A Laird for All Time (14 page)

“Are ye sure ye
want to do this?” he asked again as they went down the wooden dock to his boat mooring.  He had never seen anyone get sick from a carriage ride so quickly
and
she had moaned and groaned the entire journey as if she were about to die.  He had thought her to be made of sterner stuff than that and was almost afraid to take her out on the open waters of the sound lest she take up her whining once more.

“Of course!  I’m fine now, don’t worry about it
.” She patted his hand reassuringly and put her troubles behind her.  “Which one is yours?”

Connor pointed along the dock to a large sailing vessel moored about half way up.  “There she is.
  ‘Buidhe Bean-Chèile’”

Emmy looked with amazement to the boat and back up to him.  “Why, Connor!  It’s beautiful!  That’s no mere sailboat!”  Indeed, his boat was more like a small yacht trimmed with brass
fittings; it looked like it could belong to a prince.  “Very nice, Connor, very nice. What does the name mean?”

“
A Good Wife,” he answered, jumping down into the deck at the bow before turning to help her down.  Emmy stared down at him with bulging eyes.

“It was named for my mother,” he explained
with a low chuckle and Emmy exhaled a doubtful laugh, taking the proffered hand, but jumping as he did to the deck before grinning up at him. 

“
Of course it was.  Wow, this is great!” she enthused.  The deck here was edged in benches but currently also sported two chairs for them to take in the scenery, she supposed.  “For us?”

“Aye, I thought ye
might enjoy the view from here.  It will be windy, but I dinnae think too unpleasant,” he assured her.

“No, not at all!  Wow!” she
said again looking around her.  “Pretty cool, Connor.  Even Dr. Evans doesn’t have one this fancy.”

“Dr. Evans?” he queried
curiously.

“One of the doctors at Hopkins,” she told him.  “He lives on his boat and keeps a berth out in Annapolis.  He had some of the
senior residents out on the 4
th
of July to watch the fireworks on the bay.  I thought his was nice, but he’d envy you, I think.”

“He canna
e afford a house?”

Emmy laughed.  “Of course he can, silly.  He lives on the boat because he wants to.  I mean, n
o biggie, he’s a single guy.  Life’s all about him at this point.”

Connor wondered if this single ‘guy’ was one of the men Emmy had slept with
, but didn’t want to ruin their day, so he kept the question to himself.  “What do ye think?”

“
What? No tour?” she laughed.

“There’s
nae too much to see,” he demurred, but escorted her below to show her the main cabin. It had a small wood stove for heat and cooking, and folding doors that could be closed to section off an area for sleeping.  Other than that, there was only a small water closet.  It was small but the furnishings were elegant and she told him so.

He shrugged.  “It’s
nae much but it does allow several people at once to travel to the mainland wi’out waiting for the ferry.  Shall we?”  He gestured to the short steps that would take them back on deck, signaling Emmy to precede him.  As she started up however, her backside came right up to his eye level and Connor was hard-pressed not to help her up just to have an excuse to put his hands just there.  Chuckling ruefully he shook his head, pocketing his hands in an effort to fight the temptation she presented.

Emmy looked back over her shoulder suspiciously.  “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head in denial.  “Nothing at all.  Up ye go and I’ll have the porter bring us some drinks on deck.”

“It’s a bit early for drinks isn’t it?”

“I was thinking tea actually.”  But as she started to wrinkle her nose he held up a hand.  “But since I know ye do not care for it, I thought perhaps coffee?  To warm us?”

The smile she offered was soft as she considered his thoughtfulness.  “Coffee would be wonderful.  Thank you.”

As they went on deck once more, preparations were already being made to make sail.  The small crew of four was raising the sails and shouting to one another as Emmy took a seat in one of the chairs at the bow.  A deckhand draped a blanket across her lap and she smiled her thanks.  Soon they were making their way into the sound and Emmy was cradling a porcelain cup of coffee in her hands.  It had nothing on Starbucks, of course, but it was strong and hot, warming her in the chill of the late October morning.  The winds off the sound bit at her cheeks and she raised her face to the wind in enjoyment, even as she turned her mind to Donell’s cryptic words.

For his part, Connor held his cup but could do nothing more than watch the joy on her face as she raised
hers, eyes closed to savor both the weather and the beverage.  He wondered if he was being a complete fool to encourage this strange bond between them; to fantasize over the possibilities her return presented to him.  If someone had told him a month ago he would be plotting ways to have her for himself, he would have laughed at them for a fool.  Yet here he was with a woman who still denied her identity, though the duplicity continued to puzzle him. 

It simply was not possible that a
nother woman identical to Heather and Dory could exist and arrive at his home with the same timing she had.  What then had motivated her return and denial?  He had no answers and that in itself was frustrating.

