A Laird for All Time (24 page)

“Attacking your own allies
?”  Connor was horrified.

Emmy nodded.  “It will be a big one, but there are many other wars big and small.  Too many others.  I told you the future is a violent place, Connor.”  Emmy scrunched her nose.  “Even when I left we were fighting.”

“It seems the future is nae all sunshine and roses,” he said to lighten her mood.  “Tell me something that will happen besides death and war.  Something good.”

Emmy thought for a long time as they rode through the sunny afternoon.  Surprisingly, history classes seemed to only teach the bad stuff, she thought.  She could remember her high school history tests well enough to remember they were usually filled with the dates of wars and assassinations, of disasters, both natural and man-made, of economic
downturns.  Why didn’t they ever teach anything good?  Was history really just about the bad?  Huh, she thought, what a realization to have a hundred and fifteen years in the past.  It said a lot for their society. 

“Something good, something good,” she murmured, thinking.  “Wow, I’m stumped,” she admitted and gave him a rueful smile.  “Sorry, I’m not much help at all.  I think most of the good stuff I can think of is more along the lines of all the cool things that will be invented in the next century.”

“Ye dinnae allow me to be optimistic about my future, Em,” Connor said, “if you cannae think of one good thing that we ha’ to look forward to.”

“Oh, good things happen all the time!” she insisted.  “They just always get outweighed by misfortune.  The history of the entire world has been recorded that way.  You know it’s true.”

“It is,” he confessed realizing that most events he could recall in recent history as well as the history taught at Cambridge were also those with a negative connotation.

“Inventions though,” Emmy realized aloud, recalling med school classes. “There will be a lot of medical advances coming up and some very soon.  There will be vaccines against polio, diphtheria, measles, mumps and chicken pox.  There will be major drops in infant mortality.  I mean smallpox will actually be eradicated almost world-wide!”  She gave him a wide smile, pleased that she could recall something of a positive nature.

“Truly?”  Connor blinked in amazement, feeling a fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

“What is it?” she asked in response to his odd reaction.

“My mother and baby sister died from the pox when I was a young lad,” he confessed but forced a smile when her expression fell and filled with sympathy.  “No, no, I’m quite all right, my love.  It lifts my heart that someday a child willnae ha’ to fear watching his mother or sister die before their eyes.”

“Oh, Connor!  I am so sorry!”  She reached out for his hand.

“I know ye understand,” he returned, recalling her story of her mother’s death.  “Ha’ they nae found a cure for the cancers yet?”

“Oh, they try.”  Emmy shrugged philosophically.  “That one is proving a little more elusive.  Someday maybe.  Who knows?”

“Indeed, who knows what the future will bring,” he grinned, “yer future, of course.  We now already know what my future will bring.”

“Well, not your personal history.  The guidebook was a little vague on which generations their information applied to.  It didn’t mention you specifically beyond the reference to the next laird.”  They had pored over her guidebook together, looking for anything to indicate how his family’s personal history went forward, but only generalities had been mentioned.

“Well, even yer London guidebook dinnae delve deeply into the history of the monarchy,” he consoled since she felt so badly about not knowing more about his future.  “After all, it said nothing about the Queen’s death or what became of her children.”

“Edward VIII!” she announced brightly, nearly startling Connor from his saddle.  She stared at him, snapping her fingers over and over trying to latch on to the memory forming in her mind.

“Who?” he asked.

“Edward VIII,” she snapped her fingers again, trying to pin it down.  “I saw it on Biography.  He was King of England…Britain…
oh, whatever
, he was the king after Victoria or the one after that.  Edward VIII abdicated the throne so he could marry Wallis Simpson.  She was an American divorcée.”

Connor was taken aback and it showed
on his face.  “My God, ye cannae be serious!  That is the most appalling thing I ha’ ever heard of.  Forsaking one’s birthright and heritage for a woman!”

“Are you kidding me?” Emmy asked in amazement, unable to grasp the reason for his displeasure.  “It was a big deal!”

“Of course, it was a ‘big deal’,” he agreed with a curled lip.  “No one has ever done such a thing!”

“But he loved her, Connor.”  She frowned, not understanding his contempt.  “He gave up being a king so he could marry the woman he loved.  Why is that wrong?”

“Obviously she wisnae a suitable wife for a king or they would ha’ been allowed to wed wi’out such a drastic event,” he deduced.  “The responsibility of a king goes beyond personal wishes.  This Edward had a duty to his nation and he abandoned it for a pretty face!”

