James Robert Bruce was born on a rainy July morning. He was a large infant who entered the world red-faced, howling loudly, and with his small clenched fists waving. Elsbeth cleaned him with warm olive oil, commenting as she did so on the particularly fine attributes he possessed. Then, swaddling the baby tightly, she laid him in his cradle so they might attend to his mother. Conal Bruce stood over the cradle admiring his firstborn son, who looked back up at his father with deep blue eyes.
Adair was both exhausted and elated. She had insisted upon seeing her son immediately upon his birth, and kissed his wet dark head joyfully. This was so different from when their wee Jane had been born. This child was strong. He would live. After passing the afterbirth she allowed Elsbeth and Flora to bathe and refresh her.
Then she lay back in a freshly made bed that Grizel had prepared for her.
“Give me the bairn,” she said, and when Conal had lifted their son from the cradle and put him into his mother’s arms, Adair put the boy to her breast. Immediately the little mouth opened and then clamped down firmly upon her nipple. He sucked noisily, and his mother smiled, well pleased. “I told you I would giveyou a son,” she said to Conal Bruce. “When he has satisfied himself you will take him into the hall to show Murdoc, Duncan, and your clansmen.” Adair was extremely pleased.
“He’s a braw laddie,” the laird remarked, grinning.
“You’ve done well, lass.”
Adair laughed. “I have indeed,” she agreed.
“You need your rest,” Elsbeth scolded her gently.
“Let the bairn take his nourishment, Nursie,” Adair said, and Elsbeth smiled at her mistress’s use of her old designation.
“You’ll need a nurse for the bairn,” she said.
“Let Flora help me,” Adair replied.
“Leaving Grizel and me with all the heavy work,”
Elsbeth grumbled. “I should bring another woman in from the village.”
“Nay,” Adair said. She turned to her husband. “If you are truly pleased with this son I have given you then you will give me something in return.”
“What do you want?” he asked her, surprised by the request. He had not thought Adair an acquisitive woman.
“I want you to go to Willie Douglas and get Elsbeth’s sister, Margery, for us. Her term of servitude is long finished, but if she is not dead she has remained with him, for she has nowhere else to go. Before I bring another woman from the village I would like to see if you can fetch Margery. She is not a woman the men would seek to futter.”
“I’ll go tomorrow,” the laird said, and Elsbeth burst into tears.
“Thank you,” Adair said. “Cease your howling, Nursie; you will frighten my bairn,” she told the older woman. She detached her infant son from her breast and handed him up to his father. “Take James Robert to the hall and present him to his uncles and his clansmen,” she said. “I must sleep.”
“Bless you, my chick.” Elsbeth sniffled as she exited the bedchamber.
Adair lay quietly after they had all left her. She was still a little bit too excited to sleep. She had done her duty to Cleit. Conal had an heir. Now she would recover her strength and do what needed to be done by Stanton.
She had learned that Ramsey of Balmain had settled himself into Stanton village, and all summer long he had raided across the border from his sanctuary. Every time she thought about it Adair was filled with cold anger.
She would bide her time for a little while longer, but then she was going back to Stanton. And when she left it would all be gone forever. No one would ever again besmirch the Radcliffe name or Stanton, because neither would exist any longer.
In the hall below she heard a shout go up, and knew that the Bruce clansmen were giving their approval of the newest member of the family. The infant would be passed about to be admired, and then she knew that either Elsbeth or Flora would bring the child back upstairs, settle him in his cradle, and then sit by it while she slept. Adair’s eyes grew heavy as she slipped into sleep.
She did not awaken when her husband slipped into their bed later that evening.
In the night Flora brought the baby to his mother so that he might nurse. Awakened, the laird lay on his side watching as his son vigorously suckled upon his mother’s breasts. It was, he thought, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He slept again, awakening just before the dawn. Rising from their bed, he quickly dressed and left the bedchamber. Shortly afterward he rode out from the keep with his older brother. To his surprise he found Willie Douglas in his own house. He wasted no time in coming to the point of his visit.
“Is Margery still with you?” he asked.
“Aye,” Willie Douglas replied. “I kept the old bitch on even after my wife died.”
“I’d like to speak with her,” the laird said.
“Why?” Willie Douglas demanded to know.
“Her term of servitude with you is past,” the laird said. “Her sister wants them to spend their final days together. Elsbeth has become an important member of my household. I am happy to comply.”
