A Laird for All Time (10 page)

“Ye
r turn.” He turned her and worked the buttons on the dress quickly before pulling it down around her waist.  He then set to work on the corset and ties for the petticoats she wore under the dinner dress.  Just as the whole of it was about to fall to the ground, Emmy caught it to her chest and glanced over her shoulder through lowered lashes, her eyes meeting his in a look full of meaning, before allowing it to drop to the floor.  Taking her hand, he pulled her toward him forcing her to turn and step out of the pile leaving her in nothing but her lace panties, stocking and garters and heeled ivory shoes.

She was so lovely, so perfect in her
near nudity that Connor fell to his knees with a moan before her, running his hands up to her hips and pulling her to him.  Pressing a heated kiss to her belly, a flash caught his attention and his focus shifted.  “Is that a jewel?”

“
What?” she murmured in confusion, her attention focused solely on the feel of his hot mouth against her skin.  “Oh you mean my belly ring!”  She looked down at it and up again at him with a frown.  “Don’t you like it?”

The delicate crescent of silver looped through the
skin above her navel, ending in a large crystal.  It was not a diamond or even a paste imitation, he noted, examining the larger one dangling from the lower end of the crescent.  It drew attention to the center of her muscled abdomen and was erotic, aye, but
too
erotic,
too
provocative.  It brought to his imagination many thoughts he didn’t want to have.  “Nay, I dinnae,” he answered gruffly.

“Really?” she asked in amazement.  “Most
…”  She was going to say ‘guys’, but managed to stop the thought before it came out and she had to explain bikinis and midriffs to him.  Luckily he was too enthralled by the jewelry to notice.

“Why would ye do that to ye
rself?”

“I went through a rebellious
phase after my mom died,” she confessed. It was the truth.  “Multiple piercings, belly, nose and five up the ear, tattoo, hung out with a bad crowd.”  She shrugged it off.  “I was an angry kid, mad at the world for taking my mom from me.”

“What about ye
r father?” he asked realizing she had not mentioned him.

“You want to talk about that now?” Emmy questioned incredulously.
Her dad had left her mom when she was just a little girl. She didn’t even remember him, but telling him that would only upset him and cause another argument, because he had known Heather’s father and would try to point that out… again.  She didn’t want the same old fight.  Not now.  “Let’s just say, I just had some issues, no biggie.  Unlike your baggage, I learned to let mine go.”

“I am learning,” he murmured as he twirled his tongue past the jewel and over to nip her hipbone
, lightly raking his teeth over the sensitive flesh there before moving further down.  She moaned as her stomach muscles quivered in anticipation and he answered in turn with a moan of his own as if her excitement and arousal aroused him in turn.

Emmy
rested her hands lightly on his hair, caressing it as she stared down at his dark head in wonder.  Such an incredibly passionate man!  She should have known that as fiercely as he could be brought to anger, his lust would be just as strong. And to have it directed at her!  Emmy knew that this night would be one that she would never forget.  “Connor,” she whispered as he raised his head and looked up at her with his chin on her belly.  “Make love to me,” she urged.  “Take me to bed and make love to me.”

He stood
and ran his hands up her body, catching her by the waist and lifting her into the air.  Emmy gasped in surprise, grabbing him round the neck and wrapping her arms and legs around him as he kicked open his bedchamber door and carried her over to his bed.  He captured her lips in a fierce kiss as they went.  Not releasing her, he bent over the bed lowering them both down until he pressed her into the soft mattress.  As she ran her hands down his back, his hands moved up, seizing her bare breasts and kneading them firmly.  His lips found that sensitive spot below her ear once more and she shuddered in pleasure.  “Oh, Connor,” she moaned, “this is incredible!”

He had to agree as she spread her hands over his buttocks and pulled him closer to her heat.  Her legs wrapped around him
, anchoring him to her core.  He pressed himself to her and they both moaned with pleasure.  “Och, my love…” he moaned, “my darling Heather, I want ye so badly.”

