"Alas, I fear you will do yourself further harm if you attempt such a thing without a suitable resting period, my beloved."

I stiffened at the word. Have you gone mad?

There was no capital B in that sentence.

I relaxed again.

"Perhaps you are right, snuggle-bunny. Perhaps a day or two of rest will recharge my mental batteries. I'm sure Mrs. White wouldn't wish for me to blow out anything in my brain because I was trying too hard."

Snuggle-bunny ?

"No, of course not." Guarda looked uncomfortably aware that I had her in a position in which she would rather not have found herself. Ostensibly along to make sure I was taken care of, she couldn't possibly demand that I go back to work right away. I planned on using the couple of days' grace to do a little investigating into just what ARMPIT was up to.

If you promise never to refer to me as a snuggle-bunny again, I will allow you to investigate with me.

Allow? Allow?

It is a dangerous undertaking. I cannot allow you to put your life in jeopardy for my friend.

Allow, Christian?

His sigh brushed my mind. I will withdraw the word if you promise not to pursue any investigations without me.

I thought about it, and decided that he could be of help investigating. Deal.

The car bumped into a small building that served as Christian's garage. He had mentioned to me earlier, on the way to dinner, that the only time he kept a driver was in London. He said something about the annoying lack of available parking. It seems Dark Ones have issues with parking lots. He helped me out of the car with a solicitous arm, Guarda following behind as we crossed the small alley separating the garage and his house. I looked up to the top of the three-story building.

Big house for just one guy.

I require both space and privacy in my living quarters.

Don't worry; you'll have both just as soon as Guarda leaves and I can slip back to my hotel.

There are always exceptions to be made in times of necessity.

I glanced over at him as he held the door open for me, wondering if he meant what I thought he'd meant.

I refused to be swept up in his arms and carried up the stairs to the bedroom. "No, lamby-pot-pie, it's much better if I walk. Slowly. It serves to settle my nerves."

You realize, of course, that lamby-pot-pie constitutes a declaration of war.

I gave him a mental snort, just to see if I could do it. Evidently I could.

"As you desire, most beauteous of all lotus blossoms. If you will take my arm, I will allow your nerves to settle and yet reassure both myself and Mrs. White that you will not come to any harm in your journey up the stairs."

Have you ever thought of going into politics? You're a natural.

Guarda followed us into a huge room done all in shades of sapphire and midnight. A massive curtained and canopied bed dominated the room, drawing the eye and refusing to release it. I stood stupidly and blinked at it a few minutes, wondering if it felt as heavenly as it looked.

Perhaps you will find out for yourself. Christian's voice danced in my head.

I ignored him and tottered over to sink down in a blue silk-draped armchair. "Thank you so much for accompanying us home, Mrs. White. I feel much better just being out of that building. I'm so very excited about the plans you have for the trust. Might I pop in for a visit tomorrow and have a chat about what you see for the future, and how I might fit into it?"

Guarda's smile didn't even come close to reaching her icy blue eyes. "Of course. There is nothing I would like more. Just give me a ring at that number, and my secretary will set up a time." She handed me a card. I smiled at her. Christian raised an eyebrow. She looked as if she wanted to say something further, but realized that to do so wouldn't be in keeping with her pretended concern. "Well, then, I shall leave you alone so you might rest."

"You may be assured that I will see to it that my little kumquat spends the entire night in bed," Christian said with a smoothness that put the silk bed hangings to shame.

You and what army?

"Oh, you silly Mr. Fuzzy-wuzzy," I chirped in return, making myself faintly nauseated in the process.

Guarda looked between the two of us, then nodded her head and allowed Christian to escort her out of the room and, I assumed, the house.

As soon as the bedroom door closed, I leaped out of the chair and commenced pacing and hand wringing, ignoring the great behemoth bed and all that it represented. Christian, I knew, was planning a seduction. It was in every warm caress of his mind against mine, every touch of his body to mine, every sultry-eyed, heated glance. What was worse was that after the kiss that ended with me almost sucking the tongue from his head, I could no longer trust myself to stay calm and cool, as I had been with every other man. Somehow more than just my mental guards failed me when it came to Christian. All my honorable intentions, all my determination never again to let a man have any part of me, just seemed to evaporate under of the influence of those dark, tortured eyes.

The solution to my problem, I decided a few moments later, was to not let myself be alone with him. If he did what I expected him to do—insisted I remain in his house for the evening—I was in grave danger of succumbing to the siren lure of his desire. Therefore, I simply wouldn't put myself in a position where temptation could raise its ugly head.

By the time Christian returned to his room, I was talking with Jem while trying to keep an eye on Alis.

"So you were a waiter in a restaurant? How very interesting. Did you enjoy your job?"

"Not likely," the sullen teenager snapped. "Why'd that man at t'other place 'ave bits an' bobs stabbed through 'is face, then? Was 'e wiv one o' them travelin' shows?"

I smiled brightly at Christian's frown before turning back to the ghost. "You mean the man in the black T-shirt with his eyebrow and nose pierced? That is a fashion common today amongst young people, particularly young people who are rebelling against conformity and society."

Jem didn't look like he believed me. I smiled again. "In other words, he was thumbing his nose at everyone in authority."

"Oh, aye." He nodded, and his spotty face lost a bit of its sullenness as he thought this over.

Christian strolled over to me with the grace of a panther who has spotted a particularly succulent bit of prey.

A comparison more apropos than you know, malý váleèník.

I ignored his silky voice in my head as I turned to him. "You don't happen to speak Welsh, do you? Alis seems to be rather uncommunicative, and refuses to answer me when I try to ask her if she'd like to be Released. I think she's trying to summon enough psychic energy to push over that blue-and-white vase. She seems to be particularly angry at it."

Christian paused long enough to cast a quick glance over to where the squat little woman was standing with her hands on her plentiful hips, nose to rim with a Chinese vase. His eyes turned back to me, and he started forward with a look that raised every hair on my neck.

"No, I do not speak Welsh. Do your inhibitions regarding voyeurism include spirits?"

I started backing up and nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, they do. So if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you can think again. You couldn't possibly wish to damage my psyche by kissing me or… or… anything else in front of them. I'd never forgive you."

"Then I advise you to bind them to your keepers in the next thirty seconds."

"Ye don't 'ave to do nuffin' for me. I'm goin' t' 'ave me a look around town an' see 'ow it's changed." With those words, Jem stuck his head through the wall so he could see the street below.