Page 141 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

Her eyes popped wide. “Braden, you’ve already proposed. There’s no need to do it again.”

“I’m not. I just want you to look at me. Whatever it is, there’s no need to hide or be ashamed. You can tell me anything, and I will never judge you.”

Samantha stared at him, her deep brown gaze swimming with a mix of turbulent emotions. Defiance was there, certainly, and even some anger, but underneath lurked sorrow and shame.

“Sweet lass, please trust me. Don’t shut me out.”

She blinked, likely trying to hold back tears. “I don’t want to shut you out, but it’s very hard to talk about.”

“That means it’s a burden, and one you’ve been carrying for much too long. You don’t have to do that anymore. I’m here to carry it with you.”

Her head dipped, and she breathed out a sad, gentle sigh that almost broke his heart. “It’s about what happened when I lost my baby, after Roger died. I was very ill for a time.”

He took her hands again. They were ice-cold, so he enfolded them within his. “Bathsheba told me, though she was very circumspect. I don’t know the details.”

Samantha managed a wobbly smile. “She’s very loyal, as is John. I don’t think I would have survived without them.”

Anger and sorrow cinched his heart. It killed him that she’d suffered so much, but right now he needed to be calm and patient for her sake.

He settled back on his heels, intending to give her as much time as she needed.

“I was quite far along when I miscarried,” she finally said. “Because I was already in a weakened emotional state, I struggled. It took a long time and there was quite a lot of blood. The physician who attended me at the time—Beath’s doctor, as you recall—said that I suffered an injury.”

While her voice was low and steady, her complexion had gone dead white. There was an almost hollow look to her gaze, as if she were staring at the horrors of that past event and not him.

Braden chafed her hands. “Did he give you any more detail than that?”

“Not much. Dr. Lane was not the sort of man to discuss such issues with the ladies, as he put it.” She gave an angry little snort. “He is an awful person. I’d like nothing better than to bash him with the butt of my pistol, to tell you the truth.”

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She was coming back to life, and she was angry—as she should be.

“I wouldn’t trust a word Lane said,” he replied. “But he obviouslydidtell you something, because it upset you.”

She squarely met his gaze. “He said I would never be able to have children. That my insides were ruined.”

“What?”

Samantha jumped in her seat. “Really, Braden, there is no need to shout. I am right here.”

He squeezed her hands. “Sorry, sorry. I can barely believe Lane would say such a thing. I swear I’m going to kill the moron the next time I see him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t try to stop you.”

“Did you tell John what he said?”

“Yes, and John’s initial response was much the same as yours. Although his language was even more colorful.”

Braden smiled. “What was his medical opinion, though?”

“After he examined me, John said that, contrary to Lane’s opinion, it was impossible to make such a firm assessment.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Really, this is rather embarrassing. I cannot believe I’m discussing this with you.”

“Love, I’m a physician. I’m the perfect person to discuss it with.”

“Yes, but you also wish to marry me.”

“Another reason why we should be discussing it. Now, what else did John have to say?”

“He said I shouldn’t make any assumptions, since there was no way to tell if I could bear a child until I tried to . . .” She twirled a hand. “You know.”

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