Emmy was so distracted by Connor’s fingers slipping up her panties to find her wet heat that it took a long moment for his words to penetrate the spell that
enveloped around them.  Not again!  She pulled her arms between them and pushed forcing him up so she could face him.  “Connor, I am not your wife,” she insisted, determined to make her point this time.

“Now is
nae the time for yer charade, my love,” he whispered and tried to kiss her again.

Turning her head, Emmy rolled out from under him and stood by the bed
, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I think now is the perfect time!”

Connor rolled on to his back with a groan and stared up at her.  His chest was heaving and already covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 
He looked so incredibly sexy that Emmy nearly threw caution to the wind and jumped back into the bed.  She closed her eyes against the sight of him sprawled against the pillows and took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions.  Thank God he still had his pants on!

“Ye
shouldnae have started something ye dinnae mean to finish, Heather,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I meant to finish it, Connor,” she replied
, bringing a flaring heat to his eyes as he rose on his elbows in expectation.  She held out a palm to him.  “Whoa there, cowboy. I’m not done.  I do want you, I do.  God
knows
I do.  I have never felt anything like this in my life and a huge part of me just wants to jump right back in there and get it going.”

“Then come
.” He held out a hand in invitation.

“I can’t,” she told him
, ignoring the hand and pulling a blanket from the bed to cover herself against the growing chill of the room.  “Not until you understand that I am not your wife.”

“Fine then,” Connor tossed out
casually.  “Ye’re nae my wife.  In truth, I have no wife at all.”

A
bruptly derailed, Emmy stared down at him in confusion.  “You don’t?”

Connor shrugged nonchalantly.  “No one else knows of it yet, but I sec
ured an annulment from ye two years ago.”

Emmy’s brows shot up in surprise.  “You did?  Why didn’t you say something before?”
Actually she was glad to hear it.  She knew people did it all the time but she hadn’t been too hot over the idea of sleeping with a married man.

“It
wisnae yer concern at the time.”

“But now it is?
” she asked.  “Why now?”

“Ye
dinnae want to admit to being my wife.  Fine,” he snapped his fingers.  “Now ye’re nae my wife.  Isn’t that what ye wanted?” The same old anger started to burn up in him.  Now she wanted him.  He knew she did!  Even wanting him like this, knowing that as her husband it was perfectly acceptable to make love with him – without anyone looking askance at them, without scandal – and she still wouldn’t admit it?  What exactly did she want from him?

“Let me make it simple once again,” sarcasm was heavy in her voice
. “I am not Heather.  Whether she is still your wife or not, I am not her.  Not Heather!”

“Ye
are!”

“I am not!”
Each word was enunciated slowly.  “Why, Connor?  Why would I continue with this if it were not true?  Why?”

“Most likely
because ye’re ashamed of how ye had to support yerself when ye ran!” he yelled, sitting up on the bed.

“What are you talking about?”

“Obviously ye’ve been wi’ a man before.  Ye know what yer about!” His brogue was so thick Emmy could barely understand him.  He gestured at her state of undress.  “No pantalets!  How many men did ye have?”

Emmy blinked and stared down at him
dumbfounded.  “You… you think I was a prostitute?” she stuttered in disbelief.

“How else
could a single woman earn enough of a living to go to a university and buy her own camera?” he asked.  The jealousy was raging inside him now the question had been asked and he wanted, no! needed to hear the answer.  “How many, Heather?”

“You think I was a
prostitute?
!” she repeated, ending in a near screech.  “Is that why you wanted to have sex with me?  You think I’m that cheap?”

“Are ye saying yer a virgin still then?” he challenged
insolently.

Emmy opened her mouth and shut it with a snap.  “No, I am not, Connor
.” She took a step forward and poked him in the chest with a finger.  “I am not, but don’t you ever, ever again make the mistake of thinking I have
ever
taken money for sex!  Ever!” she hissed.

“How then?  How did ye support yerself then?”

“I earned my living the really old-fashioned way, Connor MacLean,” she poked him again.  “I worked for it.  Worked real jobs.  How dare you think otherwise?”

