A Laird for All Time (13 page)

Emmy
slouched back in her chair – Dory did not even bother to raise a brow – and watched it all with a satisfied smile.  Connor laughed and argued the finer points of livestock with his family.  She could see his surprise when his young cousin, Nab, expressed an interest in taking a more active part in the work of the estate that was clearly much larger than Emmy had imagined.  The home farm and range where the cattle and sheep were housed were over a mile away on a large acreage that covered most of the southern end of Mull.  Interesting what one could learn when one had a chance to listen.

The
women spent a while longer without the men in the parlor that night, but could hear the shouts and conversation of the men occasionally over their own chatter in the parlor.  Instead of finding refuge at the piano once again, Emmy was drawn into a conversation with the younger ladies, cousins of Connor’s, and Dory on proper prenatal care.  Gladys, who was married to Connor’s cousin Gregor, admitted that she was also in a delicate condition - here Emmy had to roll her eyes - and wondered about how best to have an easy pregnancy.  The youngest, Nora, who had just recently wed young Nab who had been debating Connor over dinner, listened wide-eyed with awe and trepidation.

By the time the men joined them, Emmy was more relaxed than she had been in days
.  As she watched Connor saunter in her direction, she thought he was as well, perhaps more than he had been, not just in days, but months or even years.  He turned to make a comment to Innes who slapped him on the back as he passed and Connor smiled.  It was a full smile of happiness, Emmy thought.  No wryness or cynicism.  Just happiness.  “Look at you,” she commented lightly as he took a seat beside her.  “You keep this up, people might think that you actually are a friendly, humorous man.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips.  Placing a warm kiss to her palm, he l
ooked into her eyes.  “Thank ye,” he said simply.

Emmy shrugged and smiled.  “Me?  I didn’t do anything.  I told you if you just lightened up a bit everyone wouldn’t be so afraid of you.  Of course, now you’ll have to deal with everyone getting
all up in your business all the time.  Pestering you.”

Connor closed his eyes and groaned.  “
Much thanks!”

“That’s more like it,” she grinned and squeezed his fingers.  “You’ve got a pretty decent family here, Connor.”

He looked around the room and nodded.  “They’ll do.”

“High praise.”
  She released his hand and patted his knee.  “Well, my work here is done I think.”

Connor caught her ha
nd as she stood.  “Where are ye off to?”

“To bed, I think.”

“It’s early yet,” he argued, trying to pull her back down beside him.

Emmy sighed and stared down at his handsome face.  “Well, you see, I didn’t sleep
too well last night, or the night before for that matter.  It’s been a long day and I’m just tired.  Will you forgive me for giving in so early?”

“I h
a’ nae been sleeping well either,” he admitted huskily.  “I think we both know the reason.”

“I’m sure we do,” she drawled with a little sarcasm and shook her head.  “Before I start getting nasty, just let me go, ok
ay?”

Giving in
graciously, Connor kissed her hand again and rose.  “At least allow me to escort ye to our room?”

“It
might be better if you didn’t do that,” she said, knowing what might happen so easily if he did.  “I really do want to sleep.”

“Verra
well,” he conceded.  “It is just as well.  We ha’ an early morning ahead.  Yer maid should wake ye at about dawn for us to start our sail.”  He kissed her hand once again, lingering until she had to jerk it away from the heat and tingling his lips introduced.  “Good night, Hea… good night, my lady,” he corrected before she could do it herself.

“Good night, Connor,” she whispered, offered her good nights to the room and left
, thinking there was no way she was going to sleep well tonight either.  His kiss had seen to that and it was only on her hand!  She scratched her palm to rid it of the lingering tingle and wondered how long she could hold out against him.  Long enough for him to admit he was wrong?  Suddenly she doubted it.

S
urprisingly, Emmy did sleep well and was already awake and looking forward to the day with Connor when Margo arrived the next morning with a light breakfast, and to help her dress.  Wearing her own undergarments and again refusing the corset, Emmy accepted Margo’s advice for dressing warmly against the cold winds likely to abound on the Sound of Mull.  She allowed the long, woolen pantalets but wore them over her underwear, more like long johns, and wore two wool petticoats under her skirts.  She also had a warm coat, gloves and scarf to help keep her warm, but rejected the huge, ridiculous hat as pointless against the cold.

Emmy was thankful for it all when she met Connor at the carriage in front of the keep.  The clouds were heavy and gray
and, although the air was calm, it was chilly.

“Good morning, Connor,” she offered with a
cheery smile.

