A Laird for All Time (11 page)

Dory looked to Emmy.  “She’s fine, Ian,”
Emmy assured them both.  “The baby’s movements startled Dory and gave her a scare, but the baby seems fine.  There’s no bleeding and the mucus plug is still intact.  I think it’s just Braxton Hicks.”

“
What?” they both asked.

“
False labor,” she told them.  “It can be brought on from lack of exercise or dehydration.  A warm bath will probably help right now, but you’ll need to start going for some walks, Dory, and lay off the tea and just drink water,” she added in her best physician voice.  “But,” Emmy grinned, “rest assured that she is fine for now.  But, seriously, Dory, no more corset.”

“I won’t,” she said meekly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Emmy stared down at the tape measure where she held the mark for the baby’s fundal height, the measurement from her pubic bone to the top of the uterus.  She did the mental math to equate the measurement to centimeters. 
Well, that couldn’t be right, could it?
  Emmy looked back down at Dory who was curled in a ball while Ian whispered softly to her as he stroked her hair back from her forehead.

“Dory?” she asked.  “When did you say you thought you were due?”

“Six weeks, perhaps?  Maybe more,” Dory offered.  “Why?”

“Will y
ou let me measure one more time?” Emmy asked rhetorically.  She had every intention of double-checking her measurement.

“Must you?”

“I think we must,” Emmy replied with a little sarcasm.  “Ahh, good!”  Margo entered the room carrying what looked like an ancient stethoscope with a large funnel on the end.  “Thank you Margo, you can go.  Well, Dory?  Does Ian stay or go?”

“I’m staying,” he stated firmly before Dory had a chance to respond.  “I’m staying,” he repeated
, looking down at his wife who finally nodded in consent.  He took a seat next to her and held her hand as she turned back onto her back.  Both looked at Emmy expectantly.

At this show of acceptance, Emmy raised the gown again and took her time measuring.  “How accurate is this tape measure?” she asked.  “Each knot is an inch right?”

“It should be fairly accurate,” Ian told her.  “It measures the same as my tailor in Inverary.”

Emmy nodded but didn’t need the tape to confirm what her eyes knew.  Without the corset, Dory was substantially larger than a woman of 36 weeks should be.  She converted the measurement again and tried to refrain from shaking her head lest she worry them.  Taking the stethoscope, she put the
outdated piece on Dory’s belly, muttering over how badly it worked.  She listened for the baby’s heartbeat.  It was a fast and regular whoosh-whoosh as expected but as she listened closer she heard what she suspected.  Moving the steth around the other side and lower, she listened again.  Pulling the instrument off, she set it aside and pressed here and there on Dory’s abdomen.  “What I wouldn’t give for an ultrasound,” she murmured to herself.

Finally
, she stepped back and allowed Dory a moment to straighten her gown before answering the question in both their eyes.  “Okay, so here’s the thing,” she prefaced.  “It’s twins.”

“Twins?” they both echoed.

Emmy held up two fingers and said.  “Twins.  Two.”

Ian grinned and whooped
, turning to crush Dory in his embrace before apologizing and holding her more gently.  He laid one hand down on her stomach and she covered his hand with hers as they stared at each other in amazement.  He bent to kiss her tenderly, whispering in her ear. Feeling like an interloper, Emmy cleared her throat to remind them of her presence.

Ian hopped up and hugged her as well
, and she returned the embrace with a smile.  “Congratulations.”

“I can’t believe it,” Dory said in awe
, staring down at her stomach. 

“Well, it’s not surprising
if you think about it,” Emmy reasoned as she gathered up the tape and steth.  “Twins are often genetic.  They run in families,” she clarified and they nodded.  “We’ll talk more about all that later.  For now, I’ll just give you a chance to celebrate.”  She excused herself from the room with a smile, but as soon as she got into the hall, she leaned against the wall and covered her face with her hands.  Worries cropped up in Emmy’s mind as she pictured natural childbirth with multiples in this setting, with the antiquated medical advancements available.  Twins were almost always done by C-Section in her time, just to avoid any complications that might crop up during a vaginal birth.  Video from medical school replayed itself in her mind and she shuddered with dread.

She rubbed her hands over her face and pushed away from the wall only to see Connor standing just a few feet away.  They stared at each other for a long moment
. She was sure he was replaying the events of the night before in his mind, as she was.  His version was probably different than hers though.  Male recollection usually put a woman at fault when they were left with sexual frustrations.  Well, she hadn’t slept at all last night either!

“Conno
r,” she nodded curtly. She moved to bypass him so she could return to her room and brood over medieval childbirth in private.

“Is Dory going to be all right?” he asked
, catching her arm.  “Did she lose the bairn?”

“Mother and babies are doing fine so far,” she told him
wearily.

“Babies?”

