by Anne Mallory
Nickford stopped howling abruptly as if nothing had happened, straightened, and announced, “One test is nothing. There will be more, oh yes. Help me set things up again, my boy.”
Kate swore she heard muffled laughter from the corner of the room, but she refused to look at Black. “We are here to commandeer your pallet.” Directness seemed the only way to handle Nickford. “Now hand it over.”
Nickford’s face fell. “But my tests? You are taking my pallet away? I need it to prop up my items; you saw what happened. I need it!”
Kate breathed in deeply and held on to her patience. Nickford was like the baker from her village, temperamental one minute and jolly the next. “Mr. Nickford. Your shot was straight and true. I’m sure if the mug had been in position, you would have hit the mark. Now really, one night without the pallet will do no harm.”
“But it was supposed to go in the mug.”
At that speed? He was lucky it hadn’t left a hole in the table.
“Be that as it may—”
“We are sorry to interfere, Mr. Nickford. We’ll leave you to your work.” Black tugged her arm through the door, and the last thing she saw was Nickford’s jaunty wave before a warm hand pressed into the small of her back and prodded her down the empty hall and into her room.
“What are you doing?” She hissed.
“Surely you weren’t going to steal the poor man’s pallet. He was already starting to weep at its loss.”
“Weep? It’s a pallet! Not a Rembrandt!”
“And we don’t need it.”
Kate fought her temper and outrage as he strode past her, his fingers brushing her side. “I am not sleeping with you in this room without a pallet.”
He resumed his previous position on the bed. “It will be mighty cold outside tonight. Heard someone say we were in for a bit of a storm.”
She pointed a finger at him. “What exactly do you want, Mr. Black? Why are you all of a sudden so intent on sharing a room with me, when you were so opposed to it before?”
Please, please let her suspicion prove untrue…for several days things had been going well—right up until Mr. Black made his entrance. No one at the inn had suspected she was a girl, at least no one with any wish to expose her. And if her ruse was discovered now, the game would be up. Juicy news traveled quickly through the countryside, and although her brother was dim when it came to the female mind, outside of gambling he rarely made the same mistake twice.
“Because you seem like such interesting company, Mr. Kaden. Besides, I could stand to save a few pounds. I’m down on my luck as well. Too many bets on the races.”
“Then why did you offer to pay for me to stay a week at the Toad earlier?”
He shrugged carelessly. “It suited my purpose at the time, but on second thought, this is a better arrangement. I seem to forget I’m bereft of cash now and again.”
Kate narrowed her eyes. Just like Teddy and Connor. All smiles, affectations, and hidden agendas. A man who always took what he pleased and thought nothing of others. One who would ignore the people in his life if it meant risking his own pleasure.
Sell his own sister to pay his debts? Sell his honor to enter just one more game? Borrow against the promise of an inheritance?
Men like that were driven by self-interest and blind to others. They didn’t look any further than what they wanted to see. She snorted. And she had been worried.
To be noticed as a female, she would probably have to strip naked and dance in front of him.
He drew a lazy pattern on the counterpane with his finger. “So what’s your real name?”
She blinked as she met his eyes. “What?”
“Your real name, Miss Kaden?”
Chapter 3
It is never too late to extricate yourself from a bad situation. Be strong and cunning and never underestimate your foe.
George Simon
to Kate, age fifteen
“Pardon me, Mr. Black, but did you just question my manhood?”
Kate would not sweat. She would not sweat.
“Most definitely.”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I withdraw permission for you to share this room.”
When he continued to lounge on the bed, she motioned toward the door. “Go now before I must prove my manliness with violence.”
“Welshing on your agreement?” Instead of the angry or seductive tone of voice she expected, a good deal of humor had been injected. “I don’t think you really want me to leave, Miss Kaden.”
“I most definitely do. And stop calling me that.”
“What should I call you then? Lady? Missus? Lassie? Maiden? Maiden Kaden has a nice ring, don’t you think?”
“What? No! Leave!”
“I repeat, I don’t think you really want me to go.” He tapped a finger against the counterpane.
“I do. I really, really do,” she insisted fervently.
He stretched and rose from his position on the bed. Kate’s breathing increased as he stalked toward her, every bit the hunter she had thought him previously.
He leaned close to her good right ear, his breath tickling the skin just behind and sending shivers to her toes. “Oh, I don’t think you do, unless you want everyone to know you are pretending to be a boy.”
“You have taken leave of your senses, Mr.—”
He pulled away from her and snatched off her cap. Short brown curls tumbled over the side of the head wrap to brush her chin.
“Much better, maiden.” He twirled a silky tendril in his fingers as she frantically put one hand to the left side of her head. Relief washed through her as she felt the band over her ear still in place. “Much, much better, in fact.”
She swiped her scratchy wool cap from his fingers and with trembling fingers put it back in place. As soon as she had the curls tucked beneath the cap and was sure the head wrap hadn’t come loose, she looked up. She couldn’t see any disgust on his face, so he must not have seen her ear. Thank goodness. She didn’t think her damaged femininity could take another bruising.
