Was there a part that bored you or that you didn't really like in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

What moment from the book you enjoyed the most? *

Something you liked, a specific scene, a character's quality, some detail that caught your eye.

Do you mind if it takes more than 4 chapters for the MCs to meet? *

• I like it. I think it works to establish them as individual characters with their own stories before combining them as a couple.
• I don't like it. The sooner they meet, the better.

Do you like it when a novel has a revenge trope? *

• I love it! It brings another layer to the narrative and it creates more possibilities for an enemies-to-lovers romance.
• Not at all. I find it a saturated trope and would like to read other stories.

Is there something else you'd like to share? *

Something you noticed, frustrated you, left you confused, etc.

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“Me laird, ye cannae go in!”

“Aye, ye will only distract-”

“Aaaaaaaahhhhh!” His wife’s scream rent the air. Duncan’s chest tore to pieces. His vision blurred and he pushed the women stopping him aside. The door was jammed open with his shoulder and he shoved his way inside. On a bed, surrounded by his mother, sister and two women, was his wife. She was covered in cold sweat, hair scattered all over the pillow. Her face was red from screaming, her eyes wide and wet. She thrashed around, yelling for death.

Duncan rushed to her. He knelt by the bed and took the hand grinding into the sheets. “It hurts! It hurts! Make it stop!” She cried. Duncan would have cried, but he needed to be strong.

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!”

Duncan bit into his mouth. “I’m going to die! I’m dying! Help me!”

Her fingernails dug into the back of hands, drawing blood. Duncan ignored the pain shooting through him. “Maither! What can be done? It has gone on fer too long!” Lady Fiona was not her usual self either. No one in the room was. Her hair had come loose, she was drowning in the same sweat.

It was the sixth hour since the first strokes of pain had begun. Lady Fiona raised the slim dress Grace wore and peered between her legs. Duncan looked at his mother, hoping this would be it.

“Be strong, child. It will be over soon.”

She looked as if she did not believe her own words. “’Tis okay, ‘tis okay…” Duncan repeated to his wife.

“It’s not!” she exploded. “Why in the hell did you get me pregnant…Ooooohhh.” Duncan asked himself that very question. Solemnly swearing silently that this would be first and last time Grace would suffer this pain. Another loud scream rippled in the room. Duncan bit his mouth deeper. He wanted to go closer to his mother, ask if this was normal. He could not afford to lose Grace.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… oh gods I’m dying!”

“Nae, nae honey. Dinnae say that.” The seventh hour came and slipped by. Lady Fiona’s frown deepened. She paced the room, sending encouraging words to Grace occasionally.

Eight.

Ninth hour.

Grace rambled unspeakable cusses, while clutching his hand. Her belly throbbed, with the child kicking it left and right. Duncan could not imagine the level of pain she was suffering. The agony made him want to rip his own skin out.

“Go, get out! I don’t want to see you.”

She shouted this repeatedly, until the women tried to show him out. She bellowed his name and asked why he wanted to abandon her. He’d not moved a step from her bed. Tenth hour. His mother smiled. There was a glimmer of hope. She nodded at Grace, “Just a little while, dear.”

His wife panted, heaving her chest up and down. “Ye ken why I called meself Jo?” she rasped on one of the mysterious breaks. When the pain seemed to disappear for several seconds. She looked at him now with a glimpse of her former self.

Duncan wanted to climb onto the bed and hold her. Only he’d been warned against it. He almost blurted that all he cared for now, was for her life and nothing more. She fostered a weak smile. “John. Me faither’s name.”

“Aye, me love. I understand.”

“He would have…” her chin trembled. “He would have been the best grandfather.”

Duncan nodded, patting her hand.

“Dae ye think Harris will make it in time?”

“He promised. He will be here.”

“Duncan, go now. Eat and rest. Ye seem tired.”

Duncan fingers seized mid-stroke. He stared at her, incredulous. “Ye’re banned from worryin’ about me n.”

“I-” her face twisted, a herald to the next bout of incoming pain. Duncan ignored their warning and got on the bed. He placed her head on his thighs, holding her hands, Duncan’s heart thundered through her screams. She wriggled on the bed as though she lay on a pile of coal and needles.

