Sizzle All Day Read Online Free PDF

fast enough to catch birds. Although Jake had to admit, even on two legs and dragging a hind end, she was still faster than most men. The dog was actually quite amazing.
    And hungry, judging by the way she'd caught a scent and was scooting off.
    "Whoa there, pooch." He stepped after her, reaching into his jacket for the rope sling he'd fashioned from a long strip of sheeting to assist her mobility. Slipping it under her belly, he lifted her rear quarters from the ground and she took off, dragging Jake along with her.
    They wound up at what he deduced from the aroma to be the door to the kitchen. Within minutes, a playful Scooter had secured for herself not only a bowl of choice table scraps, but also a nice warm spot in front of the fire. Still chilled from the early morning cold, Jake was tempted to plop down beside his dog. The scandalized cook wouldn't hear of it, however.
    "Just like Miss Gilly," the matron said, ducking her tongue. "She always has preferred to eat here. When will you gentry learn to act like gentry?"
    "Who is Miss Gilly?"
    She ignored the question and continued. "Guests will eat in the dining room. You will find a cheery fire built in the hairth and our breakfast is superb, if I'm allowed to boast a bit. I suggest the Arbroath smokie this morning. It is a fine bite of fish."
    Jake knew a losing argument when staring down the wooden spoon at one, so he offered a rueful grin and said, "The food and fire sound wonderful, but could you tell me how to get to it without going back outside? It's colder than a banker's heart out there."
    A kitchen maid flashed him a flirtatious smile and said, "I can show him up the servant's stairs, Mrs. Ferguson. That is the quickest way."
    "Excellent," Jake hastened to say when Mrs. Ferguson appeared to hesitate. Along with finding the fireplace more quickly, this might give him the opportunity to clandestinely study the young woman's shape for the purpose of eliminating her as a spirit suspect. Every woman at Rowanclere was a possibility. Except for Mrs. Dunbar, that is. Jake's headless lady had no baby growing beneath the most lovely breasts Scooter had managed to reveal.
    The flirtatious young kitchen maid—whom he quickly deduced was not his ghost due to an overabundance of hip—chattered like a mockingbird as she led him up the narrow servants' staircase. In short order he learned that the elderly laird of the castle, Angus Ross, was slowly recovering from a lung inflammation, that Mrs. Dunbar's husband loved to fish for salmon, and that Mrs. Ferguson's haggis had won a prize at this year's fair. Other delectables, the girl told him with a wink, could be found in the cottage with green doors and shutters at the north end of the village once dinner duties at Rowanclere were done.
    Jake declined her offer in a well-practiced, roguish manner and she ushered him into Rowanclere's dining room with a regretful sigh.
    He was disappointed to find the room empty. Addressing the maid, he asked, "Before you go, could you tell me where I might find the mistress? I've a question or two to ask her."
    "She took a breakfast tray in the drawing room this morning, sir."
    "Thank you. And please tell Mrs. Ferguson her breakfast does smell delicious."
    As promised, a fire burned in a marble fireplace, and Jake crossed the room toward its welcoming heat. Warming his hands, he eyed the steaming dishes lining the carved mahogany sideboard and gave the air an appreciative sniff. Ham. Eggs. Fresh bread. Something with cinnamon... apples perhaps?
    His hunger aroused, Jake headed for the buffet, but a sound coming from beyond the dining room had him veering out into the hallway. There he stopped and listened again.
    A thud. A bump. And a woman's humming. Coming from the room next door.
    Having strolled toward the sound, he paused at the doorway of a small drawing room. His gaze flicked past the embroidered mahogany chairs, marble-topped tables, and portrait-hung walls to settle upon the delightful