“The bend in the river,” she blurted, glancing up at him, then away once more. “If the sphaera did fall off the backside of the roof and into the river, there’s nothing to say it sunk immediately.” She slowly raised her eyes to his. “Gold is heavy, of course, but if it didn’t sink into the mud, that meant it was swept downstream.”
Phin’s eyes widened.
“To the bend in the river,” he whispered.
Nodding eagerly, she pulled one hand from his to point as she turned slightly.
“See? We knew where the river turned, but we just didn’t know why it was relevant. There could be all sorts of artifacts buried in the mud there, instead of along the backside of the ruins.”
“And if the sphaera isnae among them, that means—”
“Either it didn’t fall into the river, or it’s somewhere along the bank between the two!” she finished excitedly.
“And we’ll just excavate the entire riverbank until we find it!”
She was beaming. “It won’t be too difficult, because we know exactly how far down we need to dig, and—”
He didn’t give her time to finish, but swept her up in his arms with a loud whoop, and spun her around. Luckily, she began to laugh before pounding at his shoulders to be released, and his grin threatened to shear his face in two.
The toes of her boots touched the ground, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he kept her there in the circle of his arms, and he beamed down at her.
“Ye really are brilliant, love. A real archaeologist.”
This time she didn’t look away.
“I owe it to you.” The blush started again. “You’ve taught me so much.”
It was near impossible not to waggle his brows and comment on what sort of things he’d taught her, but he tried to keep the moment serious.
“I’d like to teach ye more,” he said gently, “as a partner.”
“A…partner? What kind of partner?”
He had to grin at the suspicious tone in her voice.
“Oh, in all sorts of things. But I need a dig partner to start with.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Ye see, I’ve been invited to look for a particular artifact—”
“The Roman chalice in the Holy Land,” she said flatly. “I read your letter.”
“Oh good, then ye ken as much as I do.” He tried to keep his tone light and teasing. “Will ye help me, Olive? Will ye go to London with me, to the Society, and meet with the Board? I ken they’d be thrilled to meet their newest author, and I want ye to have all the information I’ll have before we leave on our adventure.”
She was quiet for a moment, before repeating in a small voice, “We?”
“Aye, lass,” he whispered. “I want ye to go with me. I want ye to be my archaeological partner. I want—I need—yer help and yer brilliant mind. Please come adventuring with me?”
Something sparkled behind her spectacles. He wasn’t sure what the emotion was, but it was intense, and her hands close around his forearms.
“You want me to be your partner? To—to go on an adventure with you?” She sounded breathless. “I’d be adventuring with Aberdeen Jones?”
“Well…” He winced. “I’d rather hoped ye’d consider adventuring with Phineas Prince. I ken ye have a bit of a favorite—”
“Nay— I mean, no.” She apologized for the interruption with a smile and a shrug, her grip turning softer, almost caressing. “I mean, I like Phineas Prince far more,” she finished softly, her cheeks still pink.
But her gaze was direct, and he felt his cock respond to the frank admiration in her gaze.
“I thought…” Now it was time for him to stumble over his words, to bite his tongue while he tried to get his thoughts in order, his gaze still on her lower lip. “I thought, perhaps, if ye were amenable…we might stop in Scotland on our way to London.”
“But…Scotland isn’t on the way to London. It’s north of here.”
He took a deep breath. “Aye, but the marriage laws are much simpler in Scotland. We could become partners in every sense. We could adventure together, no’ as Aberdeen Jones and his assistant, but Mr. and Mrs. Phineas Prince.”
Her eyes had widened, and her mouth dropped open. “You’re—you’re proposing to me?”
Why was she so surprised?
“What did ye expect— Nay, dinnae answer that. Ye thought I was going to bed ye—experience the most absolute bliss of my life, thankyeverramuch—then go gallivanting off on some adventure without ye? Without yer brilliant mind and brilliant hands and wonderful wit and—and— Why are ye looking at me like that?”
