Page 36 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
Nicola used the half-eaten apple to gesture. “Is that a skill bairns learn later?”
“Aye, most can roll from their stomachs to their backs at this age, but he’s the only one I’ve kenned who prefers his stomach.” Ramsay bit into a piece of dried meat, then moved the wooden rattle farther from the bairn’s reach. “Come and get it,” he urged as he chewed.
‘Twas easier to talk of Relic rather than what had happened between them, so they ate and chatted and marveled at the tiny miracle before them.
“He’s trying to pull himself along, see? The nappy is likely in his way, but he’s too young to train just yet.”
She waited to swallow the piece of bread she was chewing, then asked, “Howdoye ken so much about bairns, Ramsay? I’ve never kenned a warrior to care about children as much as ye do, much less understand them.”
His smile was crooked as he scooped up Relic and repositioned the laddie. “I’m my parents’ auldest, aye? I told ye that.”
“Ye did. Laird McIlvain is yer da.” From what she knew of the clan, ‘twas a small but prosperous holding down near Inverness. “Yer mother is still alive?”
“Nay, she died when I was young. But my father’s second wife raised me, and I love her as much as I could the woman who birthed me.”
Love. He freely admitted his feelings for his mother and his family.
Ramsay McIlvain was a Hunter, aye, and a dangerous man…but he wasn’t one to fear. He was so open with his emotions, his affections; she only had to see him with Relic to know he was a good, caring man, and strong enough to protect those he loved.
“My parents are quite fond of one another, and Mother is sturdy. For a while there, she was popping out another bairn every other year or so. Sometimes twins.”
Twins? Nicola froze, the bread halfway to her mouth. “Every other year? She’s in good health? How many siblings do ye have? Five? Six?”
His smirk was wry as he leaned back on his elbow. “Last time I was home? Thirteen.” When she choked on her piece of bread, he was quick to point out, “But I havenae seen them since afore Hogmanay, with my duties to the King. ‘Tis possible she’s expecting another—she’s no’ yet forty years auld.”
Nicola had to grab for the water skin to calm her coughing. When she did, she glared at him, still clutching the water skin. “Impossible.Thirteen younger siblings? All from the same mother?”
Chuckling, he pushed himself upright once more. “Aye, I said she was sturdy. My next auldest brother is eight years younger than me—twenty, now—and my youngest sister should be…” He tipped his head back as he considered. “She should be almost two by now. Thank Christ they’re all as hale and hearty as Mother and Da. But aye, I’ve changed my share of nappies and held wee fingers as they learned to walk.”
“That’s…” Nicola shook her head. “I thoughtourhome was madness, with six sisters. Butfourteenchildren?”
“Aye,” he chuckled, as he began to pack up the food. “I told ye my parents were fond of one another.”
“Fondness is one thing, Ramsay,” she said sternly, “but clearly yer parents need a discussion on birth control.”
His laughter grew. “And ye’ll be the one to tell them, will ye?”
“Someone has to,” she muttered, handing him the rest of the bread to pack. “That cannae be healthy.”
“She’s had three sets of twins, and one set of triplets.”
Nicola’s jaw dropped. “And they all lived? Do ye have any idea how rare that is in this day and age?”
“What, triplets?”
“Nay,surviving triplets. ‘Twill be centuries afore historians can reliably document cases of surviving triplets. They’re usually born so small…”
Ramsay shook his head with another chuckle. “I have nae idea what ye’re speaking of, but Hugh, Dewey, and Lewis are all alive and well—at least they were when I left—and making everyone’s lives hell as only six-year-auld boys can.”
“That’s incredible,” she whispered.
“Nay, what’s incredible was that I forgot about them. A wee bash on the head and I forget the people who matter most to me?” He scoffed at himself as he scooped up the bairn. “I cannae ever tell Mother that; she’d be insulted.”
Smiling, Nicola laid her hand on his arm. “’Twas more than a wee knock, Ramsay. But yer secret’s safe with me.”
His eye held some deep emotion, one she couldn’t identify, when he met her gaze. “I owe it to ye, lass,” he murmured, his voice rough. “If ye hadnae told me, if ye hadnae helped me…”
Briefly, her fingers closed around his forearm. Aye, shehadhelped him. But her smile felt sickly when she shrugged. “That’s what healers do. They help people.”
