A Laird for All Time (17 page)

The rumbling of her stomach woke Emmy the next morning.  Rubbing her hands over her face, she rolled over with a groan.  She vaguely remembered Connor carrying her to bed the previous night.  Now in a state of consciousness, she marveled at his strength.  She was slight of build, but tall and muscular and weighed more than she looked.  With a grin, Emmy wondered if Connor had hurt his back in the process.

Still, it had been considerate, even chivalrous, for him to carry her up.  His participation in the birth had also shown his caring for his people
…and for her?  His later praise over her performance had made her feel more flattered than the appreciation given by Margo and her mother.  What did that mean?  That his opinion mattered more than anyone else’s? 

Only what she had already guessed, that she was falling for him hard and fast.

“Oh, God,” she groaned again. “I should have gone to the Bahamas or better yet, Cabo.”

“Where is Cabo?”

Emmy started and rolled over to find Connor lounging in the doorway to the parlor.  “Geez, Connor, you scared me!” she scolded as she patted her pounding chest.  “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?”

“The door was open,” he replied as he strolled casually into the room.  The door had been open
, but only because he had left it that way the previous night.  She had been as groggy as a drunken sailor when they had returned the previous evening and so reluctant to rouse herself that he had carried her up and put her to bed.  Connor had taken great pleasure in removing most of her clothing and tracing the colorful lines of her tattoo with his fingertip.  As he stared down at her lovely face relaxed after slumber, tenderness such as he had never before experienced had clenched at his heart.  She was so unique, unlike anyone he had ever met, competent, beyond intelligent, and funny as well.  His lips quirked; even half asleep she jested whether his mother had taught him to knock.

“I came to see if ye were planning on sleeping the day away,” Connor took a seat on the edge of the bed as she propped herself up on her elbows and stifled a yawn.

“I just might,” she teased and he laughed.  “Care to join me?”

Connor leaned over and caught her lips in a tender kiss.  “An appealing offer.”  He kissed her again and she arched up to deepen the contact.

“Oh, milady!  I’m sorry!”

Emmy drew back and turned her head to see Margo backing out of the room balancing a large tray on her hip.  “Wait, Margo!  Is that food?”

“Aye, milady,” the maid confirmed.  “Ye missed dinner last night and I thought ye might be hungry since it is almost noontime.”  She nudged her way back into the room and put the tray on a small table by the fire.  “I’ll just go…”

“It’s okay, Margo, I’m getting up.”  Emmy shot Connor a regretful
glance, which he returned with a disappointed sigh.  “Oh, gimme a break, I’m starving.  Aren’t you?”

“I ate over an hour ago.”

Emmy raised a brow at his superior tone as she slipped her dressing gown on.  “Well, good for you.  Either sit and keep me company or go away if you’re going to be a sourpuss.”

Connor toyed with her phrase while taking a seat across from her at the table and snatching a roll from her plate.  “Hey, that’s mine!  I thought you already ate.”

“I did,” he drawled as he drizzled honey on the bread and took a bite.

“Well, just keep away from the rest or you might end up with a bloody nub for your trouble, kay?”  Emmy took a bite of eggs and rolled her eyes in bliss.  “God, that’s good,” she mumbled around a full mouth.

Margo hovered, drawing Emmy’s attention.  “What’s up, Margo?”

“I finished hand washing
yer smalls this morning and hung them to dry,” the maid told her.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Emmy responded, shoving another forkful of food in.

“And I found this on the floor while I was picking up.” Margo held Emmy’s iPhone out in one hand and the ear buds in the other.  Interest was bright in her eyes.   Emmy was certain Margo wanted to ask what it was, but Emmy simply took them with a nod and tucked them in the pocket of her gown.

“Thanks.  How’s your mom this morning?”

A flash of disappointment showed on the maid’s face, but she simply replied, “Verra well, thank ye, milady.  I’ll just leave ye alone to eat.”  She bobbed a curtsey and turned to leave.

