Beyond that, she was sensual, alluring and seductive without even trying. He closed his eyes and pictured the two of them together. The chemistry between them was profound. He wanted her with near desperation, yet wasn’t sure it would be enough.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Her low voice cut through his thoughts and he opened his to find her studying him much as he had been scrutinizing her moments before.
He shook his head in denial. “Nothing of importance.”
Emmy knew that was a lie. The expression on his face had been almost…well, longing, if she had to put a name to it. She wished she knew what had prompted it. Was he thinking of her? Was it possible that he might think as she did? In the space of a few days, Emmy had experienced the most intense desire that she had ever felt in her life. However, there was so much more between herself and Connor than just pure lust. At least on her part. She shuddered to think that everything else was just one-sided because Connor was rapidly becoming extremely important to her. She respected him, she knew. It was difficult not to. His devotion to his role as laird, as head of his clan was remarkable. He took the responsibility so seriously despite the lack of deeper personal relationships among those who depended on him. He was so caring, yet trying to mask it. His sense of humor was similar to hers. He was well-read and liked music. And, as she expected before, she was certain that he wanted badly to have someone to love.
And she wanted that love directed at her. The revelation shouldn’t have been surprising but it was nonetheless. To be sheltered by Connor’s love would be the most incredible thing. She knew it without a doubt. He was a bit gruff now, but thawing quickly and Emmy could easily imagine the role he would assume in a relationship.
He would be protector, provider and lover.
It went against Emmy’s stalwart stand in the power of womanhood, of independence and self-worth to think that she might enjoy being taken care of. Being a wife in the sense it meant in this time did have a certain appeal to it. She inwardly gasped at her own confession. Did she really think she could give over her personal power into the hands of a man? Be a housewife? She met his dark eyes and they stared at each other for a long moment, each considering.
She could see it, Emmy acknowledged. She might even do it – for him. He wouldn’t abuse his rights, she believed him capable of a giving, sharing relationship. She trusted him.
‘Holy shit! I think I am falling in love with him,’ she thought.
“And ye? A penny for yers?” he whispered.
‘Oh, hell no!’ she thought shaking her head in denunciation.
They were well into the sound by this point heading on a southeasterly course closer to the coast than the ferry had traveled. As they moved along to the south, she caught glimpse of palatial manor tucked away among the hills and trees. She asked Connor what it was.
“Duart House. Home of the Guthrie’s.”
“Oh,” she said in surprise and examined the beautiful building with a critical eye. It was so lovely, much bigger than she would have thought and as elegant as a French chateaux. “Home of the ex-girlfriend.”
“Just so,” he confirmed softly.
“Why didn’t you just tell everyone the marriage had been annulled?” she asked curiosity getting the best of her. “Why haven’t you still told anyone? You could still marry the woman, you know.”
Connor rubbed his finger along his lower lip in a gesture she was beginning to realize was a habit of his when he was thinking and regarded the house solemnly. “I don’t know why I haven’t told anyone. I guess it didn’t matter much. Everyone thought, assumed ye were dead anyway, but some part of me knew I had to make it legal. For my own piece of mind. As for the Guthrie lass, who knows? I might have that opportunity still.”
That stung, but Emmy hid the hurt. “Will you tell everyone now?”
He turned his serious gaze to hers. “Do ye want me to?”
Emmy shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone thinks we’re living as husband and wife and probably assume we’re sleeping together. It would probably scandalize them if they knew we were living in sin. How long do you mean to go on then?” she wondered.
“Until I decide what to do with ye, I suppose.”
A seductive smile tilted a corner of Emmy’s lips as she looked up at him through lowered lashes. “What do you want to do with me?”
His silence was broken by a harsh laugh and he grabbed up her hand to press a kiss to her fingers. “I think ye know verra well what I want to do with ye, my lady!”
Emmy laughed as well, caressing his chin with her thumb before patting his cheek. “Well, besides that!” she drawled.
