“Wee Jamie,” Davina said, her voice thick with emotion.
“And Alasdair, for Father,” Eilidh said. She needed to wipe her eyes and nose, but she was holding the baby, so she was satisfied with sniffing loudly.
“We willnae be telling my husband that the baby’s name is for him,” Vaila said, looking at Ewan sternly, as if she believed the Laird liable to succumb to any such sentimentalism. “He will be insufferable.”
“He’s my closest friend. I daresay he’ll figure it out,” Ewan said, gesturing to Eilidh that it was his turn to hold wee Jamie.
“I’m going to tell him that ye are named after the last proper King of Scotland,” Vaila said, ducking her head to let the child grab her finger in one chubby fist. “Just to torment him. It’s best to do that to husbands, just to keep them on their toes.”
“Dinnae be teaching my son such things, ye wee devil,” Ailsa said, trying to push herself up, her struggles marked as she fought against the soreness that followed childbed. “Give him here.”
Ewan clutched the boy to his chest. “Ye have had him to yourself for months.”
“He wasinside my body!”
“Besides,” Ewan continued without reacting to his wife’s protestation, bending low over the baby and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “The midwife said that ye must rest.”
Ailsaharrumphed, but she didn’t argue. She leaned her head back once more and let her eyes flutter shut, her posture one of clear exhaustion.
Davina caught Eilidh’s eye and tilted her head toward the door; Vaila was already carefully rising from the edge of Ailsa’sbed. It was time they left the new family of three to spend time together without any visitors.
“We’ll come see ye later,” Vaila whispered as Davina bent to press a kiss on their eldest sister’s cheek. “Ye rest for now.”
“Ye did well, Ailsa,” Eilidh praised when it was her turn. She moved to leave but was surprised when an impressive grip held onto her wrist. She looked down to see Ailsa peering up at her with keen eyes.
“That’s blood on your dress,” she said, peering at Eilidh’s bodice.
“Um.” Eilidh looked down and indeed, there was a splotch she hadn’t seen, tucked on the side of her ribs and half-hidden by her arm. Half hidden was not hidden enough, however, not for her whip-smart sister.
“Whose is it?” Ailsa demanded.
She really did have an astonishing hold on Eilidh’s arm. It really seemed that she ought to be too tired from her ordeal to cling so tightly.
“Nobody?” Eilidh hazarded.
Ailsa squeezed tighter.Ow.
Ewan sighed. He really did have the exasperated father look down pat already.
“There’s a stranger in the Keep,” he told his wife. “We dinnae ken who he is, but he’s nae a threat at the moment. He was nearly dead when he rode into the training yard.”
“And nobody recognized him?” Ailsa asked. “He’s not from nearby?”
She shot an anxious look at her son at the mention of the villain, as if remembering for the first time that the outside world could harm her precious new babe.
Ewan’s mouth was a grim line. “We dinnae ken just yet. Odd thing, though—he was riding a Donaghey horse.”
Ailsa frowned. “Someone from Dunnet then? One of the villagers? Or someone who has aught to do with Gordon?”
Davina and Vaila had almost been out of the room, but now they, like Ailsa, whipped around to stare at Eilidh. James, too, was there in the open doorway; he’d been waiting outside to give Ailsa privacy, as she was not yet fully dressed following giving birth.
Eilidh winced at the weight of so many curious eyes.
“Aye, I recognized the mount,” she confirmed for her sisters. “But he did tell me his name—Ciaran Gunn.”
James swore in Gaelic, and Ewan’s expression grew even harder.
“Saints above,” he murmured, careful not to wake wee Jamie, even in his dismay. “That’s a name I havenae heard in an age.”
