The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) (46 page)

“You’re prejudicious, Dad, but thanks.” All of a sudden, she stiffened and gasped.

“What’s the matter?” Cullen asked.

“Something popped.” Her eyes were wide with concern.

Alarm burned straight through him, but he knew, if he did nothing else, he had to be a calming influence. He blew a cool breath over the hot coals smoldering in his gut.

“
Oh, my.
” She looked down. His gaze followed hers. Between her feet was a small puddle on the hardwood floor.

He leaned in close and whispered, “Did ye wet yourself, lass?”

She shook her head. “I think my water broke.”

The rush of panic returned. Cullen swiveled to face Donald. “Page 242 explains the bag of waters. I need the manual.”

Donald slammed shut the book on horse breeding. “I don’t have it.”

Cullen didn’t trust his memory, especially now, not with his heart reverberating inside his ears like the stampeding herd of buffalo at South Pass. “You had it last.”

Donald pointed at Braham, who had just appeared at the top of the stairs. “He took it and said he would give it to you.”

“What?” Braham clutched his chest and slumped against the railing. “I swear, I don’t have it. I’ve been deemed untrustworthy.”

Cullen plucked at the skin under his chin with his thumb and index finger. “I must have put it back inside Kit’s armoire.”

Kit stopped taking a measure of the size of the puddle. “What book are you talking about?”

“Your birthing manual,
The Complete Book of Pregnancy and Childbirth.
”

“You’ve read it?”

“We’ve all read it,” Braham said, walking down the stairs. “But Cullen’s the expert. He taught us everything we need to know in case of an emergency.”

“What does Cullen know about birthing babies? He’s a lawyer not a doctor.”

Cullen glanced at her sideways “You can ask me. I’m standing beside ye, lass.”

Donald slapped Cullen between his shoulder blades. “We even watched a birthing on itube on the uPod contraption.”

“What?” Kit rubbed her temples. “Did somebody drop me into a really bad sit-com?”

”Enough of this.” Cullen scooped her into his arms. “Braham, find Sukey. I’ll take Kit to bed. I mean…I’ll take her to our room.”

Braham vaulted the newel post and ran toward the kitchen. “
Sukey
!”

Cullen took the stairs two at time.

“What can I do?” Donald asked.

Cullen yelled over his shoulder. “Get the list and find that book.”

Kit wiggled in his arms. “What list?”

“Important reminders. Get flowers, chill the champagne, and make sure your iPod is charged.”

“If you know what’s on the list, why tell Dad to get it?”

“So he’ll have an assignment.”

She laughed, but her beautiful green eyes held a tense, focused look.

Cullen carried her to their room. “I’ve ne’er carried ye across a threshold.”

“We could use some good luck. Take me out, and let’s do it again.”

Donald charged up the back stairs. His boots clicked on the wood treads. He followed them into the bedroom, huffing. “I brought Kit a cup of raspberry tea and set the champagne in the ice bucket.

“One bottle or two?”

“Four,” Donald said.

Cullen laid Kit on the bed, and she hugged her belly “I get tea while y’all drink champagne?”

“It’s for afterwards, and ye can have a wee sip.”

Sukey barged in, carrying a stack of towels. “I knew that babe gone a come today.” She dropped the towels on the washstand and turned to leave. “Men don’t belong in a birthing room. If you gone a come in here, stay out of my way, and don’t hold your breath cause I ain’t got time to pick you up off the floor.”

“What a dear lady.” Kit massaged her temples. “Sit down, both of you.” She patted the blue counterpane on both sides of her. Cullen sat on one side, her father on the other. “I’m so glad you’re here with us, Dad.”

Donald squeeze her hand. “When you were born, your mother didn’t want me anywhere near, not even inside the house. She didn’t think I could handle her pain, but I could. I’d seen her sick most of her life.” He gave a world-weary sigh. “I’ve never told anyone, but I spent eighteen hours on the roof over her room that day. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I listened to every moan, grunt, and scream. I even tried to dig through the thatch to look at her face, but it was too thick, and I didn’t dare leave to get a digging tool. Then, I heard your first cry, and I wept. I imagined I was holding you and holding her. Except for your mother’s voice, your cry was the most beautiful sound in the world.”

“I wish I had known her.”