“So ye
slept with men for fun then? How many?” he asked again, torn apart waiting for the answer.

“That is
so
none of your business.”  She threw up a hand in dismissal, gathered up the pile of discarded clothes and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Emmy managed to avoid Connor for most of the next day.  In truth it wasn’t too difficult
, since it seemed he was avoiding her as well.  He kept to his study and Emmy found safety in numbers with the other ladies of the house.  She played the piano in the sitting room for nearly an hour while the other women talked over their embroidery.  Emmy had little interest in sewing, or even learning how, and even less interest in conversation.  Instead, she morosely mulled over her own thoughts as she played by rote for the six ladies who lived at Duart.  Dory, Connor’s aunts, Millie, Lizzie and Eleanor, and his cousins, Gladys and Nora.

But she couldn’t help but think of Connor. 
She wondered where he was, what he was doing and thinking about.  Was he thinking about her?  About last night?

What a stubborn man! s
he thought darkly, throwing herself into the dark moody music of the Phantom.  Thick-headed
man
!  Did he really think there was no other way for a woman to earn a living?  How did single women earn a living in this time?  And what did he want from her anyway?  Just a piece of ass?  An admission?  She would bet he didn’t even know. She had been so incredibly angry with him for thinking that of her. and yet, looking back on it, he had seemed almost desperate to know.  How many, he had asked over and over.  Why was it so important?  It made her wonder.

And
then besides nearly having sex with a man she had only known for three days, she had blabbered on and on about how she felt about being here.  How she was afraid she would never want to leave.  Leave him.  Damn right she was afraid!  On one hand she had a nearly perfect life on paper.  A doctor joining a medical practice that would bring her a great living.  She owned her own house and had an IRA that should allow her to retire early someday.  She had friends – well more fellow residents than friends – but they were people she enjoyed going to dinner with, games with, or up to New York for an occasional weekend.

So she didn’t have a boyfriend.  So what?  She was only twenty-eight for crying out loud!  She was bound to meet someone in the next couple years and fall in love
, so she could have marriage and babies and all the good stuff that went with it.  A perfect life.

On the other hand, she was
clearly stuck here in 1895 Scotland.  How could that compete?  No electricity, no movies, no baseball.  Dozens of things bounced randomly through her mind from the minor faults to the major.  Faucets that were either hot or cold but never just warm.  No Internet!  Uncomfortable clothes, uncomfortable shoes.  She could go on and on about all the negatives of being stuck here.  Why would she want to stay at all?  What was life without her old friends Ben and Jerry?  And it was boring!  She was the child of a multitasking generation.  She was used to doing three things at once, always moving, always on the go.  She had checked her cell phone that morning, just out of habit.  No service.  Well, of course there wasn’t!

The music
downshifted into a calming melody and her thoughts calmed as well.

But there was peace here, too. 
A beauty of nature that held its own appeal.  There were brand-new (hundred year old) books in the library that she had never read. They alone could keep her busy for years.

And there was Connor.  She closed her eyes as she played and pictured him in her mind as
he had been the previous night.  So incredibly sexy.  Appealing.  Alluring.  Laid back on his bed, hair mussed, eyes heavy, a nice six-pack of abs rippling and flexing in the candlelight… candlelight!  Ugh, she thought, thrown back into the negative side of life.  Candlelight wasn’t for a romantic setting here!  It was so you could see where you were going!  Did she really want to cope with that for the rest of her life?

And the medical side of this
time was appalling!  People could die just from appendicitis at any time.  From the flu! No antibiotics for infection.  Chicken pox could kill.  They still had smallpox, too.  No hope for cancer at all.  And what would childbirth be like here? 

A morbid parade of disease with no treatment or cure danced through her mind as she lost herself in her
personal horror show of disease, misery and death until a startled cry drew her attention. 

