by Anne Mallory
Kate ignored him and marched to the door. Solace wasn’t going to be found in this room. Perhaps it wasn’t even to be found at this inn. But she would find it. And she would find out what happened to Janson.
“Wait, Kate—”
She yanked open the door so hard it crashed into the wall and recoiled, barely missing her. She was brimming with too much emotion to care. Too much anger, at both herself for allowing accidents to happen, and at the world for punishing her. She marched toward the stairs without a backward glance.
She could hear Christian swearing as he ran to catch her. He hopped in front of her, blocking the way, his left arm against the banister.
“Kate, you can’t just walk down there and start making things up.”
She gave him a pointed look. “No, that would be wrong, wouldn’t it?”
He brushed her comment aside. “They won’t believe you.”
“Why, because I’m not the charming Christian Black, Bow Street Runner, founder of the ludicrous Runner’s Code?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Shhh. No, because you have no credentials.”
“Neither do you. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She ducked under his arm and marched determinedly down the stairs, through the hallway, and into the dining room.
Chapter 8
Have no fear. There is nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it.
George Simon
to Kate, age sixteen
Everyone turned as she entered, their chair legs scraping the hard floor.
“Good people. You may return to your rooms if you like, but I may be coming by to ask a few questions. Please continue to enjoy your stay.”
The patrons exchanged glances, but didn’t seem inclined to go back to their drinks or conversations.
“Did you find anything? Are you still searching?”
Kate tugged her head wrap, her anger converting into nerves as she realized that her actions were putting her directly into attention’s path. She straightened her shoulders resolutely. Looking out over the sea of faces, she knew no one else would take the helm. She caught Desmond’s sneer. Well, at least no one without an agenda. She would just have to deal with the consequences of being center stage.
“We haven’t found anything conclusive yet. And I can’t divulge any part of the investigation, I’m sure you understand.” She remembered her village constable, who had held the position more or less permanently, saying something equally pompous when a villager had lost a few sheep and blamed his neighbor.
“No, I don’t understand at all.” Desmond gave her a calculating look. “Why don’t you tell everyone what is going on?”
“I’m afraid Mr. Kaden can’t do that. He’s under strict orders. If you have issues, take them up with me.”
Kate stiffened as the smooth voice curled the hairs at the back of her neck. Desmond looked sour, but backed down under Christian’s authoritarian tone.
“We will be creating a plan and going over it with Mr. Wicket later. We will let you know what we can. We’re not holding you hostage, the storm is doing that.”
He gave one of his too charming smiles, and Kate gritted her teeth as he received a few in return.
“You may ask us questions this evening.”
And with that, Christian nudged the middle of her back and they settled in at the only empty table, near the front of the room, slightly apart from the others. Daisy immediately appeared with a fruit and cheese plate.
“What are you doing?” Kate hissed to Christian after the barmaid left.
“Helping.” He popped a piece of cheese in his mouth, as if he once more hadn’t a care in the world.
“I thought you wanted to search a few people and then call it quits?”
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun, Mr. Kaden.”
She huffed and leaned against the back of her chair. “I don’t need your help.”
He played with another piece of cheese, rolling it end over end. Finally he looked up, his eyes growing serious. “Maybe not, but I’m offering it.”
She blinked, her remaining ire draining away amid his sober demeanor and accommodating words.
“Do you mean that?”
His eyes shadowed, but he responded in an even tone. “I may not say the right things all the time, and it may not be what anyone wants to hear, but sometimes even I mean what I say.”
She saw truth in his eyes. A strange thing, really.
“But you said earlier that you were going to find the killer and then you seemed to give up when your search of Freewater’s room didn’t yield whatever it was you wanted.”
He picked up a piece of bread. “I said I was going to take a look at the body and search a few rooms. I did that.”
“Under a false identity,” she whispered.
“How do you know I’m not a Runner?” He winked, the earlier shadows dissipating as if they had never been.
She shook her head. She didn’t know if she felt up to the task of unraveling the intricacies of the man in front of her. Somehow it seemed a more difficult task than discovering what had happened to Janson. But she was more relieved than she allowed herself to let on that he was once more on the job.
They could help each other. It had nothing to do with wanting to strangle him one minute and let him do to her whatever his eyes kept promising the next.
“I could use the help,” she said tentatively, looking around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”
He smiled. “I’ve been in enough trouble. I think I can handle the authority aspects without too much difficulty.”
She didn’t know whether to return the smile, or frown.
Daisy appeared with two plates of beef and two bowls of stew, all balanced perfectly. “Here you go, sweet cheeks.” She gave Christian a saucy smile and winked at Kate. Kate forced a smile and dug into her stew. It was flavorful, the meat and vegetables tender and perfectly cooked.
Kate ignored the stares from the other patrons. Even the walls of the room appeared shadowed, as if reflecting the edgy and nervous feelings of the occupants.
“We should probably devise a plan, just like you suggested. We don’t even really know what we are searching for,” Kate said as she mopped up the last of her stew.
