The man turned at her gasp. “I’m sorry I startled you, ma’am,” he apologized gently. “Might Dageus MacKeltar be about?”

British accent, she noted. And a funny tattoo on his neck. Didn’t seem quite in character with the rest of him. He didn’t seem the tattoo sort.

“I didn’t hear you knock,” Chloe said. She didn’t think he had. Maybe Dageus’s friends didn’t. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Yes. I’m Giles Jones,” he said. “Is he in?”

“Not at the moment, but I’ll be happy to tell him you stopped by.” She peered at him, curiosity never dormant. Here was one of Dageus’s friends. What might he tell her about him? “Are you a close friend of his?” she fished.

“Yes.” He smiled. “And who might you be? I can’t believe he’s not mentioned such a lovely woman to me.”

“Chloe Zanders.”

“Ah, he has exquisite taste,” Giles said softly.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Where did he go? Will he be returning soon? Might I wait?”

“It’ll probably be an hour or so. Can I give him a message for you?”

“An hour?” he echoed. “Are you certain? Perhaps I could wait; he might be back sooner.” He glanced questioningly at her.

Chloe shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Jones. He went to get some things for me; we’re leaving for Scotland later and—”

She broke off as the man’s demeanor changed abruptly.

Gone was the disarming smile. Gone was the appreciative gaze.

Replaced by a cold, calculating expression. And—her brain seemed to resist processing this fact—there was suddenly, bewilderingly, a knife in his hand.

She shook her head sharply, unable to absorb the bizarre turn of events.

With a menacing smile, he moved toward her.

Still trying to get some dim grasp on the situation, she said stupidly. “You’re n-not his f-friend.” Oh, gee, did the knife give it away, Zanders? she snapped at herself silently. Get a grip. Find a blasted weapon. She inched slowly backward, into the kitchen, afraid to make a sudden move.

“Not yet,” was the man’s bizarre reply as he paced her.

“What do you want? If it’s money, he has lots of money. Tons of money. And he’ll happily give it to you. And there are artifacts,” she babbled. She was almost there. Surely there was a knife lying on the counter somewhere. “Worth a fortune. I’ll help you pack them up. There are oodles of things here you can take. I won’t get in your way a bit. I promise, I’ll just—”

“It’s not money I’m after.”

Oh, God. A dozen horrid scenarios, each worse than the last, flashed through her mind. He’d duped her into freely admitting that she was alone for an hour by pretending to know Dageus. How gullible she’d been! You can take the girl out of Kansas, but you can’t take Kansas out of the girl, she thought, hysteria bubbling inside her.

“Oh, would you look at that! I’ve mistaken the time! He’s due back any minute—”