A Laird for All Time
Page 8
Chapter 12
“What are negative vibes?” Ian asked unable to contain his curiosity as they turned to stroll farther north.
“You know,” Emmy said waving her hand, “his nasty little habit of bringing everything down to a fight when others just want to go happily along their way.”
“You have developed an interesting way of speech in your absence,” he noted. “It is most curious.”
“Let’s not have you take up his fight right now, okay?”
“He likes you, did you know?” Ian asked allowing the subject to change.
Her heart raced like a schoolgirl at the possibility though her mind denied it. “What? That’s ridiculous!” Want her, yes. Like her, no. Nobody ever said the two had to go hand in hand. There was certainly little else about her that he seemed to care for. Indeed, all they had done so far was fight. “Not that I believe you, but why do you say that?”
“Oh, small comments he has made today,” Ian shrugged. “He seems to admire your forthright commentary and new earthiness.”
Emmy’s eyes widened in surprise. It was hard to imagine Connor voicing admiration though she had seen it in his eyes but assumed it was only admiration for her looks. Other than that, his dark eyes had reflected either anger or need every time she had met his gaze the previous day and even just now. He was angry with his wife and it showed. He wanted her…and it showed it the deep turbulent heat of brown eyes. He wanted her and it angered him more. When he’d had her back up to the wall the night before, the want and need in his eyes had been so compelling she had almost lost her self-control. “He does?” she tried for a nonchalant tone.
“Aye, you used to be much more like Dorcas. More serious-minded.”
“Hmmm,” she shook the lustful thoughts off and tucked that all away to think about later. “Well, Dory is what I wanted to talk to you about. But first, I am curious, how did you meet?”
“Dorcas arrived about ten months or so after you left…very well,” Ian sighed at her arch look, “after Heather left. She had not been able to come for the wedding as their mother had been ill and then stayed home afterward to nurse their father through the illness that yo…Heather’s departure had prompted. An illness of the heart, I understand. When he died, the properties not entailed came into Connor’s possession as her sister’s husband since Heather was the elder daughter and there were no other heirs. Dory was his responsibility at that point so, naturally, she came here to live.”
Another dependent here to live off the earl. Emmy had much she wished to say about relatives who came to Duart to sponge off Connor but kept her opinions to herself. “So she came here, met you and you married,” she summed it up.
“Aye, that’s about it.”
“What did Connor think of that?” she couldn’t resist asking.
“He was not here when she arrived,” Ian confessed looking a bit regretful. “He had gone to London searching for…regardless, he was not here. By the time he returned, I had already asked Dorcas to wed with me.” He stared pensively off over the waters shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Ye should have seen him when he returned and first saw her here. His rage was terrible as he naturally thought her to be Heather. It was not for years that he would…could address her directly. I confess they have never gotten on well as I am sure you can tell, but Dorcas…” he trailed off with a little sigh.
“You love her,” Emmy confirmed with some amazement for it seemed he loved her dearly despite her prickly manner.
“Very much,” he grinned sheepishly. “She is not as stern on the inside as she portrays in public. She is softhearted if somewhat proper. She believes deeply in the rules of our society. She simply likes things to be as they should.”
“We call that anal and neurotic where I come from,” she muttered. “So you love her and she’s pregnant now,” she paused as Ian blushed himself. Obviously such talk wasn’t only taboo among the women of Duart. “But it seems that Dory has been risking her health and that of your child in an attempt to keep herself from appearing unattractive to you.”
“What?” he questioned in surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“You haven’t had sex since she found out she was pregnant,” Emmy said matter-of-factly and had trouble hiding her amusement as Ian stammered and blushed.
“Connor said you were more forthright!” he choked in understatement unable to meet her gaze directly.
“Yea, well,” Emmy shrugged, “I’ve never really seen the point of beating around the bush.” Plus it was sort of amusing to watch the shocked faces of those around her when she said something like that. “The point is Dory feels that you don’t find her attractive in her pregnancy and thinks that she needs to camouflage it as much as possible by wearing a corset that does the baby no favors.”
“That woman!” Ian shook his head ruefully. “I had no idea she felt that way. She’s never been one to…well, she’s never been as forthright as you are. That maddening woman!” he ran a hand threw his hair. “Naturally I feel the same attractions toward her. But she’s already lost three bairns…”
“I’m not saying that you’re not justified in your fears, Ian,” she went on as he trailed off, patting his arm. “Given her history, you do need to be careful. You are right to be cautious. Without having examined her, I cannot say to what extent. But I am pretty sure you’re a creative enough man to realize there are a whole load of activities that can take place in a bedroom that don’t involve actual intercourse.” She shot him a wink and dimpled cheek.
He blushed and blustered again in a way she had never seen on a grown man and she laughed out loud. “Oh! You should see your face!”
“Your mouth, woman! Tis almost too much to contend with!” he complained.
“Alright, alright!” Emmy lifted her hands playfully to ward him off. “I’ll try to lay off the shock factor with you. Seriously though, I think I can get her to lay off the corset but her stress over this whole situation between the two of you isn’t good for her or the baby. I’m sure a little extra affection and a big ‘O’ will go a long way toward mellowing her out a bit.”