She caught the flicker of interest in his eyes as he smiled in his seductive way. That wouldn’t do either. It would only delay the inevitable abhorrence and crush her in the end.
Besides, her racing heart was due to being unmasked, that was all.
“My hair is no longer than that of many men my age,” she said, trying to recover whatever tendrils of the doomed masquerade she could. Somehow her voice emerged steady and calm, in complete opposition to the rest of her.
He bent his head and lifted her chin. “You look nothing like a boy. Your features are too fine and your skin too smooth.” A thumb brushed her lower lip, and she could do nothing but stand there frozen, her body a statue in the hands of a master carver.
“You have beautiful long lashes, a generous mouth, and your stride is definitely feminine. Also your clothes are not those of a tailor’s apprentice. To the casual observer, you may not be noticed in this garb, but on any closer inspection, you would never pass as a boy. Not by anyone of discerning intelligence. Two points deducted from the innkeeper and every other man in residence. You are far too fey.”
Kate took a step back, her heart beating even faster, and his hand dropped from her chin, his thumb from her lips. “What do you want?” Her words came out on a breath. She studied the worn red and blue rug on the floor before remembering the danger of not keeping her eyes on the man before her.
He shrugged negligently, but there was a gleam in his deep blue eyes and a dangerous set to his chiseled features. “Nothing too extraordinary, I assure you. I merely wish to stay in this room for the night.”
“Neither of us wanted to room together before you knew my gender. Now that you know I am a female, surely you can see the impropriety?”
“The impropriety exists now, where it didn’t exist before?”
“No. Yes. You know to what I refer!”
He leaned against the bedpost. “I don’t believe I do. Enlighten
me.”
“If you were a gentleman, you would see the dilemma.”
“Ah, but I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
She narrowed her eyes and swiped the ceramic pitcher from the floor. “Surely anyone as discerning as yourself could tell that you are anything other than what you claim.”
His eyes narrowed, and she congratulated herself on wiping the arrogance from his face.
“And just what do you mean by that statement?”
“Goodness, sir, who dressed you? The blacksmith’s apprentice?”
She gave him credit. He didn’t so much as peer down at his clothes.
“You mock my clothes?”
“Those aren’t your clothes.”
“I’m wearing them, aren’t I?”
“Badly.”
His eyes narrowed further, and she thought she detected a hint of outrage. She would never have taken him for a dandy. Great, that was all she needed.
“I’ll have you know, these clothes look fine. I even received a gracious offer from a rather lusty-looking blonde in this very establishment.”
“Daisy? From what I’m to understand, you shouldn’t feel quite so special about it.”
Black smoothed down his shirt and cocked a brow. “Did you receive an offer, maiden?”
Kate blinked. “I’m just going to forget you asked me that. Now could you please just leave? Find somewhere else to stay?”
She nonchalantly tried to put the pitcher back in place, but it wobbled a bit.
His smile returned in force. Perfect white teeth, full lips, straight aristocratic nose, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, dark rakishly arranged locks…she wasn’t at all surprised Daisy had made an offer.
“No. I want to stay here with you. If nothing else, you will prove amusing.”
Kate bristled, even though she knew she was fueling said amusement. “Mr. Black, or whatever your name is, you need to find somewhere else to stay. There will be no further discussion.”
A self-satisfied smile appeared. “You are correct, unless you want me to tell dear Mr. Wicket and his staff that you are not Mr. Kaden after all.”
Kate went cold. “You wouldn’t.”
“And why wouldn’t I? You are denying me a place to sleep, after all. And you did suggest I was anything but a gentleman.”
Kate swallowed. “Fine. Take the room then. I’ll find somewhere else to stay. Perhaps with one of the servants.” But she knew that was not an option. The staff had been doubled up and even tripled because of the additional servants the guests had brought with them. The small post town was overflowing for the holidays. The Wickets’ nine-guest-room inn was packed to the brim.
“No need to do that, maiden.” His smile wasn’t quite conciliatory, but it wasn’t as self-satisfied as it had been. “I’m going to remain in the taproom most of the evening. Other than requiring a few hours’ sleep, you won’t even realize I’m around.”
She highly doubted that. But she nodded. She would nap while he was downstairs, then stay awake the rest of the night. Something in the softening of his eyes after her obvious distress told her that he could be trusted—to an extent.
And he obviously wasn’t pining for female attention—his looks if nothing else would guarantee that. His breed of arrogance was a siren call to those of her gender. Kate was determined to keep cotton stuffed in her ears to resist his lure.
No, Black wasn’t the strong-arm type. He was a cajoler, a seducer, a charmer. She could readily fend off those tactics.
There was no way she was opening herself up to the type of scorn she would experience. A man like that wanted perfection, he wanted—
Wait a moment. Why was her stomach fluttering, and why was she worrying about him seducing her? He was more likely to prefer a romp with the willing, voluptuous Daisy. Actually she could probably put money on it.
“Then we are agreed, maiden?”
Having convinced herself that she had been experiencing a bad case of nerves, she nodded. “Yes, but stop calling me that.”
“What is your real name?”
