The Earl of Her Dreams

by Anne Mallory

  Christian’s eyes narrowed on the bent head, disregarding for the moment that something about the boy’s voice was peculiar. Stay somewhere else? There wasn’t a chance in hell.

  “How about I offer to pay you to stay there instead? I’ll even give you a note for your trouble,” Christian said.

  The boy stiffened again, and the innkeeper looked askance at Christian. Damn. So much for being unobtrusive. Damn it all, and double damn Anthony for placing him in this situation. It had seemed a lark at first, finding an outlet for his love of puzzles and the chase, but it had turned into a royal mess.

  Christian shrugged and laughed, hoping to lighten his tone. “I really don’t want to be an inconvenience to either of you. Surely we can share a room for the night, Mr. Kaden. I promise I will be no trouble and will be gone in the morning.”

  The innkeeper looked mollified; the boy’s posture remained stiff.

  “You will be gone in the morning then? It will be just the one night?” The boy’s smooth voice grew low and a bit pensive.

  Christian frowned at the tone. Odd situations were normal for him, but this one felt especially off. He almost felt the need to reassure the boy that he didn’t plan on spending more than an hour or two in the room. Just time enough to scout Freewater’s room. “Yes, I am only in town for the night.”

  The boy looked up at Christian for the first time; light blue eyes rimmed with gray met his. Christian smiled his most disarming smile. The one that made women swoon and men want to befriend him. In no less than four countries, it had worked every time. Well, outside of his family, that is.

  The boy’s mouth pulled taut. Obviously Christian was going to need to revise his statement. It was more important that his charm work on women anyway. And if he finished his mission early, he could spend plenty of time rehoning his technique while unwrapping the saucy blonde serving wench.

  He had no intention of sleeping in the same room with a gangly boy when there were more buxom options available.

  The boy looked at the innkeeper, a torn expression on his face, before resolutely turning back to face Christian. “I suppose we will have to make do for the night, Mr. Black.”

  The boy held out a hand, a slender hand, to agree. Perhaps it was Christian’s previous train of thought about seduction or the increasingly loud alarms about the boy’s voice; either way, the hand was a giveaway.

  Christian looked back to the tailor’s face. “Mr.” Kaden almost unnoticeably chewed at his lower lip; his left hand, also slim and dainty, tugged at the brown wrap around his head, which covered his hair and ears, deliberately causing him to look more androgynous.

  Christian’s gaze traveled down to observe a smooth neck mostly hidden by the oversized clothing, and back up to flashing light blue eyes, resentful and enigmatic.

  How delightful. Perhaps he would spend more than an hour or two in his room after all, his fondness for puzzles and mysteries overriding the easy availability of a maid like the buxom blonde.

  Christian smiled his first real smile of the day as he grasped the warm, soft hand. And anyway, he’d have time to try out that smile again on his new female roommate.

  Chapter 2

  Be a good judge of character, my dear. Distrust a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Many a smart lady has fallen prey to a rapscallion.

  George Simon

  to his daughter Kate, age eighteen

  As Kate Simon shook her new roommate’s smooth hand, the weathered clock on the mantel struck the hour. Her hand jerked with the chime, and the warm clasp of the man’s hand tightened fractionally. Kate shivered as a lick of fear swept through her, momentarily replacing her indignation.

  It had been one month and one hour since her life had literally fallen around her ears. All day she had avoided rooms and areas that were near the chiming clocks. If only she could avoid the nightmares they stirred as well.

  The hand holding hers tightened again, and she studied the confident face of the entirely too attractive man across from her. It seemed her full quotient of bad luck and trouble had not yet been reached.

  She scowled, but instead of responding in kind, his full lips curved into a long, sensual smile. Here was a man who obviously knew his appeal and how to manipulate others by using it.

  Kate pulled her hand from his warm, firm grasp and tugged the left portion of her head wrap again to make sure it covered her still bruised and damaged ear. She could only imagine the cutting comment a man such as the one across from her might make if he were to see the bruises and patchy hair surrounding the area.

