Page 49 of My Highland Rogue
“I’ve something to say,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Don’t tire yourself,” Jennifer said, smoothing the sheets over Sean’s chest.
He turned his head at her voice, then closed his eyes, sighed, and remained silent.
“What is it, Da?”
“Naught,” Sean said. “Naught at all.”
They remained there long enough to be assured that Sean had no intention of speaking. He fell into an uneasy sleep, his hands occasionally twitching on the sheet.
Finally, they stood and left the room, leaving Sean to rest.
“You look as tired as I feel,” she said, smiling up at him.
“It’s been a long night.”
“Will you meet me later?” she asked. “At the loch? I’ll bring a lunch for us.”
He nodded.
She turned to leave him, her hand brushing his. He wanted to reach out and grab it, pull her to him, and hold her. Just that, to hold her for afew minutes, to allow himself the luxury of being with the one person in the world he loved unconditionally.
When the door closed behind her, he turned to Moira. “I’m going to sleep for a bit. If I’m needed, please come and get me.”
“Aye, that I will, but for now you go and get some rest. There’s time enough for worry later.”
When he woke, he would see if Sean felt like talking and find out what he wanted to say but couldn’t in front of Jennifer.
Lauren’s daughter was born in the wee hours of the morning which, according to Mrs. Farmer, was not unusual. The baby was healthy, already expressing her displeasure about having to wait a moment to be fed, and was instantly adored by her mother and her aunt.
Jennifer said a fervent prayer of thanks. She’d known that first births were long, but she’d never thought that it would take this many hours. The baby was perfect, however, even if she was loud. The two of them, Lauren and her daughter, were a picture she would not shortly forget.
She was careful not to compliment her niece. Doing so would summon all sorts of bad luck including beingforespoken. To prevent such a thing from happening, the infant was passed through the nightgown that Lauren had been wearing at the time of her birth three times. Then Mrs. Farmer washed the baby in ice-cold water. Great care was taken so that the water didn’t touch the baby’s palms. Otherwise, any luck the child might have in acquiring worldly goods as anadult would be washed away. Finally, the infant was wrapped in her father’s shirt before being turned over to the nurse Jennifer had hired a week ago. Alice was barely older than a child herself, but she was bright, eager to please, and was well thought of in the village.
Harrison would be invited to visit his wife and their daughter as soon as Lauren was dressed in a clean gown and the linens changed once more.
Jennifer went in search of her brother now, knowing that despite the early hour Harrison was probably awake.
He was in the library, the first place she looked, his feet propped up on the desk that had been commissioned by their great-grandfather, a snifter of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.
She stood in front of the desk until he looked up, saw her, and nodded. Evidently, that was the only recognition she was going to get.
“You have a beautiful baby girl, Harrison.”
He took a sip of his brandy, then waved his cigar in her direction.
“Not an heir, then. Pity.”
She understood his need for an heir, but at the same time she couldn’t help but feel a surge of irritation. Lauren had been in labor a day and a half and he could at least come and visit her.
Nor had he inquired as to his wife’s health in the past eight months. If Ellen hadn’t gone to London to get him, would Harrison have even come home? She had the sinking feeling that he wouldn’t have bothered. Perhaps he would have sent some type of gift to Lauren, a string of pearls to mark the occasion, but little else.
Gordon had once said that Harrison was the epitome of a perfectly selfish person. She’d always tried to find something about her brother to admire, but he’d been making it more and more difficult in the past few years.
“You need to come and see the baby.”
“Why? She won’t know I’m there. Babies aren’t real people until they’re six or seven or so.”
