Page 14 of Forever My Lass

“Yes, and if you have a telephone I could use, that would be wonderful. I need to contact the US embassy in Aberdeen.” The woman’s lovely mouth twisted up in a small moue as she seemed to think out loud. “At least I hope there’s an embassy there. My passport is at the bottom of the ocean., and I need a replacement.”

“A telephone?”

Iain frowned for a moment. In the past ten years, the telephone had become fairly common in the homes of those with unlimited means. But even if he could afford the luxury, the technology had yet to reach the countryside. He shook his head.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have one. I can send my stable boy to the village to send a telegram to the hotel.”

He pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk, removed the cap from his fountain pen, and bent his head over his stationery, waiting for her to speak. When she remained silent, Iain lifted his head to see her staring at him as if he had two heads.

“You don’t have a telephone? Not even a cell phone?”

“I believe I just confirmed that.” He arched an eyebrow in annoyance at being questioned. He didn’t know what a cell phone was, but it must have been similar to a telephone. Madeline’s gaze narrowed at him, and she cautiously retreated towards the study door.

“Do you have a car that could take me to Aberdeen?”

“A car?” Iain frowned.

“Yes, a car. It has an engine and takes you places.”

Brown eyes wide with alarm, Madeline Whitworth paled as she took another step toward the exit. Fear flashed crossed her face as she stared at him in obvious alarm. Puzzled by her behavior, Iain dropped his pen onto the desktop and narrowed his gaze at her.

“I’m well-acquainted with automobiles, but I don’t own one of those either. But, if you would kindly sit down, I can make arrangements to send you wherever you wish to go.”

With a sweep of his hand, Iain gestured toward the chair facing his desk as he slowly walked around the dark mahogany furniture. The moment he moved, she took several quick steps backward until her hand was wrapped around the doorknob.

For all her womanly charms, Madeline Whitworth was proving to be quite difficult. He should have expected this. A woman dressed in men’s clothing, who was most likely a stowaway, should have been warning enough.

“Miss Whitworth, come sit down before you collapse to the floor,” he bit out between clenched teeth. When she didn’t move, Iain released a soft growl of irritation. “I can assure you, Miss Whitworth, I mean you no harm. Now, stop acting like an addlebrained female about to have the vapors and sit down.”

She immediately straightened to her full height and glared at him. The woman obviously didn’t like someone dictating to her. In the back of his head, he admired the way she’d pushed aside her fear in her refusal to be intimidated. The thought increased his annoyance. He needed to find out where this woman belonged and send her on her way. The sooner she was gone, the better. Iain was beginning to think she wouldn’t listen to him when she suddenly walked toward the chair.

The only plausible explanation for her odd behavior was that she was still disoriented from her brush with death. That wouldn’t surprise Iain, given his own reaction a little while ago. Iain’s stomach knotted tightly in his gut as the old fear made his mouth go dry. As Madeline perched on the edge of the chair’s seat, he moved to sit down behind the desk.

Before he could say anything, she reached out to pick up the newspaper he’d casually dropped on the desktop. She turned the paper right-side up so she could read it, and a second later she made a gurgling sound in the back of her throat. If possible, she’d grown even paler than just a few seconds ago.

“Is this some sort of game?” she rasped as she looked at him. Fear darkened her eyes, and Iain shook his head in puzzlement. The woman was trying his patience much in the way Ainslie did.

“A game?”

“This newspaper, it says 1896.”

“It’s the fifth of August 1896, to be exact.” Iain pinned his gaze on her with irritation.

“That’s not possible,” she whispered in horror. The panic and fear in her made him frown with concern. She shook her head as her palm pressed into her stomach as if she was in some form of distress. “I was just in Aberdeen with cars and telephones and computers…the sailboat.”

In a flash of movement, the woman was out of her seat and running to the door. Iain muttered an oath as he lunged to his feet to follow her. As he reached the entrance hall, Madeline had already thrown open the front door and charged out of the house. He winced at the bright light streaming into the entryway.

“Fuck,” he snarled as he ran after her. So help him, if the woman caused him to have another headache, he would wring her neck.

Iain looked down the drive, expecting to see Madeline running toward the main road. There was no sign of her, and he uttered another oath beneath his breath and ran toward the side of the house. As he rounded the corner of the manor, he saw her racing toward the cliffs.

The memory of the phantom he’d seen on the precipice last night made Iain run faster. If she threw herself off the cliffs, there would be an inquest, something that would be even more disruptive than Madeline Whitworth was at the moment. He saw her stop at the edge of the cliff to stare down at the inlet. What the devil was wrong with the woman? In the next breath, she bolted toward the path that led down to the beach. A string of curses rolled past Iain’s lips as he reached the path leading down to the sandy shore and followed her.

“Madeline, stop,” he shouted angrily.

Either she ignored his command or didn’t hear him as she continued scurrying down the stony path. Iain frowned as he watched her darting downward. There was something about her gait that made it look as though she thought there were hot coals under her feet. Iain’s gaze fell on the stony path, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the small trail of blood sprinkled over the ground. She was bleeding. Grunting with anger and growing concern, he increased his pace, half skidding, half running downward along the narrow path.

When he reached the foot of the cliffs, he saw Madeline standing at the edge of the sea. The waves were rolling onto the shore, and the hem of her gown was dark from the water swirling around her legs. As he closed the distance between them, Iain watched her pacing back and forth while shaking her head. Every second or so, she would stop and stare out at what was left of the Phoenix Rising, lying battered against the rocks. It wasn’t until he was a couple of feet away that he could hear her.