Just that tiny gesture and he was hers. No anger, no angst. He felt a corresponding gladness well within him. Suddenly he knew that being with her, making love to her would be the most liberating of experiences. The driving passion, pounding of hearts and bodies would be a balm to his soul as well as a release of body and desire.
“Tell me about the woman you were going to marry,” Emmy asked. The look on his face was unsettling and she wondered desperately what he was thinking, she wasn’t so brave to voice that question and she needed a distraction. “Had you asked her already?”
“Mary Guthrie,” he told her entwining her fingers with his as he forced his thoughts in a new direction with a clearing of his throat. “No, I had not asked for her hand yet. Her father owns Duart House not far from here.”
“Really? I thought the MacLean’s owned all the land around here?” she tried to remember that page of her guidebook. Emmy glanced down at their joined hands. Electricity flowed from the contact but at the same time was comforting. She squeezed his hand in return.
“We had,” Connor confirmed. “My family had been on this land for 300 years before the Jacobean rebellion had the MacLean’s fleeing the rage of the queen. The castle was burned and left in ruin. The land itself sold and resold until part was bought and built on. A Colonel Campbell built Duart House twenty years ago but lost his fortune in investments as a result of your War Between the States and sold it to Arbuthnot Guthrie who owns it now. It was then that my father was able to finally buy back the castle which was little more than a shell at the time.” He twisted and look back at the castle. “We have worked hard to restore it and rebuild it to what it is today. Only the outer walls of the castle are original. The entire interior has been much rebuilt. Ye’ll recall the interior courtyard is much more modern than the outer walls.”
“You have done a wonderful job,” she praised freely.
“I have merely continued the work of my father,” he shrugged but squeezed her hand again in appreciation of her words. “The first dozen years were spent just rebuilding the structure itself. The interior has only been worked on these past eight or nine years.” Fixing what he had thought had been the main reason his wife had fled. Bringing the castle up beyond the hovel Heather had complained about when they first met. He glanced at the lady at his side waiting for the anger to come, but to his surprise, it did not. “I had thought recently to do more. Mary Guthrie is her father’s only daughter. If I could not purchase the entire property back from them, I might at least gain a portion through her dowry.”
“You would have married her for land then?” Emmy asked, amazed.
He nodded and added, “And for money. It has taken much our fortune to carry out the restoration so far. It will not hold out forever.”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered tugging her hand away from him. With a sigh, he let it go.
“Aye, well, I married ye because my father asked it of me. Apparently there is not much I’d not do for my family.” Emmy turned to scowl at him but found amusement dancing in his eyes instead.
“That was rude,” she fussed. “Frankly, I think you do too much for your family. How can you let them live with you like a bunch of bloodsuckers and not contribute anything in return? Do they flock here for a free ride?”
Understanding her basic question, Connor waved it away. “They are ladies and gentlemen…and my family. They are not expected to work and it is my responsibility as laird to provide for them as I do for all those of my clan.”
“Bullshit!” Emmy countered with wide eyes shocking him with her speech. “You don’t even seem to like any of them! How can you tell me you don’t feel like they are a weight hanging around your neck…and wallet? What happens when you don’t have the fortune to support them all? Will you continue to be the only one working while they live in the lap of luxury, waited on hand and foot?”
He shrugged unconcerned.
She blinked once then letting out an amazed breath. “Wow, you are a bigger man than I am,” she admitted with incredulity shaking her head.
“I should hope so.” There was a part of him that was appalled by her base language. He had never heard a woman curse so often as she. Fortunately that part of him was growing smaller with each moment he spent in her company. There was another part of him that was delighted by her; by the instant familiarity she projected to everyone she met. It was if she knew no stranger, knew no bounds from those she met.
“Wait a minute. Isn’t Duart House called Talully or something like that now?”
“Torosay,” Connor corrected. “Aye, Guthrie has said the two properties now owned by different families should be named differently to avoid confusion. He has named it Torosay Castle. Yet most locals still think of it as Duart House.”
“I had tickets to that,” she whispered forlornly staring out over the sound.
“Tickets?” he wondered aloud, curious at what she meant by that.
“For the house, gardens, gallery and tearoom. Open from 10:30 to 5 pm,” she sighed.
“Guthrie is selling tickets to view his house? And gardens? They are nothing worth spending a halfpence on!” he stood in outrage.
“Six and a half pounds,” she corrected thinking she might be amused by messing with him if she wasn’t so depressed by her situation.
“Good God! That is highway robbery!” he sputtered, his already heavy brogue thickening.
“I know,” she nodded sadly, unable to stop herself. “Duart was only about five pounds.”
“Someone is selling tickets to
