Page 2 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

Then, a scream. Marcus could not tell whose. He tensed, pushing past Paton, who moved reluctantly out of the way.

From behind the door, a woman cried.

"Aggie?" Laird Marcus pushed at the door, but he was not prepared for what he saw.

In the dim candlelight, the figure on the bed lay eerily still. Beside her, the rotund midwife bustled about, pushing at her belly.

"Come on," she urged, her eyes pressed down. She was so consumed in the task that she did not look up to see Laird Marcus in front of her.

His eyes widened in disbelief. Even in this dim light, he could see the crimson that drenched his sheets. From the doorway, Paton stared through, in open horror.

But Marcus did not notice. He dashed to Agatha's side. Taking her hand, he squeezed it tight.

It was limp.

Next to him, the wise woman was pale. "I'm sorry, sir...but she's slipping..."

"Aggie!" Marcus cried. Grasping Aggie's lifeless form, he cradled her tightly.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the wise woman. "I'm doing all I can, but I am afraid that ye may have to prepare yersel' for the worst..."

Marcus turned on her.

"But why?" he demanded. "She's young, an' hearty!"

Issie did not reply. She was too busy trying to save the young woman's life.

Firmly, she pushed him aside, pulling back the bedding and sending Marcus a pointed look. When he did not move, she addressed him directly.

"Sir, stand back. I dinnae ken if I can help the lassie, but the bairn can still be saved. Ye have tae leave me..."

Her eyes flashed back at him, but Marcus was not budging. Behind him, his counselor cleared his throat again.

"Sir, I—" began Paton, but Marcus dismissed him.

To hell with them. He was the laird. This was his bedchamber, and he was staying.

"Ye can leave now," Marcus said sharply, indicating his gray-haired counselor.

Ruffled, Paton stepped away. "Of course, my laird," he said formally.

Then, the door closed.

Now only wise woman Isobel, Aggie, and the laird remained. Gazing at the waxy face of his sweetheart, Marcus felt his heart throb.

"Aggie, ye've got tae make it. Come on, lass," he whispered. Then he turned to the midwife. "Cannae ye do something more?"

Issie shook her head sadly, her lined face glistening with sweat. Agatha was not the only one to bear the brunt of this labor. Swiftly, she pressed down on Agatha's belly. But Marcus didn't look.

He could feel the life draining out of her. Crushing the girl's slight hand with his grip, he felt how cold she was. Consumed with grief, he nearly did not hear the infant's cry.

"Aggie!" he cried, pressing his face to hers. But Agatha's eyes had closed.

"Sir..." The woman's voice was trembling. Slowly, Marcus turned around. In front of him was a baby, its jet-black head poking up from the midwife's arms.

For a moment, Marcus's heart stopped. It looked so still; he thought it was dead. Then, a second enormous scream rang out loudly, almost so loud it nearly knocked his ears out.

Amazed, Laird Marcus picked up the shaking infant.