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The next instant, the stone steps caught her eye."
    "Those steps are quite treacherous, my lord."
    Tristan frowned. "I know that. 'Twasn't as though I invited her in. But in she went anyway, of her own accord." He waved his hand in the air. "Then her foot went through a crumbling step and she nearly fell. There she was, stuck and flailing about, with no one around ... save my bloody, useless self."

    "How—"
    "I followed her from the barbican, and had even attempted to frighten her off with a few crisp gusts of wind. But the wench was determined." He looked at Jameson and shrugged. "I had no choice but to appear before her and talk her out of the situation. She was nigh onto breaking her skinny neck."
    Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. "If only that were the whole of it." He peered at Jameson. "She made a grab for me, and before I could retreat, she ..." He closed his eyes. "Her hand fell through me."
    "Oh dear. This does change things a bit."
    "Aye." Tristan paced in front of the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped and whirled around. "I've got it. Tell her I've come down with the ague, and I mustn't see anyone in my weakened condition." He walked over to the fireplace and extinguished the flame with another flick of his wrist. "The small room at the end of the corridor will be suitable, I suppose. You can tell her that is my chamber, and it is not to be entered at any cost—physician's orders. My solar is to be kept locked at all times, for I doubt these past years have been long enough to douse her curiosity."
    Tristan came to stand in front of Jameson once more. "Got it?"
    " 'Tis a broom closet, my lord."
    Tristan frowned. "I know that. She, on the other hand, does not."
    " 'Twould be a simple excursion to the west tower for her to find your solar."
    "Aye, and 'twill be your duty to make sure she does not." Tristan drew a deep breath. "I do not want her meddling in any other aspect of my business, save what she was hired for. I've no idea whose bones are lying about my bailey, but mayhap we'll recognize the weapons. Other than that, I've no interest in her. I've had privacy for over seven centuries. I prefer it that way. Besides, the lads are already restless. They don't relish having to hide whilst she is about. Nor do I."
    Jameson shook his head. "I do not think you will be able to fool Dr. Monroe. She seems quite bright, my lord. But ..."
    Tristan frowned. "But what?"
    "I don't know, sir, but I think you should consider changing your attire befitting to a modern-day young lord and face her directly, as planned." He brushed his cuff. "You look as average as I, you know. 'Tis only you have no substance."
    Tristan grimaced. "I need no reminder of that, Jameson."
    "I'm sorry, sir. No disrespect intended. Only stating the facts." His wise gaze met Tristan's. "She was a young girl before, and you appeared in your mail. Certainly, she'll think you a different sort, dressed in modern-day clothing."
    Tristan walked to the hearth. "I just don't know, man. What if I bumble through a wall and she sees I'm not, well, of the living?" He shook his head. Not that it'd stopped him from getting close to her before. "Let me think on the matter. I shall let you know on the morrow."
    Jameson headed for the larder. "Very well, my lord, but don't ponder it overmuch. She's asked on your whereabouts more than once. Quite anxious, that one. Now, I'm off to the kitchen. Dr. Monroe will be down shortly for her supper, and I don't want her to have to wait." With that he strode away.
    "You're taken with her, old man."
    Jameson didn't even bother to turn around. "I most certainly am, my lord."
    Tristan glowered at his steward's retreating back, frowned a good, lordly frown, and then disappeared through the wall.
    Jameson had it aright. Things were about to become quite interesting at Dreadmoor Keep.

    Andi stepped out of the tub and quickly dried off. Wrapping the thick, white towel around her, she inspected the