“Jamie isDEAD!” she all but screamed, pausing to whirl back to face him. “Why cannae ye stop saying his name?!”
She swiped at her eyes, the world foggy, her eyesight narrowing. She turned and ran for the door, anything to escapehim.
She only made it to the central staircase.
“Lass. Stop.” His hand snagged her elbow, turning her around.
She yanked free of his hold, staggering backward.
“I won’t speak of it,” she gasped. “I refuse to remember!”
“Your life depends on ye remembering!”
“It’smylife. Mine!” She stabbed a finger at her chest. “It ismychoice to attempt to remember or take my chances with Cuthie. It doesn’t affect ye at all. In fact, I absolve ye of any lingering sense of duty toward me—”
“It doesnae affect me?!” His eyes flared wide, and he pressed a palm to his chest. “Of course, it affects me! I care about ye!”
That was it. The very end of her tether.
Every last ounce of her numbness shattered, disintegrating and taking her ladylike manners with it.
“Care about me?! Howdareye mock me!”
“Pardon?” He rocked back.
“I was pregnant!” She hurled her deepest shame at him. “I was aboard that ship, and I was pregnant!”
He blanched, color leaching from his skin.
An expression skittered across his face.
Something like regret . . . or pain.
He didnot, however, look surprised.
“Ye knew?” she hissed. “Ye knew I was increasing?!”
He floundered, as if searching for some platitude to justify himself.
Eilidh would have none of it.
“Ye knew,” she repeated, pointing at him. “I may have forgotten much, butwhoI am as a person has not changed. I know I would not willingly lie with a man who was not my husband. So ye say ye care, but where were ye aboard that ship? Where were ye when I was ill-used?!”
“Jami—Miss Fyffe . . . ye werenae ill-used. We kept ye saf—”
“You lie!” she spat.
He raked a hand down his face, his expression so . . . weary.
“What happened tae the babe, lass?” he asked.
“Gone. The baby is gone.” Words sliced her throat as they forced their way out. “I was already bleeding when the islanders fished me out of the water and delivered me to Reverend Gillespie. I bled and bled.”
“Ah, lass . . .” His hand reached out, as if to touch her again.
She shrank back, choosing to hurl words at his head instead. “My body rejected the babe, thank goodness—”
“Thankgoodness?!” Master MacTavish rasped.