“Kate,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Kate Kaden? How awful.” She stiffened. “Ah, so Kaden isn’t your real last name. Quite clever of you. Much easier to respond to a new name when it sounds so similar to the old one.”
Well, Kate had thought herself clever. But now she just felt mocked.
“Are we through, Mr. Black?” She stressed his last name.
He gave her that charming, teeth-gnashing smile that caused her toes to curl in her ill-fitting boots. “Yes we are, Kate. And you may call me Christian.”
A name less suited to a person, she had yet to hear.
“I’m honored.”
“I know.”
She attempted a smile, but it was forced. With teeth clenched, she barely restrained a hiss.
“See you after supper, Kate.”
“You could only wish,” she muttered to his retreating back as he sauntered to the door. “And don’t call me that!”
Christian barely suppressed a real smile as he descended the winding stairs, hugging the railing to avoid the squeaky seventh step. If he had known having a roommate would be such fun, he’d have taken one sooner.
Christian walked into the smoky taproom and seated himself on a hard chair in the back corner. It was an ideal place to observe everyone entering and exiting the taproom, the dining room, and the inn itself. As soon as Freewater entered for dinner or a drink, Christian would slip upstairs, rifle through his room, find the journal, then spend a few hopefully memorable hours trying to coax his new roommate into spending the time pleasurably. He’d need at least a few hours to work on such a feisty one.
Daisy sidled up to his table and gave him a saucy smile. “Whatcha havin’, handsome?”
He cocked a brow. “What do you recommend?”
She leaned forward, raising her brows invitingly. “There are so many choices.”
Christian caught a flurry of brown moving through the room, and saw Kate shooting him a look of annoyance before shaking her head and disappearing into the hall. She had every right to be irritated with him after being outmaneuvered.
Disapproval was a normal response to his actions, and generally he was able to shrug it off. But for some reason he felt the unreasonable urge to drag her back into the room. Irritation vied with amusement. Perhaps he had finally reached his limit.
Christian turned to Daisy. “A pint of your winter ale will be fine. For now.” He winked, though it took some effort.
Daisy gave him a saucy grin and sauntered off.
It took everything Christian had to return her look. He internally shook his head. Within his reach was an experienced wench, ready to be tossed for a few coins, or even for just the pleasure, yet his mind was on a fey child-woman pretending to be a man.
He had never been able to resist a challenge.
His time was too short, though. Better to take pleasure with the lass already primed for action. He tried to picture Daisy, breasts and blond locks bouncing while she vigorously rode him, but the image faded and was replaced with Kate’s lithe body, fiery blue eyes, and disapproving glare. The urge to bury his face between Daisy’s ample assets was replaced with the urge to run his fingers through Kate’s short, silky curls. In fact, he’d be more than willing to look for short curls in other places on her body as well. Maybe not as silky, but no less interesting, to be sure.
His body began to respond.
Damn. His presence at the inn was a challenge itself, he didn’t need another. But the image of Kate slithered through his mind, taunting him. He rarely backed down from a task, and had a well-earned reputation for tenacity. Other than accepting challenges, only solving puzzles interested him more. Kate was a very nice-looking combination of the two.
As he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he guessed he really did need that country respite Anthony had been advocating. It was easy enough for Anthony to suggest, since his friend was chasi
ng a skirt while leaving Christian to clean up his mess.
“I just need you to pick up the journal, Christian. Won’t take but ten minutes,” Christian mimicked.
Daisy reappeared with his ale and a suggestive wink, then headed to a booth across the room to serve another patron.
He took a swig and let the tankard drop to the table with a thud, women forgotten for the moment. Ten minutes had turned into ten days of trailing Frederick Freewater around the Midlands.
Anthony, in all his carelessness, had left his journal and travel cases at his aunt’s home when he had run off to chase his ladylove in the middle of the night after a lovers’ spat. Even after ascending to his title, Anthony still did a lot of stupid things. Then again, like two peas in a pod, Christian and he were such good friends for a reason.
Freewater had been working with Anthony’s dotty aunt to publish her husband’s memoirs. Apparently she had given Freewater carte blanche to search the entire house and take anything that would help. Freewater had done just that. He hadn’t even waited to finish the old man’s memoirs before offering Anthony’s aunt a feeble excuse to leave and hightailing it off the property.
To a publisher like Freewater, Anthony’s journal must have been a godsend. The damn man had probably heard the blasted angels playing as he opened the first page.
After Christian had spoken with the dotty lady and discovered the journal missing, it hadn’t been hard to connect the dots. The only saving grace was that Freewater seemed to be making his way to London slowly and haphazardly. He was probably trying to avoid Anthony while he made notes and composed a forward to Anthony’s unauthorized “memoirs.” More like Anthony’s sinful confessions of every married woman, widow, and harlot he had ever tossed. Detailed ones, if what Anthony hinted was true.
Tracking Freewater’s disjointed path had been more than painful. Christian had been in a state of gritted teeth and painful smiles ever since leaving Anthony’s aunt. He wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t just kill Anthony before his friend had the chance to kill him for losing the journal.
