He hadn't expected to find the front door to his cottage wide open.

He adjusted his gait to make his footsteps as quiet as possible and crept up to the door. Peering in, he saw the back of a woman. Aunt Agatha's companion, if her pale blond hair and small frame were any indication.

He had been intrigued with her the day before. He didn't realize just how much until he saw her just now leaning over his copy of Francis Bacon's ESSAYS.

Francis Bacon? For a burglar, the chit had rather highbrow reading tastes.

Watching her was almost hypnotic. Her face was in profile, and her nose scrunched up in the most amusing manner as she examined the book. Silky tendrils of flaxen hair had escaped her bun and curled along the back of her neck.

Her skin looked warm.

James sucked in his breath, trying to ignore the heat that was curling in his belly.

He leaned in as close to the doorframe as he could without revealing himself. What the devil was the girl saying? He forced himself to concentrate on her voice, which wasn't easy, since his eyes kept swaying to the gentle curve of her breasts, and that spot on the back of her neck where-

He pinched himself. Pain usually acted as decent antidote to one's baser needs.

Miss Hotchkiss was muttering something, and she sounded rather annoyed.

"… stupid…"

He'd agree with that. Sneaking into his rooms during the light of day was not a smart move on her part.

"… Mrs. Seeton…"

Who the hell was that?

"Ow!"

James peered at her more closely. She was shaking her hand and glaring at his lamp. He had to smile. She looked so furious that he wouldn't have been surprised if the lamp had spontaneously burst into flame.