“Shut up.”
“I’m trying to keep you from bawling.”
“It might require more than that.”
“Details?”
“I’ll tell you if I can keep her from getting murdered long enough to see if she’d be interested in perhaps dating me more than once,” he said. He paused. “Perhaps permanently.”
Derrick dropped his phone. Oliver would have found that satisfying, but he was indeed far closer to a display of unmanly emotion than he cared to be.
“I’ll go give the basement treasures a wee rummage,” Derrick said briskly, “and be on the road in thirty. Where are you?”
“I’ll be at Moraig’s getting gear together.”
Derrick was silent for a moment or two. “Want company on your trip?”
“I think I have to go alone.”
“Understood. Don’t go load up on carbs, lad. They slow you down.”
Oliver suggested something Derrick could do with his dietary advice, had a laugh in return, then the line went dead. He looked at the phone that was surprisingly state of the art and wondered if Patrick would miss it. He supposed the only thing he could do was ask, so he collected his sword and left the study. He made his way to the great hall where he found the lord of the castle packing up a rucksack that not only would likely pass muster for time-period authenticity but was small and encouragingly sleek.
Patrick looked up at him. “Food, leather soles that can be laced to fit any foot, and sutures. I don’t dare send you with anything more modern.”
Oliver held up the phone and shot Patrick an enquiring look.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “I’ll claim you stole it.”
“They’ll enjoy that.”
Patrick nodded at the pack. “Charger’s in there already. I imagine you can find an outlet somewhere in Moraig’s that’ll serve you to top up what’s already in the battery. Don’t take it through the gate.”
Oliver nodded, then put the phone in his pocket only to realize he was still wearing his Highland uniform. He promised himself a good shudder later over how accustomed he’d become to running around in basically in his altogether covered only by a shirt and a handy bit of tartan. He took the pack Patrick handed him, put the phone inside, then made him a low bow.
“Thanks are inadequate.”
Patrick nodded toward the door. “Go rescue your girlfriend. You two can thank me later by babysitting so my lady and I can have a night out.”
Oliver nodded, had a quick hug and abe carefulfrom Madelyn at the door, which he suspected might have more meaning coming from her than just an older-sister sort of thing, then made his way back to his luxurious retreat to look for carbs.
He showered, dressed himself in a black polo neck jumper and equally black cargo trousers, and had hardly begun to dig about in the fridge for any leftover chips before he heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. He straightened, shut the fridge door, then closed his eyes briefly.
He might have to babysit for Robert Cameron a time or two as well before his debt was even dented.
He decided loitering on the threshold wasn’t a terrible idea, so he did so, waiting only a few moments before he saw Derrick walking swiftly through the forest in his direction carrying a black duffle bag. Oliver stood back and waved him inside.
“I claim sanctuary,” Derrick said, straight-faced.
Oliver refrained from telling his boss what he could do with his claims because he’d already sworn too much that day. He did roll his eyes, though, because he imagined Derrick expected at least that much.
It took ten minutes to unpack the possibilities and lay them out a discreet distance from the hearth Oliver hadn’t had the heart to start a fire in.
“Enough?” Derrick asked.
“More than, thank you.” He considered, then looked at his partner in crime and other more noble business ventures. “What do you know?”
“What I read on the flight down,” Derrick said bluntly. “When are you going to insert yourself?”
