Cora found herself suddenly on the brink of laughing out loud — always a worrying sign, when the hysteria began to creep around the edges of her mind. She needed to focus. Be practical. Maybe this was a game or some kind of silly theatrical production — but it was hard not to take Ian’s concern seriously. Those hazel eyes of his (she could make out their color now, here, in the fire lit courtyard) were too intense, too full of a fear she recognized from countless family members when a birth wasn’t going as smoothly as it could be. No, whatever was going on here, Ian’s fear was real, and that was enough to make her midwife’s instincts kick into gear.
“Ian. I’ll need hot water, lots of it, and as many clean towels as you have. Oh — and I haven’t got my bag, obviously, but I can make do with whatever medical supplies you have for the time being. Bring them to me and I’ll see what we’re looking at.”
Ignoring the murmuring of the servants, Ian nodded — it was the same nod the guards had given him as they rode through the gate. Something a little thrilling about that. He led her to the door and through a long, winding series of hallways until she had completely lost her bearings. Finally, they emerged in what must have been the castle kitchens — they were mostly quiet, with a few servants pottering around. Cleaning up the last of the evening meal, perhaps, or even preparing breakfast? Ian strode into the room, shouting for someone to hurry up and boil some water.
Where on Earth was she? Every single voice she’d heard had Ian’s strong Scottish accent, most of them even stronger, and it was becoming less and less likely that that was a coincidence. Unless, her brain thought wildly, it was a Scottish re-enactment, so everyone was putting the accents on…but she’d never heard anyone in San Francisco put on a Scottish accent convincingly. The only real one she’d heard had been Audrina’s grandfather, whom she’d met a couple of times — there was something about those voices that was just impossible to mimic (though he’d had a good laugh listening to the girls try.)
Could she — could she be in Scotland?
Before she could process that thought fully, Ian was back, holding a large earthenware bowl that was steaming gently. He put it down heavily on a long bench, slopping a lot of it over the sides, and she tsk’d at him, crossing rapidly to survey the bowl.
“Good. Soap?”
“Don’t mind him, lassie,” a woman’s voice, full of amusement, sounded from behind her.
Cora turned. She recognized one of the servants who’d been moving around the kitchen — but this woman stood with an undeniable air of authority.
“He wouldn’t know a cake o’ soap if it bit him.” She crossed to the basin and handed Cora a rather rustic-looking piece of soap, clearly well used. “I’m Margaret, the headwoman here. You look—” she broke off. “Never mind. Remind me o’ someone. More important things to be dealt with for now.”
Cora nodded, her arms already submerged in the hot water. The soap didn’t lather the way she was used to soap lathering, but it was getting the mud and filth off, and that would do for now. With any luck, the kit would have some sterilizing equipment — even some alcohol wipes would be better than nothing.
“I hope there’s more hot water where that came from, Margaret?”
The headwoman nodded. “I’ve seen a few births, I know what’s needed. Plenty boiled and ready. Clean cloths, too.”
Cora quietly thanked God for this woman. Women like Margaret were worth their weight in gold — calm, capable, level-headed in a crisis, did what was needed and didn’t panic.
“Thank you.”
Margaret nodded and strode back into the kitchen.
Cora turned to Ian, who had been hovering awkwardly during their short conversation. “Let’s go.”
They moved quicker now, Ian clearly impatient — his long strides ate the ground almost too quickly for her to keep up without jogging. More haste, less speed, that was what she’d always been taught — there was no sense sprinting to a woman’s side to assist with the birth if you were going to be too much in a flap by the time you got there to be of any use. And with the multitudes of staircases they seemed to be climbing nonstop, it was no wonder she was out of breath by the time Ian began to slow down.
And then Cora heard it, a sound that immediately snapped her worried, wandering mind back into the professional sphere — the cry of a woman in pain. It floated through the door and seemed to curl around her, straightening her spine and narrowing her focus. Never mind where she was, never mind the people around her. There would be time later to get to the bottom of what was happening. Right now, a woman was in labor, and she needed expert help to bring her through it. This was what Cora had been put on the Earth to do.
