“Ye don’t do that.” He looked surprised that she said as much.
“Oh, but I do.” She laughed at herself as she took another sip. She slipped off her little shoes and relaxed into the chair tucking a foot up underneath her and allowing the other to swing freely. “When my friends are late meeting me somewhere, like a club or something, I always imagine that they were in a horrific car wreck and are lying bleeding and broken on the side of the street. I sit at weddings contemplating how long it will last. When guys ask me out, it’s never because they like me, it’s just because they want a piece of ass. That kind of stuff.”
Connor looked appalled at her words and she laughed again. “Oh, yea, like you’re Mr. Positive Thinking.”
He finally offered a smile. “Ye just don’t seem that way…outwardly.”
“I don’t want to be. Things just pop in my head. Weird stuff. Stephen King-y kind of things,” she told him forgetting that he wouldn’t know who the famous author was. “Worst case scenarios. But that’s why I do obstetrics,” she explained. “Babies are all light and possibilities. Innocence and new-beginnings. Nothing is better or brighter than bringing a baby into the world.”
In that moment her face lit up and he could tell from the glow within that she spoke the truth in that moment. She did love it and all it entailed. That radiant light only enhanced her beauty. He grimaced and turned away from the thought. “Yet ye aren’t happy for Ian and Dory.”
Emmy swished the wine around her glass and hedged a bit. “Oh, I am happy for them. I mean twins are a ton of work but two-times the fun, you know?”
“But?”
“But, in this time and in this place, delivering twins could be…” she trailed off with a shudder of apprehension and shrugged. “I’m just afraid for a delivery under these conditions. It’s like my personal nightmare.”
“And yer Baltimore is safer?”
“Where I come from, it would be infinity safer,” she clarified with complete honesty.
Connor imagined his brother’s despair in the face of the loss of his wife or child. It would ruin him, Connor knew. Ian centered his entire world around Dory and had been devastated by the loss of the previous babes in the past years. “It would help her if ye were here though, wouldn’t it? If ye know more than our doctor or the midwives from the mainland, ye could help her have a safe delivery, couldn’t ye?”
“Experience always helps, but Connor, I’m just not sure about what could go wrong. There could be complications. There’s just no way to know here,” she vented in frustration.
“There’s never a way to know anywhere,” he argued. “Ye just have to take it as it comes and hope for the best.”
“Next you’ll be saying that whatever happens, it’s the will of God,” she laughed and took another long sip of the wine. “Believe me, Connor, there are ways to know.”
Connor was momentarily affronted that she would mock the power of God’s will, but did not venture from the topic. “Anything I can do to help ye I will,” he assured her. “Whatever ye need, I will get it for ye.”
“Well, a peek into a well-stocked medical bag wouldn’t go amiss,” she admitted. “I’d like to see what’s available to work with.”
“Consider it done.” He raised his glass and she saluted him in turn.
“There is one other thing that you could do for me, Connor,” she said softly after a long period of companionable silence running a finger pensively along the rim of her glass.
“What’s that?” he asked his voice full of dread.
“Believe me,” was her simple request.
Connor studied her for a long while. She was slouched back in the chair, sitting on one foot while she swung the other idly back and forth. The way she leaned against the arm showed a complete lack of decorum, something Heather had prized. But still…“I canna,” he insisted.
“Why not?”
Because he wanted her to be Heather, he realized. He wanted her to be his long-lost wife, to belong to him, to have a life in Scotland and family worth staying here for even if that family was her sister and future niece or nephew or both. If she was just a doctor from Baltimore there was no reason for her to stay, nothing to keep her here. If he admitted to her or anyone else that he had considered for even a moment that she was not Heather MacLean! Why then he might as well hold the door open himself as she left!. He didn’t want that to happen yet. There were possibilities here, something between them that he meant to explore.
With her he felt alive, not awash with the anger that had ruled his life for so long. She made him smile and even laugh out loud, something he felt like he hadn’t done in years. Heather had brought that to him and he intended to keep her, even after the pain she had caused.
Yet, strangely, he didn’t feel that anger in him any longer. That burning hatred and humiliation. Had he forgiven her those trespasses? When did that happen? How had that happened? Had this new attraction between them, the affection he felt for her allowed him to look beyond the past? Or even forgive? Connor shook his head and wondered.
When his silence reined, Emmy whispered the terrible truth which had been plaguing her, “I wish I was your Heather, Connor. There was a moment last night when I wanted nothing more. But I am not.”
“Ye are,” he insisted.
Emmy got to her feet clenching her fists in frustration as she stuffed her feet back into her slippers. “You are the most stubborn ass of a man I have ever met!” She stomped her foot and turned to leave the room.
“Wait!” he called rising as well fishing for something to keep her here. “I was hoping we might go for a ride together this afternoon!”
Emmy flung her arms in the air. “Argh!’ she vented as she turned to flee, but Connor caught her arm spinning her back to him.
Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he caught her gaze with his and held it. His thumbs caressed her cheeks as she glared up at him. “What?!” she demanded.
“I am trying to ‘let it go’ as ye suggested,” he whispered gruffly. “I am trying, but can ye not give something in return?”
