“And what’s with this fake accent? You’re not on a movie set any longer. Stop it immediately. It’s grating on my nerves.”
“Enough, Mother. I’m done with this and with you.” Olivia parted her lips in rebuttal, but Scarlett was ahead of her. She stood close enough to stare her right in the eyes and added more bluntly, “I’m not your puppet any longer, Mother. I told you I’m done and I won’t say it again.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “You think that will put an end to it all? They will hound you to the end of time.”
They would. Hopefully, however, she’d soon find a time they couldn’t follow her to.
“You may go, Mother.” Scarlett put all the haughtiness of the countess she was into the command. Cold and final. “Feel free to return if you’d like to meet your son-in-law or granddaughter. But not before.”
Her mother gaped. Hemmed, hawed and threatened. Finally, she turned on her heel with the promise to return, and Scarlett drew in a deep breath in an attempt to expel all the scorn her mother had piled on her. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to wash away the past half an hour with imaginings of how a true mother-daughter reunion should have gone. How a loving grandmother would have greeted her new baby. Between her mother and Laird’s stepmother, they’d obviously never know.
Strong arms encircled her and lifted her. On Laird’s lap as he sat in a chair, she nestled into his warm embrace and took solace in his strength. How would she have ever survived here without him? Where would she have been in this time without knowing the support and comfort of his love?
“We’re most definitely no’ naming our lass after yer mother,” he said quietly, drawing a choked laugh from her.
“No, we’re not.”
“Tyrone seems a decent enough man, though.”
“One of them ought to be.” She tilted her head back and kissed the bottom of his bearded chin. “Have I told you lately how happy I am to have you?”
“Nay, but yer happiness couldnae exceed my joy. I would hae naught, no’ even my own life, if no’ for ye,mo chroí.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers, then deepened the kiss. Their breath mingled. Scarlett shivered as his tongue plunged, dueled with hers, and inhaled the scent of soap and aroused male. She wound her arms around his waist, reveling in his strength. A moment later, his hand drifted upward to cup her breast. “My bonny lass. How much time do ye think we hae ere everyone returns?”
Scarlett shook her head with a low chuckle. “I did just give birth to your daughter less than twenty-four hours ago, you know?”
“Shall I see if I can make ye forget the exact number of hours?” He kissed her again.
“You already have,” she whispered against his lips. “How about just holding me and assuring me everything is going to work out for the best? I can’t live this life again.”
“Ye willnae hae to. All will be well, I promise.”
He’d never broken a promise to her, but Scarlett feared there was a first time for everything.
Scarlett
“Back already? That was quick.”
No more than a few hours had passed since Emmy and Connor left. Scarlett hadn’t expected them to return for at least an hour more. She hadn’t even managed a nap after her mother’s visit before Rhys brought Hermione back from their outing.
“Ye hae nae idea, lass,” Connor countered, his palm pressed to his stomach just below his ribs.
“Are you all right? Did something happen?”
Emmy came in behind him with a laugh and patted her husband on the butt affectionately. “Nothing a little Dramamine couldn’t fix. Turns out my speedster here is a lover of back roads and freeways, but not so comfortable with the constant stop and go of a more urban environment.”
Connor looked affronted, drawing himself up to his full height. He was wonderfully handsome, not so gorgeous as Laird, but Scarlett imagined he looked splendid against the rugged backdrop of the castle he’d told her about. Like Laird, he wouldn’t like being seen as weak. Or less than the alpha sort of male he was in his own time period.
“But I did a fine job of driving when Hugh let me. I ne’er dreamed of traveling at such speeds. A true thrill, I cannae tell ye how I’ve longed to—”
“Who is this Hugh ye speak of?” Laird cut in. “No’ one of those paparazzi Scarlett warned ye to avoid, I hope?”
“No, not a paparazzi. A passerby who was kind enough to give us a ride down to Dunskirk and back again. Really quite kind of him.” Emmy paused, biting her lip. “He asked to meet you.”
“I don’t want to see anyone,” Scarlett reminded. Besides, she’d had enough of ‘visitors’ after her mother’s surprise visit. “You know that.”
“Not you. Laird.” Emmy turned to him with a shrug of apology. “I know such a claim seems strange, but he says he knows you.”
Laird’s brows bunched together. “Impossible. ‘Tis obvious I ken nae one in this place. Send him away.”
