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“Aye, the lass has got a hard head,” Angus said. “Just like her mother.”
“Shut up, Angus,” Royal said. He strode over to his grandfather. “Here, make yourself useful. Take her while I fix Ainsley a cup of tea.”
After handing the baby off, he returned to his wife.
“Are you sure she’s all right?” she asked.
“Positive,” he said, gently taking her chin so he could inspect her face. “I’m more worried about you.”
“I must say, it hurt like the devil,” she confessed.
“Did you bite your tongue?”
“I did.”
“I wish I could kiss it and make it better.”
As he’d hoped, that won him a rueful smile. “I’m sure you do, but I think a cup of tea is what I need right now.”
“Or a wee dram?”
“That would probably burn too much. Just tea with lots of milk and sugar, please.”
He steered her to the chaise and fixed her tea while Angus bounced Tira on his lap, trying to distract her. Unfortunately, the bairn was still a bit fussy and was soon gnawing on her fingers. That was a sure sign that her gums were sore.
After he handed her a cup, Ainsley put it down without taking a sip and eyed Tira. “If I didn’t hurt her, why is she still fussing? Do you think we should send for the doctor?”
“It’s the teething, lass,” Angus said. “Don’t fash yourself. No need for a sawbones.”
“I’m not fashing myself, I’m simply—”
She broke off in consternation when the old man dipped a finger in his whisky glass and then flicked off the droplets. When he stuck his finger in Tira’s mouth and started massaging her little gums, Ainsley shot to her feet.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” she all but shrieked.
“Och, don’t blast our ears off, ye daft woman,” Angus said. “I’m massaging her gums, dinna ye ken?”
Ainsley practically levitated off the floor with outrage. “With whisky? You’re giving my daughterwhisky?”
“It was just to clean my finger,” Angus protested. “Not to get her drunk. Besides, she likes the taste.”
That seemed to be the case, as Tira gnawed on her grandfather’s finger with evident relief.
Royal took Ainsley’s hand and tried to tug her back down on the chaise. She resisted.
“A taste of whisky won’t harm her, love,” he said. “I remember my mother doing that with Braden, and I’m sure with the twins, as well.”
“Aye, that she did,” Angus said. “Works like a charm.”
“But . . . but they’re boys,” Ainsley exclaimed, clearly revolted. “Tira is a girl.”
Angus rolled his eyes. “That makes no bloody sense. But it doesna surprise me, coming from ye.”
“I don’t have to make sense to you, you grubby old goat,” Ainsley snapped. “I’m her mother.”
“Aye, and a goat would be a—”
“Angus, enough,” Royal ordered. He stood and took Ainsley’s hand. “Please sit down and try to relax. I promise you Tira is fine.”
