A Mackenzie Family Christmas: The Perfect Gift(37)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

A maid was there with blankets, Beth standing with fingers steepled against her lips, the midwife frowning in concentration.

Eleanor gave one final, agonized heave, and the midwife cried out in triumph.

She bent over the blanket the maid held, and after a long, breath-stopping moment, the first shrieks–loud and angry–of a new Mackenzie rang out.

"Welcome to the world, your lordship," the midwife said.

She lifted the blanket, the baby glistening and red, still attached at his tummy to his mother. A sheaf of dark hair sprouted from his head, his tiny face screwed up, and he roared.

Hart sat up, tears blurring the wondrous sight. He touched a broad finger to his child’s face.

"He’s beautiful," Hart whispered. "El, he’s beautiful."

Eleanor was laughing, tears spilling down her face. She reached for her baby, and the midwife gently put him into her arms.

"We’ll get him all cleaned up and fed for you, Your Grace."

"In a moment," El said, her voice weak but rapt. "In a moment."

Hart kissed Eleanor’s forehead and drew her close, his fingertips resting gently on his son, his hand almost as large as the lad’s little body. The baby waved his fists, his cries announcing to the world that he’d arrived, and he was hungry.

Hart wanted to break down and weep; he wanted this moment to never end.

El touched the boy’s cheek. "Hello, Alec." She smiled at him then slanted a sly look at Hart. "A wee little lad. I told you."

"I’ll never doubt you again," Hart said. Then his tears came, and he didn’t bother to stop them.

*** *** ***

"How’s the family, then?" Isabella entered the room an hour later, bringing in the family that had been kept out. Ian watched them from the sofa across the room, where he sat with Beth.

Mac came behind Isabella, then Ainsley and Cam, Eleanor’s father, and Daniel, and with them the Mackenzie children. Ian rose to take Belle from Daniel’s arms. He kissed his daughter, remembering every detail of his worry the night Beth had brought her into the world, and before that, when Jamie had come. Hart had just gone through the same ordeal.

Hart sat on the bed, his back against the headboard, his arm around Eleanor. The midwife had finished the rest of the birthing and washed the child, and the wet nurse had given him his first meal. Ian and Hart had been persuaded to step outside for the procedures, and once he’d walked out of the room, Hart’s legs had buckled, and he’d nearly fallen to the floor.

Ian had caught him, holding his older brother upright in his arms, until Hart had regained his strength.

Darkness still prevailed outside, but bonfires broke the blackness, the villagers getting started on the Hogmanay celebrations. Inside Hart and Eleanor’s bedchamber, all the lamps glowed, and the fire burned high, lighting up the scene.

"Hart Alec Graham Mackenzie," Eleanor’s father, Alec Ramsay, was saying. He tickled the baby’s cheek. "What a splendid name for a splendid little fellow."

They’d call him Alec in the family, Hart had said, in honor of Eleanor’s father. Small Alec was now dozing in his mother’s arms, breathing well, proclaimed healthy and strong by the midwife and the doctor who’d visited after the messiest bit was finished.

Hart looked as though someone had kicked him repeatedly. Exhaustion stained his face, his eyes red-rimmed, but his smile was strong and as arrogant as ever, as though he’d just done something uncommonly clever.

Ian’s brothers shared Hart’s pride, holding up their own children so they could greet their new cousin.

"He’s very small," Jamie informed Ian. "He won’t be able to ride his pony."

"He’ll grow." Beth rumpled her son’s hair. "In a few years, you’ll be racing him."

Jamie looked doubtful. "He’s even smaller than Belle."

"Not for long, I wager," Daniel said in his deep voice. "Mackenzie men grow tall." He pressed a fist to his chest and laughed down at Jamie.

Bellamy and Curry carried in trays of wine, whiskey, and champagne. Hart grabbed a glass and drank heavily, this time keeping it down.

The others raised glasses in a toast. "To the newest addition to the family," Mac said. "God help him."

"He’s our First Footer," Isabella said, lifting her champagne glass. "The first into the house for the New Year."

"To the First Footer!" Mac and Daniel shouted. Glasses clinked, and champagne disappeared.

"You’ve lost your bet, Uncle Hart," Daniel said. "Forty guineas you owe me, I think."

"Hart, you rogue," Eleanor exclaimed. "You told me you didn’t think it was proper to wager on your own child."

Hart shrugged. "I thought I had a good chance. I’ll make good on my bet."

"Well, I’ve won quite a packet. Haven’t I, Danny?"

"Ye have, Auntie. As have I. I always trust the mother."

"Mother." Eleanor held Alec close. "That sounds nice. And here is Papa."

She handed the baby to Hart. Hart took him, his expression softening to wonder, everything hard in him suddenly gone.

The others raised glasses once more. Ian put his arm around Beth and sank into her warmth, hefting his daughter in one arm, while his son sat happily in his mother’s. This time next year, their little family would be larger, and Ian’s happiness would expand yet again.

"They change you," Ian said to Hart. "We’re not the same now."

"Bloody good thing," Cameron rumbled.

"Aye," Hart said. He leaned to his wife. "Thank you, El, for saving my life."

Eleanor winked at Ian as she leaned to kiss Hart’s lips. "You are most welcome, love."

*** *** ***

"Do you feel you’ve changed that much?" Beth asked Ian much later.

The day was starting, the Hogmanay celebrations would commence soon, but Ian and Beth lay in their bedchamber, entwined and bare, the covers keeping them from the cold world.

Jamie and Belle had been taken back to the nursery for their breakfasts, both chattering about Alec and New Year’s, and the unusual excitement in the house. Nanny Westlock had taken charge, and Ian had led Beth, exhausted though she wouldn’t admit it, back to bed.

Ian had gathered Beth into his arms, and they’d celebrated with passionate, warm, lovemaking. Ian’s desire and love tangled inside him, blotting out all that was terrible and brutal in the world. Now, he trailed open-mouthed kisses down Beth’s body, loving her softness.

"Ian?" Beth prompted, her voice low and sleep-filled.

Instead of answering, Ian reached into the drawer in the bedside table and pulled out the tissue-wrapped package he’d been saving to give Beth for Hogmanay. He laid it on her bare chest and pressed a kiss to her breast.