“Good morning, my lady,” he returned
, offering a hand up to help her into the carriage.  “Did ye sleep well then?”

“Thankfully, yes.  And you?”

“Well enough,” he answered with a grin, settling himself next to her on the long bench.  “So where shall we sail today?  Any thoughts?”

“Why don’t you just show me what you think I’d like best,” she told him.

“I might miss something of import,” he argued, but she shook her head.

“
It’s universally accepted the locals always know the best stuff.  I trust you.”

“Let’s be off then
.” He rapped on the roof of the carriage and it set off with a jerk, inciting a yelp from Emmy as she clutched Connor’s arm.

“Not exactly a smooth ride is it?” she complained
not a hundred yards down the drive.

Connor l
ooked affronted.  “I ha’ one of the best carriages on the island,” he argued.  “Ye’ll nae find a smoother ride nearby.”

“This is a smooth ride?”
  Emmy asked in amazement as the carriage swayed and jolted along the road.  The crunch of the gravel under the wooden wheels was audible and reminded her of the sound of a rolling pin over graham crackers when she made a crust for a pie. The vibration grated against her nerves like nails on a chalkboard.  She shuddered.  “God bless the invention of multipoint suspension,” she muttered as they bounced over a particularly big rut in the road.  She hung on to him with one hand and a strap hanging on the side of the carriage with the other as they went along.

“Go
od God, lass,” he scolded.  “Ye act like ye’ve ne’er been in a carriage before.  It’s nae that bad!” 

“I don’t know, Connor,” she
denied with a slow shake of her head, gulping deeply as motion sickness started to overtake her, “if this is a smooth ride, I might have a problem.”  The closed carriage allowed for no airflow and no windows to view the passing landscapes.

Connor looked
disgusted and reached across her to pull down the window beside her.  The cool breeze hit Emmy on the face and she turned to it gratefully, taking a deep breath of the fresh air.  “Ye think this is bad, wait until we are out on the water.”

Emmy shook her head in denial.  “I’ve never had a problem with
seasickness, not in my entire life.”

“Well, I canna
e wait until we get there then,” he muttered with a measure of antipathy.

“Me
neither,” she agreed.  The trip that had taken just ten minutes in the shuttle took almost an hour in the carriage.  When they got to the dock, Emmy was trembling and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  Shakily she accepted his offer of tea at a nearby inn while he made sure the boat was ready. 

What a nightmare!  Never had she been so
sensitive to the motion of any vehicle she had ever ridden in.  Every little sway had her swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat.  The only thing that she had to feel thankful for - besides the end of the trip - was that she hadn’t vomited in Connor’s lap along the way.  She refused to even think of the return trip at this point.  Emmy couldn’t imagine how these people suffered such horrific travel conditions regularly.  Indeed, for the duration of her stay, this might be her single expedition out of Duart!

Well, chalk up one more strike against this time, she thought as she patted her cheeks with some of the cold water the inn manager had brought for her. 
She nodded her thanks to the man and even drank the hot tea gratefully when it was placed before her. 

“Will there be anything else, lass?” the jolly
middle-aged man asked.

“No, thank you,” she replied
, pressing a damp towel to her neck.  “I appreciate your help.”

The man nodded and started to move off when a deep gravelly voice drew their attention.  “Maybe ye should offer the lady some toast or something, Jimmy.  She’s looking a mi
te peaked.”

Jimmy nodded and set off to do just that as Emmy stared in amazement at the owner of that distinctive voice.  “Donell?” she questioned aloud but received no response.  “Donell!” she commanded more firmly
, and for her troubles got an eyebrow raised at her over the rim of a pewter mug, as the man sipped his drink.

It was Donell the shuttle driver without a doubt
, but why not acknowledge it?  Why was he looking at her as if he didn’t know her?  Emmy grabbed her cup and moved over to his table without waiting to ask permission.  Leaning forward, she whispered, “Did it get you, too, Donell?”

“Did what get me, lass?” he asked
, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.  His bushy eyebrows rose in recognition that to Emmy’s mind looked a bit contrived.  “I ken who ye are, ye know?”

“I know you do!” she insisted.

“Ye’re the Countess of Duart returned after all these years!”  He raised his mug in a toast and drank deeply, though his eyes never left hers.  “What do ye think of Duart these days?  Nae too simple a life, eh?”

Emmy slumped back in her chair and stared at him
, flabbergasted.  As thoughts and realizations raced through her mind, she gaped like a landed fish as she tried to formulate a response.  “You?  You did this to me?  How?  Why?”  These last two words were vague and shot through with disbelief as he continued to drink and study her in turn.