“You can’t want to marry me!”
“Why no’?” He frowned.
“Because!” she wailed. “You don’t even love me!”
He burst into laughter. “Olive, love, of course I do. I’ve told ye many times.”
With a gasp, she pulled her hand from his and jabbed him in the chest. “You did not. You did not, Phineas Prince! I would remember that!”
For the first time, her lack of response to his declarations began to make sense, and his grin was slow, lazy. “Olive, I told ye while I was inside ye. Ye really didnae hear me say it?”
She was frowning thoughtfully now. “I heard ye say my name many times, then trail off.”
“Och, aye?” He couldn’t hold back his teasing tone. “And what did I say?”
“Well, ‘Olive, ye…’ and then you’d trail off.”
He leaned forward and very gently brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I love ye.”
“Neptune’s slimy balls, I love ye! Olive ye!” She groaned and dropped her forehead against his shoulder, realizing how similar her name sounded to I love. “I can’t believe I’m so stupid!”
Chuckling now, he pressed his cheek to her temple. “No’ stupid, love, but perhaps short-sighted. Ye really thought I would make love to ye without being in love with— Nay, dinnae answer that either, it’ll likely hurt my estimation of mankind. Instead, tell me where ye learned such a curse.”
“I’m inventive,” came her muffled response.
“That ye are. But Neptune doesnae have legs, so his bollocks—”
Her head jerked upright, and she glared at him. “I meant his slimy sphaera.”
He chuckled again, accepting her obvious attempt to cover her gaffe. “I love ye, Olive L’arbre. Olive tree, my favorite kind of tree.” He leaned toward her. “Marry me? Please?”
Slowly, her expression turned from irritation to wonder. “You really do love me? As much as I love you?”
His heart gave a happy little lurch and he had to refrain from squeezing her too tightly. “Well, I dinnae ken that, because this is the first I’ve heard of ye loving me—”
With a laugh, she pulled her arms free of his embrace and tossed them around his neck, interrupting him when she pulled his lips down to meet hers.
It was a simple kiss, one between partners, and over far too soon.
“I love you, Phineas Prince,” she whispered against his lips, her gaze holding his despite the nearness. “I’ve loved Aberdeen Jones for years, dreaming of going adventuring with him, but you…” She grinned. “Well, the real version of him is so much better. I love you, and I would be delighted—no, honored to go adventuring with you.”
He stood grinning down at her, holding her in his arms as the afternoon sun slowly burned off the dampness from the earlier—life-changing—storm. “Ye’ll be my wife?”
“Yes, Phineas. I’ll even marry you in Scotland, for simplicity’s sake, assuming my brother—”
“He’s agreed,” Phin was quick to promise her. “I asked him last week, and he said I was likely the only man alive who could keep ye busy and yer brain satisfied for the rest of yer life.”
When she chuckled, he felt her chest move against his. “I suspect you’re the only one who could keep me satisfied in other manners as well.”
With a low growl, he lowered his lips to hers once more.
There was nothing simple about
this kiss.
When, gasping, they eventually straightened, they were both grinning. “So when can we leave, Olive?”
“Not quite yet, my love.”
He blinked, then frowned. “Ye dinnae want to marry me?”
“I dinnae want to go to Scotland yet,” she drawled in a credible imitation of his brogue, “until we have something to deliver to yer estate.”
Understanding slowly dawned and he eased his hold on her, allowing them to step apart. “The golden sphaera.”
She nodded, her gaze darting around the fledgling dig site. “We need to find it, Phineas. So we can deliver it to your—our—collection. The perfect pair.”
Grinning at the “our,” Phin held out his hand to her. “The perfect pair,” he repeated. “Partners.”
“Partners,” she whispered softly, slipping her hand into his.
“Well then, partner…” He tugged her toward the grid she’d already staked out. “Let’s get digging!”
