brow. “Funny, but I’ve known the woman me whole life and was never blessed with seein’ her goodside.”
The more Symon cried, the more his father looked like a tortured prisoner of war. There were times, like now, when she found that she would trade her childless life for sleepless nights and crying babes, no matter how exhausting it might be.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she went to her brother. “Give him to me and ye go join yer wife,” she said as she held out her arms. Collin was all too eager to hand his howling child over.
“Are ye certain?” he asked as he hurried toward the stairs.
Fiona rolled her eyes and lifted the child up to rest him against her shoulder. “Aye, I am,” she told him as she began rocking back and forth from one foot to the other.
Collin looked positively relieved and headed up the stairs. Fiona called out after him. “And sleep with yer wife, Collin! Do no’ go makin’ any more babes!”
Fiona doubted she would have heard any response he may have had over Symon’s screams. She pulled him away to look at his wee face. Cherubic cheeks were covered in tears and blended with the drool rolling down his chin. He thrust his hands into his mouth and began to gnaw on his own little fingers.
“Spoiled, me foot,” Fiona said before kissing the top of his wee, bald head. “I may no’ have been blessed with me a child of me own, but I ken one who is teethin’ when I see him.”
Rubbing his back gently, Fiona walked to the end of the gathering room, up the three steps that led to the dais. An old and worn sideboard sat against the wall behind the table where she and her brothers sat for their meals. Flagons of wine and jugs of fine McPherson whisky were kept on the sideboard.
Putting Symon into one arm, Fiona opened a jug with one hand and dipped her finger into the whisky. Shaking off the excess, she began to massage Symon’s gums. Immediately, he began to chew on her finger. She could feel the little razor-sharp tooth just beginning to poke through his gum. Quickly, she removed her finger, lest it be sliced by her nephew, and gave him the hem of her apron to chew on instead.
“Between ye and me, wee one, yer grandminny Delfina is as mean as a rabid bear. She kens full well ye be teethin’, but she wants yer mum to suffer. The auld woman is still upset that her sweet Mairi married yer da.”
Symon continued to gnaw and hiccup, but his crying began to decrease. He looked up at Fiona as if he understood every word she said.
“That’s right, little one. For reasons I could never fathom, the auld bat hates yer da. Do no’ tell anyone, but I think it is because she is jealous. Her own husband, may he be rottin’ in hell right now, was a cruel bastard. Delfina be jealous because yer mum is so happy. And yer mum is happy because of yer da.”
The babe was still uncomfortable, but at least he was no longer screaming loud enough to wake the dead.
“Now, yer grandminny hates me because I married James McPherson.”
While Delfina would never admit to such, Fiona knew the truth. The woman had been trying to get a marriage made between her daughter and James almost since the day Mairi was born. Even if Delfina could have managed such an arrangement, Fiona doubted even that would have put a smile on the woman’s face.
Collin and Mairi made each other happy and that was enough to make Delfina hate every one of the McCrays.
Fiona left the dais, continuing to rock the babe in her arms. Speaking to him in soft, soothing tones, she walked around the gathering room, and pointed to one thing or another, as if she were giving him a grand tour and history of the McPherson clan.
After much rocking, soothing whispers and even a lullaby, Symon finally drifted off to sleep.
A stillness, a peaceful silence, filled the air. Fiona stood, near the hearth, listening to the soft, steady breaths of her nephew. Embers crackled softly, an occasional murmur and muffled noises coming from other
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