  She could still hear the echoes of Connor Lanton’s disgust ringing in her ears, both the perfect one and the not-so-perfect one. Which just went to show how fickle men could be—a man could be an ardent suitor one week, a cutting adversary the next.

  There was no reason to think that this man across from her would be any different. He looked to be cut from the same cloth as Connor and her half-brother, Teddy. Mr. Black appeared to have the same natural indifference to anyone who couldn’t provide some type of aid or amusement, the same charming yet cunning smiles for those who could, and probably the same sneering disdain when casting someone aside. What made the situation worse was that she could already sense that both men were neophytes compared to Mr. Black, who held himself with an innate aristocratic demeanor.

  She disliked him on sight.

  Whispers of her father’s voice brushed through her mind, telling her it wasn’t wise to judge someone based on his appearance or on one’s biases, but the agony of her loss was still too fresh and she pushed the voice aside. Lashing out was much easier than looking inside and dealing with the pain.

  Besides, there was something about Mr. Black—a discrepancy between what was and what should be. His clothing was of quality, but it didn’t look like it belonged on him, as if the material was slightly too small to cover his shoulders and too large at his waist. His gloves were in his hands, showing that his well-manicured fingers hadn’t seen a day’s work, and the cap he wore was that of a workman, one she was sure didn’t belong on his head. His dark blue eyes were wary and watchful beneath the heavy lidded, too-charming gaze.

  “So we have an agreement, Mr. Kaden?”

  Kate hesitated and looked to the innkeeper, who was sending her a questioning, hopeful glance. She had made an arrangement with Mr. Wicket to stay the entire week at a greatly reduced rate. It had taken a great deal of haggling, and she wasn’t going to get a better rate elsewhere, regardless of the unnerving clocks. Not if she was going to continue to stay one step ahead of her brother and his minion.

  No doubt Teddy was searching London and questioning their aunt, assured that he would find her a day or two before she had any chance of finding their solicitor. Teddy prided himself on being a skilled hunter, but often made the mistake of believing that deer and women possessed similar reasoning abilities and instincts.

  “Mr. Kaden?”

  “My apologies. Yes, of course, as I said, we will make do.” She mentally winced, but perhaps she could strike a deal with Mr. Black outside the innkeeper’s curious ears. There was a slightly desperate edge to Mr. Black’s perfected smiles and easy acceptance of the situation that had her on alert. Desperation was an emotion she had come to know intimately over the past month. Perhaps she might even work out a way to pay for a seat in the stage to London. She didn’t fancy the rumble-tumble—the outside seat she would be occupying otherwise.

  “Excellent! Perhaps you could show Mr. Black to your room? Talk with Sally about getting some extra linens?”

  “Of course, Mr. Wicket. Thank you for your concern and continued hospitality.”

  The jolly, rotund man puffed up at the compliment and bid them adieu.

  “Shall we, Mr. Kaden?”

  There was something unsettling about Black’s statement. She narrowed her eyes at his tooth-grinding good looks and arrogance—the plain wool cap doing nothing to hinder either. The man was either a consummate actor pretending he had money, o
r else he was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he really did have money. Either way, Mr. Black was hiding something, and that made him more dangerous than if he were just a common variety rake.

  “This way, Mr. Black.”

  Kate grabbed the clothes that required mending and proceeded up the winding wooden stairs to the first floor, neatly avoiding the creak in the seventh step. Black either wasn’t paying attention or didn’t care as he stepped on the middle section of the riser, which immediately protested his tall, athletic weight.

  As they reached the landing, two giggling girls descended from the upper floor.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Kaden.”

  Kate nodded at Mary, the apple-cheeked innkeeper’s daughter, and at the shy linen maid, Sally. “Mary, Sally. This is Mr. Black.”

  Black nodded, and the girls blushed and bobbed in unison.

  “Since the inn is full, he will be sharing my room for the night. Could you bring a pallet, Sally?”

