Page 24 of Forever My Lass

“If I told you that, you’d think I’m crazy, which I’m not. And I’m definitely not about to say something that will get me locked up.” Despite the mutinous tone in her voice, fear was layered beneath it.

“Lock ye up?”

This time he turned around and saw her pacing the floor behind her chair as if she were trying to reach a decision. His jaw tightened. Had he been correct about her having escaped a hospital?

“Were ye a patient in a hospital?”

“As in a mental hospital? Do I act like someone who’s crazy?” Madeline uttered a small sound of laughter, which was clearly not one of amusement, then waved her hand as she began pacing the floor again. “Don’t answer that. But to answer your question, no. I’ve never been in a psych ward before.”

The word she used was unfamiliar, but it seemed reasonable to assume she was referring to an institution for the mentally insane. Iain said nothing. He simply studied her as she continued to move restlessly back and forth until she abruptly stopped and turned to face him.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Madeline closed her eyes when he didn’t reply, and her expression was that of someone debating a weighty matter. When she looked at him again, she met his gaze steadily, while straightening her back to stand stiff and defiant in front of him.

“If you want me to, I’ll swear to it on a bible, but I am telling you the truth. I have never been a patient in a mental hospital, and I have never been in trouble with the law.”

The emphatic denial rang out in the study with a quiet strength of truth that was accentuated by the proud, upward tilt of her chin. She’d even preempted him from asking about any criminal activities. When she didn’t flinch beneath his gaze, Iain nodded his head. His silent acknowledgement that he believed her made Madeline sag slightly in obvious relief.

Iain clenched his jaw as another sharp jab of pain slashed at his temple. Despite believing she’d never been committed or broken any laws, it still didn’t solve the question of how she’d come to be in the water. Did it really matter? When she left Muchalls Hall, she would no longer be his problem. Clasping his hands behind his back, he cleared his throat.

“We should contact your family in America. I’m certain they’ll be relieved tae hear you’re safe and well.”

Madeline paled as anguish flitted across her face. With an abrupt jerk of her head, she rejected his suggestion. Her gaze met his for a brief moment, before she bent her head to stare at her hands clasped tightly together. Her knuckles were white from the strength of her fingers intertwined in a fierce grasp.

“There’s no one there.”

“Another lie?” The throbbing in his temple made his question sharp and critical. Madeline’s head jerked up as if he’d slapped her.

“My grandmother was the only family I had left, and she died less than three months ago.” The grief in her voice echoed with unshed tears and remorse crashed through him. Iain closed his eyes. He was a heartless bastard.

“Forgive me. Ye have my condolences.” His apology was met with a small roll of her shoulders as she looked down at her hands again.

“You didn’t know.”

“And there’s no one ye can call upon for help? A father? Uncle? Cousin?”

The only answer she gave was a shake of her head. What the devil was he supposed to do with the woman? Fire and ice streaked its way from the back of his head to the front. It was an agonizing bolt of pain, and Iain bit back a groan as he massaged the side of his head with his fingertips. It failed to ease the throbbing that was continuing to grow and intensify.

“I don’t suppose you found any money in the trunk?” Her question broke the silence, and he shook his head. It was a monumental mistake, and Iain barely managed not to release a shout of pain.

“No. Did you expect there to be?”

He hadn’t meant to make his reply so harsh, and the sharp, caustic words made her draw in a quick breath. Iain’s hand dropped to his side as massaging his temple failed to produce any relief, and he lifted his head. Madeline’s full mouth was a thin line of anger, and she eyed him with icy contempt.

“Look, all I did was pay for a day trip sailing down the Scottish coast, and I got a hell of a lot more than I bargained for.” Her anger was almost tangible, but so was her fear. “I didn’t ask to be here, and if I’d known I was going to be interrogated by an irritating, half-witted jackass of a Scotsman, I would have booked a different trip.”

Iain stiffened at her insult and took an angry step forward. The thunderbolt slamming into the back of his eye told him he’d made a serious mistake. The intense pain made his stomach churn, as nausea threatened to compete with the pain in his head. A soft gasp filtered its way through his haze of pain, and a second later, she was at his side. Gently, she touched his arm.

“You’re not well.”

Somewhere in the part of his head that wasn’t hurting, he realized he didn’t like appearing weak in front of her. His actions rough and jerky, Iain tugged his arm out of her grasp. The action cost him dearly. With a low groan, he staggered to one side. He heard her mutter something before her hand gripped his arm firmly and pulled him toward the fireside chair. Iain stumbled forward and fell into the leather cushioned seat.

Chapter 7

“I should have added pig-headed to that insult,” she said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. Madeline frowned as she studied the pallor of his rugged features. His eyes were closed, and his lips were a thin, hard line that emphasized the amount of pain he was in.

“It’s simply a headache. I’m accustomed tae them. It will go away,” he said hoarsely.

“I’d say it’s more than a minor headache. It’s so dark in here, I’m guessing the light hurts your eyes,” she said softly to avoid exacerbating his pain. “What do you take for it?”