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amazing parade of antiques as he
followed Worthington up the stairs and down the hallway to what was
apparently the guest room. An enormous canopied bed with thick, velvet
bed curtains sat prominently against the wall, accompanied by other
heavy pieces of furniture.
    Gems he could identify in a low-light jungle loaded with spiders and
snakes crawling happily around him, and he could certainly pick out the
age of the odd sword or weapon, thanks to Alistair's nose for it, but
antiques were not his forte. He did have eyes, however, and that was
all it took to realize what he was looking at was very old and in
amazingly good condition.
    "Nice," he said sincerely.
    "The master does not slight his guests," Worthington said.
    "Isn't he afraid some stranger's going to make off with his nice
antiques?"
    Worthington looked at him for a long moment, then chuckled.
    It was, Jake decided, a very unwholesome sound.
    "Make off with?" he echoed. "No, sir, the master doesn't worry about
that. He has a very unique security system."
    Jake looked around. "Cameras in every room?"
    Worthington only backed out the door. "The chamber is ensuite, of
course. Refresh yourself and I'll bring up your bag. And as for my
lord's retainers, why they're ghosts, didn't you know?"
    Jake laughed, but it sounded quite hollow, even to his own ears. He
waited until Worthington had shut the door before he permitted himself
a really good shiver. Whatever the rumors were and however true they
might or might not have been, one thing was for certain: Seakirk gave
him the creeps.
    He went to the bathroom, feeling entirely observed while he was at
it, then returned to the bedroom a new and more realistic man. He
didn't believe in ghosts. It was probably just a good way to drum up
business for Seakirk's lord.
    Though given that Seakirk's lord was a recluse and apparently had no
need for business to be drummed up on his behalf, the rumor was rather
unsettling.
    Worthington's discreet tap on the door a few minutes later almost
sent him through the roof. He took a deep breath, then went to answer
the door. He accepted his overnight bag from the butler and learned
that there would be something appearing on the table downstairs quite
soon. He watched Worthington back out of the room and disappear behind
a rapidly closing door.
    How long was it before he could politely go downstairs, and what
would it do to his own image of masculinity if he just bolted there
now?
    Deciding there wasn't anyone around to pass judgment on him if he
did the prudent thing and caught a good place at the table early, he
left the room and headed down to the great hall himself.
    Dinner was excellent.
    It was also much too short.
    Jake expressed what he hoped was an appropriate amount of
appreciation. Worthington was, as was apparently his custom, quite
unmoved by either the flattery or the speed with which Jake wolfed down
his meal. He merely stood at attention, not a silver hair out of place,
and waited patiently.
    Jake did the sensible thing and toyed with the remains of a lovely
chocolate mousse as long as possible. "Does the family have quite a few
children?" he asked conversationally.
    "Triplet boys, seven years old," Worthington said with nary a
flinch. "Two more lads and then a wee girl."
    "Good grief!" Jake exclaimed. "The poor kid."
    Worthington only lifted one eyebrow. "Young mistress Adelaide Anne
is the loudest of the lot."
    Jake descended with him into comfortable silence for quite some
time. "When do they return?" he asked finally.
    "On the morrow, perhaps."
    "Then I should leave you to your peace and quiet. I appreciate the
meal."
    Worthington nodded and began to clear the plates. "I do have an
assignation, sir, so I do appreciate that."
    "An assignation?" Jake asked, smothering a smile. What an
old-fashioned term for it.
    "A discreet pint down at the pub with a certain Mistress Adelaide,"
Worthington confided carefully. "She owns an antique shop in the
village."
    "I like antiques."
    "So I