Free The Scottish Companion by Karen Ranney Page A

my brothers,” he said, offering a hint of vulnerability so that they were equally matched. How brave of him, and how surprising.
    “How terrible to lose both of them in one year,” she said.
    “I was in Florence when Andrew died. I didn’t know about his death for two months.”
    “How very terrible for you.”
    “I often wondered what I was doing when he died.Was I working on my experiments, or having dinner with friends? What was so important that I somehow didn’t know he was dead?”
    “You couldn’t have been expected to know,” she said, wishing that she could ease his grief somehow.
    He didn’t reply, and she wondered if he regretted his comments.
    She turned her head and looked at him. “I’m so very sorry for your loss,” she said. Neither a fortune nor a title protected him from the pain of living. Everyone loves, everyone loses, and even being an earl could not insulate him from that.
    For a moment he remained silent, and then he spoke, his voice sounding rougher than usual. “Thank you, Miss Cameron. I appreciate your kindness.”
    “It wasn’t kindness, Your Lordship,” she said. “I, too, know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
    “Whom do you mourn, Miss Cameron?”
    That she would not tell him, and he didn’t press the issue after she shook her head.
    For an hour she sat beside him, watching out of the corner of her eye as he adjusted the wires on his machine. From time to time he would explain what he was doing, but for the most part they sat in companionable silence.
    When she was done with the bag of coins, she folded the burlap into a square, wiped her hands on the rag, and stood.
    “I should be going. Arabella’s headache must have eased by now.”
    “Is she often subject to headaches?”
    Only when she wished to be alone, but it would not be proper to say such a thing, would it?
    “Are you certain you wish to marry, Your Lordship?” An even more improper question.
    He studied the wires he was wrapping around a copper spool. “Why would you ask that, Miss Cameron?”
    “Arabella prefers her own company, Your Lordship. She is involved with her books, her medicine. She would, I think, infinitely prefer to remain single all her life.”
    “You have described a woman who would be my exact match in all ways.”
    “Do you dislike being touched, Your Lordship?”
    He looked startled at the question.
    “Arabella does. She cringes if anyone accidentally brushes by her, if a maid touches her hand, or even if her father pats her on the shoulder.”
    “Will you come tomorrow?”
    The change of topic was so jarring that she understood immediately. She was not to bring up the subject of his marriage or Arabella.
    She forced herself to look directly at him. Although it was harder this way, it was more courageous. “I don’t think so,” she said. “It would be wiser if I didn’t.”
    “Do you always do the wisest thing?” he asked.
    “No. Perhaps it’s for that reason that I won’t come tomorrow. Experience has taught me to be wary.”
    “Very well,” he said dismissively. “Enjoy life in fear, if you must, Miss Cameron.”
    Surprised, she could only stare at him. “I beg your pardon? Are you ridiculing me because of my decision?”
    “Yes,” he said, “I suppose I am.”
    “That’s hardly fair, is it?”
    “You’re afraid of something imaginary. I would never allow my electrics to harm you, Miss Cameron, or any of the experiments I perform. If they’re dangerous, then I will simply wait until you are not here to perform them.”
    “You think I’m afraid of your experiments?”
    “I think you should have a measure of caution about them, that is true. But not fear.”
    “I can assure you, Your Lordship, that I am not afraid of your experiments. Or of your electrics.”
    “Then what are you afraid of?”
    He looked up, focusing directly on her, all his attention given to her as if she were one of his machines. She found it disconcerting to be subjected