Free The Ghost and Miss Demure by Melanie Jackson Page B

potatoes!” Karo smiled back, not admitting that she had also had some thoughts about his voice, and then said: “I’ll get out of your room right away. I can do that much for you. You said that there is a guest cottage?”
    “I did and there is, but I don’t think that you should move out there just yet.” He stopped smiling. “I want to keep an eye on you for a little while longer. You can move out tomorrow if you really want.”
    The charming buffoon was gone, and the man who had replaced him looked to have formidable potential as a tyrant lordling. His voice was calm and unconsciously edged with a tone of authority. He had said last night that his family was all “Rule, Britannia” and the Union Jack. She believed him; only one born to the manor could be so exquisitely polite while being bossy.
    “I can’t blame you for thinking that way,” she said, feeling color creep into her cheeks.
    “Excellent sense.”
    “But truly, I’m fine now.”
    “Probably. But I’ll feel better if you stay in the main house for another day or two.” When Karo didn’t answer, he put down his mug and looked at her seriously. “You aren’t going to make me pull rank first thing, are you? Be sensible. Right now I’m sorting though the accumulation of junk—I mean, taking an inventory of the main house’s contents—and it is filthy work. You have a shower at the cottage, but it has no water pressure and it’s cold. Also, I can’t swear that I’ve killed all the micein the chimney who have spent the last thirty years building a palatial nest. And, flooding always brings out the snakes.” He added this last as a clincher.
    Karo stared at Tristam English. He wasn’t anything like a curator ought to be. Maybe that was because he saw himself as more of a carnival shill than a dedicated academic. Whatever the case, if she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that she didn’t mind staying close to this charming, strange man while she sorted through the refuse of Belle Ange looking for treasures. It would be a lot more fun than her old job.
    On the other hand, he might not be charming at all. It might just be that he possessed super pheromones that were throttling her higher brain functions; and everyone knew that idle brain waves were the devil’s playground. A little caution was in order. Quick pain apparently hadn’t been an efficient teacher the first time around, but the prolonged embarrassment she had suffered on the last job was fairly instructive.
    “I’m not afraid of mice,” she said firmly, trying to read Tristam’s expression to see if he was hurt or offended by the show of strength. A thin skin would be a definite minus in their coming relationship.
    “But you are sensible—at least, when you haven’t been struck by lightning? Or are you afraid of being alone with me, Karo? Do you worry that next time I might bite back?”
    The very gentleness of the inquiry was a waving red cape before her wounded ego. Still feeling a bit of the recklessness that had caused her tothrow over her old job, she gave in to her baser impulses with a small laugh. “Okay, I’ll stay. Why not? I guess we can share. I never liked cold showers anyway,” she added, and then blushed at the way that sounded. Should she make it plain that they were sharing a house, not a bedroom? “I’ll help you fix up another room,” she added firmly.
    “Thanks. Herr Frankenstein and I are both grateful. Neither of us is a dab at handling the linens, though he is perhaps slightly better at it than I.”
    “Wait a minute! Let’s not add any sins to my list. I may have implied that the grand entry looked a little like it had been decorated by Edgar Allan Poe on a cocktail of mescaline and acid, but I never said that you were a monster maker.”
    Tristam laughed. “Certainly not. I was referring to the cat. A spoiled creature, an absolute black hole of neediness and gluttony.”
    He jerked a thumb to the left. Karo looked over at