Though Connor knew the mere sight of her should still enrage him, he knew only that he wanted to hold her and shelter her. He wanted to make love to her passionately, tenderly. Madness, he thought again.
“I have lost my mind,” he murmured aloud and raised his fist again to knock upon her door. By all rights, he could go in and have her knowing that she wanted him as well. She had responded to his touch. Had welcomed it, even. But as he started to reach for the door, he knew he couldn’t do it. So much had changed. She had changed. He felt drawn to her in ways he had never imagined lest experienced. Apart from her crazy insistence that she was not who everyone knew she was, Heather was a much deeper person today than she had been ten years ago. Maybe that maturity and this attraction were worth exploring.
He pushed away from the door and headed to his room.
Chapter 10
Scraping metal against brick woke Emmy late the next morning to find Margo in her room stoking the fire. The room chilled and damp against the cold October outside.
“Ugh,” Emmy moaned rolling over. She hadn’t slept at all last night. Wanting and unsatisfied lust had kept her a wake for most of it. Other troubling thoughts had kept her tossing and turning for the rest. How did she get here? How was she supposed to get back? What was she supposed to do about Connor? Here was a troubled guy who a little basic therapy could probably do a world of good for. She had the feeling that underneath all that angst and anger was a romantic. A really great guy who just wanted someone to love and be loved right back by. She wondered what it would be like to be that lucky woman. What it would be like to have a man of such strong emotions direct love in your direction. Probably the most fulfilling feeling in the world, she thought, and envied the one who would finally gain all that from him.
Emmy groaned again at her idiocy. What was she thinking? She’d only known the man for one day, for Pete’s sake! It was just lust! She didn’t want anything more than that! Her heart rebelled with a lurch and she felt an overwhelming urge to save Connor from himself. For herself.
“Margo, what time is it?”
“A bit after noon, m’lady,” the maid answered. “Mrs. MacLean said I should let you sleep since you had traveled and such. But luncheon is to be served soon and you’ll want to be up for that.”
Remembering the never-ending parade of food that had accompanied five courses the night before, Emmy stifled yet another moan. Too much food! She couldn’t eat like that every meal of every day. She’d weigh as much as a horse in no time. “I don’t suppose it would be possible to just get a bowl of Cocoa Puffs around here?”
“M’lady?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Emmy fingered through her long hair as she climbed out of bed allowing Margo to help her into a robe and shoving her feet into some slippers to keep them off the cold floor. “Why do you keep calling me that, anyway?” she asked on her way to the bathroom.
“M’lady?” Margo questioned. “‘Tis only proper. You are the countess after all.”
“Ahh, that’s right,” Emmy wrinkled her nose staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed red with dark circles below. She looked as bad as she felt. “The countess.” It had an ominous ring to it. Of course, in this time and place, the earl and countess didn’t even share a bedroom. If she were the countess in truth…
Emmy drew herself up short rejecting the thought. That was not what she wanted! She had her new job waiting for her at a women’s clinic in Baltimore. A job that she had worked and sacrificed for. There was a new life as a practicing physician coming up for her. She had plans!
“Mrs. MacLean and Susan will be arriving shortly with more gowns for you to choose from. The laird has sent for the seamstress to come later this week to fit you with some clothes of your own.” Margo went on unaware of Emmy’s turbulent thoughts.
He did, huh?
A sharp rap at the door announced the arrival of Dorcas and her maid bearing an armload of clothes. Emmy moved to help as the young woman tossed the pile on the bed earning a surprised glance from both women. “Thanks, Dorcas, I appreciate the loan of the clothes. I hope I’m not leaving you short in your own closet though.”
“Not at all,” she replied shortly. “These are just basic foundations, shirtwaists and skirts for day wear that I am currently unable to wear because of my delicate condition, so there is plenty for you to choose from.”
“Delicate condition?” Emmy repeated and then frowned at the other woman. “Oh, you mean your pregnancy?”
