“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 chasing 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.

Hell, it wasn’t Christian’s fault that Anthony’s aunt had involuntarily given it away. So, yes, he had arrived at her house a day late due to a hangover and extenuating circumstances involving long, shapely legs wrapped around his, but he hadn’t been that late. Not late enough to anticipate that someone would steal the damn thing before he got there. What had Anthony been thinking to leave the journal with his crazy aunt? A voice in his head that sounded remarkably like his father’s asked, What had Anthony been thinking of to give Christian the task of appropriating something of such obvious value?

Christian pushed the voice away with a snarl and a second swig of bitter ale. Great. That was all he needed, the sound of his father’s condescending voice echoing in the void. He’d just visit his father at Rosewood Manor if he felt like punishing himself.

Christian watched a scuffle break out among the patrons at two of the large benched tables in the middle of the room. One of the men lunged, and a brawl began in earnest. Probably a fight over some woman or someone’s pride or honor.

The fight mirrored his sudden change in mood.

He leaned back, shifting to keep the front of the hard chair from digging into his backside. He had at least an hour or two more before Freewater would show for supper. Plenty of time to drink a few pints and indulge in a bit of mischief if he wanted to join the fray or banter with his roommate.

A swatch of brown caught his attention. His eyes followed Kate as she picked up two empty mugs on a table. It still amazed him that no one seemed to realize she was female. She blended into the background so well that most of the patrons barely spared her a glance.

What did she look like beneath the oversized men’s garments? He wanted to strip her of her outer coverings and get rid of that damn cap and head wrap thing. She would never be a showy beauty, but she had a quiet prettiness. And there was a spark to her that vied with her demure looks. A zest—the real kind, not the type expertly faked by a courtesan trying to catch a man’s eye.

Yes, a tumble between the sheets with the fey lady would be quite an adventure. More so than with some practiced barmaid, no matter how lusciously endowed. Now if only he could get past the outrage and propriety she had shown. All it took was the right phrase or words of encouragement to get most women beyond proper…and properly out of their clothes.

He was on a time constraint, but that only made it more of a challenge. Kate bent over to assist a man on the floor, providing Christian with an excellent view of her backside. Yes, the challenge was definitely going to be worth the effort. Now to figure out how to remove those nicely clinging breeches…

Stuck in his musings over Kate’s shapely backside, Christian barely had time to register the fist flying toward his face.