Lady of Two Lairds

Prologue Glenparry, Scottish Highlands, July, 1913 “Leda, don’t leave me.” Leda picked up Caitlynn’s hand from the sheets and gazed down at the young woman in the bed. Cait’s blue eyes were wild with pain. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and upper lip. With surprising strength, Caitlynn gripped Leda’s fingers in her own. “Of course I won’t leave you, Caity.” Leda’s gut felt like a cloth being wrung by iron hands. She forced a reassuring smile while fighting down a wave of nausea. “But I must check you.” Caitlynn’s heaving breaths filled the bedchamber. The air weighed heavily around them, potent with the scent of blood. Outside, the summer storm pounded at the windowpanes, lashing rain in torrential streaks against the glass. Leda looked up at the maid. “Audrey, please go watch for Dr. Burns.” “Yes, miss.” The young woman rushed out. Leda looked at Duncan, who remained standing in the doorway, watching his wife, even though she had advised him repeatedly to wait downstairs. She almost asked him again, wishing to spare him the agony of the scene before him. He met her gaze, his dark brows drawn together. “I’m not going,” he said, as if reading her mind. Leda nodded and put her attention back on Cait. Gently releasing Cait’s hand, Leda pulled back the linen sheets and goose down comforter and frowned. The sheets and nightgown had been changed less than two hours previously and already needed changing again. Although her labor had begun the day before, Cait was not nearly dilated enough. Leda knew the woman couldn’t go on much longer this way, but could not, in her heart, hope for anything except a healthy birth. She wanted to save them so badly. She loved Caitlynn. And she loved Duncan. She would have done anything to help him, the guardian who had given her a life when she’d had none. She couldn’t bear for him to lose his wife and unborn child, especially when he’d already suffered so much, having fought in South Africa. He deserved to have his joy. “How is she?” Duncan’s deep voice carried in a tight whisper across the shadowy room. Leda looked over her shoulder at the laird, handsomely dark and brooding, as somber in appearance now as he always was. “I don’t know yet, Duncan. I’m sorry.” She looked back down at the suffering woman. Remaining calm was everything if she were to remember all her training. Her mother had trained her in midwifery, and something her mum had often told her now rang loudly in her mind. No matter how much you do for the birthing mother, in the end she’s in God’s hands. Caitlynn turned her head on the pillow and looked at him. “Duncan,” she breathed. Duncan rushed into the room and knelt by his wife’s side. He took her hand just as a contraction gripped her body. “It hurts, Duncan…” Cait arched her body with an obviously painful contraction and let out a mangled wail. “Dammit, Leda. Do something!” he growled. Leda fought her rising panic. The sweat on her own body beaded like droplets of ice. “I need to change her sheets and gown.” The knowledge that Caitlynn might die seemed to fill the bedchamber with poisonous certainty. “When the doctor gets here…” “You are the doctor now.” Leda nodded, pushing back her tears. No amount of training had truly prepared her for this kind of agony. She reached for the pile of fresh linens and approached the bed. Duncan pressed his lips into Caitlynn’s hand. “Fight, my love,” he whispered fiercely. Caitlynn heaved labored breaths. “I…I…will.” She inhaled heavily several more times before Leda saw her pull his hand closer to her. “Promise me ...” He sank down, leaning over her. “Promise you what, love?” Caitlynn’s chest heaved and she swallowed hard. “Promise that whatever happens, you won’t blame Leda. She’s done all she could—” Another contraction caused her to swallow her words. Duncan kissed her hand again and wiped a gentle palm across her forehead. His tortured expression tore her open inside. Leda understood the glaze of helplessness over his eyes and wished she could trade her own life for Cait’s. “You can stay here with her,” she told him softly. “Let her squeeze your hand.” The contractions were too close together now. There was no time to change the bedding. She set down the linens and gently bunched Caitlynn’s nightgown up to her waist. Caitlynn’s moans sang viciously in her own ears and her heart thundered. Thankfully, her mother’s words also rang in her mind. Dive into your heart, Leda, she always told her. Rest there and do what is needed. Leda wet a cloth in the basin and tenderly swabbed the perspiration off Caitlynn’s face and neck. She smoothed a comforting hand over the swell of the woman’s belly. The movement inside was faint. “Caitlynn, when I say ‘ready,’ you need to push, as hard as you can. Can you do that?” Caitlynn nodded against the pillow. Tendrils of her hair lay plastered to her pale cheeks. Her hand clenched Duncan’s large, strong one. His other hand rested on her golden hair, darkened with sweat. “All right, Caity, push!” Caitlynn did as she was told, releasing a loud, strangled wail, her cries melting into the sound of torrential rain pelting the tall windows of the bedroom. For nearly an hour, they repeated this process. Leda tried to ignore the frightening amount of blood seeping onto the sheets. She could not imagine a person, especially one as slender and petite as Caitlynn, losing this much blood and surviving. Leda remained crouched at Cait’s feet, encouraging her to push. Finally, as the first hint of dawn lit the sky from ink to gray and the storm abated, the bairn’s head showed. Caitlynn, however, had hemorrhaged so severely, she had no strength left to push. Leda slipped her fingers around the bairn’s head, gently easing it along. After what seemed an eternity, the entire head emerged. Leda suppressed a gasp at the grayish blue appearance of the child’s scalp. “You’re almost there, Caity,” she whispered, grateful that Cait’s nightgown shielded her and Duncan’s view. Another hour later, the bairn slipped out of Caitlynn’s womb, lifeless, the umbilical chord wrapped tightly around its neck. Leda’s own strength drained rapidly, from both exhaustion and helplessness. Every muscle in her body ached fiercely, including her heart. She felt Caitlynn’s grip on her hand weaken, until the delicate fingers slipped from hers and came to rest on the bedding. “Caitlynn!” Duncan whispered, kneading Caitlynn’s other hand, furiously stroking her forehead. “Caitlynn!” His gaze shot up, his dark eyes fierce. “Save her!” he cried in an agonized whisper. Hot tears rolled down Leda’s cheeks. She spent the next few hours spooning comfrey tea into Cait’s mouth and helping Audrey change the sheets, but she already knew it was too late. Cait had lost too much blood and her pulse weakened with each passing moment. Dr. Burns finally arrived and did what he could to stop the bleeding, but soon looked up from where he bent over Cait and shook his head solemnly. When the doctor left, Duncan remained with his wife’s body. Leda sagged against the doorframe, watching them through a blur of tears. He must have felt her presence for he turned around. In the next moment, his expression hardened. He met her gaze for another second, then turned back to Cait. Bile rose in Leda’s gut. She clutched the doorpost for support as the last bit of strength drained from her. She had read everything he felt in his expression. His silent blame seared her to her core. She had lost Caitlynn, her beloved friend. She had failed Duncan. She would never forgive herself. Duncan would never forgive her.