“Yes. Since last night. I’ve felt unsettled.”
“Then ye must have started laboring earlier this morn and didna ken,” Nora surmised. “This one’s determined to be here soon. I think yer bairn is even more eager to meet ye than ye are to meet her.”
Emelie squeezed Dominic’s knee, neither correcting Nora about the baby’s sex. Sweat broke out on Emelie’s brow as contraction after contraction ripped through her until they were one on top of another. She panted, “I need to push.”
“Then listen to yer body, ma lady,” Nora instructed. With four strong pushes and nearly breaking both of Dominic’s hands, a squalling baby boy entered the world. Emelie reached for her son, unsure she had the strength to hold him but needing to nonetheless. Dominic’s powerful arms braced hers, his touch so gentle that it belied the giant’s strength.
“Nic,” Emelie whispered. “Do you know how much your da and I love you?”
“He will, every day for his entire life,” Dominic whispered. “You amaze me, sparrow.”
“I would have given up after the first push if you weren’t holding me,” Emelie confessed as she positioned Nic at her breast.
“Nic?” Laurel asked. The couple had kept their choice to themselves, superstitious that telling too many people would bring Emelie’s already precarious pregnancy more bad luck.
“For Dominic,” Emelie explained.
“Would ye look at that downy white hair,” Nora crooned. “He’s the spitting image of ye, ma lady.” Everyone looked at the nursing babe, and it was true. The head of hair was the same white-blond as Emelie’s, and the babe’s features distinctly favored Emelie.
“Then he’s perfect,” Dominic whispered. Emelie sighed and closed her eyes as Nora and Laurel bustled around the chamber. Dominic gladly held his newborn son while the women helped Emelie bathe and changed the bedding.
“Can ye manage six more sennights, lad?” Nora asked Dominic as she came to stand before him. She grinned at the babe, then Dominic. “There’s nay reason to fear like before. With how easily this birth went, she will be right as rain and likely expecting before we pass another two moons.”
“You have to learn to keep up, little brother,” Brodie said as he entered the chamber with Rick. The little boy bounced and clapped as though he agreed with his father.
“I doubt that will be a problem,” Emelie grinned. “I’m aboot as patient as Laurel was.”
“Aye, well. I can’t complain,” Laurel said as she rubbed the small bump just barely showing beneath her kirtle. With an embrace for Emelie and Dominic, Laurel shooed everyone from the chamber, leaving the new family of three to marvel at one another.
“Wolf, are you happy?” Emelie asked.
“More than I deserve to be,” Dominic responded. “My wife and my son are in my arms. You’re both safe, and we’re living in peace these days. I have more than any mon can ask for. I love you, sparrow.”
“Nearly as much as I love you, wolf,” Emelie countered. She nestled against her husband as their son slept in their arms. They sat in silence as they marveled at the life they were building together as a family. It hadn’t started out as either expected, but it was better than they could have wished.
Epilogue
Emelie gritted her teeth as she lifted her skirts and leaped from one tiny patch of mud to another, avoiding the ankle-deep puddles. She made her way to the lists, scanning the men for the white-blond and chestnut heads of hair she sought. Even more frustrated than she had been moments ago, she whistled the call Dominic had taught her more than two decades ago. It was the one she was to use to identify herself and let Dominic know where she was if they were ever separated while riding or traveling.
Dominic pushed Nic away with his targe, barely keeping his ear attached when Nic swung his sword as Emelie’s whistle caused a distraction. Dominic tilted his head toward Emelie, and father and son jogged over, mud splashing around their ankles.
“Get your brothers, too,” Emelie commanded Nic. “I would blister their ears along with yours.”
“What’s wrong, sparrow?” Dominic asked as he leaned forward to kiss Emelie, but she stepped back.
“Oh, no. You’re in the shite, right next to your brood of sons. Always the bluidy fun parent.”
Emelie and Dominic watched their six sons walk toward them. They could tell the young men were teasing one another until they spotted their mother’s expression. They’d seen it enough times to all go pale and approach with more caution. Emelie knew the boys’ cousins were elbowing one another and watching, but Laurel and Brodie’s five sons would hear from Laurel any moment.
“Dominic, Nic, Fergus, Stephen, Tavish, Cormac, and Charles.” Emelie rattled off her husband’s and sons’ names. They all knew they were about to face their doom, since the only name she shortened was her oldest son’s, and he never went by Dominic. She glared at them and cocked an eyebrow. She watched them shift nervously before she crossed her arms. The men looked at one another. Then she tapped her toes, making a squelching sound in the mud.
“We didna mean to,” Nic spoke up.
“Mama, it was a complete accident, we swear,” Tavish swore. Emelie kept her eyebrow raised, surprised it hadn’t stuck that way after years of motherly expressions. She tilted her head to the side as she looked at her husband.
“Dinna look at me,” Dominic raised his hands in defense.
“I still don’t hear a confession or an apology,” Emelie pointed out. She watched all seven men, all of whom towered over her and weighed at least twice as much as her, squirm. She pursed her lips to keep from laughing.
