Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball
Chapter Thirty-Two
Putting Charlotte to bed that evening was a lengthy affair. Full of excitement over her visitors and all her new presents, it took reading her new book three times and a total of five lullabies before she drifted off to sleep.
Kate huffed out a sigh of relief as she and Callum left the nursery and headed downstairs. Her stomach was steeped in nerves, though she tried her best for a semblance of normalcy between them. “I think Charlotte seemed satisfied with her birthday celebration.”
“Aye, more than satisfied,” he agreed. He set a hand on her arm, drawing her gaze toward him. “And now I’ve a surprise for ye.” A sly smile lent a mischievous air to his expression.
“It isn’t my birthday,” she said.
At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and turned to face her. “No, but it’s the day ye became the mother of my child. And I’d like to thank ye.”
The earnestness in his expression made Kate’s head spin. She couldn’t think straight, so she pretended a lightness she didn’t feel. “Do I get a ride on the pony too?” she asked in jest.
He only pressed his lips together in a smile and led her out the front door in the direction of the stables. Kate’s pulse beat an allegro tempo as Callum guided her down the aisle of stalls. He stopped in front of a beautiful blood-bay mare with a gleaming black mane. She stamped and pawed as they approached.
“I thought ye might want something a wee bit more spirited than Charlotte’s pony.”
“She’s lovely,” Kate breathed. She held out her hand, letting the horse lip her palm and become accustomed to her smell. The mare whickered, and Kate rubbed her other hand down the horse’s nose. She turned to Callum, and the mare continued her exploration, nuzzling Kate’s shoulder. “Thank you, Callum. She’s perfect.”
His mouth thinned. “She’s yours on one condition. I will be joining ye on your rides until ye know the land well enough to ride out on your own.” A glint appeared in his eyes, one that spoke of a desire to protect her. His kindness opened an ache inside her. Kindness despite the cruel words she’d spoken to him the other night. “I cannae bear the thought . . .” His words trailed off, and his expression softened.
Memories of her harrowing excursion through the storm folded her stomach in guilt. “I agree to your condition, Callum.”
Something hummed between them, thickening the air. Kate’s throat tensed. He was so heartbreakingly dear, his love so apparent. She had nothing to be afraid of. Her insides swelled with anticipation, a desire that had been growing ever since their shared kiss three nights past. The heat in Callum’s gaze did nothing to quell the tempest inside her.
They walked back to the house side by side, a quiet tension growing between them. A taut thread wrapped around them both. Kate searched for the right words but couldn’t seem to find them.
Halfway up the steps, a voice called out. “Callum!”
Ewan waved his arms, his shadow growing under the light of the lanterns outside the front door. “Da sent me. The lambing has begun, an’ he expects fer a few in the neist few hours. He said ye’d want tae ken.”
“Thank ye, Ewan, I did. I’ll not keep ye; I’m sure your father cannae spare ye. Where can we find him?”
“All ewes who are lambing have been brought intae the meadow jest west o’ the croft. Near the auld shed. Ye ken the one?”
“Aye, I ken it,” Callum confirmed. “I’ve only to change, and we’ll be on our way,” he said, bidding Ewan farewell.
Kate followed him into the house. “Are you really going? At this hour?”
He turned. “Aye. And I’m going to wake Charlotte and take her as well. I promised.”
“She just went to bed, Callum, and now you’re going to drag her—”
“I won’t have tae drag her; that I promise,” he said, smiling. “The moment I tell her what we’re doing I’ll barely be able tae keep up with her.” He turned, taking Kate by surprise. “Come with us.”
Her pulse quickened at his invitation. “But it’s late, and—”
“And what? Ye can sleep tomorrow. Tonight ye’ll watch a lamb be ‘borned’ and see the wonder of it through Charlotte’s eyes. It’s what she’s been waiting for. Come.” He held out his hand.
How badly she wanted to throw caution to the wind and say yes.
“Come,” he urged again.
She put her hand in his and went with them.
Though she’d hesitated at Callum’s invitation, Kate was glad she’d come. It was ten o’clock now, fully night. Callum held both Charlotte and the lantern, the glow of it creating an arc of light that swayed back and forth with Callum’s stride. Charlotte had woken excitedly but demanded he carry her, and it looked as though she had fallen back asleep. Kate stayed close to Callum, the terrain forbidding and unfamiliar in the dark.
She’d taken the time to exchange her gold dress to an older, more practical one of jade green. On a whim, she’d grabbed the plaid she’d worn the night before their wedding, and now she was glad for it, for the evening was cool. There was something alluring about cutting through the night, the chill air breezing through her lungs, the grass wet, a promise of the unknown somewhere in the darkness ahead. A smile tugged at her lips at the memory of Grandfather and his theory that she’d find adventure in Scotland. He’d certainly been right about that.
