Page 45 of In Love With the Wrong Highland Sister
James frowned. “We will have to do it bare-knuckled then!” he suggested, raising his eyebrows in a question.
Laria gave a mock sigh. “Ooh, that sounds painful!” she said, wincing, then she grinned wickedly. “Come and do your duty, Husband!”
Five months later…
“I think I am going to be sick again,” Laria complained, as yet another wave of nausea washed over her. “This has been going on for weeks now, Jamie. Do you think I should see a physician?”
James looked at her with raised eyebrows as if to say, “Remember the last time you did that?” He sighed and pulled her into his arms, then kissed her softly. “We can ask Mistress Morrison if you like.”
“She is the midwife, Jamie!” Laria was horrified. “Why would she come to see me? I am barren, remember?”
“She may be the midwife, but she deals with all ladies’ ailments, my love,” he pointed out. He was desperately anxious, but he tried not to show it by trying to appear as calm as he could. “I cannot bear to see you so unwell, so I will send one of the maids to the village to fetch her. I am sure there is nothing to worry about.”
He cupped her face in his hands and looked deeply into her silver-gray eyes. “You know, perhaps there is a remote possibility…” He paused as if afraid to go on. “…that you are with child?”
Laria clenched her hands into fists. Every time she had allowed herself to think of that possibility, she had ruthlessly thrust the notion out of her mind.
“No!” she cried, pushing him away. “I am barren. I have been told by experts. But call the woman if you want, Jamie. She may be able to give me a potion or a powder to settle my stomach.” Laria ran her fingers through James’s dark hair, unbound at this time in the morning, and smiled at him. “I am sorry, Jamie, but I could not bear to raise your hopes.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But we must see if there is anything she can do. I hate to see you suffering like this.”
Laria nodded. “Of course,” she agreed. “When one of us suffers, the other one does too.”
* * *
Jeannie Morrison was a comfortably plump woman in her middle years with curly red hair and blue eyes that were almost, but not quite, as bright as James’s. She exuded an air of calm and quiet confidence born from years of experience.
She began her examination by asking Laria a few general questions about her health, but then she asked: “When did ye last have yer courses, mistress?”
“About three months ago,” Laria replied, “but that is not unusual. I have always been irregular.”
Jeannie felt her stomach all over, looking thoughtful. “An’ ye say ye have been sick, mistress? For how long?”
“The last three weeks or so,” Laria answered. “Why?”
The woman smiled. “Ye will be missin’ yer courses for a while longer, Laria. Ye are wi’ child.”
For a moment, Laria stared at her, unable to believe her ears. “But I am barren!” she cried. “I had a fever in my glands. I was told that I could never bear a child. This is impossible!”
The midwife shook her head. “Whoever told ye that was wrong, mistress. Was it a man?”
Laria nodded.
“I think I know the one ye mean, an’ he is no’ a very good healer.” Jeannie frowned and shook her head. “Did he examine ye?”
“No. Men are not allowed to touch us. You know that,” Laria replied tersely.
“Aye, I dae, but some o’ them dae it anyway,” Jeannie said with undisguised contempt. “Anyway, I will leave ye somethin’ tae settle yer stomach, an’ I will come tae see ye in a few weeks. Look after yerself. If ye need me, ye know where I am. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Laria said before Jeannie left, then turned to look at James. He was smiling from ear to ear, and his vivid blue eyes were full of tears. He put his hand on Laria’s still-flat stomach, then bent to kiss it.
“I cannot believe it,” Laria breathed. “Are you happy, Jamie?”
“More than I can say,” he replied, wiping his eyes. “I told you that a baby never mattered to me as long as I had you, and that is still true, but a baby with you is more than I ever dreamed of. Thank you!”
“You were there too,” she reminded him.
* * *
