But within moments they were outside walking toward the forest. Once they were there, Nathaniel looked at her.
“Can you run?”
“Yes.”
He glared at her. She shrugged helplessly but didn’t bother to explain herself. Hopefully there would be time enough for that later. She simply ran with him across the meadow and into the trees.
She was almost unsurprised when that stray clansman jumped out at them, only this time she noticed the dagger in his hand and how close to her chest it was before Nathaniel skewered him on the end of his sword.
She threw up anyway.
She had to admit that half an hour later when she was stumbling out from the edge of the forest and could see the lights from her house in the distance, she did the most sensible thing she’d done all night.
She burst into tears.
Nathaniel pulled her back into a walk and slung his arm around her shoulders. “We’re almost home.”
“I never cry.”
“You will once I’m done shouting at you.”
But he stopped, turned her to him, and held her until she was simply shaking so hard that her teeth were chattering. He finally half carried her to her house. He didn’t yell, not even when they were standing on her porch.
“Key?” he asked wearily.
“Under the front tire of Patrick’s car,” she managed. “I’ll go get it.”
“Stay here.”
She didn’t even dare lean against the doorframe. She was just as disgustingly filthy as she had been the first time. If she didn’t get hold of her nocturnal activities, she was going to be completely out of clothes before the week was out.
Nathaniel opened her door for her, turned on the lights, then handed her the key. He folded his arms over his chest and looked her up and down.
“Demon garb?” he asked sourly.
“Not anymore,” she said. She attempted a smile, but failed. “I was just trying to investigate the gate.” She took a deep breath. “I thought I could help you.”
“Darling, what you need is a keeper. I would offer myself for the job, but my life is complicated. What I want you to do is take that damned Audi I just bought you and get the hell over to the other side of the country.”
She lifted her chin. “No, you don’t.”
He swore at her. She supposed that was Gaelic. She imagined it hadn’t been complimentary.
“Where’d you learn that?” she asked.
His mouth worked for a moment or two, as if he simply couldn’t find the words he was looking for. “Where in the hell do youthinkI learned it?” he asked incredulously.
“You’re cranky.”
“What I am is fighting the almost irresistible impulse to wring your neck!”
She did smile then. “No, you definitely aren’t.” Then she noticed the stain on the front of his plaid, which was tossed over what looked to be a linen shirt of some kind.
That was blood from the man who had tried to kill her.
She pushed past him before she threw up on him. She leaned over the railing, dry heaving, until she was simply standing there, gasping for breath. It was quite a while before she regained enough control of herself to notice that he was standing next to her with his hand resting lightly on her back.
“I’m sorry,” she managed finally. “I’m so sorry.”