“I don’t think she was
really that pretty.”  Emmy glowered at him but shook her head, puzzled.  “And there was something about the Nazis in there too.  But, I don’t get it, Connor.”

“Kings find love in
mistresses, Emmy, if they cannae find it in marriage.”

Emmy blinked.  “Wow, so adultery beats out abdication then?  Because she wasn’t good enough for him?”  Emmy stuck a finger out at him, nearly stuttering in her agitation.  “I’ll have you know the son of the current Prince of Wales is dating a commoner he met at University and his brother is dating an international nobody and
…and…the Prince of Wales married his former mistress because he loved her!  And almost the entire world, outside the UK is totally good with that!” she yelled at him.

“What’re ye so angry about?” Connor asked, astounded by her outburst.

“Because, sometimes loving a
nobody
is okay, Connor,” she yelled, old Daisy shifting in circles as if feeling her rider’s tension.  “Next thing you’re going to spout is that I’m not good enough for an Earl.  I’m an American nobody, you know?  My father was a mechanic.  He worked on cars.  My grandpa was nothing more than a soldier most of his life; he spent forty years in the army.  My mom was a teacher.  That’s it!  We couldn’t even claim we had money.  I am no more special than the average American.  Is that good enough for you or will you find a nice wife one day, your little Miss Guthrie maybe, and keep me as a mistress because that’s what you guys do?”

Connor burst out laughing and Emmy nearly screeched in rage to have her tirade thrown back at her with such amusement.  Daisy danced in circles while Emmy sawed at the reins trying to get the old horse to turn back to the castle.  Emmy had had just about all the fun she could take for one day.  Irritating man!  Laughing at her like that!

“Emmy!  Em!”  Connor caught Daisy’s bridle and pulled the horse closer to him.  “Stop! Stop!”  He laughed as she fought against him trying to pull away.  “Stop before ye fall!”  Connor caught her about the waist and lifted her from Daisy’s back before settling her across his lap.  His eyes still alight with laughter, he looked down into her scowling face and lowered his head catching her mouth in a hot kiss.  Her lips stiffened and she tried to turn her head away from him.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she huffed.  “I’m mad at you.”

“Oh, my love!” he chuckled again, softly brushing his fingers against her cheek and resting his forehead against hers.  “Ye make me so happy.”

“You piss me off and it makes you happy?” she asked in amazement.  “Awwgh,” she groaned, “you are the most infuriating man I have ever known.”

“And ye’re the most entrancing woman I ha’ ever known,” he declared in a husky, sexy brogue, turning his head to nuzzle her ear.  “Yer jealousy soothes my fears tremendously.  While I worry that I ha’ nothing to offer ye, ye in turn fear that ye ha’ nae enough to offer me.”

“I wasn’t afraid, I was mad,” she corrected but did not push him away.

“Yer anger was born of insecurity from my thoughtless words,” he said.  “My love,” he murmured into her neck, “my darling lassie, no other woman could ever compare to ye.  And I would fear for my own safety if I ever try to consign ye to the role of mistress.”

Emmy tilted her head away to allow him greater access to her neck where he continued to suck and nibble his way down.  She sighed and shifted to clasp him tightly to her.  “You’re never going to let me stay mad at you again, are you?”

“I am discovering that yer anger rouses an undeniable passion in me,” Connor said in her ear.  “When yer cheeks flush and your eyes heat, I want nothing more than to direct that fire in a more productive direction.”

“Well, the right direction would be back toward the castle then because it is too cold to do that out here.” 

They turned back and Emmy snuggled against his side allowing her hands to drift downward playfully, earning a deep groan as Connor kicked Bruce to greater speeds.  “So, I am good enough for an Earl then?”

“Aye, my love, ye are, but that King Edward
…he was entirely wrong.”

“No, no!  You can’t do that!”  Emmy laughed and put a hand down on the table to stop Connor’s next move.  “This is Texas Hold ‘Em, not Five Card Draw!  You have to wait for the next two cards to be laid down before you turn your hole cards!”

“Are you certain?” Ian cut in.  “I dinnae believe that this is a real form of poker at all, lass.  Did you just make up the rules?”

“I will say that I never experienced such a turn of the rules at any of the card salons I have attended in Edinburgh,” Dory added.  “It is most unusual.  But interesting.”