Eleventh.

Twelfth.

Thirteen hour.

From the lone window, Duncan spied rays of the sun gushing through the gaps in the curtains. “Sheena, ye should go,” Duncan told his sister. She shook her head resolutely.

“Nae.” She sat at the edge of the bed, massaging Grace’s legs, one after the other as she’d been doing for most of the night.

“He’s r-right…” Grace stammered. “Ye need rest, if nae fer yerself, fer the baby.”

Sheena rubbed her palm across the developing bump on her belly. “I’m certain he wants to be here, welcoming his cousin.”

“He?” Grace asked. Duncan took a wet cloth from a bowl beside the bed and dried her fore head gently.

“Aye, he. Me dreams come true, ye ken.”

“Please dream of his cousin coming out of me belly.”

Sheena forced a laugh because Grace had fallen silent. The telltale tremors had begun at the tips of her toes. Lady Fiona commanded, “hold her legs apart.”

One of the women and Sheena did as she’d asked. At the seventeenth hour, Lady Fiona examined Grace once more. This time, she gave a full-blown smile. She signaled the other women. Grace rasped. “Now?”

Duncan’s chest did wonderful things. His wife would not need to suffer the pains anymore and he would soon meet his child.

Duncan shifted to kneel on the floor and absolutely refused to imagine the worst. til Grace started to push. This time, his face was covered in tears. He held her hands, all sorts of encouragement sailing past his lips.

Yet, he could hardly bear to see her pain. Just when Duncan though he would lose it all, his mother popped her head up, “One more, love. Just one more.”

Grace heaved a great breath, raised her head and pushed with all her might. At first, there was only silence in the room. Slowly, his mother emerged from between Grace’s legs.

“Blanket!” she called in a shaky voice. “’Tis a boy!”

Then the small, bloody bundle in her arms wailed. “Tis a boy!” Duncan cried, hugging his wife delicately. “Ye did it, ye did it, me love. I love ye, thank ye… thank ye!”

The new parents laughed and cried together, neither remembering to hold their baby yet. It was in that moment of jubilation that his mother returned. “Okay, this one should be easier.”

Grace froze. “W-what is she sayin’”

“One more on the way, me child. Ye did well afore, dae it once more.”

Grace raised panicked eyes turned to Duncan. He tried hard not to show his fear and ultimately failed. The best he could do was hold her hand again. When she roared their second son into the world, he was there with her. His wail was instantaneous. Little arms kicking into the air, protesting the whole injustice of leaving his mother’s womb.

The birthing chamber, outside and beyond the castle erupted in thunderous cheers. The people finally let out their breath at the birth of the laird’s sons.

Duncan held his wife and waited for a few minutes. While the women cared for his wife, they brought the babies to them. One was placed in each of Grace’s arms. “Me beautiful, gorgeous wife. Thank ye, ye made two miracles fer us, they’re just… just like ye. Thank ye for holdin’ on.” he was rambling and didn’t care. His kisses landed on three cheeks, one after the other.

“Congratulations, Gracie,” Sheena cried, hugging her. Then his mother, and the other two women.

“I’m a grandmaither now…” Lady Fiona repeated, cleaning her cheeks with the back of her hands.

Duncan’s arms weighed heavier than his body. He was scared to carry the babies, he would certainly drop them. Grace, like she read his thoughts, held the one with a shocking mop of red hair up to him. Fearfully, Duncan sat and she placed him in his arms.

“Fergus, meet yer faither,” she said.

“Oh,” Lady Fiona gasped, then fresh tears of happiness poured down her cheeks. Grace lifted her second son, who had not stopped crying since he was born. Brown-haired and blue-eyed and absolutely annoyed with the world. “And you must be commander John Dankworth. Bit of a mouthful so I’ll call you, John.”

Duncan would have given her the world in that moment if she had asked for it. His heart was blooming with irrepressible joy. Duncan gingerly kissed his wife. “I love ye, Grace Hay.”

Through her sweat and tiredness, she mustered, “And I love you.” Shortly after, Duncan chased everyone from the room, including his new children, while his wife went into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The End.

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