“I am not your wife,” she stated stubbornly.
“I know. Have I not already conceded that I have no wife?” Connor leaned closer and nuzzled her cheek cutting off her protest. “I have been thinking that we might try again, my love. Much has changed. We have the chance to get to know each other this time. We have both matured, have we not? Is there not an attraction between us now that was not present before?”
Emmy could not stop her head from falling back allowing him access to her neck as he began to kiss and suck lightly bringing shivers of desire as she clutched his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Man, you are such an idiot,” she whispered in a low tone that belied the harsh words.
“If wanting ye makes me one, than I submit to yer judgment,” his lips traveled back up and caught hers in a searing kiss that had her knees giving way. He slid his arms around her and pulled her close as she wrapped her own around his neck.
‘Holy cow, this man can kiss!’ she thought fuzzily as his open mouth met hers again and again before settling over hers more forcibly. She could feel the frenzy that was building in him and felt the answering cry of her body in return. God, she wanted him! Would it be so wrong?
His big hands came up to cup her breasts just as a heavy rapping sounded on the door of the study. Jumping back, she caught herself on a nearby table as the door swung open missing her by inches as Ian bounded into the room.
“Connor! I have news!” he announced enthusiastically with a smile before raising his eyebrows on seeing Emmy peeking from behind the door and Connor studiously rearranging papers from the front of his desk. “Or maybe, you have already heard,” he amended with a grin.
“Aye, Heather has just been telling me the good news,” Connor returned his brother’s smile and held out a hand for Ian’s handshake.
“I’ll just return to my room then,” she mumbled as she rounded the door torn between embarrassment at nea
rly being caught in a compromising position and irritation that Connor had again addressed her by that name.
“What about that ride?” Connor questioned as she left.
Emmy continued on but her answer trailed sarcastically out behind her. “Not now, dear, I have a headache!”
Chapter 19
A medical bag was delivered to Emmy’s room by a footman late that afternoon. She had jumped when the knock sounded thinking that Connor had come to barrage her senses and sensibility once again. She told herself that she was not disappointed when it was only the delivery of the case. In actuality, it was more of a small square suitcase, hard sided with two buckle closures. Curiosity overriding dissatisfaction, she opened it up and sorted the items on the bed. Most looked familiar, she thought thankfully, though she realized it was more of a surgical bag than one for everyday medical calls. There were various clamps and forceps as well as several scalpels. Though made of steel, all had brass fittings and wooden handles that were more decorative than utilitarian. A stethoscope, orthopedic hammer, bandages with a spool of wire, some thread and two packets of needles. Lifting the tray underneath, Emmy found a tourniquet, small augur and a hacksaw.
Emmy shuddered as she put the tray back in place. Amputations. Before modern medicine, infections had often lead to gangrene and eventually amputation. She certainly didn’t want to wield the saw that performed the removal of a limb. It was part of the reason she had not chosen general surgery. C-Section was one thing, taking a leg completely another.
Of course while she considered the medical advances of this time to be horrifying and outdated, the medical community probably thought themselves to be advanced. Perhaps they were when compared to the previous decade or two. But Emmy knew the future, knew what the next 100 years of medical science would bring. What they would be able to diagnose and treat without ever once cutting into a body. Here, she might as well be figuratively banging a wooden club over someone’s head.
Thinking that what she knew about medicine, just the knowledge alone could save lives in this time, Emmy briefly considered what she might have to offer this time when a simple cold might lead to an early death. It bore consideration.
She was repacking the bag when Margo arrived carrying yet another gown. Thankful for the distraction, Emmy teased, “Time to put on the steel cage again, hmm Margo? What am I wearing tonight? Will it sing to me?”
The girl smiled at Emmy’s playful attitude. “Aye, m’lady, it will. Actually Mr. MacLean sent it along with his thanks for helping out Mrs. MacLean this afternoon. It’s a new gown the lady had ordered before she found out about the babe and they want you to have it.”
“They didn’t need to do that,” Emmy protested. “Dory has sent enough clothes already.”
“Mrs. MacLean said to tell that where the others were a loan, this one was to be a gift,” the maid corrected her. She laid the gown across the bed as Emmy stared down at it.
“Oh, wow, it’s amazing,” she whispered in awe reaching out to touch the lace and beads that served as the sleeves. The label said Worth and even Emmy, a hundred years away from home, knew what that meant. “The House of Worth.” The aqua blue velvet bodice was heavily decorated with the embroidery of silver threads and crystals. The skirt, however, flowed freely unadorned until about a foot from the hem where the crystal beading and embroidery resumed and did an intricate dance around the bottom of the full skirt. “I cannot accept it,” she insisted. “It is too much.”
“Mrs. MacLean thought you might say so and told me to tell you she wouldn’t follow your instructions if you didn’t take it,” Margo bit her lip to hide a grin as she delivered this bit of information.
“Blackmail!” Emmy accused wagging a finger. “I see how she is. Fine, I’ll wear it. It’ll be a horrible burden, but I’ll wear it”
The two women laughed together until Margo offered in all seriousness. “It might me a bit of a burden, m’lady. There may be no tournure but I’ll have to lace you up tighter to fit in it.”