Emmy laughed as her three companions studied their cards once again.  While poker or forms of it had been played for hundreds of years in Germany and France, once the game migrated to the U. S., it had taken on a life of its own.  The MacLean men were familiar with five card draw but had never seen Texas Hold ‘Em which made sense since Emmy was fairly certain it was a recent thing even in her time.  While Emmy had explained the World Poker Tour to Connor, Ian and Dory simply assumed it was just an American version of the game.

It had been four days since Emmy had been compelled to put Dory on bed rest, or at least restricting her movements to and from a chair in her room as much as possible.  After days of boredom with only an occasional visitor to break the monotony of her confinement, Dory was already chomping at the bit.  Emmy had insisted that Ian and Connor join them in a card game to pass the afternoon away.  Teaching the new game had been interesting but all were familiar with games of chance so it hadn’t taken too long to get the rules established.

“The placing of bets between each round becomes a bit tedious over time,” Connor said, glowering at his cards.  “I fail to see the necessity.”

“It just gives more of a chance to bet on the possibilities of your hand,” Emmy insisted.  She rolled her eyes at Dory who stifled a laugh in return.  “You just don’t like being
out bluffed by a woman, I think.  I mean, who would have ever thought that Dory would have such a good poker face?”

“Well, it certainly is not yer forte,” Connor said, catching Emmy’s hand and raising it to his lips.  “
One can always tell when ye ha’ a good hand.”

“It’s why I never go to Vegas,” she told him, squeezing his hand.

“What is Vegas?” Ian asked absently as he studied the river card Emmy dealt.

“Oh, it’s a big gambling Mecca in the western part of America,” Emmy answered just as vaguely.  “They’re really big on that type of thing out there.  They do have the Cirque du Soleil running constantly there, though.  I’d like to see that,” Emmy murmured.

“Circus of the Sun?” Connor asked.  “Ye ha’ nae talked about that before.”

“I haven’t talked about several things yet.”

“Father took us to see the circus in Edinburgh each year when we were young,” Ian told her.  “Do ye remember, Connor?”

“Somehow I doubt this circus Em is referring to is anything like that,” Connor slanted Emmy a look.  “Am I right?”

“You are,” she nodded as play continued.  “The Cirque is a show of amazing acrobatic talent unlike anything you can imagine.  I’ve heard so much about it but I have never seen it.”

“Sounds interesting,” Dory offered.  “Perhaps if they tour our side of the pond, we could all see it together.”

I might just be here long enough to see that happen, Emmy thought.

They had still been unable to find any sign of that wacky old wizard who had delivered her to Duart.  Emmy was fairly certain that Donell was avoiding her deliberately.  Despite his continued absence, the past couple days had brought a new contentment to Duart, at least in Emmy’s mind.  She and Connor spent their days learning more about each other and about the work they did, and their evenings making tender love or simply talking in the dark.  Ian and Dory seemed too to have found a new satisfaction.  Impending parenthood had settled them in spite of Dory’s discomfort.  Connor told him he had never seen the pair so publicly affectionate with each other in their entire marriage.

“Ye’re certainly well traveled, Em,” Ian commented.

“Just the U. S., I haven’t been around the world or anything.”

“Oh drat.  I fold,” Dory murmured and tried to get up on her own, only to receive prompt assistance from Ian and Connor.  “Please excuse me for a moment, I have to powder my nose,” she murmured as she waddled to the adjoining room.

“That’s six times in the past hour she’s had to ‘powder her nose’,” Connor muttered in a voice low enough not to be overheard by his sister-in-law.  He took up his cards again and made his bet on the final round of the hand.

“Perfectly normal,” Emmy added calmly, calling his bet while Ian joined in on the pot.  “Let’s see them.”

The men laid down their cards and Ian raked in the winnings with a cheerful smile.  “Seems like all I ever do is haul her to her feet and watch her wal
k in that direction.  She hasnae eaten much yet today, though Em.  Perhaps ye should talk to her, too.  The babies dinnae seem to be moving as much today and it has her worried.”

“She didn’t tell me that.”  Emmy frowned at Dory as she lumbered back into the room while Ian shuffled the deck and started to deal the cards.  Emmy examined Dory daily now.   The beginnings of effacement were evident, although there were no signs of dilation.  It could happen any time now.  She hadn’t wanted to tell Dory or Ian that lest she frighten them.  If the babies had stopped moving around, they might be settling in for labor.

“Ye in, love?” Ian called.

“Yes,” Dory sighed and lowered herself back into her chair.  She breathed out in relief as she got there and ran both hands down her engorged stomach.  “I declare I have expanded inches in just the past week.”

