A Laird to Hold

by Angeline Fortin

  “Nay,” Connor spoke up. “Ye should be here wi’ Scarlett and yer bairns. Emmy and I will go.”

  “I shall go, as well,” Rhys offered.

  “Actually, would you mind staying, Rhys?” Scarlett implored. “I know you’d rather get out, but I was hoping you might take Hermione down to the child care center or outside to play for a while so I can take a nap.”

  Poor Rhys was probably feeling the same touch of cabin fever as Connor clearly was after twenty hours in the confines of the hospital suite. But, gallant as he was, he nodded and conceded to her wishes.

  Connor looked to Emmy in question. “So ‘tis ye and I, lass. How do ye propose we return to the castle? Do we—how did Scarlett phrase it yesterday?—hitch another ride?”

  “I wish we had some cash for a cab or something.” Emmy gnawed the inside of her cheek. “I doubt they’d accept promise to pay on the vague chance your purse is still there.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Connor stood and patted her arm, nodding his head toward Scarlett meaningfully.

  He was spot-on, she could see the tension building in the new mother, additional stress Scarlett didn’t need heaped upon her when she already had worries enough in the health of her newborn.

  “I’m sure it’s in our…skill set. Is that the correct phrase?”

  Emmy smiled at Connor. “You’re going to fit in just fine around here.”

  “No’ for long, I should hope.”

  Emmy nodded, but whispered in his ear. “Long enough for me to show my appreciation for how bonny you are in those scrubs though, I bet.”

  “This? ‘Tis thin and ill fitting. Truly?”

  “Oh yes. I’ll show you all about playing doctor.”

  Connor lifted a brow, intrigued by the suggestion.

  “Later.”

  “Aye. I’ll hold ye to it.”

  Connor

  Ten minutes later, they stood outside the main entrance of the hospital, still in their scrubs. Emmy rubbed her bare arms against the chill of the mid-October air. Connor wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his warmth.

  Though he’d asked for her to elaborate upon this playing doctor idea, she’d refused. Still the mysterious smile lingering on her luscious lips sparked his imagination and kindled a smoldering desire in his groin. Her nipples hardening against his chest because of the cold made him intensely aware she wore nothing beneath the thin garment. Knowing did nothing to tamp down his arousal. They’d been wed just two months and spent most of that time in bed. His constant desire for her should have been waning by now, yet somehow Connor lusted for his bride still.

  Even in a strange time with an uncertain future. He was a lucky bastard.

  Hopefully, they’d be as blessed in completing their mission this day. As yet, however, they had no solid plan. They hadn’t been able to wait inside while developing one as the lobby had been crawling with reporters, all waiting to get the scoop on the condition of the famous Scarlett Thomas. They’d been fortunate to sneak through without anyone recognizing their connection to her celebrity. If their entrance the previous night hadn’t convinced him, the persistent presence of the gossipmongers assured Connor fame wasn’t worth the personal cost.

  “Scarlett telephoned the inn and her bags are still there,” he said of their mission. “Thank God for that. And since they’ve agreed to open the room for us, we’ve nothing more to ponder than how to get there and back again.”

  “We could ponder how else we might spend some time in the room before we return.” Emmy glanced up with a suggestive wiggle of her brows. “It’s not a hospital operating room, but it’ll do.”

  Another shaft of desire heated him despite the cool weather and Connor’s lips lifted at the corners. He rubbed his palms up and down her bare arms. To warm her, but his heated gaze achieved the same goal on its own if experience was any indication. “Whatever ye say, my love. I look forward to new experiences.”

  Her expression grew languid and she slipped her hands beneath the loose top he wore, her palms skimming up his ribs. “Oh, it’ll be different.”

  “Will it?” He dropped his hand lower, feeling the heat of her bottom through the thin barrier. “These scrubs do hae a measure of benefit, dinnae they?”