“From what you’ve told me about Mary Spencer and your friend, Sarah, there is a similar generous spirit and sustaining faith. I’ve never loved another woman, Kit, and I’ve never held another baby.”

“Cullen and I would like you to help bring Baby Thomas into the world?”

“Stay in here with you?” Cullen offered him a nod. The corners of Donald’s eyes tightened around a shimmer of tears. He gazed at Kit, a slight smile curling his lips. “I’m pleased you asked, but this is Cullen’s time, not mine. I’ll be right outside the door.”

CULLEN CHECKED HIS watch—six o’clock. Kit had been laboring for ten hours. His heart swelled with pride for his wife’s stamina to persevere through hours of painful contractions. He’d watched the agony etch across her face and would have done anything to make it stop. He would never ask her to go through this again, even if it meant never making love with her again. Why did pain come with something so extraordinary?

He’d heard birthing stories before. And his opinion had always been that birthing was women’s work and that’s what God made them to do. Now, watching the process, he became fully aware of the sacrifice, and more particularly, Kit’s sacrifice.

At the Kansas River, he’d asked her why she’d risked her life for a child she didn’t know. She’d said it was worth it. Now he understood. Was it possible to love her more than he did at that moment?

Kit swatted at his hand when he tried to wash her face. She yelled, “
Get out
.”

He jumped out of the way, his heart racing. Dear God, what had he done wrong?

“Don’t pay no mind to what a birthing woman say, Mister Cullen. She just want that baby out. Not you.”

“Ye sure, Sukey?”

“Miss Kit would a done the same to me. She don’t mean it.”

“Kit groaned with another contraction. She grabbed his wrist and dug in her nails, drawing blood. “I’ll
never
do this again.”

“That’s the birthing talking too, Mister Cullen. She’ll want you in her bed soon enough.”

Maybe, but he wasn’t willing to risk her life again.

AT EIGHT-THIRTY, Kit pushed one last time and Thomas Cullen Montgomery slipped into the world. Cullen held his breath until his son drew his first. “We have a son, lass.” The declaration was the most powerful statement he’d ever made in his life, except for his profession of love to Kit. When Thomas cried, shivers of joy coursed through Cullen’s body. He’d thought Kit’s iPod held the angelic vocals of heaven, but he was wrong. His son’s cry was the purest sound he’d ever heard.

Kit’s head dropped on the pillow, and she let out a long sigh of relief. “Hold him up. Let me see him.”

Cullen clasped the scissors, his chest tightening with the magnitude of his responsibility. “I’m cutting the cord. He’s a wee babe and so perfectly made.” He’d often thought while looking at Kit naked beneath him that his love was complete. He had no comprehension of how expansive love could be, until now. A wave of throbbing heat filled him. His hands shook as he placed the babe in his wife’s arms.

Kit cried when she wrapped her hands around their baby. “Ah. He’s so beautiful. He looks just like you.”

“Nae. He has his mother’s eyes. But I’ll claim the rest of him

Donald stuck his head inside the room. “I heard him cry.”

“Come in and see your grandson,” Cullen said.

Donald stepped over to the bed and gazed at the child. “He is beautiful.”

“Here, Daddy, you can hold him.”

Donald took the babe from her. “You’ve given me more than the gift of a grandson.” His voice hitched. “You’ve brought meaning and purpose back to my life.” He returned the baby, kissed Kit on the top of her head, then left to share the news.

Sukey followed Donald from the room. Kit put Thomas to her breast, and he latched on as if he’d been nursing for months.

Cullen stroked his son’s cheek and felt his face muscles sucking his mother’s nipple. “How does he know how to do that already?”

Kit moaned softly. “Most babies have trouble at the beginning.”

“I guess he’s been watching me.” His fingers meandered across the landscape of her breasts. “I suppose I’ll have to share you for a while.”

Humor crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Can you handle that?”

“I don’t know. I’m rather possessive about ye.”

“I’ve noticed, but you don’t mind sharing me with Daddy. Why’s that?”

Cullen looked out the window. Clouds swam across the moon’s surface, blocking the light in the chilly March evening. For some reason, he remembered how cold the water had been when he fell into the Deschutes. He remembered the darkness and hearing Kristen’s voice.
His sister was there
. He shook away the pain and tucked the memory into his heart.

