Free Untamed by Nora Roberts

lesson from the circus. We have French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Mexican, Americans from all parts of the country and more.”
    â€œI know. It’s like a traveling United Nations.” He tipped his cigar ash in a glass tray. “So you picked up some French and Italian along the way. But if you’ve traveled with the circus all your life, what about the rest of your schooling?”
    The hint of censure in his voice brought up her chin. “I went to school during the winter break and had a tutor on the road. I learned my ABCs, counselor, and a bit more, besides. I probably know more about geography and world history than you, and from more interesting sources than textbooks. I imagine I know more about animals than a third-year veterinary student and have more practical experience healing them. I can speak seven languages and—”
    â€œSeven?” Keane interrupted. “Seven languages?”
    â€œWell, five fluently,” she corrected grudgingly. “I still have a bit of trouble with Greek and German, unless I can really take my time, and I can’t read Greek yet at all.”
    â€œWhat else besides French, Italian and English?”
    â€œSpanish and Russian.” Jo scowled into her coffee. “The Russian’s handy. I use it for swearing at the cats during the act. Not too many people understand Russian cursing, so it’s safe.”
    Keane’s laughter brought Jo’s attention from her coffee. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes gold with their mirth. Jo’s scowl deepened. “What’s so funny?”
    â€œYou are, Jovilette.” Stung, she started to scramble up, but his hands on her shoulders stopped her. “No, don’t be offended. I can’t help but find it amusing that you toss out so offhandedly an accomplishment that any language major would brag about.” Carelessly, he ran a finger over her sulky mouth. “You continually amaze me.” He brushed a hand through her hair. “You mumbled something at me the other day. Were you swearing at me in Russian?”
    â€œProbably.”
    Grinning, Keane dropped his hand and settled into his chair again. “When did you start working with the cats?”
    â€œIn front of an audience? When I was seventeen. Frank wouldn’t let me start any earlier. He was my legal guardian as well as the owner, so he had me both ways. I was ready when I was fifteen.”
    â€œHow did you lose your parents?”
    The question caught her off guard. “In a fire,” she said levelly. “When I was seven.”
    â€œHere?”
    She knew Keane was not referring to their locale but to the circus. Jo sipped her cooling coffee. “Yes.”
    â€œDidn’t you have any other family?”
    â€œThe circus is a family,” she countered. “I was never given the chance to be an orphan. And I always had Frank.”
    â€œDid you?” Keane’s smile was faintly sarcastic. “How was he as a father figure?”
    Jo studied him for a moment. Was he bitter? she wondered. Or amused? Or simply curious? “He never took my father’s place,” she replied quietly. “He never tried to, because neither of us wanted it. We were friends, as close as I think it’s possible for friends to be, but I’d already had a father, and he’d already had a child. We weren’t looking for substitutes. You look nothing like him, you know.”
    â€œNo,” Keane replied with a shrug. “I know.”
    â€œHe had a comfortable face, all creases and folds.” Jo smiled, thinking of it while she ran a finger absently around the rim of her mug. “He was dark, too, just beginning to gray when . . .” She trailed off, then brought herself back with a quick shake of her head. “Your voice is rather like his, though; he had a truly beautiful voice. I’ll ask you a question now.”
    Keane’s expression