Across the fields came the bleating of ewes, a low, mournful sound that filled the night with an air of expectancy.
When was the last time Kate had done something so very impulsive? She’d even thought to bring her sketchpad, the opportunity to capture Charlotte’s awe and the miracle of birth too great to resist.
“Callum?” came Blair’s gravelly voice.
“Aye. And Charlotte and Katie.”
“The whole family,” Blair said, stepping into the arc of the light. “There are seven or eight out here in various stages, but I’ve one who seems tae be having a hard time that I brought into the shed. It’s her first time.”
Callum nodded. “Where can we be of use?”
“I thought to put ye in the shed, where Katie and Charlotte can stay warm. I’ll do my rounds and check on the ewes in the field, and ye can holler should ye need me.”
“This isnae my first time, ye ken. I still remember a fair amount.”
“Och, well in that case, I’ll bring ye any of the others that seem tae be havin’ trouble,” he jested.
Callum hung the lantern from a nail in the small shed and then settled Charlotte in a pile of hay. Kate sat beside her, wrapping her plaid around both of them. Charlotte’s eyes had gone round at the sight of the ewe pacing back and forth in the straw-strewn area. Callum approached the ewe, and the animal shied away. “There now, I’m here to help ye,” he said in a soft, gentle voice. The ewe sniffed at him a little before resuming her pacing and pawing.
“What is she doing, Papa?”
“She’s contracting, and she’s nervous. She’s never done this before. Have ye ever been scared tae do something, Charlotte?”
She nodded. “I was afraid to sleep in the nursery. But you laid on the floor beside me, and I felt better.”
He nodded in return. “Yes. And that’s what I’m trying tae do with the ewe here. Help her feel a wee bit better by staying close in case she needs me.” Callum came and joined the two of them in the corner. Kate felt intimately aware of Callum. His every move, every breath, every glance in her direction. She’d fought that awareness for the past few days, but now it had come back full force.
They all sat together, watching in silence as the ewe laid down, arching her neck, her body taut. Fatigue settled over Kate. How she wished to rest her head on Callum’s shoulder. But he seemed distracted, preoccupied with the ewe’s distress.
“How long?” Charlotte asked, wiggling onto his lap.
“Soon,” he whispered.
The ewe’s belly was facing them, her backside toward the wall. Callum got up, setting Charlotte on Kate’s lap as he slowly approached the ewe, bending down beside her. A white-looking sac appeared. “That’s the water bag. Her lamb is coming.”
The ewe got up again and paced before lying down again. The ewe bore down, and the sac emerged fully, dropping into the straw. And then came the signs of the coming lamb. First a nose appeared. Then two tiny hooves. Callum looked on, ready and waiting should the ewe need assistance. The ewe strained, and within a minute, the entire lamb appeared.
“Ooh!” Charlotte said, her eyes as round as biscuits. She wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t look like a lamb. Why is it slimy?”
“Shhh. Watch,” Kate whispered.
Despite her struggle, the ewe pushed herself up and immediately began to lick the little lamb. She started on the face, strong powerful licks that washed the mucus away. “This is how they bond,” Callum whispered. “If she doesnae take care of the lamb and lick it clean right away, it could die.”
“Ooh,” Charlotte said again.
After a few more minutes, the lamb was starting to look more like the fluffy little creature Charlotte had probably imagined. It struggled to its feet and then found its mother, anxious and hungry. The lamb had only suckled for a few minutes before the mother shooed it away and began pacing again. “Here comes the next one,” Callum said. He gently picked up the first lamb and brought it to Charlotte. “Would ye like to hold it?”
The smile that lit Charlotte’s face was emblazoned in Kate’s mind, one she knew she would never forget as long as she lived. Charlotte held out her arms eagerly, willingly.
“Gentle now,” Callum instructed as he placed the lamb in her arms.
“It looks like a real lamb now,” she said. The lamb turned toward her, licking her face, and she giggled with sheer delight. Callum’s face held joy as well, and Kate reached out and smoothed her hand along the lamb’s back. So soft. So fresh and new.
They stayed that way for several minutes before Kate pulled out her sketchbook and charcoal pencil, which she was glad to have brought along to capture the scene. She began to draw Charlotte, her bright eyes and chubby cheeks, the joy that lit her face, and the lamb bundled in her arms.
Bleating pierced the small shed, and Callum turned back toward the lambing ewe. “’Twould appear there’s another. Twins on her first time. Unusual.”
“Twins?” Kate’s throat seemed to close around her words. She thought she’d forgotten the panic of four years ago, but it crowded in, pinching at her airway. “Is everything all right?”
“She seems to be struggling,” Callum answered. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” he said softly, more to the ewe than to Kate. The ewe was still skittish, though her pain seemed to distract her from pushing Callum away. He examined her more closely and then looked briefly around the shed, reaching for the thin rope, more of a cord, hanging on a nail by the door.
