“Do you miss all this?” Scarlett asked Emmy.
Silence fell for a prolonged moment. “Sometimes.” Then after a lengthier pause, “You?”
“Given what we saw out there, what do you think?” she responded immediately. Another contraction built and ebbed. “But other things…yes, sometimes.”
“Hot showers that last forever.”
“Real coffee.”
Emmy nodded and smiled over her shoulder. “Heating.”
“Air-conditioning,” Scarlett countered.
“Yes.”
“Driving.”
Emmy exhaled with feeling. “God, yes. There’s nothing worse than carriages unless it’s the horses pulling them.”
“How long have you been gone?”
“Three months. You?”
“Five years,” Scarlett sighed.
Emmy’s shock showed in her rounded eyes. “Wow. That long?”
Scarlett nodded and turned her head to smile at her daughter, once again engrossed in the colorful pages. “It seemed so quick looking back, but now, here I feel like I’m out of my own skin somehow. This isn’t my home anymore, yet I’m already slipping back into the creature comforts.”
“It would be easy. It was easy,” Emmy corrected. “But my life in Baltimore never suited again without Connor.”
Scarlett bobbed her head again. She knew all too well what home meant to a woman who’d found a love that transcended time. It was unlike anything she’d known before.
Through the open door, they observed the two men standing together in the hall. One in full kilt, the other in a tailored, if somewhat old-fashioned suit. The sight was so striking, Scarlett scarcely registered the mounting contraction.
Both men were well over six feet, broad of build. Fierce in a way that couldn’t be defined by twenty-first century standards. Men who had suffered, fought for life in a way no one had to any longer. Laird more so than Connor obviously. He was battle worn, tested by life, and while comfortable by his own time’s standards, far more primitive than anyone in this day and age could imagine. He’d suffered from hunger, disease, and war. At just thirty-two, there was already an attractive touch of gray in his beard. While he was so handsome he could still—and already had—turned the heads of women and men alike in any era, the experience of his life was etched upon him in scars both visible and unseen.
He was magnetic. Irresistible. To Scarlett, at least. A pang of tenderness tugged at her heart.
Rhys joined the men with his usual swagger and cocky grin. To her surprise, he sported blue scrubs instead of his kilt. All three men had been agog since entering the hospital, wandering the halls and touching everything in sight. They’d all been firmly admonished to keep their hands to themselves. Either Rhys hadn’t listened or he’d sweet-talked someone into touching for him. Arms held out from his sides, he turned to model the garb to the other men.
“I’d like to get a set of those and get out of this dress and corset,” Emmy lamented. “I wonder where he got them.”
As if in answer to her question, Rhys gestured down the hall. When he turned away again, Laird made to follow.
An ache of another sort pulled at Scarlett. Laird in scrubs?
“I do believe some deep-seated fantasy I never knew I had is about to come true,” Scarlett murmured, envisioning the end result. Yum.
Emmy giggled, a playful somewhat naughty sound Scarlett hadn’t yet heard from her. “Since it’s actually a fantasy I’ve been harboring for some time, I hope Connor changes, too.”
Then all thoughts of desire and muscles bulging against blue cotton fled. “Here comes another one.”
“Won’t be long now.”
“Laird better change fast or he might miss the birth,” Scarlett panted. “Damn, I won’t even be able to appreciate the sight of him if he changes, will I?”
“There’s plenty of time for that.”
Laird
The next morning
“She’s beautiful,” Emmy cooed over the newborn.
“She’s terrifyingly wee,” Laird contradicted, his burr grave with worry. He sat close to the portable incubator with Hermione on his knee, his arm through the hole, and his bronzed finger encircled by tiny pink fingers with a strength that surprised him. Yet she was so frail.
She had come into this world with only the faintest of mewls and been whisked away by the doctor named Patel before they’d even gotten a good look at her. They’d returned her hours later in this box with numerous tubes and wires connected to her wee body.