Epilogue
They were both holding their breaths as Olive carefully place the second golden sphaera on the velvet cushion beside its partner. The pair held the place of honor in Phineas’s study, resting in a specially built glass case he’d prepared when he’d obtained the first one.
But now they were both where they belonged.
She heard him exhale as she stepped back, and he slipped his hand into hers. “Beautiful, Mrs. Prince.”
“They’re identical. No one can deny they belong together,” she agreed.
“Just like us.”
She tilted her head to one side, peeking up at him with a smile. “Aye, husband,” she drawled. “Just like us.”
It had taken another week of excavations to find the second sphaera, but it was only about twenty feet from the bend in the ancient river where she’d hypothesized the current had deposited it. What had caused such a delay was the storms, but neither Olive nor Phineas had minded the time they were “stuck” indoors.
No, indeed. It just meant they’d had to get creative with their excuses to sneak away together.
But the delay did give her parents time to travel to York, and they’d joined the house party to celebrate her—and her friends—finding love. When it was time, her parents and Ash had joined the wedding party as they popped over the border to Scotland the previous day. Surrounded by her closest friends and family, Olive had become Mrs. Phineas Prince.
And couldn’t have been happier.
The wedding night they’d spent in the little inn had been a bit anticlimactic, what with the creaking bedframe and the drafty window and the mediocre dinner. But it had been her first night spent cuddled in Phineas’s arms, and that had been worth it.
He’d promised her much better tonight.
“Would ye like a tour?”
She glanced around the study, admiring the artifacts she could see. “Of the manor, or your collection?”
“Either. Both.” He shrugged, almost apologetically. “I had this place built a few years ago because it’s close to the clan’s castle and my father’s estate. I suppose it’ll one day be my brother’s, but I knew I’d be gone more often than not and just wanted a nice place to return to. We dinnae have to be at Newfincy Castle to meet the rest of my family until dinner—they’re excited to meet ye—which means we have a bit of time.”
“And you thought I, as a new wife and mistress of this charming manor house, might like to poke around a bit? Get the lay of the land, so to speak?” she asked mischievously, using the hold on his hand to tug him toward the settee, wondering if she was sashaying her hips quite as well as Charity had showed her.
“Aye, the housekeeper would like to meet ye, of course, and—”
“Phineas.”
He blinked at the interruption. “Aye, lass?”
“Is that the sort of poking about you would like to be doing right now?”
Perhaps it was the use of the word “poking,” but he understood her meaning, judging by the way his expression melted into a wicked grin.
“Nay, lass,” he growled, his arms snaking around her.
She was still wearing her traveling gown after the hours on the train, but he didn’t seem to mind. Arching her back, she made certain her breasts brushed against him, as she held his gaze.
“I am newly married, Phineas. I can be forgiven for only thinking about my husband.”
“Fair enough, love,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot below her ear. “Because I think about ye constantly. And that thing ye do with yer mouth.”
Olive bit her lower lip.
“Aye, that.”
“Do you think… That is, there is a perfectly good settee here, and I noticed you locked the door.”
His hands were already reaching for the buttons of her gown. “I keep a skeleton staff, and they ken no’ to interrupt me when I’m hard at work.”
When he flexed his hips, she knew exactly what kind of hard he meant, and her gasp turned to a moan. “And I’m work?”
“Love, ye’re my favorite work project. My grandest adventure.”
She smiled when he leaned her back against the settee. “I love you, Phineas.”
Glancing up from where he was kneeling on the floor between her legs, he gave her a grin full of love and pride. “And I love ye, my wee scholar. Now shut up and let me prove it.”
So she did.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
On Historical Accuracy
Where to start?
Look, the whole damn thing’s made up, alright? Pretty much everything—the Roman stuff, the Society, the settlement along River Derwent near York.
Well, actually, that could be real. I dunno.