But being in her company was not.  He knew he should fight it, that he should hold ti
ght to the anger and resentment, lest she play him for a fool once more.  Perhaps she already was playing him for a fool, he thought.  Perhaps this was some cruel game she had concocted to bring further misery to his life.  Could it be?  He shook his head.  This Heather - his lady, he had been thinking of her rather than calling her by that name to avoid arguments – was an open book.  When she was happy she laughed and teased.  When she was angry, she made sure he knew it.  Surely someone who so openly expressed every feeling could not be hiding sinister plots behind that façade?

She
had to be Heather, yet some part of him recognized that, at least in manner, she was not the Heather he knew.  This woman was playful, inappropriately casual and yet sharply intelligent and openly caring about other people.  She worried for others; Dory, Ian and even himself.  She had mended in just a couple of days a family estrangement that had been in place for nearly a decade.  He knew that he owed her his thanks for that alone.

Beyond that,
she was sensual, alluring and seductive without even trying.  He closed his eyes and pictured the two of them together.  The chemistry between them was profound.  He wanted her with near desperation, yet wasn’t sure it would be enough.

“Penny for your thoughts.”  Her low voice cut through his thoughts and he opened his
eyes to find her studying him, much as he had been scrutinizing her moments before.

He shook his head
in denial.  “Nothing of importance.”

Emmy knew that was a lie.  The expression on his face
had been almost… well, longing, if she had to put a name to it.  She wished she knew what had prompted it.  Was he thinking of her?  Was it possible that he might think as she did?  In the space of a few days, Emmy had experienced the most intense desire that she had ever felt in her life.  However, there was so much more between herself and Connor than just pure lust.  At least on her part.  She shuddered to think that everything else was just one-sided because Connor was rapidly becoming extremely important to her.  She respected him, she knew.  It was difficult not to.  His devotion to his role as laird and head of his clan was remarkable.  He took the responsibility so seriously, despite the lack of deeper personal relationships among those who depended on him.  He was so caring, yet trying to mask it. His sense of humor was similar to hers.  He was well read and liked music.  And, as she suspected before, she was certain that he wanted badly to have someone to love.

And she wanted that love directed at her.  The revelation shouldn’t have been surprising but it was nonetheless.
To be sheltered by Connor’s love would be the most incredible thing.  She knew it without a doubt.  He was a bit gruff now, but thawing quickly and Emmy could easily imagine the role he would assume in a relationship. 

He would be protector, provider
and lover. 

It wen
t against Emmy’s stalwart belief in the power of womanhood, of independence and self-worth to think that she might enjoy being taken care of.  Being a wife in the sense it meant in this time did have a certain appeal to it.  She inwardly recoiled at her internal confession.  Did she really think she could give over her personal power into the hands of a man? 
Be a housewife?
Figuratively speaking, of course, since, as a countess, she would have few duties.  But that was the point.  Countesses did not have careers. She met his dark eyes and they stared at each other for a long moment, each considering.

She could see
it, Emmy acknowledged.  She might even do it – for him.  He wouldn’t abuse his rights, she believed him capable of a giving, sharing relationship.  She trusted him. 

Holy shit
! I think I am falling in love with him,
she thought.

“And ye?  A penny for ye
rs?” he whispered.

Oh, hell no!
she thought, shaking her head in denial. 

They were well into the sound by this point, heading on a southeasterly course closer to the coast than the ferry had traveled.  As they moved along to the south, she caught a glimpse of a palatial manor tucked away among the hills and trees.  She asked Connor what it was.

“Duart House.  Home of the Guthries.”

“Oh,” she said in surprise and examined the beautiful building with a critical eye.  It was so lovely, much bigger than she would have thought and as elegant as a French chateau.  “Home of the ex-girlfriend.”

“Just so,” he confirmed softly.

“Why didn’t you just tell everyone the marriage had been annulled?” she asked curiosity getting the best of her.  “Why have you
still
not told anyone?  You could still marry the woman, you know.”

Connor
rubbed his finger along his lower lip, in a gesture she was beginning to realize was a habit of his when he was thinking, and regarded the house solemnly.  “I dinnae know why I ha’ nae told anyone.  I guess it dinnae matter much.  Everyone thought, assumed, ye were dead anyway, but some part of me knew I had to make it legal.  For my own peace of mind.  As for Miss Guthrie, who knows?  I might have that opportunity still.”

That stung, but Emmy hid the hurt.  “Will you tell everyone now?”

He turned his serious gaze to hers.  “Do ye want me to?”

Emmy shrugged nonchalantly.  “Everyone thinks we’re living as
husband and wife and probably assume we’re sleeping together.  It would probably scandalize them if they knew we were living in sin.  How long do you mean to go on then?” she wondered.

“Unt
il I decide what to do wi’ ye, I suppose.”

A seductive smile tilted a corner of Emmy’s lips as she looked up at him through lowered lashes.  “What do you want to do with me?”

His silence was broken by a harsh laugh and he grabbed up her hand to press a kiss to her fingers.  “I think ye know verra well what I want to do with ye, my lady!”

