“If ye weep on me, Nat, I’ll stick ye.”
Nathaniel smiled, then watched the man who had saved his neck too many times to count walk off and melt into the forest. He took a deep breath, then looked at his uncle. John had introduced himself to Emma, advised her to run away from his nephew as quickly as possible, then looked at Ceana and shook his head. He looked at Nathaniel and said absolutely nothing.
Nathaniel lifted his eyebrows briefly, then introduced his mother to her future brother-in-law.
“Ceana, this is John MacLeod. He’s the laird’s priest.”
Ceana bobbed a curtsey, which Nathaniel imagined had been the first thing in years to almost bring his uncle to his knees. John cursed a bit in an extremely non-priest-like fashion, then blew out his breath.
“I see. Well, perhaps it’s a good thing I’m where I am.”
“No point in asking you one last time if you’ll come with me?” Nathaniel asked.
John shook his head. “Don’t want to, lad. I’ve almost talked Grudach into marrying me.”
“You’re old enough to be her father,” Nathaniel wheezed.
“It’s a May-December kind of thing,” John said with a shrug. “Besides, Malcolm is begging me to take her. Since Angus is wed and his wife is already pregnant, the line will continue. Grudach can do as she pleases. And she likes my little vicarage there near the hall.”
Nathaniel wondered if he could blame the feeling of faintness over that particular thought on something other than the mental picture of his uncle being married to a girl half his age. Stranger things had happened, he supposed.
“Besides, I’m very well preserved,” John said. “They think I have supernatural powers.”
Nathaniel looked at his uncle and realized the man was staring at him with a clarity that belied his reputation for being endlessly drunk. “I’ll just bet they do.” He glanced at his mother, then at Emma. “Any words of advice for him? Or for Ceana?”
“She’ll want to go see the MacLeod witch,” Emma said very quietly. “I don’t know exactly when, but I imagine it’s soon.”
“I’ll see that she is free to do as she likes,” John said. “Fate balances everything out in the end, you know. One soul dropped here, another dropped there.” He smiled. “Balance.”
“Well, wouldn’t want to clutter up the current day with one too many,” Nathaniel said slowly. He looked at his uncle. “Are you as surprised as I am?”
“Every bit,” John said.
“Grandfather would soil himself.”
John grinned. “Which makes it all the better, doesn’t it? That my father should be so involved in things that would terrify him? I would love even a single day with him here.”
“It wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Nay, but thinking about this will be.” John rattled off three account numbers along with passwords, then looked at Nathaniel. “Get all that?”
“Absolutely.” Nathaniel looked at Emma. “You?”
“Yes.”
John smiled. “Swiss, of course. It’s all siphoned off the main trust, which has likely escaped the notice of anyone who cares. Go drain them, laddie, and do something good with the money. I’m not going to need it. I’m assuming the old miser had me declared dead.”
“Two years ago.”
“What about Gerald? Did he demand my inheritance?”
Nathaniel spared a moment to wish he’d talked to his uncle about that sooner. “He’s fighting Grandfather, but I can’t bring the exact details to mind at the moment.”
“He’s my son,” John said with a sigh, “but he’s not all that clever.”
“He’s also here,” Nathaniel said, because he had no choice. “I don’t think he should stay, but I’m not in any condition to do anything about it at the moment.”
John looked at him seriously. “He’s responsible for your being where you were?”