She strode forward, leaving Ian behind — he was irrelevant now. He had nothing to do with what was about to happen. This was about the mother, now — and the primal forces of nature that were stirring in her, bringing new life to the world.
She opened the door quietly, slipped into the room as unobtrusively as possible. It would have been a shock to anyone without medical training — the white bed sheets, twisted and stained with blood and fluid. The woman thrown across the bed as though by force, head dropped back and mouth open, panting, throat exposed, dark hair drenched in sweat and matted across her head. A man beside her, tall, blond, looking absolutely lost as he held onto her hand like a lifeline, stroked her forehead again and again as though keeping her hair tidy would somehow help her. The energy in the room — dark, wild. Here were forces that men had never understood, never would understand.
But Cora wasn’t shocked by any of that. What made Cora gasp and stumble back against the door wasn’t the blood, or the mess, or the chaos of the room. What shocked Cora deep to the core of her bones was the face of the woman who lay before her on the birthing bed.
Because the woman on the bed was none other than Audrina James.
Chapter 5
“No way,” Cora gasped, despite herself, fully aware of how unprofessionally she was behaving, but just for now incapable of anything else. (She at least had the foresight not to touch the doors — she’d probably keep her hands sterile even if Jesus himself came down to visit. Midwife instinct.)
“Audrina?”
The man by the bed looked up, a look of shock on his face.
“No-one’s called my wife by that name for years,” he said slowly, his sunken blue eyes narrowing. He was even taller than Ian, Cora noticed, a little worried — broader, too, the kind of man you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with. Frightening. But then Audrina groaned, teeth gritted as another contraction shook her. He looked down and squeezed her hand tight, and the look that crossed his face — of love, of concern, of care, a desperate bravery in the face of an unshakable terror of losing his wife — banished all of Cora’s worries. This was a good man, and he loved her Audrina with all his heart. That was what that look told her, all in less than a second.
“I’m the midwife,” she told him, crossing to the foot of the bed, trying to catch his eyes, show him with all the warmth and focus in her eyes and her heart that she was there to fix this, that everything would be okay. “I’m here to help.”
“Cora,” murmured the woman on the bed, struggling upright as the contraction eased. “N-no. Way.”
That is her. She’d know that voice anywhere — softened a little with something like a Scottish accent, but that San Francisco twang never quite left you. Wherever she was, wherever she’d been brought — drugged, kidnapped, brainwashed, whatever had happened — she’d been brought to Audrina’s side. Tears standing in her eyes, she reached out tentatively to brush an errant piece of red hair out of her best friend’s face and tuck it decisively behind her ear. Audrina was staring at her as though she was trying to figure out if she was a hallucination. Maybe she was! That would explain a lot — she was just someone else’s hallucination...
“Look,” Cora said dryly, “I’ve got a couple of questions...”
Audrina snorted laughter. The man by her side made a disbel
ieving sound, but a smile had lit up his eyes for a moment. That light was snuffed out, though, as Audrina’s hand tightened on his again — she grimaced as another contraction ripped through her body. “Cora, I’ve been —” she gasped, clenching her teeth as the pain grew too strong to speak through. Not long to go, then.
“Hush.” Cora switched to her Boss Voice — the voice that sent husbands scampering and well-meaning grandmothers-to-be to the kitchen to make cups of tea. “We’ve got a few things to do before we talk about all that. How far apart are your contractions?”
“N-not far at all,” she replied as the pain eased again. “A few seconds. It’s hard to count.”
“Can I see?”
Audrina nodded, gestured downwards. She was wearing some kind of gown — enormous, made of a rough cloth and thoroughly stained with blood. Cora made a quick examination, then stood back up, directing her comments to mother and father both.
“Well, the good news is we won’t be here too much longer. The bad news is, the hard part’s coming up.”
