Her mouth fell open. “I think what I’m not going to like is how much my hand is going to hurt after I punch you. And stop looking for blades in my hands,” she snapped. “I left mine in my house, but I can certainly go get it if necessary.”
He decided the present time was likely not the proper time to point out to her that she was discussing stabbing him with a dirk as easily as she might discuss slapping his face. Truly, their lives were very strange.
She looked at him in shock. “I can’t believe you called him.”
“I didn’t call him,” Nathaniel said slowly. “He called me while you ran home for pen and sketch pad. I think he doesn’t quite know how to apologize to you, so I agreed to be the messenger. Never hurts to butter up the in-laws.”
“Still not a romantic proposal in sight, is there?”
He smiled and laced his fingers with hers. “Your mother apparently told your father that if he didn’t mend fences with you, she was going to leave him, but only after she’d rolled his Bugatti off the end of the pier. She already had burly lads retained for the job.”
She let out her breath slowly. “My family has an interesting relationship with the lake.”
He smiled. “So I hear. And just so you know, after I buttered your father up, we had a substantially less lovely chat.”
“Did you chew him up and spit him out?”
“Thoroughly.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “Then what?”
“He admitted that he’d been astonished to find outSheldon’s true character, but even more surprised to receive a bit of intelligence from an unnamed source.”
“Intelligence?” she asked skeptically.
“Notes from Alexander Smith, of course. I thought your father might appreciate them. Let’s just say that I don’t think Sheldon will be bothering with you again.”
She looked at him in surprise. “My father is coming to my rescue?”
“He is.”
“And you inspired him to.”
“I only talked to him on the phone, Emma,” he said carefully. “He came to that decision all on his own.”
“Jamie might have helped.”
“That’s a possibility as well.” He shifted. It was less uncomfortably done than he’d dared hope, which he supposed was progress.
Her smile faded. “I want to be done with this.”
He looked at her for a moment or two in silence, then reached for his phone and handed it to her. “Check the alarm.”
She turned his phone on, entered his password whilst ignoring his feigned protest, then looked at the timer he certainly hadn’t set for himself. He actually wouldn’t have been surprised to learn Patrick MacLeod had done so simply to annoy him.
Emma met his gaze. “1387.”
“Feel anything?”
She paused, then shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean anything, I don’t think. What about you?”
“I think we could try an experiment,” he offered. “We could sit here for the evening, watch a little telly, then open my door and see what’s there. If we see medieval clansmen, we’ll just shut the door right back up. Or we could just lock the windows, bolt the door, and not venture out for a few days.”
“I could cook,” she offered.
“Or you could watch me cook.”
She shot him a disgusted look, but moved closer to him. “I’m not that bad,” she muttered.
