Ever My Love

by Lynn Kurland

  What in the bloody hell had he been doing there, and what had he been forced to do to escape?

  He looked at Emma, beautiful, fresh-faced Yank that she was, and felt his heart stop for a moment or two. It hit him with the force of a dozen angry fists exactly what he was going to have to do, and that was get Emma as far away from him and the madness that was his life as possible. If he had to buy her a cottage somewhere, anywhere besides next to his, he would do it without hesitation.

  He couldn’t allow her to become entangled in what he had the feeling was coming his way.

  And it had everything to do with a dagger that found itself where it absolutely shouldn’t have.

  Chapter 13

  Emma stood at a figurative crossroads and tried to ignore the warning noises going off in her head with all the delicacy of gigantic church bells ringing at noon. That was generally the sort of thing that happened when one knew one was headed in a direction that shouldn’t be taken.

  If she’d had any sense, she would have turned around, settled the MacLeod plaid beret Nathaniel had bought for her more firmly on her head, and found the closest coffee shop to hide in until Fate or Opportunity or Crazy continued on to find another victim.

  But she had to know.

  She took a casual look around her for thugs, earls, and neighbors made ill by looking at random historical items, then started off in a direction she couldn’t help but go.

  What she was supposed to be doing was heading back up to Edinburgh Castle to wander around a bit more in history. She’d agreed with Nathaniel that such was her best option while he dealt with business stuff courtesy of a quick use of one of Brian’s offices. She still wasn’t sure what he did exactly, which would have left Bertie the Spy shaking his head in disbelief that she’d let that little tidbit go unexamined for so long, but she knew it had to do with investing, and maybe that was enough for the moment. It was going to keep him busy while she went off and did some serious nose-poking into things she knew she should stay out of.

  Snooping was such an adrenaline rush.

  For all anyone knew, she was heading back to talk shop with a man who was truly well-versed in metalsmithing and had the scars on his hands to prove it. If she happened to indulge her curiosity about medieval blades languishing in his back room, well, who could blame her?

  It took her a couple of trips down streets she realized after the fact were the wrong ones before she found the right street and the right shop. She didn’t usually make that sort of mistake, but she had to admit she was a little distracted.

  She put her hand on the door just as Mr. Campbell was reaching for his sign to turn it over to closed. He paused, then opened the door and smiled at her.

  “’Tis you, lass,” he said pleasantly. “I was just going to lock up for an hour and take a late lunch, but you’re welcome to join me.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” she demurred.

  “You wouldn’t be, of course.” He stepped back and held the door open, then nodded for her to come in. “Where’s your lad?”

  “Off doing business,” she said politely.

  “As long as your visit this morning didn’t put him in hospital, I suppose I won’t worry about him.” Mr. Campbell smiled. “Come keep me company whilst I have a wee bite. Care for something yourself?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said.

  Mr. Campbell shut the door behind her, then nodded toward the back of his place. “Look around all you like, unless there’s something in particular you want to examine right off?”

  She smiled. “I’m that obvious?”

  “A fellow metalsmith,” he said with an answering smile. “Recognized that in you immediately, if you must know. We can’t stay away from the stuff, can we?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’d ever make anything of steel,” she admitted. “I’m happier with silver and gold.”

  “Never say never, lass,” Mr. Campbell said with a smile. “You never know where the forge’s fire will lead you if you let it. Now, shall I just turn you loose, or is there something I can show you?”

  She supposed plunging right in was the best plan. “I would like to have another look at that dagger, if you don’t mind.”

  He only smiled. “I would have been surprised by anything else. Come along then, and have your look.”

  Emma followed him through his collections, realizing how much she’d missed that morning. Not only did he have an enormous collection of museum-quality pieces, he had a substantial number of things for sale. She looked at him in surprise.

  “Did you make those?”

  “’Tis my passion, lass,” he said with a smile. “You’d be surprised how many people want a blade forged in the old-fashioned way.”

  She imagined she wouldn’t be. For all she knew those reenactment guys in the woods were his best customers.

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  “I’ll fetch my sandwich, if you don’t mind waiting,” he said.

  “I’m happy to,” she said, accepting a seat across from the case that held that remarkable dagger.

  It gave her the chills.

  It was still giving her the chills fifteen minutes later after her host was finished with his lunch and relaxing with his tea.

  “That blade there,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what to think about it.”

  “Is it not fourteenth century?” she asked.

  “Oh, it is,” he said. “The style is definitely common to the time. I deal in all manner of blades, as you can see, and most have a history of some sort behind them. That thing there, though . . .” He frowned thoughtfully. “There’s something odd about it.”

  She considered, then decided that nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Would you mind if I touched it?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “You might have an opinion on it.”