He’d only known real fear once in his life. Not in battle, when his life had been on the line, but at the thought of losing Scarlett years before. He felt it again now. A churning, knotted twist in his gut at the thought of losing this precious lass. Aye, they’d not the means to spare her in his time, but what benefit would there be in this journey if she could not be saved in this one?
“Hermione entered the world hale and hearty, wailing with volume enough to drown out a banshee. This one is like a kitten.”
Connor clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s a fine lass and soon she’ll have the lungs enough to bring down the roof, I’d wager.”
“Aye, I’ve two bonny lasses.” Laird spoke with more confidence than he felt, never tearing his eyes away from his newborn daughter. Willing her to breathe. To thrive. “Born of a bonny mother I love more than life. Even if she continues to bear me only daughters.”
Connor shared a grin with his wife. “Maybe I should have Emmy explain the X and Y swimmers.”
Scarlett rolled into the room with Rhys pushing her in an ingenious wheeled chair. Wrapped in a coarse white robe, with hideous stockings on her feet, her long auburn hair tangled around her shoulders and a bonny, weary smile on her lips, she’d never looked lovelier to Laird’s mind. Her brown eyes were lit with laughter that warmed his troubled heart.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ve already tried and he’s not buying it.”
“Aye, a stubborn arse my brother is,” Rhys chimed in. The two laughed together and an affectionate smile tugged at Laird’s lips.
Years before, their close friendship had dealt Laird fits of jealousy. Even when he knew he had her heart, he’d envied the intimate bond between them. Now he was glad for it. For both their sakes.
However, he wasn’t pleased Rhys had stolen Scarlett for a turn around the hospital in her condition. Setting Hermione on her feet, Laird jumped up and tugged at the ridiculous garb he wore. He found the scrubs as grating as the word used to describe them. They were binding and rather tight—something Scarlett hadn’t minded as much as he for some reason—but then the scrubs weren’t meant for a man his size.
“Where have ye been, lass? Ye should be abed. Resting.”
“It’s a different time, Laird. No rest for the weary here. They’ll expect me to be up and about today and out of here tomorrow.” Scarlett shifted her gaze to the incubator and Hermione joined her, pressing her face against the plastic shell to get a better look at her new sister. “Not that I’ll be going anywhere until the baby is able to go…well, go home seems a rather loose statement at the moment, doesn’t it?” She chewed her lip. “Which leads to the bigger question. Has anyone seen Donell around at all?”
“No, he seems to have disappeared entirely,” Emmy told her. “The old bugger.”
“I hate it when he does that.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
Laird parted his lips, an inquiry on the tip of his tongue, but closed them again. “Nay, I’m no’ going to ask.”
He’d already spent the better part of the previous day and night gaping like a simpleton left and right, a thousand questions on his lips. From the hard white and beige floor beneath his feet to the lights shining down from above and everything between, everything single thing he gazed upon roused one question after another.
He’d seen tubes stuck in his wife and his newborn daughter with no conceivable idea as to their purpose. Had his new bai
rn confined to a box for reasons beyond his ken. Words were spoken by doctors, nurses, and even his wife that held no meaning to him.
Naïvely, he’d thought Scarlett’s stories had readied him to face the future, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Navigating this time was like learning a new language without knowing the alphabet it was derived from.
His wife’s warning made more sense now that he was here. He was out of his element in this place. For the first time in his life, Laird found himself inferior to others. Not even his illegitimacy had brought him so low, and the feeling sat ill upon him. His survival instinct warred with the need to protect his family.
Nothing would prevent him from the latter. Regarding the former, however, he’d chosen to keep his hands—and curiosity—to himself. While he might be able to ignore what he saw, blocking out the sounds was much harder. This new world was incessantly loud. Constantly abuzz with the sounds of the machines, talking of persons in the hallways, and the roar of whatever lay outside their windows. What was beyond, he wasn’t certain he wanted to know. Their brief experience outside the hospital doors soured his interest.
