Page 96 of Obsessed Heir

I stretch out, ensuring she’s safe from getting hit, and crouch next to her. She’s crying quietly into the handkerchief, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m f-f-f-fine,” she insists, despite the tears.

I straighten, shaking my head, knowing that even now, she’d never admit to weakness.

Taking hold of the chair, I swing us toward the elevator. A knot has formed in my stomach before we’re halfway down. “It’s okay, Mom. Everything will be all right.”

Which only makes her cry harder, and me want to kick myself.

“No.” She shakes her head. “No doctor.”

“You’re lightheaded and?—”

“Please.”

The hurt in her eyes is all it takes to make me reconsider. I’m out of my element when trying to offer comfort. Though I know enough to avoid upsetting her any more than what I already have.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, giving up all hope of keeping this situation under control.

Her breath hitches softly. “T-talk.” She sniffs, bringing the handkerchief to dab at her cheeks. “Can we go somewhere private?”

“Should we go back upstairs?” I ask cautiously.

Which makes her sad again, and makes me want to kick myself a second time.

“No,” she says.

“I think I know a place.” I run a finger along the delicate line of her jaw, which finally elicits a watery smile.

Straightening, I pull my phone out and shoot off a message to James. Thinking better of it, I add a second request.

Take a sandwich, chips, and an apple to Abigail’s room.

Because she will not get her way. Abigail shouldn’t have missed lunch. Then again, she shouldn’t have gotten the shock she did.

Which wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been so heavy-handed.

Right away, sir.

I need to deal with one thing at a time. And Abigail, being so much like my mother, will hold herself together, despite how distraught she is. She would likely send me off to tend to my mother anyway.

I stash my phone in my pocket as the door slides open. Grasping the handles, I maneuver out, taking us aft, through the ship then on to an upper deck.

Shoving the heavy oak-paneled door with my shoulder, I lead us into a secluded bar set up away from prying eyes and unwanted interruptions. The dark paneling, plush seating areas, and low music are perfect for private conversations.

I wheel Mother over to a quiet alcove, arranging the chair at the table so she can enjoy the view through the tall windowsoverlooking the deck. There are two brandy snifters waiting for us.

“Drink this.” I slide a snifter across the polished wood to set it in front of her. “It should help settle your nerves.”

I settle into the chair across from her as she folds the handkerchief and places it on her lap.

She wraps her delicate fingers around the bowl, cradling it in her hand. Bringing the glass to her lips, she inhales the aroma, and her features soften. It isn’t until she’s taken her first measured sip of the rich amber liquid that I join her.

“Mr. McClelland,” the bartender greets us with a polite dip of his head, “Ma’am.” He sets down two heaping crystal sundaes for us, alongside a pair of long-handled spoons, and a stack of napkins.

“Oh, how wonderful.” Mom’s face lights up, bringing a spot of color on her cheeks. “Thank you so much, young man.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gives her a cheerful smile before turning to me. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

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