A Laird for All Time by Angeline Fortin (room on the broom read aloud txt) 📗

Now to get through the day without incident.

To her right stood the stables in place of the dumpster that had been there the previous day. Flipping a mental coin, Emmy went left and rounded the northern corner of the building coming quickly to an abrupt drop-off at the cliffs which backed the castle.  The castle jutted straight up from those rocky crags overlooking the Sound of Mull and the mainland of Scotland beyond.  Perfectly built for defense.

But only half interested in the architecture, Emmy considered her situation with a mind less clouded by the distraction that Connor MacLean had presented the previous evening.  Surely something would get her home.  Maybe a repeat of her movements at the same time and place would do the trick.  Perhaps there was a wormhole that appeared regularly at that spot – assuming this was a random phenomenon and not a government accident of sorts.  There was something she remembered – maybe from Star Trek – that a time portal or wormhole might not appear in the same place twice.  Perhaps being in the same spot would not work.  Wasn’t that how Voyager got stuck out in the Delta Quadrant?  Emmy loved a good sci-fi movie but wasn’t sure how the science translated into reality…if it did at all.  That’s why it was called science fiction.  As for reality, she could remember nothing about Einstein’s theories on the whole mess.  What if there was nothing she could do?  Emmy had never been good at waiting for others to fix problems for her.  She was more proactive than that.

She leaned over the edge of the drop-off and stared down.  It was not a cliff so much as an extremely steep hill with sharp, angular rocks jutting out from it now and then.  And it ended not at the water but rather at a plain that angled out to the water. That beach of sorts was rocky and harsh with nary a plant to soften the landscape.  It was lovely, she sighed, shading her eyes against the morning sun.  The sun glistened and glinted off the rough waters left over from the night’s storms as they splashed and hit the rocks far below.  The roar of the waves was louder here filling her ears with their crash and growl.  It was violent and terrific.  Awe-inspiring, just as she had hoped it would be.

“It’s phenomenal,” she whispered in wonder.

“Ye were once afraid to come out here,” came that deep, delicious voice from behind her.  Emmy jumped just a bit in surprise and Connor caught her arm to steady her.  “Careful now, ye don’t want to fall over the edge.  Or were ye planning on jumping?  Tis not far enough to kill, I think, but indeed far enough to do much damage.”

“I would think you’d be glad to see me go.”  Memories of the previous night that had disrupted her sleep assailed her once again as the heat of his hand wicked through her jacket and warmed her arm.  One touch, she couldn’t believe it.  One impersonal touch and she was quivering in her boots with desire.  She cursed herself once again for her voluntary abstinence and silently renewed her vow ever to let it happen again.  Emmy jerked her arm a bit and he let her go crossing his arms across his broad chest.  “How did you know I was out here?” she asked tightly.

“My rooms overlook the courtyard and this side of the castle,” he tossed his head back toward the keep.  “I saw ye come out and decided to make sure ye weren’t out to kill yourself.” Connor had been dressing near the window when he saw her pass with her manly stride so visible with the tight trousers she wore.  Her garb was so mannish, so inappropriate, but he confessed to himself that she looked lovely this morning. Tendrils of hair had escaped their loose knot and danced across cheeks bitten rosy by the brisk October winds.  He fought the urge to cup her face in his hands to warm them.

“Believe me, buddy,” she sniffed taking in his trousers and half buttoned shirt.  She wondered if he had dressed in a hurry to come save her from herself. “This whole situation isn’t that bad yet. I’ll take a lot more before I’m ready to off myself.  How ‘bout you though?  You look pretty rough,” she couldn’t resist adding as she cast a critical glance noting the bags under his eyes and bloodshot eyes.  “Nursing a hangover?”

“Hangover?” he parroted inquisitively.

“You know?  Hit the bottle a bit hard last night and are regretting the result?”

“Don’t give yerself the credit for any such condition.  It had been my plan for evening long before ye arrived,” he told her coldly with a curl of his lip at the reminder of his annual observance of his greatest humiliation.  “I saw no reason to change my plans simply because ye were here.”

“Ouch,” she said lightly.  So her arrival or the arrival of his wife, as he thought she was, had not prompted a night in the cups.  He had been planning on it anyway.  Interesting yet sad that Connor seemed to have allowed the woman who had abandoned him all those years before to still hold such control over his life.  It softened her a bit toward him and, changing the subject, she offered pleasantly.  “Actually, I just came out for the view.  I’ve always loved stuff like this.  Waves crashing, thunderstorms, lightning, that sort of thing.  Nature at its most violent and beautiful.”

“As I recall, ye once expressed a fright of those same things,” he commented.

Emmy sighed and wondered if she could really do as Dory suggested and ride out this identity crisis with Connor.  He obviously thought of her as his missing wife and there was nothing she could say that was going to change his mind on that