“Whatever he was murdered with, I suppose.”
“Any ideas?”
“Something heavy.”
Amusement and annoyance had never fit together as well as they did with Christian Black.
“Any more ideas?”
“Something wielded with force, judging by Janson’s head, but then too he could have sustained the damage from a fall off the gallery.”
“But you don’t believe that.”
He shook his head and played with his spoon, clinking it against the side of the bowl. “No. The broken leg is probably a result of the fall, but it’s just not that high for the type of damage he sustained to the back of his skull.”
“Perhaps the green cloth we found belongs to the killer. Caught in the scuffle?”
“Perhaps.” He gave her a smile that she automatically returned for once. “And we have those other things that we found.”
“Do tell what you’ve found, Black.” Desmond appeared at their table and sat down imperiously, his dark hair ruffling as he tossed his head.
Christian’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll know when everyone else does, Desmond.”
“Everyone knows that Lake did it, the jealous bastard. When are you going to arrest him?” Desmond drummed his fingers on the table.
“There’s no evidence that Lake did it.”
“You are the only ones that refuse to see the truth. Pretty obvious, even for a simpleton.” He gave Christian a once-over. “Or maybe you don’t know what you’re doing after all. I’m going to be a barrister. Perhaps I should take over this investigation.”
Kate watched, fascinated, as Christian relaxed against the back of his chair.
> “No, you won’t. I’ll have you strung up under Section Three of the Runner’s Code—for interfering with an investigation. Nasty business being prosecuted for Section Three, don’t you agree, Mr. Kaden?”
Kate nodded, trying to keep the bemusement from her face. She had no idea where Christan was going with his comments, but she didn’t much like Desmond. He seemed to have taken up Janson’s vendetta against Lake, and most likely all of Janson’s less appealing characteristics now that the man was no longer his leader. Lake, on the other hand, seemed like a nice enough man, if somewhat unlucky.
“Ever see a man hanged on a gibbet, Desmond? His eyes bulging, lips quivering, his last thoughts of his god and mama shown clearly on his face? Happened to Ronnie McTiernay for fighting old man Creeper, best Runner around. McTiernay barely had time to make out his will before they had him swinging. Creeper’s a friend of mine. A good friend. No, a great friend.”
Desmond shoved away from the table. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Black.”
“Well, best get them off me. I have plenty better offers already.”
Desmond shot him a disgusted look and slunk off to the darkened corners of the taproom.
Kate clutched her spoon. “Do you think it wise to make an enemy of him? After this is over, he may come after you.”
Christian smirked. “I’d like to see him try.”
“He could hurt you.”
“Why, Kate, I didn’t know you cared. Besides, if he tried anything, he’d be swinging before the week is out.”
“Shhh!” She looked around wildly to see if anyone had caught his use of her name. Only Olivia, Francine, and Freewater were left in the room, the others having returned to their rooms or gone to the taproom. Christian kept sending irritated glances Freewater’s way. “And you don’t really believe your own tripe, do you? Next you’ll be telling everyone you are a peer of the realm.”
“The Earl of Canley, at your service.” He gave a short bow, smirking the entire time.
She dropped her spoon and threw up her hands. “Fine. Let’s get back to Julius Janson. What are we searching for, other than the weapon and the garment that may have produced the fabric swatch in his hand? How about where the murder was committed?”
His brows knit, the smirk fading from his face as easily as peeling the outer skin from an onion.
“Somewhere near the gallery most likely in order for someone to toss him over.”
Kate nodded. “Why don’t we quickly search the rooms on this floor and then the gallery. I saw him standing out there last night, and his room leads directly onto it. It makes the most sense.”
Christian nodded and pushed away from the table, once again sending a look Freewater’s way. “Hold on for a moment, Kate.” He walked over to Freewater, and she followed in curiosity.
“Mr. Freewater, we finished searching your room. Do you mind turning out your pockets, so that we can eliminate you from our list of suspects?”
Freewater looked annoyed and huffed as he complied with the order. Kate watched with interest as the man’s face went completely white while patting an inner pocket. “What? Where?”
The man became frantic, and Kate watched Christian’s eyes narrow in speculation. “Have you lost something, Mr. Freewater?”
A bead of sweat ran down Freewater’s forehead. “No, no. Here, here is what is in my pocket.”
He held out a few pounds and a handkerchief. Christian made a point of examining the articles and then waved him off. “Thank you, Freewater. After seeing this, we may have further questions.”
“Yes, yes, as you will.” The man was already darting around the table and out of the room. Christian’s face looked torn between frustration and glee, neither of which she understood.
He turned toward her. “Shall we?”
They searched the kitchen, storage rooms, and private dining areas, but didn’t find anything interesting. The guests had started to return to their rooms, so Christian and Kate were surprised upon entering the upstairs gallery to see Nickford scraping at the railing.
“What are you doing, Mr. Nickford?”
