A Laird for All Time (15 page)

“Did you go to college, Connor?  I mean university?”

He nodded and sat back.  “Indeed I did.  Cambridge.”

“What did you study?”

“Business and land management, of course, as well as science, history and art,” was his answer.

“So you consider yourself an educated man?  A contemporary thinker?”

“I suppose I do,” he replied warily, not knowing where she was going.

“What are your thoughts on women’s rights?”  At his frown, she scoured her mind.  “Suffrage.  I’m sure they are up to that already
…umm, here, in Scotland,” she added that last on as an afterthought.

“Oh, aye, the suffrage movement.  Ye do hear a bit of it in Glasgow and London,” he admitted.  “So far, it
hasnae gained much ground.”

“Well, what do you think about it?  About women having the right to vote?  For it or against it?”  She peered at him over the rim of her cup with a narrowed gaze that had him rethinking his impulsive response.

He wasn’t about to tell her that he had been against the idea.  Not when she was looking at him like that, with daggers in her eyes.  “There some women who…most women…” he hedged then scratched his chin and admitted, “I’m nae sure I have a good answer for ye on that subject, lassie.  Most of the women I know…well, I wouldnae trust them with a vote.  They just aren’t aware of the issues and what is best for the country.”

“Because they are women or because they aren’t educated on the facts?”

Connor considered that clarification against the women he knew and conceded: “Mostly because they dinnae care to make themselves aware, I suppose.”

“So education is key, then?  What if I wanted to vote?  Would that be all right?”  Her gaze was so straightforward and assessing, so intelligent
, that in that moment Connor felt he would trust her judgment, or at least consider it thoughtfully on almost any subject. 

“Aye, I would trust yer vote to be well thought o
ut.  Ye’re intelligent and dinnae seem the sort to make a decision based on emotion alone,” he admitted and was pleased when she blessed him with a wide smile.

“Thank you, Connor, that means a lot to me.”

“I’ve ne’er known a woman who has had as much education as ye ha’,” he added.  “It’s unusual and rare.  Most women . . .”

“Don’t blow the moment, Connor,” she said softly, patting his hand before settling back in her chair.

They sat in silence for a long while after that.  Unlike their previous silence, this was companionable, not uncomfortable as long silences could be.  They enjoyed the scenery as they came to the mouth of Loch Spelve, where they turned to the left towards the mainland of Scotland.  Occasionally Connor would point out a landmark or point of interest, or Emmy would offer comment or praise on the landscape or view.  He took her hand in his at one point and simply held it for a long time and Emmy stared down at their joined hands wondering if life could ever truly be so contented.  Simple….hmm.

Soon they reached the southern point of Kerrera, a narrow island between Mull and the mainland and moved north up its sound to Oban.  They docked in Oban for lunch.  The restaurant Connor chose was ironically right across from where her hotel should have been, or would be someday.  Emmy stared out the window at the building that occupied that spot now, a livery stable that was a far cry from the
four-story hotel that would eventually be there. 

Pondering her situation thoughtfully while she chewed, Emmy was again questioning what she wanted from her life.  Sometimes, it seemed she had been here in this time for weeks instead of days.  Other than the clothing and wondering what was happening on her favorite TV shows, she did not truly miss anything from her own time.  Oh, that time would come; she was sure it would happen right about the same time that her confidence in her DVR would give way to bigger issues.  But for the moment she was strangely comfortable, content and not at all in a rush to return to her own time and place.

So what had Donell meant?

“Ye’ve been terribly quiet and thoughtful today,” Connor commented at length
, after watching her stare blankly out of the window for some time.  “What is working on yer mind?”

Thinking it might be a good time to bring it up, Emmy answered his question with one of her own.  “Do you ever think about the future, Connor?”

“Of course, everyone does.”

“No, I don’t mean like next month or next year,” she corrected.  “I am talking about the far future, say a century from now.  Don’t you ever wonder what it will be like?”

Pointing his fork at her, he chuckled.  “Ye’ve been reading Jules Verne, have you?”

“Jules Verne?  Oh, like
‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’…or better ‘From the Earth to the Moon?’” she added with a snap of her fingers.  “Okay, let’s start there.  Do you think that man will ever be able to fly to the moon?”

Sensing she was serious in her question, he took a moment to con
sider the possibility.  “I dinnae ken.  Invention has changed much in just the last ten or fifteen years.  There are inventions being developed every day that change the way we live.  I hear that much of London and New York and other large cities are lit by electric lights now.  Telephones are being put in many homes in Glasgow.  We ne’er would ha’ dreamed of such a thing ten years ago.  The automobile!  Have ye ever seen one?  I saw a race in London last year.  It was incredible.”

“I might have seen one
, once or twice.”  She twisted her lips to stop a smile.  “You’re open-minded enough then to see the possibilities of the future?”