She gave him a nudge towards the castle with an encouraging smile. “Go on, Ian, git ‘er done.”
Ian got the gist of what she was saying and started back to the castle at a trot shaking his head. About a hundred yards away though he suddenly stopped and stared back at her. “A big ‘O’!” he let out a loud snort and laughed heartily. “Oh, lass, that is prime good humor!” He waved a hand at her and continued home.
Emmy laughed as he finally caught on. How…Victorian they were when it came to discussing the human condition. No talk of body parts or sex out loud lest you make someone uncomfortable. Well, with sex mentioned on TV every twenty seconds or so, she supposed it was easy to become immune to what was once considered inappropriate topics. Between Dr. Phil and Oprah there had been no topic left unexplored. Mentally shrugging, she continued up the shoreline to a large rock where she took a seat and stared out over the water.
Farther northwest a ferry was leaving the island and heading toward the mainland. It was nothing like the larger ferry she had taken which carried eighty cars and nearly a thousand people. She wagered it took much longer than the forty-five minutes her modern ferry had taken as well. No power lines, no big ferry and probably no big pier in Craignure to dock said big ferry at. She was definitely out of her own time. Out of her element. She couldn’t even have a conversation without shocking someone. Pulling her legs up, she wrapped her arms around her knees and propped her chin on them.
What was she to do? Did she even have a choice? If she kept trying to convince Connor that she was not Heather and he finally believed her, what would happen to her? Would he kick her out of the castle? Where would she go? The questions mounted in her mind. It was terrifying, this uncertainty. If she were a weaker willed person, it might bring her to tears. As it was a tear of self-pity escaped and she reached up to wipe it away.
Chapter 13
Despite the fact she hadn’t heard his approach; Emmy refused to jump in surprise. Of course he would come back to fight some more! “Just don’t, Connor. Or do you not remember how to have a conversation that doesn’t involve picking fights with people? Really,” Emmy continued with a raised brow, “who was the last person you had a normal conversation with? Other than your brother,” she added as he started to answer.
He exhaled the start of his reply in a huff. “My solicitor, then,” he replied.
“Okay, someone who isn’t employed by you or completely cowed by you,” she amended.
Connor paused a moment then admitted a bit sheepishly. “Ye’ve made your point. I’ll admit I may have made a habit of being an aggressor in conversation. Perhaps without even realizing that it was so.”
“It’s a classic defense mechanism,” the professional in her told him. “Once bitten, twice shy. The first strike mentality. I don’t know the medical side too well, but you seem pretty textbook to me.”
“I do?” Connor had no idea what she was talking about but loved the soft husky sound of her voice. It flowed over him but did not soothe. Rather her voice thrummed across his senses birthing an awareness that he had not felt in many years. While she frustrated him a great deal, in the end she almost brought peace to his mind when he allowed it. He felt alive and good. He had forgotten how that felt. Despite the anger and arguments they seemed to have, he could not stay away from her. Could not resist coming after her when Ian had returned without her.
“Let it go. Remember?” she whispered softly resting her cheek against her knees so her face was turned toward him. “You are fairly likable when you relax a bit and I bet you’d do pretty well as a happy man.”
“A happy man?” he repeated as if the words were foreign to him. Now how would that feel? Good, he supposed. Connor took her hand and flattened it between his two open palms. His skin tingled and warmed next to hers. This is why he could not stay away from her. Indeed, he wanted her so. He was wholly enthralled by her. Two sleepless nights had shown him that. He knew that he should stay away from her, knew it and eschewed it. He wanted to be near her. The morning had been a long one without seeing her. But it wasn’t just desire any longer, he admitted to himself. He simply liked her. Liked that she felt comfortable enough with him, with everyone, not to put on a polite façade to the world. She was what she was. And despite her endless sarcasm and occasionally biting remarks, didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. She wanted to help him despite the animosity that should have existed between them.
And how soft and comfortable she seemed today! Perched on the rock with her knees to her chest and arms wrapped around them as he had approached. Face turned to the sun and cast in its brilliance. She had not risen or thought to rise and greet him formally. She was just like that.
The breeze teased a strand of her long hair from its clasp creating a rippling effect that was almost hypnotic. He wanted to touch it again to see if it was as soft as he remembered. When a strayed farther to tease her cheek and nose, he took the opportunity to tuck it back behind her ear. Her bright blue eyes met his wide with awareness. At the open neck of her blouse, he could see her pulse beating rapidly tempting his fingers to trail down her throat to feel the throbbing as it increased. A slight smile turned the corner of her lips and his heart in turn.
Just that tiny gesture and he was hers. No anger, no angst. He felt a corresponding gladness well within him. Suddenly he knew that being with her, making love to her would be the most liberating of experiences. The driving passion, pounding of hearts and bodies would be a balm to his soul as well as a release of body and desire.
