I stood by the side of Christian's bed, watching him as he slept, and decided that my third decision—that I would accept his invitation to stay with him—was sound. There was really no reason to make myself miserable by cutting off all contact with him. Besides, I told myself as I slipped out of the silk bathrobe and into the bed, it was much easier to keep tabs on him if I were staying here.

He murmured sleepily as I snuggled up against his back. Are you better now, Beloved?

I ignored the Beloved and slid my hand over his hip and up his chest, pressing my cheek against the warm flesh of his back. He felt solid, strong, invincible, but I knew that could change in an instant. "Much better, thank you for understanding."

Will you tell me of this dream that left you so devastated?

"No."

He turned until I was pressed against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. I sighed and allowed his heat to sink into me as he tossed a heavy thigh over my legs. I did not ask to pry, malý váleèník. I want only to help you.

"I know you do." I yawned, snuggling a bit closer so I could melt against him. "But it's okay now. I just want to go to sleep."

His breath was slow and soft on my hair as we both drifted off into sleep. Just before I let sleep claim me, I felt the faintest echo in my head.

You have much to learn of trust, Beloved.

"All right, we have a couple of ground rules that I want to go over before I leave. Jem, please stop picking your ear and pay attention. I'm sure there's nothing in there you haven't seen before. Esme, can you ask Alis if she'd leave off waving her hands through Christian's vase long enough to listen? Thank you. Now, since I have told the couple who takes care of Christian's house that I was leaving some very valuable equipment in here that mustn't be disturbed, they have promised not to come in. As long as you stay in this room, everything will be fine."

I ignored the faint nudging at my mind.

"There's a bloke there wot wants ye," Jem said, glowering at me. I was starting to get used to his perpetual sulk, figuring it was just part and parcel of a teenage male, even ghostly teenage males. I nodded at him, then took a closer look at his face.

"Whatever have you done to your eyebrow? It can't be… You didn't… Is it pierced? Why did you do that? More important, how did you do that?"

He slouched aggressively at me.

"And what happened to your powdered wig? Didn't you have a powdered wig? I know you had a powdered wig!"

He sneered.

Someone behind me nudged my mind again.

"Esme, is it possible for you to change your appearance if you desire?"

She sat with ladylike elegance in the leather chair behind Christian's desk. "Why, yes, dear, of course we can. Anytime."

"But… but…" I looked from her ratty slippers to her nightgown and bathrobe. "But if you can change your clothes and such…"

She smiled. "There will come a time in your life when you learn to value comfort over fashion. Although I hope for Christian's sake that time doesn't come anytime soon. You're comfortable enough now."

I cleared my throat and looked away, feeling a bit of a blush burn my cheeks. We'd had a terrible time getting Esme from Christian's room once she decided that it was her matchmaking efforts that had made the difference in our relationship. Christian had to decline her offer of lovemaking advice three times before we finally convinced her to go haunt his study, the room I now stood in.

The ghost behind me nudged me again. I gritted my teeth and ignored it.

"Okay, so the rule is that you must stay here in this room, and no investigating anywhere else in the house. Christian will be up once it's dark, and I'll be gone until then, so you're just going to have to amuse yourselves as best you can until then. Need I remind you—Alis, would you please stop trying to knock over Christian's vase! I doubt if you can summon the psychic energy necessary to have a physical impact on it, and all that arm waving is a bit distracting. Where was I?"

Behind me, a book flew off the bookshelf and hit the desk. Esme looked at it with interest.

"Um… oh, yes. Need I remind you that if anyone misbehaves—"

A second book flew off the shelf.

"—the punishment will be the keepers. Since I've heard from you all that you don't like being bound to a bobble and stuffed in my pocket, I trust you'll all behave so I won't have to take that action."

A red rose materialized out of the air and fell to my feet.

"Oh, my, how romantic!" Esme said as the cat limped over to sniff it.

"Wot're we supposed t'do then, while yer off? Just sit 'ere an' watch fold loony bat at them big fancy bits?"

I stepped over the rose and picked up the remote control to the television hidden in an oak armoire. "I'll turn the TV on, but low. You can watch it, or stare out the window, or pick your toes for all I care, just as long as you do it in this room."

Jem dropped his habitual sullenness long enough to stare in openmouthed surprise at the TV. "Wot's it?"

"It's a television. Oh, I don't have time to explain it to you. Esme, you've seen one, yes?"

"Heavens, yes. The maid who used to do my room turned it on every day. Mr. Woogums and I became quite the devotees of Coronation Street."

Two more roses materialized and fluttered down at my feet, accompanied by a big push at my mind. "Good, you can explain what a TV is to Jem. Alis, what is your problem?"

"She was a housekeeper, dear."

"So?"

"For a man who owned a sizable china collection. He insisted that she be the only one who attend to his things, since they were so valuable. It's only natural that she should hate the sight of objets d'art."

"Hmmm." I watched her for a moment. "You don't think she could focus enough to actually do any damage?" Ghosts, when focused, can sometimes rally enough psychic energy to interact in our world in a physical manner, as demonstrated by the roses that were appearing with regularity at my feet. I knew Christian's vase and a nearby delicate bust of a Greek goddess that had also attracted Alis's attention must be valuable, and hated to think of her inadvertently destroying them.

Esme tore her eyes from the TV and looked thoughtful. "I doubt it, although the gentleman who's trying to get your attention certainly could."

At her words, the jade green-and-blue vase lifted up three inches off its plinth and tilted at a rakish angle.

"Put that down!" I snarled, reaching in my pocket for my chalk and ash. "Carefully, or I won't Summon you!"

The vase settled down with a soft murmur of antique china on highly polished wood.

I drew a circle, hurried through the wards, spoke the words, and pushed away the annoyance of having to Summon a pesky, pushy ghost when I needed to be leaving. I had a difficult enough time dragging myself from Christian's arms after only a couple of hours of sleep; I didn't want to be here when he awoke and noticed my absence.

As I sneezed and got to my feet the air shimmered and collected itself, darkening into the figure of a swarthy man with dark, curly hair, a short, pointed beard, glittering blue eyes, an Elizabethan ruff, a scarlet-and-gold doublet, and what surely must have been a greatly exaggerated codpiece. I grounded the spirit and gathered up my coat.

"Mi amor! My beautiful one! You 'ave at last succumbed to my charms and you draw me forth!" His voice was a pleasant tenor with a heavy Spanish accent. I pegged him for one of the Spanish courtiers who hung around Elizabeth's court before the armada took a drubbing.

"What's your name?" I asked as I shoved my arms into my coat.

He kissed his hand to me. "I am Antonio de Gutierrez, Count de Seville and your most 'umble servant."