Tender Feud

And Raith was indeed beginning to feel extraneous. While Flora took the infant, Morag bent over Katrine, urging her to drink another potion. By the time Katrine finished the draft, her eyelids were drooping with fatigue.

Reluctantly Raith rose to his feet. “I’ll let you sleep,” he told her, pressing a light kiss on her brow.

“I am a little tired,” she murmured with a wan smile.

He had turned to go when her sleepy voice called him back. “Raith?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You didn’t need…all those eminent surgeons…after all,” she mumbled drowsily.

“No,” he replied softly. Thank God, no, he thought as he let himself quietly from the room and went downstairs.

Callum had been loitering in the study, pretending to read. When Raith joined him, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

Raith grinned for the first time in fifteen hours. “A son.”

Callum grinned as well. His expression relaxing, he held up the decanter of malt whisky that was resting at his elbow. “This calls for a toast. Besides, you look like you could use a dram.” Callum chuckled. “What the devil happened to you up there? You didn’t look this battered after Culloden.”

Raith laughed himself, knowing he looked as if he had just survived a battle, knowing also that he felt absurdly pleased and proud of it.

“And Katrine, how is she?”

“Fine. They tell me for a first child it was a relatively easy birth.” He hesitated, his face sobering. “God, I didn’t want to lose her.” Raith closed his eyes and found himself shuddering. If she had died, the brightness in his life would have been extinguished. He couldn’t imagine living his life in darkness again.

“Well, you didn’t lose her,” Callum said practically. “And Ardgour now has an heir.”

Raith let out a long, slow breath. “Yes.”

“What will you name him?” Callum asked when they each had a full glass.

“Damned if I know. I was afraid to think that far ahead.”

“Well then, let us drink to your heir. May you have many more—”

“Cousin, if you value your life, you won’t wish another such ordeal on me.”

Flashing a provoking grin, Callum slapped Raith on the back. “I imagine Katrine will have something to say to that.”

“I imagine she will,” Raith agreed, his tone wry.

“Well, at least you can send the surgeons home now.”

Raith nodded. He hadn’t told Katrine about the three surgeons from Edinburgh he had summoned a week ago. He’d billeted them at Corran and sent for them the moment Katrine went into labor.

“They weren’t happy about you requiring all three of them,” Callum continued. “Professional pique, I think. And no doubt they’ll be highly indignant about not being called upon after they’ve come all this way. If I were you, I’d offer each of them a cask of your finest malt in addition to his fee. And you’d better invite them to spend the night in the house.” Callum paused, slanting his cousin a sly look. “There was never any need for secrecy, in any case. Katrine knew they were here.”

His glass halting halfway to his lips, Raith stared. “She knew?”

Callum’s lips curved smugly. “There isn’t much Katie misses, you know that. She’s a canny sort, your Katrine.”

“Why didn’t she say something? I expected her to take my head off if I so much as hinted that I didn’t trust Morag.”

“Katrine thought you needed the reassurance—and you did. Those surgeons were all that kept you from tearing out your hair this morning. Ah, cousin, you must love her a great deal.” Callum shook his head in disbelief. “I never thought to see you so daft over a lass.”

“Wait till your turn comes.”

“A long time from now, I trust. No, cousin, there’s no one left for me. You’ve claimed Katie and her sisters are married.”