Page 13 of Forever My Lass

Madeline turned her head to the right and saw a piece of white sail billow outward in the breeze before falling lifeless against its mast. They were the rocks she’d seen in her dream, but the shipwreck wasn’t the sailboat. The boat in front of her was much larger and older than the sailboat. It had a funnel and three masts awkwardly jutting up into the sky. Madeline blinked, then stared at the shipwreck again, but the view didn’t change. Where was Destiny’s Dream? A wave of uncertainty swept through her as she stared at the rocks. Something was wrong, and she didn’t like the queasy sensation stirring in her stomach. Where the hell was she?

Chapter 4

Iain tried to maintain his focus on the news article in the daily Scotsman. It was proving to be a losing battle as his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman he’d rescued from the Phoenix Rising last night. The memory of how close they’d both come to drowning sent a chill surging through his blood until his body could feel the icy water soaking him.

With a grunt, he shoved the memory into a dark compartment in his head. He’d saved the woman, and now he had a mystery on his hands. Captain Napier had been adamant that the woman hadn’t been on board the vessel. The man had insisted the woman had to have been a stowaway.

From the clothes she’d been wearing, Iain was inclined to think the same thing. The pants and shirt she’d had on when he’d carried her back to the house had been of excellent quality, but had clearly been made for a man. The problem was her trunk.

Fingers drumming lightly against the newspaper on his desk, Iain shook his head in bafflement. The steamer trunk that had washed up on shore was a mystery. Stowaways didn’t travel with baggage. If she’d been a stowaway, how had her trunk gotten on board? It was a question that perplexed him, especially considering Napier’s insistence the woman had not been a passenger.

The gowns hanging in the dress compartment of the trunk had been of a material and design only found in a shop that catered to noblewomen or women of means. Then there was the brass plate just above the sturdy lock with the raised initials MW bolted down on the sheet of metal. The baggage was hardly that of a member of the working class. It made him wonder if Captain Napier had been lying. Perhaps the man had taken her on as a passenger and pocketed the money without telling his employer. If the woman were running from something or someone, she might have paid a large sum for Napier to take her on as a passenger.

Iain leaned back in his desk chair and closed his eyes. The image of the woman was still fresh in his mind from their encounter in the upstairs hall. Last night her shirt and trousers had clung to her, outlining a full, lushly curved body. But it had been a fleeting observation, as his thoughts had been grappling with their near brush with death.

Their meeting in the hallway almost an hour ago had been a much different encounter. She’d obviously just emerged from her bath, as her nightgown had hugged her body almost as well as her wet clothes last night, with one exception. The stiff nipples pressing against the white linen of her nightgown had been an erotic sight. The fierce urge to pull one of those rosy peaks into his mouth while his hand cradled the other full breast in his hand had stirred his cock beneath his work kilt.

The woman wasn’t a beauty, but there was something alluring about her. It was as if she’d come from a different world with her large, brown eyes that could hold a man prisoner with just a look. Even in the dim light of the upper hallway, they’d been luminous and beguiling. Perhaps the most enticing of all were her lips.

Full and plump, her mouth had made him long to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. The only thing that seemed out of place was the short length of her hair. It was cut almost as short as his, but unlike his black hair, hers was dark brown. The brown color held faint touches of light that enhanced the wavy soft curls.

The memory of how she’d looked in the upstairs hallway made his body tighten. There had been an ethereal quality about her that had set his imagination on fire. An image of her lying in a soft bed of heather, as if she were one of the fae calling him to join her, sent a strong surge of desire barreling through his veins.

Irritated by his fanciful thinking, he released a low growl of self-disgust. It had been a while since he’d bedded a woman, and his reaction to his unexpected guest was confirmation of the fact. His hand slapped the top of his desk and created a loud crack in the study as he launched himself out of his chair in a rapid movement.

Iain strode to the window to stare out at the sea that had tossed the woman up on his doorstep. The last thing he needed was an extra mouth to feed. He was also willing to wager money he didn’t have, the woman would disrupt his household almost as much as Ainslie’s daily antics. Household? He snorted with self-disgust. The only disruption would be to his sleep, given his less than restful slumber last night. At the sound of a quiet knock on the door, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Enter.”

The harsh command echoed sharply in the room as he waited for whomever was on the opposite side of the door. The door didn’t open immediately, which indicated the person on the other side had hesitated before venturing into his domain. As the door slowly swung open, he turned around and watched his unexpected guest walk into the study. Hands clasped behind his back, he studied her in silence for a moment, remembering the last time they had met.

“Good morning…again.”

Iain’s quiet greeting sent a pink color cresting up over her cheeks, forcing him to bite back a smile. He shouldn’t tease her, but something provoked him to do so. She met his gaze for an instant, then averted her eyes as the flush in her cheeks darkened.

“Hello…I am…are you, Lord Glenburnie?”

“Aye.” His cryptic reply made her look uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat as he met her gaze. “And you are?”

“Madeline Whitworth.”

“Well, Miss Whitworth, I am assuming it’s Miss.” At his speculative observation, she verified her unmarried state with a bob of her head. He paused for a brief moment as he remembered the initials on the steamer trunk. That was one mystery solved. Iain ignored how much her unattached status pleased him. “You, Miss Whitworth, are a very lucky woman.”

“I don’t remember much, but I understand you pulled me out of the water. Thank you,” she replied quietly. “I would have died if not for you.”

“You should give yourself a great more credit, lass.” Iain shook his head as he remembered how valiantly she’d swam toward him last night. “I simply gave you something to hold on to. You were the one who battled the sea to reach the rocks.”

Silence stretched between them, and Iain experienced a unique feeling of awkwardness. He’d not been this tongue-tied since he’d asked Maggie MacLean to dance at the county fair when he was still a boy. He cleared his throat, then walked toward his desk. It provided something solid between the two of them. As to why he thought he needed a barrier between them, he wasn’t sure.

“The captain—”

“I wanted—” Her full lips twisted in a wry grin as she met his gaze. Determined not to allow himself to get lost in her soft, brown-eyed gaze or think about the sweet curve of her mouth, Iain waved his hand in the air.

“Please, proceed.” His taciturn command made her wince slightly before she nodded.

“I don’t wish to impose on you any longer than necessary, but did the captain make arrangements for me to return to my hotel in Aberdeen?”

“Hotel?” Iain eyed her in puzzlement.