Emmy laughed as well, caressing his chin with her thumb before patting his cheek.  “Well, besides that!” she drawled.

“Truthfully… other than that… I really have no idea,” he answered.  “A part of me still wonders if ye have some ulterior motive in being here.”

“And maybe the other half is inclined to believe me?” she
tossed out casually.

He scowled and
pulled back from her.  “No, nae yet.”

Emmy sighed and sat back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest.  “Stubborn!” she huffed.

“Scots,” he answered and she had to fight the twitch that threatened to bring a smile to her face.

She pouted in silence
, ignoring the self-admitted stubborn Scot, and enjoyed the scenery as the waters widened to Loch Linnhe and Duart emerging in the distance.  “How wonderful the castle looks from here!  Oh, it’s beautiful!” she said more to herself than to Connor. The castle rose up from the rocky cliff on its coastal side, showing off its great defenses.  Clearly that was why it had been built just so.  As they sailed past and the perspective rotated, Emmy got the view from the southeast.  The morning sun hit the side of the castle and the mountainous vista behind it was capped in the low clouds.  The landscape around it seemed so barren. 

She watched it until it was out of sight
.  Turning again, she noticed a small piece of rock barely large enough to call an island jutting from the water.  If not for the small lighthouse that marked it, it might have passed unnoticed.  “What is that?” she asked.  “I didn’t notice it on the way here.”

“A
h, interesting story there.” Connor was glad to start a conversation. An uncomfortable silence had begun to envelop them.  “‘Tis the Lady’s Rock.”

“Lady’s Rock,” Emmy repeated.  “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Hundreds of years ago my ancestor, Lachlan Cattenach, who was the laird at the time, stranded his wife Catherine on that wee island because she hadnae yet borne him an heir.”

“Nice.  Just like a man to blame the woman,” she muttered with clear sarcasm.  “Oh, I remember this from the guidebook for the ferry!  The guy ‘accidentally’ left her on the island,” Emmy used air quotes around the word.  “He expected her to get washed
away by the tide because the rock would be underwater at high tide.”

Connor nodded with amusement.  “And when she had disappeared the next morning, my ancestor wrote distraughtly to her brother, the earl of Argyll
, of her death.”

Emmy picked up the story
, sitting forward with a smile.  “And when the laird was invited to Inverary to meet the earl, there was Catherine sitting right next to her brother at the table, saved by a passing fisherman!  I forgot, what happened to the laird?  Did the earl kick his butt?”

Laughing aloud, Connor shook his head.  “Nay, they let him go unharmed
, though a couple of years later he was killed by another of Catherine’s brothers, some say in revenge.”

“Serves him right for trying to kill his wife for something she had no control over. 
I mean, they had other kids, right?  A girl?” she asked.

“I be
lieve so.  Why do ye say she had no control?  If she gave him only lasses…” he dangled the question curiously.

“Gender determination is all on the father, Connor, surely you
know that?”  Her mind raced.  When did they figure that out?  Thinking back to her college courses, Emmy recalled that a woman – she felt a little smile lift her lips at the thought - named Nettie Stevens had discovered the chromosome pairings and their role in deciding the sex of a child.  But that had been in 1905.  Ten years from this time.

“What do ye
mean, all on the father?”  There was a bit of indignation there that amused Emmy a bit.  Male pride never died.

“I am saying the mother has nothing to do with the sex of a baby.  The father is solely responsible for that.”  He snorted in disbelief and Emmy leaned toward him.  “No, it’s true!  Okay, think of it this way,” she held up a closed fist.  “Here’s the egg, in the woman,” she clarified.  “Let’s call that egg,
oh I don’t know, ‘X’.  No matter what, the egg will always be an ‘X’, with me so far?”

He nodded
skeptically and waved her on.

With her other hand, Emmy w
iggled her fingers with a flutter.  “Over here are your little swimmers, the sperm.”  Connor flushed a bit but nodded again while Emmy counted them off with her thumb.  “Here’s sperm ‘X’, this one’s called ‘Y’, then another ‘Y’ and another ‘X’, okay?”  She poked her index finger ‘X’ to her closed fist.  “Mr. ‘X’ sperm hits the egg and we have baby ‘XX’.  Two X’s together and you have a girl.”  She switched fingers and pressed her middle finger to her fist.  “Mr. ‘Y’ sperm gets to the egg first and you get baby “XY’, a boy.  Got it?”

“I believe so.”

Emmy waved her fingers back toward him.  “X or Y it is all in the sperm.  The woman has absolutely nothing to do with the sex of the baby.”

“Nothing?” he
echoed in amazement.

“Nada,” she confirmed.

“How can ye know this?”  He didn’t doubt she was right.  She spoke with such authority and assurance.  He was astounded.

“Biology 101
,” she replied with a shrug.  “It’s pretty much the first thing you learn.  This tendency y’all have of blaming a woman is barbaric.”  She leaned back and picked up her coffee, taking another sip.