She patted his back. “I’m sure you’re right.”
He nodded, then stepped away. He could hardly believe he was contemplating his current madness, but he supposed he’d marched into worse. He locked his car, then walked with Emma across the courtyard to the front door.
Patrick opened the door at his knock, looked him up and down, and smiled. “I see you came prepared.”
“You said I should,” Nathaniel said pointedly.
Patrick stood back and held the door open. “And so I did. You find me in reduced circumstances, I’m afraid. Maddy took the bairns and went with Sunny and my sister-in-law, Elizabeth, to London to escape the chill for a bit.”
“A big city, London,” Nathaniel noted.
Patrick lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t think I sent them off alone, do you? Nay, my friend, we’ve an entire collection of terrifying lads to accompany our priceless treasures wherever they go.” He shrugged lightly. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”
Nathaniel had no intention of asking him what he meant by that, mostly because he imagined he didn’t need to. He stood to the side as Patrick asked Emma where she might most comfortably pass a few hours whilst he and Nathaniel took a bit of healthful air and exercise. Nathaniel didn’t even consider protesting the length of time. If he managed to get himself out of Patrick’s backyard before dark, he would be fortunate indeed.
“I’ll watch you two at your work, if it’s all the same to you,” she said quietly.
Nathaniel caught the look Patrick threw him, but didn’t respond. What was he going to say? That Emma had gotten lost in the past, he’d gone back to rescue her from the MacLeod dungeon, and he’d slain the same man twice in a row to get himself and Emma back to the present day safely?
He imagined His Lordship would have all those answers and more anyway whilst he was down on his knees beggingfor mercy, so he thought it might be best to simply leave them for then.
“You don’t mind if we speak in the native tongue, do you?” Patrick asked politely. “I don’t want to be rude, of course.”
“Feel free,” Emma said, waving him on. “Wouldn’t want to stand in the way of keeping it alive.”
Patrick looked at him and nodded. “Let’s go, laddie. No sense in leaving my field untrampled.”
“Do you have a field, my lord?”
“I do. I generally wreak havoc at my cousin Ian’s, but I’m too lazy to walk there this morning. If you don’t mind a bit of rough ground, I think we can find room enough beyond the garden.”
Nathaniel wasn’t sure what he minded. He was just suddenly beginning to wonder if bringing Emma along had been a grave mistake. He hadn’t wanted to leave her unsupervised, but he was also not exactly sure he wanted her to see what he could do. She had already seen too much.
He chewed on that as he followed Patrick outside, saw Emma settled on a bit of low garden wall, then paused and looked at her. She was a grown woman, which he supposed meant that she could make up her own mind about what she wanted to see and what she wanted to look away from. The cold steel in his hand, though, brought him back to reality in a way that nothing had that morning.
“You know,” he said to her carefully, “I didn’t give you much choice about coming with me.”
Her expression was very serious. “You didn’t force me into the car with you, Nathaniel.”
“But I didn’t ask you what you wanted to do—”
“I wouldn’t have come with you if I hadn’t wanted to, no matter what you’re holding in your hand right now.” She gave him a half smile. “Besides, you bought me breakfast and offered to buy me clothes in the future. Hard to argue with either of those things.”
He wanted to point out that they were completely avoiding what the subject at hand truly was, but she’d already told him that she didn’t want to discuss it. That made it difficult to decide how facing off with Patrick MacLeod over medieval broadswords could improve anything.
She nodded toward their host. “Go hack away. I don’t think I’ll swoon.”
He lifted his eyebrows briefly. “I can be pretty spectacular on the field, so you might want to leave the possibility open.”
She laughed faintly. “Get lost, show-off. I’ll go sit by the fire if I get bored. Patrick’s already offered that escape route.”
He took a deep breath, nodded, then walked off to follow Patrick out to what indeed proved to be a decent-sized bit of flat ground. As Patrick turned, he realized that the man had left the scabbard of his sword behind, likely against the garden wall, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought to do the same.
Because he was completely ill-at-ease, that’s why.
The sound of pipes starting up almost had him jumping out of his skin. He scarce had time to fling the scabbard of his sword far enough away that he thought he might stand a fair chance of not tripping over it before the ruthless lord of Benmore was coming at him, looking as though he had every intention of killing him.
That was the last coherent thought he had for quite some time.