Glancing around the room, she saw the other ladies flocking to Dory’s side
as she bent over, clearly in pain.  Fresh from her recent apprehensive thoughts on childbearing, Emmy rushed to her side pushing the other women out of the way.  “Dory, what it is?  Do you feel pain?”  Emmy ran her hand knowledgeably down the woman’s stomach and drew back in surprise.  “Are you still wearing that thing?  I thought I told you not to,” she scolded.

“Please,” Dory whispered as perspiration dotted her brow.

“Someone find a footman to carry Dory to her room,” Emmy commanded, leaving the women to scatter as she turned her attention to the woman who looked so much like her.  “Don’t worry, Dory, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Emmy patted her hand as the footman arrived.  “Take her carefully up to her room,” she directed.

“Maybe we should call for a doctor or a midwife,” someone
commented - Cousin Gladys, Emmy thought.

“I am a doctor,” Emmy said firmly, “and I will take care of Dory.”  The women murmured
among themselves at her pronouncement but she waved them away.  “Someone should find Ian though.”
Just in case
, she added mentally but kept the thought to herself.

On the way up the stairs, Emmy called for a maid to fetch her boiling water, the strongest soap they had
, and some towels.  What she wouldn’t give for her small medical bag from the hotel!  Or at least a pair of latex gloves!  She was just getting Dory settled on the bed and shooing the ladies out of the room when a trio of maids arrived bringing what she needed.  She was briefly surprised at how quickly they arrived, but of course! Dory kept water handy at all times for her tea.  “Margo!” she called and snapped her fingers several times at Dory’s personal maid. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Susan,
milady.” Susan bobbed a curtsey.

“Susan, you and Margo get Dory into a nightgown
, just the gown and nothing else.” Dory blushed and started to protest, “Nothing else,” she repeated firmly.  “On top of the covers, not under.” Emmy went to the windows and flung the curtains wide open allowing as much natural light as possible to enter the room.  Thankfully Dory’s room faced the courtyard and thus had the larger windows.  “You,” she pointed to the third maid she didn’t recognize.  “Turn the gaslights up as far as they’ll go and bring more lamps closer to the bed.”  As the maids scrambled to do her bidding, Emmy rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands thoroughly, hissing at the hot water.  “Freakin’ middle ages,” she muttered under her breath.  “Dark, no tools, no stethoscope.  Could use one of those.”  Hmmm, they might have come up with that already… maybe.  “Margo, does the local doctor, is there a local doctor?  Does the doctor have a stethoscope?”  When the girl looked puzzled Emmy explained, “Something that lets him listen to a heartbeat?”

Margo’s expression
brightened.  “Aye, milady, I’ve seen him use it before on my Maw.”

“Would it be possible to send someone to see if we can borrow it?” Emmy asked.  “We don’t need the whole doctor, just the stethoscope,” she clarified to make sure they didn’t bring some under-educated quack
back with them.

“I’ll send my brother to ask,
milady.”  Margo bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

Emmy moved to the bed where Dory
lay curled up against the pillows, still looking tense and scared.  “Any blood?” She directed the question to Susan who had helped Dory change.

“No,
milady.”

“Good!” Emmy sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the woman everyone thought to be her sister.  “Relax, Dory.  Breathe.  Y
ou look wound up enough to blow your cork.”

Susan giggled and Dory offered a strained smile.  “I’m scared, Em
ily.”  Emmy started at the use of her real name.

“Just Emmy,” she
said, patting Dory’s hand.  “And don’t be scared, you’ll be just fine.”

“My baby,”
Dory moaned, stifling a sob.

“Well, let’s just see, shall we?”  Emmy
coaxed Dory on to her back, took her feet one by one and raised them up.  Putting a hand on either side of her bulging stomach, Emmy pressed in.  Intently, she waited for some sign of movement from within or, worse case, a contraction that would indicate a miscarriage or premature labor.  Feeling nothing after a moment, she moved her hand to the top of her stomach and pushed down. 

W
ishing briefly for a fetal monitor, Emmy changed the subject.  “I thought we discussed that corset, Dory.”

“I know, Emmy, I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I just thought I could still wear it.”

