A Laird for All Time (16 page)

“Ye were
nae virgin.”  It was not an accusation as much as an observation.

“I think we already discussed that,” she said softly, so as not to provoke him.

“Did ye ha’ to sell yerself to survive?”

The question was voiced with such anguish that Emmy could not be angry with him.  “I already told you that I have never taken money for sex.  I hope you will believe that.”

He conceded with a nod.  “So ye took lovers then?”

“I have had lovers, yes.”  He tensed but she kept her eyes locked with his.  “So have you, I’d wager.  Do not be a hypocrite, Connor.  We are both adults here.”

The question tortured him.  He didn’t want to know, but he had to.  “But how many?” 

Emmy rolled away from him with a groan.  Impossible man!  Why would he ruin the moment like that?  Rising to her feet, she padded naked to where her robe hung and slipped her arms into the sleeves  before turning back to the man on her bed. 

The sight of her relaxed nudity captivated Connor as she stood and moved to the end of the bed.  She was so comfortable with herself.  That confidence had its own appeal, as did her long legs and ample breasts…

Emmy leaned down over him and ran a hand up his chest, whispering seductively.  “Come on, Connor.  You’re ruining the moment.  Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing?”

The temptation was strong, Connor admitted to himself as he stared at her body, half-exposed through the gaping gown.  He groaned and reached up to cup the beautiful breasts before him.  With a smile, Emmy spread the gown and straddled his lap before leaning in to kiss him.  “Isn’t this better than fighting?”

“I dinnae
want to fight with ye, my love.”  He drew back and met her eyes seriously.  “But I need an answer to my question.  How many?”

“God, Connor!” she huffed.  “Does it really matter?  You’re not a virgin, neither am I.  Why does the number matter?”

He cupped her cheeks and forced her to meet his eyes.  “It tortures me, this image of ye wi’ another man.  I hate that another has had ye when I want ye to be only mine.”

Emmy stared down at him at this fierce confession.  “Only yours, huh?”  She caressed his cheek.  The man really did know how to make a woman feel special.  His eyes were hot and possessive; his hands had moved to grip her hips tightly against him.  In spite of his denial, she could feel him hard once again beneath her.  It wasn’t such a huge thing to answer him, she decided.  At least if she did, they might be able to get beyond it, move past it.

“Fine.  Four,” she answered truthfully.

“Four lovers!” he repeated with a frown.

Emmy rolled her eyes.  “I will ask again, how many have you had?  It’s not an incredibly large number given my age.  I am twenty-eight after all.  Many women I know have slept with many more than that.”

“Was the first someone I would know?  Someone here?”

Emmy gave a short laugh.  “Definitely not.  The first was Andy Johnson.  It was during my senior year of high school in the basement of his house during halftime of the NFC play-offs.  It was brief, uncomfortable and thoroughly forgettable.  I don’t know that we ever even went out again after that.  It was incredibly disappointing.”

“Did ye
nae love these men then?”

“At the time, I would have said I did.”  Emmy crawled off him and gathered the dressing gown around herself, knotting it tightly.  The moment was clearly over for now.  There had been a guy the first two years of medical school on and off  that she would have labeled as a ‘friend with benefits’, but she wasn’t about to explain that concept to him.  He would never understand it even if he had had more casual sex than she ever dreamed of.  She went to the fireplace and took the poker, jabbing at the coals to stir them to life in the cold room.  She wondered if this would be the end of it for them if he could not accept her lack of innocence.

Connor took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face.  Four men.  Four faceless men that had had this woman who had been his wife at the time.  Had she ever considered that while she was taking her lovers?  Had she gone to the first without a second thought for him?  Knowing that she was giving away that which should have been his and his alone?  Rage and jealousy filled him against this man who had taken her innocence without any thought for her pleasure.  Still, she was right.  He’d had many more lovers than she and as recently as several months before, while on business in London.  Was he the hypocrite she accused him of being in holding her affairs against her?

“Four.”  He said it aloud.  Testing it.

“Willingly, yes,” she responded and then winced, clapping a hand over her mouth.  Well, she hadn’t meant
that
to come out.

“What do you mean ‘willingly’?”  He rose and turned her to face him, gripping her upper arms.  The poker clattered to the floor.

Emmy hedged in hesitant embarrassment.  She had never told anyone about that before.  She should not be ashamed, but she was.  She didn’t know why she had admitted it to Connor of all people, but there was just something about him that made her want to talk to him.  To let him know her…all of her.  “Well, there was an incident my sophomore year of college.” 

She lowered her eyes away from him but, with a finger on her chin, he compelled her gaze to return to his.  “Ye were ravished?  Against your will?”

“’Date rape’ they call it these days.  Slipped me a Mickey and took advantage of me while I was passed out.”  She closed her eyes against the humiliating memory.  “I woke up half way through to find him on top of me and tried to fight him off, but I was out of it.  I was so bruised after and he joked to all his friends about it.  It was awful.  Worst part was that I knew him.  We had several classes together.  He had asked me out a couple times but I never did like him and he knew it.”

“I will kill him,” Connor threatened with real rage.  “Tell me where to find him.”

Amazed, Emmy chuckled at his protectiveness.  “My knight in shining armor.”

He cradled her face between his hands.  “My love, I am sorry yer flight from me resulted in such a painful incident for ye.”

“Wow,” she breathed in surprise, raising her brows.  “That is so…compassionate of you.  What, no recriminations?  No saying that I brought it on myself?  Most of the men I know would think so.”

“No woman deserves to be so ill-treated at the hands of a man.”

“Unwilling sex you forgive, but the four I chose you don’t,” she mused and caressed his cheek before placing a light kiss there.  “I have never told anyone about that before.  I don’t know why I told you.  I have always been afraid that people would give me that look that said it was my own fault.”

“The only fault that can be laid at yer
feet would be that if ye had ne’er left it would nae ha’ happened at all,” he chided.

“Connor,” she sighed, regretfully pulling away from him.  “Enough of this.  I know that some small part of you must realize that I am not Heather.  Admit it.”

He shook his head and turned, searching for his pants and pulling them on.  “Ye ha’ changed, beyond any doubt.  Ye are in many ways, a completely different person from the woman I knew, but yer appearance on that day of all days?  And look at ye!  I cannae look at ye and believe that ye are anyone else.  It might be possible for two women on this earth to look the same but three?  Impossible.”

“You are going to have to accept it sooner or later, Connor.  Honestly I think you already have, but are denying it for reasons of your own.”  She turned back to the revived fire and stared down into the flames. 

As silence reigned, Emmy turned back to him and pressed on softly.  “You haven’t called me by that name since the night before last when we almost…made love.  You call me ‘my lady’ and ‘my dear’ but not Heather.  Do you even think of me by that name anymore?  Just say it one time, Connor.”  She reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek looking up at him with pleading eyes.  “Say Emmy.  Call me by my own name.”

“What did ye
expect when ye came here?  That I would welcome ye wi’ open arms?” he said, evading her quiet plea, pulling away once again and sitting on the edge of the bed as he rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation.  “Are things nae turning out the way ye thought and ye want to leave?  If ye can convince me ye are nae Heather, then I ha’ no hold on ye.  Is that it?  Is that what yer insistence is all about?”  The question was impulsive, but he was not certain he wanted to hear the answer.  He dared not look at her as dread filled him.

Did she want to leave?  It was the question that had been plaguing Emmy since she had seen Donell that morning.  It was a question that was getting harder and harder to answer easily.  Her future as she had always imagined it or a life here?  And was that even a choice?  She had come here suddenly, what was to stop her from being snapped back to her own time without warning?  On the whim of an old wizard or whatever he was?  Did she have a choice in her destiny?  She wasn’t even sure, so did it matter what she wanted?  She didn’t know.  She knelt on the floor before him and urged him to look at her.

“What I want has nothing to do with your insane insistence that I am Heather,” she argued, loath to think any longer about her dilemma.  “You have already admitted that you’ve
gotten a divorce.  Even if I was Heather I could leave at anytime, don’t you realize that?  What other benefit is there for you if I am Heather?”

I have a chance to keep ye, he thought, grasping her hands in his.  If she was Heather, there was a tie between them however tenuous.  As long as she was Heather, he had justification to keep her here - if not for himself, then for her sister.  If he conceded she might not be Heather, she had every right to walk out the door if she wished, just as she said, and his hold on her already felt too fragile.  How could he exp
lain that to her?  “If ye’re nnae, why ha’ ye nae left already?”

She had nowhere else to go but it went deeper than that.  She didn’t want to leave him.  She wanted to stay with him, near him - at least for the time being.  If he wanted her, she wanted him to want her for herself.  Emmy wanted him to know that he wanted Emmy not Heather. 

“This thing between us, Connor, this chemistry,” she fumbled for the words, “it is worth exploring, isn’t it?  I am staying for this, because of us.  But I am not Heather, I swear to you, and if you want me to leave because of that alone, I will go.  If you want me to go, tell me now.”

Connor looked down at her lovely face so familiar and yet so new.  Heather or not, this woman aroused feelings in him that he had never felt before.  Tender, protective, possessive.  He wanted her for himself whatever that implied, short-term or long-term he did not know, but he needed time to figure it out.  As she sa
id, it was worth exploring.  “Nay, my love, I dinnae want ye to go.”

“Yet?”

“No, nae yet.”  The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile and he leaned over to meet her lips in a tender kiss.  “Ye’re the most curious woman I ha’ ever met.”

“Thanks, I think, and you’re
…”

A quick tap sounded at the door and Margo burst in without waiting to be invited.  “
Milady!” she called and drew up short at the sight of Emmy kneeling between Connor’s legs, and their mutual state of undress.  “Oh!  I’m sorry!  I dinnae mean . . .” Margo blushed furiously and turned to leave.

Emmy stood and secured the dressing gown tighter, trying to suppress a blush over what Margo probably thought was happening.  “It's okay, Margo.  What’s up?”

“Oh, milady,” she cried.  “I need yer help.  My maw is having an awful time.”

“What is it?” Emmy asked in concern.  “You said she was feeling unwell?”

“’Tis the baby!” Margo exclaimed, her eyes bright with tears.

“What baby?” Emmy and Connor asked in unison.

“Maw’s having another bairn, but she’s having a terrible time wi’ this one.”  Margo wrung her hands in worry.  “Will ye come?”

“Of course I will,” Emmy assured her, already shifting into doctor mode.  “Hurry, help me dress!”

“I will get a carriage ready,” Connor offered and snatched up his shirt before leaving the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier that your mom was in labor, Margo?” she chided as she pulled on a shift and shirt
, since her own underwear was currently soaked.

“’Tis
her tenth bairn, milady,” Margo explained.  “I dinnae think she’d need any help wi’ it this time.  Why, the last one came so quick she barely had time to get to the house before it came.”  She drew up the petticoats and skirts around Emmy hips and tied them on.

“Guess she figured she’d seen it all by this point, huh?”  Emmy slipped her feet into her boots and grabbed the medical bag Connor had sent up.  Margo swept up a cloak for her and they hurried down the stairs.

The carriage made the trip to Lochdon, about a mile and a half southwest of Duart, at a much faster clip than their earlier drive into Craignure, despite the continued rain and wind. Knowing Margo was so nervous she was about to pop, Emmy encouraged Margo to tell her about where she lived and about her family.  Though Emmy knew from reading a history of the area that members of the MacLean clan had populated Lochdon for centuries, Margo added that it was from here that the laird employed his household staff, as well as those who maintained his livestock and worked at the home farm.  Margo chatted on about how her mother had worked in the castle’s kitchens for many years before devoting herself to her home and children.  Her father, Aengus McAllen, was a second in command to Connor’s steward overseeing the estate’s business.  Margo, the oldest of their children, had been working at the castle for three years, first as a chambermaid and now lady’s maid.  Because of the higher status of that position, she also resided at the castle with her footman husband.

All the wind went out of the maid when the carriage stopped in front of a small
two-story cottage.  Nodding encouragingly, Emmy motioned for Margo to proceed them.

Though the house seemed poor to Emmy’s mind, Connor assured her the family was one of the village’s more prestigious, because of the positions Margo and her father held at Duart.  Connor hung back as Emmy forged up the stairs in Margo’s wake.  He was welcomed hesitantly by the six of Margo’s younger siblings who were gathered in the main parlor of the house.  They ranged in age from two to
thirteen.  They were silent and withdrawn, whether because of his presence or their mother’s travails, he did not know.

The oldest present was a girl, Mairi, who offered him whisky which he accepted, wondering whether he should leave but knowing he would not until Heather was ready to return to Duart.  Remembering he had sent McAllen to Glasgow earlier that week, he tried to take interest in the children, recalling small things their father had said of them.

Footsteps sounded above and he wondered if Heather were truly as capable as her confidence indicated.  He hoped so.

Emmy wasted little time introducing herself to Margo’s mother, Cora, asking a series of questions to acquaint herself with the woman’s history as she washed her hands and began her initial examination.  “How old are you, Cora?”

“Forty and one,
milady,” she panted.

“This is your tenth pregnancy?”

“Twelfth, milady,” was her response.

“God, that’s just nuts,” Emmy murmured to herself under her breath.  Once she had delivered the sixth child in a family but many people considered having too many kids
irresponsible, unless you could afford to raise them all the way through college.  Unusually large families were a novelty and ended up on TV reality shows or were taunted by the press.  Absently Emmy wondered what a show about the McAllens and their brood would be called.

And all by forty-one!  If she had had to take a guess she would have thought the woman closer to fifty than forty.  Of course, she wasn’t at her best at that particular moment, she allowed.  “Were the other two carried to term or miscarried?”

“Both suffered illness after birth, milady,” Margo informed her as she laid a cool cloth over her mother’s brow.  “Please, milady, can ye help her?”

“I’ll do my best, Margo.”  She shot the girl a smile of reassurance as she made her examination.  “Have you had any difficulties in delivery before?”

“None, milady.”

Emmy’s examination quickly discovered the problem.  “The baby is breech, Cora.  We’re going to have to turn it but I need you to stay very still while I do it.  Is there anyone else here who can help you hold your mother, Margo?”

“Just the little ones, milady, and my sisters.”

“Are they old enough to be of any use?” Emmy asked.

Margo and Cora looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.  “The other girls are away.”

“No brothers?  Your husband?”

“My brother Cam went wi’ my father to Glasgow this week,” Margo explained.

“If it’s okay with you then, Cora, I’d like to have Connor
…the laird come up and help us out,” Emmy told her.

“Okay?” Cora panted.

“She means if it’s acceptable, maw,” Margo translated, having gotten used to Emmy’s phrasing over the past several days.

The woman hesitated, then nodded miserably.  Emmy sent Margo to fetch Connor as she prepared the tools she would need on a nearby table and gathered towels.

Margo returned quickly to her mother’s side.  “Where is the laird?”

Margo nodded to the doorway and Emmy turned to find Connor hesitating on the threshold.  “Well, get in here, laird,” she urged.  “This is what you get for sending a man away on business when his wife is near her time.  You get to do his duty.”

“I dinnae think…” he started but stopped at her level stare.  A jerk of her head propelled his feet forward of their own will.  Connor was horrified.  He had never attended a birthing before, had never had any reason to.  And didn’t necessarily want to.  He was the laird, not a midwife.  Yet Emmy’s gaze was calm and commanding and he found himself wanting not only to please her, but to see what she was capable of first hand.  “What do ye want me to do?”

“The baby is breech and I need to turn it,” she explained.  “I need you to keep her still for me; can you do that?”

Connor squared his shoulders at the deprecating question. “Of course.”

“Let’s get to it then.”  She waved him forward and he took his place as Emmy went to work.  In truth, she had never actually done this before in practice.  She was working entirely on theory and hoped her nervousness didn’t show on her face.  Cora moaned in pain and was panting erratically.  She was on the verge of hyperventilating.  “Get her to breathe evenly, Connor.  Talk to her.”

The laird murmured encouraging words to the woman to breathe with him slowly.  He asked her if she remembered bringing him sweets from the kitchen when his father had banished him to his room for a week for punching Ian.  He couldn’t remember why he had done it.  “He rode yer favorite pony and brought it up lame with a stone in its hoof,” Cora said with a shaky laugh.  “Ye would nae ha’ been able to ride it for a week anyway, but got whipped by yer father and sent to yer rooms for the week instead.”

Connor laughed and nodded at the memory.  “Aye, that’s right - I had forgotten!  And ye slipped me
my favorite sweets.  Ye werenae much more than a young lass yerself when ye did that.”

“Still in the scullery, I was.”  She gasped and stifled a scream.

Emmy looked up.  “Okay, Cora, push now!  Come on!”

The woman bore down with another scream and Emmy viewed the results.  “All right, one more!”

“Aye, now,” Connor’s encouragement joined hers and he took Cora’s hand.

“Push, maw,” Margo joined in.

Cora cried out and a moment later the baby’s cry joined hers.

“Your color is looking better, I think.”

“I’ve ne’
er seen a bairn born before,” Connor told her as the carriage rocked slowly back and forth when they finally set out to return to Duart several hours later.  For a nearly an hour after the birth, he had sat out in the chilly night with his whisky to combat the nausea and sweats that had overcome him as the child, a boy, had been born.  It had been horrific.  Cows and horses were one thing, but….

“Supposedly it’s different when it is your own baby,” she assured him.  “You’ll be fine.”  She gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

“She nearly broke my hand, her grip was so strong,” he told her lightly, but he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to witness such an ordeal again, even if it was his own child.  There was a reason men were not present for deliveries.  Now he understood what it was.  He eyed Heather - or Emmy or whoever she was - thoughtfully and pictured her heavy with his child, his first, his heir.  Aye, he would love to see her in such a state, glowing with happiness as Dory had been the previous night.  He would place his hands on her belly and marvel with her over the life inside.  A life they had created together.  In that moment, he wanted that fantasy more than anything.

Oblivious to the vein of Connor’s thinking, Emmy yawned hugely and stretched.  “Man, I am beat.”  She laid her head on his shoulder in fatigue.  Thankfully the coachman was taking the journey slowly in deference to her motion sickness on their previous trips. It would take much longer but at least the motion was tolerable.  “You were wonderful, Connor,” she told him.  “You were exactly what she needed.  Calm and distracting and not a hint of worry.”

“I was scared to death.”

“So was I,” she admitted.

Connor looked down at her in amazement.  “Truly?  I would ne’er ha’ thought so.  Ye were incredibly competent.  I was impressed.”  He was, too.  She had praised the mother and congratulated her on the birth, handing Cora the baby boy, and handling the rest with efficiency and an optimistic cheerfulness that had immediately transmitted itself to Cora, Margo and himself.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”  She hugged his arm and snuggled closer against the chill of the night.  “Thank you for helping.”

“She is one of my clan.”  He shrugged off her praise, knowing that it was her efforts that had saved Cora and her son.  McAllen would come back to Duart and know the laird’s lady had saved his wife’s life.

“You care for these people so very much,” she murmured tiredly.  She had never known anyone to accept and want the responsibility for the lives of so many people yet he seemed to thrive on it.  She had never met anyone like that, like him and was fairly sure that she would never meet another who impressed her so much.  Through a yawn she said, “I’m not sure what I want more, food or sleep.”