The Recruit Read online

  She smothered a cry, holding her stomach in her hands and curling up in a ball as another pain struck.

  “Count,” one of the sailors said from beside her. He was a heavily bearded man with the rough, craggy face of someone who’d spent many years on a boat. “My wife has had ten babes, and she says it helps to count aloud. If you know how long they’ll last it helps to bear the pain.”

  Mary wasn’t sure about that, but at least it would give her something to do. She counted to twenty before the contraction started to release. “Men approaching, Captain!” someone shouted.

  It seemed as if an enormous, silent cheer went up. Apparently, the men were eager to relinquish their responsibility: her. From her place in the curve of the hull, it wasn’t easy to sit up, so she was forced to wait for him to find her.

  “Where is she?”

  The men cleared a path, and she caught her first glimpse of him. He was filthy, covered in dirt and blood, his face streaked with soot, dark hair matted with sweat from his helm, but he’d never looked more magnificent. She wanted to throw her arms around him and bury her head against his chest like a bairn. She tried to sit up, but felt a pinch that made her wince and sink back against the comfortable hull.

  Kenneth swore, his furious gaze shooting to Hawk. “What’s wrong with her? Is she hurt?”

  “Nothing—”

  Not waiting for the rest of Hawk’s answer, Kenneth jumped from bench to bench (or more accurately, wooden trunk to wooden trunk), closing the distance between them. Mary sobbed with relief, finding herself enfolded in her husband’s strong embrace.

  It was going to be all right. He was here. She was safe. She wasn’t going to have to do this alone. She let go of some of the fear she’d been holding, knowing he would take it for her.

  “What’s wrong?” he soothed gently. “Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Mother?”

  Mary pulled back in shock. She gazed to the rear of the boat, where her son had just boarded beside Magnus MacKay. “Davey?” she whispered.

  Her heart swelled with joy.

  She looked to Kenneth. “How?”

  He smiled tenderly. “I will tell you everything later, but first tell me—”

  He stopped when she cried out in pain again. Holding her stomach, she started to count. This time she counted to thirty.

  Vaguely, she was aware of her frantic husband beside her. “What’s wrong with her, damn it? Why is she counting? Do something to help her!”

  Mary didn’t know to whom he shouted the last order, but it was Magnus MacKay who responded.

  “Congratulations, Recruit.”

  Kenneth answered, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re about to become a father.”

  Kenneth’s gaze shot to hers for confirmation. The pain had relaxed enough for her to nod.

  His eyes widened for a fraction of an instant, and she saw the same fear and helplessness she’d seen in the other men’s faces. But then his expression changed into one of steely determination. “Not yet, I’m not. This babe is going to be born in Dunstaffnage, with my sister’s help.”

  No one dared argue with him.

  “How fast can you take us home, Hawk?” he asked.

  Mary’s heart caught. Home. To Scotland. With her husband and her son. She’d never dared to dream of this.

  “By tomorrow night. Maybe a little sooner if the winds are with us.”

  “Tomorrow night!” she exclaimed. She couldn’t do this for a whole day. How long had it taken with Davey? Nearly that long, she realized glumly. It wasn’t something she liked to remember. “What if the baby comes before that?”

  “He won’t,” Kenneth said with such conviction, she almost believed him.

  He sat beside her and pulled her back against his chest into the protective circle of his arms, settling in for the long battle ahead. He held her like that for hours. Her volatile, hot-tempered, passionate husband had become her anchor in a stormy sea. He smoothed her hair, mopped her brow with a cool cloth, whispered gentle words of love in her ear, and helped her count as the contractions became more frequent, more intense, and longer. He calmed her with stories when the pain became too unbearable and she started to cry, telling him she couldn’t do this any longer.

  “Yes, you can,” he said softly. “You can do this. You’re strong. I have you.”

  His calm, steady voice kept the panic at bay. He told her of the life they would have together. The castle in the north of Scotland that he kept for his brother. The green of the grass, the white of the beaches, the impossible blue of the sea, the white foam of the waves crashing against the black rocks, the briny tang of the air. He told her of his family. Of the children they would have. He spoke of the quiet, peaceful years they would spend together.

  It sounded like heaven. Even when she didn’t think she could bear it a moment longer, those stories kept her going. She wanted to live that life with him.

  Mary had almost forgotten about the other men on the ship until she heard a cry go out, “Castle ahead, Captain!”

  The relief around her was almost palpable.

  “You did it, love.” The pains were only a minute apart, and another one hit. He held her, almost as if trying to absorb the pain for her. “Hold on just a little longer …”

  But Mary couldn’t hold back anything. She was too weak. She screamed as the pain took hold and the urge to push became overwhelming.

  “He’s coming,” she gasped, her voice racked with panic.

  Their eyes met. His steely determination, his absolute confidence, his unwavering certainty that everything was going to be all right eased her fear.

  “Someone get me some light!” he shouted at one of the men. Day had turned to night again without her noticing. A torch was handed back, and he handed it to one of the men seated nearby. Most of the men had given her a wide berth. Though at the time she didn’t care, she knew she would be glad later that her modesty was preserved when he moved her skirts up to see what was happening. She watched his face the entire time, but if he was concerned, he gave nothing away. “Hawk, you’d better make it quick.”

  Twenty-seven

  Kenneth had never been more scared in his life, seeing the top of his son’s head between his wife’s legs. But the brash confidence that had gotten him in trouble more than once proved a useful mask. The wife who calmed him needed him to calm her.

  It had been the most harrowing twenty-four hours of his life. He felt as if he’d been chewed up by a great beast and spit out in ragged pieces. Every nerve ending in his body was raw and frayed. But this wasn’t over yet. If he had to deliver his son on this damned boat, he would do it.

  Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Hawk defied the laws of nature and sailed them into the small harbor in record time. Their ship had been sighted, and his sister was at the shore, waiting to greet them. Instead, she was rushed into service. As there wasn’t time to move Mary, men were sent running for the things Helen would need.

  A look of shock broke through the pain when Mary caught sight of Helen. “Your sister? The woman in the stables was your sister?”

  Under the circumstances, the look of outrage on her face nearly made him laugh. “I told you it wasn’t how it looked.”

  She glared at him until the next pain took hold. He held her hand, letting her squeeze his, her tiny nails digging into his skin as a spasm seemed to envelop her entire body.

  He didn’t know how she could bear it. He wanted to shout out his frustration. To kill someone for doing this to her. To take her pain for himself. But he couldn’t. So instead, he stayed by her side, calmly and soothingly trying to ease her suffering.

  After all the hard work he’d endured during their long journey, it seemed unfair that Helen arrived in time for three long pushes and all the glory when a few moments later, the future Earl of Sutherland made his appearance. Tiny and wrinkled, the laddie nonetheless possessed a remarkable set of lungs