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Jenny shrugged. “Just a wee feeling I have. Ye carried the bairn just like the Mackinnon’s mother carried him. High and forward.”

“Per dio, so I’m to welcome another stubborn male into my life?” Fiona was glad to hear Lady Achnasheen sounding more like herself, although she still leaned heavily on her husband.

“Aye, that goes without saying, my lady. Now, away with ye, Mackinnon, and leave us to get on with things without ye fidgeting around us like a cat on top of a hot stove.”

“She needs me,” he said with the stubbornness his wife had mentioned.

“No, my bonny laddie, she doesnae.”

Lady Achnasheen turned her dark head to stare up into her husband’s face. His features were strained with worry and love. “Jenny’s right, caro. Trust that everything goes as we hope.”

He leaned in and kissed her, clearly not reassured at all. “I hate to think of ye suffering, mo leannan.”

“Per pietà, it can’t be helped, tesoro. Although I wish it were otherwise.” She looked past her husband to see Fiona. Fiona realized that until now Lady Achnasheen had been so focused on what was happening in her body, she hadn’t realized her guest had come upstairs to join her. “Signora, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve assisted at every birth at Bancavan since I arrived there.” She stepped forward. “I’m here to help.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Jenny surveyed her with sharp blue eyes. “I’m no’ sure a fine lady is what we need, lassie.”

Fiona bit back a contemptuous snort. “Believe me, I know what’s required. If you find I’m more trouble than I’m worth, I’ll go away again. But if I were you, I’d welcome an extra pair of experienced hands.”

Jenny still inspected her, as if waiting for her to swoon at the first sight of blood. Fiona raised her chin and returned the old woman’s steady gaze.

“I’d like Mrs. Grant to stay, Jenny,” Lady Achnasheen said. “She sounds like she’s used to bringing bambini into the world.”

“As long as she’s willing to take orders,” Jenny said doubtfully.

“You’re in charge,” Fiona said.

Lady Achnasheen gasped and bent against Fergus’s arm. The faint color that had returned to her face drained away.

“Marina!”

“Mr. Mackinnon, really you should go.” Fiona came around to support her hostess from the other side, rubbing her back in firm circles. “She’s more worried about frightening you than she is about the work she has to do.”

“There’s…” Lady Achnasheen stopped to draw a shuddering breath. “There’s a reason they call it labor, you know.”

The small joke didn’t make her husband smile, although Fiona had noticed that her hosts communicated with a fond teasing that did nothing to hide the love flowing beneath the humor. “I want to stay.”

With a tenderness that made Fiona’s heart clench in envy, Lady Achnasheen touched his stricken face. Nobody had ever loved her like this. She’d borne Christina among people who had no affection for her at all, and her husband had cared only if she delivered a boy. His disappointment at the arrival of a girl had been unconcealed. A disappointment the whole clan had shared.

“Per favore, amore mio, go downstairs. I’ll send for you if I need you.”

His gray eyes troubled, Mr. Mackinnon stared into his wife’s face. Then with a reluctance Fiona could see, he gave a brief nod. “I love you, Marina. I hope ye know how much.”

The tension leached from Lady Achnasheen’s body, and Fiona braced as the weight shifte

d from Mr. Mackinnon onto her. “Sì, lo so. Ti amo anche, caro. Tutto va bene. All will be well.”

Fiona saw that he wanted to argue, to insist on his place at her side. She didn’t mistake that it was an act of enormous devotion when he slid his arm from her waist and stepped back. “God keep ye, mo chridhe.”

“And you, my beloved husband.”

“Do you want to walk?” Fiona set her arms more firmly around Lady Achnasheen. “It might ease the pain.”

“Aye, that’s it, my lady. We willnae see anything to carry on about for another couple of hours yet.” Jenny sent Fiona an approving glance. “Ye have done this before, it seems.”


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical