“My cheek is still tender.”
“I hate seeing that bruise on you,” he said in all seriousness.
“It was nothing. Your cut was worse. Did Dr. O’Neil check it?”
“No need. It’s fine.” He searched over a shelf, closing the conversation.
If he didn’t want to be pestered about the cut. Fine. She wouldn’t insist. She crouched to check the floor. “Kettle! Please.”
Not even a hiss could be heard.
She walked on, stopping every time a shadow flickered. At the end of the aisle, they turned to the next one.
“You’ve been busy.” She checked the space behind a vase.
“Repairing the locomotive proved to be a longer and more expensive affair than I’d thought.” He tilted his head up towards the top shelves. “Thank you for keeping Rowan company. He isn’t in a good mood, is he?”
“I don’t blame him. He can’t walk without crutches and seems rather lonely.” She paused in the middle of the section on botany. “If I may say something.”
“You don’t need my permission.”
“Can’t you find the time to be with him? He needs you.”
“I tried, and he asked me to leave. But I’ll try again. You’re right. I spend the evenings with him, but I guess it’s not enough, and to be honest, he doesn’t speak much when I’m with him.”
“Why?”
He gave a little shrug, but she wasn’t fooled. The way he lowered his eyelashes belied his pretended nonchalance. “He’s intimidated by me.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up before he turned serious. “I think that’s Kettle. Over there!” He made a dash for the other end of the aisle.
She caught the view of a furry ball darting away. “Kettle!”
They both skidded to a stop on the polished floor at the end of the aisle. She gazed around. Pots of rhododendrons, marble busts of ancient philosophers, and a couple of armchairs crammed that corner. No black cat.
“He was there.” He turned around, an incredulous expression on his face. “He vanished.”
“Welcome into my world.”
He exhaled, hands on his hips. “That’s why I prefer horses. Obedient and easy to train.”
“No need to be harsh on cats. It’s not a cat-astrophe.” She laughed, but he didn’t crack a smile. “Oh, come on. It was a silly joke, but you could smile. You really work too much.”
“Sorry if I’m notfelinehappy today.”
She stared at him with her mouth open. “My goodness. Have you just made a joke?”
“I do work too much.”
They both laughed. To her surprise, that was the first time she’d heard him laugh with abandon. His face transformed from cold to warm in a moment. He looked more handsome when the worry lines on his brow smoothed.
“Two adults beaten by a cat.” He kept searching. “He can’t be far.”
“I’m sorry about your locomotive.” She followed him down another aisle, this one on husbandry. “I hope they find the thug who put the bomb at the station.”
He didn’t say anything, but his mood changed again.
