“MyformerSheldon.”
Patrick smiled. “Of course. What did Adara say he’d wanted? I’m assuming she was manning the front desk.”
She felt a little queasy. “The village is that small?”
“It is,” he agreed, “and yet still there are places where a body might have, shall we say, a bit of anonymity.”
She could only hope. “She said that someone had called, wanting to know when I’d checked in and how long I was staying. Apparently she’d tried to stall him, but he was very aggressive. He told her he was my fiancé and I’d forgotten to give him money for our wedding before I’d left, so he needed to get in touch with me right away.”
“Clever,” Patrick said with a sigh. “And, again, you hadn’t told him anything about your plans.”
“I haven’t talked to him in months. I can’t imagine how he knows I’m even in Scotland, never mind that I was there at the inn.” She sipped her coffee to give herself time to think for a moment or two. “The only people who know are my parents, but I made them promise to keep their mouths shut.”
“Did they fancy him?”
“You could say that.”
He smiled. “Family can be... opinionated.”
“I’m suspecting you would know.”
“My older brother has a hard time believing I can drag myself from one end of the day to the other without his aid,” Patrick said dryly. “My fists have no trouble telling him when I’ve had enough, but I don’t imagine you can sort things that way.”
“That and poisoning Sheldon’s bourbon aren’t options,” she agreed. “So here I am, left with the only option being to run.”
“It has its place,” he said, “and I’ve done it often enough myself in the past.” He considered. “I think if you’ve a mind to allow the trail to stop at the inn, I can help you. Your hire car could be returned and you can stay at the cottage. We have a little runabout you can also use as long as you like.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said without hesitation. “Renting your cottage—”
“Rent?” he echoed with a smile. “Nay, lass, you’re working there for the winter, didn’t you know? Caretaking and all that. You’ll surely need a car. I’m doing this strictly for my benefit, of course. I don’t want to find my lane cluttered up with your rubbish ex-boyfriends.”
She couldn’t even bring herself to smile. “Lord Patrick—”
“Patrick,” he corrected, “and you should know I’m accustomed to always getting my way. I can’t get to Inverness for another pair of days—I’m assuming that’s where you hired your wee runabout—but we’ll go then, if that suits. I’ll see you out to the cottage now, then I’ll go have a word with Adara and throw the Southertons off the scent. I can slander a Yank barrister as well as the next lad.”
“Hey, careful,” Madelyn said, walking back into the kitchen. “Mind your manners.”
“National pride,” Patrick said archly.
“Oh, I know all about your national pride,” Madelyn said sweetly. “It’s why I never want to go see sights with you, remember?”
Emma watched them as they discussed briefly the difficulties of an American trying to see English sights with a Scottish husband and had to admit that she envied them their obvious happiness. She had no idea how long they’d beenmarried, but it looked as if it had been a blissful union for decades.
Time was a funny thing.
“Emma, you must still be exhausted,” Madelyn said, putting her hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “I imagine Patrick can let you follow him there, then show you how to start the fire. Just call me in the morning if you have trouble. Those old stoves can be tricky.” She smiled. “It took me a bit not to feel like I was about to burn the house down, but I’m sure you won’t have that problem.”
Emma could only hope. She couldn’t believe she was accepting help from almost perfect strangers, but at least for the night, she couldn’t see any other alternative.
She thanked Sunny and Madelyn for a lovely evening, then followed Patrick outside to her waiting car. She didn’t remember as much of the drive to the cottage as she should have, and she definitely struggled to memorize directions for starting the stove up the next morning, but she didn’t think anyone would blame her.
An hour later, she was snug and warm in a cottage that she was certain no one would simply discover on a whim. Sheldon would have no idea where she was, neither would her parents. For all she knew, not even that privacy-lover Nathaniel MacLeod would run into her unless she put herself in his path.
She considered the small bedroom, then settled for a couch that found itself fairly close to the stove. She pulled the blanket up to her ears, snuggled down, and felt safe for the first time in longer than she wanted to think about.
No wonder that reclusive Nathaniel MacLeod hid in the woods.
She thought she might understand.