“Gathering samples.”
Christian and Kate exchanged glances. “Samples for what?” she asked.
“For my experiment.”
“What experiment are you running?”
He scraped a few slivers into a small glass container. “I’m going to test to see if the spirits took Mr. Janson.”
Kate gaped and could see Christian’s eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. “The spirits?”
“Devilish things. They have been plaguing the inn for the last few days. Mr. Wicket said so. He said, ‘Nickford, didn’t you know, the spirits have been acting up?’ I, of course, determined to discover what was happening. Poor Mrs. Wicket has had a hard time sleeping lately. Always up and about roaming around with the dead.”
Kate would never have guessed Nickford could get any stranger.
“Er, wouldn’t you be taking away her company then, by ridding the inn of the, um, spirits?”
Christian sent her an amused glance.
“No, no. The spirits are most likely calling to her. Get rid of them and she’ll sleep peaceful-like again. Heard them calling last night, and then her up and roaming outside my room.”
Kate frowned. “She was roaming outside your room last night.”
“Oh yes. Heard a thud and a loud moan. Knew it had to be the spirits fussing with Mrs. Wicket again.”
Christian and Kate exchanged glances, and Christian finally leaned forward to stop Nickford from gathering more “evidence.”
“When did you hear this thud?”
“Round about half past two, I’d say.”
“Did you look out your door?”
“No, already knew what it was, didn’t I? But I set up a specter thingamajiggy. Should catch it tonight or tomorrow.”
Christian nodded absently, but Nickford looked expectant.
“I’m sure you will catch it, Mr. Nickford,” Kate said.
“Right good of you to say so, Mr. Kaden. Well, looks like I’m done here. Good evening.”
Kate examined the spot on the railing as soon as Nickford disappeared. It had been scraped clean. Christian bent below and examined the slats.
“Look.” He pointed to a spot on one of the slats.
Kate peered below and saw a darkened spot, as if blood had formed a small puddle there. “You think Nickford cleaned up the rest of the evidence? That these are bloodstains and this is the spot?”
She looked over the railing and saw that the snow below was slightly indented. Nothing too obvious, as the newly fallen flakes had covered the indentation. Still, it looked as if something might have landed there and been dragged away.
“The new trail Gordon made covered the tracks, but I’ll bet that is where the body landed and was dragged.”
“Nice work, Mr. Black.” Kate gave him an admiring glance, a real one, and he smiled back, a real smile in return.
“Oh, I think we make a good team, Kate.”
He didn’t move toward her, but the air felt a bit warmer, as if his body had suddenly grown closer. The air pricked her exposed skin as warmth caressed her less exposed areas.
She stumbled back into the railing and nicked her hand on one of the splinters created by Nickford’s tests. She jerked her hand away from the railing and was relieved to see the splintered edge was a few inches from the bloodstains.
“Kate?”
She waved him off and peered at her hand under the fading light. “Just a splinter from the rail.”
“Here, allow me.”
Before she could protest, Christian lifted her hand to inspect it. “Hmmm, looks like there is a sliver of wood in there. I should remove it.”
And with that she could only watch in shock as he took the side of her hand into his mouth, which was hot and wet and indescribable. His tongue looped around the underside and a shiver racked her body as he gently began to suck.
Chapter 9
Can’t do a damn thing right, boy. Might as well replace you with one of the scullery servants. At least in the trade I would get a son with half a brain.
The Marquess of Penderdale
to Christian, age ten
For Kate, splinter removal had always involved a needle and some painful poking. Who knew that all it took was a warm, talented mouth to get the job done?
Christian Black obviously had the right idea.
His teeth grazed the side of her palm, and she rose slightly onto her toes as her breath caught. Was that his tongue? What was he doing?
Heat shot through her body and her breath released in little pants as he continued to suck and lick and kiss the sensitive side of her hand. Unfamiliar sensations tingled across her skin and down her spine, spiraling somewhere near her middle.
Desire. She couldn’t stop her head from tilting back or her mouth from falling open as he held her gaze and nipped her hand. His blue eyes, dark and intense, were unrelenting as he licked and sucked and bit. She felt desirable for the first time in so many long weeks.
What would it be like to kiss this man?
Somehow her pinkie ended up in his mouth and she couldn’t withhold a moan as he slowly withdrew it with a pop.
He leaned forward, pressing her against the wood railing, his unshaved jaw lightly brushing her smooth cheek. He buried his head in her hair. He smelled like cinnamon.
He leaned back and removed something from his tongue. He winked as he held up the splinter and then flicked it over the railing. Before she could regain her thoughts, he spun her around, reversing their positions, so he was leaning back against the rail and she was nestled against him.
“Wouldn’t want you to get a splinter in a more delicate location, Kate.” His face was full of supreme male self-satisfaction. She didn’t have the presence of mind to say anything witty in return.
He pulled her body closer, and the heat curled in her middle moved farther south. His mouth was a hairsbreadth away from her own.
