A Laird for All Time (9 page)

Emmy
let Chilton take her coat and allowed Connor to take her arm as they went up the stairs and through the hallways to the right wing where the laird’s rooms were.  In silence, they entered their shared sitting room and turned to face each other in silence, aware that they had just spent the past hour in each other’s company holding hands and in pleasant conversation.  There had been no recriminations, no accusations.  Just simple companionship. 

Suddenly Emmy was afraid that she migh
t say something to spoil it all so she started to turn toward her room.  Connor caught her arm and turned her back around.  He stared down at her for a long moment, his dark eyes full of warmth, affection and questions.

“Connor?” she whispered.  “What
…?”

“
Shh.” He raised his hands to cup her still chilly cheeks, warming them in his palms.  His thumbs caressed the soft skin there and stretched farther out to rub lightly along her lips.

Unbidden
, her own hand rose to rub against the abrasive growth of his beard.  Her eyes lit with amusement as she curled her fingers to scratch his cheek much as his beard scratched her.  Expectation raced along her spine and nerves as she stared up into his dark eyes savoring the feel of his thumb against her lower lip, but still he did nothing.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” she asked in a low whisper
.

Connor exhaled a low laugh and rested his
forehead against hers.  “I’m nae certain.”

“Well,” Emmy teased breathlessly, “you
have
already fondled my breasts so I don’t think… mmmph!”

Connor ducked his head and
covered her lips in a deep kiss, catching her up in his arms and pulling her body firmly up against his.  Up on her toes, Emmy stretched both arms up and caught him around his shoulders, threading her fingers into his hair as she went. Their lips met and melded together as heat flared from the contact of their lips down to her toes.  ‘Literally to my toes,’ she thought as she sank into the embrace with a sigh of bliss.  Connor’s firm lips pulled against her lower lip, sucking on it lightly as his palms slid up her sides coming to rest just below her breasts.  He moaned and pulled back slightly and she stared up at him with a shocked expression breathing as heavily as he.  “Wow,” she said simply.

“Indeed
.” He turned her slightly and caught her fully in his arms and kissed her again. Dimly Emmy heard a bell being rung in the distance but dismissed it.  Instead, she parted her lips slightly, inviting him to deepen the kiss more but felt Connor’s retreat even as she did so.  Kissing her lightly one last time, he heaved a sigh heavy with regret.

“Heath
…”

“So, I guess it’s that time when we dress ourselves up and do dinner, huh?”
Emmy jumped in before he said something that might set off her temper.  “Another night of good times and great conversation?”  Connor laughed and Emmy joined him.  “I’ll do my best to keep it civilized,” she assured him.

“See that ye
do,” he joked in return. 

“I guess I’ll see you on the other side?”
  Emmy turned and went into her room unaware that Connor stared at her bedroom door for a long while; unaware of the confusion that rolled through him.

The dress she wore that evening was even lovelier than the one s
he had worn the previous night, Connor thought as Emmy finally entered the drawing room more than an hour later.  He had heard her singing to herself as she bathed and had spent nearly a half an hour at her door listening to her muffled voice and imagining her there.  He had pictured her naked body immersed in the water with bubbles floating about her, caressing her.  Now the robin’s egg blue velvet of her gown clung to her body, accenting all her lovely curves and bringing out the color of her eyes.  His entire body tensed against the onset of arousal as the memory of their too brief kiss rushed into his mind and he wondered how he would make it through the evening without touching her.

“Good evening, Connor,” Emmy greeted him
cheerfully as she crossed the room to his side. With some self-mocking humor, she held out her hand to him and he took it in both of his, raising it to his lips for a lingering kiss. Emmy’s eyes flared but, aware that all eyes were on them once again, pulled her hand back with as much grace as she could muster.  The stares were curious and avidly waiting, no doubt hoping for some sort of public confrontation to liven their evening as it had the night before.  Emmy was determined that it not be so.  She just wanted a pleasant evening in the laird’s company.

Ian and Dory entered together then.  Ian
was in an obviously good humor and Dory all roses and smiles by his side.  “What’s got into them?” Connor wondered aloud.  “I dinnae think I’ve seen that woman smile in years.”