Connor looked offended.  “I am an educated man.”

Emmy held up a hand.  “I know you are, don’t get your back up.  But let’s go a little further.  What if the technology of the telephone, for example, advanced so much in a century that everyone had one of their own?  Not just a telephone in their homes, but one small enough to be held in your palm and be used without wires or cords of any kind?  Could you see that happening?”

“It is nearly unimaginable, but perhaps if science progressed so much,” he allowed, enjoying that the lass challenged him with conversation beyond the weather or business of the earldom.  Such an unusual woman she was!

“Let’s go even further then.”  She thought for a moment.  “How about H. G. Wells?  Have you read ‘The Time Machine’?”

“Just a few months ago, as a matter of fact.  It was just published this year.”  He was surprised that she had read it.  It was not a genre of books any of the ladies of his acquaintance would ever dream of reading.  Most women read novels or fashion magazines.  There wasn’t one
in his household that had ever ventured into the library in search of intellectually stimulating materials.  But this woman was different in almost every way from the women he was familiar with.  That much was already clear.

“What did you think of it?”

“I thought it was well written…”

“No, no,” she corrected in exasperation.  “Not the writing or even the story.  What did you think of the premise of the book?  About time travel itself?”

“It’s fiction, my dear,” he reminded her, wondering not only at her question but at the intensity with which she asked it.

“This from a man who just moments ago conceded that travel to the moon might be possible someday?”  She tutted lightly.  “That was fiction, too, Mr. Educated Man.  Look at this with those same eyes.”

“But there is no scientific basis for time travel,” he argued, “whereas travel to space could be seen as the progression of current science.”

“There is no scientific basis
yet
,” she corrected firmly.  “What if I were to tell you, right now, that I am from the future, have seen the future, and time travel will be possible someday, far beyond your lifetime, what would you do?”

“Lock you up in Bedlam?” he responded with a laugh.  She didn’t join him.

“Surprisingly narrow-minded of you, Connor.”

He reached across the table and took her hand, patting it. “Come, my dear, be serious.  There a
re just some things that are nae realistic even in the far future.”

Emmy gritted her teeth at the patronizing pat and opened her mouth to retaliate but changed her mind, deciding now was not the time to argue the point.  The laird hadn’t even been able to accept that she wasn’t Heather MacLean yet.  How could she expect him to swallow the idea of time travel so quickly
, when she wasn’t entirely sure she believed in it herself, despite her current situation?  Instead she applied herself to finishing her lunch, a nicely done roast beef with potatoes, or ‘tatties’ as Connor called them, and veggies.  Comfort food for a cool fall day.  She felt much better when she was finished.

When they were done, Connor tucked Emmy’s hand into the crook of his arm as they walked slowly back to the waterfront.  “Yer fingers are getting cold.”

“I left the gloves on the boat.  I’ll be fine when we get there.”  However, the sound was choppy on the return trip and the temperature had dropped dramatically.  Shivering, Emmy accepted Connor’s urging to remain below, near the stove and out of the winds without argument.  By the time they docked in Craignure, Emmy would have wagered the temperature was near freezing and the clouds were definitely threatening rain.

The rain began in earnest during the sickening drive back to Duart.  Emmy could see ice crystals in the drops as they splattered on the carriage windows. 

The carriage swayed and jolted even more with the buffeting winds and icy rain pounding against the side.  She was weak with motion sickness and drenched when they made it through the courtyard and into the castle.  Exhausted, she leaned against the wall in the hall, stripping off the wet coat and gloves, and wishing she could drop the sodden, heavy skirts and petticoats right there as well.

“I will call Margo to draw a hot bath for ye,” Connor offered, not liking the pal
e color of her cheeks.  “I dinnae want ye to take a chill.”

“A bath sounds wonderful, but I can do it myself.  Don’t bother Margo,” she begged.  “I gave her the day off to spend with her mom; apparently she hasn’t been feeling well.”

“At least allow me to help ye to yer room.”  He took her arm solicitously, but Emmy would have none of that.

“I am not an invalid, Connor.”  She shook him off and straightened determinedly.  “I can certainly haul my cookies up one set of stairs,” she muttered as she set off up the sweeping staircase.

“Cookies?” Connor repeated as she took the stairs.  What were a person’s cookies?  Surely he would never understand her slang.

Once in her bathroom, Emmy started the water and stripped off her soaked clothing.  Immediately she  felt better just shedding the icy clothing.  Stepping close to the tub, she toweled her arms and legs over the heat of the steaming water, warming herself at the same time.

Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she filled up the sink as well, thinking to hand-wash her bra and underwear before she soaked in the tub.  Her white silk blouse had gone to the laundress the previous day only to come back an interesting shade of yellowed ivory.  Obtaining a more gentle soap from Margo, Emmy had taken it upon herself to preserve her only real bra and underwear.  A day in pantalets the previous day had shown her that such a bulky feeling wasn’t for her!  So she washed her bra and panties at night in the little sink, leaving the delicate undergarments to hang dry overnight, although she couldn’t expect them to last long under such abuse.

