Page 129 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

He forced his gaze to her face. Sweat covered her brow, and exhaustion had drawn her mouth tight.

“I am still here,” she reassured him.

“Ye asked me to speak if I saw danger. I see none. Trust me and hold her,” Muriel urged.

Oscar loosened his grip. “Forgive me.”

“I need yer hand more than yer apology,” Ceana grunted.

He gave it to her.

The next contraction closed her fingers around his until her nails broke the skin over his knuckles.

“I have had enough of this child’s stubbornness,” she said through clenched teeth.

“The bairn clearly inherited it from ye.”

“When I finish givin’ birth, I shall hurt ye.”

Her mouth opened with the next contraction, and the threat broke into a groan. Oscar held her gaze while her shoulders shook. She gripped his hand and breathed through the pain.

“The child is comin’,” Muriel said.

Oscar kept his eyes on Ceana. Her nails cut deeper as her whole body strained against his support.

Ceana gripped his hand with both of hers and gave one final effort. Behind her, Muriel reached forward as the baby’s shoulders emerged, followed quickly by the rest of his small body into her waiting hands.

For one moment, Oscar heard only Ceana’s ragged breathing. Then a thin, furious cry filled the chamber, and he froze. Tommy’s newborn cry returned with the image of his first wife lying still.

He blinked twice and looked directly at Ceana. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes opened.

“Oscar,” she rasped. “Ye are crushin’ me fingers.”

He released the pressure at once.

“Help her settle back,” Muriel said calmly.

Oscar obeyed.

The baby cried again while Muriel wrapped him in clean linen, and then she examined Ceana and checked her pulse. Oscar waited until she withdrew her hand.

“Is she well?”

“She is tired and sore, as she has every right to be, but she is presently well,” Muriel assured him. “Ye have a strong son.”

At the door, a maid asked what news she should carry downstairs.

“Tell them Lady MacKane is well. Then tell them we have a son,” Oscar called.

“Let me see him,” Ceana demanded.

Muriel placed the wrapped baby in her arms. Ceana brushed one finger over his cheek, and he turned toward her warmth.

“Do ye intend to meet yer son?” she asked.

Oscar approached when she beckoned him over and held the baby out to him. “Will ye hold him?”

“Me hands are shakin’.”