  Sally bit her lip and shifted. “Sorry, Mr. Kaden, Mr. Black, but the pallets have already been requested and given. Both Mr. Nickford and Mr. Freewater requested them earlier. I’m sorry, sirs.”

  Kate was appalled…no pallets left? But that would mean…no! Her head snapped up to look at Black before turning back to Sally to argue their case.

  “But…there are only two?”

  “Yes, Mr. Kaden. I’m sorry, sir.” The maid’s eyes were firmly focused on the floor. In her short time in the inn, Kate had come to like the timid maid and knew the girl wished to please.

  Kate worked up a reassuring smile. “It’s not your fault, Sally. We will talk to Misters Nickford and Freewater.”

  Sally gave a small, shy smile in thanks and followed her more gregarious friend down the stairs to the ground floor.

  “Whatever shall we do, Mr. Kaden?” her unwanted roommate drawled.

  Kate tasted defeat for a brief second, then walked briskly to her room across from the steps. Motioning Black inside, she shut the door behind him and set the clothes that required mending on the small oak side table. She couldn’t afford the weekly rates at the Toad on her own without the type of deal Mr. Wicket had been offering, clocks or no clocks, but perhaps she could get Mr. Black to foot the bill.

  Spinning around, she faced her foe. “Listen, Mr. Black, if you are so adamant about staying here, perhaps we can work something out. I’m traveling to London next week, and if your offer is still good to pay for me to stay the duration at the Toad—and if you throw in stage fare to Town—then you can be rid of me and have this room to yourself.”

  “Now why would I do that, Mr. Kaden?” There was that strange stress on her name again.

  “Fine, forget the stage fare. I’ll accept your offer for the week’s stay.”

  She watched warily as he walked over and tested the four-poster bed by bouncing on it.

  “Again, why would I do that, Mr. Kaden?” He patted the bed. “There is plenty of space for us to share, so neither of us need be displaced.”

  “The bed is but a double,” she felt it necessary to point out. Why wasn’t he jumping at her offer as he would have earlier? She fingered the cold, smooth planes of the water pitcher on the washstand, trying to settle her nerves and remain calm.

  “How much space do you require?” There was a lascivious tone in his voice that had her feminine side taking unfortunate notice. She knocked the ceramic pitcher onto the floor. It clattered and rolled toward his feet.

  “More than that, I assure you,” she said as calmly as she could, all the while firmly repressing the sudden surge of heat pouring through her body.

  He smirked and reached down to pick up the jug. His hair flopped across his eyes in a rakish manner as he straightened. Long fingers smoothed over the surface of the container as he quirked a brow.

  She was obviously imagining things that were not there. Words that she secretly yearned to hear from an attractive man. She had grown accustomed to a fair amount of male attention during the last few years, perhaps not the bevy of admirers that some of the other village girls had, but enough for Kate to recognize and grow warm under a suggestive comment. Not that she would be getting any more of those—even if she had initially discounted her brother’s taunts, Connor had proved Teddy’s words true when he had turned his viper tongue against her.

  Still, her body hadn’t quite seemed to realize yet what her brain did, and Mr. Black fairly oozed sex and virility. She forgave her body the lapse.

  Black put the pitcher down and leaned back on his elbows, staking out a spot on the bed like a giant house cat lying on a velvet counterpane.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice rose a bit higher than her already unmanly tone. She didn’t know what made her more nervous, his lack of attention to their dilemma or his obvious disregard for it.

  “If it bothers you, we can ask Freewater or Nickford for their pallets.” He crossed his legs at the ankle, raising them a bit off the floor in a parody of a stretch.

  She tried to focus on the uninspired watercolor above the bed instead of on its lounging occupant. “You don’t want to make the deal you proposed earlier in front of the innkeeper? The one where you can have this nice cozy room all to yourself?”

  “No.” He stretched his neck in one slow circle and stood. “Do you want to ask the gentlemen for their pallets?”

  Her eyes followed his stretch against her will. What she wanted was to throw him off the nearest balcony. “Fine. Mr. Freewater’s room is right next door.”