“She’s going to have twins, Connor,” she told him and enjoyed the surprised look on his face.  “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Ian must be
over the moon,” he said with a smile, shaking his head.

“He is.  They both are.”

“But ye’re nae.  Why?” he asked but as she remained silent wondered at her expression.  She did not look happy at all. Indeed, she appeared troubled and ashen, but hadn’t she just said the babies were doing well?  There was something else she was holding back and his curiosity outweighed his need to avoid her company.  He turned and offered his arm to her.  “Ye look like ye could use a drink.  Shall we?”

“Why not?”
Clearly he was willing to forget the previous night and move on.  Why shouldn’t she?  Emmy took his arm as he escorted her down the stairs. He bypassed the parlor and instead led her toward his study where he ushered her in and shut the door behind them.  It was a dark paneled room, scholarly and manly, like a condensed version of the Library of Congress.  The walls were covered with bookshelves, filing cabinets and maps.  A large desk in the center was heaped with piles of papers and ledgers.  Obviously, he was not a neat freak, but it suited him.  Thankfully the gas lighting shed enough light so the room wasn’t cave-like.  He sat her in a wingback chair near the fire as the October day was cold and went to pour her a drink.  “Whisky or Claret?”

Emmy wrinkled her nose at the
thought of whisky straight up.  “Claret, I guess.  Thanks.”

He handed her a glass and sat with his own in the chair across from her.  “
I am curious, why aren’t ye happy for them?  Jealous?”

Emmy scowled at h
im as she took a sip from the glass.  “Just love to think the worst of people, don’t you?”

“People are often predictably
self-absorbed,” Connor replied simply.

“Sure they are, but a little optimism in the human condition wouldn’t be amiss from time to time,” she admonished.  “
Occasionally they might even surprise you.”

“And ye’re
an optimist?”

Surprised at the question,
Emmy laughed in a self-deprecating way and shook her head.  “No, I am and have always been a ‘glass is half empty’ kind of girl.  If something can go wrong, it will.  Murphy’s law and all that.  It’s terrible really to always have worst-case scenarios running around in your mind.  Seeing the worst in everyone, imagining the worst of every situation.”

“Ye
dinnae do that.”  He looked surprised that she said as much.

“Oh, but I do.”  She laughed at herself as she took another sip
.  She slipped off her shoes and relaxed into the chair tucking a foot up underneath her and allowing the other to swing freely.  “When my friends are late meeting me somewhere, like a club or something, I always imagine that they’ve been  in a horrific car wreck and are lying, bleeding and broken, on the side of the street.  I sit at weddings contemplating how long it will last. When guys ask me out, it’s never because they like me, it’s just because they want a piece of ass.  That kind of stuff.”

Connor looked appalled at her words and she laughed again.  “Oh, yea
h, like you’re Mr. Positive Thinker.”

H
e finally offered a smile.  “Ye just dinnae seem that way… outwardly.”

“I don’t want to be.  Things just pop in
to my head.  Weird stuff.  Stephen King-y kind of things,” she told him, forgetting that he wouldn’t know who the famous author was.  “Worst case scenarios. But that’s why I do obstetrics,” she explained.  “Babies are all light and possibilities.  Innocence and new beginnings.  Nothing is better or brighter than bringing a baby into the world.”

In that moment
, her face lit up and he could tell from the glow within that she spoke the truth in that moment.  She did love it and all it entailed.  That radiant light only enhanced her beauty.  He grimaced and turned away from the thought.  “Yet ye aren’t happy for Ian and Dory.”

Emmy swished the wine around her glass and hedged a bit.  “Oh, I am happy for them.  I mean twins are a ton of work but two
times the fun, you know?”

“But?”

“But, in this time and in this place, delivering twins could be…” she trailed off with a shudder of apprehension and shrugged.  “I’m just afraid for a delivery under these conditions.  It’s like my personal nightmare.”

“And
yer Baltimore is safer?”

“Where I come from, it would be infinity safer,” she
clarified with complete honesty.

Connor imagined his brother
’s despair in the face of the loss of his wife or child.  It would ruin him, Connor knew.  Ian centered his entire world around Dory and had been devastated by the loss of the previous bairns in the past years.  “It would help her if ye were here though, would it nae?  If ye know more than our doctor or the midwives from the mainland, ye could help her have a safe delivery, aye?”

“
Experience always helps, but Connor, I’m just not sure about what could go wrong. There could be complications. There’s just no way to know here,” she vented in frustration.

“There’s ne’
er a way to know anywhere,” he argued.  “Ye just have to take it as it comes and hope for the best.”

“
Next you’ll be saying that whatever happens, it’s the will of God,” she laughed and took another long sip of the wine.  “Believe me, Connor, there are ways to know.”

