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gets involved with him.”
“I do not intend to get involved with you. Good night,
Mr. January. You are, if you don't mind my saying so, very well named. I have
never met anyone quite so cold-blooded.”
“Then you have lived a very sheltered life, Maggie
Gladstone.”
Josh watched with satisfaction as she started to slam
the door on her way out of the room. At the last minute she apparently changed
her mind, no doubt afraid the noise would be heard down the hall. She closed it
very softly with a self-control that spoke volumes.
She was at least fully aware of him now. Josh decided.
As aware of him as he was of her. The month at Peregrine Manor was going to
prove interesting.
After a few minutes he removed the ice from his leg and
levered himself carefully up and off the bed. This time he found the steps. Balancing
on his good leg, he studied the ornately carved bedpost that had turned so
easily beneath his wildly clutching fingers.
He recalled what Maggie had said about this room having
once belonged to her Aunt Agatha.
Josh took a good grip on the post and slowly turned it
counterclockwise. The post squeaked softly in protest and then the entire upper
portion came loose.
Josh lifted that section of post off the joining
portion and realized he was looking into a small, hidden “safe.” There was a
little jewellery box resting inside the hollowed-out bedpost. He plucked it out
and opened it.
An old-fashioned emerald brooch winked in the light of
the bedside lamp.
Was he a hotshot private eye or what? Just give him a
clue and he was a regular Sherlock Homes.
Grinning to himself. Josh replaced the lid and dropped
the box back into the hidden chamber. Then he carefully repositioned the upper
section of the bedpost and screwed it back into place.
There was no point in solving the mysteries of
Peregrine Manor too soon, he reminded himself as he got back into bed. He had a
month to kill here. A month in which to delve deeply into the mysteries of one
Maggie Gladstone, spinster, amateur sleuth and reader of detective novels. He
realized he was looking forward to the next four weeks with more enthusiasm
than he'd felt about anything in a long, long while.
Josh went to sleep feeling as if some great weight had
begun to be lifted from his shoulders.
Chapter 4
MAGGIE AWOKE the next morning feeling surprisingly rested and
refreshed. She realized that she hadn't been sleeping very well lately. The
nightly stress of listening for strange noises, the concern about whether she
had double-checked every lock on every window, the growing worry about the
future of Peregrine Manor all had taken their toll on her during the past few
weeks.
Apparently there was much to be said for having a man
like Josh January in the house. In spite of the crutches and bruises, there was
something oddly reassuring about his presence. It was unfortunate he had made
that pass last night. Now she was going to have to make a point of keeping him
in his place. No more going to his rescue in the-middle of the night, she told
herself.
Maggie showered and quickly selected a pair of jeans
and an orange sweatshirt from her closet. When she had put them on, she went to
stand in front of the dressing table and picked up a brush.
She had just finished tying her thick hair back into a
ponytail when her eyes fell on the crumpled sheet of yellow paper lying on the
table. Maggie went very still as vivid details of the night before returned to
her.
There had been a disconcerting and thoroughly
devastating masculine arrogance about the way Josh had sprawled on the big bed
in the turret room. His dark hair had been disturbingly tousled. The crisp,
curling thicket on his broad chest had fascinated her. It had been all she
could do to keep from staring. She had wanted to run her fingers through that
black mat in the worst way. And she had ached with a desire to soothe the massive
bruise on his rib cage.
The brooding speculation in his eyes had ruffled
“I do not intend to get involved with you. Good night,
Mr. January. You are, if you don't mind my saying so, very well named. I have
never met anyone quite so cold-blooded.”
“Then you have lived a very sheltered life, Maggie
Gladstone.”
Josh watched with satisfaction as she started to slam
the door on her way out of the room. At the last minute she apparently changed
her mind, no doubt afraid the noise would be heard down the hall. She closed it
very softly with a self-control that spoke volumes.
She was at least fully aware of him now. Josh decided.
As aware of him as he was of her. The month at Peregrine Manor was going to
prove interesting.
After a few minutes he removed the ice from his leg and
levered himself carefully up and off the bed. This time he found the steps. Balancing
on his good leg, he studied the ornately carved bedpost that had turned so
easily beneath his wildly clutching fingers.
He recalled what Maggie had said about this room having
once belonged to her Aunt Agatha.
Josh took a good grip on the post and slowly turned it
counterclockwise. The post squeaked softly in protest and then the entire upper
portion came loose.
Josh lifted that section of post off the joining
portion and realized he was looking into a small, hidden “safe.” There was a
little jewellery box resting inside the hollowed-out bedpost. He plucked it out
and opened it.
An old-fashioned emerald brooch winked in the light of
the bedside lamp.
Was he a hotshot private eye or what? Just give him a
clue and he was a regular Sherlock Homes.
Grinning to himself. Josh replaced the lid and dropped
the box back into the hidden chamber. Then he carefully repositioned the upper
section of the bedpost and screwed it back into place.
There was no point in solving the mysteries of
Peregrine Manor too soon, he reminded himself as he got back into bed. He had a
month to kill here. A month in which to delve deeply into the mysteries of one
Maggie Gladstone, spinster, amateur sleuth and reader of detective novels. He
realized he was looking forward to the next four weeks with more enthusiasm
than he'd felt about anything in a long, long while.
Josh went to sleep feeling as if some great weight had
begun to be lifted from his shoulders.
Chapter 4
MAGGIE AWOKE the next morning feeling surprisingly rested and
refreshed. She realized that she hadn't been sleeping very well lately. The
nightly stress of listening for strange noises, the concern about whether she
had double-checked every lock on every window, the growing worry about the
future of Peregrine Manor all had taken their toll on her during the past few
weeks.
Apparently there was much to be said for having a man
like Josh January in the house. In spite of the crutches and bruises, there was
something oddly reassuring about his presence. It was unfortunate he had made
that pass last night. Now she was going to have to make a point of keeping him
in his place. No more going to his rescue in the-middle of the night, she told
herself.
Maggie showered and quickly selected a pair of jeans
and an orange sweatshirt from her closet. When she had put them on, she went to
stand in front of the dressing table and picked up a brush.
She had just finished tying her thick hair back into a
ponytail when her eyes fell on the crumpled sheet of yellow paper lying on the
table. Maggie went very still as vivid details of the night before returned to
her.
There had been a disconcerting and thoroughly
devastating masculine arrogance about the way Josh had sprawled on the big bed
in the turret room. His dark hair had been disturbingly tousled. The crisp,
curling thicket on his broad chest had fascinated her. It had been all she
could do to keep from staring. She had wanted to run her fingers through that
black mat in the worst way. And she had ached with a desire to soothe the massive
bruise on his rib cage.
The brooding speculation in his eyes had ruffled
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