“So, about the space thing…”
Emmy might have persisted in her questioning, but the door was answered by a man who would make any rational woman’s mind blank for a minute or two. Even one as insanely and passionately in love as she. She was only human after all.
“Wow.”
The low expletive earned her a suspicious scowl from Connor. Not that Emmy saw it, only sensed it. Still, she couldn’t look away. Not just yet.
This man was massive, bigger in every direction than even her brawny, bulging spouse. His tawny brown hair was a little lengthy for her taste, however, the short beard accentuating every plane of his angular, dazzling face more than compensated. Piercing silver eyes studied them.
But his kilt was what snagged her full attention. The full regalia, blue and yellow tartan over a partially unbuttoned black velvet jacket with a linen shirt unlaced at the collar to reveal a tantalizing expanse of bronzed chest. For all the elegance, he was magnificently untamed.
“You know,” she murmured under her breath, close to Connor’s ear. “You haven’t worn your kilt in a long, long time.”
“And?”
The kilted man’s penetrating gaze had gone first to Connor. Gauging a possible threat, no doubt, he then turned to Emmy, his fierce expression softening a fraction.
The man’s stare moved then to Donell. A mixture of reactions chased each other across his face. Delight fell to suspicion then concern. He shifted, glancing over his shoulder, and Emmy finally tore her eyes away to glance up at her husband with an alluring smile.
“I think you should.”
The corner of Connor’s mouth quirked. “Should I?”
“Oh, believe me, I think we’d both get a lot out o—”
Emmy gasped as a young woman in a fur-trimmed, deep blue gown joined the man at the door. An all too familiar looking woman with lively brown eyes and auburn hair, but not one she’d ever expected to meet. Certainly not under these circumstances. “Ho-ly fu…fud…fudg—geez, I’ll just say it. Holy fuck. You’re Scarlett Thomas, aren’t you?”
Scarlett
Dunskirk Castle
Achenmeade, Scotland
March 1519
Scarlett blinked and blinked again. It’d been an eternity since she’d heard her name articulated in such a way. A combination of awe and anticipation in the two words she’d only experienced what seemed a lifetime ago. Before destiny had taken her away from a life of fame and fortune and given her a far more preferable one filled with love and laughter.
Since such effusiveness was the last thing she’d expected when she’d followed Laird to the door, she supposed her gaping mouth and wide eyes were an equal match to those sported by the tall elegant blonde gawking at her.
“Who are ye?” Laird demanded, his usually smooth brogue roughened with distrust. “What are ye doing here, Donell?”
Her attention shifted by his question, Scarlett glanced from the woman to the tall, ruggedly handsome man beside her, and settled her focus on the timeless old Scotsman lingering to the side. A wild array of emotions battled for supremacy. She and Laird had often spoken of Auld Donell and what they’d do if he ever returned to Dunskirk. Options ranged from hugs and thanks for bringing them together to fleeing his presence. Or in Laird’s case, running him through with his claymore.
Given the tangible tension radiating from her husband at the moment, Scarlett wagered he was leaning toward the latter.
“Donell.”
“Lass.”
Scarlett studied him up and down. From the tips of his booted feet, up his trousers and coat to the top of his balding pate as he yanked off his herringbone newsboy and wrung the cap in his hands.
“New tailor?” she asked, for his garb certainly wasn’t the typical Lowland dress she’d seen him in before. Or even the modern suit he’d worn the first time they’d met here at Dunskirk…five hundred years in the future.
Another glance over Donell’s companions pinpointed a more accurate time frame for her, for there was no mistaking the style despite the warm outerwear that covered their clothes.
“Late Victorian?” Scarlett questioned of the woman who still watched her with wide green eyes.
She blinked then smiled engagingly. “You know your history. Yes, of late.”
