“Is this like inviting me up to see your etchings?”
“Would you come if that were the case?”
She laughed a little in a way that he wasn’t quite sure how to take and seemed to think that was answer enough. He helped her clear the table, then saw to her dishes quickly whilst she went into the loo and changed into something that looked quite a bit less like nightclothes.
“Thank you,” she said. “Cooking and cleaning up? I’m notsure those girls down in the village know what they’re missing.”
He smiled. “Don’t noise it about or I’ll never know a moment’s peace.”
“Probably not.” She considered, then looked at him. “Any suggestions on the fire?”
“Use the wood I brought in,” he advised, “and don’t be shy with those starters in the crock by the sink. One ought to do it—just tuck it under the wood in the morning, then light it if it won’t catch all on its own.” He shrugged. “I’ll leave you my number. Ring me if you need aid.”
“That’s very nice of you,” she said slowly.
“I’m just hoping for more of His Lordship’s very fine preserves. Don’t eat them all before I can get back this way, aye?”
She pointed to her door. “Out.”
He smiled and went to hold the door open for her. He waited for her to lock up, then started off with her up the path toward his house and the loch. Not many people used it, which he supposed pleased him well enough. As he’d said, he liked his privacy. He also was happy to enjoy the rain and the addition of good company on his journey.
They reached his house sooner than he wanted, but there was nothing to be done about it. He wasn’t sure she’d had enough time to forget what she no doubt thought she had seen, but he wasn’t sure he could solve that at the moment, either.
“Want to come in?” he asked as they stood at his door, partly because he was in the Highlands and he wasn’t about to let her stand outside in the rain and partly because he found himself surprisingly unwilling to let her simply walk off.
“Oh, I’m fine here,” she said, hovering at his threshold. “I’m sure you have things to be doing.”
Catching up on one of my liveswould have been the first thing out of his mouth, but he didn’t suppose that was all that useful. He didn’t press her, but rather simply nodded and went to fetch her phone off the table. It began to ring before he reached it, which surprised him. The bloody thing hadn’t made a peep before.
He picked it up, then carried it back to the door. “Yours?”
“Yes.”
“It looks like someone is ringing you,” he said, handing it over.
She frowned as she took it. “That’s odd. I got a new number before I left the States and haven’t given it out.”
He didn’t want to point out that whoever had stalked her all the way to the village might very well be capable of finding her phone number, mostly because, again, he wasn’t supposed to know anything about her situation.
“I think it might be a local number,” she said. She held it out to him. “Recognize this?”
He saw all the numbers, truly, but the only ones that had any meaning for him were the last four.
1387.
He had spent all the years when he might have been considered an adult masking his reactions, which was the only reason he didn’t shove her bodily off his front stoop. He took a deep breath.
“I’ve just remembered an appointment,” he said. He didn’t like the edge to his tone, but there was nothing to be done about it. If he didn’t get her very far away from him immediately... well, the truth was, he had no idea what might happen to her. The last thing he wanted was to drag someone else into his madness.
“Sure,” she said slowly. She smiled politely. “Thank you—”
“I have to hurry.”
She lifted her eyebrows briefly, and he didn’t blame her a damned bit for it. He was being intolerably rude, but he had no choice. He practically shoved her off his deck and escorted her off his property.
“Another time,” he suggested.
“Maybe,” she said. “Thanks for my phone.”