  She didn’t hope as much, but she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to see what that dagger was really about. She tried to look casually interested as her host unlocked his cabinet and stepped back.

  “There you are, lass. Let’s see if you notice anything I haven’t.”

  Well, for all she knew about it, the thing just looked like a regular piece of metal. It was pretty, true, but she couldn’t imagine why just seeing it would send Nathaniel into such a tailspin.

  “The date is interesting,” the man said. “1387. Etched right there, isn’t it?”

  Indeed, it was. She felt the world shift in a very strange way, almost as if she had been looking at it expecting it to be one thing, then a film had been drawn back and she saw it in an entirely different way.

  She wondered if she might be losing her mind.

  “Would you like to hold it?” the man said. “Not often we see a piece of history this old, aye?” He lifted the dagger off what she could now see were very thin wires suspended from the top of the case, then held it out toward her. “There you are, gel.”

  Time slowed. That was perhaps an even odder sensation than what she’d experienced before. She reached out toward the dagger, but it seemed to take forever—

  “Emma, no—”

  She paused, then looked back over her shoulder. She didn’t remember Nathaniel having been there. She half wondered how he’d gotten inside, but Mr. Campbell hadn’t locked the front door, had he? How had Nathaniel known where to find her?

  Maybe he was a better tracker than she’d given him credit for being.

  She looked back at that dagger there in front of her. Its current owner was holding it with two hands. It couldn’t have been heavy, so it must have been precious—

  “Emma!”

  She waved Nathaniel off, over her shoulder because she didn’t want to bother with the effort of looking at him. She was on a mission and her business was in front of her. No sense in squandering energy that c
ould be put to better use. She stretched out her hand and touched the hilt of the blade.

  Her world exploded.

  She released the weapon immediately, just so she didn’t fall over and somehow land on top of the sharp part. She supposed she should have listened to Nathaniel, but it was too late and she had apparently been too stubborn.

  She felt arms go around her and break her fall. She would have thanked her rescuer, but she was too busy trying not to lose her breakfast. It was no wonder Nathaniel looked so green when he encountered something that unsettled him.

  1387. What in the hell did that mean?

  She had absolutely no idea how long it took for her head to even begin to clear. When she finally became aware of her surroundings again, she realized she was sitting in Nathaniel’s lap, cradled in his arms, as he sat on that chair where he’d sat for so long earlier that morning. He’d looked at the time as if he were on the verge of puking his guts out.

  She understood, totally.

  “Emma?”

  She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him blearily. “I’m fine.”

  “Drink.”

  She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was absolutely disgusting. Whisky, perhaps. Her eyes watered madly and she coughed, but she felt almost instantly better. She pushed the glass away and sat up a bit.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re such a lightweight,” he said dryly.

  She found it in her to look at him narrowly. “Don’t think that little Brooklyn twang to your words is going to get you anywhere with me,” she managed. “That was vile.”

  He sipped, then laughed a little. “I’d have to agree, but I won’t offend our host there by telling him as much. He’s worried enough about you that I think he was ready to call for a nurse.”

  “Oh, let’s go before he does.”

  He didn’t move, though, and neither did she. She hesitated, then leaned her head back against his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate; he put his arms back around her and then began to run his hand over her hair. She closed her eyes and wondered what he was up to. Whatever it was, she had the feeling it wasn’t anything she wanted to get involved in. If she had any sense at all, she would leap up and run like hell.

  But she didn’t move.

  And neither did he.

  “How is the wee lass?”

  “Fine,” Nathaniel said. “Just a bit overwhelmed by the magnificence of your prize there, I suspect. Tourist jitters and all that.”

  She would have elbowed him, but she couldn’t get her elbow where it could do damage. He only tightened his arms around her.

  “I would be just as overwhelmed,” he said seriously. “A lovely piece of history, that. Where did you come by it again?”

  “The journey is long and a wee bit convoluted,” Mr. Campbell said slowly. “Let’s just say someone thought I might want it.”

  “You being a connoisseur of all things historical and sharp.”

  “Exactly,” Mr. Campbell said, sounding as if no higher praise could be heaped on his head.

  “You have a keen eye and a nose for a good buy,” Nathaniel said.

  “And you’ve an obvious appreciation for the same,” the man said. “Would you care to hold this?”

  Nathaniel made noises of regret. “Don’t dare, I’m afraid. I might drop it on my tender toes.”

  Emma closed her eyes and listened to them go on about things that she soon tuned out. She didn’t believe in ghosts, alternative medicine, or things she couldn’t pin on a board and look at critically. She steadfastly refused to admit that she did believe in yoga, green drinks, and anything her intuition told her, but that sort of thing seemed very logical and sensible.

  What she was dealing with at present didn’t.

