A Laird for All Time Angeline Fortin (comprehension books .txt) 📖

hand.  “I know you are, don’t get your back up.  But let’s go a little further. What if the technology of the telephone, for example, advanced so much in a century that everyone had one of their own?  Not just a telephone but one that was small enough to be held in your palm and be used without wires or cords of any kind? Could you see that happening?”

“It is nearly unimaginable, but perhaps if science progressed so much,” he allowed enjoying the lass challenged him with conversation beyond the weather or business of the earldom.  Such an unusual woman she was!

“Let’s go even further then.”  She thought for a moment.  “How about H.G. Wells?  Have you read The Time Machine?”

“Just a few months ago, as a matter of fact.  It was just published this year.”  He was surprised that she had read it.  It was not a genre of books any of the ladies of his acquaintance would ever dream of reading.  Most women read novels or fashion magazines.  There wasn’t one in his household that had ever ventured into the library in search of intellectually stimulating materials.  But this woman was clearly different in almost every way.  That much was already clear.

“What did you think of it?”

“I thought it was well written…”

“No, no,” she corrected in exasperation.  “Not the writing or even the story.  What did you think of the premise of the book?  About time travel itself?”

“It’s fiction, my dear,” he reminded wondering not only at her question but the intensity with which she asked it.

“This from a man who just moments ago conceded that travel to the moon might be possible someday?”  She tsked lightly.  “That was fiction, too, Mr. Educated Man.  Look at this with those same eyes.”

“But there is no scientific basis for time travel,” he argued, “whereas travel to space could be seen as the progression of current science.”

“There is no scientific basis yet,” she corrected firmly.   “What if I were to tell you, right now, that I am from the future, have seen the future and it will be possible someday far beyond your lifetime, what would you do?”

“Lock you up in Bedlam?” he responded with a laugh but she didn’t join him.

“Surprisingly narrow-minded of you, Connor.”

He reached across the table and took her hand cajoling, “Come, my dear, be serious.  There are just some things that are not realistic even in the far future.”

Emmy opened her mouth to argue but changed her mind deciding now was not the time to argue the point.  The laird hadn’t even been able to accept that she wasn’t Heather MacLean yet.  How could she expect him to swallow the idea of time travel so quickly when she wasn’t entirely sure she believed in it herself despite her current situation?  She shrugged and applied herself to finishing her lunch, a nicely done roast beef with potatoes and veggies.  Comfort food for a cool fall day, she felt much better when she was finished.

When they were done, Connor tucked Emmy’s hand into the crook of his arm as they walked slowly back to the waterfront.  “Yer fingers are getting cold.”

“I left the gloves on the boat.  I’ll be fine when we get there.”  However, the sound was choppy on the return trip and the temperature had dropped dramatically.  Shivering, Emmy accepted Connor’s urging to remain below near the stove and out of the winds without argument.  By the time they docked in Craignure, Emmy would have wagered the temperature was near freezing and the clouds were definitely threatening rain.

Chapter 25

The rain began in earnest during the sickening drive back to Duart.  The carriage swayed and jolted even more with the buffeting winds and rain pounding against the side.  She was weak with motion sickness and drenched when they made it through the courtyard and into the castle.  Leaning tiredly against the wall in the hall, she stripped off the wet coat and gloves wishing she could drop the wet, heavy skirts and petticoats right there are as well.

“I will call Margo to draw a hot bath for ye,” Connor offered not likely the pale color of her cheeks.  “I don’t want ye to take a chill.”

“A bath sounds wonderful, but I can do it myself.  Don’t bother Margo,” she begged.  “I gave her the day off to spend with her mom; apparently she hasn’t been feeling well.”

“At least allow me to help ye to your room.”  He took her arm solicitously, but Emmy would have none of that.

“I am not an invalid, Connor.”  She shook him off and straightened determinedly. “I can certainly haul my cookies up one set of stairs,” she muttered as she set off up the sweeping staircase.

“Cookies?” Connor repeated as she took the stairs.  What were a person’s cookies?  Surely he would never understand her slang.

Once in her bathroom, Emmy started the water and stripped off her soaked clothing.  Immediately she started feeling better just shedding the icy clothing.  Stepping close to the tub, she toweled her arms and legs over the heat of the tub, warming herself at the same time.

Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she filled up the sink as well thinking to hand-wash her bra and underwear before she soaked in the tub.  Her white silk blouse had gone to the laundress the previous day only to come back an interesting shade of yellowed ivory.  Obtaining a more gentle soap from Margo, Emmy had taken it upon herself to preserve her only real bra and underwear.  A day in pantelettes the previous day had shown her that bulky feeling wasn’t for her! She washed them at night in the little sink leaving the undergarments to hang dry overnight though she couldn’t expect them to last long under such abuse.

Poking through her tote bag while the water ran, Emmy pulled out her iPhone and earphones out and pushed the little buds into her ears while scrolling for a playlist of relaxing music.  She