Chapter Four #2
It was true that Jacob had been trying for the last few hours to get her to lie down somewhere.
Joseph lifted Emma’s wrist to take her pulse, despite the beeping monitor a few steps away. It might have just been her imagination that he rubbed his thumb gently against the back of Emma’s hand before releasing it.
Their eyes met for an instant. His were a gray-blue color she’d honestly never seen before. There was something…luminous about him. Something different.
“I’ll go look for a room for ye, all right? Ye can have a shower? A wee nap.”
“Thank you, Joseph. I really appreciate that. You’re from Scotland, aren’t you?” She wasn’t sure why she’d asked him. Just to make conversation, she supposed. Or to prolong the inevitable.
He shrugged. “But not for a long time. What gave me away?” he asked with a grin.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think all you need is a kilt to go with that accent. It’s charming.”
“Or perhaps I can find me a wee bagpiper to follow me around so there’ll be no confusion.”
She laughed. It felt good to laugh after the day she’d had. “I’d like to see that.”
“So would I,” he said. “I’ll look after her now. Try not to worry.”
“Please try to help her live.”
With the briefest flicker of a smile in Emma’s direction, he nodded, then left the room.
It was probably just that she was so tired that she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly felt odd about that encounter.
Except that most of the nurses kept their thoughts to themselves, unlike Joseph Lassiter, who’d gone out of his way to be kind.
But she made a mental note to remember his name.
She wanted to make sure she thanked him later.
*
Connor tore off Joseph Lassiter’s name tag from the scrubs he’d requisitioned from the nurse’s lounge as he made his way down the corridor.
On the way, he buttonholed an orderly who agreed to arrange for a place for Aubrey to rest. It took no time at all to convince the thin, young orderly that it was his own idea, after all. Humans were so easy.
That done, he pressed the elevator button and entered alone, reverting back to his guardian form before the car hit the next floor.
Twice in one day was some kind of record for him.
First for Winston, then for Aubrey. Or rather, for Emma.
He shook his head. Yes, he’d done it for her, knowing how concerned she was for Aubrey’s safety.
Allowing Emma’s niece to walk solo into the mess at Emma’s home was not an option.
If whoever had torn apart Emma’s home hadn’t found what they were looking for, Aubrey wasn’t safe going back.
It seemed the least he could do to enlist Jacob to walk into the chaos first.
But doing Emma the small kindness of protecting Aubrey didn’t mean he’d changed his mind about her aunt. No. It only meant that he was doing his job. No matter what Marguerite thought.
And even though Emma appeared to have transformed in the intervening centuries, he couldn’t bring himself to forgive her. Or trust her.
A soul was a soul was a soul.
As the elevator descended, he remembered the first time he’d met Violet.
She’d been the oldest girl of eight, after all three of her brothers had died in infancy.
By default, perhaps, or more likely by force of personality, she became her father’s chosen one, his hope for the future, what remained of his line following his wife’s death.
A scholar and barrister, Callum Gray had taught his brilliant daughter to read and write, an unusual skill most men had found useless, if not threatening.
Connor had known her from the time he was ten when she’d arrived at his father’s estate alongside Callum Gray, riding her unruly pony, Duchess.
The horse’s name had amused him endlessly.
But after Violet had climbed to the top of the willow tree beside the pond to prove a point to his younger brother, Arthur, Connor had needed little to convince him that they would become friends. Later, much more than friends.
If he closed his eyes, a thousand memories would reappear of her, the adventures they’d had as children, especially climbing amongst the ruins of the ancient Narwick Castle that sat abandoned in the hills above the Montrose estate.
It was there the two of them would endlessly plot their futures where the wide Scottish sky met the moors of heather.
The second son of a duke, Connor’s path was already set.
It would take him into the military where he would prove himself, then build his own wealth as a soldier.
Violet had longed for nothing more than to follow in her father’s footsteps, attend university, to write treatises and histories of the country she loved.