“Truthfully…other than that…I really have no idea,” he answered truthfully. “A part of me still wonders that ye have some ulterior motive in being here.”
“And maybe the other half is inclined to believe me?” she tossed out casually.
He scowled and pulled back from her. “No, not yet.”
Emmy sighed and sat back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest. “Stubborn!” she huffed.
“Scots,” he answered and she had to fight the twitch that threatened to bring a smile to her face.
She pouted in silence ignoring the self-admitted, stubborn Scot and enjoyed the scenery as the waters widened to Loch Linnhe and Duart emerging in the distance. “How wonderful the castle looks from here! Oh, it’s beautiful!” she said more to herself than to Connor. The castle rose up from the rocky cliff on its coastal side showing off its great defenses. Clearly that was why it had been built just so. As they sailed past and the perspective rotated, Emmy got the view from the southeast. The morning sun hitting the side of the castle and the mountainous vista behind it capped in the low clouds. The landscape around it seemed so barren.
She watched it until it was out of sight. Turning again, she noticed a small piece of rock barely large enough to call an island jutting from the water. If not for the small lighthouse that marked it, they might have passed it unnoticed. “What is that?” she asked. “I didn’t notice it on the way here.”
“Ahh, interesting story there,” Connor glad to start a conversation from the uncomfortable silence that had enveloped them. “Tis the Lady’s Rock.”
“Lady’s Rock,” Emmy repeated. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Hundreds of years ago my ancestor, Lachlan Cattenach who was the laird at the time stranded his wife Catherine on that wee island because she hadn’t yet bore him an heir.”
“Nice. Just like a man to blame the woman,” she muttered with clear sarcasm. “Oh, I remember this from the guidebook for the ferry! The guy ‘accidentally’ left her on the island,” Emmy used air quotes around the word. “He expected her to get washed away by the tide because the rock would be underwater at high tide.”
Connor nodded with amusement. “And when she had disappeared the next morning, my ancestor wrote distraughtly to her brother, the earl of Argyll, of her death.”
Emmy picked up the story sitting forward with a smile. “And when the laird was invited to Inverary meet the earl, there was Catherine sitting right next to her brother at the table, saved by a passing fisherman! I forget, what happened to the laird? Did the earl kick his butt?”
Laughing aloud, Connor shook his head. “Nay, they let him go unharmed though a couple years later he was killed by another of Catherine’s brothers, some say in revenge.”
“Serves him right for trying to kill his wife for something she had no control over. I mean, they had other kids, right? A girl?” she asked.
“I believe so. Why do ye say she had no control? If she gave him only lasses…” he dangled the question curiously.
“Gender determination is all on the father, Connor, surely you know that?” Her mind raced. When did they figure that out? Thinking back to her college courses, Emmy recalled that a woman – she felt a little smile lift her lips at the thought - named Nettie Stevens had discovered the chromosomes pairings and their role in deciding the sex of a child. Bu
t that had been in 1905. Ten years from this time.
“What do ye mean, all on the father?” There was a bit of indignation there that amused Emmy a bit. Male pride never died.
“I am saying the mother has nothing to do with the sex of a baby. The father is solely responsible for that.” He snorted in disbelief and Emmy leaned toward him. “No, it’s true! Okay, think of it this way,” she held up a closed fist. “Here’s the egg, in the woman,” she clarified. “Let’s call that egg, ohh I don’t know, ‘X’. No matter what the egg will always be an ‘X’, with me so far?”
He nodded skeptically and waved her on.
With her other hand, Emmy wiggled her fingers with a flutter. “Over here are your little swimmers, the sperm.” Connor flushed a bit but nodded again while Emmy counted them off with her thumb. “Here’s sperm ‘X’, this one’s called ‘Y’, then another ‘Y’ and another ‘X’, okay?” She poked her index finger ‘X’ to her closed fist. “Mr. ‘X’ sperm hits the egg and we have baby ‘XX’. Two X’s together and you have a girl.” She switched fingers and pressed her middle finger to her fist. “Mr. ‘Y’ sperm gets to the egg first and you get baby “XY’, a boy. Got it?”
