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expecting to find a thread attached to it.
    He didn't.
    "Well, well, well. Maybe you're a better mischief-maker than I thought."
    Five minutes later, breakfast forgotten in the wake of the intriguing mystery, he lay on his back halfway beneath the sideboard, studying the bottom of the furniture. Hearing footsteps, he twisted his head to see the swish of lavender skirts revealing a pair of trim, graceful ankles. And, to his masculine dismay, a pair of shoes.
    "Mr. Delaney," came his hostess' censuring voice. "I realize that Texas has a reputation for being less civilized than other parts of the world, but you should know that here in Scotland we take our meals from a table rather than the floor."
    Some things Jake simply wouldn't listen to, and criticism of his home was near the top of his list. "Oh, I'm not down here eating, ma'am," he drawled, looking to turn the tables, so to speak, as he scooted out from underneath the cabinet. "I was looking for a likely spot to stash my gum, except somebody beat me to it. I see a dozen wads or more down here already."
    "Gum?"
    "Chewing gum."
    "Chewing gum?" Fire lit her eyes.
    Jake bit back a grin. "Sticky stuff, that gum."
    He wouldn't have been surprised to see steam rising from her ears. "I'm going to wring Robbie's neck."
    Then, while Jake climbed to his feet, to his surprise, the very pregnant woman dropped down onto her hands and knees. "Uncle Angus's, too," she muttered.
    Jake's mouth dropped open in shock and a fair measure of horror when she compounded her folly by lying on her stomach—on her stomach!—and sticking her head beneath the sideboard to confirm his claim. "I rue the day my grand-uncle introduced the child to that nasty habit. Chewing gum on a Sheraton sideboard. The girl is—"
    "Mrs. Dunbar, please! I don't think it's a good idea for you to be down on the floor like drat in your condition."
    "—such a trial. Oh!" She broke off abruptly. "Aye. My condition." Then, with a grace that belied her advanced state of ripeness, she scrambled to her feet. Her cheeks were once again stained a bright red. Failing to meet Jake's horrified gaze, she started for the door, murmuring absently, "Excuse me, Mr. Delaney. I have a lass to locate. Enjoy your breakfast."
    Then she was gone and Jake was left staring after her, his arms folded and his eyes narrowed to slits.
    Damned if in the past couple of minutes, Mrs. Dunbar's baby hadn't dropped.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    Darting back into the drawing room, Gillian went straight to the hidden passageway she'd so recently "haunted," and disappeared inside. In the narrow, airless corridor, she paused long enough to tug the stuffed corset she'd fashioned to assist in her masquerade back into position before setting off in search of her younger sister.
    She hurriedly made the long climb up to Uncle Angus's suite of rooms where, when her grand-uncle felt up to the task, the child was directed to spend time each morning in educational pursuit. She found the elderly Scotsman asleep and Robyn nowhere to be found.
    Next Gillian checked Robyn's favorite hiding place in the passages—a former dungeon she'd transformed into a "treasure room." After that, she made the trek to the playroom off the girl's bedchamber and finally, headed for the muniment room in the older section of the castle. As she marched down the hallway, the clash of a sword against stone told her she'd finally run her quarry to ground.
    The scolding tones of Flora's voice filtering to her ears indicated she had not been the only one looking for Robbie.
    "... at this rate you'll never learn your Latin."
    "So?" Robbie shook her shoulders. "I dinna care to learn Latin. I wish to learn languages people still speak so when I grow up I can go exploring like Nicholas and Uncle Angus."
    "That gum-chewing scoundrel," commented Gillian as she swept into the room to see her twin and younger sister squared off on opposite sides of a table. Robyn clasped a sword in her right hand while