Page 125 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Tommy had cried with furious strength. Oscar could still remember the weight of his wet, squalling body in his arms while the midwives worked behind the bed curtains.

“I heard me son’s first cry while his maither lay beyond savin’. The clan received its heir.” He pressed one fist against his sternum. “But Mary paid for it with her life.”

Ceana remained beside the door. Her shoulders had lowered, and her hands now hung open at her sides.

“Since that day, every sign of pregnancy takes me back to that chamber,” Oscar continued. “When ye cannae eat or feel faint, I see the blood on those linens. If I lose ye, there will be too little of me left for Tommy or Paisley.”

For a minute, the room was silent. Oscar bit the inside of his cheek while Ceana looked down at the floor, sympathy flashing across her face. He was grateful for that. The last thing he needed was pity.

Ceana drew in a slow breath. “Ye cannae prevent death by preventin’ me from livin’. Yer fear is already harmin’ the children ye want to protect.”

Oscar raised his eyes to hers. “What do ye need from me?”

“Trust Muriel’s judgment. Let me work, climb the stairs, and hold the children without everyone waitin’ for yer permission.” She took a step toward him. “I will tell ye when I am tired, ill, or afraid. When I say I am well, ye must believe me. The servants must stop reportin’ me every movement.”

“The fear willnae vanish because I have said what happened.” Oscar reached for the bell cord. “It willnae become another order without yer agreement.” He pulled once.

A footman entered, but Oscar kept his eyes on Ceana. “Tell Mairi and the other servants that all reports about Lady MacKane’s meals, work, rest, and movements will cease at once. Her use of the stairs is nay longer restricted.”

“Aye, me Laird.”

The footman bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Oscar rounded the desk and stopped beyond reach. Ceana studied him, her gaze moving over his face before settling on his right hand. She reached for it.

He relaxed his fingers as she turned his wrist and guided his palm downward. Warmth spread through him when she placed his hand on the small swell of her belly.

Suddenly, he felt a flutter against the center of his palm. He stared down, certain it had been Ceana shifting beneath his hand. But then her breath caught.

“Did ye feel that?” she whispered.

The faint flutter touched his palm again.

Oscar sank down to one knee, keeping his hand where she had placed it. His breath broke into a laugh as heat gathered behind his eyes.

“There ye are,” he whispered.

Oscar remained on one knee before her as her hand found his shoulder. Tears clung to his lower lashes, and his shoulders rose unevenly beneath her hand.

“That is really our bairn?”

“Aye.”

His palm stayed warm against her belly. He waited, wanting nothing more than to feel the baby again.

“This doesnae erase what we agreed on,” Ceana warned.

He looked up at her. “I understand.”

“I will accept care, honesty, and reasonable caution. But I willnae accept bein’ watched or askin’ permission to live.”

“Ye willnae have to.”

Ceana stroked the damp hair back from his forehead. “I missed ye for the whole month I was gone. I have missed ye this week too, with ye sleepin’ two paces away.”

“I lay awake wantin’ ye every night.” His fingers curled gently over her belly. “I love ye, Ceana.”

Her breath caught. “I love ye too.”