  If she had thought his previous smiles had been sensual, this one was purely predatory, almost bordering on feral. A shiver of dread passed through her. A hunter’s smile.

  “Then by all means, let’s talk to Freewater,” he drawled, the unnerving smile still in place.

  Kate gladly led the way from their small, sparse room to the larger corner room next door and knocked. Then knocked again, louder this time, aware of the disquieting presence directly behind her.

  A harried-looking man opened the door a crack and peered through the narrow slit. Kate got an impression of gray streaks running through dull brown hair, watery pale blue eyes, and unshaven jaw.

  “I said, I don’t need more linens!” Freewater narrowed his eyes as he took in Kate and her much larger shadow. “You aren’t the maid. Who are you and what do you want?”

  Kate pasted on a smile. “The maid said she brought you an extra pallet. Since the inn is fully booked, we are in dire need of it. Would you mind terribly giving up yours?”

  “Yes, I would mind. Terribly, you insolent boy. Wouldn’t have requested it otherwise now, would I have?”

  Kate frowned at the scrawny man. “Yes, well, I understand that you are staying alone in this room, whereas some of the others have multiple occupants—”

  “That fact doesn’t concern me. The bed is lumpy; I need the extra pad for layering. Blame the inn for overbooking. Now, don’t bother me again.”

  He slammed the door abruptly.

  Kate blinked, the tip of her nose two inches from the wood, the smell of recently varnished oak infiltrating her nostrils.

  A smooth voice interrupted her staring contest with a dark knot of wood. “I believe the innkeeper referred to Freewater as ‘terribly cheerless.’ I must admit that he’s a better judge of character than I thought.”

  Kate turned to Black, who was leaning against the wall. “You could have helped.”

  “Not sure anything would sway Freewater. He’s terribly cheerless, didn’t you know?”

  She frowned at his smirking expression. “But still, you want that pallet, don’t you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “No?! Why ever not?”

  He smiled lazily, and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. “I have no problem sharing a bed with you.”

  There it was again. That slight emphasis, just as when he had addressed her as mister. Mister…Kate froze. He knew. “We’ll—we’ll just try Mr. Nickford now.”

  She walked bl
indly down the hall to Nickford’s room. He couldn’t know. He just couldn’t. If Connor or Teddy were in this situation they would blackmail first, ask questions later. She was in deep, deep trouble if he knew. She didn’t have the funds to stay somewhere else for a week and get to London, and there was no way she could go to her aunt in London without her brother finding her. Timing was of the utmost importance.

  A languid drawl interrupted her panic. “Are you going to knock on the door?”

  Kate swallowed her incipient numbness and knocked. Six pairs of dangling brown eyes answered.

  “Mr. Nickford?”

  “Jolly good. You’ve brought me the mugs. Need them for my experiment, I do.” Jiggling from his bright red head were three pairs of dangling eyeglasses attached in various ways to a contraption. “Bring them in, bring them in.”

  Nickford jostled her inside, and she saw Black enter with barely concealed curiosity.

  “Mr. Nickford, we are here to—”

  “Yes, put it over there.” He motioned to a side table and set something up on top of the prized pallet.

  “No, you misunderstand. We are here to talk about the pallet.”

  “The pellets? Don’t need any pellets. Just the mugs. Hold still while I test this out.”

  “Pallets,” she enunciated.

  “Yes, the pallet works fine.”

  Black tried unsuccessfully to hide his mirth behind his hand and Kate glared at him.

  “Watch out now.”

  Before Kate had an opportunity to follow the instruction, Nickford pulled a handle and a giant object sped straight toward her.

  Kate momentarily forgot how to breathe.

  The projectile barely missed striking her, instead hitting the side table with a resounding thwack.

  “Where’s the mug?”

  “What?” Kate tried to catch her breath.

  “The mug? Oh, failure again! The mug. Oh, why?”

  Kate regained the ability to breathe and didn’t know whether to give the man’s cheek a hard slap to stop his fit or to join his wailing chorus.