May 1624

It was a rather quiet morning as Blake and Arguen took their breakfast in the library. Usually, his wife was a chipper little thing in the morning, but today, she busied herself reading all recently received correspondence.

He stood near the window, surveying the garden and making plans for the expansion of the house when her voice momentarily interrupted his thoughts. “Oh! We finally have word from Douglas and Malcolm!” she exclaimed.

“Oh? An’ what do they say?” he asked, turning around and looking at his wife. Arguen was absolutely deserving of the endearment “angel”, especially this far along in her pregnancy. She was due at any time this month, and she was ready. The pregnancy had been without complication so far, but there was always the birth, and both of them were quite nervous for that.

“The marriages are annulled. King James II was particularly angry,” she said, scanning the letter.

“As he should be,” Blake said, turning from the window and sitting in the chair at the table across from his wife. “An’ now we can have a real, proper wedding, with clergy an’ all. ”

“I’ll always consider the handfasting our real wedding,” she said lovingly.

“Aye, an’ so will I, but this will solidify our union in the eyes of the law. For that, I’ll be especially grateful.”

“Aye, yer right. I just–” she groaned and grimaced with a hand on her stomach.

Blake looked alarmingly at her. “Are ye well, my love? Is it time?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nay, just some pains. I think it kicked again. We’ll have a strong wee bairn at this rate,” she said, settling back down.

He smiled amorously at her. Arguen’s strength and patience was incredible to him. “Does the letter say anythin’ else?”

She scanned the parchment again. “Erm…Cataline is awaiting trial at the Old Bailey. And…ooh, Blake, this is excellent news,” she said.

“What? What is it?” he asked. Her excited tone had now made him eager to hear more.

“King James II took Cataline’s dowry and divided it. Malcolm gets half an’ ye an’ I get half. ‘Tis a sizeable fortune, is it not?”

Blake nodded, his eyes wide with amusement. “Aye. Cataline came from a wealthy family. This is most generous indeed.”

“Ye ought tae write tae the king an’ thank him,” Arguen mused.

“Aye, I will. ‘Tis the least I can do.”

At that moment, Mirellain burst in with a doll in hand. “Mama!” she cried.

“Aye, my sweet?” Arguen asked.

“Will ye come play dolls in the garden wi’ me?” she asked.

“Of course, dear. Just give me a moment tae get up.” As Arguen rose from her chair, she felt an unpleasant sensation in her nether regions, and heard a splash on the floor. Water began to soak the front of her skirts.

Both Blake and Arguen froze for a moment. They both knew what that meant.

Blake sprang into action first. “Mirellain, Mama cannae play right now. She has tae go tae bed,” he said delicately.

Mirellain frowned. “Why? ‘Tis daylight,” she pointed out.

Arguen groaned aloud. “Aye, sweet one,” she managed between breaths, “but I cannae play now. I’m about tae have yer brother or sister,” she said.

“Now?” Mirellain asked, bewildered.

“Aye, now,” Blake said firmly. “Mirellain, please go find Mrs. Kinney. Ask her tae come up here. Then tell James tae go find the midwife. Ye hear me?” he asked.

Mirellain nodded. “Aye, Papa. I’ll save Mama!” With that, she ran out of the library to go complete her tasks.

When she was gone, Blake wrapped an arm around Arguen’s back and guided her with his other one. “Can ye walk?”

Arguen made a shaky, wish-washy motion with her hand. “‘Tisnae comfortable, but I can make it tae the bed,” she said.

“‘Tis a’right, my love. Soon we’ll have another child, eh?” he said, trying to keep the mood light so she didn’t worry.

“Aye, but…” another cramp hit her, and she groaned in pain. “I just need tae make it tae bed an’ get out of these skirts,” she said, chest heaving.

When they were finally back at their chamber, Blake helped undress her until she was in nothing but her shift. She paced around the room rather clumsily until Mrs. Kinney came in.

“Oh, ye poor dear. Are ye quite ready?” she asked.

“I reckon I have not a choice,” Arguen hissed.

Mrs. Kinney immediately went into action. “Blake, fetch me some hot water and rags from the kitchen and a pitcher of wine. Hurry. There’s no time tae lose,” she barked.

Blake nodded vigorously and did as he was told.

“Wine?” Arguen asked.

“Aye,” said Mrs. Kinney, “sometimes it helps the babe ease out. And ‘tis never good tae have the father in the room. All he does is worry and make the mother even more worried. But soon the midwife will be here, and we’ll help ye, a’right?”

Arguen nodded. There wasn’t much she could say at this point–she just had to grit her teeth and get through the pain.

~~

After Blake delivered the requested items and ushered the midwife into the chamber, he found Mirellain standing outside the door, her eyes shining with tears.

“Papa, why is Mama crying?” little Mirellain asked, her pouty bottom lip quivering, as Blake scooped her up and carried her out of the house. Those big bright eyes were watering with unshed tears, and he hated to see his little girl so upset.