The man’s face crumpled a little. “The hard part?”
“The best part, I always say! A big old push and a lot of yelling! Then there’s the other best part.”
“And what’s that?”
“Meeting your new babies.” She smiled, eyes alight. This was a useful skill — you took in the blood and the horror, and no matter how dire things looked, you acted as though it was the most straightforward birth you’d ever seen and the rest was going to be a walk in the park. The psychological boost it gave was invaluable — but God, it took a toll, especially when things didn’t look so great. But Cora had enough experience to ignore the gnawing tendrils of worry that were chewing on her heart. Don’t think of her as Audy, she told herself firmly. Don’t think of the long nights you spent together drinking wine on the couch, don’t think about the way she laughed, don’t think about all your rushed cafeteria lunch dates and text message chains and inside jokes. She’s just another patient, just another mother.
“Now, I’m assuming you’re Daddy?”
The man looked extremely ruffled to be called this — and Cora didn’t miss the smirk that crept across Audrina’s exhausted face.
“Yes,” he said, with some dignity, “I am the father. Maeve’s husband. Laird of Castle MacClaran. Colin, of Clan MacClaran.”
“Nice to meet you, Colin. I’m Cora. I won’t shake hands, if that’s alright. Now, Colin, I need something very important from you.”
“Anything.” He drew himself upright and seemed to grow another three feet. This was the kind of man who rode into battle, Cora sensed. Who on Earth were these people?
“There’s a woman called Margaret who works here, right? She said she had some towels and some hot water. Could you go and check with her about that?”
“Absolutely.” He rose from the half-crouch he’d taken by the bed — god he was tall! — and kissed Audrina on the forehead. “I’ll not be long, my love.”
Cora watched him close the door behind him, then turned back to Audrina with her eyebrow raised. “Ah’ll noot be loooong,” she drawled solemnly — and just as she’d hoped, Audrina couldn’t stop herself from giggling. But it wasn’t long before the giggling was arrested by a short yelp of pain — Cora hastened back to her side as the contraction strengthened.
“Alright, now he’s gone we can talk properly. You’ve got a while longer to go before you can push. There’s more blood than I’m happy about, but not enough to worry just yet. The medical supplies are on their way, a gentleman is seeing to that. Oh, and it’s the middle of the night, we’re in a fucking medieval castle and everyone is Scottish, Audrina.”
“That’s because we’re in Scotland, you daft cow,” came the response once she’d caught her breath again, and Cora couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that sentence.
“You abandoned me for two years to plan this extremely elaborate practical joke and that’s the story I’m going to stick with so I don’t lose my entire goddamn mind, Audrina.”
“Maeve.”
“Who’s Maeve?”
“Me. I’m Maeve, now.”
“Of course you are.” She took a deep breath. All a joke, all a joke, all a silly joke. Torn between laughing and crying, Cora opted to force down the maelstrom of emotion in her heart. That could be dealt with later. For now, there was a baby — two babies, if Ian was to be believed — to be brought into the world. And Mother Nature rarely had much time to wait for a midwife to get her silly thoughts in order — even if that midwife had just been dealt the single greatest curveball of all time.
Audrina — Maeve — cried out again. Cora stroked her hair.
“My love, my darling, my dearest,” she murmured. “We’ll talk about all this later. Right now, we’ve got some very important work to do.”
Chapter 6
And hard, hard work it was. Cora lost track of the outside world, as she always did in this kind of work — her whole heart was with the woman in labor, every shred of empathy extended to help her feel in control, to feel she was in safe hands, to feel not so alone in the grips of this profoundly powerful natural phenomenon. Between contractions Audrina was able to communicate that she was certain it was twins. The size of her certainly supported that theory. Audrina had always been a slender woman, and to see her the size of the side of a house was all the evidence Cora needed of a multiple birth. Besides, she always trusted women’s intuition on these things. If it felt like two babies, it was usually two babies — that was, if it wasn’t three.
