Allie startled in alarm.
“Blast.” Ethan looked back at the house.
“What has—”
“Viola’s time has come. She has been laboring since late last evening.” He scrubbed a tired hand down his face. “I meant tae send word to Muirford House, but Malcolm has been—”
Another wrenching scream sounded. Viola. In agony.
The front door burst open and Malcolm Penn-Leith barreled out, tears wetting his beard.
“I cannae bear it. I am the worst sort of coward,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m never touching her again. I cannae go through the terror of childbirth another time.” He startled, finally noticing Allie. “I beg your pardon, Lady Allegra.”
“None needed, Mr. Penn-Leith.”
“Malcolm,” Ethan touched his brother’s elbow, “ye know this was Viola’s decision as much as your own.”
“But we both experience so much pain and terror, and if I were to lose her . . .” Malcolm choked.
Another cry rang out—slightly different this time. Was it in agony? Joy? Allie couldn’t tell.
A terrible silence followed.
The brothers stared at the house, Ethan placing a comforting hand on Malcolm’s shoulder.
Abruptly, a newborn’s squall sounded, angry and strong.
Malcolm froze, eyes wide and stunned, before rushing back into the house—throwing the front door wide, feet pounding up the stairs.
Allie and Ethan stared at the open door.
They both spoke at the same time.
“I should leave you,” she said.
“Please, come in.” He waved her into the house.
Hesitating, Allie placed a hand on his arm. “You’re exhausted.”
“Aye, I’m fair knackered,” he nodded. “But hopefully all will be well now that the babe is here. Malcolm has been beside himself with worry, as ye saw.” Ethan finally looked at her properly, a faint smile touching his lips. “However, ye be a welcome sight for my poor, weary eyes, lass. Come inside. Let me at least enjoy the pleasure of your company for a few minutes.”
And so, Allie agreed, stepping into the small entrance hall, her gaze drifting up the main staircase.
Feet bustled overhead, the midwife and maids seeing to Viola, surely.
Malcolm’s soft chuckle carried down the stairwell.
Ethan visibly relaxed, a broader smile on his face.
“Laughter must foretell good news,” he said, motioning for her to step into the parlor. “I would offer you some refreshment, but . . .” He trailed off.
“There is no need.” Allie crossed to sit on the sofa. “I won’t intrude for long.”
“Ye can stay all day, as far as I’m concerned.” Ethan sat down beside her, taking her hand in his and stealing a kiss.
The man was shameless.
The letter in her pocket burned through her petticoats. How could she discuss its contents with him exhausted and yawning?