Poking through her tote bag while the water ran, Emmy pulled out her iPhone and earphones and pushed the little buds into her ears while scrolling for a playlist of relaxing music.  She missed the music of her time.  Usually she had those white cords coming out of her ears all day long.  Music just made her happy.  Humming along, she propped the iPhone on the side of the sink as she swished soap into the warm water.  Tim McGraw and Faith Hill’s ballad
‘Let’s Make Love’ was playing.  Emmy undeniably felt the message in that song.  Wriggling out of her camisole, she started to sing along.

Connor entered her room to check on her, despite her declaration that she could take care of herself.  He heard her voice and paused outside the bathing room, thinking she was talking to someone.  No, she was singing softly to herself again as she had the previous day.  Sneaking a look around the corner, he was captivated by the sight of her.  She was facing away from him as she pulled her short silk shift up, exposing the long line of her back.  Over her head it went and into the sink.  She fiddled with something for a moment, her long hair unbound to her waist and swinging from side to side as she tossed her head first one way then the other.  She turned slightly, giving him a glimpse of her tantalizing silhouette.  Her full breasts were encased in a white lace contraption he was unfamiliar with, but stirred by. She was again wearing that wee bit of lace that barely covered the luscious curve of her buttocks.  The sight of it aroused him easily.  Her legs were long and muscular, her stomach flat.  Her long hair, swinging across her back and shoulders was like a caress he could actually feel.  He had not seen it down before and  was captivated by its gleaming length.

As she reached up behind her to unclasp the lacy covering from her breasts, the well-toned muscles in her stomach and back flexed.  She was a healthy lass
, to be sure, and there was no denying the beauty and appeal of her body.

She dropped that garment into the sink before her hands next slid into the top of her lower piece of clothing.  Emmy pushed it down, exposing a colorful scrolling of loops and spirals on her skin starting just at the top of her buttocks and twisting up her spine.  A tattoo?  Where would she have gotten a tattoo?  Why would she have done that?  It was hypnotically entrancing though.  It made him want to kiss it or follow its trail with his tongue.  Perhaps that
was the point.  He scowled as the wondering and jealousy roared to life within him again.  Had other men thought that very same thing when seeing it?

The words ‘make love’ drew his attention to her song as she kicked off the lower garment and scooped it up to toss it in the sink as well. “’Do you know what you do to me?’” she crooned softly, almost under her breath.  “’Everything inside of me is wanting you, needing you.  I’m so in love with you.’”  She sang this last with such heartfelt feeling that it caused a gripping ache in his chest.  “’Look in my eyes, let’s get lost tonight
…in each other.  Let’s make love, all night long until all our strength is gone.  Hold on tight, just let go.  I want to feel you in my soul.  Until the sun comes up…let’s make love.’”

Connor needed no further invitation beyond her softly sung appeal; the words and the way she voiced them incited undeniable lust in him.  Approaching her from behind, he slid his hand around her ribcage and cupped her breasts from behind.  Burying his face in her hair, his lips fastened on the side of her neck.  She squealed in shock and surprise, leaping away from him.  “Connor!  What are you doing in here?”

Emmy nearly tripped on the cord of her ear buds as they were jerked out of her ears.  The phone landed with a thud on the floor in her haste to back away as she scooped up a towel and held it against her breasts.  The final tones of the country song dissolved with a tinny farewell as the headphone jack was pulled out of the phone. 

“I wanted to make sure ye were feeling b
etter.  I knocked but ye dinnae answer,” he said blithely, approaching her in what could only be defined as a predatory manner.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“That was obvious.” Connor followed her as she skirted the edge of the room.  “Yer song was quite…moving.”  He cornered her before she reached the door.  “The words were most provocative.  Was that yer intention?  Och lass, give over, will ye?  I want ye so verra, verra much.”  His big hand cupped her shoulder as he bent his head to softly nuzzle her lips before sliding down the curve of her back to cup her buttocks.  “I maun ha’ ye.”

With a moan, Emmy flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed her body fully against him.  This was just no time to be prudish.  She wanted him badly herself and his tender plea utterly did her in.  “Oh, Connor!  Okay, okay
…you win,” she sighed against his lips before capturing them in a hot kiss.

He groaned in triumph and defeat.  Wrapping his arms around her waist he raised her up against him, devouring her mouth over and over.  He pressed her up against the wall and Emmy’s legs came up of their own accord to wrap around his waist.  Her surrender brought a shaky breath from Connor.  “Och, lassie, ye make me tremble like a schoolboy,” he confessed, surprising himself because it was profoundly true.  His arms were trembling, his breath shallow and uneven, very much like a lad with his first woman.  He felt so blessed yet so eager.

