A Laird to Hold Angeline Fortin (most important books of all time .TXT) 📖

Scarlett sat upright as they flashed a picture of her newborn daughter in the incubator on the screen. Then another grainy shot of Scarlett when she’d been down in the nursery breastfeeding the baby with the supervision of a neonatal nurse during one of her first attempts.

“How did they get those? Someone is going to die, I swear.”

“We know Olivia Harrington, Thomas’s mother, and her agent, Tyrone Halliday, visited this morning. Also Miss Thomas’s former co-star from the Puppet Wars trilogy, Grayson Lukas, was spotted entering the facility today.” A new picture came up and the reporter went on, “His appearance seems to confirm his claims that he and Miss Thomas secretly eloped during her mysterious disappearance following the opening of the new museum at Dunskirk. Rumor has it he is the father of the child.”

“If someone is to die, he’ll be the first to go,” Laird promised darkly, rising to his feet. “How dare he spout such falsehoods!”

She wasn’t surprised Grayson would leak such a claim. Sickened, but not surprised. He’d do anything for the spotlight. God, had she even been aware of how much she’d hated her life before?

Her acrimonious feelings toward Donell mellowed a fraction. Whatever else he had up his sleeve, at least he’d taken her away from this life and given her all she held dear. Scarlett supposed she owed it to him to be a little more charitable.

Whatever his plan was.

She was too tired to think about it at the moment when the weight of the world already seemed to be pressing down on her. Uncomfortable tension held her so taut, Scarlett was sure she’d snap instead of bend in a brisk wind. Quiet time and meditation would help. More than that, Scarlett needed sleep. Lots of it.

The sky out the windows had long since grown dark. Visiting hours, if they were adhered to, had long ended.

“It’s getting late,” she announced to the room at large. “Isn’t it?”

Claire, sympathetic because of her own pregnancy or perhaps because she was more aware than her husband that Scarlett hadn’t completely warmed to them yet, took pity on her first. She cast a warm, sympathetic smile at Scarlett. “You must be exhausted. It’s terrible of us to keep you up. We should go.”

“I’ve secured rooms for ye at our hotel,” Hugh told them. “I imagine ye could all use a decent bed, aye? Maybe a change of scenery as well?”

Connor and Emmy both expressed their enthusiasm for the idea, but Rhys looked first to Laird then Scarlett. “I should stay here to stand guard.”

“You should go, Rhys.” Scarlett knew he’d made the offer out of a strong sense of duty. There was enough longing in his assertion to tell her he wished it weren’t so, however.

“Are ye certain, dearest Scar?”

“I am. That is, if you can stay out of trouble for a whole night. Can you?”

A jaunty, mischievous grin spread across his face. “I dinnae ken. I should find oot, aye?”

Cheerfully, he joined the others in packing their original clothing into the bags Hugh and Claire had brought. They folded up Laird and Scarlett’s garments as well, knowing they wouldn’t be needed for the time being. Watching their activity, Laird returned to Scarlett’s side and settled in close to her. She could tell he meant to stay behind.

“You should go with them,” she said quietly. Lacing her fingers through his, she savored the bond between them, but she couldn’t be selfish. “Nothing is going to happen in one night and I know you must want to get out of here, for a little while at least.”

“Nay, I will remain wi’ ye.”

Scarlett shook her head with a teasing smile. “Now what makes you think I want you here? You’ve been like a caged lion all day, pacing the room and the halls. You need to get out. Breathe some fresh air. Get some exercise. Look at something besides these four walls.”

“I cannae leave ye, lass.”

In other words, he didn’t want to leave her side in case something more mystical than a horde of reporters swept her away. Either that or he was nervous about leaving what had become a known quantity and facing the unknown beyond the hospital. Not that he’d ever admit to it even if it was true, but the idea made her laugh.

“You’ll get to sleep in a real bed,” she enticed. He shook his head, lacing their fingers together as if to bind him to her side. “I know you’ll like the hotel bed far more than a cot. You can take a long hot shower in a huge bathroom.” He was still shaking his head. “And eat a real meal.”

His whole body stilled, even his breath, and she knew she’d played the trump card of temptation.

“Not all food here is like what they serve at the hospital,” she enticed him. “You could get a hot breakfast of hot bannocks and bangers and—”

“Enough.” His fingers pressed to her lips to cut her off. She nipped at his finger, then kissed it before drawing it away. Laird shook his head. “I cannae deny I would like some time away from this suffocating place. But…”

“Then go,” she urged as the word lingered. “Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I should no’…”

One last push over the edge. “Maybe I’ll be able to get some rest too without all you men snoring all night long.”

His lips quirked up. He’d go, she knew, but he’d worry about her the whole while just the same. There was nothing she could say to stop that.

Her cheek tingled as Laird’s fingers trailed down to her jaw. The love in his fluid pewter eyes sent a different sort of quiver through the rest of her.

“I’ve ne’er spent a night away from ye willingly before, mo chroí,” he