“I know the anguish of losing ye. Yer father and I have that in common. Creates a bond between us, stronger than what Braham and I have. I’ll never deny Donald McCabe his rightful share of yer love.”

Threading his fingers underneath her hair to cradle her head, he gave her a long lingering kiss on her lips, showering her with his complete and absolute devotion. Her warm mouth was inviting, and he knew he’d want to have her as soon as she healed. He just hoped she’d want him too. “What can I ever give ye that could mean as much as this wee one?”

She gazed at her suckling baby, and then presented Cullen with a gorgeous smile, her lips slightly puckered. “A daughter.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

KIT FORGED A path around the packed trunks stacked in her bedroom. Her pink-cheeked son was lying peacefully on his back asleep in his cradle. She laid a gentle hand on his tummy. The rise and fall of his chest satisfied her constant worry that he had stopped breathing. He squirmed and made funny gurgling sounds.

Where had three months gone? Someone had held him twenty-four hours a day for the first two weeks. Usually, his father or grandfather, but his uncle, cousin, and godfather, Henry, took their turns. By the third week, Braham and Henry demanded the majority of the time. They were heading back to California and wouldn’t get to hold him for several months. After they departed for San Francisco, Baby Thomas spent every waking moment, unless he was eating, with either Cullen or Donald.

Cullen walked into the bedroom. “I think Thomas is awake. I’m going to the barn and thought he’d like to go. Sean’s having a new stallion delivered.” He picked up the baby, wrapped him in a blanket, kissed Kit, then they were gone.

She glanced at her watch.
I’ll give you fifteen minutes.

The sun broke out from behind a rain cloud and a stream of light flickered into her bedroom. The room where she’d stacked her trophies, tossed her schoolbooks, and spent rainy-day on the window seat playing her guitar. After this visit, she might not ever return to the mansion and sleep in her bedroom. Of all the things she’d once imagined doing in her bed, none of them involved birthing a baby.

Cullen had promised he’d build her a house exactly like MacKlenna Mansion, but she was ready for something new. Something built for them to start their own tradition. Montgomery Winery Villa had a nice ring about it.

Although Sean had begged them to stay, the Montgomerys and Donald planned to leave for San Francisco in the morning. The farm was her uncle’s inheritance, not hers, and that was as it should be. Her grandfather provided for her in his will. With her own gold and diamonds, Cullen’s wealth, her father’s fortune, and now her inheritance, she had more than enough to start her vineyard and couldn’t wait to hear about Henry’s scouting adventure to the Napa Valley, and whether he’d convinced the Barretts to join them in the venture.

Sean knocked on her open door.

“Come in.”

He glanced at the empty cradle, scrunching his face.

Kit chuckled. “Cullen took him to the barn. He said you had a new stallion being delivered.”

“Oh, well. Do ye have everything ye need?”

“More than we need. If we weren’t sailing on one of Daddy’s ships, I don’t think I’d be allowed to carry this much on board.”

“Good because there is more for ye to take.”

Kit glanced around the room. “More?”

“I’m having all of yer mother’s paintings crated. Jamilyn would want ye to take them.”

Kit shook her head. “I can’t—”

“The decision’s made. Besides, didn’t ye tell me none of the paintings were in the house when ye were growing up?”

“You should keep the Eilean Donan.”

He glanced away, and she sensed he was reconsidering. “That painting was inspired by yer mother’s love for ye. If ye took only one painting, that would be the one.”

He kissed her. “I’m off to the barn.”

“Hey, wait a minute. You didn’t tell me about your new stallion. Where’d you get him? How old is he?”

A frown line appeared between his eyebrows. “Lexington, I think.” He cleared his throat. “Or Versailles or Paris, I don’t remember. I have to go.” Her stuttering, red-faced uncle hurried from the room.

She followed him into the hallway. “Uncle Sean, what’s going on?”

He turned, but his gaze didn’t meet hers. “Nothing a’tall. I’m late.”

Why wouldn’t he tell her about his new stallion? She knew every horse in his stable. Then she gasped with delight. “Cullen bought me a horse, didn’t he?”

Sean wore the dejected face of man who lost a bet. “Don’t ask me to ruin his surprise.”