“I believe so.”
Emmy waved her fingers back toward him. “X or Y it is all in the sperm. The woman has absolutely nothing to do with the sex of the baby.”
“Nothing?” he echoed in amazement.
“Nada,” she confirmed.
“How can ye know this?” He didn’t doubt she was right. She spoke with such authority and assurance. He was astounded.
“Biology 101, man,” she replied with a shrug. “It’s pretty much the first thing you learn. This tendency y’all have of blaming a woman is barbaric.” She leaned back and picked up her coffee taking another sip.
Chapter 24
“Did you go to college, Connor? I mean university?”
He nodded and sat back as well. “Indeed I did. Cambridge.”
“What did you study?”
“Business and land management, of course, as well as science, history and art,” was his answer.
“So you consider yourself an educated man? Contemporary thinker?”
“I suppose I do,” he replied warily not knowing where she was going.
“What are your thoughts on women’s rights?” At his frown, she scoured her mind. “Suffrage. I’m sure they are up to that already…umm, here, in Scotland,” she added that last on as an afterthought.
“Oh, aye, the suffrage movement. Ye do hear a bit of it in Glasgow and London,” he admitted. “So far, it hasn’t gained much ground.”
“Well, what do you think about it? About women having the right to vote? For it or against it?” She peered at him over the rim of her cup with a narrowed gaze that had him rethinking his impulse response.
He wasn’t about to tell her that he had been against the idea. Not when she was looking at him like that, with daggers in her eyes. “There some women who…most women…” he hedged and scratched his chin and admitted, “I’m not sure I have a good answer for ye on that subject, lass. Most of the women I know…well, I wouldn’t trust them with a vote. They just aren’t aware of the issues and what is best for the country.”
“Because they are women or because they aren’t educated on the facts?”
Connor considered that clarification against the women he knew and conceded. “Mostly because they do not care to make themselves aware, I suppose.”
“So education is key, then? What if I wanted to vote? Would that be alright?” Her gaze was so straightforward and assessing, so intelligent that in that moment Connor felt he would trust her judgment, or at least consider it thoughtfully on almost any subject.
“Aye, I would trust yer vote to be well thought out. Ye’re intelligent and don’t seem the sort to make a decision based on emotion alone,” he admitted and was pleased when she blessed him with a wide smile.
“Why thank you, Connor, that means a lot to me.”
“I’ve never known a woman who has had as much education as ye have,” he added. “It’s unusual and rare. Most women…”
“Don’t blow the moment, Connor,” she said softly patting his hand before settling back in her chair.
They sat in silence for a long while after that. Unlike their previous silence, this was companionable not uncomfortable as long silences could be. They enjoyed the scenery as they came to the mouth of Loch Spelve, there they turned to the left towards the mainland of Scotland. Occasionally Connor would point out a landmark or point of interest or Emmy would offer comment or praise on the landscape or view. He took her hand in his at one point and simply held it for a long time and Emmy stared down at their joined hands wondering if life could ever truly be so contented. Simple….hmmm.
Soon they reached the southern point of Kerrera, a narrow island between Mull and the mainland and moved north up its sound to Oban. They docked in Oban for lunch. The restaurant Connor chose was ironically right across from where her hotel should have been, or would be someday. Emmy stared out the window the building that occupied that spot now, a livery stable that was a far cry from the four story hotel that would eventually be there.
Pondering her situation thoughtfully while she chewed, Emmy was again questioning what she wanted from her life. Sometimes, it seemed she had been here in this time for weeks instead of days. Other than the clothing and wondering what was happening on her favorite TV shows, she did not truly miss anything from her own. Oh, that time would come, she was sure it would happen about when confidence in her DVR would give way to bigger issues. But for the moment she was strangely comfortable, content and not at all in a rush to return to her own time and place.