  Her lips brushed over the stubble along his jaw. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Connor grinned against the top of her head. He stroked up her back before raking his fingers through the length of her long blonde hair. After just a few months, he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her like this without the rigidity of her corset between them. With Emmy as unbound and uninhibited as she was now. He’d missed the feeling. “I’m looking forward to learning more.”

  Bending his head, he kissed her with promise. He tasted coffee on her cold lips. Anticipation of passion warmed them quick enough, whetting his thirst for something a beverage couldn’t quench. With both hands back on her rounded bottom, he molded her slender body to his.

  A loud blast tore them apart and a tiny car passed by and stopped a short distance up the drive.

  “Get a room,” a harried man yelled as he got out of his car and a child followed. “This ain’t no place for none of that, ye rocket.”

  “Come on.” Emmy tugged his arm and pulled him across the drive, unconcerned about the public spectacle they’d made of themselves there on the curb.

  Connor followed but startled a moment later when another horn blared and a long black vehicle stopped just short of taking his legs from beneath him. He slammed his palm down on the hood, wishing it were a sword.

  “It’s a car, not a dragon.” The humor in his wife’s tone told him she knew the direction of his thoughts. “You don’t need to kill it.”

  “I’ll admit, lass, ‘tis a wee bit different seeing them in person.”

  “Och, ye fookin’ twally-washer. Fuck ye dain?” The driver stuck his head out the window and shook his fist. When Connor just glared at him, the oaths continued, “Get yer fookin’ arse out of the drive, ye dozy cunt.”

  Stunned by the angry, offensive expletives even if he weren’t familiar with each one, Connor crossed the remainder of the drive, but Emmy stood fast and stared the driver down.

  “Hey, we’re just walking here.”

  The man spat. “Americans, eh? Proper tits, the lot of ye.”

  “I know,” she nodded, calmer than Connor would be under such verbal fire. “We feel bad about that, we really do.”

  She followed in Connor’s wake after the driver moved on. What an angry lot they were in this time, he thought distastefully. He had to wonder if they were all a bit deranged.

  He was once familiar with this city, but no longer.

  In so many ways.

  The future was thus far fairly removed from what he’d imagined from Emmy’s stories. Perhaps she’d been right when she once told him her time wasn’t all sunshine and roses. But then, he wasn’t an earl here in the eyes of the common folk either. The title had demanded respect.

  Connor looked back at the stark white, modern hospital behind them. In no way did it resemble the Edinburgh Infirmary he’d been familiar with. He cast his gaze over the crowded parking lot before them. Over the sea of cars in a variety of colors and sizes. Across the street stood a quartet of buildings, perhaps flats, of maybe twenty stories in height each that caught his eye and held it. Other than in London, he’d never seen a structure so tall before. Such a marvelous time yet repulsive in so many ways.

  And they weren’t even in the thick of the city, he realized. Around them, there were no busy streets, no businesses. In fact, to the south of them was nothing more than an open field.

  How were they to find a way to Dunskirk when even public transportation seemed thin? Walk? Hitchhike? It was beginning to appear those were their only options. Then there remained the journey back.

  “Could we rent a vehicle as Scarlett did? Or use the one she left at Dunskirk if we make it that far?”

  “Scarlett’s calling th
e rental company to pick up the car. We couldn’t drive it anyway or rent one ourselves because neither of us has a valid license.”

  Disappointment washed over Connor and he mumbled a curse. He’d been looking forward to getting behind the wheel of an actual automobile. He wouldn’t confess it aloud, but driving a car was the one thing he’d anticipated from the future world and one of the primary reasons he’d volunteered for this mission. Quite frankly, he wasn’t about to let an insignificant thing like a license stop him from driving.

  Emmy continued, unaware of his unspoken plan. “Maybe a bus or train?”

  “Where would we find one?”

  They were a minute or two into a discussion of their options when a vehicle pulled up to the curb next to them. Connor braced himself for another histrionic response.

  “Ye looked troubled,” the driver said, leaning out the window. “Perhaps we can be of assistance?”

  “Thanks,” Emmy answered for them. “We appreciate the offer, but unless you’re heading an hour or so south of town, I doubt you can help.”

