Page 130 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“So are mine.”

Muriel showed him how to support the baby’s small head, and Oscar took him.

The baby was warm and surprisingly light. His furious cry vibrated against Oscar’s palm. When Ceana reached out, he returned the baby to her. She opened her eyes above their son’s dark head as Oscar slipped one hand beneath him and closed the other around her fingers.

They were both warm.

When she handed the baby back to him, he sat beside the bed with his swaddled son cradled against his chest. Muriel had helped Ceana into a fresh shift and changed the bedding, though Ceana remained pale from labor. Sweat dampened the hair at her temples, and her eyes were heavy.

The baby shifted against Oscar and made a small sound of protest. Oscar adjusted his arm beneath the slight weight, careful of the head resting near his elbow. Paisley’s ribbon glinted from the cradle.

“The bairns may visit for a short while, if Ceana wishes it,” Muriel allowed.

Oscar looked at his wife. “Are ye ready for them?”

“Aye. Let them come.”

“And Ceana will say when she has had enough,” Muriel added.

“Aye,” Oscar agreed.

Soon enough, Heather opened the door. Tommy bolted across the threshold, and Mairi caught the back of his tunic before he reached the bed.

“Mind the bairn,” she warned.

He slowed down at once, placing each foot with exaggerated care.

Paisley entered behind him, while David hovered near the door with Heather.

Paisley barely glanced at the bundle in Oscar’s arms. Her eyes fixed on Ceana. “Are ye truly well?” she asked.

Ceana lifted her head from the pillow. “I am sore, hungry, and in need of every pillow in the castle. So, aye, sweetness, I am well.”

“She needs food and rest now,” Muriel said. “Ye can believe her.”

Paisley approached the bed. When Ceana opened one arm, the girl leaned against her with such care that her shoulder barely touched the mattress. Ceana drew her closer and cupped her cheek.

Paisley pressed her face into Ceana’s palm. Her breath caught, and her fingers tightened around the sheet. Oscar watched his wife brush her thumb beneath the girl’s eye until her tight grip loosened.

“May I see me braither?” Tommy asked.

Oscar lowered the baby enough for him to take a look. Tommy bent forward, studying the small face tucked within the linen.

“He is smaller than Ness.”

“Ness is nearly grown,” Paisley said without lifting her cheek from Ceana’s hand.

“Can he see? Does he bite? Can he hold anythin’?”

Oscar lifted the baby’s hand from the swaddle and placed Tommy’s finger in his tiny palm. The baby’s fingers immediately closed around it.

“He likes me best!” Tommy announced.

“Then we have a problem,” Paisley said.

Tommy’s pleased expression faltered.

Oscar rested his free hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He is yer braither. He would be wrong to nae like ye.”