A Laird for All Time by Angeline Fortin (best motivational books for students .TXT) 📕

“To bed, I think.”

“It’s early yet,” he argued trying to pull her back down beside him.

Emmy sighed and stared down at his handsome face.  “Well, you see, I didn’t sleep too well last night, or the night before for that matter.  It’s been a long day and I’m just tired.  Will you forgive me for giving in so early?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well either,” he admitted huskily.  “I think we both know the reason.”

“I’m sure we do,” she drawled with a little sarcasm and shook her head.  “Before I start getting nasty, just let me go, ok?”

Giving in graciously, Connor kissed her hand and rose.  “At least allow me to escort ye to our room?”

“It might be better if you didn’t do that,” she said tiredly knowing what might happen so easily if he did.   “I really do want to sleep.”

“Very well,” he conceded.  “It is just as well.  We have an early morning ahead.  Yer maid should wake you at about dawn for us to start our sail.”  He kissed her hand again lingering until she had to jerk it away from the heat and tingling his lips introduced.  “Good night, Hea…good night, my lady,” he corrected before she could do it herself.

“Good night, Connor,” she whispered, offered her good nights to the room and left thinking there was no way she was going to sleep well tonight either.  His kiss had seen to that and it was only on her hand!  She scratched her palm to rid it of the lingering tingle and wondered how long she could hold out against him.  Long enough for him to admit he was wrong?  Suddenly she doubted it.

Chapter 21

Surprisingly, Emmy did sleep well and was awake and looking forward to the day with Connor when Margo arrived to wake her the next morning with a light breakfast and to help her dress.  Wearing her own undergarments and again refusing the corset, Emmy accepted Margo’s advice for dressing warmly against the cold winds likely to abound on the Sound of Mull.  She allowed the long, woolen pantelettes but wore them over her underwear more like long johns and wore two wool petticoats under her skirts.  She also had a warm coat, gloves and scarf to help keep her warm, but rejected the huge, ridiculous hat as pointless against the cold.

Emmy was thankful for it all when she met Connor at the carriage in front of the keep.  The clouds were heavy and gray though the winds were calm, it was still quite chilly.  “Good morning, Connor,” she offered with a cheery smile.

“Good morning, my lady,” he returned offering a hand up to help her into the closed carriage.  “Did ye sleep well then?”

“Thankfully, yes.  And you?”

“Well enough,” he answered with a grin.  “So where shall we sail today?  Any thoughts?”

“Why don’t you just show me what you think I’d like best,” she told him.

“I might miss something of import,” he argued but she shook her head.

“It’s universally accepted the locals always know the best stuff.  I trust you.”

“Let’s be off then,” he rapped on the roof of the carriage and it set off with a jerk inciting a yelp from Emmy before she clutched Connor’s arm.

“Not exactly a smooth ride is it?” she complained not a hundred yards down the drive.

Connor looked affronted.  “I have one of the best carriages on the island,” he argued.  “Ye’ll not find a smoother ride nearby.”

“This is a smooth ride?”  Emmy asked in amazement as the carriage swayed and jolted along the road.  The crunch of the gravel under the wooden wheels was audible and gave the impression of rolling a pin over graham crackers when she made a crust for a pie. The vibration grated against her nerves like nails on a chalkboard.  She shuddered.  “God bless the invention of multipoint suspension,” she muttered as they bounced over a particularly big rut in the road.  She hung on to him with one hand and a strap hanging on the side of the carriage with the other as they went along.

“Good God, lass,” he scolded.  “Ye act like ye’ve never been in a carriage before.  It’s not that bad!”

“I don’t know, Connor,” she denied with a slow shake of her head gulping deeply as motion sickness started to overtake her, “if this is a smooth ride, I might have a problem.”  The closed carriage allowed for no airflow and no windows to view the passing landscapes.

Connor looked disgusted and reached across her to pull down the window beside her.  The cool breeze hit Emmy on the face and she turned to it gratefully taking a deep breath.  “Ye think this is bad, wait until we are out on the water.”

Emmy shook her head in denial.  “I’ve never had a problem with seasickness, not in my entire life.”

“Well, I canna wait until we get there then,” he muttered with a measure of antipathy.

“Me neither,” she agreed.  The trip that had taken just ten minutes in the shuttle took almost an hour in the carriage.  When they got to the dock, Emmy was trembling and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  Shakily she accepted his offer for tea at a nearby inn while he made sure the boat was ready.

What a nightmare!  Never had she been so keen to the motion of any vehicle she had ever ridden in.  Every little sway had her swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat.  The only thing that she had to feel thankful for - besides the end of the trip - was that she hadn’t vomited in Connor’s lap along the way.  She refused to even think of the return trip at this point.  Emmy couldn’t imagine how these people suffered such horrific travel conditions regularly.  Indeed, for the duration of her stay, this might be her single expedition out of Duart!

Well, chalk up one more strike against this time, she thought as she patted her cheeks with some of the cold water