Free A Laird for All Time by Angeline Fortin

to Emmy.  “My lady?  May I?”
    Emmy observed the exchange with interest. She took his arm silently and let him lead her toward the dining room, but she could not keep back the question for long.  “Don’t like each other much, do you?”
    Connor sighed as much at the quest ion as her unusual phrasing.  “Honestly no, we ha’ ne’er been truly amiable to each other.”
    “A simple ‘never have, never will’ probably covers it, huh?”
    A sharp, rusty laugh of surprise escaped him once again.  “Indubitably.”
    “Why don’t you get along?” She was unable to stop the question that followed. 
    “Perhaps because facing her every day has been a constant reminder of the humiliations ye once served me.”  His voice was low and pleasant but the flash of anger in his eyes told another story.
    As they entered the dining room, Connor bypassed the chair at the foot of the table and propelled Emmy forward to seat her at his right hand.  Though Emmy saw no problem with this, displeasure showed clearly on Dorcas’ face.  Other places were taken around the table leaving the foot unoccupied before Emmy figured out why. “Shouldn’t I be sitting down there if I am supposed to be your wife?” she asked.
    “I cannae converse with ye way down there and I feel no need to entertain anyone else.”  He signaled the waiting servants to begin their service.  “And, alas, I feel that I must try to speak with ye.”
    Emmy waited as a footman placed her napkin in her lap and stepped back before leaning toward him.  “ Well, don’t put yourself out there if it hurts so much,” she murmured drily.
    Connor did not answer but looked around the table. Emmy followed his gaze, watching his family chat with one another.  None tried to address Connor directly.  She wondered at that.  Why would no one speak to him?  Was he really such a bear that no one dared?
    Shaking her head, Emmy looked down at her elaborate place setting.  She realized she only knew what to do with about fifty percent of the forks, maybe three-quarters of the spoons.  Why did she need three glasses?  She had been to plenty of formal dinners throughout medical school and during her interviewing process, but none of those up-scale restaurants had been as sophisticated as this.  She glanced around the table to get a clue about where to start.  Giving up, she decided to work from the outside in and hope for the best.
    Leaning toward Connor so her words wouldn’t carry down the table, she suggested, “How about we talk about why you are having this big formal dinner when it is crystal clear that you hate every moment of it?”
     
    Connor started at the question.  He turned to her to find her gorgeous face just inches away.  The strong beauty of her features nearly took his breath away.  Strangely again he didn’t remember her being so lovely although Dorcas was there each day as a reminder.  She was waiting expectantly for a response to her question, which in the face of her splendor he could not remember.  “My apologies, what did ye say?”
    Emmy forked up a large piece of her first course and savored the buttery flavor of the fish. “You don’t like the clothes and fancy dinner,” she said around the mouthful.  “It’s painfully obvious.  So why do you do it?”
    Connor’s face hardened.  The warm look that had darkened his eyes only moments before vanished to a hard glint.  “My dear wife, ye more than anyone should know why I do all this.”
    Emmy temper spiked and her eyes flashed.  “ Pretending once again , that I am not your Heather, why don’t you humor me?”  Her voice was hard and uncompromising.
    The temper flaring in her eyes was arousing beyond belief, but Connor was determined to crush any attraction he felt for this woman who had betrayed him so long ago.   “I believe one of yer greatest complaints about Duart was that we were a horde of uncultured heathens who couldnae even dine properly.  Seemingly we