Page 15 of Forever My Lass

“It’s not possible. It’s just not possible.” The panic in her words as she paced the sandy shore line startled him. Madeline didn’t even glance in his direction as he stopped a few feet away from her. She simply walked back and forth, muttering to herself. “It can’t be 1896. This is just one of your nightmares, Madeline. You’ll wake up soon and be back home.”

“Madeline.”

When she didn’t respond, Iain thought she might not have heard him. A few seconds later, she abruptly halted her pacing to stand stiff and motionless as she stared out at the shipwreck. Iain said her name again, and she whirled around in a sharp movement. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and his heart slammed into his chest at her confused look of horror.

“I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t belong here,” she said as she stretched out her hand to him. “I don’t even know where here is.”

Something twisted in Iain’s gut as he took her hand in his and gently pulled her into his arms. Her face buried in his shoulder, she sagged against him. Instantly, Iain swept her up into his arms, and she cried in a heartbroken manner against his chest.

Glancing down at her feet, he sucked in a sharp breath of shock. She was barefoot. With a shift of his arm, Iain swung her legs up high enough so he could crane his neck and look at the bottom of her feet.

“Màthair of God,” he exclaimed in horror at the cuts across her soles. “Where are your shoes, lass?”

The only reply Madeline gave was a tearful sob. A grim resignation swept over him as she continued to cry in his arms. Whatever was wrong with her, it was bad enough for her to ignore the cuts on her feet. The salt from the sea water had to have exacerbated the pain, but she seemed oblivious to the fact. In silence, he carried her toward the path leading to the top of the cliffs. As they reached the narrow trail upward, Iain came to a halt.

“Madeline, I need tae put ye over my shoulder, I cannae carry ye up the path like this. We’ll fall tae our deaths.” She stirred in his arms and raised her head. Eyes red from crying, she met his gaze and shook her head.

“I can walk,” she whispered. The hopelessness he saw in her brown eyes aroused a protective instinct inside him.

“Dinnae be a fool, woman. Your feet are too badly cut tae walk up the path.”

“I can walk on my own.”

Madeline’s voice was stronger now, and there was an obstinate air about her that made Iain groan with frustration. He already had one stubborn female in his life, and this one was proving to be as bull-headed as Ainslie. Setting her down on a nearby rock, he pulled his sgian dubh from his hose and squatted in front of her. In quick succession, he cut the hem of her dress off into several strips. Iain tucked the small knife back in his stocking and lifted his head.

“This is apt tae hurt, lass.”

Madeline met his gaze and gave him a sharp nod of understanding. As gently as he could, Iain began to wrap her feet in the wet cloth. The only sound she made was a sharp hiss of air, but he knew she had to be in pain as she held herself rigid. When her feet were bound, he straightened and offered his hand to her.

“Are ye certain ye want tae do this?”

“Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she placed her hand in his.

As she stood up, Madeline’s mouth twisted in a grimace of pain, but she didn’t utter a sound. Instead, she limped her way to the path and started upward. Iain followed behind her and marveled at her perseverance as she slowly made her way up the rocky trail. Her stubborn determination to make her way to the top of the cliffs on her own only strengthened his impression of how much she reminded him of his daughter.

It took them twice as long to climb the path as normal with Madeline limping her way upward. By the time they reached the top of the cliffs, her limp had become an uneven stagger. Iain could only imagine how badly her feet hurt as he came up behind her and lifted her up into his arms. While he was tempted to send for the doctor, he knew Grace could tend to Madeline’s feet easily enough. It was her emotional state that concerned him more.

A hard shudder rocked its way out of her and into his chest the moment she was cradled against him. One arm wrapped around his neck, she pressed her face into his jacket. There was a sense of defeat about her that troubled Iain. It created a deep-seated urge to protect her, no matter the cost. The power of the emotion caught him by surprise as his arms tightened around her. With a grimace of confusion at the feelings assaulting him, Iain carried Madeline back to the manor at a fast pace.

Chapter 5

Pain was the first thing that pierced Madeline’s consciousness. Her feet hurt like hell. Slowly opening her eyes, she breathed in the soft aroma of the outdoors. The smell drifted down from a soft linen pouch resting on her forehead. She recognized soft traces of lavender mixed with pine, but there was something else mixed in with the aroma she couldn’t place. She reached up to touch the sack, but a small, warm hand prevented her from touching it.

“Stop,” a quiet voice commanded. A second later, a young girl she’d not seen before leaned over her and removed the pouch off Madeline’s forehead. “I dinnae want ye to spill the herbs all over ye.”

For a moment, Madeline stared up at the girl, whose hair was the bluish black color of midnight. It was pulled away from the sides of her face and tied at the back of her head in a half-ponytail. Long and silky looking, her hair fell down over her back and shoulders in a gentle wave.

Slender and frail looking, her eyes had a slight tilt to them with long, black lashes that emphasized their violet color. As the girl smiled down at her, Madeline’s gaze swept around the room. It was the same room she’d woken up in this morning. The only difference was it had been bright and sunny then. It was nighttime now.

Two oil lamps cast a soft glow on the walls of the room. Each one had a brass base that supported a clear glass container filled with oil. Although she couldn’t see the flame inside the pale white, opaque ball on top of the burner, she could see its shadow dancing behind the glass. Smoke from the burning oil drifted up out of the globe’s slender chimney in a thin white stream before it dissipated in the air.

Her gaze shifted around the room, and her heart sank as she closed her eyes again. She was still in Lord Glenburnie’s house. She was still in 1896. The memory of the inlet she’d dreamed about all her life pushed its way into Madeline’s head followed by the image of the shipwreck on the rocks. She knew the difference between a sailboat and a ship. The vessel down in the inlet resembled an old sailing ship with one of the Titanic’s black funnel smokestacks plunked in between its masts.

But where was Destiny’s Dream? The sudden memory of her head hitting the deck and her mouth filling with sea water as she slid into a dark void, made her tremble. Fear cascaded over her like the hard waves that had pushed her deep into the sea, and she shuddered.

She was dead. She had to be. There could be no other explanation, because time travel wasn’t possible. None of this could be real, and yet everything was a tangible stroke against her senses. The scent of flowers, the freshly laundered sheets against her skin, the warmth of the girl’s touch and the child’s soothing voice. Even the thin, cloudy white, streams of smoke drifting out of the glass chimney of each oil lamp looked real. Madeline closed her eyes.

“It’s not real. I’m dreaming,” she whispered to herself. “I can’t be dead.”