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“You know us Scots. Blunt to a fault.”
“Appallingly so.” She tilted her head to study him. “Areyouall right?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You look exhausted. Like you’ve been worrying yourself half to death.”
He rubbed a finger along an old gouge in the bedpost. “Something like that, I suppose.”
“You were thinking about your mamma,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. This must have been difficult for you.”
It had been a difficult night, truth be told, worrying that the same dire fate might befall Ainsley. “I won’t deny to feeling a wee bit of concern, especially when the midwife booted me from the room. I would rather have stayed with you.”
“Count yourself lucky you didn’t. The whole process is gruesome and rather scary.”
“That’s exactly why I wanted to stay with you.”
When she silently held out a hand, Royal came to the bed. As he curled his hand around her dainty fingers, emotion choked up his throat. It was from the old sorrow over the loss of his mother, of course, but even more so from the profound gratitude that Ainsley and the baby were alive and healthy.
“Royal, I can’t thank you enough for being here,” she said in a gruff little voice. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“I was happy to be here, lass. You know I would do anything for you.”
Their gazes locked for a long moment, and something stark and even grief-stricken lurked in the violet depths of her eyes. It made his heart clench, as if something precious was slipping away.
Then Ainsley shook off whatever it was. “I doubt Hector would have been able to pick me up. I still consider it a miracle that even someone as strong as you didn’t drop me.”
“Och, ye’re as light as a feather,” he teased.
“You’re positive you didn’t hurt your leg?”
“I’m positive. Even if I had, it would have been worth it.”
She flashed him another wry smile before withdrawing her hand. “You’re quite insane, sir, but I am most grateful.”
“I’m just glad you and the babe are healthy.” He frowned. “She is healthy, isn’t she?”
“She certainly is. She’s a bit small, but perfectly fit. Dr. MacTavish said he’s rarely seen a baby as alert as she is,” Ainsley said proudly.
Royal bit back a chuckle. He’d seen his share of newborn infants over the years. They always looked rather dazed to him, as if astonished and slightly embarrassed by their helpless state.
“Then she obviously takes after her mother,” he said.
Her gaze dimmed. “I hope so. I’d hate for her to take after her father in any way.”
“She’ll be just like you,” he said firmly.
“Would you like to see her?” she asked.
“As long as you’re sure I won’t wake her.”
“She seems to be a champion sleeper. She’ll be fine if you’re quiet.”
Royal tiptoed over to the cradle. Inside, the wee baby girl was dressed in a white smock and covered with a soft wool blanket. Although small, as Ainsley had said, she was plump and healthy-looking, with pink cheeks and a profusion of dark curls. She was sound asleep, one little hand curled under her chin.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” said her mother.
“She is that.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re not swaddling her?”
