He brushed her long bangs back across her cheek and noticed that, though the rest of her hair was still bound in some sort of clasp at the back of her head, some long pieces had escaped. He followed the tress with his fingers. How long it was! Laying it over her shoulder, he stroked the silky length then her cheek. So soft as was the texture of her skin. He had heard before the Americas were a harsh place where conditions outside the cities aged a person before his or her time. Clearly Heather had not suffered in her time away. She had left with little money or possessions he knew. How had she supported herself? Images flew through his mind as he wondered if she had sold herself for monies.
No, surely not! Yet she insisted that she had gone to university there, educated herself. One did not do that without money. And she had also said she owned a camera of her own. It hadn’t seemed an unusual thing to her so perhaps extravagance was a habit of hers. Her long legs were still encased in those tight trousers that flaunted body and bottom. Through her thin silk blouse, he could almost see the color of her skin. It was indecent yet alluring and he had to wonder again, had she invented stories to cover years of degradation and humiliations? He wanted badly to know the answers but at the same time dreaded the response he might receive. Anger and a jealous rage tore through him and he wondered at that as well.
He had not loved Heather when they had wed. It had been his father’s arrangement for him to wed the daughter of a friend he had served with during the Crimean War. Connor had not even met her until she and her father arrived at Duart in the days before the wedding. She had been pretty then, nothing compared to the more mature beauty before him now. She had been shy, withdrawn but haughty years ago and critical of Duart and its lack of refinement. But here she was now, forthright and outgoing and, despite the harsh welcome she had received from him, rather pleasant. Humorous if somewhat sarcastic.
She angered him. She intrigued him. In just a single day, she had enflamed him with both anger and lust until he did not know what to do with her. The physical attraction between them was powerful and explosive…he did know what he wanted to do with her, but could he take such a chance?
Connor traced her full lower lip with his thumb relishing the tingling warmth that spread up from his digit with that simple contact. She made a low moan in the back of her throat and raised a hand to brush away what disturbed her sleep. Unable to help himself, Connor leaned forward lightly brushing his lips across hers and wondered at his boldness. Even so subtle a touch was as stimulating as their first contact earlier in the day. Electric. He pulled back as she opened her eyes. She rubbed her lips and stared up at him in surprise. “What? Connor? What are you doing in here?”
“This room is shared between your bedchamber and mine,” he indicated the doors to the right, hers standing open, and the left, his closed. “It is part of our shared apartments.”
Her mouth formed a silent “O” that sent his thoughts again toward kissing her but he shook them off and headed briskly toward his room offering shortly as he went, “It is nearly time to dress for dinner. Your maid should be attending you shortly.”
Emmy stared at his bedroom door in confusion as it slammed behind him. He was running hot and cold without warning. It was hard to keep up with him. When she had awoken to find him so close after avoiding her the length of the day, the look on his face had been almost…tender? His voice soft. It had set off a trembling response in her chest. Then it seemed as if he had been angered by it or her? She was not sure. What she did know was that he was as physically attracted to her as she was to him and he wasn’t happy about it.
Of course, Emmy wasn’t pleased by their attraction either. She was lost from her own time and place, trapped in the past. She should be concentrating on finding a way out of this regardless of the fact that she had no idea what to do about it. Her focus should be on home. The last thing that should be occupying her mind was a man. Even if he was the most incredible man she had ever met. She longed to touch him, feel him. Her own response should have angered her. But it did not.
Emmy shook her head. They just didn’t build them like that in her time. Connor was…amazing, she sighed. Physically he was beyond compare. Beyond the clichéd tall, dark and handsome. His broad muscular build didn’t come from a twice a week workout at the local gym. Connor’s ruggedly gorgeous face was dark and weathered from the sun and elements, not from a beach or, worse, tanning bed. All of it suggested hard labor showing a dedication to his work, though specifically she wasn’t sure what that was, Emmy admired commitment in people. Beneath all that angst there obviously lurked a dependable man.
A rarity.
Very intriguing.
Dorcas arrived then with Margo drawing Emmy from her thoughts with a blush. When Dory inquired whether the dresses she had sent earlier fit, Emmy apologized and admitted that she had not thought to try them on and followed the pair back to her bedchamber firmly closing the door of the behind her. Laid out on the bed were the four dresses Margo had brought earlier. She hadn’t thought to look at them at all!
Her
