Page 61 of Forever My Lass

“If you think I’ll just leave without knowing Ainslie’s safe, you’re—”

“My daughter is nae longer your responsibility, Madeline. But if as her note says, she’s waiting tae see ye leave, then leave ye will.” There was something in his voice that made her suck in a sharp breath.

“You blame me for Ainslie running away.”

“I dinnae say that,” he growled before his expression softened slightly. “But if ye want tae help me find the lass, then do what she is waiting for. Let her see ye leaving. We will find her then.”

Suddenly biting back tears, Madeline closed her eyes and turned away from him as guilt rushed through her. Iain didn’t have to say she was responsible for Ainslie’s disappearance. It was the truth, she’d done nothing to distance herself from the girls in the past two weeks.

Instead, she’d tried to impress the memory of Ainslie’s and Grace’s voices, their laughter, and their smiles in her head and heart. Worse, she’d allowed her love for them to show several times. It was no wonder they’d reacted the way they had last night. Iain’s hand cupping her chin made her eyes flutter open as he forced her to look at him.

“It’s nae your fault, Madeline. The lassies love ye, and I…” Iain stumbled slightly over his words before he continued. “I understand now why ye were worried about how your leaving Muchalls Hall would affect them.”

She didn’t answer him, and as a tear slid down her cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. There was a tenderness in his touch that made her throat close up with emotion, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

With the speed of a general acting on new information, Iain had sent Angus and Grace out to search for the girl while he’d ridden Taren out onto the moors. Madeline had wanted to search for the child too, but Iain had insisted she remain at the manor and leave as she’d planned. For the past hour as she’d paced the floor of the salon, Madeline had tried to convince herself Iain, Grace, or the groundskeeper would find Ainslie.

Her fear had escalated when all three of them had returned to the manor a few minutes ago without the girl. Now, as Iain helped her up onto the buckboard’s seat, Madeline was trembling with apprehension. Iain’s hand squeezed hers tightly, and she gasped as she looked down at him.

“The lass will follow ye, mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha. I dinnae doubt that.”

Despite his calm reassurance, Madeline saw a deep concern in his blue eyes. One that only strengthened her own fear. Cecil climbed up beside her and took up the reins of the plow horse hitched to the wagon. With a gentle slap of the leather against the animal’s hindquarters, the vehicle rolled forward, and Madeline’s fingers slipped slowly from Iain’s.

As Cecil drove the wagon down the driveway to the main road, Madeline’s gaze scoured every inch of the landscape hoping to see some movement that might reveal Ainslie on Macklin’s back. When they reached the main road, the child had still not appeared. With each creak of the wagon’s movement, Madeline’s fear grew. They’d gone almost three miles when she saw Macklin.

The animal was standing on the edge of a small copse of trees and shrubbery, and Madeline’s heart leapt with relief. Sharply ordering Cecil to stop, she quickly descended from the wagon and ran toward the horse. There was no sign of Ainslie, and Madeline’s heart sank.

If she wasn’t with Macklin, where was she? The sound of thundering hoofbeats echoed through the air, and she whirled around to see Iain riding his horse toward her. As the gelding slid to a halt, Iain was already dismounting. The moment he landed on the ground he was running toward her.

“Did ye see her?” he asked fiercely as he ran past her to pick up the reins dangling from Macklin’s bridle. Iain didn’t look at her, studying the leather straps he pulled through his fingers.

“No,” she said with a rising panic. “Something’s wrong, Iain. I can feel it.”

“Aye.”

The brusque response was harsh with worry, and he ducked under Macklin’s head to walk toward the small clump of trees and underbrush. His head bent, he studied the ground as if looking for something. When he lifted his head, he looked not just worried, but confused.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

“Macklin appears tae have arrived here on his own. His hoofprints dinnae indicate Ainslie was riding him, and there’s nae sign of her footprints.”

“But if she’s not here… dear God, do you think she was thrown from the horse? She’s an excellent rider, but what if something startle Macklin and she lost her seat?”

“It’s possible. I’m going tae follow Macklin’s trail back tae the manor.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Nae, I need ye tae ride Macklin back tae Muchalls Hall—”

“Let Cecil do it.”

“The mon’s not ridden an animal since he fell off Macklin and broke his arm two years ago, and he’s nae longer a young lad.”

“You know you’re going to need me when you find Ainslie. She’s furious with you. If she’s not hurt, she might run away from you,” Madeline protested vehemently. Iain quickly strode forward and wrapped his hands around her upper arms to give her a hard shake.

“Ye must do this mo leannan. I need ye tae tell Angus what’s happened. There are places ye dinnae know to look for her, he does. The mon knows the moors better than anyone, even me.”

With a sharp tug, he pulled her toward Macklin. As they reached the animal, Iain pulled what she now knew was a sgian dubh from the sheath at the top of his knee-high stocking. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he used the knife to slice her dress open at the side seam almost to her thigh, then forced her to turn around to do the same on her left side.