“There ye are,” Mairi said, and when she looked at Ariella, her expression shifted into something gentler. “Come here.”
Ariella crossed the room at once. “How are ye feeling?”
“Like I fought a war and won,” Mairi replied. “And if anyone asks me to stand up too quickly, I’ll kill them.”
Callum immediately lifted his hands. “Nay one is asking.”
Moira set her tray down. “We brought food. Because men cannot be trusted to feed themselves.”
Callum scoffed. “I’ve been feeding everyone.”
“With what?” Moira challenged. “Ash and pride.”
Ewan darted forward. “Mam. Is the baby awake?”
Mairi’s expression softened. “She is. She’s been awake all morning, complaining like her father.”
Callum laughed. “She’s got yer lungs.”
Mairi leaned toward Ewan. “Come look. But wash yer hands first.”
Ewan froze as if she’d asked him to climb the keep wall. “Wash.”
“Wash,” Mairi repeated.
Ewan sighed dramatically and went to the basin. Isla followed him, eyes darting nervously toward the cradle.
Ariella hovered near Mairi’s chair. “Thank ye for inviting us.”
Mairi waved a hand. “It’s the least we can do. Ye kept me head on straight when the world went white with pain.” She looked at Maxwell then. “And yer laird kept Callum from fainting like a fool.”
Callum muttered, “I did nae faint.”
Maxwell’s voice was dry. “Only because ye feared Moira more than death.”
Moira barked a laugh. “Aye. That’s true.”
Ariella blinked, startled by the humor in Maxwell’s tone. It was subtle, but it was there. A glint of something less guarded.
Mairi patted Ariella’s hand. “Do ye want to hold her?”
Ariella’s breath caught. “May I?”
“Aye,” Mairi said. “If ye wash yer hands first. I am nae raising a sick baby because ye fancy yerself clean.”
Ariella laughed softly and went to the basin. The water was warm. She washed carefully, as if the act itself was a promise.
When she returned, Mairi nodded toward the cradle. “Lift her gently. Support her head.”
Ariella leaned down and slid her hands beneath the tiny bundle.
The baby was impossibly small, lighter than Ariella expected. Warm and soft and fragile. Her little face was pink, eyes squeezed shut, mouth pursed as if displeased by the world.
Ariella’s throat tightened.
“She’s perfect,” Ariella whispered before she could stop herself.
Mairi smiled, tired but proud. “Aye.”
