It was not the place for him. It wouldn’t be friendly to him and she was afraid he’d be no more friendly toward it in return. She had to express her doubt, but his stern expression only became more implacable.
“Ye’re my life, lass.Tá tú mianach.”
“Yes, always yours,” she swore.
He leaned forward to brush his lips over hers. The light kiss stole her breath and attacked her senses as always. Helpless, she succumbed to the passion and parted her lips beneath his with a sigh. His breath hitched and he slipped a hand behind her neck to draw her closer. Scarlett’s heart raced, her blood turning from icy to scorching in seconds.
With a groan, Laird pulled away. “How do ye do it to me,mo chroí? Even in circumstances like these, I’d like for nothing more than to tumble ye thoroughly.”
His brogue filled with raw yearning never failed to send a quiver of longing through her. She laughed softly. “How do you think I feel? I long for the same and I’m in labor.”
Laird chuckled but his humor fell away into a rueful smile. She tilted her head to fully capture the tender brushing of his thumb along her cheek.
“Och, my bonny lass, I couldnae bear to hae ye leave me wi’ only the promises of a blethering auld nut-hook to reassure me. Whatever awaits me there, I will face it wi’ the same courage ye did when ye came here.”
“So, not very well then?” she quipped, but the uncertainty and tension that had held her captive since Donell put his stamp of approval on their trip through time ebbed. There was comfort in knowing she wouldn’t have to suffer the uncertain days ahead alone. “I’m sure you’ll face the challenges of my time with the same aplomb you meet all others with.”
A mild contraction stole her breath and Scarlett covered the spot with an open palm. “I guess we’d better get on with it, then.”
Laird nodded grimly and lifted Hermione into his arms. Her head lolled sleepily against his shoulder, but she didn’t wake. “Should I hae a bag packed for her?”
“You plan to take Hermione as well?”
“I said we all go,” he restated firmly. “Our fate, whatever it may be, lies together.”
Scarlett swallowed hard but nodded.
“Shall I add some toys and such to her bag to occupy her?” he asked as Scarlett’s maid finally arrived.
“Don’t bother,” she told him. “I’m pretty sure we’ll have no trouble finding things to distract her.”
* * *
Scarlett slipped on some clean petticoats then they made their way back to the common room. Voices raised in debate amplified in volume with each step.
“Well, if you ‘cannae move us aboot’, where is the nearest hospital to here once we get there?” Emmy mimicked Donell’s accent. Her fisted hands and taut body screamed of combativeness, though Donell had taken up a spot near the fireplace while Emmy paced the room. Likely to keep out of her reach, if he were smart.
“Edinburgh,” Scarlett answered as Laird helped her down the stairs with one hand, carrying their daughter in the other. A maid followed behind with a small bag.
“You should be in bed,” Emmy said.
“Or we should get going,” she volleyed back. “We still need to get to the hospital before this baby comes and that’s going to take a while. And the closest major one guaranteed to have the facilities we’ll need is the Royal Edinburgh.”
Laird frowned down at her. “The journey to Edinburgh will take days.”
Amusement erupted in Scarlett and she patted Laird’s cheek. “Have I told you lately how adorable you are?”
“Why are ye smiling like that?”
“You’re going to hate this, ye know?”
“But I love ye and I’ll no’ leave ye to the wolves wi’oot protection.”
He’d heard enough stories of the particular wolves that once stalked Scarlett to have his protective nature on alert. Again, love washed over her, along with the urge to trot her entire family back up the stairs and shield them all in turn from what awaited them.
Instead, she lifted her chin and descended the remainder of the steps. Taking the bag from the maid, Scarlett sent her to retrieve Emmy and Connor’s coats and to bring her a cloak. Laird passed Hermione to Emmy, effectively forestalling any further arguing as Emmy cradled the sleepy toddler against her shoulder and proceeded to rock her with practiced efficiency.
“What’s all this?” a jovial male drawl boomed into the room as Laird’s brother entered, sweeping a heavy velvet cape from his shoulders. As usual, Rhys was dressed to the nines with a tufted and bejeweled velvet doublet beneath his draping Hepburn kilt. His shaggy ginger hair was ruffled and windblown, though his short beard was tidy. “I thought ye were to the Tarly’s tonight?”
