‘Holy cow, this man can kiss!’ she thought fuzzily as his open mouth met hers again and again before settling over hers more forcibly. She could feel the frenzy that was building in him and felt the answering cry of her body in return. God, she wanted him! Would it be so wrong?
His big hands came up to cup her breasts just as a heavy rapping sounded on the door of the study. Jumping back, she caught herself on a nearby table as the door swung open missing her by inches as Ian bounded into the room.
“Connor! I have news!” he announced enthusiastically with a smile before raising his eyebrows on seeing Emmy peeking from behind the door and Connor studiously rearranging papers from the front of his desk. “Or maybe, you have already heard,” he amended with a grin.
“Aye, Heather has just been telling me the good news,” Connor returned his brother’s smile and held out a hand for Ian’s handshake.
“I’ll just return to my room then,” she mumbled as she rounded the door torn between embarrassment at nearly being caught in a compromising position and irritation that Connor had again addressed her by that name.
“What about that ride?” Connor questioned as she left.
Emmy continued on but her answer trailed sarcastically out behind her. “Not now, dear, I have a headache!”
Chapter 19
A medical bag was delivered to Emmy’s room by a footman late that afternoon. She had jumped when the knock sounded thinking that Connor had come to barrage her senses and sensibility once again. She told herself that she was not disappointed when it was only the delivery of the case. In actuality, it was more of a small square suitcase, hard sided with two buckle closures. Curiosity overriding dissatisfaction, she opened it up and sorted the items on the bed. Most looked familiar, she thought thankfully, though she realized it was more of a surgical bag than one for everyday medical calls. There were various clamps and forceps as well as several scalpels. Though made of steel, all had brass fittings and wooden handles that were more decorative than utilitarian. A stethoscope, orthopedic hammer, bandages with a spool of wire, some thread and two packets of needles. Lifting the tray underneath, Emmy found a tourniquet, small augur and a hacksaw.
Emmy shuddered as she put the tray back in place. Amputations. Before modern medicine, infections had often lead to gangrene and eventually amputation. She certainly didn’t want to wield the saw that performed the removal of a limb. It was part of the reason she had not chosen general surgery. C-Section was one thing, taking a leg completely another.
Of course while she considered the medical advances of this time to be horrifying and outdated, the medical community probably thought themselves to be advanced. Perhaps they were when compared to the previous decade or two. But Emmy knew the future, knew what the next 100 years of medical science would bring. What they would be able to diagnose and treat without ever once cutting into a body. Here, she might as well be figuratively banging a wooden club over someone’s head.
Thinking that what she knew about medicine, just the knowledge alone could save lives in this time, Emmy briefly considered what she might have to offer this time when a simple cold might lead to an early death. It bore consideration.
She was repacking the bag when Margo arrived carrying yet another gown. Thankful for the distraction, Emmy teased, “Time to put on the steel cage again, hmm Margo? What am I wearing tonight? Will it sing to me?”
The girl smiled at Emmy’s playful attitude. “Aye, m’lady, it will. Actually Mr. MacLean sent it along with his thanks for helping out Mrs. MacLean this afternoon. It’s a new gown the lady had ordered before she found out about the babe and they want you to have it.”
“They didn’t need to do that,” Emmy protested. “Dory has sent enough clothes already.”
“Mrs. MacLean said to tell that where the others were a loan, this one was to be a gift,” the maid corrected her. She laid the gown across the bed as Emmy stared down at it.
“Oh, wow, it’s amazing,” she whispered in awe reaching out to touch the lace and beads that served as the sleeves. The label said Worth and even Emmy, a hundred years away from home, knew what that meant. “The House of Worth.” The aqua blue velvet bodice was heavily decorated with the embroidery of silver threads and crystals. The skirt, however, flowed freely unadorned until about a foot from the hem where the crystal beading and embroidery resumed and did an intricate dance around the bottom of the full skirt. “I cannot accept it,” she insisted. “It is too much.”
“Mrs. MacLean thought you might say so and told me to tell you she wouldn’t follow your instructions if you didn’t take it,” Margo bit her lip to hide a grin as she delivered this bit of information.
“Blackmail!” Emmy accused wagging a finger. “I see how she is. Fine, I’ll wear it. It’ll be a horrible burden, but I’ll wear it”
The two women laughed together until Margo offered in all seriousness. “It might me a bit of a burden, m’lady. There may be no tournure but I’ll have to lace you up tighter to fit in it.”
“Now you tell me!” she moaned and Margo laughed again. Emmy enjoyed the maid’s merry company. She was about twenty and recently married to one of the castle’s footmen. Margo was a bit rustic. She’d had little education and knew only the work she did at the castle. But she was a happy sort of girl, always cheerful, and her good moods infectious. “How come you don’t have to cinch yourself up all the time?” Emmy complained eying
