of skeletal remains this morning." She took a slice of wheat toast, slathered it with raspberry jam, and took a bite, followed by another sip of tea. "I'd like to call a cab and ride into town later this afternoon. Do you suppose Gibbs would come back out? I'll pay him extra."
Almost a smile, but not quite. "I'll be glad to take you in myself. I've a bit of shopping to do for the larder."
"I don't want to be any trouble, Jameson."
"No bother at all, my lady. Let's say, five-ish?"
"I'll be ready. Oh, and one more thing. I'd like to have Dr. Grey assist me with the first inspection of the bones, if it's okay?"
Jameson gave a nod. "I'm sure you'd be better to ask Himself. He's a private sort, you know."
"So I've heard," she said under her breath.
She finished her bowl of porridge and drained her teacup. "What time do you expect His Lordship to get up this morning?"
The corner of Jameson's mouth twitched. "If you're finished, he's awaiting you now, Dr. Monroe."
He walked to the doors leading to the great hall. "Shall we?"
Andi wiped her mouth and followed Jameson with enthusiasm. "Lead the way, Jameson." Time to face the crusty old battle-ax.
Chapter Four
Andi followed Jameson across the great hall and up the wide, stone steps leading to the second floor. They made their way through the bowels of the castle, as Jameson had put it. They'd be meeting in the solar. She was more than ready to begin her work.
At the end of the corridor they turned left, then wound their way across the keep. The lanterns cast a luminous glow to the ancient stone walls. A few more tapestries hung here and there, but were scarcer on what Jameson called the west side of the castle.
Finally coming to a dead end, Jameson stopped, pulled open a door, and held it open for Andi. She stepped in, her sneakers squeaking on the circular stone stairs as she began the climb. One lantern, perched way above them, lit the stairwell.
Andi peered into the dimness. Shadows flickered against the walls, giving a completely wonderful medieval effect. At the end of the steps stood another door. She waited for Jameson to enter and announce her. It surprised her to find her heart pounded a little faster than usual. Maybe she should have dressed more appropriate? After all, she was about to meet an English lord. Too late now, Monroe.
Jameson glanced at Andi, raised an eyebrow, then pushed open the heavy wooden door. He stepped in first and cleared his throat. "Lord Dreadmoor," he announced, "Dr. Monroe is here to speak with you."
Andi peered into the room over Jameson's narrow shoulder.
"Send her in and close the door."
She jumped. Jameson didn't even flinch. "As you wish, my lord." Jameson led Andi into the room, then turned and left her alone. With him.
Her breath hitched in her throat as Lord Dreadmoor rose from his place behind a massive oak desk.
Some battle-ax.
Andi swallowed—hard. Good Lord, she wasn't usually so nervous when meeting new people. The battle-ax didn't look or sound at all like, well, an old battle-ax.
Virile. Healthy. Massive. Lordly. Mouthwateringly gorgeous. Not at all like the wheezing old eccentric geezer she'd conjured in her mind. The black T-shirt barely fit shoulder to shoulder, stretching taut against massive chunks of muscle. Hips snuggled within a pair of worn and comfortable-looking jeans, his long, dark hair tied back—nope, not a battle-ax. His deep, raspy voice sounded like a strange combination of Britain's English and, if her years of studying medieval languages were correct, French-Norman. That odd combination of accents suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
"Dr. Monroe?"
Inwardly, she cringed. How unprofessional, Andrea. Come on, now. No ogling. Stepping closer to the polished desk, she smiled. "Yes. I apologize. You're ... not what I expected." She extended her hand and met his gaze. "It's very nice to meet—"
Lord Dreadmoor retracted and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Andi gasped, and she felt her face
Almost a smile, but not quite. "I'll be glad to take you in myself. I've a bit of shopping to do for the larder."
"I don't want to be any trouble, Jameson."
"No bother at all, my lady. Let's say, five-ish?"
"I'll be ready. Oh, and one more thing. I'd like to have Dr. Grey assist me with the first inspection of the bones, if it's okay?"
Jameson gave a nod. "I'm sure you'd be better to ask Himself. He's a private sort, you know."
"So I've heard," she said under her breath.
She finished her bowl of porridge and drained her teacup. "What time do you expect His Lordship to get up this morning?"
The corner of Jameson's mouth twitched. "If you're finished, he's awaiting you now, Dr. Monroe."
He walked to the doors leading to the great hall. "Shall we?"
Andi wiped her mouth and followed Jameson with enthusiasm. "Lead the way, Jameson." Time to face the crusty old battle-ax.
Chapter Four
Andi followed Jameson across the great hall and up the wide, stone steps leading to the second floor. They made their way through the bowels of the castle, as Jameson had put it. They'd be meeting in the solar. She was more than ready to begin her work.
At the end of the corridor they turned left, then wound their way across the keep. The lanterns cast a luminous glow to the ancient stone walls. A few more tapestries hung here and there, but were scarcer on what Jameson called the west side of the castle.
Finally coming to a dead end, Jameson stopped, pulled open a door, and held it open for Andi. She stepped in, her sneakers squeaking on the circular stone stairs as she began the climb. One lantern, perched way above them, lit the stairwell.
Andi peered into the dimness. Shadows flickered against the walls, giving a completely wonderful medieval effect. At the end of the steps stood another door. She waited for Jameson to enter and announce her. It surprised her to find her heart pounded a little faster than usual. Maybe she should have dressed more appropriate? After all, she was about to meet an English lord. Too late now, Monroe.
Jameson glanced at Andi, raised an eyebrow, then pushed open the heavy wooden door. He stepped in first and cleared his throat. "Lord Dreadmoor," he announced, "Dr. Monroe is here to speak with you."
Andi peered into the room over Jameson's narrow shoulder.
"Send her in and close the door."
She jumped. Jameson didn't even flinch. "As you wish, my lord." Jameson led Andi into the room, then turned and left her alone. With him.
Her breath hitched in her throat as Lord Dreadmoor rose from his place behind a massive oak desk.
Some battle-ax.
Andi swallowed—hard. Good Lord, she wasn't usually so nervous when meeting new people. The battle-ax didn't look or sound at all like, well, an old battle-ax.
Virile. Healthy. Massive. Lordly. Mouthwateringly gorgeous. Not at all like the wheezing old eccentric geezer she'd conjured in her mind. The black T-shirt barely fit shoulder to shoulder, stretching taut against massive chunks of muscle. Hips snuggled within a pair of worn and comfortable-looking jeans, his long, dark hair tied back—nope, not a battle-ax. His deep, raspy voice sounded like a strange combination of Britain's English and, if her years of studying medieval languages were correct, French-Norman. That odd combination of accents suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
"Dr. Monroe?"
Inwardly, she cringed. How unprofessional, Andrea. Come on, now. No ogling. Stepping closer to the polished desk, she smiled. "Yes. I apologize. You're ... not what I expected." She extended her hand and met his gaze. "It's very nice to meet—"
Lord Dreadmoor retracted and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Andi gasped, and she felt her face
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