“Now you tell me!” she moaned and Margo laughed again. Emmy enjoyed the maid’s merry company. She was about twenty and recently married to one of the castle’s footmen. Margo was a bit rustic. She’d had little education and knew only the work she did at the castle. But she was a happy sort of girl, always cheerful, and her good moods infectious. “How come you don’t have to cinch yourself up all the time?” Emmy complained eying the maid’s gray dress with its lace cap and apron.
“I do, m’lady,” Margo countered. “Just not as tightly as you need to be to wear these gowns. Most of the ladies are laced tighter than the staff.”
“There’s one benefit of being a working girl, I guess,” Emmy offered and Margo giggled with a nod. “It’s just madness to be so concerned with this whole ‘proper foundations’ thing,” she continued as Margo helped her out of her daily wear and turned her to lace her tighter. Emmy gripped the post of the bed and pictured Mammy lacing up Scarlett O’Hara as Scarlett held on to the bedpost in Gone With the Wind. “At least I know why they made beds like this now,” she grunted as she hung on tight while Margo pulled with all her might.
It was worth it, Emmy thought, to see the expression in Connor’s eyes as he watched her enter the drawing room before dinner. Interesting that she had been so angry with him just a couple hours before, yet felt no ire now that she was once again in his company. No hard feelings. With a snap of her fingers she was once again back to being putty in his presence. It was so unlike her.
The heat lit and flared as his gaze swept her from top to bottom. She was glad she had let Margo do her hair tonight. The maid had twisted pieces this way and that, braiding others and weaving them all into an elaborate knot that covered the back of her head from crown to nape. Emmy had twisted between two mirrors to get a look at it and was impressed with the girl’s work. The elaborate hairdo combined with some make up from Dory and this gown, she felt like an angel drenched in diamonds rather than mere crystals.
As she made her way across the room, having eyes for nothing but him, Emmy was surprised to be stopped by Connor’s aunt Eleanor. The old matron pounded the floor with her cane and waved Emmy over imperiously. “Heard what you did for Dory today, my lady.”
“It was nothing,” she returned in all honesty.
The old woman sniffed and pounded her cane down once again. “Nevertheless, well done of you. I was hoping you might be able to help with my maid.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s reaching the end of her time and will probably deliver soon,” the older woman told her as Emmy nodded in understanding. “I was hoping you might condescend to help her when her time comes. There hasn’t been a good midwife around here for years.”
“I am not a midwife,” Emmy ground out through gritted teeth. She forced herself to relax. “But of course, I will look in on her if you like.”
“Lovely. I would most appreciate it.” The woman tapped her cane again as if to mark the end of the conversation. With a nod, Emmy continued to Connor scowling now where a moment before she had been smiling.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she reached him. “What did Eleanor say to ye? I heard the old bags hadn’t seen fit to speak with ye since ye’ve been here.”
She realized that it was true. While she had listened in on many conversations these past several days, she had only been included in those where Dory was present. Even then no one addressed her directly other than to greet her. Emmy hadn’t noticed or cared having so many other things on her mind. “She called me a midwife,” she confessed with a sniff.
“Ye don’t care for that too much, do ye?” he grinned. “I’d get used to it if I were ye. That’s what they call a woman who delivers babies here.”
“I didn’t go endure a six-year residency to be called a midwife,” she protested emphatically. “It’s so base. Degrading.”
“Well, as I said, get used to it.”
She snorted, “Not likely.”
&nbs
p; He laughed out loud for the second time in as many days again drawing the attention of his family to him. His aunts traded smiles with each other and looked on in approval, Emmy thought, as if it pleased them to see Connor so amused. Perhaps if they spoke to him every once in a while, he would never have come to be in the state he had been when she arrived, she thought testily still smarting from the midwife comment. Why had they never taken it on themselves to save him from himself? It boggled her mind that he was so untouchable to his own family. Of course, she had no family remaining of her own, so perhaps she was in no position to be critical of their family dynamic.
“Ye did not give me a chance to compliment ye on yer appearance tonight yet,” he commented.
“But you did the moment I came in,” she teased turning her attention to him. “Words were not necessary. I could tell you liked the dress.”
“It is not just the dress but the woman inside,” he murmured seductively raising her hand and placing a kiss on her palm. “Ye’re stunning.”
She curled her fingers around the tingling he left behind. “Thank you.”
“Ye have not answered my question.”
“Which question was that?” she asked.
“Whether ye would ride with me.”
“Well, the afternoon is long gone, so I guess it’s too late to matter,” Emmy responded evasively.
“Alas, there is always tomorrow,” he teased.
Emmy sighed knowing there was no way she was going to be able to gracefully decline. “Here’s the thing, Connor, I don’t know how to ride a horse,” she admitted.
“Nonsense, I know verra well ye can.” A puzzled frown wrinkled his brow. “Perhaps ye’re merely out of practice?”
“I haven’t been on a horse since Girl Scout camp in the 5th grade,” she said honestly. “So, I’m just going to say, thanks, but no thanks.”
A Laird for All Time Page 12
