Page 98 of The Moonstone Major
Nor did he care about his newly won claim against the Brennan family. He owed his brothers-in-law, Mr. Barrow, and Ducky for finding the evidence to prove his rightful place as heir. Mostly, he owed Chloe for her faith and persistence in putting all the pieces together. Without her, Ducky and Mr. Barrow might not have discovered the letter Viscount Brennan had written confessing what he had done.
Fionn still could not believe he held the true claim to the title. But that letter had been left with the viscount’s solicitor, who “happened” to find it the moment pressure was applied on him. It was inconceivable to Fionn that the solicitor hadn’t simply burned it at the urging of the Brennan clan, who would have given him a hefty fee for making that evidence disappear. But holding on to it and thinking to use it as blackmail leverage over the years had proven too great a temptation for the man.
Thank heaven for greedy men.
But right now, Fionn did not care about anything other than Chloe.
She would always come first in his heart, and he would give up anything and everything for her.
The wind stiffened and the sun began to slowly sink on the horizon. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been outside, lost in his thoughts. Hours, certainly.
He had just decided to return to the cottage when he heard an infant’s cries coming from his bedchamber.
The hearty sound carried across the garden and reached his ears.
He stared up to find Chloe’s sisters standing on the balcony of the bedchamber, waving to him.
“Dear heaven,” he muttered, breaking into a grin, for he could not overlook that Phoebe held a squawking bundle in her arms.
He raced to the cottage and was about to run upstairs when Hen scampered downstairs. She looked exhausted but glowingly happy. “Your wife and son will see you in a moment. The midwife is just finishing up now.”
He heard men’s laughter emanating from the parlor and realized Cain and Cormac had arrived to lend their support. “When did you get here?” he asked the pair, shaking their hands in greeting.
“About an hour ago. We saw you by the beach stairs but did not want to disturb you. We’ve been through this and know what you must have been feeling. Well done, Fionn,” Cain said, giving him a congratulatory slap on the back.
Cormac did the same.
Fionn laughed. “Blessed saints! I have a son.”
He ran upstairs the moment Hen gave him the nod, and then paused in the doorway of the bedchamber, afraid to approach until summoned by the midwife. “They are all yours,” Phoebe said, then kissed him on the cheek before making her escape downstairs.
The midwife, Alice Hewitt, who happened to be the local doctor’s eldest sister, cleared her throat. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone with your family, my lord. There is more to do before I leave, but go ahead and enjoy them while I wash up.”
He was never going to get used to being addressed as “my lord.”
My lord.
Street urchin turned viscount.
And he had sired an heir.
That little heir had a tuft of dark hair on his head and was announcing his arrival with a hearty wail as he lay in his mother’s arms.
Chloe was beaming, but obviously exhausted.
Fionn strode to the bed and knelt beside her to stare at the beautiful pair. “He’s a noisy chap. Isn’t he, love?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Well, he wants to make his presence known to us.”
“He’s beautiful. So are you.”
“His face is red and squashed. He looks like a squashed red potato. But I think he will grow up to be as handsome as you. As for me, I am afraid to even look at myself in the mirror. I might crack it.”
“No, love. I have never seen you look lovelier.” He took her hand and kissed it. Then he carefully reached over and kissed her on the lips. “I love you so much, Chloe.”
She caressed his cheek. “Likewise, my lord.”
Their son had stopped fussing and was now resting quietly at her breast. “Chloe…” He had not cried in over twenty years, not since deciding to escape the orphanage and attempting to survive on his own on the London streets.
