A Laird for All Time (8 page)

“Fin
ally feeling some guilt over yer behavior?” Connor asked as he seated himself next to her.

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.

“Ok
ay, 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 ha’ made a habit of being an aggressor in conversation.  Perhaps wi’out even realizing that it was so.”

“It’s a classic defense mec
hanism,” 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 b
irthing 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.  And, when Ian had returned without her, he could not resist coming after 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, why 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 occasional biting remarks, she 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! 
She had been perched on the rock as he approached, with her knees to her chest and arms wrapped around them.  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, and it rippled almost hypnotically in the light wind.  He wanted to touch it again to see if it was as soft as he remembered.  When it 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, although she wondered desperately what he was thinking, she wasn’t so brave as to voice
that
question. She shook away her curiosity.  A distraction was definitely required. “Had you asked her already?”

“Mary Guthrie,” he told her
, entwining her fingers with his as he forced his thoughts in a new direction, clearing his throat.  “No, I had nae asked for her hand yet.  Her father owns Duart House nae far from here.”

“Really?  I thought the
MacLeans 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 it was comforting.  She squeezed his hand in return.

“We had,”
Connor confirmed.  “My family had been on this land for three hundred years before we lost Duart while Charles II was in power.  Then during the Jacobite rebellion, the castle was burned and left in ruin.  The land itself was 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 yer 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 looked 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 entirely 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 ha’ 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 nae 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 of our fortune to carry out the restoration thus far.  It willnae last 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 nae much I’d nae 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 ask them to 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 nae 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
let 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 for those she met.

“Wait a minute.  Isn’t Duart House called Talully or something like that now?”

“Torosay,” 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 ha’penny on!” He stood in outrage.

“Six and a half pounds,” she
corrected, thinking that messing with him like that might be far more amusing if she weren’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 and tugged on his hand, pulling him back toward the castle.  “It was just a joke.”

“Ye
r 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 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 dinae think to stop there.  Did ye truly attend the university there?”

“Yes, I did.”

“It was a lovely city.”

“Best crab bisque on the east coast,” she bragged
, perking up at the mention of her home.  “And there is this one restaurant at the Inner Harbor where you can get the best steamed mussels!  Good eats, baby!”

Emmy prattled on about restaurants and the food to be had in Maryland
as they walked back down the coastline hand in hand.  Connor listened with half an ear, wondering if she had in fact eaten all the different foods she spoke of.  Apparently she loved seafood, not deep-fried though – whatever that was – wine and even beer; a confession he had never heard a lady make.  She spoke of the tourist attractions of the area as well, of things called the National Aquarium, Baltimore World Trade Center and the Hard Rock Café.

Plainly
the place which brought her the greatest bliss was an oddity called Ben and Jerry’s where one could get a thing called ‘Half-Baked’.  He wondered where he might find some as he imagined watching her eat such a treat. It would be a most sensual experience based on the look of rapture she wore just speaking of it.

Emmy stopped suddenly at the gate to the castle.  The sun lighted the front and a glance over her shoulder confirmed it - the sun was setting!  This was it.  She had missed it the previous afternoon while she napped, but here it was.  She turned back to the castle and stared hard, willing the newly restored façade to crumble away to what she had seen over a hundred years in the future.

Nothing.

Damn!  A part of her soul cried out for mercy from this befuddling situation as the questions that had tormented her for the past 24 hours began calling for answers once more.

“Are ye
well, Heather?” Connor asked, concerned with her motionless concentration.  “Perhaps the walk has been too much for ye?”

Emmy shook her head as his words registered.  “Too much for me?” she snorted.  “That little walk?  Are you kidding me?
I’ve done the Susan G. Koman 3-day… twice!  Too much for me indeed!  You have an absurdly low opinion of women, did you know that?”

“
‘Tis nae completely unjustified,” he reasoned, gesturing toward the castle as if to indicate the women inside.

“Well, just try not to keep lumping me in with
the pack, alright?” she asked as they continued through the courtyard to the main door.  “I am not your garden-variety damsel in distress, you know.”

“The evidence is truly in ye
r favor, my dear,” he allowed, standing aside with a sweep of his arm to allow her to precede him into the main hall.