  She wasn’t sure if she slept or not. She thought she might have dozed. She understood completely why Nathaniel had done the same thing, if he’d gone through what she just had.

  “Here’s my card, lad,” the man was saying. “Call me if you dig up anything in your backyard. I’ll pay you a pretty penny for it.”

  “I will definitely call you first,” Nathaniel assured him. “And thank you for the offer.”

  “You’re certain you don’t care to put a hand to this blade here?” Mr. Campbell asked. “Hard to pass up that sort of history, aye?”

  “And yet I think I must,” Nathaniel said. “Have to get this wee lassie home, don’t I?”

  Emma supposed that was her cue to get back to reality. She forced herself to sit up, then continued on all the way to her feet. If she swayed a bit, she didn’t say anything and neither did Nathaniel. He simply put his arm around her shoulders and held her up. She forgave him for the tourist comment.

  That might have been because she realized he was trembling. Just the slightest bit, of course, which she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been leaning on him. She put her arm around his waist, didn’t look at him, and walked with him outside.

  “You all right?” she asked casually as they walked back toward their hotel.

  “I just had my grandfather’s lead counsel for lunch,” he said grimly, “so I’m fine.”

  “How was he?”

  “Delicious.”

  She smiled in spite of herself. “I can only imagine. Well, now that we’ve both had our share of excitement, what now?”

  He took a deep breath, then pulled away from her. “Daft as this might sound, I think I need to get home today. If you don’t mind.”

  She couldn’t say why, but she had the same feeling. “Of course,” she said. “Whatever works.”

  He nodded, but said nothing else. She glanced at him occasionally as they walked back to their hotel, surreptitiously enough that she hoped he wouldn’t notice. He didn’t look pale, but he kept flexing his fingers as if he were trying to bring the feeling back into them.

  That was odd.

  She grabbed her stuff out of her room, then went downstairs to find Nathaniel trying to switch the SIM card out of her phone into a new one. She put her hand over his before he dropped everything.

  “I could do that while we’re driving,” she said easily, “and I’ll pay you for this.”

  He shot her a look that made her smile.

  “All right, I won’t. I’ll cook you something, though I’m not sure how that’s any more appealing.”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He simply handed her both phones without comment. She thought that was equally odd, but he was a man and they were an inscrutable race. Perhaps that post-lunch snack of attorney hadn’t been as tasty as he’d tried to make it out to be. He looked like he had a headache, and she had to admit that she couldn’t blame him. All she wanted to do was close her eyes for approximately a week.

  Maybe when she woke up, she would have an answer for what had happened to her back in that shop.

  • • •

  It was dark by the time they reached the village. Nathaniel slowed, then pulled over. Emma looked at him in surprise.

  “What is it?”

  He took a deep breath, then looked at her. “I’m going to buy you a car.”

  She blinked. “Of course you aren’t.”

  “I think it would be best.”

  She started to answer, but was interrupted by a text. She looked at Nathaniel. “Do you mind?”

  He waved her on, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat rest. Emma saw it was a message from Patrick, wondering when she was coming back and reminding her that a car was waiting for her. He extended an invitation for dinner if she happened to be in the area.

  “Patrick invited us to dinner.”

  “You, more than likely. He doesn’t know me.”

  She was a little surprised by the brusqueness of his tone. She frowned thoughtfully. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she thou
ght she might want to have a set of wheels while she found out. “Would you mind dropping me there?”

  He shook his head, put his car back in gear, and pulled out onto the road. It was only then that she realized he was still driving his red extravagance and wondered if he knew it. She thought it was probably best not to mention it. He looked distracted enough as it was.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was pulling into Patrick and Madelyn’s courtyard. He turned the car off, put his hands on the wheel, then looked at her.

  “I think you should move.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Move? You mean right now?”

  “I mean from the cottage,” he said seriously. “I think you should find another place in Scotland to stay.”

  She felt as if she’d been slapped. In the past, her first reaction would have been to blink, then maybe tear up. Scotland must have done something to her, because all she wanted to do at the moment was punch him.

  “Who,” she said as crisply as possible, “the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

  He tightened his jaw. “I am someone who doesn’t want to see you get hurt and, as such, I think you should be very far away from me—”

  Her door opened, making her jump. She looked up to find the good lord of Benmore himself standing there, smiling pleasantly.

  “Mistress Emma,” he said, holding her door open. “Just in time. And I see you’ve brought a friend.”

  “I was just leaving,” Nathaniel said grimly.

  “And I think you should stay,” Patrick said. “Highland hospitality, you know. Wouldn’t want to offend the local young Himself, now would you? In you come, laddie, and have a meal with us.”

  Emma watched Nathaniel peel his fingers off the steering wheel rather reluctantly. He turned off his car and got out. She crawled out as well, not because she cared what he did but because she wanted to make sure he—