Maxwell’s chest tightened again, not with fear this time, but with the fierce possessive surge that had struck him when he’d heard the healer’s words.
A bairn.
His.
Hunter’s gaze hardened. “Yer stubbornness is hurting yer wife and child now. And daenae look at me like that. Ye ken it’s true. She fainted at the door, Maxwell. The bairn could have been lost today.”
Maxwell’s throat worked. He forced the words out. “I ken.”
Hunter’s anger faltered briefly at the rawness of Maxwell’s voice.
But he pressed on anyway. “If that bairn does nae survive, it’ll be because she’s been living with fear in her bones. Fear ye put there.”
Maxwell’s jaw clenched.
It should have made him feel undeserving.
It should have made him feel ashamed enough to collapse.
But all he could feel, beneath the guilt, beneath the self-hatred, was that bright, terrifying happiness again.
He turned slowly to face his brother.
“I am glad,” Maxwell said quietly.
Hunter blinked. “What.”
Maxwell’s voice roughened. “I am glad she is with child.”
The confession hung in the air, shocking in its simplicity.
Hunter stared at him as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
Maxwell continued, words spilling now that the truth had been named. “When the healer said it, I… I felt?—”
He exhaled hard, frustrated with himself. “Joy.”
Hunter’s mouth parted.
Maxwell’s gaze dropped for a moment, as if admitting it felt like exposing his throat. “I did nae expect it. I didnae… I daenae even remember why I made those rules in the first place. I thought they would keep me steady. Keep everything… contained.”
Hunter’s expression shifted, anger still present but now threaded with something else.
Understanding.
And relief.
“Christ,” Hunter muttered.
Maxwell’s jaw flexed. “Say it.”
Hunter’s mouth twitched, then he shook his head with a faint, incredulous smile. “Ye are a bloody fool.”
Maxwell’s brows lowered. “Aye.”
Hunter stepped closer, voice quieter now. “Ye’ll make a wonderful faither, if ye stop trying to punish yerself for surviving.”
Maxwell went still.
