Suddenly aware that Conner was right by her side, Flora glanced at him. ‘Is someone going to call Logan? He should be here for the next bit.’

‘No.’ Evanna grabbed his hand. ‘It will be too much for him.’

But the decision was taken out of their hands because Logan appeared in the doorway, his face grey. ‘Oh, God—what can I do?’

‘Pour yourself a whisky and hold Evanna’s hand,’ Conner advised, and Flora glanced at him.

‘Actually, you can draw up the Syntometrine so that Conner can give it.’

Evanna gave another gasp. ‘Flora, I’ve got another one coming.’

‘Great.’ Flora smiled at her, concentrated on delivering the anterior shoulder and then the baby slithered out, red-faced and bawling. ‘Little boy. Congratulations.’ She lifted the wriggling bundle onto Evanna’s abdomen and covered him with the warmed towels that Janet quietly handed her.

‘Oh, Logan…’ Tears spilled down Evanna’s cheeks as she curved her arm protectively around the baby.

Logan stared down at his wife and son, his eyes bright. He didn’t speak. Then he lifted a hand and pressed his fingers to his eyes, clearly struggling for control.

Conner rose to his feet. ‘She’s fine,’ he said softly. ‘They’re both fine. Your family is safe. You can relax.’ He hesitated for a moment and then reached out a hand and closed his fingers over his cousin’s shoulder. Flora felt a lump build in her own throat as she saw the gesture of support and reassurance.

Who said Conner wasn’t capable of forming relationships?

Who said that he wasn’t capable of feeling?

Knowing that her work wasn’t finished, Flora turned her attention back to the delivery. She clamped the cord twice, divided it and then attached a Hollister clamp near the umbilicus. ‘Two normal arteries, Evanna,’ she murmured. ‘Everything is looking good here.’ She gently applied traction to the cord and the placenta slid out into the bowl.

‘I’ll check it.’ Logan stepped forward to help, his face regaining some of its colour. ‘I’m feeling fine now. Thank you. Both of you.’

‘He’s already feeding, Logan.’ Evanna sounded sleepy and delighted at the same time. ‘What are we going to call him?’

They murmured together and Flora’s eyes misted as she watched them with their new son. Logan’s hands were gentle, his face softened by love, and Evanna looked as though she’d won the lottery.

Feeling a lump in her throat, Flora glanced towards Conner. He was standing at the French windows, staring out across the garden, his shoulders tense and his features frozen.

She wondered what he was thinking.

Was he remembering his own family, and the contrast they must have made to the scene playing out in front of him?

They’d shared enough secrets in the stillness of the night for her to know that he would be less than comfortable with such undiluted domesticity.