A Laird to Hold by Angeline Fortin (best feel good books .txt) 📗

pleasing musculature. His blue swim trunks were shorter than those Claire had helped Rhys purchase. Snugger, too. He couldn’t resist dipping his eyes down a notch.

When he looked back up, the fellow’s expression had changed. He cocked his head as if Rhys were a curiosity or surprise, however there was no censure in his eyes nor the revulsion Rhys had experienced throughout his life when he’d been caught admiring the male form. In fact, he could have sworn there was a hint of pleasure there as the full-body assessment he’d just completed was returned in kind.

“Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed it,” the man murmured.

Rhys’s body tightened under the appraisal. Many of the males in this time were not as broad and heavily muscled as Rhys was. It left him wondering if he would pass muster. He never had to wonder in his own time but this one was ever contradicting all he thought he knew.

Added to that, it’d been some time since he’d felt such a tug of attraction. Not since Willem had died. A mournful pain squeezed his chest. He looked away. The sting wasn’t as piercing as it had been in the past. He was healing from his loss. Mayhap the time had come to begin looking to the future.

Rhys certainly hadn’t imagined Scarlett’s modern world to be anything like this. They’d been in this time for over a week already. Scarlett and Laird spent their days at the hospital. She’d gotten her agent to provide additional security for them there, leaving Rhys free to spend his days as he wished. He, Connor, and Emmy explored the new world around them. Hugh had updated them regarding the history of Scotland. The changes over time concerning government and religion, though he’d mysteriously asked Rhys not to get him started on notions of evolution and the Big Bang Theory. Whatever that was.

The Edinburgh he’d known was still there between the cracks of the more modern world. Rhys took some comfort in knowing the things his contemporaries had built weren’t entirely swept away by the winds of time.

There was a fresh exhilaration though in exploring the new. Never knowing what he’d find next. Far more exciting than his predictable life at home—travel from court, to his family at Crichton then to Dunskirk and back again in a never-ending rotation.

Unlike Laird, Rhys relished the unexpected, the rush of blood in his veins. He felt truly alive. Hugh and Claire were excellent guides. They’d been from one end of the city to the other in the past week. He’d visited pubs with the recognizable flavor of old Scotland and a nightclub with hellish music and flashing lights that left a bad taste in his mouth. Small shops and vast stores with enough clothing to fit every person he’d ever known a hundred times over.

Bookstores with volumes enough to keep him occupied for the remainder of his years. He couldn’t resist touching them, despite the no-touching policy Scarlett and Emmy had originally burdened them with. Hours spent at a bookshop called Blackwells were he’d found favorites that Scarlett had introduced him to with the books she’d brought to the past and hundreds more to explore. He’d brought his niece back with him for hours more. Even purchased her a replica wand of the one Hermione Granger had carried in the Harry Potter book series with the paper bills Scarlett had retrieved from her bank and distributed among them so they might fully enjoy their time here.

Hugh had introduced the men to the gym at the hotel, giving them another outlet for their energies. And had suggested the swimming pool to try next.

Through it all, however, Rhys had never been struck nor even clipped by Cupid’s arrow. Not tempted in the least by anyone he passed on the streets or talked to in the pubs.

He may not have been pierced full-on this morn. Nonetheless Rhys felt the breeze of one whizzing by. Best to ignore it, he thought. Despite Scarlett’s tales over the years about LGBT rights and social acceptance, Rhys didn’t fully believe such open approval was possible.

With a nod more to himself than the young man, Rhys took a seat in one of the many chairs along the perimeter of the pool, determined to wait for Hugh before entering the questionable waters.

The fellow watched him a moment more, then dove cleanly into the water. When he surfaced, he swam down the length of the pool before ducking into a turn and heading back again. Rhys watched as he did this repeatedly. Fine form. He fought to let his thoughts go no further.

A few other early risers trickled in to the enclosed swimming area. They exchanged nods or wishes for a good morn pleasantly. One entered the large pool, lingering near the steps. The other two moved on to the hotter waters of the smaller pool.

The fellow swam on.

Finally, he stopped at the near end of the pool and stood, running his hands over his face to shed the extra water. Turning, he looked to where Rhys sat close by as though surprised to still find him there. Still watching.

“Aren’t you going to come in?”

“Nay, I dinnae think I hae confidence enough in the waters.”

The chap smiled, his head tilted to the side again as if trying to figure Rhys out. “Maybe a smart move.” He heaved himself out of the water and stood at the edge, water sluicing down his lean, muscled body. His shorts clinging.

This time Rhys couldn’t hide his appreciation. Yet again the man didn’t seem to mind. “I’ve never heard a brogue as thick as yours before, mate,” he told Rhys. “Where are you from?”

“South of here,” he answered vaguely.

“Oh, are you staying in Edinburgh long then?”

“A fortnight more perhaps.”

“A fortnight?” Amusement lifted his lips. “An old-fashioned term.”

Irony worked its way up and out