly did. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Jemma swallowed, returning to the scar. “Ye dinna faint when it happened?”

Kieran’s eyes took on a far-away look, remembering a most unpleasant happening. “Only later, after I had lost so much blood. But I was quite lucid on the battlefield, even as Deinwald and William tried to stop the blood loss. But once I went unconscious, I stayed out for several days. They thought I was dead.”

Dead. Like their daughter. Jemma’s amber eyes met his and she touched his face, running her fingers over his smooth lips.

“What if ye had died, Kieran?” she whispered. “What if I lost both you and our babe? How would I live?”

He didn’t want to think about that. His big hands clasped her head, touching her hair for the first time. “What did you do to your hair, sweetheart?”

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed and pained and regretful. “I cut it.”

“I can see that,” he smiled faintly, letting her know that he wasn’t angry with her. “When?”

She shrugged, touching it absently. “During a rage,” she muttered. “I took a dagger to kill myself but I dinna have the nerve. So I chopped off my hair instead. Aloria tried to stop me, but I stabbed her in the arm. When it was all over, we both sat on the floor covered by my hair and wept together.”

Kieran sighed heavily, running his fingers through her hair. “It will grow. Actually, I rather like it. It frames your face nicely.”

She looked ashamed. “I look like a boy.”

He pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. “I can vouch that you are most certainly not a boy.”

She felt him, his warmth and strength, and all of her anger and hatred and agony melted with him. He was returned now, and she would lean on his strength. She no longer had to bear her burden alone.

“I was in labor for nearly two days,” she said, her voice cracking as she relived the agony. “When Sylvie finally pulled the babe free, the cord was wrapped around her neck and she was blue. Sylvie wunna let me see her until I screamed at her.” She felt him kiss the top of her head. “By that time she was clean and she wasna blue anymore. She looked as if she were sleeping, like an angel. The priest christened her Bridget Hage and we buried her the next day.”

She felt something wet on her head and looked up to see his face streaked with tears. Tenderly, she reached up and wiped them away.

“My brave knight,” she cooed softly. “I never thought to see ye cry.”

“I have never had a reason to,” he replied. He pulled her close to him once again, feeling her warmth next to his skin. He didn’t want to talk anymore; he simply wanted to hold her.

“Tell me of Jordan,” she asked after a moment. “Did she have the babe?”

“Aye,” Kieran replied, hoping the news would cheer her up. “Twin boys more than two weeks ago.”

He felt her stiffen in his arms. “Twins?” Before he could stop her, she pulled away roughly and looked at him in disbelief. “Twins? Jordan has two children and I have none?”

This was not the reaction he was prepared for. He could see another storm erupting and pulled her hard to him, pinning her small body against his great one.

“Aye, she has two healthy sons and you must not hate her for her good fortune,” he said into her hair. “It could have easily been the reverse of the situation. Would you want her to hate you for bearing a healthy daughter if her children had died?”

She was still against him but he could feel her rapid breathing. It was a minute before she spoke again. “I dunna hate her, Kieran, but I would be lying if I said that I wasna jealous. I did so want to bear you a son, not a dead daughter.”

“You will bear me a son,” he said firmly, kissing her to emphasize his statement. “And another daughter. In fact, our manse will be near to bursting with all of the children you will bear me.”

“Then ye dunna feel me… worthless?” she asked timidly.

He held her back, glaring at her. “Worthless?” he repeated incredulously. “By damn, woman, you are worth tenfold of any other woman in the country. You are worth more to me than anything else in this life. How can you think such a thing?”

Jemma was subdued, not meeting his eye as her fingers played with the smooth skin of his chest. “Because I feel as if I have failed ye. Jordan bore two healthy sons, but I could only manage a stillborn.”

“Shut up about Jordan,” he said gruffly. “You and her are two different women, not one to be compared to the other. And do not even imagine that you have failed me in any way, Jemma. You have surpassed my wildest dreams.”

She looked up at him then and he was relieved and pleased to see a flicker of familiar flame in the amber eyes. God, she looked so pale and worn from her ordeal as she reached up and ran her fingers over his cropped hair.

“I do love ye, Sassenach,” she whispered. “I dinna mean the things I said to ye.”