“The babies aren’t coming,” she said through a gasping moan as the most recent pain eased off. “I’m going to die, and so are they if you don’t cut me open and save them.”
“Dinna speak that way!” He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to look him in the eyes. “Ye will not give up. Do ye hear me, Emily? Never will ye leave me or our babes.”
“They always speak that way right before the wee ones come,” Mairwen whispered from behind him. “Hold her and give her yer strength. She needs ye now more than ever.”
He gathered her up by the shoulders, supporting her with his chest as she sagged back against him. “Our wee ones come within the hour. I shall not think otherwise. Hold fast, love, and stay strong.”
“Another pain is coming,” she said, sounding so weary he wanted to weep. “I am going to push. I don’t know if it’s time or not, but I’m going to push.”
“Do ye not feel the need to push?” Mairwen asked.
“I feel the need to go to the chamberpot and unload a huge shit!” Emily snapped.
“That’s it, child!” Mairwen told her, excitement resounding through her tone. “Push yer bairns out, lass. We’re all ready to meet them.”
Gryffe helped Emily sit higher, straining as she groaned and pushed with every last bit of her energy.
“I see a head full of dark hair,” Mairwen said excitedly. “Keep pushing.”
And then the most magical thing Gryffe had ever seen in his life happened. His child, a tiny babe, slid into Mairwen’s hands, as slippery and wiggling as a wee selkie. Red faced and angry, he squalled as Mairwen patted the soles of his feet to make him cry—for it was a him. Gryffe’s firstborn son. Quinn.
“See him, my love,” he told Emily. “What a fine, braw boy we have. Just look at him. Listen.”
“He’s crying so loudly. And breathing. I hear him breathing between cries. He’s healthy, isn’t he? He’s fine?” Emily sobbed uncontrollably while reaching for the babe. “Give him to me. Let me hold him till his sister comes.”
Gryffe stared down at his angry son, unable to speak as Emily cooed and calmed him, not caring that he had yet to be cleaned of the mess of his travels.
“Sorry, Quinn,” she said as she handed him back to Mairwen. “Sister is coming.”
Gryffe held her upright again and witnessed the second miracle of the day. A wee daughter. Red and angry. Smaller than her brother but a great deal louder. Little Saersy.
Then Tayda stepped forward and started massaging Emily’s stomach, kneading her middle like pummeling bread between her fists.
“What the devil are ye doing?” he asked, ready to shove her away.
“All the afterbirth must come out, my chieftain. ’Twill make her ill, if it doesn’t.” Tayda kept kneading and pushing.
“It’s all right, Gryffe,” Emily told him. “It doesn’t hurt, and she’s right. Everything has to come out, so I don’t get an infection.” She lay cradled in his arms, exhausted but happier than he had seen her in a very long time. “Our babies are healthy,” she whispered. “They’re going to live.”
“As are ye,” he whispered back. “Say it.”
She smiled. “As am I.”
“I love ye, my own.” He kissed her damp forehead, relishing her salty sweetness.
“I love you more.”
Epilogue
Over a year later…
Seven Cairns
Highlands of Scotland
Christmastide (Neutral Reality Portal - Emily and Jessa’s Modern Day)
The meeting hall at the heart of the village, festooned in ivy, red ribbons, and a gorgeous tree with twinkling Christmas lights, rang with laughter and holiday music. All the villagers and Weavers, both light and dark, and Emily’s parents and brothers feasted on every treat imaginable while enjoying the adorable antics of the MacAlester triplets and the MacStrath twins.
