Hadn’t she just said that? He was likely in shock his scheme had been discovered.
“Yes. Every episode.” She tried to tug her hands away, but his hold tightened. “I subscribe to the Journal of the Society of Archaeology.” She tugged again, but still he didn’t release her. Beginning to panic, she blurted, “I have even submitted an article.”
Thatworked. He looked up at her and loosened his hold. But the admiration she saw in his expression—not guilt or irritation—distracted her enough that she forgot to pull her hands from his.
“What was your article about, Olive?”
My, his hands were warm, weren’t they? And somehow, she feltsafehere with him. “Roman roofs and eaves, with a section on ridgelines,” she said shyly, ducking her chin.
But she kept her gaze on him and saw the moment his admiration turned to a direct smile. “Ye are a remarkable woman, are ye no’?”
How was she supposed to respond to that? He thought she was remarkable?
Oh.
Suddenly, Phineas nodded firmly. “Ye are correct. I am a subscriber to the Journal of the Society of Archaeology as well and have had many articles published.”
Now it was her turn to be surprised. “Really? I have never read an article by a Phineas Oliphant.”
His smile was lopsided as he shrugged, releasing one of her hands. She felt strangely bereft and not sure what to do with her free hand now. She tried placing it on her hip, but that felt awkward, so she left it to dangle.
“I write under a different name,” he said, and she’d been so distracted by the issue of the awkward flapping hand, it took her a moment to go back through their recent conversation.
“A different name,” she repeated, noticing some heads were turned their way.
People would talk about this little tête-à-tête, wouldn’t they? She jerked her hand from his, which at least allowed her to fold her hands in front of her demurely.
Ah, problem solved.
“I am a scholar, it’s true,” he was saying, as he glanced around the room. “But I’ve also made myself some wealth through investments, which is really just applying what I know of markets. But my real passion is travel.”
Travel. The chance to see the world!
Something she only dreamed of.
Still not looking at her, he said, “I’ve been all over the world, Olive, studying cultures and having adventures.”
Frantically, Olive wracked her brain, trying to remember which of the journal’s academic contributors traveled the world. He was staring at the dancing couples, and when she glanced up, she was struck by the strength in his jaw and the determination in his brow.
All over the world…having adventures.
A suspicion began to creep over her, and Olive bit her bottom lip.Hard.
Before she could ask what name he wrote under, Phineas clasped his hands behind his back and shifted his weight, drawing her attention—accidentally—downward to his kilt.
“My father didnae approve of me gallivanting all over, no’ at first. He still thinks it’s ridiculous, so I chose a sobriquet before I began to publish my adventures.”
So hedidwrite under a different name.
“Which name did you choose?” she all-but-hissed, praying her suspicion was wrong, while at the same time, she hoped it was right.
He glanced down at her, then again at the dancing couples, his jaw tight as he confessed. “The most common name I could think of.Jones.”
Jones.
As in…Aberdeen Jones?
“Aberdeen?” she managed to choke in disbelief.