Emmy turned with two glasses of wine she had taken from the footman’s tray and handed one to him.  Examining the bright faces of the married couple, she gave a little laugh and clinked her glass against his before taking a sip.  “They are young and in love, Connor, what do you think has gotten into them?”

He looked at her in confusion and she raised her brow suggestively.  “Surely not!” he said in surprise, casting an assessing glance at his brother and sister-in-law.  “In the middle of the day?”

Emmy snorted indelicately. 
“Like you’ve never had sex in the middle of the day.”

Connor opened his mouth and closed it again.  Have you?  The thought entered his mind and he shook his head in denial.  The question
that had bothered him so greatly the day before burned through him again.  How had she earned her fortune and living while she was gone?  She spoke most freely of sexual intercourse and referred with quite casual indifference to the subject most ladies refrained from even thinking of.  Her kiss was not untutored.  She had made love, he was sure of it.  With whom?  When?  The questions raged in him jealously.

Mistaking his silence as reproach, Emmy apologized
with sincerity.  “I’m sorry; I promised you I would keep the conversation polite tonight, didn’t I?  I don’t mean to upset you.”

Wanting to drive the picture of her in bed with other men from his mind, Connor
changed the subject, asking her instead about the education she received at university.  Pleased that he was interested in getting to the truth, Emmy answered.  “As I mentioned, though I am sure you weren’t really listening at the time, I did my undergraduate work at UVA in Virginia, then did my medical school at Duke.  From there was my residency at Johns Hopkins in Maryland.  I was so pleased to be accepted there.  It’s one of the best hospitals in the country.”

Connor hadn’t understood a couple of the things she had said. 
He didn’t know what a UVA was or of a school called Duke.  “UVA?”

“University of Virginia,” Emmy clarified.  “It was designed to a large degree by Thomas Jefferson, did you know that? 
He did a lot of the buildings and it’s not far from Monticello.  That’s a beautiful place too.  Have you ever been?”

Connor shook his head.  “
I’ve seen illustrations in some books but I wisnae aware that his home was open to the public.  So yer a doctor now?”

“
Yes, OB/GYN,” she answered.  At his puzzled frown, she elaborated.  “Obstetrics and gynecology.  Basically I take care of pregnant women and help them deliver their babies.”

With a sigh of relief, h
e nodded with understanding.  “So yer a midwife.”

Emmy was so offended she nearly choked on her wine.  “A doctor, Connor, don’t ever mistake the two, at least when I am around.”

Connor grinned in amusement.  “Sorry if I offended.”

“You did, but apology accepted.  But that was why I was talking to Ian today,” she explained.  “
Dory’s told me that she’s miscarried several times already and Ian fears another.”

“It does weigh heavily on him,” he concurred
, glancing again at his brother where he stood chatting with a couple of their uncles.  He was very fond of Ian.  They had been close all their lives.  Whatever feelings he might have had regarding his brother’s choice of wife, Connor had truly mourned each of those losses with him.

“Well worrying all the time won’t help, I told them
, and basically told him that they needed to get back in the sack and keep their marriage happy,” she explained.

“Back in the
…?”

Emmy gestured to the couple
noting that Ian’s hand was resting lightly on Dory’s back and absently creeping lower.  Seeing the earl noticed the movement as well, Emmy arched a brow at him significantly.

“Ah
, I see,” Connor said, and indeed he did.  She had nosed in on another person’s personal problem and tried to fix it.  Amazing that most of her solutions were such simple ones.  ‘Let it go’, ‘make love’.  The doctor seemed to give good advice.  The Dory he knew would never allow herself to behave in such an unseemly manner in public.  Yet there she was now cozying up to his brother while he had his hand nearly on her rear.  Incredible.  He said as much to Emmy.

“Dory’s not a bad sort, I think,” Emmy said
eying the couple much as he was.  “Just a bit retentive and OCD about things.”  Feeling his questioning gaze turn to her, she translated: “She’s a control freak.”

Connor laughed out loud freely
, drawing the incredulous looks of his entire family.  “That she is!  That she is! Brilliant! Och, Heather lass, what a corker ye are!”

