She looked up at that, er, ghost and felt a little faint. He was really rather handsome in a rugged sort of way, his less-than-corporeal nature aside. “He’s telling me what to do.”
“He’s a man, yer a gel.”
“Do you know what year this is?” She blinked, then looked at Nathaniel. “Okay, this is too far down the rabbit hole.”
“Which is why you need to come to New York with me,” he said firmly. “You can be my assistant.”
“Guard his back and all,” one of the Highlanders behind him agreed. “Handy with a dirk is she, Master Nathaniel?”
For once, Nathaniel looked as startled as she felt.
“Ah, I’m not sure,” he managed. “I think I’m afraid to ask.”
“We’ll train her whilst ye finish up with Lord Patrick,” a different ghost said. “Nae worries.”
Nathaniel considered, then pulled his sword free of the ground. He smiled at Emma. “I’ll be off then.”
“But,” she began, not quite sure how to call him a coward for ditching her.
“Ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder, “then we’ll go home to pack.”
Emma wondered if it would be rude to learn to use a dirk onhim. She looked at Robert for support only to find him smiling in amusement.
“I think you lost that battle,” he offered.
“But not the war,” she said. “Who wants to help me learn to stab him?”
There was some argument over whether or not that would be a good idea, but the possibility of retribution from Nathaniel was apparently less dire than her inability to protect his back in a tight spot. A tangible knife was produced by a ghost who then collapsed in exhaustion—she was going to have to ask someone about the details of that at some point—and she was given the basics in what she supposed passed for street fighting several centuries ago.
She thought it might properly be termed the longest half hour of her life.
•••
Bythe time she was sitting in Nathaniel’s very expensive sports car, heading toward Inverness to switch it for something less ding-worthy, she had decided that maybe normal was just going to continue to be out of reach for a while.
“I think I have a blister,” she said at one point.
He smiled at her briefly. “I don’t doubt it.”
“That was really weird.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he agreed. “I still don’t think I believe in ghosts.”
“But you believe in other kinds of paranormal activity,” she said slowly. “Or am I wrong?”
He drove in silence for a moment or two, then looked at her.
“Are we having this conversation?” he asked.
“I was fully prepared not to,” she admitted.
“And then you saw ghosts.”
“I saw ghosts,” she agreed. She watched the scenery for another couple of miles, then looked at him. “How long has it been going on?” She supposed she didn’t need to clarify what she was talking about.
He sighed deeply. “Five years.”
She blinked. “You’ve been going back and forth forfive years?”
