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“Is she all right? She was not breathing…”
“That happens sometimes, with foals as well as wee McGregors it would seem. The cure is much the same in either case. I believe our wee lassie has a fine pair of lungs in her and she should do fine from here on. I daresay she would appreciate her first meal.”
Roselyn allowed Blair to assist her in loosening the front of her kirtle and lowering the bodice to reveal one breast. Blair assisted her in guiding her nipple into the tiny mouth, then Roselyn winced as the little one latched on and set up a powerful sucking.
“Oh, that feels like…”
Blair chuckled. “I envy her, but must own that her need is currently greater than mine. And how about you, my Sassenach? How do you feel?”
In truth, Roselyn did not know. How ought she to feel moments after giving birth? She was sore, tired, and completely elated. Most of all, she yearned for her safe, warm bed back at Duncleit.
“I want to go home, my lord.”
“So ye shall, my sweet, so ye shall, as soon as I can procure a bloody cart.”
* * *
“Are ye quite comfortable, my lady?”
Blair tucked yet another plaid around his wife and baby daughter as he arranged them, and Meggie, in the back of the cart which Alastair had obtained from one of the local crofters. He had dispatched the man to find some means of conveyance whilst Roselyn slept off the worst of her recent exertions, but now the thin light of a new dawn began to bathe the inhospitable landscape and he was keen to make for the safety and comfort of his keep.
He had had no option but to allow his tiny daughter to pass her first night out under the stars, but the sooner he got his new family into the warm haven of Duncleit the better he would like it. The danger posed by Ingram might be gone, but wolves still roamed the Highlands and even in the late spring he could never rule out a sudden and unexpected snowfall which might block the tracks and trap them out on the glen. It was not only nature which might threaten them; these lands were wild and there were always lawless brigands more than willing to set upon the unwary or vulnerable.
Blair intended to be neither. Itinerant outlaws posed little threat, he was surrounded by heavily armed troops, but there was no reason to tarry here. Blair itched to be off.
He mounted Bartholomew and brought the patient stallion up alongside the cart. He would ride beside his wife and daughter. Aiden positioned his mount on the other side of the wagon, and Blair gave the signal to move out.
“Please, we really do not require so many blankets. The men must be cold…” Roselyn smiled up at him from her cosy cocoon.
“There is none here would begrudge the lady of Duncleit the use of their plaid, nor our wee Joanie here.” He leaned over to beam at the tiny infant, seemingly none the worse now for her precipitous entry into the world. Little did the child know how much she had scared him in those first moments when she had refused to take her first breath. He adored his wife, and that was fair enough, but in that instant when he had feared for the baby’s life he had known what it was to feel absolute and unconditional love as well as bone-deep desperation. Nothing and no one would be permitted to do the little one harm, and he had no regrets whatsoever at having permanently solved the deadly threat posed by her demented uncle.
He hoped Roselyn would see it the same way—after all, Alan of Ingram had been her brother.
“You are sure about taking the English prisoners with us?” Blair glanced across at Aiden. “I will not tolerate any further threat to my family or clan.”
“They are ready to swear allegiance to Clan McGregor, Laird, an’ I shall have need of strong men at Mortain. They had little enough desire tae serve Ingram in any case. I doubt we shall see any bother from them.”
“We had better not.” Blair remained cautious but would allow his captain-at-arms the benefit of the doubt. He turned to Roselyn who cradled their baby in her arms.
“Thank you for agreeing to name her for my sister.”
Roselyn bent over the child to nuzzle the soft cap of downy hair. “It is a fine name, and Lady Joan was a wonderful woman. Tell me, does our daughter favour your family?”
Blair took a moment to consider. “Wee Joan has my dark hair, but I believe she has your beautiful lavender-coloured eyes.”
“I mean… can she see? Please, is it possible to tell so soon?”
Blair leaned in to caress his wife’s shoulder. “My love, we spoke of this. You lost your sight by accident, there is no reason to suppose the infirmity would be passed on to your children. But if it helps to ease your mind, be assured that whist she might be a tad unfocused, our baby sees well enough for a mite of less than a day old.”
“You are sure?”
“Aye, I swear it. She is looking at me now.” That may have been stretching the truth a tad for in fairness he could not swear that the child actually saw him, though he had taken the precaution of checking her most carefully whilst Roselyn still slept and knew that the baby was sensitive to light and would blink at a sudden movement close by. Those were good enough signs in Blair’s opinion and he was happy to set his wife’s fears to rest.
Silence followed for the next hour or so as the procession made their way cautiously back across the glen in the direction of Duncleit. They would skirt the hills this time, the route longer but safer for the cart and more comfortable for its occupants. Blair knew he needed to raise the issue which hung between them. He swallowed hard, but the matter could not be put off.
“Do you understand why I had to do as I did?”
She made no pretence at not taking his meaning. “You killed my brother. Yes, my lord, I understand perfectly.”