“Oh, Margo?”  Emmy’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she grinned at Connor.  “It might be best if you knocked and waited for an answer
, for the time being.”

“Aye,
milady,” the maid grinned as she departed, closing the door pointedly behind her.

“What?” Emmy drawled innocently at Connor’s speculative look.  They smiled at each other and she added.  “Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Of course.”  Connor reached over to snatch a piece of bacon, earning a smack on his knuckles for his trouble.  Rubbing his hand, Connor changed the subject.  “I’m curious, where is this Cabo ye mentioned?  I ha’, of course, heard of the Bahamas as it is a territory of the Crown, but nae the other.  Is it an American colony?”

Emmy bit into the second biscuit, licking a drop of jam from her fingers.  While on some level he was once more appalled by her horrible manners, he was enthralled by the comfortable casualness her manner and relaxed posture encouraged.  She answered around the mouthful of bread and jam, “No, Cabo, Cabo San Lucas is in Mexico on the Baha peninsula
…south of California.”

“The Cape of St. Luke?”  He
translated the Spanish.  “I ha’ ne’er heard of it.  Ye’ve been that far west?  I understand many areas are still quite violent and dangerous.”  He was astounded that she had traveled such a distance.  Alone?  He tried not to speculate.

Thinking herself of Hollywood and east L. A., Emmy admitted the west still had its dangerous elements but added, “Cabo is a resort town thou
gh; the police there try to keep it safe for the tourists.”

“So ye traveled there on another holiday, then?”

“Oh, yeah, the ocean, the beaches, a little snorkeling.  It’s a party.”

She raised her eye-brows and waited for him to say something, anything that would give her leave to approach the whole ‘I’m from the future’ topic, but he disappointed by merely res
ponding with a thoughtful, ‘Hmm’.  She wondered what pictures were floating through his mind.

“What did Margo
gi’ ye?”

Here it was.  If there were ever a perfect opening for a futuristic show and tell, this was it. Emmy could show him the iPhone, explain how it worked and, when he said in amazement how such a thing was impossible
…boom, she would drop the bomb.  She opened her mouth, looked into those deep, dark eyes and deflated.  “Just something I had dropped in the bathroom yesterday afternoon,” she ended up responding vaguely. 

Chicken.

“So what are your plans today?” she carried on instead.

“I had thought to offer my company and carriage to drive ye everywhere ye need to go today,” he answered, filled with curiosity.  She had been about to say something else.  He knew it, and indeed she had looked disappointed with her own response.  It occurred to Connor in that moment that besides denying her identity, she was hiding something else.  That surprised him
, as he had thought only the previous day that she was an open book incapable of deception.  He wondered what it could be.  “Can I see what she gave ye?”

“Not
right now.  Where am I going today?”

“News of yer special skills seems to have spread overnight.  Chilton told me that several women from even as far as Craignure are seeking yer services
.  Assuming, naturally, that ye would care to provide them.”  He eyed her bacon once more and, with a sigh of defeat, Emmy handed over a piece.  “Why nae?”

Accepting the change of topic without batting a lash, Emmy shrugged.  “It’s mine and not yours and I am allowed my privacy.  House calls, huh?”  Emmy nibbled on the last of the bacon thoughtfully.  Seemingly her vocation was highly sought after in this time.  Could there really be so many women pregnant at the same time in such a sparsely populated place?  Granted there was no real birth control around.  No TV and long nights, and those nights were getting rather cold.  A warm bed occupied by a warm partner had a broad appeal and the activities that could get you even warmer resulted in
…well, a high percentage of pregnant women.  Women who had no one to care for them on Mull except for the old doctor that Dory refused to allow near her. 

“I could take it from ye.”

“You’ll only get to see it when you ask nicely and I decide to let you have it,” she responded pleasantly, amused over their banter.  “Well, house calls it is, then.  When do we go?”

“I thought within an hour or so.
” He looked at her speculatively.  “I am much stronger than ye.  Any resistance ye could offer would be easily overcome.”