So what had Donell meant?
“Ye’ve been terribly quiet and thoughtful today,” Connor commented at length after watching her stare blankly out the window for some time. “What is working on yer mind?”
Thinking it might be a good time to bring it up; Emmy answered her question with one of her own. “Do you ever think about the future, Connor?”
“Of course, everyone does.”
“No, I don’t mean like next month or next year,” she corrected. “I am talking about the far future, say a century from now. Don’t you ever wonder what it will be like?”
Pointing his fork at her, he chuckled. “Ye’ve been reading Jules Verne, haven’t you?”
“Jules Verne? Oh, like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea…or better From the Earth to the Moon?” she added with a snap of her fingers. “Okay, let’s start there. Do you think that man will ever be able to fly to the moon?”
Sensing she was serious in her question, he took a moment to consider the possibility. “I don’t know. Invention has changed much in just the last ten or fifteen years. There are inventions being developed everyday that change the way we live. I hear that much of London and New York and other large cities are lit by electric lights now. Telephones are being put in many homes in Glasgow. We never would have dreamed of such a thing ten years ago. The automobile! Have ye ever seen one? I saw a race in London last year. It was incredible.”
“I might have seen one once or twice,” she twisted her lips to stop a smile. “You’re open-minded enough then to see the possibilities of the future?”
Connor looked offended. “I am an educated man.”
Emmy held up a hand. “I know you are, don’t get your back up. But let’s go a little further. What if the technology of the telephone, for example, advanced so much in a century that everyone had one of their own? Not just a telephone but one that was small enough to be held in your palm and be used without wires or cords of any kind? Could you see that happening?”
“It is nearly unimaginable, but perhaps if science progressed so much,” he allowed enjoying the lass challenged him with conversation beyond the weather or business of the earldom. Such an unusual woman she was!
“Let’s go even further then.” She thought for a moment. “How about H.G. Wells? Have you read
The Time Machine?”
“Just a few months ago, as a matter of fact. It was just published this year.” He was surprised that she had read it. It was not a genre of books any of the ladies of his acquaintance would ever dream of reading. Most women read novels or fashion magazines. There wasn’t one in his household that had ever ventured into the library in search of intellectually stimulating materials. But this woman was clearly different in almost every way. That much was already clear.
“What did you think of it?”
“I thought it was well written…”
“No, no,” she corrected in exasperation. “Not the writing or even the story. What did you think of the premise of the book? About time travel itself?”
“It’s fiction, my dear,” he reminded wondering not only at her question but the intensity with which she asked it.
“This from a man who just moments ago conceded that travel to the moon might be possible someday?” She tsked lightly. “That was fiction, too, Mr. Educated Man. Look at this with those same eyes.”
“But there is no scientific basis for time travel,” he argued, “whereas travel to space could be seen as the progression of current science.”
“There is no scientific basis yet,” she corrected firmly. “What if I were to tell you, right now, that I am from the future, have seen the future and it will be possible someday far beyond your lifetime, what would you do?”
“Lock you up in Bedlam?” he responded with a laugh but she didn’t join him.
“Surprisingly narrow-minded of you, Connor.”
He reached across the table and took her hand cajoling, “Come, my dear, be serious. There are just some things that are not realistic even in the far future.”
Emmy opened her mouth to argue but changed her mind deciding now was not the time to argue the point. The laird hadn’t even been able to accept that she wasn’t Heather MacLean yet. How could she expect him to swallow the idea of time travel so quickly when she wasn’t entirely sure she believed in it herself despite her current situation? She shrugged and applied herself to finishing her lunch, a nicely done roast beef with potatoes and veggies. Comfort food for a cool fall day, she felt much better when she was finished.
A Laird for All Time Page 15