The tall Scot smiled tightly. “Aye, Stone, I will.” He started walking away, but stopped at the end of the hall and looked back. “Good luck tomorrow, my friend. Mind that my cousin doesn’t run you in circles and leave you in the woods. She can get creative when she’s wanting to prove a point.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Jack said, stepping back into his office and softly closing the door. O-kay. Another thread had just connected; MacBain knew Jack’s attacker and was covering for the bastard. Obviously guardian wasn’t a hollow title.

Nor was laird, apparently.

Megan’s family was nearly as weird as his own.

Chapter Twelve

J ack sat on his snowmobile on the lake in front of Megan’s house, sipping coffee from his Thermos as he watched the MacKeage family in action. Greylen had arrived on a snowmobile laden with equipment about twenty minutes ago, and Grace MacKeage had pulled into the driveway in their SUV shortly after. Camry, in a coat thrown over her pajamas and unlaced boots on her feet, was battling the cold by dancing in place as she added her own two cents to the send-off.

When Grace wasn’t playing the buffer between Megan and Grey, she was eyeing Jack, apparently trying to assimilate what she knew about Wayne Ferris with the man her daughter was heading into the woods with this morning.

Jack shot her a wink.

Grace immediately left the group and walked over to him. “May I offer you a word of advice, Mr. Stone?” she asked, her expression congenial.

“I only take advice from people who call me Jack.” He pulled out a cup and large Thermos from his saddlebag, poured out some hot cocoa, and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Jack,” she said, taking the steaming cup. She looked back at the scene near shore and shook her head. “My husband raised our girls to be very comfortable in the woods, yet every time one of them heads out, he feels compelled to remind them of everything he taught them.”

“It’s a father-daughter thing. He wouldn’t be lecturing a grown son, would he?”

Grace blew on her cocoa. “No, he wouldn’t. That’s why you only got a nod from him this morning.”

Jack chuckled softly. “A man can say a lot with a nod. This morning, it said that if I don’t bring his daughter back safe and sound, not to bother coming back myself.”

Grace gave a soft laugh. “Are you a patient man, Jack?”

“It so happens my patience is legendary. Why, am I going to need it?”

“Oh, yes.” She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Camry said you don’t have any family. Is that true?”

“It’s been just me and my shadow for the last twenty years.”

“Then promise me you won’t let the size of our family scare you off.”

“Exactly which size would that be? The height, or your sheer numbers?”

Megan’s beautiful mother laughed. “Both, I suppose.” She grew serious again. “At times you might feel like you’re running a gauntlet, I’m afraid. They’re going to test you repeatedly, and I suspect Megan will be leading the pack.”

“My great-grandfather used to call me Coyote,” Jack told her. “And coyotes are very resilient animals, Mrs. MacKeage.”

“Call me Grace, Jack. And please, stop calling Grey laird,” she asked, rolling her eyes. She turned thoughtful. “If I remember correctly, isn’t having a coyote for a totem a good thing? Aren’t they considered uncommonly cunning?”

“A rocket scientist who knows Native American lore?”

“You’d be surprised how open-minded scientists are about the unexplainable. You might want to remember that when you’re dealing with Megan. Camry said your great-grandfather was a shaman.”

Jack sighed. “Forest Dreamwalker was the last of a dying breed, which lost its appeal with modern medicine.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Don’t worry. Your grandchild will have ten fingers and toes and won’t be born with a feather in its hair.”

She gave him a sharp look. “We will love that baby if it has twelve toes and two heads. We are not prejudiced people, Mr. Stone.”

“I’m sorry. I had no call to imply that you are,” he said, feeling his face flush. “It’s just that when most people hear the word shaman, they start thinking of campfire rituals and mystical trances.”

She remained silent, and Jack wanted to kick himself. “At the risk of shooting myself in the foot, Megan and Camry seemed alarmed when they learned about my great-grandfather.”

Grace looked down at her cocoa. “They’ve been fascinated with the magic since they were little girls.” She looked up. “So, Jack. Can you explain to me why you couldn’t have kept my daughter safe without completely devastating her?”

“When Megan told me she was pregnant, I simply panicked. I didn’t know what in heck was going on, other than that a man had been murdered. I just wanted her off that tundra so I could concentrate on getting Billy Wellington out of harm’s way.”

“Do you have any idea what it does to a woman when she gives herself to a man that completely, and he throws it back in her face?”

“No, ma’am. I only know what it did to me.”

“Do you love her?”

“More than I ever thought possible.”

“And have you told her that?”

Jack stilled in surprise. “Not lately,” he admitted.

Grace gave a feminine snort. “Don’t you think you should?”

“She won’t believe me.”

“I believe you, Jack.”

“You do? Why?”

“Because you’ve let yourself get beaten up all week.”

“You think that’s been on purpose?”

“Are you incapable of defending yourself, then?”

Damn, she was perceptive. “But what would my getting beaten up prove to Megan?”

“Maybe that you need her as much as she needs you?”

“Are we leaving today, or what?” Megan called out. “You’re slowing me down, Jack.”

She’d finally called him Jack! “I’m ready when you are,” he called back, quickly stashing his Thermos and picking up his helmet. He looked at Grace. “You think it’s as simple as me telling her that I love her?”

“No—I think it’s that complicated.”

Megan pulled up beside them on her sled. “What are you two talking about?” she asked through the open visor of her helmet.

“You, mostly.” Jack slid on his own helmet, then reached out and started his sled. Megan zoomed off, heading up the cove, and Jack looked at Grace again. “Thanks for the advice.” He slapped down his visor and gave his sled the gas, aiming for the cloud of snow dust already half a mile up the lake.

Megan zoomed up the lake with abandon, every fiber of her being humming in joy. Finally she was back doing what she knew and loved. How had she strayed so far from herself? She didn’t belong behind some counter selling her sister’s paintings; she belonged outdoors with the cold wind nipping her nose and the crisp air sharpening her senses.

She felt so exhilarated, she didn’t even mind that Jack was tagging along. It rankled that her father had so quickly decided that he liked him on some man-to-man level, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy today’s outing—and maybe even have a bit of fun at Jack’s expense.

Megan checked her mirror and saw that Jack had caught up and fallen in line behind her, and she stifled a snort. Did he think she was falling for his act? She was on to him now; under that defenseless-appearing exterior, Jack Stone was as hard as his last name implied.

Megan continued across the lake as fast as she dared, considering every little bump bounced her baby down on her bladder. Damn. She hadn’t thought about having to stop for bathroom breaks with Jack along. She’d borrowed Elizabeth’s suit from when her sister had been pregnant, but she was going to have to take off the damn thing completely to pee in the woods—which was going to be chilly and time-consuming.

She sure hoped Jack was a patient man.

Megan frowned. Those had definitely been angry bees, not butterflies, fluttering around in her stomach when she’d stood nose to chin with him yesterday, jostling for position. And she didn’t care how stressed he had looked, or that any fool could see he needed a day in the woods as much as she did. Why had she capitulated so quickly and agreed to let him come along?