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One man, two different personas.

If only they were actually two people.

Grace sat straighter.

Two different people? Was it possible?

What was it that had her so convinced James was the Rogue? The color of his eyes? His hair? They were distinctive to James.Well, almost.

Grace stilled, a curious sense of excitement growing.

The Rogue had green eyes, like James. But hazel could look green.

And the dark curls she’d seen when his hood fell down. James had dark curls, but Garrick did too. James’s were just auburn that looked black in shadows.

Her heart flipped. She’d felt stubble on his chin once when she’d gone for the mask.

Grace didn’t think she’d seen James anything but clean-shaven. She didn’t know how fast facial hair grew. A person wouldn’t need to shave if he was going to be wearing a mask, so it could still be James, but she could picture clearly the stubble on the jaw of the man who’d spent the whole day beside her.

Garrick or James?

Both were possible.

Except…

The excitement fizzled.

Garrick had been on patrol both times the Rogue appeared, just like he’d told Willa he would be back at the beginning of this madness. It couldn’t be him.

“Grace?” The Rogue’s mystically smooth voice caught her mid-processing, causing a little jump. The Rogue stood just inside the door in full disguise.

“You came.” Grace examined him, trying to see beyond the disguise to the man beneath, but it was no use.

He closed the door behind him and took a seat next to her, verdure cloak pooling around him.

Grace breathed in the scent of nutmeg.

“How are you?” he asked.

Grace looked into his eyes. Olive eyes. But they weren’t just green. There was a hint of brown in them. It was just that the Rogue’s all-green attire pulled at those olive tones.It can’t be Garrick!“I’m worried for Lizzy. For her brother,” she said.

The Rogue blinked, but didn’t end the eye contact. “Nothing good will come of this,” he whispered.

This? Meaning Cyrus’s arrest, or meaning the energy building between them?

Grace felt the pull increase the longer she gazed at him. She turned away. The surge of emotion warmed her, as it had in the forest fortress. But she couldn’t trust it. Not yet.

And what about Garrick?her heart thudded guiltily.Garrick. Garrick. Garrick. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? She’d spent the day beside him, she’d flirted and teased. She’d clung to his arm. And the kiss.

Grace groaned inwardly. What had she been thinking, kissing his cheek? She hadn’t been thinking, she’d been feeling. Feeling what, exactly? Gratitude? That was part of it, but more swirled within her. Pleasure didn’t seem sufficient. Attraction, either. Itwasn’t just his physique and face that had her bubbly. It was him.

And he was the son of Sheriff Clairmont. She was a Robbins. If he was actually as sweet as she now believed him to be, that kiss might have endangered him. The sheriff had been furious with Garrick just forstandingbeside Grace.

“Are you all right?”

A blush colored her cheeks.Forget Garrick. Think about the Rogue.“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Why was it that suddenly, the concerned way the Rogue looked at her reminded her of Garrick?

“I wish I could have stopped it,” he said.