Emmy tsked.  “And after Ian was sooo nice to you yesterday, too,” she admonished.

Dory blushed then giggled just a bit.  Her stomach jumped beneath Emmy’s hands and Dory squealed in terror.

“Shhh, Dory!” Emmy laughed.  “It’s just the baby kicking.”

“Kicking?” Dory responded in confusion and squeaked again as the baby kicked more
forcibly.  Emmy put her hand over the spot and savored the feel of the baby’s movement.  It had always been her favorite thing about expectant mothers, the one thing she envied them for and longed for herself.

“Active little bugger,” she said fondly.
  “See?  Just kicking and a little gymnastics.  Is that what you felt downstairs?  Or is there actual pain?”

“No,” Dory replied in wonder and put her own hands on her stomach as the baby continued to roll.  “No pain
now.  But this is not what I felt before.  That hurt.  But this has been scaring me as well.  I feel it all the time.  Is it truly just the baby moving?  I didn’t realize what it was, and it doesn’t happen as much when I wear the corset. Little nudges here and there but never that!”

“
The corset probably inhibits the baby’s movements.  Leave it off and let the baby move, okay?” Emmy lectured.

“I’ve never carried a baby long enough before to feel
this,” Dory elaborated.

“Well, I’d wager you’ll get to feel a lot more than that this time.”  Emmy shifted until she was sitting closer to the foot of the bed and put
a hand on each of Dory’s knees.  “Susan, do you have a tape measure?”  Not knowing how else to describe it, Emmy breathed a sigh of relief when the maid nodded and opened a box near the fireplace, withdrawing a length of string knotted at intervals.  Well, it would have to do, Emmy shrugged. 

Dory stiffened and squealed again.  “There it is!  That’s what scared me downstairs.”

“Pain?”

“Yes,” Dory nodded.  “I
t was not like the movement before.  It was…” she trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

“
I am going to examine you now, Dory, whether you like it or not,” Emmy warned.

Dory clenched her knees together and stared at Emmy.  “Cannot we just
…”

“No, we can’t,” Emmy interrupted.  “This is no time for your Victorian sensibilities, Dory.  I need to have a look.  Don’t you want to have a healthy baby?”

Dory’s knees relaxed slightly and she glanced anxiously at her maid, the one person she had ever been naked in front of besides her husband.  Of course she had never bared herself completely for Ian, especially in broad daylight.  Susan was the person she should be the most comfortable with but, if she was going to do this, no one was going to see it happen.  “Susan, please wait outside.”

Uncertainly, the maid nodded and bobbed a curtsey before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.  “Alright, Emmy,”
Dory said, lying back on the bed with all the martyrdom of a virgin sacrifice on her face.  “Do what you must.”

“Think of it this way,” Emmy spoke quietly as she raised Dory’s nightgown up above her knees and spread the woman’s legs apart.  “Better me than the doctor, right? 
He must be some old, gross guy if you haven’t let him examine you before.  Am I right?”

Dory was already red with mortification and had turned her head to the side to avoid Emmy’s gaze but she nodded into the pillow.  “I can’t stand the thought of him touching me.”

“Then he won’t” Emmy assured her.  “But I will have to touch you, you know.”

Dory nodded miserably and Emmy got up on her knees
so she was off to the side.  Using her left hand to push down on the stomach, she used two fingers to examine the woman who had become her one ally in this place.  She felt for a moment while Dory moaned in embarrassment.  As quickly as possible, Emmy finished her exam and moved back, allowing Dory to cover herself once more.  She washed her hands again and came back with the tape measure.  “Just one more time, sweetie,” she murmured as she raised the gown again so Dory’s whole belly was exposed.  She was just taking the measurements she needed when the door burst open and Ian fell in, panting with exertion, and Emmy could tell he’d run to be at Dory’s side as soon as he had heard.

Dory squealed once again and rolled over
, pulling the full nightgown down over her feet.  Ian fell to his knees at the edge of the bed and took her hands.  “Dory, are you alright?”