“No doubt.” A smile played on his lips. “I will be honest with you. My father spent much of his fortune helping Highlanders keep their homes during the Clearances. A noble effort that left much debt. I am loath to sell, but I must. Eliminating the ghosts sounds mad, but is necessary.”
“Yet you never much believed in the hauntings.”
“I am more inclined to the notion now.” He blew out a breath. “The dreams have returned.”
“Oh!” She sat forward. “The woman? The shadowy figure?”
“Just the woman. A slight figure, misty and silvery. Very sad. She reaches out, says something I cannot quite understand, and then I wake, often to a commotion.”
“Tapping, knocking?”
“Tremendous thumps that shake the doors, even the walls. Things are thrown—books, dishes. Stones, if one is in the tower.”
“How often has this occurred?”
“Too often in the short time I have been here. I have not slept well.” He pushed a hand through his hair, fingers deep in the dark waves.
Her heart went out to him. “Apparitions?”
“Just dreams. I am not given to seeing things.”
“What about the tower?”
“I have hardly set foot there since—we were there last.”
She met his somber gaze. “I see. That day—” She stopped. The disagreement—his voice low and flat, hers raised. He had insisted they could not marry, saying only that he was not ready, not well. She insisted that she loved him and would not leavehim. But he prevailed. She had nearly tumbled down the steps as she ran, heartbroken.
“Things sometimes happen in the tower. Servants have seen lights, noises, stones falling. They have even heard moans. I keep my distance.”
Elinor knew he paid a price for that. The tower originated from the era he studied most closely, yet he avoided it now. She frowned, saddened to know that.
“I would like to visit the tower to see what happens for myself.”
“Better to visit the library, the study, and my—private rooms. Avoid the tower. I am only thinking of your safety,” he added.
She glanced toward Mrs. Blair, whose needle flashed in and out in the light. “Braemore,” she said softly, “I have visited your bedchamber before and would not hesitate to go there again.” Too late, she realized how that sounded, cheeks burning.
“Aye so?” He cocked a brow; seeing the flash of humor in his eyes, she hoped for affection there too.
“Only because I am determined to send away the ghosts.” She lifted her chin.
“Brave Miss Cameron.”
“Is now convenient to visit the tower? With Mrs. Blair on duty, we can hardly visit your private rooms.”
“Very well.” He rose; so did she, looking about for the bonnet and gloves she had removed.
“No need. We are not in the city and are more casual here.”
She nodded, recalling that he sometimes read her thoughts. When he offered his elbow, she took it. The hard muscle beneath the wool was taut, familiar, reassuring. In silly, needful impulse, she wanted to press closer.
“Shall we go through the back garden?” she asked.
“Aye. Be careful as you walk through the tower. It is ruinous.”
“I remember the hazards there quite well, sir.”
“I assure you that this time, I will not be one of them.”
