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

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Emmy gulped as he approached the horse.

“At least I did not give ye a side-saddle.”  Connor’s humor was running high now in the face of Emmy’s edginess.  His bold, fearless Emmy brought down by the oldest horse in the stables!

“Well, thank God for small favors.”  Emmy put a booted foot into the stirrup, grabbed the pommel and heaved herself upward while Connor assisted by pushing up on her bottom.  She squealed as his hands cupped and squeezed and dropped back to the ground glaring at him.  “Behavior like that will not get me up there, you know.”

“My apologies,” he said humbly though his eyes spoke another story, twinkling with merriment.  “Yer…jeans, aye?  They hug yer bottom so that the temptation is too strong to ignore.”

“Well, my jeans are covered by a  long coat, so you have no excuses,” she chided and faced the animal once more reaching up for the pommel.  Connor crowded her from behind and slid his arms around her waist nuzzling the side of her neck.

“My excuse,” he whispered huskily in her ear, “is that I cannot go a moment of my day without remembering ye naked above me with yer hair tangled about yer body as ye scream with release.”

Emmy closed her eyes and shuddered.  “You are pure evil, Connor MacLean.  How do you expect me to sit up on that horse when I’ve got that picture in my mind now?”

“It was the picture that accompanied my mind through my entire morning,” he confessed stepping back.  That morning he and Emmy had both ‘gone to work’ at she phrased it.  Connor had tended to estate business and ridden out to his home farm while Emmy had examined Dory once more, putting her on bed rest and visited aunt Eleanor’s maid who had delivered of a daughter the previous week.  She reasoned that they could not spend their entire lives in bed no matter how pleasing it sounded. Otherwise, she insisted, they might be dead from exhaustion in a week.

Still, it pleased Emmy that she occupied his mind while he was away from her since she had felt the same way all morning counting the minutes until she saw him again.  When he had returned, she had nearly leaped into his arms in relief and dragged him back to their rooms.  They had spent a decidedly satisfying hour together before Connor had insisted on this whole charade.

Horses, ugh!  Give her a nice convertible any day.  Her Mini with the top down and heater cranked.  Didn’t he realize it was too cold for this?

Another boost put Emmy into the saddle and she stared down at him… and the ground, as he showed her how to hook her feet into the stirrups.  It was an English saddle, she realized with a mental palm to the forehead.  Duh! Where did she think she was?  Texas?  Of course that’s what they used here, but she had never sat on a horse like this before.  It felt strange, though not as uncomfortable a seat as she remembered the western saddle with her knees drawn up rather than hanging down the horse’s sides.  Connor gave her a brief tutorial on the reins and general instructions regarding how to stop and go.  “But what do I do if she tries to run away?”

“She won’t. Don’t worry.”

“But…”

“Daisy will do nothing beyond what is absolutely necessary, I assure ye,” he grinned that magnificent smile at her and Emmy couldn’t help but relax a bit.  It just made her feel all mushy inside when he did that.

“I’m pitiful, I know,” she confessed.

“Ye are,” he agreed, “but it has its own charm.”  Connor shot her an affectionate smile that melted her insides.

“Are you sure you want to put up with me?”

“Verra sure.”  They shared brilliant grins.

Off they went then at a walk.  Connor gave her instruction on using her legs to soften the stride as they moved into a trot.  He had been right; Daisy did nothing beyond mimicking Connor’s big horse, Bruce, named for Robert the Bruce, naturally.  Emmy just bounced along beside him having only to hold on since steering seemed unnecessary for the moment.  They moved into a cantor which Emmy liked much more since the stride was smoother.  Away to the west they rode toward the mountains in the distance and eventually dropped back into a walk.

At his questioning look, Emmy shrugged, ‘Okay, it’s not so bad.  I feel like I’m getting a nice workout anyway, but I’m still not going to put it on my list of favorite things to do.”

“What are yer favorite things to do?” he asked, wondering how they hadn’t discussed that yet, but amended quickly, “Besides delivering babies.”

“Well, I like music, of course.”  They had spent the previous night running down the remainder of her phone battery as she played her favorite songs for him.  She had been pleased that he finally seemed to appreciate many of them, but had almost cried with the player died.  “I like to travel and see new places.  I like to read and visit old buildings and museums.  I like to go to the movies and go to new restaurants.  I love to eat good food.”

Connor remembered her telling him before about all her favorite restaurants in Baltimore.  Seafood, she seemed to prefer and he wondered if the Sound might provide something she would enjoy.  He made a mental note to question the cook about that.

“That’s about it,” she went on.  “I’m not much of a party girl since college, work sees to that mostly.  I love a quiet night in front of the fireplace with a good book and a glass of wine.”

He could give her that, Connor realized.  Other than the movies, her favorite things were all easily provided in his time.  They could travel together, he thought, to take in the opera and theater in London, Paris and even her New York.  They could dine on the finest cuisine available and