If you’ve ever read any of my books, you know I’m here for the RomCom and the crazy situations I keep getting my characters into. But this one in particular was gobs of fun, because it’s a tie-in to my popular Highlander Ever After series, which is itself a spin-off of my medieval comedies.
The Lass Who Kissed a Frog and The Lass Who Loved a Beast feature Phin’s brothers, and the golden sphaera is a verra important plot point, which I will not spoil for you. Suffice it to say my version of The Princess and the Frog required a golden ball, so I made up this completely fictional Roman architectural element, which was occasionally made of gold, and for which Phineas Prince was willing to pay top dollar (top quid?).
And of course, in this story, Phin needs a partner to help him find the second one, merely so I could make jokes about “balls coming in pairs.”
Okay, so the sphaera is made up (although convincing!) as is its location along Roman roof ridges. What’s not made up is the mind-numbing meticulousness of an archaeological dig (unless you’re one of those weirdos who likes that sort of thing, cough-ME-cough) and the way the dig would’ve been staked out. Each layer of dirt is removed inch-by-inch (Ha! I’m kidding. More like centimeter-by-centimeter) in painstaking record so historians who come later can refer to our detailed maps and charts.
Yeah, archaeology was my first love before I realized I could apply my history degrees to writing fun romance stories!
Aberdeen Jones and his Adventures are, of course, based on a particularly popular motion-picture combat archaeologist, and done so with the utmost love and respect. I hope you picked up on all the movie references, and had fun with the Easter eggs I sprinkled throughout.
I remember, as a kid, being glued to the TV when Raiders of the Lost Ark was shown, and I still credit that vaguely-racist banquet scene in Temple of Doom as being the start of my adventurous palate.
The point is, I used to idolize these stories, and the title of my grad-school acceptance essay was “Why I want to be Indiana Jones when I grow up.” I still haven’t achieved that goal (read on!) but to be fair, I still haven’t grown up yet either.
Heh. Boobies.
Okay, back to business.
So, speaking of Indiana/Aberdeen Jones, I think I’d be remiss if we didn’t talk a
bout the difference between archaeology and, well…looting. A lot of Aberdeen’s adventures sound a lot like the latter, don’t they? I mean, running through the jungle from a bunch of angry people with blow darts, determined to keep him from acquiring a local idol? Sounds pretty sketchy to our modern ears.
During the Victorian era, however, archaeologists and adventurers were gallivanting all over the world, returning to England with precious artifacts, where “precious” means both inherent monetary value and cultural meaning. These adventures built generations of support for history and study, but at the expense of the original owners. Think of the Elgin Marbles, still on display at the British Museum (okay, those were early 1800s) or the works and findings of E.A. Wallace Budge, which any student of Egyptology has read. (Actually, no offense to old Wally, but they’re about as dry as his mummies. Ha!)
The argument, of course, is the more artifacts in museums and public collections, the more accessible the culture is to students and historians. However, each culturally significant piece removed from its home means that culture loses one more connection to its past.
In fact, there’s a movement in modern archaeology called “no collection” where the objects are studied in situ, recorded meticulously for others to experience, but not removed. Annalisa Heppner, an archaeologist with the Haffenreffer Museum of Anthropology, recently was interviewed in an article for the Smithsonian Magazine in which she passionately tells us, “There isn’t a single object that belongs in a museum. Objects belong with their communities.”
Well.
Hm.
I’ll bet you didn’t expect scientific citations in an author’s note that began with, “I made it all up, mwa-ha-ha-ha!” But I guess I was determined to teach you something.
The point is, while Aberdeen Jo—I mean, Phineas Prince’s—methods and adventures seem a little cringey to us today, they were normal for the time. His exploits would’ve been very popular reading, and he would’ve been lauded for the items he brought back.
In these days, we might disagree with his choices, but it’s impossible to deny a lot of the scholars we still read today collected their information on archaeological expeditions very much like the ones Phin describes.
The Scholar and the Scot Page 13