He longed for home without even a full day having passed. For the comfort of his hall, the familiar clatter of his family and household to soothe his ears.
But Scarlett was correct. They could not leave this place without their wee bairn. Or without the presence of the enigmatic Donell. Wherever the old man had hied himself off to, he best return soon or suffer Laird’s wrath.
“How long will the doctors require the bairn to stay in this box?” he inquired of Emmy.
“Not too long,” she told him. “She was far enough along not to require any breathing tubes, so that’s a blessing. She has a little jaundice but that’s not unusual. So once that clears up and she’s able to maintain body heat and eat without assistance, they’ll let her go. Maybe a few weeks or so.”
Weeks more seemed far too long to Laird. What was he to do in this time and place for weeks more? He was a nobleman, an administrator of his estate, and a courtier with duties to the infant king. He wasn’t used to idle time or idle hands.
He had a castle to build.
By God, but the view of Dunskirk when the shuttle had hauled them away had been an inspiring one. Scarlett had tried to describe what the castle would one day become, to draw out their plans, but to see the changes, what it would become, with his own eyes had left him awestruck. What a legacy he would leave behind.
If they were to ever return home, that was.
Emmy
There was a spirit of lightness and gratitude in the small hospital room. Undeniable, but as the primary reason for their travels had been accomplished to their highest expectations, Emmy couldn’t help but think about the ramifications of their journey and what awaited them.
Even the thought of playing doctor with her sexy husband in his scrubs couldn’t banish the apocalyptic scenarios chasing one another through her mind. Gathering up her long hair, she twisted the length and wrapped it into a bun at the nape of her neck before letting it fall loose. Then repeated the process. A nervous habit she hadn’t succumbed to since her residency.
“Listen, I hate to be the voice of negativity…”
“Nay, ye dinnae.”
Emmy cast her husband a wry look but stopped short of a full eye roll. “In this case, I do.”
Connor’s gorgeous dimples winked at her, teasing a jolt of lust from deep within. Ugh, they were supposed to still be on their honeymoon! Instead of beds and lovemaking, all she could think about was everything that could go wrong.
“What is it?” Scarlett asked, barely away from the little miracle she’d born.
Who could blame her? The baby was a miracle and tugged at Emmy’s heartstrings and maternal instinct. Knowing children awaited her, but not having the forethought to ask when was maddening. But her foray into motherhood wasn’t the issue weighing most heavily at the moment.
“We’re here and of course Donell is nowhere to be found. So, assuming we’re stuck here for the time being…” God, she prayed it was only for the time being.
Scarlett looked over the incubator at her husband who cradled their sleeping toddler in his arms. Her expression was troubled.
Rhys leapt up on the bed, crossing his legs at the ankle and his arms behind his head. “Keep trust. Keep faith. That’s the Hepburn motto. We’ll make it home soon enough.”
Laird nodded but without his brother’s humor. “Aye, our family motto should be shared by us all forthwith. Faith we will make it home. All of us.”
“I’m sure we will,” Emmy agreed, though sure was a pretty strong word. Prayed was more accurate. “But what do we do in the meantime?” she pressed. “I mean, look at us. A set of scrubs is all well and good. We’re not getting stared at anymore, but this is literally all we have. No money, no place to stay.”
“Could we no’ continue staying here?” Rhys asked.
Emmy’s brows rose. “Would you want to? This room may be the best they’ve got but is too cramped for all of us. Even if we could stay. I think we can all attest to that after sleeping on cots last night.”
They’d overcrowded the room and one another, but where else were they to go? Reporters still crawled the hospital, looking for an in. A chance to get at Scarlett.
Shaking her head, Emmy continued, “They’re being lax in the rules here probably because y’all scare them to death, but we’ll have to go sooner or later.”
Rhys nodded his agreement. “Aye, I’ve explored these halls to my heart’s content already. My legs could use a satisfying stretch and my belly more hearty fare than the…what did ye call it? Cafeteria? What they serve here.”
