She looked up at him, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. She simply closed her eyes and stepped into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.
She held on to him and shook right along with him for a bit until his warmth became hers in spite of the air that was bordering on bitter. She turned her head and rested it against his shoulder, where she could look out over the garden, then jumped in spite of herself. That might have been because Robert the Piper, who had never quite left her side, had suddenly been joined by several other medieval-looking guys who had collected themselves in a loose group around him.
“Are you seeing this?” she whispered to Nathaniel.
“’Tis the Highlands, lass,” he said, sounding resigned. “I’ve seen more things than I want to admit to.”
She imagined he wasn’t talking about the scenery. She would have pursued that a bit, but his phone sitting on the wall was ringing with an insistence that made her want to go answer it.
“I’ll be back,” he said, stepping away and smiling faintly at her. “The lads will see to you, I’m sure.”
She was sure, too. She looked at the half dozen men who were in various states of sword-drawing and squeaked a little in spite of herself. The leader, a tall man who had a wicked scar down one cheek, looked at his companions.
“’Tis just the mobile, lads. Stand down.”
Discussion ensued but Emma didn’t understand a word of it because it was apparently being conducted in the Mother Tongue. She felt her way back to the wall and sat on it before she fell down. She didn’t protest when Robert leaned against the wall next to her. She hardly had to remind herself to ignore the fact that while her teeth were chattering, his were definitely not.
“They’re showing off,” he said dryly. “They know what a mobile is. They’re trying to impress you, I imagine.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she managed.
“Jamie’s forbid them going to Nat’s house of their own accord, so I think they’re trying to get around the laird’s edict by making enough of an impression that they’ll be invited. I suspect they’re trying to enlist your aid.” He shrugged with a smile. “Hard to say with ghosts, aye?”
She wasn’t sure how to begin to respond to that, so she smiled sickly and looked around for Nathaniel. His sword was still stabbed into the dirt nearby, reminding her of how proficient he was with it in a pair of centuries.
“Mistress Emma,” Robert said suddenly, “are you unwell?”
“Fine,” she said hoarsely. “Bad eggs. I think I might want to lie down—”
Half a dozen Highland ghosts rushed forward to spread their plaids out on the top of the rocks while their leader folded his quickly and plumped it into a pillow.
She didn’t have the heart to comment on the less-than-substantive nature of their clothing. It was bad enough to see them all standing there huddled in a little group, their long, cream-colored shirts not quite reaching their knees. She stretched out because she thought that might be better than falling off backward into what would no doubt turn out to be a patch of nettles.
She looked up at the sky until Nathaniel leaning over her blocked her view. She smiled gamely.
“Chivalry.”
“I’d say so. How would you feel about a quick trip to Manhattan?”
“Now?”
“As soon as you can pack.”
“I don’t think I can move,” she said, trying not to pop back up with enthusiasm. Nathaniel out of the country would mean she could do a little investigating in a safe place, maybe in a library that didn’t find itself anywhere near the forest. “You go on. I’ll be fine.”
He gave her his hand and pulled her up into a sitting position. “You’re coming with me.”
She watched a pair of Highlanders frown, retrieve their plaids, and hop over the rock wall to stand behind her. She looked over her shoulder and was faintly relieved to find they weren’t glaring at anyone but Nathaniel.
Thus empowered, she lifted her chin and looked at him.
“Don’t boss me.”
“I’m saving you.”
One of the Highlanders behind her leaned up. “Hate to say as much, but he has a point there.”
