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

it wasn’t a feeling she imagined having within fifteen minutes of meeting a man…especially one she considered completely nuts.  She had never felt lust that overwhelmed the senses and brought irrational thoughts and impulses to mind.  She believed strong physical attraction was normally the result of getting to know a man.  In her romantic experience, a good sense of humor was the most powerful attractor she had ever come across.

With this laird, Connor, she wanted more than anything just to feel those strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly with all the desperation and desire she had seen in his eyes.  More than anything, she knew that one kiss with him would be the most memorable experience of her life.

“Ohh!” she moaned burying her head in her hands once again.  “What I am doing?  I am such a nitwit!”

“I would probably have to agree on that point,” Dorcas volunteered as she poured herself yet another cup of tea while Ian slipped out of the room after his brother.  “You shouldn’t have said that to him.  Now he’ll be a horrific boar for days and days.  Not that he is ever in good humor, mind you.  You’ve only made it worse.  More tea?”

“You should really back off on that stuff.  That much caffeine isn’t good for you.” Emmy commented as she slouched back in her chair and sipped her own iced tea.

Not even realizing the other woman was repeating ‘caffeine’ to her even as she glowered at Emmy’s posture, Emmy muttered to herself.  “What am I supposed to do now?  I’m sure I missed the ferry back to Oban by now.”

“You should really sit up properly.  Your posture is simply atrocious,” Dorcas scolded as if she couldn’t help herself earning a glare in return from Emmy.

“You said that already,” Emmy told her.

“Then you must accept it as fact.”  Dory pursed her lips and considered Emmy thoughtfully.   “In truth, I am most curious how you arrived here today.  There was no ferry from Oban today and Connor noted there was no carriage on the road when you arrived here.  Did you walk from Craignure then?  It is a long distance.”

“I didn’t walk.  I took the shuttle.”  Emmy rubbed her hand over her face as if she could massage this all away.  “I’m not sure where it went either.  Ugh, this is crazy!  Like a bad dream!”

“Well, it is late.  Perhaps after a night’s rest everything will be clearer.  Worry not, as long as Connor believes you are Heather, you will have a place to stay at least,” Dory offered patting her hand.

That got Emmy’s attention.  “What do you mean ‘as long as Connor believes’?  Don’t you think I’m this Heather person?”

Dorcas’s eyes narrowed on Emmy and questioned in return.  “Don’t you think I would know my own twin no matter how long she’d been gone?”

“So you know I’m not her.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are not.”

“What makes you so sure?  And why didn’t you tell Connor that?”

“The Heather I knew would never come back to Duart.  She disliked Connor on sight and had absolutely no intention of marrying him.  She was unable to stop that but ran away while he waited for her to ready herself for his bed.  She would be a fool to come back after this time and she was no fool.”  Dorcas sipped and regarded Emmy curiously.  “And I did not tell him so, not only because he would not believe it no matter how vehemently I assured him it was so but also because I am curious who you truly are.  Moreover, what reason you have for coming here now, today of all days?  Can you answer that?”

“I’m afraid I can’t so that just yet,” was Emmy’s truthful confession.

“Well, Connor will be expecting you to stay until you can, so we might as well see you settled in.”  Dorcas heaved herself from the settee belly first and preceded her to the door motioning for her to follow.  “Since you had no other bags with you I guess I will have to lend you some proper clothing.  But it is late and such things can be accomplished in the morning.”

“Bags?  I have bags!  They are safe in my little hotel room across the sound.” Emmy made a little rowing motion with her hands.  “Safely back in the twenty-first…” she clamped her mouth shut quickly.  “Any clothes you can offer would be appreciated, I guess.  At least I have my toothbrush.”

Dorcas led the way back up the stairs and through a labyrinth of hallways to the room where Emmy had been before.  Reaching up inside the door, she twisted the knob on a large wall sconce and a small flame grew in the globe lighting the room.  “Gaslights?” Emmy asked.

“Aye, all the main and family rooms are lit and a very nice convenience it is.  Since the MacLean’s regained possession of the lands and castle, the laird has been doing much to restore the castle as his father, the first Connor MacLean had before him.  He recently had the entire castle plumbed with all the modern conveniences.”  She indicated a doorway to the right and peeking in Emmy saw a large bathroom with a sink, commode and claw foot tub, all looking terribly Victorian, historic and, thankfully, familiar.  At least she wasn’t going to have to use an outhouse, chamber pot or any other equally awkward or distasteful substitute.

“The room is lovely,” Emmy offered. It was, in fact.  Probably a classic example of Victorian décor.  The bed was a large four post bed but the posts, headboard and footboard were all intricately carved in scrolling floral motifs.  The bedding and curtains were a lovely lilac gray silk though more frilly and lacy than Emmy tended to like things.  There was a dressing table and pair of upholstered chairs, wood framed and delicate, near the fire.  Overall, it was aesthetically pleasing.

Dorcas, however, offered a short snort.  “You should have seen this place ten years ago.  It was a near ruin