Page 117 of The Highlander Who Protected Me

When he splashed another measure into the glass, she had to swallow a protest. The poor man was in pain and didn’t need a scold. Likely, he’d haul himself off the bed and toss her from the room, injury or no. Ainsley sensed that today’s unfortunate events had finally breached his self-control, bringing his impressive willpower crashing down. Her husband was dangerously on edge.

Though she could never be afraid of him, triggering another verbal outburst would not benefit either his health or their marriage.

“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” he said, tossing back his drink.

She glanced at a small medicinal bottle next to the liniment. “Are those laudanum drops? Might they not be more effective for the pain?”

“Undoubtedly, but they also make my head feel like wet wool.”

“Whisky obviously doesn’t have the same effect.”

The only time she’d ever drunk too much whisky was the night before she’d asked Royal to marry her. She’d awakened the next morning with an aching head and a stomach as sour as an old lemon. It had taken three cups of strong coffee before she’d been able to think again.

“Not like the drops,” he said. “If you’d ever taken them, you’d know exactly what I mean.”

“I have taken them.”

A quick frown of concern replaced his surly expression. “Why?”

Her skin crawled at the thought of even mentioning that awful time. But she’d just told him she wanted nothing but honesty from him. Could she offer him anything less in return?

“After Cringlewood assaulted me, I had trouble sleeping. I thought it would help.”

He sucked in a breath. Several seconds elapsed before he replied. “Did it?”

“I think a brain that feels like wet wool is a very apt description.”

True, the drops had made her sleep, but they’d also given her nightmares. And while awake, she’d felt apart from herself in a dreadful, detached sort of way.

“I felt like I couldn’t think, or make any decisions,” she added. “And I needed to think.”

Royal reached over and briefly squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

She shrugged. “But they’re always lurking, aren’t they? I’m not sure it makes sense to pretend otherwise.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have snapped—”

“Oh, do stop apologizing,” she said, echoing his words from earlier in the day. “I’m the one who’s at fault here. My idiotic tantrum compelled you to come dashing to my rescue.”

He scratched his bristled chin. “It wasn’t much of a rescue.”

She had to repress a smile. “Sadly true. I was forced to rescueyou, which must have been quite the blow to your masculine ego.”

He narrowed his eyes in warning.

Consistent with her fatal tendency to ignore warnings, Ainsley flashed him a little smirk. “Especially with you being a war hero and whatnot. You have a reputation to uphold.”

His laugh was grudging. “Especially the whatnot.”

“I don’t see why men should get to do all the rescuing, anyway. It’s not fair, when you think about it.”

“Nonsense. It’s our job to rescue children, puppies, and damsels in distress, especially from fire-breathing dragons or marauding pirates. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”

“I must have missed that lesson.” She propped her hands on her hips. “But do I really look like a damsel in distress?”

“At the moment, you look rather like a hectoring wife.”

“And you, sir, look like a bad-tempered husband.”

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