“But that would be going against my wishes and you’re not that kind of guy.”  Amused, Emmy watched through lowered lashes as his frustration grew.  “I’ll need time to bathe first.  I still smell like seawater.”

He studied her for a long moment then a new look dropped like a mask over his features.  His mouth softened and his eyes grew heavy and hot.  Connor reached across the table and took her hand, tracing circles in her sensitive palm.  “Are ye sure ye’re not still fatigued from last night?”  His voice turned low and seductive.  “Perhaps ye should return to bed for some more…rest before we go.”

Emmy shivered as he stood and pulled her to stand in front of him.  He stared down at her with his dark, hungry eyes, his hands moving lightly up her arms to her shoulders, neck to cup her cheeks. 
His mouth lowered to hers in a light, teasing kiss, licking her lower lip before slanting across her mouth with devouring heat and intensity.  Emmy leaned in with a moan as his hands plunged into her hair and moved down her back.  His lips nipped and sucked until she was void of logical thought.  So far gone was she that Emmy almost didn’t feel his hand slipping into her robe pocket.  Almost!  She slapped a hand down over his and glared up at him in astonishment, stumbling back from his embrace. 

“Now that was just cruel, Connor.  You think you can seduce it out of me?”

“Almost had it,” he murmured kissing her again, softly, but with a chuckle.

He was so good that he almost had, too.  “No, no, you had your chance.”  She pushed him away.  “Go away now.”

“Now who is cruel?” he moaned, stepping back to reveal his aroused state.  “Will ye leave me in need?”

“It is your own fault trying to use my attraction to you in such a way.  You must respect my wishes and my property, Connor,” she insisted fiercely.  “I said no, not now, and I meant it.”

“Ye dinnae truly mean it.”

“Surprisingly, I did.  You can’t just take what you want.”

“I am the laird; I always get what I want.”  While the words were teasing, Emmy could see that on some level he was serious.  He might try to wheedle what he wanted from her but, in the end, he fully expected to get it, one way or another. 

“You don’t always get what you want.”

“Surprisingly, I do.”  He mocked her words.

Lifestyles of the rich and powerful, she thought.  She had known that he had some arrogance in him; it was part and parcel of the commanding presence he portrayed.  Part of him.  The Earl.  But to such an extreme that he assumed his every wish would be granted?  He
probably didn’t truly know the meaning of the word no.  The world was his oyster and if he wanted the pearl, it was his too.  Well!  “No! Not this time!”

“Are ye telling me no?” he asked, torn between shock and amusement.

“I am telling you no.”  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down stubbornly.  “It will be my choice if, and when, I let you see my personal belongings.  You cannot command or seduce them out of me.”  In truth, it was probably that he used her affections and desire against her that irritated her the most.  “It’s not okay to toy with people like that!  And besides,” she went on, her anger rising over his deception, “you don’t always get what you want.”

“Now what are ye talking about?”

“I think you know what I am talking about.  I can think of at least one other instance when someone denied you what you wanted.”  Emmy raised a brow and waited for him to catch on.  It didn’t take him long.

“So ye denied me once.”  His eyes narrowed.  “Why should I allow ye to do it again?”

“I would defy you if only to prove to you that you are not a god, Connor,” she snapped back.  “You might be the laird here, but you cannot command everyone in Duart like they are dogs.  People have a right to their person, and their privacy, at least.  Life, liberty and property!”

“I ha’
read yer American constitution, but in my house…”

“In your house you are king,” she interrupted sarcastically.  “You are God, blah, blah, blah,” she made a hand puppet to deliver those words.  “You know what?  I’m glad she left you!  Yeah, that’s right!  You obviously need to be brought down a notch!”  She poked him in the chest.

“Glad?  Do ye have any idea the humiliations I ha’ borne these past ten years because of that?” he ground out, angry now, his usually heavy brogue so thick now that Emmy could barely grasp his words.