Page 134 of Ghost of the Ton

“Hamish!” Iona cried. “Where are ye?”

“I’m here, sister,” he said.

“Will I die today? Mia! Tell me if I’ll die today.”

Hamish exchanged a glance with Mia, his eyes narrowing as he recognized her fear. Then he mouthed, Be strong for her, lass.

Mia nodded.

“Not if I can help it,” she said. “Now, I want you to listen to my voice and do as I say. You must try not to push even though you’ll feel that you need to. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes, I—Oh!”

Iona let out another cry as Mia felt the child’s body, cupping the tiny form as its legs emerged—first one, then the other, then the lower torso.

“Thank the Lord!” Elspeth exclaimed. “It’s a girl!”

“It’s not over yet,” Mia said. “There’s still a risk that…” She glanced toward Iona’s face, contorted in agony, and lowered her voice. “The risk to the child is at its greatest unless I can turn her around.”

“What can I do?” Hamish said, and placed a hand on Mia’s arm. “Let me help ye.”

“I-I don’t know,” she said. “I read about this in Dr. McIver’s notes, but I’ve not even seen him undertake the procedure, much less do it myself. What if I fail?”

“Then ye’ll at least have tried,” he said. “There’s none other with whom I’d trust my sister’s life, or my own.”

Mia’s heart swelled as she swallowed the rising terror. Dr. McIver had always said that while caution was a quality essential in a physician, fear was the doctor’s most powerful foe.

And the man beside her, supporting her—the man who called her my love—strove to conquer her fear on her behalf. She owed it to him to show that his trust was not misguided.

“Very well,” she said. “Hold the child in position. Firmly, but gently—yes, like that. Now, the next time Iona moves, the child will want to come farther out, but you must keep her there while I try to free her arms.”

“Aye, I understand.”

Iona let out another wail and Mia froze. Hamish met her gaze.

“I trust ye, lass,” he said. “Ye’ve saved countless lives already and we’re so much in yer debt—ye can save two more today. My clever, brave wee wife.”

He smiled encouragement, and Mia slipped her hand along the tiny form until she felt a shoulder. Then, carefully, she rotated the baby.

“The next time Iona moves, pull—but gently,” she whispered.

He nodded, then, as Iona stiffened once more, the child slipped farther out, releasing her arms.

“Stop!” Mia cried. “I must protect the baby’s head. Wait until I say.”

With her fingertips, she found the chin and slipped her hand up to cup the delicate little head. Then she closed her eyes and uttered a prayer before gently easing the head out. Iona let out a wail as the child finally slipped from her body, then collapsed back on the bed, eyes closed.

“See to Iona, Elspeth,” Mia said.

“What about the child, Yer Ladyship?”

Mia glanced at the tiny form. Fear morphed into dread as the child’s lips darkened in color until they were almost purple. She placed a hand on the baby’s chest and held her breath. Then the little girl tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and let out a long, low wail. Her chest expanded as she inhaled, and her cheeks reddened as she screamed at the world to herald her entry into it.

Tears stung Mia’s eyes as she pulled a blanket around the little form and held the child in her arms—the child she had brought into the world.

Then she heard a long, low sob and looked up to see her husband, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening, tears falling onto his cheeks.

“You have a niece,” she whispered.