A Nighean Ruadh

Toil and Trouble

Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:

- mo chreach (moh kreyk) - my god

- Mo chuisle (moh hoosh-leh) - my blood (familial)

- Mac na ghalla (mahk nah gah-lah) - son of a bitch

- Ist, mo ghràidh (isht moh grye) - hush, my darling

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10 September, 1743

Castle Leoch, Highlands, Scotland

I puttered about frequently in either my surgery or the gardens of Castle Leoch as I got used to daily life in the eighteenth century. With every day that passed, my womb grew, and with it, the bairn within me. When I hit four months in August, I started swelling up to a larger size than I ought to have been at four months and began to wonder if I carried more than one. Twins, evidently, ran in the family - my mother and Uncle Anndra were twins, and my father had a twin brother, too, who died in infancy. Cailean and Calum were twins, so it did not surprise me but if I were to be having twins. Of course, I couldn't diagnose this myself without a stethoscope, so I would prepare myself to expect it on the day this bairn, or bairns, would arrive.

Jamie was a very attentive father-to-be, making sure that I did not overwork myself or lift anything too heavy, making sure that I got plenty to eat and got plenty of rest. At night, he would massage my shoulders, rub my back, rub oil of rosehip and lavender on my skin and massage my feet, and when I asked, would make love to me for as long as I needed. If I stayed out too late, he scolded me, and though it irritated me in the moment, I was touched at his attentiveness. He was already so excited to be a father, and we still had a little over four months yet.

One morning, Jamie and I lay in bed, naked, I in Jamie's arms and his hand resting on my stomach. "He's growing big, isnae he?" Jamie asked me, and I chuckled gently.

"Aye, it is," I said. "Or they."

"They?" Jamie asked. "As in, more than one? Is it possible?"

"Twins? Aye, my family's evidently full of them," I told him. Jamie's eyes widened suddenly and he looked at his hand, finding my skin moving ever so slightly beneath his hand.

" Mo chreach! Was that the bairn?" he exclaimed with alarm.

"It was," I said. "The weeun's been doin' it a lot lately. The bigger it gets, the more active it becomes."

"Can he hear me?" Jamie asked, and I nodded.

"It should, now," I answered, and Jamie sat up to lower his lips to my skin, kissing my growing womb.

" Mo chuisle ... wee'un... It's yer father. I cannae wait te meet ye," he said to the bairn, and I felt it kick in response to his voice and smiled.

"He heard ye," I said. A knock suddenly sounded at the door, making Jamie jump, and he quickly yanked the bedsheets to cover me when the door shot open and Murtagh walked in.

"He's back! MacDonald is back," he announced, then took in the sight before him. "Oh, sorry, Mistress."

"Yer makin' a habit of this, aren't ye, Murtagh?" I asked him, and he flushed a little pink before looking at Jamie. "A date has been set for the duel."

"When?" Jamie asked him.

"This Friday," Murtagh replied.

"The thirteenth? Why, that's quite an unlucky day," Jamie said. He must have felt me grip his arm, for he looked down at me and kissed my head. "Dinnae fash, mo chridhe , it'll be all right. Ye willnae lose me."