Connor was momentarily affronted that she would mock the power of God’s will, but did not venture from the topic. 
“Anything I can do to help ye I will,” he assured her.  “Whatever ye need, I will get it for ye.”

“Well, a peek into a well-stocked medical bag
would be useful,” she admitted.  “I’d like to see what’s available to work with.”

“Consider it done.”
He raised his glass and she saluted him in turn. 

“There is one other thing that you could do for me, Connor,” she said
softly after a long period of companionable silence, running a finger pensively along the rim of her glass.

“What’s that?” he
asked, his voice full of dread.

“Believe me,” was her simple request.

Connor studied her for a long while.  She was slouched back in the chair, sitting on one foot while she swung the other idly back and forth.  The way she leaned against the arm showed a complete lack of decorum, something Heather had prized.  But still… “I cannae,” he insisted.

“Why not?”

Because he wanted her to be Heather, he realized.  He wanted her to be his long-lost wife, to belong to him, to have a life in Scotland and family worth staying here for, even if that family was her sister and future niece or nephew or both.  If she was just a doctor from Baltimore there was no reason for her to stay, nothing to keep her here.  If he admitted to her or anyone else that he had considered for even a moment that she was not Heather MacLean! Why then he might as well hold the door open himself as she left!  He didn’t want that to happen yet.  There were possibilities here, something between them that he meant to explore. 

With her he felt alive, not awash with the anger that had ruled his life for so long.  She made him smile and even laugh out loud, something he felt like he hadn’t done in years. 
This woman had brought that to him and he intended to keep her, even after the pain she had caused.

Yet, strangely, he didn’t feel that anger in him any longer
; that burning hatred and humiliation had dissipated.  Had he forgiven her those trespasses?  When did that happen?  How had that happened?  Had this new attraction between them, the affection he felt for her, allowed him to look beyond the past?  Or even forgive?  Connor shook his head and wondered.

Wh
ile his silence reigned, Emmy whispered the terrible truth that had been plaguing her: “I wish I was your Heather, Connor.  There was a moment last night when I wanted nothing more.  But I am not.”

“Ye are,” he insisted.

Emmy got to her feet, clenching her fists in frustration as she stuffed her feet back into her shoes.  “You are the most stubborn ass of a man I have ever met!”  She stamped her foot and turned to leave the room.

“Wait!” he called
, rising as well, fishing for something to keep her here.  “I was hoping we might go for a ride together this afternoon!”

Emmy flung her arms in the air.  “Argh!’ she vented as she
turned to flee, but Connor caught her arm, spinning her back to him.

Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he caught her gaze with his and held it.  His thumbs caressed her cheeks as she glared up at him.  “What?!” she demanded.

“I am trying to ‘let it go’ as ye suggested,” he whispered gruffly.  “I am trying, but can ye nae give something in return?”

“I am not your wife,” she stated stubbornly.

“I know.  Ha’ I nae already conceded that I ha’ no wife?”  Connor leaned closer and nuzzled her cheek, cutting off her protest.  “I have been thinking that we might try again, my love.  Much has changed.  We ha’ the chance to get to know each other this time.  We ha’ both matured, ha’ we nae?  Is there nae an attraction between us now that was nae present before?”

Emmy could not stop her head from falling back
to allow him access to her neck. He began to kiss and suck lightly, bringing shivers of desire as she clutched his shoulders and pulled him closer.  “Man, you are such an idiot,” she whispered in a low tone that belied the harsh words.

“If wanting ye
makes me one, than I submit to yer judgment.” His lips traveled back up and caught hers in a searing kiss that had her knees giving way.  He slid his arms around her and pulled her close as she wrapped her own around his neck.

Holy cow, this man can kiss!
she thought fuzzily as his open mouth met hers again and again before settling over hers more forcibly.  She could feel the frenzy that was building in him and felt the answering cry of her body in return.  God, she wanted him!  Would it be so wrong?

His big hands came up to cup her breasts just as a heavy rapping sounded on the door of the study.  Jumping back, she caught herself on a nearby table as the door swung open
, missing her by inches.  Ian bounded into the room, beaming hugely.

“Connor!  I ha’
news!” he announced enthusiastically before raising his eyebrows as he saw Emmy peeking from behind the door and Connor studiously rearranging papers from the front of his desk.  “Or maybe, ye ha’ already heard,” he amended.

“Aye, Heather has just been telling me the good news
. Congratulations!” Connor returned his brother’s smile and held out a hand for Ian’s handshake.

“I’ll just return to my room then,”
Emmy mumbled as she rounded the door, torn between embarrassment at nearly being caught in a compromising position and irritation that Connor had again addressed her by that name.

“What about that ride?” Connor questioned as she left.

Emmy continued on but her answer trailed sarcastically out behind her.  “Not now, dear, I have a headache!”