Charon's Crossing

"I would have hoped your taste in men would have improved over the years, Cat. But it seems it has not. First Waring, then that—that disgusting excuse for a man this afternoon..."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Hell, neither did he. Matthew's jaw tightened. What did it matter, her taste in men? She could be sleeping with the King's garrison and the Corporal of the Guard, for all he cared.

He shrugged and strolled towards her.

"Never mind," he said, slapping down his empty glass. "Your amusements are none of my concern."

"I'm glad we agree on something."

A corner of his mouth tilted up in a cool smile. He leaned back against the wall, folded his arms, and looked at her.

"I must say, you're taking this very calmly."

Calmly? God, if he only knew. If her heart raced any faster, it might burst from her chest and any second now, her teeth were threatening to chatter like castanets.

"Well, I'm trying to understand what, ah, what it is you're doing here," she said.

He laughed, as if she'd said something funny.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll come up with the answer."

There was an ominous undertone to his words. Kathryn licked her lips nervously.

"Were you—were you here, in the house, when I went out this morning?"

His smile was quick and condescending. "Of course."

She nodded, poured a dollop of rum into her glass, lifted it to her lips and swallowed it in one quick, throat-scalding gulp.

"Better?" he said, after a moment.

She nodded again, even though it was a lie. How could anything make her feel better? Here she was, talking with a man who'd somehow broken into Charon's Crossing, who traipsed around pretending to be someone who'd been dead almost two hundred years, right down to the costume and the old-fashioned speech.

He was clever. And dangerous. He was either a criminal or a lunatic...

Or both.

Kathryn put down the glass and the decanter. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her skirt to keep them from shaking.

It was not an encouraging situation.

"What's the matter, Cat?"

She looked up. The intruder was watching her, still with that little smile curled across his mouth.

"Why should anything be the matter?" she said quickly.

"You look as if..." He chuckled. "...as if you've seen a ghost."

Her heart rose to her throat. He was doing his best to terrify her. Well, he was succeeding. Her imagination had shifted into overdrive, racing for half a dozen different endings to this script.

The trouble was, not a one of them ende

d with her smiling in the winner's circle.

The second he knew that, it would be all over.