Emmy marveled in his size and strength as he held her easily against the wall.  She felt petite and desirable.  She had never felt so before.  Already her breath was coming rapidly, her belly tightening with promise and he hadn’t even touched her yet.  His lips left hers to fasten again on her neck, sucking and biting lightly.  She cried out as the passion overwhelmed her.  “Oh, Connor!  Now! Now!”  She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, urging him to hurry.

Connor broke away slightly to look down into her face.  Her eyes were unfocused, her cheeks flushed.  Never had he imagined that she felt this
overwhelming passion as deeply as he.  “Och, my love!  Ye precious lassie!” 

Still carrying her, he walked into the
bedchamber and placed her on the bed.  Pulling his shirt over his head in a fluid motion and losing his trousers in equally short order, he lowered himself over her.  His arms shook from the force of his want and lust.  “I dinnae know how long I can wait, lassie.  I feel as if I ha’ wanted ye forever.”

“Then don’t wait.”  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his weight down on her.

Still, he managed to find the strength to refrain from pouncing on her like a callow lad, Connor’s lips instead found her breast and suckled deeply on her nipple, drawing a cry and a moan from her.  She wound her long legs around his waist and urged him closer with her muscled thighs while her hands roamed his chest and shoulders, before skimming lower to massage his buttocks.  Determined to prolong the moment, he drew back to make space for his fingers to travel down her belly and down farther still. 

She gasped as he touched first the inside of her thigh before heading upwards.  She was hot and damp already as his fingers circled the sensitive nub there
, before dipping inside.  With a moan, she thrust her hips up to meet his hand as he stroked her again and again.  Her thighs shook with tension and she clutched his shoulders.  “Connor,” she moaned.

He caught her lips again in a probing kiss as he reared back and drove into her in a single thrust.  A deep throaty cry escaped her lips before she deepened their kiss and urged him onward.  Praying for control, Connor withdrew and plunged deeply again and again.  Her hands ran down his back again as her legs climbed higher around his waist.  She hung on tightly as he found a rhythm that pleased them both.  Her inner muscles clenched around his length nearly driving him mad.  She murmured over and over between kisses, “Oh
God, oh God!”  He shifted position, hooking his arm under one thigh to change the angle of his thrusts, and her breathing changed.

The tension was building in Emmy’s center as she reveled in the power of Connor’s lovemaking.  He was so large and muscular.  She loved the feel of his heavy arms around her, his weight bearing down on her.  The hairs on his chest rubbed against her nipples, arousing tingles in the sensitive peaks.  She had never imagined sex could be so thrilling!  Normally, it was almost a chore following foreplay, but she had wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her.  Then he shifted, drawing her leg up higher and pulling his chest up to change the angle of his thrusts and, with that
, a new feeling struck Emmy’s core. 

She drew in a short, shocked breath as a new ache built deep inside her.  Not painful by any means, but almost like a pleasurable cramp that reached out with its fingers across her abdomen and radiated down her inner thighs.  She grew tighter and tighter, until a feeling of near panic overtook her.  “Connor?” she panted
, opening her eyes in confusion, uncertain what was happening and feeling a need to deny it.  “No, no,” she moaned.

Connor looked down at the confusion in her eyes and lowered his head to kiss her once more.  “Just let it happen, my love, let it come,” he urged.

Then it did; the ache built almost painfully and broke in waves of ecstasy that flooded hotly through her.  Her muscles contracted rhythmically around his erection as he plunged once again to her core and cried out his own release.  He gathered her against him and drove in one last time before holding her close.  The spasms continued for a while, decreasing in intensity until Emmy relaxed against him and savored his weight above her.

She closed her eyes in wonder.  She thought she had had orgasms before, usually during foreplay when in the company of a considerate lover but she had never felt one during intercourse.  Oh, she had enjoyed the act and had found it pleasurable, but nothing in her experience could compare with this
…this shared moment of release and bliss.  Emmy turned her head and kissed the side of his neck.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

Connor chuckled and rolled on to his back
, pulling her with him until she was nestled against his side.  “Nay, my lady, thank ye.”

Emmy slapped his sweaty chest playfully and tugged on the chest hairs there.  He had a magnificent chest.  Thick and muscular with deep, sinewy lines and definition.  In fact his whole body was like that.  Large and
…she giggled as she included another aspect of his anatomy in the description.  She raised her head to look down before returning to the pillow of his chest.  Yup, definitely large and…everything.  His hand cupped the back of her head and stroked her hair in a comforting fashion.

After a long, languid silence, the wind and rain slapped against the windows, reminding Emmy where she was.  Raising her head, she looked up to see him watching her.  His dark eyes were warm but wary despite the coziness of their embrace.

“What?” she asked, although she had an idea what he was thinking.  He didn’t take long to prove her correct.