"Doona mock me, woman. Angus is my grandfather."
"Woman?"
He scowled at her. "I noticed. A man would have to be crazy no' to. And I'm no' crazy."
She gave him a dubious look. "You think your own family is out to get you."
Bugger. He was sounding paranoid. But it was too much of a coincidence that Angus and Emma had wanted him to see a psychologist, and then one magically appeared. "Ye swear Angus dinna send ye here?"
"I swear. I told you, I work for the FBI. I specialize in criminal psychology, so you're of no interest to me." She gave him a wry look. "Unless you're a criminal."
He cocked a brow at her. "Did Sean Whelan send you?"
"I don't know him."
"He works for the CIA."
"So the CIA is out to get you, too?"
He gritted his teeth. "I'm no' paranoid!"
"Maybe you should check the lemon trees," she whispered, pointing in their direction. "They could be bugged."
"Woman - " He paused when her brown eyes flashed. Lord Almighty, she was beautiful. "Maybe I should strip you to check for bugs."
Her cheeks turned a rosy pink. "Maybe you should leave."
He swallowed hard. What the hell was he doing? "I-I apologize. I wouldna strip you." Tonight.
She refused to look at him and motioned to the stairs.
He trudged toward them. What a fool he was. Accusing her of working for Angus, insulting her.
The stairwell loomed before him, dark and ominous. He hesitated, suddenly feeling like the stairs descended into the pits of hell itself. Could he return to a life filled with nothing but rage and revenge?
No laughter. No flirtation. No Olivia.
His heart sank with a heavy sense of loss. "I'm truly sorry, lass. I dinna mean to insult you."
He glanced at her and noted the tears in her eyes.
"Doona be sad. 'Twas my fault for reacting so badly to yer job. I'm sure ye're a verra fine psychologist. I just doona want to talk about certain...things. I see no point in opening old wounds."
She sighed. "I understand. But it doesn't...change anything. You might as well go."
She looked so defeated, and he had no idea why. He hated to see her this way. "Why are ye so sad?"
She rubbed her brow as if her head hurt. "Things never work out for me. They all go."
"Who?"
"Men. Dates. I get my hopes up, then they learn the truth about me and hightail it away as fast as they can."
He studied her curiously. He'd thought he was the one with the dark secret. He inhaled deeply of her scent. Not a shape-shifter. Deliciously sweet as only a mortal could be. Blood Type A negative. "Ye're verra clever and beautiful. I canna imagine why any man would leave you."
"That's kind of you to say, but..." She took a deep breath and released it with a whoosh. "I'm an empath. I can sense people's feelings. I even see them in color if the emotions are really strong."
He winced. "Ye know what I'm feeling?" He'd been fighting a major case of lust all evening.
"It gets even worse," she continued. "I can tell when people are lying, like a human lie detector. Comes in real handy in my line of work, but it's the pits for personal relationships. The minute a guy lies to me, I tell him to hit the road."
Just like she was doing to him. Robby thought back over their conversation. He might have hedged a few times, but he'd actually told her more about himself than he'd originally intended. She'd been so easy to talk to. "I dinna lie to you, lass."
She bit her lip, frowning.
"Since I'm no' a liar, ye must want me to leave because ye think I'm crazy? I'm no' crazy. Yer lie detecting skills should tell you I'm speaking the truth."
She shifted her weight. "I don't think you're crazy. You have some baggage, obviously, that you're dealing with, but we all do."
"Then...we should be all right."
She gave him an incredulous look. "Doesn't my gift disturb you? Guys are usually out the door right after I tell them. Some would be halfway to another island by now."
He shrugged one shoulder. "'Tis an odd ability, I grant ye that, but I-I'm no' in a position to cast stones for being different."
She still looked stunned. "You're okay with it?"
"Aye. I'd like to see you again."
"I-I can't. I'm sorry."
It hurt more than he expected. Dammit, why would she reject him? She didn't know he was undead. She didn't think he was crazy. He'd been honest, so she couldn't have caught him in a lie. But if he kept seeing her, wouldn't he have to lie at some point? And then she would know.
Unless...A niggling suspicion crept into his thoughts. "What am I feeling now?"
Her eyes widened. "I would say you're...annoyed."
Not even close. His heart was aching at the thought of never seeing her again. He stepped toward her. "Ye're no' sensing me, are ye?"
Her face paled. "I'd rather not talk about - "
"Since ye value honesty so much, ye should tell me the truth."
She looked away with a grimace. "Okay. I can't sense you at all. And I don't know why. It's never happened to me before."
Obviously, she'd never met the Undead before. "Ye canna tell if I'm lying?"
"No." Her shoulders drooped. "It's terrible. I've never felt so...blind."
"Lass, 'tis no' that bad. We're in the same boat. I canna tell if ye're lying either."
She snorted. "You knew the four uncles was a lie."
He smiled. "I dinna hold it against you. I thought it was understandable and...adorable."
Her mouth fell open, and it struck him like an invitation. Lord Almighty, he wanted to kiss her. He took another step toward her.
She stepped back, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. "I'm sorry, but I can't get involved with someone I can't read."
A spurt of anger shot through him. He was accepting her even though she was a therapist. Why the hell wouldn't she accept him? "Lass, we were having a grand time, joking and laughing. Ye doona need special abilities to recognize how happy we were."
Her eyes glimmered with tears. "I enjoyed it, too. But I can't have a relationship with someone I can't trust."
Of all the complaints to lodge against him, this had to be the absolute worst. "Ye - ye think I canna be trusted?" His voice rose to a shout.
Her eyes widened. She moved closer to the grape arbor.
"Bloody hell." He paced away, fighting to control his anger, but it was obvious that he was pissed. She grabbed hold of the cricket bat.
"Lass, I willna hurt you." Damn it to hell. First he'd insulted her, and now he was frightening her. There was no help for it. He would have to explain. Otherwise she would never understand. "I dinna want to tell you this, but...I was in battle one night with the enemy. And I was captured."
She drew in a quick breath.
He looked away, ashamed to admit he'd been a victim. "They wanted information about my comrades. When I refused to talk, they...tortured me. For two nights."
The bat she was holding fell onto the tile floor with a clatter.
He turned to her. "I told them nothing. I wouldna betray my friends. They burned me, cut me, broke my fingers, shattered my feet - "
She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, but a strangled whimper escaped.
He stepped toward her. "I dinna betray my friends. I prayed for death so I wouldna betray them."
"I'm so sorry," she breathed.
"I doona want yer pity, lass."
"But I am sorry."
"Bloody hell, I dinna want to tell you." He paced away. "Now ye'll look at me like some poor weakling who was fool enough to get captured - "
"No." She stepped toward him. "Don't you dare blame yourself. It wasn't your fault."
He groaned. There she went with the therapy. "Olivia, I only told you so ye'd understand how much I value loyalty. I would rather die than betray my friends and family. Ye'd be hard pressed to find any man in the world as trustworthy as I."
Her mouth curled up. "Or as modest."
He smiled. "There, ye see. Ye read me quite well, so I doona think ye need yer special powers with me."
She hooked a curly tendril behind an ear. "Maybe. I don't know. This is so...strange."
"Ye can trust me, lass. May I see you tomorrow night?"