“Thank you, I think
.” She accepted his praise and sipped her wine, studying him as he reined in his amusement.  The laughter, though it had clearly surprised him, had lit Connor’s face, allowing the years to fall away.  Her eyes caressed his face.  How beautiful he was!  His dark eyes danced with light and humor and his lips still tipped up at the corner showing his white teeth.  “Look at you, Connor,” she whispered.  “For a moment there you looked almost happy.”

He reached out and caressed her cheek with his thumb.  “For a moment there I almost was.”

The butler called the assembly to dinner and the earl cocked his arm to her.  She took it gladly as they moved into the dining room.  “Felt good, didn’t it?”

It did, he thought, looking forward to a meal for the first time in a decade.  It did.

Connor couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed a meal more.  Heather had kept him amused with stories of her time in the Americas.  It seemed she was a ‘big fan’ of baseball, a sport that he knew nothing about.  She related it to cricket and he was able to grasp some of the basic principles of the game.  She enjoyed watching these games in person, she said but preferred football on the ‘TV’.  She made Baltimore sound like the most wondrous place on earth, he thought, and considered that he might enjoy going there with her some time to see all the places she spoke of.

He lingered only briefly over his
whisky, eager to join Heather in the parlor to continue their conversation.  She amused him so completely with her stories and touched him with the depth of her caring for the women she treated.  She had told him how she was joining a new medical practice when she returned from her holiday and Connor had known almost instantly that he didn’t want her to leave again.  He wanted her to stay in Duart permanently… with him.  What did that mean?  Did he really want to try marriage again?  Certainly not!  How utterly appalling to even consider it!

Yet as he entered the parlor and saw her seated at the piano
, concentrating on the piece she was playing, he was not so sure.

He listened to her music
for a moment before wandering over to the piano.  He recognized the tune as ‘Climbing over Rocky Mountain’ from Gilbert and Sullivan’s
The
Pirates of Penzance
, which he had seen in London several years before.  She played the lively tune with spirit and a grin on her face.  Clearly she was enjoying herself.  “Having fun?” he asked, taking a seat next to her on the bench.

Emmy had watched him saunter over with a relaxed half-smile on his face where only moments before a nearly horrified expression had taken hold.  She wondered what he had been thinking about, but didn’t dare ask.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant.  “I am,” she answered his question as she reached the end of the piece.  “How did you like it?”

“Verra well done,” he complimented sincerely. “Ye play with spirit and joy.”

“Six years of lessons.”

“I saw that opera when it opened at the Opera Comique in London.”

“Did you?  Lucky you.”  She tickled out a few notes
, feeling slightly envious.  “I just love musical theater and a good show tune.  I’ve taken the train up to New York a few times to see some shows.  Saw
Wicked
a few months ago.  It was wonderful.”

“Cannae
say I ha’ heard of that one.”

“No,” she sighed
, her earlier depression slipping back over her at the reminder of where she was. “I don’t imagine that you have.” 
Well, of course he hadn’t!

She seemed so
morose for a moment that Connor scooted closer to her and took her hand in his.  “Are ye all right then?”

Emmy gave him a half-smile and shrugged. “Just a little homesick, I guess.  Do you want me to play something else for you?”

Allowing her to change the subject, Connor affirmed and watched as she stared at the ceiling for a moment before she launched into a slower melody.  “Ye’re good, ye know,” he offered.  “I dinnae even know ye played.”

“Mm
-hmm,” she responded in time to the music.  “And the guitar, too.  Mom always insisted that music developed good math skills.  She had read some study on that years ago and thought better safe than sorry.”

“
I’ve ne’er heard of any such thing.”  He listened to her play for several minutes, watching her hands as they moved lightly over the keys.  “Ye two must have been particularly close.”

“I miss her every day,” Emmy admitted.  “It’s hard not having any family left.
”

“Ye
ha’ Dory,” he corrected.

Emmy glanced over at her ‘twin’ sister who was almost giggling as Ian whispered in her ear.  She made a noncommittal ‘
humph’ and shrugged a shoulder. “You are lucky, though, to have so much family around.”

