Free Spirited Away by Cindy Miles

the lads, none laid claim to the deed. So who? Devil's hooves, he didn't want to seem inadequate.
    Deciding to turn the subject until he could find out more, he pointed to the overturned oak. "Explain to me the order in which your tasks will proceed. I want to make sure your duties go accordingly while on Dreadmoor land. Then, if you've any further questions for me, you may ask them now."
    "Okay. First, the photos."
    She discarded the brightly colored waterproof cloak, laid it aside, and crouched down, pointing to the bones and the surrounding soil. The tunic she wore rose above her waist, exposing the small of her back, the slight bones of her spine raising her smooth skin. Damnation. Focus on her words, dolt, not her body.
    "I want to get as much on the digital as possible before touching anything. Once the area is disturbed, especially once the bones are removed, all facts and evidence are destroyed." Shielding her eyes from the sun, she gave him another smile. "That's why it's so important to get it down right from the start. I can't miss one little detail, or it's lost. Forever."
    Tristan stared at the tenacious woman, squatted down in the black muck with her knee-high waterproof boots on, enjoying herself. By the blade, he shouldn't be here. Leave her alone and let her be, he'd told himself. He'd had business to tend to this morn, 'twas true enough. Having used a portion of the ghastly amount of gold he'd accumulated before his death, not to mention that of his uncles—secured through the years by the thrifty Jameson family—he had procured a trustworthy solicitor and had several lucrative investment properties throughout the south of England, which not only kept his bank account more than plentiful, but paid the taxes on the castle and managed the running of it. Without a doubt, the best course of action should have been to leave Dr. Monroe to the digging of the bones.
    But nay. He'd watched her take her leave from his solar, then found himself staring whilst she worked. He'd hurried through his phone meeting with Mr. Adams, his solicitor, and had sought her out. He'd regret it later, he knew. But for now, he wanted to know more.
    He felt ... drawn to her.
    "Tristan?"
    Damn. Crossing his arms across his chest, he frowned.
    "I'm glad to see my coin has not been wasted." He peered over her head into the gaping hole. "And what do you expect to find after fetching all the bones out?"
    Andi rose and walked toward a canvas bag on the ground. She unzipped it and lifted a camera.
    "Well, although not my primary profession, I do have a background in forensic anthropology. It won't be a fast procedure. There are 206 bones in the adult skeleton. I'll be able to tell you whether the bones are male or female, if the right bones are available. I may be able to tell how long they've been in the ground, which, since they're rooted under this tree, I'd estimate at least six or seven hundred years, maybe more. And how old the person was. At least, an approximation." She unscrewed the cover protecting the lens. "After the photos are taken and I've made a record of how everything is laid out, I'll slowly collect the remains and send them to a friend of mine—a pathologist. He'll do more extensive examinations on the bones while I excavate the rest of the site here."
    Tristan nodded, hoping he appeared more interested in her work than how fetching she looked in the modern trews snugged against her bottom. He swallowed. "Good. I expect you'll do a thorough job."
    She gave him a half grin. "I always do." Then she turned and began snapping photos.

    Hmmm. A saucy wench. He rather liked that. He liked her confidence and determination, as well. It nearly gave him the courage to trust her.
    Saints, would that he could.
    "Does this mean you won't be meeting with me this evening?"
    Go on, Dreadmoor. Answer her. He looked into round, hazel eyes, widened with expectation.
    Waiting for an answer. Wanting to meet with him tonight. Where was his