He removed his jacket and waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves before using the water bucket in the corner to wash his hands. After shaking them dry, he got down on his knees, tying the cord in a curious loop.
“What is the rope for?” Kate asked.
“I can see the lamb’s nose but not the hooves. I’m going tae have tae reach in and loop the rope around them so the lamb won’t become trapped.” He stroked the ewe’s woolly back, trying to calm her.
Charlotte was completely wrapped up in the tiny lamb on her lap, but Kate desperately needed a distraction. She reached for her sketchbook and started drawing Callum. His entire body was attentive and alert as he read the situation minute by minute. He coiled the rope in his strong hands, his jaw flexing.
The charcoal flew across the page, capturing detail as fast as she could draw. The corded muscles in Callum’s forearms. His sweeping brows and smoky eyes. The determined set of his jaw, his untiring dedication to doing things right. To making things right between them.
Callum let out a long sigh as two hooves appeared. A few minutes later the second lamb emerged. Unbidden, a tear rolled down Kate’s cheek. The ewe paced and pawed, and Callum used a rag to clean some of the mucus from the lamb’s eyes and nose. Then he scooted back, watching, waiting. “Come on,” he coaxed the ewe in his gentle brogue. “Come see to your wee one.”
Kate wiped at her tears with the back of her hand.
After several long minutes of pacing nervously, the ewe finally approached, sniffing the little lamb, and then began to lick it. Kate released a breath of relief, the pressure in her chest easing. Once the second lamb had struggled to its feet, the ewe urged it to eat. A peaceful quiet ensued, only broken by the lamb’s muted suckling. When the lamb had finished, Callum knelt beside Charlotte, a smile etched on his face. “Here,” he said, taking the one in her arms and switching it with the other. “This one’s getting a bit jealous.”
“Can I keep one, Papa?” she asked, cradling it close to her chest.
Kate could tell it was a struggle for him to say no, but he finally shook his head. “The lambs need tae stay with their mama. Their mama feeds them and cares for them like your mama cares for ye so well. But I promise ye can visit a great deal.”
“Can I hold it more longer, then?” she pleaded.
“Of course ye can. Tonight, ye can hold the lambs as long as ye want.” He turned to Kate. “I’m sure ye’ll berate me for being much too lenient,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “To the contrary. I could not have denied her either.”
Callum stood over Charlotte, watching her, but Kate couldn’t take her eyes off Callum. He returned the first lamb to its mother, its hungry cries soon quieted. Callum removed the soiled hay, replaced it with fresh straw, and then washed his hands.
In the soft glow of the lantern, there was something mesmerizing about watching him. Though he was a marquess and soon-to-be duke, Callum was a man of the earth. A man who felt as comfortable in his uncle’s small croft as he did overseeing his father’s ducal lands. And there was something about that earthiness that appealed to her.
He would answer a call to come to a lambing in the middle of the night, dropping everything to ensure his daughter got her wish. He tended the animals as if they were his own, with precision and care. The exact same precision and care he’d shown Kate for the past months. Someone who could be depended on in any situation.
And somehow, in that moment, clarity came.
Callum was a man she could trust, a man she could open her heart to, fully. Completely. A husband who had made a grave mistake, yes, and one with real and lasting consequences, but that was not who he was. That one mistake did not define him. He was so much more than the choice he’d made that long-ago morning. He was imperfect, yes. But she could love him despite those imperfections. She did love him despite those imperfections. She loved him, all of him, wholly and unconditionally.
And she knew that he loved her. That he would love her unfailingly and never knowingly hurt her again.
She dropped her head, her gaze drifting to Charlotte, who had fallen asleep with her arms curled round the lamb. Callum brushed Charlotte’s hair back and kissed her forehead before settling beside Kate. His thigh rested against hers, and that small innocuous touch fractured her composure. Tears pricked her eyes, the unspoken admission of love swelling inside her. She looked away, trying to get hold of her emotions, for it seemed ridiculous to cry in a lambing shed.
“Katie?” he asked, voice fringed with concern.
She gathered her breath. Callum reached out, his hand grazing over the back of her neck. She stilled beneath his touch.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “Please, Katie.” The timbre of his voice rolling over her name sent a wave of shivers down her spine.
She turned toward him, impossibly exposed. “I . . . I love you, Callum.” Any further words died on her lips.
His body tensed beside her, and Kate’s heart galloped as she waited for him to speak. His brow puckered, a look of defeat settling over his features. “Katie, I’m trying, but I—I haven’t yet forgiven my father.”
“I know.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I still love you. Here and now. As you are.” She was quaking inside, her feelings so delicate, so fierce she dared not move.
Callum’s eyes—his beautiful, changeable gray eyes—grew misty. “Oh, Katie.”