Page 18 of Forever My Lass

“Is something wrong with your meal, Madeline?” The quiet words made her jerk her gaze up to meet his.

“I’m not really hungry.”

Madeline frowned as she stared down at her plate again. It wasn’t quite the truth. She just wasn’t sure if she was balking because his watching her made her nervous, or if she feared insulting him by not eating some of the food on her plate. The roasted chicken leg and mashed potatoes were favorites of hers, but the words ‘I do not like green eggs and ham’ rang out clearly in her head when it came to the beets.

“You must eat.” The adamant statement made her roll her eyes at him. A low sound rumbled in his chest that sounded like amused frustration. “Eat, Madeline. I have no wish to see you collapse from hunger.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will happen anytime soon,” she mumbled with self-deprecation as she stared at the mashed potatoes filled with carbs. “I have more than my fair share of pounds to ensure I survive the apocalypse.”

When he didn’t order her to eat again, she lifted her head to meet his gaze. The expression on his features made her heart slam into her chest. Just like this morning, his gaze slid down along the length of her body in a leisurely manner. The slow appraisal made her feel as though he could see every inch of her through the covers. She swallowed hard as his gaze met hers.

“You do yourself a grave disservice, mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha.”

The quiet words were a soft caress against her senses and sent a shiver of excitement down Madeline’s spine. Amusement and something else flared in the depths of his dark-blue eyes. She didn’t have a clue what mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha meant, but she was certain it had to be one of those casual endearments people used like sweetheart or babe.

Coming from any other guy, she would have interpreted the comment as sexual innuendo. While this man’s words and tone of voice held a definite hint of desire, there was an appreciation in his voice, too. The type of appreciation he might have for a painting or sculpture. It made her feel beautiful. Whatever he’d said, he’d made it sound like a sincere compliment, and she was ready to melt.

Madeline swallowed hard as she tried to remember what they’d been discussing. Right, eating. Quickly jerking her gaze away, she decided to eat the food she recognized. She reached for her fork and took a bite of the mashed potatoes. The roasted leg of chicken was next. It had no spices, just a little salt and pepper. A quiet chuckle echoed out of him, and she glanced his way to see a satisfied smile on his face.

“It appears you were hungry, after all.”

“There’s no need to gloat,” she grumbled. She rolled her eyes in aggravation at his self-satisfied expression.

“I’m simply satisfied you did as I asked.”

“Asked? Umm, you didn’t ask,” she said with another eye roll. “You gave me an order, which makes me think you’re someone who likes to get their way all the time.”

“I usually do,” he said off-handedly with a slight shrug. Madeline refrained from making a sarcastic retort, certain it would backfire on her. Instead, she cut a piece of chicken off the bone.

“Tell me where your home is, Madeline.” The sound of her name rolled off his tongue and wrapped itself around her senses in a seductively breathtaking manner. Determined not to fall victim to more vivid fantasies, Madeline took another bite of mashed potatoes. When she’d swallowed the bite, she put her fork down and met his gaze.

“I’m from the States—St. Paul, Minnesota to be exact.”

“States?”

“America. I came to Scotland… on vacation.” A wave of sorrow pounded at her heart as she remembered how her grandmother had arranged for this trip.

“Vacation?” he mused in puzzlement before his expression suddenly changed to one of comprehension. “You’re on holiday.”

“Yes, I spent some time in Edinburgh, then traveled to Aberdeen. I don’t know why, it just seemed to call to me.”

Madeline frowned as a voice in her head whispered she knew exactly why she’d gone to Aberdeen, and why she’d decided to take a cruise along the shoreline. She’d been hoping to see the man from her dreams. The sudden memory of the figure she’d seen on the cliffs from the sailboat during the storm made her muscles tense. What if the man she’d seen was Iain? Was it possible there was some sort of time portal near the baron’s home? With an inward sigh, she dismissed the absurd thought.

“Called to you?” His head tipped slightly to one side as his gaze narrowed with assessment. “Do you have the an dara sealladh?”

“The what?”

“The gift of sight.”

“If I had the gift of sight, I wouldn’t have gotten on that damn sailboat,” she huffed with a healthy dose of sarcastic amusement.

Surprise darkened his features as Iain studied her with an odd expression. She winced. Lovely. She’d forgotten women of this time period didn’t talk like sailors. From his expression, he probably wasn’t even used to hearing one of the tamer words in her salty vocabulary coming out of a woman’s mouth. He arched an eyebrow in obvious disapproval, and she cringed. Okay, that sealed it. She’d have to watch her mouth.

“But you did board the ship.” His piercing blue gaze was riveted on her face.

“Yes, but not…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” he murmured as he continued to study her. “You just said you boarded the Phoenix Rising. Did you, or didn’t you?”