  “As it happens, we’re going in that direction.”

  Connor lifted a disbelieving brow at the driver’s ready agreement. How unexpectedly fortuitous. “Really?”

  “Aye.”

  * * *

  What an incredible coincidence, Emmy thought. The driver appeared friendly enough. Darkly handsome with light blue eyes, the man had a dazzling smile that revealed deep engaging dimples.

  Not at all the serial killer type, but you never knew.

  Bending, she looked farther into the car at the redhead in the passenger seat. The woman smiled, warm and welcoming. Sympathetic and safe. But again, you never knew.

  “I doubt they’d offer us a ride only to kill us along the way,” Connor murmured under his breath, well aware of her tendency to imagine the worst-case scenario in all things.

  “That’s just what a psychopath would want you to think.”

  The woman in the car leaned across the man behind the wheel and smiled up at them cheerfully. “Don’t worry, we’re normal.”

  The sweet American accent soothed away the remainder of Emmy’s wariness. “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Dinnae look a gift horse in the mouth, lass,” Connor muttered. “Besides, this automobile looks far more exciting than the bus we traveled on before.”

  The car was a sleek, black Vauxhall SUV. There was a reasonable chance it had more horsepower than Connor would ever stand a chance of being in for all his dreams of even owning a car in their future. No doubt the acceleration would slam him back against the seat in a way an A-Model Ford could never hope to.

  And this guy behind the wheel looked like he enjoyed a little speed himself.

  A wicked grin lifted Emmy’s lips. This could be fun.

  For her, at least.

  “Sure, if you’re certain you don’t mind the trip.”

  “No’ at all.”

  Scarlett

  “I wish I’d known about this the first time around.” Scarlett looked down at the dark, downy head resting against her chest and gently stroked the soft skin of her newborn’s back.

  The nurse assisting her bit her lip, but couldn’t disguise her raging curiosity. There wasn’t a person in the walls of the infirmary who wasn’t mad with questions. Not only about how Scarlett had succeeded in hiding her pregnancy so effectively but how her now-toddler had managed to slip past the media’s rabid, watchful eye. Some, like her shift nurse, effectively refrained themselves from asking. Others weren’t as circumspect. Scarlett wanted to bite her tongue for bringing up her personal life, even in casual conversation, but the past five years had broken the habit of caution that had long been ingrained in her.

  “Skin time has shown to be effective with most infants but especially with preemies,” was all the nurse said aloud. She repositioned the baby until she was sprawled against Scarlett’s bare chest, then tugged a sheet up over them. “We’ll just keep her there for a while then try to have you feed her again. It would be beneficial for her to have the father do some skin time, too-oo-ahh…”

  The word trailed off with a whoosh of an exhale as Laird came out of the attached bathroom bare but for his gold pendant and the towel around his waist. He was drying his hair with another towel. His thickly muscled arms flexed while droplets of water sprinkled his massive chest, following the light sprinkling of hair across his pecs and trailing down his rippled abs like a waterfall. Dark hair clung to his thick thighs and calves.

  “I wouldn’t be minding a little skin time there myself,” the nurse murmured then turned beet red when she caught Scarlett’s raised brow. “Beg your pardon, miss. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Figuring the nurse could be forgiven since Laird was indeed a sight to behold, Scarlett allowed herself a small, gratified smile. “He is something, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, aye, I don’t blame you for keeping him for yourself at all. I know I would.”

  Laird looked at Scarlett over the towel as he wiped his face and shot her a wink accompanied by a wicked grin. He’d heard their conversation. Conceited man. As if he didn’t already know how women drooled over him in his own time, now he’d own the twenty-first century as well. She’d have to make sure she did something to temper his ego. Couldn’t have him getting too cocky.

  With one last lingering look, the nurse left them, closing the door behind her.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did that on purpose,” Scarlett scolded him.

  “Me?” His grin was all false innocence. “The bathing chamber is too tiny for me to turn around in. I had to come out to dry myself.”