“Mama doesnae feel well right now,” Blake answered as best he could. How was he supposed to explain the gruesome details of childbirth to a five year old?

“Will she be better soon?”

Blake smiled ruefully. “Aye Mirellain, very soon.” He thought he had soothed her, but the little girl began sobbing into his shoulder.

“I dinnae…I dinnae wike it when Mama cries,” she blubbered. Blake stroked her blonde curls and soothed her the best he could.

“I dinnae like it either, sweet lass.”

When they were finally in the garden, he tried to deposit her on the blanket to play with her dolls, but she refused to let go. Occasionally, a scream would pierce the air from the castle. Both Blake and Mirellain would cringe at the sound, and her little hands would cling even more fervently to his shirt. He tried humming one of the lullabies he’d often heard Arguen sing to her, and surprisingly, it worked. In a few moments, Mirellain was fast asleep on his shoulder.

He would have loved nothing more than to be upstairs, supporting Arguen in whatever way possible, but he knew that fathers in the birthing room were a distraction.

“What’re ye two doin’ out here?” James asked, strolling into the garden.

“Mrs. Kinney an’ the midwife told us tae wait elsewhere,” Blake explained. Just then, another screamed pierced the air, and he grimaced.

James gave his best sympathetic look, offering his support. “She’s in good hands, lad. The midwife an’ Mrs. Kinney ken what they’re doing.”

Blake didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t know much about childbirth, but he trusted Mrs. Kinney. And Arguen’s strength…God, that woman was strong when she was under stress.

The three of them didn’t know what to say to each other. They only listened to the screams that interrupted the silence, cringing as they did so. Blake began to pace back and forth, his arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed angrily, and he looked up with concern every time he heard Arguen scream. Blake didn’t know how long this went on, but it felt like hours.

As the evening approached and darkness began to fall on the garden, the three of them decided to make their way into the library.  After a few more hours passed, they realized they weren’t hearing screams anymore. They all waited with bated breath, and suddenly, a helpless cry arose in the middle of the dark night. Blake bolted up from his chair and scurried to the door, only to be met by a smiling midwife.

“Can I see them?”

“Yes, yer lairdship. I think ye’ll be pleased,” the midwife said.

Blake bolted across the corridor, and the sight that greeted him was almost too much for him to bear.

Arguen was propped up on pillows, covered by clean sheets, holding two little white bundles in her arms. She looked so absolutely worn out. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Still, her eyes brightened at seeing her husband.

“My love,” she whispered, beckoning him to her bedside. “We have a daughter and a son,” she said, beaming through her exhaustion.

He approached her timidly, as if he were afraid that one little sound would upset the peaceful scene. He looked upon the bundles—twins, it would seem–and held his breath. Their eyes were closed, and their little rosebud mouths were slightly open as they slept. From what he could tell, one had his dark hair, and the other had her fair hair.

“Do ye want tae hold them?” she asked, looking up into her husband’s warm dark eyes.

He nodded vigorously, unsure of what to say in this moment. All words had escaped him.

He sat in a chair directly beside the bed, and the midwife helped place both babes in his arms.

The little bundles stirred at the change of position. He did his best not to move, and gazed lovingly down at the little babes. One infant grasped onto his finger as she stirred and refused to let go. A tear of pride slid down his stubbly cheek at the sensation, and suddenly, he was crying.

“Blake, are ye crying?” Arguen asked, her voice still weak. She was also on the verge of tears.

“I…they’re beautiful,” was all he managed. His wife laughed lightly as he turned to look at her, a helpless smile on his tear-strewn face.  After a few minutes of crying together, Blake finally regained composure. The infant let go of his finger, and the midwife returned the babes back to Arguen’s arms.

“What shall we call them?”

Arguen paused and cocked her head, looking down at her babies. “Something regal. Something beautiful. I’ve always liked Isobel and Iain,” she whispered. “My babes,” she breathed, kissing the infants on their foreheads.

Blake nodded, and wiped away a stray tear. “Welcome, Isobel an’ Iain Mawr,” he said, his voice breaking again.

At that moment, Mrs. Kinney brought in Mirellain, who approached the bed with trepidation.

“Can I hold?” Mirellain asked, crawling onto the bed.

“When they’ve had some rest, ye can hold them,” Arguen answered.

Mirellain stuck out her pouty bottom lip. “Can I sing a lullaby?” she asked, her chubby little face brightening at the prospect.

“Softly,” Arguen acquiesced.

The little girl began to sing the very same lullaby that Blake had hummed to her in the garden.

Blake settled in a chair by the hearth with his son, gently rocking back and forth as he gazed down at his tiny little nose and lips. Iain was resembling Arguen so far, with what seemed to be her fair hair.

His gaze turned to his wife and daughters as he sat. Mirellain was curled up under the blankets next to her mother, while Arguen held their new daughter. She stroked their hair and kissed their foreheads. She caught Blake’s gaze and mouthed, “I love you,” to him. A wide grin split his face. He was so proud of his beautiful, happy family.

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