“Ye seem to be doing pretty well fer yerself so far,” he added
, still looking at her.  “
Are
ye enjoying your visit?  Ye’ve come a long way after all.”

Emmy’s head began to nod automatically in response.  “Yes,” she whispered.

“Ready to go home then?”

Hesitation, just a moment
, and that was all it took for his wrinkled rugged face to crease into an expression of amusement.  “Not yet then, eh?”

“Donell,” she whispered
, stunned by the realization that he presented.  “How?” she repeated.  “Why?”

“Tragic family, the MacLeans,” he commented
as if he never heard her questions.  “What wi’ the laird’s wife leaving him like that and then the wife of the younger one…”

“Dory?  It
is
about Dory, isn’t it?  I thought so!  Am I here to save her?  What of Connor?” Emmy reached out and squeezed the old man’s hand in appeal.  “They are good people, Donell!  Tell me what I need to do.”

The old man patted her hand between his in a
kindly manner, and smiled as he continued on as if he hadn’t heard her at all.  He hadn’t even admitted that he was behind what had brought her here!  How had he done it?  Laws of physics, and government conspiracies aside, Emmy wasn’t one to believe in magic or sorcery.  What other power could make this happen?  She was believer enough to have just one answer jump to her mind, but taking Donell in with a shake of her head, denied
that
possibility. 

Perhaps it wasn’t happening at all but was instead som
e drug-induced delusion.  More dream than reality but the old Scot didn’t look evil enough to have been a part of such duplicity either.  “What is going on, Donell? You must tell me!” she insisted.

“Everyone deserves a second chance
at life, lassie.  Even ye.”

“Me?”
Emmy slumped back in frustrated confusion.  “I don’t need a second chance!  I have a perfect life waiting for me!”

“Do ye now?”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Is it now?” he questioned again with a twinkle in his eye.  “
Ye came on yer holiday alone, lass.  No friends wi’ ye.  No man.  Perfect life?  Do ye even ken what ye
really
want?”

“Of course I do.”

“Ye dinnae envy these people their simple life?” he queried craftily.  “Ah, but mayhap ye’ve begun to realize that it isnae so simple, eh?  What say ye, lassie?  Ye still thinking these people have a simple life?”  He chuckled and shifted his eyes. 

Hers followed
the direction of his, and she saw Connor approaching the inn.  Her long exhale spoke volumes.  “A bit longer, I think.”  The old man rose and dropped a few coins on the table.  “Ta-ra, Jimmy,” he called as he shuffled to the door.

“Wait!” Emmy called but Donell j
ust raised his hand in farewell, and even held the door open with a slight bow to the laird as Connor entered the inn.

“
Ye still look a wee bit peaked, my love,” he commented with a hint of worry as he joined her at the table.  “Are ye sure ye want to do this?”

“Connor,” she asked instead
, a touch of desperation in her voice, “do you know that man who just left?”

Connor
looked over his shoulder and bit back a chuckle, “Old Donell?  Has he managed to wrap ye around his finger?  Most of the ladies here would do just about anything he asked.”

“Who is he?”

“He owns a small farm north of here on the coast.  Been old since I was just a lad, but ne’er seems to change.”  Enjoying the look of curiosity on her face, Connor leaned in and added in a confidential tone, “Rumor has it that he might be a wizard or such.  His mother before him was said to be a powerful witch.”

“Really,” Emmy choked out.
  A wizard?  Was it magic that had brought her here?

“Some others say he’s a fallen angel.”

“A what?”

“One of God’s angels who has come down from Heaven to serve a penance of sorts,” Connor
’s expression turned mischievous.  “Dinnae look so serious, lassie, it’s all nonsense and superstition.  ‘Tis what happens when an old man never seems to age and appears to ha’ a blessed touch about him.”

“Blessed touch?”

“Some say he has a healing touch or is just good luck or such nonsense.” Connor paused, realizing that she was taking him much too seriously.  “Needn’t fear him, my love, he’s just a harmless old man wi’ too much time on his hands.  Tends to like to poke around in other people’s business.”

Apparently,
Emmy thought sarcastically,
and now I’m his newest hobby!
What was she supposed to do now that her life - her future! - was resting in the hands of an ancient bored wizard/angel?  What did it all mean?  And what did he mean when he asked did
she
know what she wanted?  Rebellious youth aside, she had always been career driven.

“Are you ready to go?” Connor asked
, interrupting her thoughts.

Emmy stared at the empty door f
or a moment.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”