  “I understand, but the timing is suspect. Has this round of celibacy turned your attentions elsewhere?” She’d meant it as a joke but as they emerged, the words caught with some truth in her throat.

  “Och, my sweet lass.” He released the towels and strode in all his glorious nudity to the hospital bed. He dropped down beside her, and his lips were on hers a second later. Hot, hard, and passionate, with promises of carnal delight that couldn’t be fulfilled quite yet. She moaned with pleasure then a disappointed sigh when he pulled away and stroked her cheek.

  “Beidh mé grá duit that am féin. I told ye that long ago, aye? I will love ye across time itself. This journey of ours only gives me chance to prove it, aye? There will ne’er be another for me. In any time or any place. I’m fore’er yers.”

  Another sigh, this one ripe with satisfaction, squeezed her heart. She raked her nails through his short beard. “And I am yours. Always.”

  He kissed her again with aching tenderness then moved away to pull on his scrubs. Scarlett’s heart rate sped at the sight of his bare buttocks and muscled thighs before they were concealed. How could she be angry with anyone for a similar reaction to such splendor? Truly, she ought to sell tickets. The profits would solve their money problems tenfold.

  Laird toweled his hair dry then slipped his shirt over his head. He’d taken to the convenience of a modern shower with a joy and enthusiasm he hadn’t exhibited for any other aspect of contemporary life. Including the limited clothing available to him. They’d really have to plan a shopping trip when and if Emmy and Connor retrieved her purse.

  At least some underwear.

  Laird needed another layer between certain parts of him and the thin scrubs. No wonder eyes followed him every time he left the room to find food.

  Once dressed, he returned and slipped in close to her on the narrow bed. Gazing down at their bairn, he cupped her head with his hand. “What is this skin time the woman spoke of?”

  “Skin contact is supposed to help with the same things the incubator does,” she told him. “Helping with her body heat and your heartbeat can soothe her, too. You should try it.”

  “Aye, I will.” He nodded. “When I’m certain I willnae crush her. She terrifies me.”

  “But she’s alive and well,” Scarlett whispered. “We did the appro
priate thing in coming, I think.”

  “Aye, now if we can only be assured of returning home when the time comes.” Knowing the subject weighed heavily on them both and didn’t need to be mulled over for the thousandth time, he changed the subject. “Hae ye thought aboot what we should name her?”

  Scarlett dipped her head to press a light kiss to the baby’s pate. “No. I know we’d talked about some names but none of them suit her. We could name her after Emmy,” she proposed. “In thanks for her assistance.”

  “I’d wager she would say she did nothing.”

  A smile lifted her lips. “She would. But I like the name anyway. So maybe.” Her momentary bliss slipped away and her hand swept down the baby’s back again. “Why do you think Donell was so hell bent on saving her? I mean, doesn’t it seem odd after five years for him to come along? Just to make sure she survives?”

  “Do ye believe he has some nefarious purpose?”

  “Emmy told me that Donell said I wasn’t just one of his projects, but the project,” she told him. “Then to insist that the baby must live? I feel like he has some plan for her and I hate I don’t know what it is.”

  Laird slipped his arm around her and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her temple. “He wouldnae save her only to hurt her, lass.”

  “Why then? What could he possibly want with her?”

  “I dinnae ken, but I can assure ye, the moment I see him again, I’ll—”

  A knock at the door cut him off and they both looked up as the nurse stuck her head into the room. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Ms. Thomas, but you have a visitor.”

  Scarlett frowned. “I thought I was clear; there are to be no visitors.” By all reports, the paparazzi still hung about the lobby like wolves waiting for their prey.

  “I know and I do apologize, but she insisted.”

  “Enough of that.” A sharp tone Scarlett knew all too well rose from out in the hall. Five years or five days, the grating sound of Olivia Harrington’s voice was all too recognizable. One time starlet of screen and stage, she knew how to make her words carry. Scarlett cringed and looked up at Laird mouthing her apologies. “I’m going in one way or another so stand aside.”