All that would change when Connor’s older brother, Edgar, died. Connor had become heir apparent.
The military would not be his path, but he would be the next duke of Montrose. Somewhere between the ruins and the sea cliffs, he and Violet would see their future together.
They’d shared their first kiss there in the heather fields. It was there he’d asked her to be his wife. Her eyes had been the color of the moors in autumn, a dark-haired beauty whom men had coveted and pursued. But it was he who had won her heart. She was to be his wife. At least, he’d thought so.
The doors to the elevator swished open. Emma was standing on the other side.
“Connor!” She flung herself at him in a hug as effervescent as it was unexpected. “Oh, I couldn’t find you anywhere!”
Relief poured through him, too. Though he could hardly admit to himself that the thought of never seeing her again like this had struck a coldness through him. A dread.
To feel her in his arms again, her breasts pushed up against the wall of his chest, her breath, warm against his neck, tightened his gut. It also sent an unwelcome heat to his groin. Och , he’d been haunted trying to remember the feel of her in his arms for centuries, and now…
It took him a moment to remember himself.
“I was so scared when I woke and you were gone,” she whispered against his chest. “I don’t know what happened.”
Her mortal counterparts swirled around them, going about their business as the two of them stood in the middle of the hallway embracing, two rocks in a swirling stream.
Gently, he set her away from him, his gaze on her damp cheeks and the fear in her eyes. “Dinna worry. I am here for it all.”
“Did I…did I die?”
“There was some trouble. Do ye not recall it?”
She shook her head. “Only that one minute I was talking to you in the field and the next I woke in the hospital looking for you. But you were gone. Aubrey was gone, and Jacob—”
“That’d be my doin’.”
She looked at him strangely.
“I might’ve spoken to yer niece and to Jacob.”
Her eyes widened. She grabbed his hand to drag him toward the window in the hallway where they could have some privacy. Not that anyone could hear them.
“You spoke to them?”
“Aye. As I said, ’tis possible, now and then, to appear as one of ye. No one kens the difference.”
“Wait, so Aubrey talked to you?”
“She did.”
“What did she say?” she asked this urgently, desperate to hear the answer.
“She’s worried about ye. Ye already know she loves ye madly.”
Emma nodded. “And I, her. I’m not sure how she’d do without me.”
“’Tis not for you to fix, Emma. Aubrey has her own angels lookin’ out for her.”
“Does she?” She shot a hopeful look at him.
“Of course she does. But it’s good to hear you say that.
” She sat on the ledge of the window with the halo of the outdoor streetlamps behind her.
“It’s funny how a day can change everything.
One quick accident and all I thought was true, all I believed is different now.
Here I am, with you, and everything is upside down. ”
“Not everything,” he said with a half smile. “You’re upright again. I sent Aubrey to a room to get some rest. Jacob went to your home to get her some things.”
“But when he gets there, he’ll see…”
Connor nodded. “Better him than Aubrey. Best not to have her run smack into that alone. Not until we uncover who was behind it.”
She looked surprised. “We?”
He shrugged, staring out into the dark night. “I canna see ye doin’ it alone.”
Impulsively, she curled her fingers around his arm. “You’ll help me, then?”
Her touch sent an inexplicable, unwelcome shudder of want through him. “I will,” he said. “For as long as I can.”
She swallowed thickly. “Thank you, Connor.”
The look of gratitude in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. “’Tis my job.”
She knew as well as he how those words were meant to land. “Of course.” She dropped her hand and turned toward the window. “Why else would you help me?”
Now he’d stepped in it. He couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to her.
“’Tis wrong o’ me to hold Violet against you, I know,” he said, standing close to her, searching the darkness for what she was seeing.
“Just so you know, I have no idea who this Violet person is or how she hurt you, but I assure you I had nothing to do with her.”
Connor scratched his head, then shoved his hair out of his eyes. “That’s not exactly true. Because, Emma…you are, in fact, Violet.”