She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t have a coat.” She took a deep breath. “Anymore.”
He shrugged out of his jacket and walked around the pile to drape it around her. “We’ll sort that right away. Go fetch your keys, lass.”
She nodded, because she figured that was probably a good thing to do. It made her feel normal. She watched Nathaniel eventually come inside her kitchen, put her stove to bed, then wash his hands. He looked at her.
“Ready?”
She nodded, wishing she didn’t feel so absolutely fractured.
He walked outside with her. She realized the pile was gone, but didn’t bother to ask him where he’d put it. On the compost heap, probably.
She didn’t protest when he tucked her into his car. It was, after all, what he did. That rescuing thing. She wanted to burst into loud, messy tears, but she forced herself to cling to the idea that maybe she had just had a very bad dream. A terrible, awful, extremely vivid nightmare that had somehow carried on into her waking life.
“Could we go somewhere besides the village?” she asked. Well, she croaked it, actually, but there was no point in trying to justify how she sounded. She was a woman on the verge of losing it.
He nodded. “We can drive up north. We’ll at least find something to eat there.”
“I should have taken you up on Harrods while I had the chance.”
“There’s time.”
She didn’t want to remind him that he’d told her to get lost. She wondered if he now thought it was too late, now that she’d seen the madness that was his—
No. She shook her head, on the off chance her brain hadn’t gotten that message. Nathaniel MacLeod’s life wasn’t crazy, and neither was hers. She had a good imagination, she was still suffering from jet lag, and she’d wandered into the forest while sleepwalking. She had gotten herself back to her house only after no doubt having fallen into a bog. Nothing more, nothing less.
She didn’t touch him, though, and he didn’t reach for her hand. She thought if she made any sort of contact with him, she just might shatter in truth.
Maybe he felt the same way.
She looked out the window and tried to ground herself in her current reality.
It was harder than she’d expected it to be.
Chapter 16
Itwas difficult to decide what to say to a woman you had rescued from a medieval dungeon, killed a man in front of, and subsequently invited out to breakfast as if none of the other events had taken place.
Nathaniel had never had company on his adventures, and he certainly hadn’t the company of a woman he’d saved from being drowned in the lake at sunrise only thanks to some very fast talking. He was actually rather glad she didn’t speak Gaelic or she likely would have slapped him instead of going off with him after what he’d had to say about her to Iain MacLeod there at the door earlier that morning.
He drove north because he knew where to find a quaint little pub where he imagined he could procure something tasty to eat. The region was also famous for scenic footpaths, which might come in handy as a distraction. He thought he might even be able to find Emma a coat.
He turned on the radio, because whilst he was very fond of piping, he would have preferred to get the medieval version of it out of his head. Piping left him thinking about battle, which left him wondering why the hell that Fergusson clansman he’d slain had been where he shouldn’t have been. At least he had done his duty to the MacLeods and spared them an unexpected early-morning assault.
Of course, none of that began to explain why Emma had found herself joining the medieval madness he’d believed was reserved only for him, but perhaps he knew the answer without giving it too much thought. She’d put her hand to hisdagger in Thomas Campbell’s museum. For all he knew, that had been enough to send her to a place where neither of them belonged.
He would investigate that later. At the moment, all he wanted to do was stop thinking and keep driving. In truth, he had no idea what to say and he was frankly terrified to look at Emma and possibly find her watching him too closely.
“What’s that castle there?”
He looked to his left and suppressed a shiver. “An old Fergusson stronghold.”
“Is Hamish the policeman related to them?”
“I imagine so.”
She was silent for a moment or two. “Mrs. McCreedy doesn’t seem to like him very much.”
“He’s a royal pain in the arse,” Nathaniel said with a snort. “She has good reason.”