Dorcas flushed hotly. “Yes, Mr. MacLean and I are expecting our first child.”
Emmy eyed Dorcas’s figure critically with the eye of an experienced OB. Well along but with a while to go. “When are you due then? In the spring?”
“I am not sure, of course, but I expect perhaps six weeks or so,” Dorcas was still blushing and refusing to meet Emmy’s gaze.
“You don’t know? Haven’t you seen a doctor?” Emmy’s eyes widened. “Six weeks! Are you telling me that you are nearly eight months pregnant?”
“This isn’t a topic fit for polite conversation.”
Waving her off imperiously, Emmy repeated, “Seriously? Eight months?”
“I believe so,” Dory frowned at Emmy’s incredulous tone.
“No way!” To Emmy’s mind she didn’t look more than six months pregnant or early in her seventh. There was no way she was heading into her ninth soon! “Dory, are you wearing a corset?”
“Of course! The correct foundations are critical…”
“Dorcas MacLean!” Emmy interrupted in her most superior doctor’s voice. “You should not be wearing that when you are pregnant! The baby must have room to grow! And to not know how far along you are! To have not seen a doctor! Well!” Emmy flung her hands in outrage. “I will examine you then!”
“What!”
“What!” the maids echoed incredulously.
Emmy ignored them all. “Dory, I am a Johns-Hopkins trained doctor. I deliver babies and take care of expecting mothers for a living. It’s what I do. You must let me check to make sure you are doing alright. Especially if you have been wearing that corset for what? Almost eight months?”
Dorcas backed uneasily toward the door. “I don’t think…”
Emmy grinned an evil little grin. “But surely you trust your own sister to help you, don’t you?”
Dory fled, but Emmy was determined to win in the end. Imagine not having basic health care during pregnancy! And if there were no doctors nearby, it made her wonder what they did in cases of basic illness. Did they even have aspirin yet?
Emmy peppered Margo and Susan with those questions as they dressed her in the daily wear similar to that she had seen Dory in that first day. A high-necked blouse which Emmy refused to button all the way up, a dark blue wool skirt under which Emmy allowed only one petticoat, no corset! And her own boots rather than the torturous, skinny-toed little shoes they presented. It would have to do, Emmy thought. She was not in this for the long haul and refused to suffer the constraint of that corset any more than she had to. She had had to call for help last night just to get ready for bed, for Christ’s sake!
Emmy went down for lunch an hour later and was disappointed to learn that Connor rarely joined the others for any meal other than dinner. She wondered where and what he ate. She sat through three formal courses of a meal picking here and there between the heavy sauces to the fish and vegetables as they came along. It should have been much lighter than it was considering an even larger meal would follow that night. She did her best to eat a moderate portion while thankful to have been seated near Dory where she could pester her freely.
“You really shouldn’t keep that corset cinched up all the time,” Emmy told her firmly. “It isn’t good for that baby and I am telling you right now. It must stop.”
“I have been having pains when I do not wear it,” she confessed though clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “They frighten me. It seemed easier this way.”
Emmy took Dor
y’s hand compassionately. “Sure it might be easier, but don’t you want to have a healthy baby, Dory?”
“Of course I do,” Dory whispered. After an anxious glance around to make sure no one could overhear her, added, “but Ian hasn’t visited me since I found out. I don’t want to appear even more unattractive to him,” she protested while blushing furiously over her confession.
“Visited you? Oh,” the realization struck Emmy as Dory flushed scarlet. Really, Dory was a bit of a…well, prig, wasn’t she? Stereotypical Victorian. Emmy chewed thoughtfully on a bit of bread. “How long have you been married to Ian?” she asked trying to backpedal from the topic that made Dory so uncomfortable.
“Almost nine years now,” she replied, clearly thankful for the change of subject. “I came here shortly after Heather left, after my father died. Ian and I married almost immediately.”
“So you’ve been married for nine years and this is your first pregnancy?”
Dory shook her head uncomfortably. “Well, no, I had lost three babies before.”
