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.

“Unless of course, you want me to remove another splinter? I would be happy to chase them all over your body.”

His voice was husky; his warm cinnamon breath caressed her lips as his hovered millimeters over hers.

“I…”

Her eyes were focused on his lips, waiting for them to connect with hers, but they curled upward instead.

He pushed away from the rail, hot and hard against her. His lips brushed the lobe of her good ear. “Perhaps later, then? Hmmm?”

“Perhaps,” she whispered, her mouth developing a mind of its own.

“Excellent.” His jaw brushed against her cheek again and he straightened. “Come. While Nickford is downstairs, let’s search his room.”

Kate nodded, trying to organize her muddled thoughts. A thread of delight filtered through her. He wanted her. Poor, damaged Kate.

Her temporary delight shriveled back to the shadows. He had no idea that she was scarred, and when he did, how would he express his revulsion? Connor had treated her well until she had removed her head covering. After she had removed it, things…things hadn’t gone so well.

Christian tugged her hand, releasing it as they entered the common room.

For emotional survival, Kate had to keep the relationship with Christian strictly geared toward the investigation. No more personal involvement or physical innuendos.

She couldn’t afford the rejection.

For whatever reason, whether it was the hazardous situation, the high possibility for rejection, or just Christian himself, seductive and worldly, Kate felt more was at stake than with any previous suitor or flirtation. Her feelings were more intense toward Christian Black than she had ever felt toward another.

She couldn’t let him hurt her. She would reject him first.

Christian inserted the key in the lock and they stepped inside Nickford’s room. It was in chaos, just as it had been the night before. A mountain of clothes was heaped across a chair. Empty dishes and leftover food were stacked on a table. Journals and equipment littered the makeshift workspaces and bed. The pallet sat innocuously on the floor.

She nervously touched the knotty wood wall. As soon as he made a move toward her, she would reject him. It was for the best. No matter that her body screamed otherwise. No matter that a tendril of happiness had been stirred, the first in so long.

She waited as Christian started flipping through journals. Wasn’t he going to continue his seduction? He had said later, but she didn’t think he was the type to employ self-control. Any minute now he would make his move.

She had known the man for merely two days, and there was little evidence to prove he wasn’t the scoundrel ninety percent of his gestures claimed him.

He stepped in front of you, guarded you in the taproom fight.

She scoffed. He would have done it for Daisy.

But doesn’t that mean he isn’t a complete scoundrel?

It meant he looked out for his own interests. He was probably waiting to make a final move on her, deliberately laying the groundwork piece by piece to keep her off balance.

Or maybe he isn’t quite as interested in you as you are in him.

She grudgingly admitted that her feminine side most definitely wanted his attention. Christian was a very handsome and charming man. Dashing. Most women would feel flattered to be the center of his focus. But that was just it. He was the type of man to concentrate intensely on one woman, only to drop her and be off as soon as his attention wavered to the next bit of muslin. Or as soon as he saw her scars.

Not all charmers have ill intent.

The annoying little voice in her head needed to stop playing devil’s advocate.

Some rogues turned out to be quite the catch. The most infamous rascal in their county being Joshua McShaver, the rakish cobbler, who rivaled anyone in the Midland villages in his number of sheer conquests. Then one summer afternoon he met Caroline Travis, a woman who had just moved to their village. Within a week he had chased, caught, and married her, surprising everyone in the district and causing massive sums of money to exchange hands in lost bets.

Joshua was an utterly devoted husband, and the look in his eyes when he gazed on his wife made more than one woman sigh dreamily. Something about Caroline Travis had ensnared him as no other woman within fifty miles had been able to accomplish.

Kate didn’t quite see herself as the Caroline to Christian’s Joshua though. Christian seemed to be more worldly, for one, and more cynical for another.

She covertly studied him. She had known him only two days. But then Caroline and Joshua had known each other only ten minutes before he began the chase, and look how that relationship had turned out.

Will you deny the happiness you so desperately seek because of fear?

She scoffed. She didn’t fear rejection. She just awaited it with all the trepidation of the hangman’s noose.

Oh, all right, fine. She feared it. She just wished the bothersome voice in her head would pick a side and stick with it.

Kate left Christian to the journals, which he was meticulously opening, examining, and discarding. She picked through the items nearest the door. The vial of bloodstained slivers was there, as was a stained handkerchief and a stamp with red wax adhering to the edges. The image on the stamp was a leaping lion. Kate made a mental note of the items, and looked up to see Christian muttering disgustedly as he closed the last journal and tossed it in the pile.

“What?”

He waved her off. Working through the rest of the room, they examined the catapult Nickford had been working on the day before. There was little else of interest until Christian reached under the bed and pulled out a metal pipe. He hefted it and looked speculatively at the pile near the door.

“A good murder weapon, no?”

Kate lifted her brows. “Wouldn’t there be dried blood on it?”

“Not if he wiped it on that handkerchief.”

He pointed to the handkerchief she had found. She looked back to the pile with the slivers and the stamp. “The red stains could be from the sealing wax.”

Christian smiled. “We’ll make a Runner of you yet.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the pleasurable tingles his genuine smile elicited. She took the pipe and rolled it in her hands. It looked clean, though again they couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been wiped clean the night before.

Kate took a last gander around the room. “Do you think we should move on to another room?”

Christian appeared to consider their alternatives. “Sure, let’s visit Lake’s next.”

Kate nodded, conflicted on the temporary reprieve from returning to their room. He touched her hand lightly as he locked Nickford’s room, and she wondered if it was by accident or design. He gestured for her to lead the way. No teasing smile anywhere on his face, just a certain watchfulness.

Kate’s mind whirled as she walked to Lake’s room. That look. The one that Joshua had given Caroline when he wasn’t sure if he was moving too fast and was very concerned with the result.

Was it just her imagination desperately conjuring the images she wished to see?

Kate snapped to attention as Christian nudged her with his hip. She had just been staring at Lake’s door—daydreaming. How mortifying. That had happened far too frequently of late. She knocked. No one answered, so Christian inserted the key and unlocked the door.

If they had thought Nickford’s room was messy, Lake’s was a sty. Clothes were strewn everywhere, as if thrown in a jealous rage. Perhaps during the breakage the night before. Sure enough, there was shattered glass in one corner that had been poorly swept to the side.

Kate knelt by the glass shards, touched the discoloration, and brought her fingers to her nose. Judging by the smell, the liquid had been from an oil lamp.

“Does Lake want to burn down the inn?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t be a very good way to woo a woman by burning down her family’s business.”

“I wouldn’t think so, no.”

They searched through the rubble, shifting things from one pile to another.

“Look at this, Christian.” Kate held up a cricket bat. Various colors and stains decorated the surface, but one most definitely looked like blood.

Christian reached for the bat. “That would surely make a dent.”

“And there appears to be dried blood on it.”

“You think Lake bludgeoned Janson with his cricket bat? Seems a fitting weapon, actually, since they were rivals.”

She nodded.

He looked distracted. “There was an indentation in the wood railing. Let me check something, I’ll be right back.”

Christian walked from the room, leaving Kate alone with the bat in hand. Something twinkled in the corner and she walked over to examine it. Broken glass, but not the same quality or kind as the glass from the lamp. This was darker in color. She turned it over in her hand, wondering what it was from.

Another oil lamp? Lawrence Lake seemed prone to smashing glass.

“Good evening, Mr. Kaden.”

Kate whipped around, startled to see Lake standing in the doorway, staring intently at the bat in her hand. His expression grew sinister as he lifted his eyes to hers, stepped inside the room, and closed the door.