Quinn: A Scottish Outlaw (Highland Outlaws Book 2) by Lily Baldwin Read Free Book Online Page B

before turning back to her baby. Brows drawn, she started to tug on the fabric while at the same time trying to hold down James’s squirmy arms.
    Once more amazement struck Quinn. “Do ye not know how to swaddle him?”
    She looked up at him. In the bright moonlight, he glimpsed wet tears now streaming down her cheeks.
    “No, I do not,” she said, her voice trembling. “My husband was very strict about James’s care. I…I was able to hold James once, sometimes even twice a day, but it was Elizabeth, my nursemaid, who tended him.”
    Understanding pained Quinn’s heart as he looked at Catarina with fresh eyes—she was a mother who had never been allowed to mother. “Let me show ye,” he said softly.
    He crossed to her side and untied the bundle he carried. He laid the blanket out and set aside some fresh linens. Then he gently took James from her arms. “First, let’s remove the soiled cloths.” He unwrapped the strips one by one. “We’ll bury those to avoid leaving a trail,” he said. Then he set about swaddling James in fresh strips, adding an extra layer beneath his bottom.
    “There now,” Quinn said, scooping James into his arms. “Now, walk about like this and rock him. He’ll find the movement soothing.” He paced back and forth with a little bounce in his step. “Ye try,” he said to Catarina.
    She backed up a step. “No,” she said, “You are doing so well already.”
    Ignoring her protest, Quinn closed the distance between them and placed the baby in her arms. “Now walk about and rock him.”
    She mimicked his movements and after a while, James’s cries lessened. She smiled at Quinn, and the sight of her unabashed joy broke his heart. To keep a mother from her child was unforgivable. He swallowed the anger that rose inside of him. It was too late to undo the past. He grabbed the bundle. “Come. We must away. I’m afraid he’s going to keep on fussing some until we find some milk.” 
    With a gentle hold above her elbow, he led her away from the tunnel. Soon, they reached a wide field of flax. “Keep low,” he said, and they remained hunched over until once more a thick canopy of forest surrounded them.
    It was nearing late spring, and they were close enough to the Highlands that the night sky never fully claimed its cloak of darkness. Under the prolonged twilight sky, Quinn could see a farm in the distance. James’s whimpers had turned to pained cries.
    “His wait is over, my lady,” he said, pointing to the farm. Desperation flooded her eyes. He hated to leave her, but it could not be helped. “Keep rocking and soothing him just as I showed ye.”
    Catarina had never felt more helpless as she watched Brother Augustine cross the open meadow, bent low to keep out of sight. James’s cries hurt her heart in a way nothing ever had. She had never been allowed to stay in the room when he had begun to fuss. Henry had often reminded her that she was a lady raising a lord, a master of men. Her role was not to nurture an infant. He feared she would be unable to part with their heir when he turned six and would be sent away to foster with another noble family. She had pleaded with him, arguing that she would rather make the most of the time they had together and deal with the heartache when James moved away. But Henry, as he had in all things, insisted he knew best. And now, she was a mother incapable of soothing or caring for her son. And although she was grateful to Brother Augustine for his help, it pained her that a celibate monk knew better to care for her baby than she.
    She paced among the trees, staying out of sight but close enough to the forest edge to watch for the brother’s coming. Suffering imbued James’s hungry cries, twisting her from the inside out and bringing stinging tears to her own eyes. She pressed her wet cheek to his wet cheek and cooed in his ears promises of relief. When at last she spotted Brother Augustine hunched over, crossing the field, her heart filled