“Well, I would wager that Ian’s reluctance to ‘visit’ you has less to do with your appearance and more to do with fear.”
“Fear?”
“Naturally he’s afraid that any intercourse between you might prompt another miscarriage,” Emmy rolled her eyes. “Men are such morons. Dory, I’ll talk to Ian...”
“Oh, you mustn’t!” she protested glancing fearfully up the table at her husband.
“Oh, I must,” Emmy countered firmly. “I will help you take care of yourself and help him take care of you too. Stressing out over this thing with Ian isn’t going to help you carry this one to term.”
“Oh, dear,” Dory muttered twisting her napkin in her lap.
“After nine years of marriage, Ian can surely accept that pregnancy will change your body if he loves you enough.” Emmy paused considering that idea. This was another century after all. “Does he? Do you? I mean, did you marry for love or some misguided arranged thing?”
“I loved Ian the moment I saw him,” she declared sincerely. “And I know he feels the same.”
“Well, I’ll talk to him then,” Emmy assured her with a professionally compassionate pat on her hand. “In the meantime, I’ll work on a diet and exercise schedule for you that will work with what’s available here and, of course, I will have to examine you at some point. But, I’m serious – no more corset.”
“I must wear something, umm, Heather,” she looked uncomfortable for the first time addressing her as such.
“Leave that to me,” Emmy assured her. “I think I have an idea that might do the trick.”
After luncheon, Emmy gathered Margo and Susan into her room. Taking one of Dory’s older corsets, she had the maids first remove the steel boning. With a few quick sketches and a visual demonstration on her own bra, Emmy showed them how they could convert the corset into a short bustier that was secured by a shorter series of lacing up the back. It extended only a few inches below the bust but gave the breast support that Emmy was sure that Dory would never go without under her white blouses. Combined with a heavier chemise, perhaps it would provide enough layers to allow Dory enough security to forgo the corset.
Chapter 11
Leaving the women to their work, Emmy begged a coat from the butler and decided to take a walk down by the water. This time she went around the right side of the castle and along the edge of the low wall that fell perpendicular to the castle until it tapered away. Here the grade to the lower plain was still steep and rocky but traversable. Gathering all the skirts up in one hand, Emmy used her other hand for balance as she picked her way down the slope. Inwardly laughing at the sight she presented, she was grateful to drop the skirts when she got to the bottom.
The plain area stretched about 100 feet to the water’s edge. Off to her right, just behind the castle, the terrain was rocky but to the left where the shoreline curved in there was a pebbled beach where the waters of the sound lapped gently against the rocks.
Emmy headed in that direction marveling at the beauty of the October afternoon. The overcast skies of the previous day were gone leaving blue skies with just a few high clouds. The air was crisp and cool with a gentle breeze. The waters in the sound were fairly calm, the coastline of mainland Scotland was clear and seemed closer than the long ferry ride had suggested. This is what she had come to Scotland to see, to feel. Rugged beauty. It seemed so untouched. The power lines that had looped their way along the shore on her arrival were absent leaving her view of the Sound unobscured.
The wind was brisk and as Emmy drew in a deep breath she found the chill of the air in her lungs to be energizing in contrast the peaceful feeling the natural stillness around her inspired. Drowsiness from the big lunch and lack of sleep faded away. Margo had told her that most of the ladies of the castle took long naps in the afternoon which Emmy had thought curious before but now understood. Such a big meal did leave a person thinking about sleeping it off, but it was a bad habit. A vigorous walk was a much healthier response, she thought, as she continued up the coastline in long strides.
The sounds of activity from the castle faded as she continued. There were no signs of other people and she felt for a moment like the only person on earth. Her mind calmed, the mental churning of the past thirty-six hours receded against the call of the gulls and roar of the wind and water. No machinery, just nature. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard such a complete absence of technology. No hum of airplanes, cars. No one talking on their cell phone. Emmy breathed in the fresh, clean air and closed her eyes. Just peace.