“Tell me about the woman you were going to marry,” Emmy asked. The look on his face was unsettling and she wondered desperately what he was thinking, she wasn’t so brave to voice that question and she needed a distraction. “Had you asked her already?”
“Mary Guthrie,” he told her entwining her fingers with his as he forced his thoughts in a new direction with a clearing of his throat. “No, I had not asked for her hand yet. Her father owns Duart House not far from here.”
“Really? I thought the MacLean’s owned all the land around here?” she tried to remember that page of her guidebook. Emmy glanced down at their joined hands. Electricity flowed from the contact but at the same time was comforting. She squeezed his hand in return.
“We had,” Connor confirmed. “My family had been on this land for 300 years before the Jacobean rebellion had the MacLean’s fleeing the rage of the queen. The castle was burned and left in ruin. The land itself sold and resold until part was bought and built on. A Colonel Campbell built Duart House twenty years ago but lost his fortune in investments as a result of your War Between the States and sold it to Arbuthnot Guthrie who owns it now. It was then that my father was able to finally buy back the castle which was little more than a shell at the time.” He twisted and look back at the castle. “We have worked hard to restore it and rebuild it to what it is today. Only the outer walls of the castle are original. The entire interior has been much rebuilt. Ye’ll recall the interior courtyard is much more modern than the outer walls.”
“You have done a wonderful job,” she praised freely.
“I have merely continued the work of my father,” he shrugged but squeezed her hand again in appreciation of her words. “The first dozen years were spent just rebuilding the structure itself. The interior has only been worked on these past eight or nine years.” Fixing what he had thought had been the main reason his wife had fled. Bringing the castle up beyond the hovel Heather had complained about when they first met. He glanced at the lady at his side waiting for the anger to come, but to his surprise, it did not. “I had thought recently to do more. Mary Guthrie is her father’s only daughter. If I could not purchase the entire property back from them, I might at least gain a portion through her dowry.”
“You would have married her for land then?” Emmy asked, amazed.
He nodded and added, “And for money. It has taken much our fortune to carry out the restoration so far. It will not hold out forever.”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered tugging her hand away from him. With a sigh, he let it go.
“Aye, well, I married ye because my father asked it of me. Apparently there is not much I’d not do for my family.” Emmy turned to scowl at him but found amusement dancing in his eyes instead.
“That was rude,” she fussed. “Frankly, I think you do too much for your family. How can you let them live with you like a bunch of bloodsuckers and not contribute anything in return? Do they flock here for a free ride?”
Understanding her basic question, Connor waved it away. “They are ladies and gentlemen…and my family. They are not expected to work and it is my responsibility as laird to provide for them as I do for all those of my clan.”
“Bullshit!” Emmy countered with wide eyes shocking him with her speech. “You don’t even seem to like any of them! How can you tell me you don’t feel like they are a weight hanging around your neck…and wallet? What happens when you don’t have the fortune to support them all? Will you continue to be the only one working while they live in the lap of luxury, waited on hand and foot?”
He shrugged unconcerned.
She blinked once then letting out an amazed breath. “Wow, you are a bigger man than I am,” she admitted with incredulity shaking her head.
“I should hope so.” There was a part of him that was appalled by her base language. He had never heard a woman curse so often as she. Fortunately that part of him was growing smaller with each moment he spent in her company. There was another part of him that was delighted by her; by the instant familiarity she projected to everyone she met. It was if she knew no stranger, knew no bounds from those she met.
“Wait a minute. Isn’t Duart House called Talully or something like that now?”
“Toro
say,” Connor corrected. “Aye, Guthrie has said the two properties now owned by different families should be named differently to avoid confusion. He has named it Torosay Castle. Yet most locals still think of it as Duart House.”
“I had tickets to that,” she whispered forlornly staring out over the sound.
“Tickets?” he wondered aloud, curious at what she meant by that.
“For the house, gardens, gallery and tearoom. Open from 10:30 to 5 pm,” she sighed.
“Guthrie is selling tickets to view his house? And gardens? They are nothing worth spending a halfpence on!” he stood in outrage.
“Six and a half pounds,” she corrected thinking she might be amused by messing with him if she wasn’t so depressed by her situation.
“Good God! That is highway robbery!” he sputtered, his already heavy brogue thickening.
“I know,” she nodded sadly, unable to stop herself. “Duart was only about five pounds.”
“Someone is selling tickets to view my home?” His confusion overrode the anger. “Who is doing this? Someone in Craignure? Oban?”
Emmy rose and took his hand pulling him to his feet. “You can get them on the Net, Connor.”
“What net?”
“Never mind, Connor,” she turned guiding him back toward the castle. “It was just a joke.”
“Yer new humor is often befuddling, Heather,” he shook his head as he allowed himself to be led back home. She had claimed to be joking but her voice had been wistful, even sad. He wondered for a moment at what reasons she could have to be upset. What she might have left behind in coming to Duart. “I often understand nothing yer saying to me, ye know.”
“Well things are pretty different where I come from, you know?”
“It seems so,” he grunted. “I traveled through Baltimore once while I was looking for ye but did not think to stop there. Did ye truly attend the university there?”