She was definitely about done cooking, Emmy thought, as she shared a quick glance with Connor before peeking down at her hole cards.  Pair of twos.  She frowned.  Connor was the only one she had shared her worries with regarding the delivery of Dory’s twins.  She’d given him an outline of the normal delivery procedures from her time and detailed all the equipment she was missing like an ultrasound and fetal monitor that could show her how the babies were developing.  She was nervous about the delivery, though she managed to preserve her calm outwardly appearance.  “I’m in.”  Emmy tossed in a couple coins.

The flop was laid down giving her three of a kind.  She studied the faces of the others briefly.  “Check.”  The others fell in with that.

“Ha’ ye thought about names at all?” Connor asked pleasantly as the game moved on.              

Ian tossed down his cards in defeat and looked at his brother.  “I was thinking of Jamie for a boy or Roslyn for a lassie.”  Connor held his gaze and finally offered a slight smile.  The names of their parents.

“Those are both good names,” Connor approved.  “But Emmy seems to think the bairns will be the same gender.  Do ye not want to name one after yer parents, Dory?”

She sniffed with disdain.  “If I do it would be after my mother only.”

“Didn’t you get along with your dad, Dory?” Emmy asked absently as she calculated her raise.

“My father and I did not part on the best of terms,” Dory confessed.  “He served me a great wrong not long before he died and I never did forgive him.  Of course, he never begged me for it either.”

“Ye ne’er told me that,” Ian asked with surprise and concern in his voice following his wife’s terse comments.

“I am sure I still have some mysteries about me,” she replied pertly.

“Aye, ye do.”  He waggled his eyebrows, drawing a blush from her.

“Ian MacLean!” she chided, slapping him playfully.  “Oh, drat!”

“Again?” Connor asked in astonishment, tossing down his cards.  “But ye just sat down!”

“Connor,” Emmy shook her head.  “Really?”

“Oh, no!” Dory murmured.  “Oh, dear.”

“What is it, love?” Ian asked, still looking at his cards.

“Oh, no!” she wailed.

Emmy leaned to the side and calmly took in the pool of liquid under Dory’s chair.  “Humph,” she grunted.  “That happened a little faster than I thought it might.”

“Ye were waiting for this?” Ian cried out.

“Waiting
…expecting.”  Emmy waved a hand as she pushed back from the table.  “Let’s just say I’m not surprised.”

“Well, I am!” Ian bellowed out, kneeling by Dory’s side.  She clutched her stomach and groaned in pain and he nearly started to hyperventilate.

“Okay then.” Emmy nodded calmly as both Connor and Ian stared at Dory in horror.  “I guess this is going to move along pretty rapidly so if all you two are going to do is panic, then you can just leave.”

“Nay
,” Ian protested.  “I want to stay.”

“Then get a grip, okay?”  Emmy went to the corner and yanked on the bell pull.  “No, just stay there for a minute while we get everything set up,” she said, as Ian moved to lift Dory to her feet.  “Believe me, as much as it appears to the contrary, the babies aren’t just going to drop out in the next thirty seconds.”  Susan arrived moments later.  Emmy rattled out a series of
instructions and sent her on her way.  Making her way to Dory’s side, she lifted her wrist and took her pulse.  “Try to relax, Dory, breathe deeply like we practiced this week.”

Emmy had given Dory a crash course in Lamaze breathing a few days before, thinking that it might be helpful since there were no drugs to be had.  “In, out,” she chanted as she drafted Connor to help her move the furnishings away from the window as two footmen arrived carrying the table Emmy had ordered to be constructed a week or so before.  It was a homemade version of a birthing table, complete with stirrups.  She had given it a try with Eleanor’s maid and it had done its job well.  Someone had added some upholstery to it since then.  It would be more comfortable if not more functional.

Susan and Margo arrived, carrying towels, scissors and buckets to fill with water and heat by the fire.  Margo also brought the medical bag Emmy had been given.  “All right, boys, out you go while Dory gets changed.”

“But, but,” Ian stuttered.

“You can come back in when she’s settled,” Emmy assured him and pushed all the men from the room, giving Connor a strained smile as he left.  “Show time.”

He smoothed back her hair and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry,” he whispered with assurance.  “Ye’ll do fine, I know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” she whispered back though she was trembling with apprehension inside.  Putting on her most professional face, she turned to her patient with a confident smile.  “You ready for this?”