Of course it wasn’t meant to last. It was not long before the sound of hoofbeats had Emmy turning north up the coast expectantly. Two riders approached. As they neared, she recognized Connor and Ian. What magnificent men they were, Emmy thought. Real men. Oh, plenty of the male residents she had worked with had worked out at the gym regularly, but none of them had the natural manliness these brothers displayed. Despite the lack of convenience in the nineteenth century, perhaps there was something to be said for this time, she thought.
The men pulled up their horses next to her and dismounted. Their garb was more formal today. Jackets, vests, ties and hats as well. Though it all hung easily from Ian’s relaxed frame, Emmy thought Connor seemed as uncomfortable in it as he had his evening wear the night before. Ian gave her a formal little bow. “My lady! How goes your day? I am surprised that you’d venture out into this cold when few ladies would do so.”
Since it was probably near fifty degrees, Emmy wasn’t sure how to respond to that so offered only, “It’s a beautiful day. I did not sleep well last night at all,” she slanted a look toward Connor. “I thought the cool breeze would be refreshing. What have you guys been up to today?”
Ian looked uncomfortable with the question. “We took a ride up to one of our neighbors this afternoon.”
He glanced uncertainly at Connor who showed no hesitation in responding. “I had been courting the daughter of one our neighbors and thought it fitting to give them the courtesy of a personal visit to inform them of your return before they heard of it through the gossip mills.”
Emmy stared at him as the word sunk in. “Courting? As in dating?”
“I do not know this word ‘dating’ you use, but aye, courting,” Connor gave her a hard look. “I was considering marrying again…until you returned, of course.”
Emmy arched a brow. “Of course. I’m not much of a legal mind,” she offered, “but wouldn’t that be considered bigamy?”
“It has been widely accepted for some time, my dear,” Connor clarified, “that you had met with some misfortune over the past ten years since no one had seen or heard from you in all that time. None of the investigators we had hired had been able to find signs of you. I myself had traveled to the Americas twice in search of you.”
“I’m not…”
Connor waved his hand cutting her denial short. “I do not wish to hear your arguments and denials again today.”
“Perhaps I should leave you to your argument,” Ian turned away leading his horse.
Emmy glared at Connor but turned to Ian. “Actually Ian, I’d like to talk to you about something, if you have a moment.”
“To me?”
“Yes, a little something has come up with Dory.”
“She’s well?” he asked anxiously. “Nothing has happened?”
“She’s fine,” she assured him quickly. The look of panic on his face said a great deal. Clearly he cared deeply for his wife which would be useful since he would be more likely to sacrifice for her wellbeing. “Just something else, if you don’t mind a quick walk together?”
“Not at all,” he looked relieved and offered his arm to Emmy.
“Shoo, Mr. Cranky-Pants,” Emmy waved off Connor with a frown as he scowled down at them. “We don’t need any of your negative vibes around right now.”
“Cranky-Pants?” Connor echoed with a haughtily raised brow.
“Just go!” She made little shooing motions with her hands. “Go!” He shrugged and remounted in a smooth motion that impressed Emmy. Taking the reins for Ian’s mount, he spurred them into motion back to the castle.
Connor wondered what had just happened. He had not intended to fight with Heather today. The visit to the neighboring estate had been an uncomfortable one and he had been awash with irritation over that unpleasant duty on the entire ride back to Duart. And there had been Heather. Walking along the coast, looking lovely beyond belief in the afternoon sun with her cheeks and nose reddened by the cold winds. She had looked so relaxed and comfortable…cheerful that she had immediately rubbed him the wrong way. Why should this be so easy for her when she was turning his life upside down? She did not seem to care that she had interrupted the course of his life with her return at all. And then to deny her identity once again! It had been the last straw. Connor galloped back toward the castle aware that Heather and Ian’s eyes followed him along the way. He fumed silently once again. And what were negative vibes?
A Laird for All Time Page 7