Colin was almost comical in his desperation to help, and his utter helplessness in the face of what was happening. He reappeared lugging a huge bowl of hot water and almost slopped the entire thing down his front when Audrina screamed — she laughed a little and apologized as the contraction ebbed. Cora set him to work gently bathing his wife’s forehead with a damp cloth — it was more for his benefit than hers, but he set about his task with the seriousness of a surgeon. Definitely one of the good ones, Cora thought to herself. If Audrina was going to abandon her entire life to have twins with some Scottish stranger, she could have done a lot worse.
Ian reappeared at some point with an armful of strange bottles, poultices and potions — he’d placed them on a chair while making an incredibly deliberate effort not to look at any of the proceedings, then nearly crashed into the door in his haste to get out of their way. Cora almost groaned to look at the meager supplies before she recognized Audrina’s careful handwriting on some of the bottles. Her friend confirmed that they were supplies she’d been cultivating and gathering — proper, proven remedies, not just superstition — and Cora’s knowledge of herbalism did the rest. Not an alcohol wipe in sight, she grumbled to herself, but it would have to do. At least there were antiseptic tinctures, as well as some for pain relief, which the flagging Audrina was in sore need of.
Margaret, in one of her quiet entrances to the chamber with fresh cloths, pointed out a small pouch of something — “For strength and fortitude,” she said quietly.
Cora trusted the older woman’s experience.
It was several hours longer of hard labor before the crunch time came. Cora was ready, and so was Audrina — a new focus came into her eyes when Cora looked up from checking her dilation to nod solemnly.
“Do you want him back in here?” she asked quietly. Colin had been banished again by Margaret and her maids for getting underfoot.
Audrina nodded, her jaw tight and hands fisted in the bedclothes. There was still a lot of blood, and her face was pale, but Cora knew how strong her friend was. She’d need that strength.
Later, she’d look back and realize that the sun must have crested the horizon sometime during the birth of the two babies — cold gray light had been creeping into the room for some time, but as Audrina uttered one final battle cry and pushed her daughter into the world, Cora noticed the light was warmer. The babe screwed its face up against the light and screamed — Colin and Audrina both utte
red astonished laughter, stealing a quick glance at each other then gazing at their daughter.
Cora beamed, doing a quick check that the little one was more or less intact (ten fingers and toes, good enough for her) before swathing her in a soft piece of cloth and handing her to her father. He gazed down at her tiny face — and before long, Cora was holding a second one, just as perfect, just as unimpressed to be out in the cold and the light.
“He’s so loud,” Audrina mumbled. Her body was dropped across the pillows like a soldier who’d just come in from war, chest heaving as she finally caught her breath.
Cora gave her the boy — she took him with the wonder of a new mother, gathered him to her chest, heedless of the slime and blood that covered his squalling face as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Colin, surprisingly gentle for a man so large, gently placed their daughter into her other arm.
Cora smiled. “I’ll be back in just a moment,” she murmured quietly, and stepped out of the birthing chamber. Audrina would need to be cleaned up, but for the moment it was important for the new family to have a moment together.
She was surprised to find a handful people standing in the corridor, among them a tall, elegant woman in a beautiful green dress. By her side stood a young boy, perhaps nine or ten years old — a scrawny thing, big eyes and grazes on his knee. Ian was there, too — he clearly hadn’t slept — and Margaret, along with the handful of maids who had assisted with the birth.
“How’s Maeve?” Ian said anxiously. “And the bairns?”
“She’s fine,” Cora confirmed, discreetly tucking her bloodied hands out of sight. “Exhausted, but fine. Two healthy babies, a boy and a girl.”
The corridor erupted in cheers — Cora shushed them, a broad smile dancing across her face.
“Thank you so much, young woman,” said the woman in green, stepping forward. “We haven’t met. I’m Mary MacClaran, Ian’s mother and Lady of —”
Highlander Warrior: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 2) Page 3