He took her by the arms, turned her to him, and looked at her seriously. “I am going to go home now, take a shower, and go to bed. I want your word that you’ll do exactly the same thing.”
“I’m not sure what my alternative is,” she managed. “I’m running out of clothes to ruin.”
“Which is why we should go shopping very soon, perhaps at Harrods, where you’ll be comfortably far away from anything that will get you in trouble.” He stepped back. “I want your promise that you’ll stay home. Promise me. I’m fully prepared to babysit you if I have to.”
“I’m going to strip, take a shower, then go to bed myself. It wouldn’t be very interesting.”
He smiled faintly. “That is a matter of opinion, I assure you, and almost more temptation than I can bear to walk away from.” He nodded toward her door. “Inside, woman. Don’t make me prod you there with my sword.”
She had no doubts that he would if pressed, and she’d already forced him to—
She couldn’t think about that, and she didn’t want to ask him if he’d done that sort of thing before because she had the feeling he had. She took a deep breath, then nodded and walked to her door.
“Emma?”
She turned and looked at him. “Yes?”
He seemed to be wrestling with what he wanted to say, but she didn’t think she should help him. The truth was, she didn’t want to talk about anything more serious than what might be good for breakfast later.
“I’m curious,” he said finally and apparently quite unwillingly. He stopped, then simply looked at her in silence.
She understood what he was getting at. She dug around in her shirt and came up with her page. She held it up. “I ripped this out of a book.”
“What is it?”
“It says it’s a drawing of the MacLeod keep in 13... well, you know.”
He was in denial, that man there. He only looked at her and shook his head. “You can’t do this, Emma.”
“Rip pages out of books?”
He looked at her evenly. “You cannot do this, Emma.”
“All right.”
He dragged his hand through his hair and swore. He looked at her. “I’m not going to discuss this.”
“And you think I want to?”
He scowled at her, but came inside and lit the fire in her stove just the same. He walked past her back outside without looking at her. “Lock up.”
“I always do.”
“I’ll be back later.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “You had best be here or there’ll be hell to pay.”
And not from mewas what he didn’t add, but she suspected he was thinking it just as seriously as she was.
She nodded, then shut herself inside her house. She strippedright there in the kitchen, showered, then took her clothes outside and tossed them in a garbage can she was sure didn’t get emptied all that often. She didn’t want to think about what anyone might think of what she’d contributed.
She went to bed because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in one. She was going to have to figure things out—
No. No, she wasn’t. She was going to pull herself together, thank Patrick for the loan of his car and Nathaniel for the offer of his, then pack her stuff and go. She didn’t like to think she had things handled only to find she didn’t have anything handled at all.
Maybe that was exactly how Nathaniel felt.
She stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, grateful for the soft light from the lamp she’d left on in the living room, and wondered how exactly Nathaniel dealt with... well, whatever it was he was dealing with, which couldn’t possibly be anything she had unthinkably been sucked into.
That was, she decided, something she could avoid thinking about until later.