Laird and Connor both agreed wholeheartedly. Big men with healthy appetites. They were probably starving for meat and ale. And fresh air, too, as Rhys said. Neither Laird nor Rhys seemed the type to spend time indoors. Connor certainly wasn’t. “So how are we going to manage?”
“I doubt I’ve coin enough in my purse to suffice. And we’ve already seen it wouldnae be accepted anyway. Mayhap we could sell it, as it might be considered antique at this point in time,” Connor suggested. Clearly he’d been thinking about their situation as well. “Our traveling clothes wisnae worth much, but the three of ye wore significant gems and jewelry. We could pawn some of them.”
Rhys scratched his short beard thoughtfully. “The gems on my doublet were but wee chips but on the whole may fetch a pound or two.”
Or a thousand in today’s exchange. If they could find a buyer. Emmy grimaced. So many ifs. “Maybe. Ugh, if I’d known all this would be happening, I would have brought my purse along, though I doubt my debit card is still active.”
Scarlett, finally registering the conversation, tore her gaze away from the baby. Her brown eyes rich with awareness. “But mine is, I bet.”
“What? You said you’ve been gone five years.”
“But Marius at the castle said I’d only been gone for a few days, right?” Scarlett pointed out. “There’s a chance, maybe a good one, all my stuff is still here. I didn’t take my purse back with me when Donell sent me the second time.”
“Aye, ye did,” Laird countered. “I remember it.”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, that was just a small handbag with my car key, room key, driver’s license and museum pass. I’m talking about my big cross-body one. You know? The brown leather one I had before?”
Rhys nodded. “Aye, I remember it. Laird maun be getting too doddering in his advanced age to recall.”
“You were saying, Scarlett?” Emmy cut in before the two brothers descended into another war of words. Rhys did love to get a rise out of Laird.
“My point is, my wallet, my phone…everything was in it. It should still be here. Somewhere.”
“In your car?” Connor suggested.
“But you didn’t see the car in the parking lot,” Emmy reminded her, and Scarlett shook her head again.
“No, I wouldn’t have had them b
oth with me. It must be at my B and B.”
“What’s a B and B?” Rhys asked.
“Tell me you were staying in Edinburgh,” Emmy begged, ignoring him.
Scarlett grimaced. “Wish I could, but it was down near Dunskirk. But if they haven’t cleaned out my room and it’s there, that would solve a few problems. Especially the money one.”
“I couldnae possibly…”
Emmy nudged Connor in the ribs to halt his chivalrous protest. “This is no time to play the man card, baby. Besides, it’s not like we have many options and I’d wager, no offence, she can afford it.”
Scarlett shrugged modestly. “If it’s still there. I’ll call and find out. Otherwise, it might take time to get my credit cards replaced.”
“Are ye wealthy, dearest Scar?” Rhys’s question was accompanied by a smirk. “Ye ne’er said so.”
Laird’s lips quirked as well. “Aye, ye repeatedly reminded us ye were a celebrity, but spoke nothing of wealth.”
“I made a decent living,” she replied. An understatement to Emmy’s way of thinking. She knew how popular Scarlett was when she’d departed in 2010. The intervening years would have only amplified her popularity and hence, her wealth.
“It’d be enough to get us through,” Emmy summed up and Scarlett nodded again, but then frowned.
“What’s wrong, lass?” Laird inquired, interpreting her expression.
“Nothing. Not really. I mean, they haven’t asked for my ID, passport, or health insurance yet. Probably because they know who I am.” Scarlett tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hopefully, if we get my purse, there won’t be a huge issue, but what happens if any of you get ID’ed? There could be a problem brewing there.”
Emmy winced. She hadn’t even gotten there yet. One more thing to worry about. “Yes, a real ugly one.”
“Let’s no’ create a problem where one disnae yet exist,” Laird told them. “We should deal wi’ the one at hand first. I will return to Dunskirk and retrieve my wife’s belongings.”
A Laird to Hold Page 6