Free The Laird of Stonehaven by Connie Mason

whose name was Carla, lived with her mother, Mab, and two younger brothers in a cottage in the village. Blair heard Mab’s pitiful moans before they reached the rowan tree planted at the front door to ward off evil spirits. Inside, Mab wasn’t alone. Several neighbor women and the local midwife were gathered around the bed, each trying to help Mab in her own way. Everyone fell silent when Blair entered the crowded bedchamber.
    The air inside was fetid, nearly stifling, and the first thing Blair did was to fling open the shutters.
    “Here now, what are ye doing?” a woman challenged. “I’m Gunna, the midwife, and I dinna need yer help.”
    “Aye, she
is
needed!” Carla insisted. “I brought her. Mama’s suffering has been going on for two days.”
    “Two days!” Blair gasped. “Please move aside. Mab needs my help.”
    “ ’Tis the witch,” someone murmured. Others picked up the whisper, until the small chamber was abuzz with the word. The women backed away, their expressions wary, even fearful. But the midwife refused to budge.
    “Who gave ye leave to interfere?”
    Blair saw no help for it. In order to save Mab and her unborn child, she would be forced to exert her authority. “As your laird’s wife, I need no authority save my own. Leave, all of you, except you.” She pointed to an elderly woman who appeared less judgmental than the others. “What is your name?”
    “Rona, mistress.”
    “Have you ever helped birth a bairn, Rona?”
    “Oh, aye, mistress, many times. I assist the midwife.”
    “Good. Are you willing to help me?”
    “Aye, mistress.”
    “Now see here,” Gunna said pugnaciously. “I have birthed bairns in this village since long before ye were born.”
    “I am not trying to usurp your position, but you’ve had your chance. As you can plainly see, Mab needs more help than you can provide.”
    “Let the laird’s wife help me, Gunna,” Mab said weakly. “I dinna want to lose my bairn.”
    Hissing her disapproval, Gunna stormed from the chamber, taking everyone but Rona with her.
    “Can I stay?” Carla asked.
    “Nay, child,” Blair replied kindly. “See to your young brothers. They have need of you now. Rest assured that your mother is in good hands.”
    Blair rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Since Mab appeared to be weakened by long hours of labor, Blair decided the poor woman needed something stronger to dull the pain than a stick to bite on. Rummaging in her basket, she retrieved a pouch of dried leaves.
    “Raspberry leaves,” she said, handing them to Rona. “Heat some water and brew the leaves into a strong tea. The tea will ease Mab’s labor.”
    “Can ye help me, mistress?” Mab asked, writhing in pain as another contraction contorted her body.
    Once she was alone with her patient, Blair placed her hand on Mab’s heaving stomach and closed her eyes. Immediately a picture of the bairn inside Mab formed before Blair’s eyes. The tiny girl was turned wrong and trying to present herself feet first. Blair felt a faint heartbeat vibrating through her arm to her own heart, and she smiled. The tiny mite was a fighter, but she was in deep trouble. The birth must be hurried along.
    “Close your eyes, Mab, and try to concentrate on your bairn,” Blair said in a soothing voice. “Dinna think about the pain. It will soon be gone.”
    Silently imploring the spirits to ease Mab’s suffering, Blair relied on her powers, willingly taking Mab’s pain into her own body. A jolt of pain shot up her arm, so excruciating she cried out. Then she felt Mab relax beneath her hand, and, as she knew it would, Mab’s pain passed through Blair’s body, leaving her drained.
    “What happened?” Mab asked. “The pain is gone. Oh, lady, ye are a miracle worker.”
    Rona chose that moment to return, bringing a mug of steaming tea. “Is Mab . . . is she . . . Her wailing stopped, and I feared the worst.”
    “Mab is fine,” Blair said, “but we must hurry if we are to bring a