“Ian is a good friend and a good brother,” Connor hedged.

“But the rest never even talk to you,” she finished for him, giving him a sidelong glance as she continued to play.  “It’s because they’re scared of you, you know?”

“Scared of me?” he asked in surprise
, looking about the room before meeting her amused eyes.

“Sure, big angry guy who holds their existence in the palm of his hand.  Never smiles, never talks to them either,” she continued.  “They’re all terrified that you are going to turn them out or cut of
f their allowance or something.  It’s all they ever talk about.”

“
Is that so?” he asked as he looked around the room.  Everyone’s eyes suddenly had somewhere else to look though he knew they had all been watching him a moment before.

Emmy noticed and smirked.  “See?”

“Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?”
She rolled into the chorus of the tune.  “You could try talking to them every once in a while, you know.  Just so they know that you are human and aren’t going to drink their blood while they sleep,” she teased and raised her elbow to point across the room.  “Your aunt Millie, for instance, has a hip that nags her persistently.  And your uncle, Robert, I think, has problems with his arthritis.”  When he gave a short snort, Emmy laughed.  “Well, it is what they talk about when they are not talking about you.”

“I think my estate manager keeps me sufficiently informed regarding everyone’s status,” he chuckled.

Emmy tilted her head, considering.  “You’re right.  Your way might be best.”  She flowed from ‘Once Upon a Dream’ from
Sleeping Beauty
into ‘The Music of the Night’ from
Phantom of the Opera.

“What is that?” he asked after listening for a moment
to the dark music.  “I thought myself well versed in opera, but I dinnae recognize it.”

Emmy’s fingers came down on the keys
discordantly as she halted, startling the others in the room.  “Perhaps someone else would like a turn for a bit?” she said to the room in general.  She pushed back from the piano and stood, as did Connor although she veered around him and headed for the door.

“Heather,” he called
, following her.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” she answered as she started up the stairs away from him
. He followed, catching up with her easily at the top since he was unencumbered by heavy skirts.  “I’m just tired, Connor, I just want to go to bed,” Emmy lied, avoiding his eyes.

“Nay, that’s
nae it, nae at all.”  Connor caught her arm and pulled her down the hall to the privacy of their sitting room before he turned her toward him.  “Tell me what is bothering ye.”

“This!  All of this!” she yelled
, waving her hands around her.  “You!”

“What about me?” he asked softly.

“You don’t know the
Phantom of the Opera
, Connor!” she cried, unable to express herself more clearly.

“I certainly can see it, if ye
like.”  He tried to grasp what her outburst was about but could not think of anything that had set her off.

“No!”
She wrapped her hands around her skull and groaned in frustration.  “You can’t, Connor.  There is no chance in your entire lifetime that you’ll see it!”  She turned and stared up at a painting over the fireplace.  “This is ridiculous,” she whispered more to herself than to him.  “It’s not real. Why am I here?  I shouldn’t be here! I should never have come here.”  She wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to swallow the hysterical sob that welled up in her.  She failed and another sob soon followed the first, then another and another.

Connor turned her into his arms and held her tightly as she cried into his shoulder, clinging to him desperately.  He had no idea why she was crying but only knew he could not stand to see her so upset.  Still he did not know how to f
ix it at all.  “Tell me what ye want me to do, sweeting, and I will try to do it.”

She
hiccupped a laugh.  “Just like a guy - always wanting to fix the problem. I don’t think you can this time, though.”  She realized how close she was to him then, how warm, and stepped back, wiping her eyes.  “I just shouldn’t be here.  I want to go home and I’m scared I’ll never get there.”

Connor narro
wed his eyes irritably.  “If ye dinnae want to be here, then why did ye come?  Why did ye ever come back?”

C
aressing his cheek lightly, Emmy shook her head ruefully.  “Don’t get your back up, Connor.  To use a horrible cliché, it isn’t you, it’s me.  You just wouldn’t understand.”

Biting back his frustration, h
e covered his hand with his and looked down into her bright blue eyes.  “Then tell me,” he insisted, “and I’ll try.”

