Page 185 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

EPILOGUE

Christmas Eve, 1827

Braden leaned against the door of their bedroom, pausing to take in the peaceful scene. The gratitude that filled his heart was mingled with a joy so profound it defied words.

Samantha was propped up in bed on a mound of pillows, dressed in a warm flannel wrapper and with her hair pulled back in a soft braid. Snuggled against her side on top of the coverlet, Felicity was fast asleep, worn out from the excitement of the day.

Cradled in Samantha’s arms was John Kade, the newest addition to Clan Kendrick.

His wife glanced over, a smile lighting up her face when she saw him. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a few moments.” He walked over to join her. “You were absorbed in studying that handsome little fellow. I trust all is still in order?”

She gently patted the swaddled babe in her arms, now fast asleep. “I checked only a few minutes ago, and he’s still perfect.”

Braden caressed his son’s wee head, covered in silky black hair. Then he leaned down and brushed a kiss across Samantha’s lips. Her hand fluttered up to his cheek, resting there as she sweetly kissed him back.

“You need a shave,” she said. “You’re as bristly as a hedgehog.”

He rubbed his chin. “Not quite, but it’s been a busy day, ye ken. No time for shaving.”

After a few false starts over the last two weeks, Samantha’s contractions had begun in earnest last night. Because she’d had a relatively trouble-free pregnancy, Braden had been mostly confident she’d have a healthy delivery. Still, he was unwilling to take the slightest risk, especially given her medical history, so he’d immediately sent a note around to John. His friend had assisted hundreds of mothers in giving birth and could be relied upon to skillfully manage any complications. Thankfully, none had occurred, and Samantha had carried it off with her usual grit.

She’d even apologized to Braden for squeezing his hand so hard during a particularly intense contraction.

“Sorry,” she’d gasped as he’d blotted her damp forehead with a cloth. “But you’re the one who got me into this situation in the first place.”

John had glanced up from his position at the foot of the bed. “Feel free to give your husband a good wallop if the pain becomes too much. I find that often helps during labor.”

“No wonder the husbands stay out of the room, if that’s the sort of advice you give their wives,” Braden had joked.

“Do many husbands actually stay in the room when their wives give birth?” Samantha had asked once she caught her breath.

“No, they’re squeamish,” John had replied. “Most would faint dead away from fright.”

“Not my husband,” she’d said with more than a hint of pride. “Nothing frightens him.”

“I wouldn’t do my patients much good if I fainted at the first sight of blood,” Braden had said. “Terrible precedent to set.”

Her laugh had turned into more of a strangled yelp when another contraction started to roll over her. Braden held her hand through the worst of it, and only a few minutes later their son entered the world by setting up his own vigorous cry.

When Braden had held the babe in his arms, it had been the most astounding moment of his life. He’d felt transfused with love for the little creature in his arms and even more so for his incredible wife. All the troubles and anxieties that had led up to this—including his secret fears for Samantha’s health—had disappeared like wisps of fog on the wind. Only love remained, and the abiding sense that he’d been blessed far beyond what he deserved.

Samantha patted the coverlet. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you take off your boots and get on the bed with me. I don’t think you’ll wake the baby, or Felicity for that matter. Poor dear is worn out.”

He glanced at Felicity. “She doesn’t look very comfortable, though. She’ll end up with a crick in her neck in that position.”

“I suppose you’re right. And it is late. She should really be asleep in her own bed by now.”

Braden went around to the other side of the bed and gently shook Felicity’s arm. She opened her eyes and sat up, yawning.

Time for bed, he signed.

She gave him a nod, and then leaned over to softly kiss the top of the baby’s head before giving Samantha a hug.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Samantha said.

Felicity rolled off the bed, looking rather rumpled.

---