A Man Of Many Talents by Deborah Simmons Page B

nothing, simply lifted his brows in silent query at his hostess. Would she thwart his simplest efforts to investigate? Why had she sent for him, if not for this purpose? Had he ever known a more frustrating female?
    “I’ll fetch them,” she said with a brisk nod, and Christian stepped back to allow her to move past him. As she slipped by, he caught a whiff of lilacs, and he nearly reached out to draw her back. Gad, sometime he was going to plant himself next to her and just breathe. Or plant himself inside her. It was a startling thought that he immediately dismissed. Miss Parkinson definitely was not his sort of female, and besides, he had no intention of bedding a seemingly virtuous governess-type. Despite his pirate ancestry, he still had some honor.
    But a man could dream.
    Christian sighed, then tore his eyes away from those gently swaying hips long enough to turn toward the colonel. “I’ll be right back,” he said. Ignoring the older man’s sputtering questions, he followed his hostess, albeit at a discreet distance. When she disappeared up the main stairway, he waited, hoping to catch her alone at the bottom when she returned. Strictly for business purposes, of course.
    She was efficient, naturally, and was back in good time, only to pause when she became aware of Christian standing at the bottom. He smiled cordially and held out his hand, ostensibly for the keys. She ignored it, managing to sort of sidle past his arm and stop a few steps away, so that she was positioned just a little bit higher than he. Christian’s pirate instincts urged him to toss her over his shoulder, but unfortunately the veneer of civilization precluded such antics in this day and age. In England, anyway. Perhaps a visit to the East Indies was called for …
    “Yes, my lord?” Miss Parkinson said, looking down her lovely nose at him.
    Christian savored the words, imagining them in a different context entirely. He held out his hand again. “I’ve come for the keys.”
    “Yes, well, I’m not sure which is which, you see,” she said, prevaricating. Obviously, she didn’t want to accompany Christian to the dim great hall. Alone.
    “I’ll just take the whole ring. I shall need the keys to all the rooms, anyway,” he said, flashing a smooth smile.
    “I think not!” his hostess protested.
    Christian admired the delicate rose color that bloomed in her cheeks. Was she thinking what he was thinking? Probably not. Unfo rtunately. “How else am I to… expose the specter?”
    “I assure you that the ghost has never been seen in my rooms!” she answered tartly.
    “Still, you want me to explore all avenues, don’t you?” Christian asked innocently. “What if he should appear there?”
    “Then I shall deal with him!” she replied in her best Governess voice, and for some reason Christian delighted in the frown she gave him. Really, he must have been fawned over far too much in his lifetime, if he found her behavior stimulating. Yet somehow he did.
    He sighed his disappointment as she brushed by him, but if he was not to have the keys, at least he would have her, since she would not part with them. “Unless I am mistaken, the hall is this way,” he said, turning in question.
    But his hostess ignored him. “Colonel!” she called in a rather panicked fashion as she headed back toward the drawing room. Christian watched with a smile. Now, why was his stalwart Governess running like a scared rabbit? Did the thought of being alone with him so unnerve her?
    Christian shook his head as he followed, tagging along as she rather breathlessly brandished the keys at the colonel, while still hanging on to them for dear life. Then they all trudged back to the great hall, where Christian stood as close as politeness allowed while Miss Parkinson tried one key after another, in one door and the next.
    None of them worked.
    “May I?” Christian asked.
    His hostess was not pleased, giving him a frown that told him so in no uncertain terms,