Emmy stared up into his warm dark eyes and tried to pull together a reasonable thought.  “I think I’m afraid, Connor.”

“Afraid of what?”  He cupped her cheeks in his hands and rested his forehead against hers.

Emmy savored the feeling of his hands on her face and the heat of his
nearness.  She closed her eyes and swayed closer to him.  “You.”

“Me?” he whispered.

“I’m afraid of the way you make me feel,” she admitted.  “There was a moment down there that I was actually content with where I was.  I’m afraid that if I stay here too long, I might never want to leave.”

“And I’m afraid that ye
will want to leave,” he responded. His thick brogue deepened seductively.  “Ye are a completely different person now.”

“You have no idea,” she snorted
but was unable to look away.

“Every moment I
am wi’ ye I want to touch ye.” Connor stroked her cheek and continued down her neck.  “I want to kiss ye.”

Compelled by his words and the power of his voice
with its alluring burr, Emmy leaned in and raised her lips as his mouth came down to meet hers lightly.  His lips brushed her top lip, then the bottom before they caught hers  passionately.  Emmy gasped then returned the kiss fully, parting her lips for him and catching his lower lip between hers and running her tongue across it. 

Their mouths played
ardently, desperately meeting time and again.  Emmy clung to him, digging her nails into his back as desire overwhelmed her.  He backed her to the chaise and lowered her down without breaking the kiss.  Keeping their lips together, he shrugged off his jacket while, with heavy eyelids, Emmy worked his tie.  He pushed her dress off her shoulder, moving his lips down to her neck. He found a particularly sensitive spot that pulled a deep moan from Emmy as he cupped her breasts, and then another  just below her ear, causing her to shudder as she clung to his shoulders savoring the feel of his thick muscles below her hands.

“
Oh, Lord,” she moaned as his lips traveled lower.

“I love ye
r breasts,” he whispered huskily.  “So perfect.  So lovely.”

“
People used to say,” she panted, “that more than a handful was a waste.”

His deep brogue rumbled near
her ear, “I ha’ big hands.”

“Oh, Connor!” she pulled him down over her
, reveling in his weight as he pulled her bodice lower, exposing a breast.  His lips fastened over the nipple, nipping and licking before drawing it into his mouth.  He lingered there, suckling deeply as his other hand traveled up her skirts, teasing along her ankle and calf and then the garter that held her stockings up. He stroked her bare thigh and moved higher, meeting her nearly bare bottom. 

“What do ye
ha’ on?” he murmured as he fingered the lace edge of her panties.

“What?” What was he talking about?

“I ha’ to see,” he whispered and knelt between her legs, pulling her skirts high.  He ran a big hand up either thigh pushing the skirts and petticoats as he went.  Her thighs were long and smooth and where there would have been pantalets and drawers on any other lady of his acquaintance he found only a scrap of ivory satin and lace.  Intrigued, he ran his fingers under the edge.  “This is… fascinating,” he whispered, leaning over to press a kiss just below the edge of the lace.

“Why?”

“They cover nothing,” he whispered, pressing more kisses to her inner thigh.  He groaned and ran his hands up inside the panties, cupping her bottom.  “They bring all kinds of thoughts to my mind.”

“Like what?” she whispered
, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Like what ye
would look like wearing nothing but this.” His accent was so thick Emmy could barely understand him.  She wondered, as similar scenarios flowed through her mind, if lust could make a man forget how to even speak.

“Help me take off the dress then,” she offered
breathlessly, “and you can see.”

Connor drew back and his dark gaze penetrated hers full of
need.  Pushing back he rose and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet.  Her mind was abuzz with want and she felt dizzy as she stood.  She wavered for a moment before finding her balance.  “I want to see you too, Connor.  Take off your shirt.”  Obligingly he loosened the top buttons and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside.  Emmy ran both hands up his broad chest as he shuddered under her touch.  She marveled over the heavy muscles that rippled and flexed under her hands. She ran her fingertips over the dark hairs that sprinkled his chest, feeling their rough texture.  His skin was hot. “Mmm,” she hummed in appreciation.