by Tamara Gill
Edward headed out of the library. “I’ll gather the team and meet you in the carriage at the back of the house.”
Rogers appeared at the door. “What can I do, sir?”
“When Kitty returns, just tell her I had to slip out for a bit, but that I’ll be back. I don’t want her leaving Kisswyck. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Rogers said.
And with that, Alex was out of the house on his way to tracking down Thomas’s killer.
Chapter Ten
Kitty had been wrong in her assessment of herself. Not only was she not carrying on like a sane woman, she wasn’t even acting in the manner of the daftest specimen of her sex. She was totally thinking like a man.
God help her.
Alex was going to kill her for sure when he found her.
If he found her, that was.
She didn’t even know where the bloody hell she was running off to. How could she expect Alex to know?
She gulped a deep breath.
Her brute with the pistol was ace at traipsing through wooded terrain. He’d obviously done this before and not just once or twice but probably many times over.
Unlike her.
Whomever thought women benefitted from sitting for hours gossiping and needlepointing, was doing her sex a great injustice. From this day forward, she was definitely going to challenge herself on a physical level, for the next villain she’d chase was not going to outrun her.
As if she’d ever be in this position again. Once she married Alex, no way would she be allowed to be an assassin. Her prince had already informed her she’d have to shut down her father’s undercover press. And she was certain chasing criminals was even more out of line than running a scandalous newspaper.
Blasted propriety.
A large tree root, one that had the gall to rise above ground and not stay hidden as was customary, caught her off guard and snagged her soon-to-be completely shredded slipper.
She stumbled, but quickly righted herself.
The man’s panting breath echoed somewhere ahead of her, sending a wave of relief coursing through her nerves. Thank goodness the brute was a heavy breather as she no longer could see the outline of his fast-moving body.
She kept running.
Pain flared in her feet. She didn’t even want to think what her soles looked like as she was more than certain they were scraped to the point of bleeding, but she hadn’t the time to look down and see to their treatment.
Passing a copse of oak trees, a glimmer of hope sparked in Kitty’s soul.
From her vantage point, she noted that not too far ahead, the tree-dense area gave way to an expanse of well-trimmed lawn that eventually sloped to a span of gravel.
Kitty panted.
She was not going to give into her now quickening pace of breath. She’d come too far for defeat.
Three paces more and her assailant was once again within her range of sight.
Until a damn carriage rolled up, door wide open.
Son of a gun!
Her forest brute obviously had made plans. Well laid plans.
Poppycock.
She slipped her dagger back into the sheath at her thigh and then ran for the carriage.
Stars invaded her vision as the ground beneath her feet switched from grass to gravel. She’d never felt pain so brutal in all her life. But then she thought of Thomas and the pain he must have endured having had his throat slit. Her feet would survive.
She neared the brute’s carriage.
With a leap, the man bolted inside the black cab and slammed the door.
She was not going to lose the bastard.
The vehicle pulled away.
A scream lodged in her throat. She wanted nothing more than to shout, cry, call out every obscenity her supposedly prim and proper tongue knew. But alarming her target was not in her best interest.
So she remained silent.
But not still.
With a lunge, Kitty successfully landed on the carriage’s back box, though in truth her success was more akin to the barest description of the word. Never mind the toll the nerve-racking ordeal had cost her now scraped hands.
She took a moment to catch her breath.
While flying through the air had been exhilarating, she prayed to God she wouldn’t have to do it again. If she were meant to act as a bird, the Almighty would have given her wings. Which He most certainly had not.
Steadying herself, Kitty turned around and planted her arse securely into the outdoor seat.
Her heart pounded.
She had no idea where she was going.
But that little fact paled in comparison to what she now realized was facing her or rather chasing after the back of her brute’s carriage.
And call her daft, but she doubted a horde of blood-thirsty Wolfhounds were about to be her saving grace.
***
Alex hadn’t gotten more than two feet out of Kisswyck’s back hall when Rogers’s shouting voice called after him.
He turned around.
“Sorry to stop you sir, but Prince Edward sent word that the dogs have gotten lose.”
His Wolfhounds rarely left the property. “That’s not like them.”
“Agreed,” Rogers said. “Which is why I thought it imperative to inform you before you left. And while I’ve already sent several grooms to go fetch them back, I fear they will only listen to you if they are distressed.”
His butler was more than correct. Culain and the rest of the dog pack would never listen to Kisswyck’s grooms if they were of a determined mindset. “I’ll go see what they’re up to.”
Rogers nodded, then turned back toward the house.
Alex headed for the waiting carriage. His brother stood outside the vehicle, one hand on his walking stick, the other fisted at his hip.
As Alex approached Edward, he glared at his brother. “What do you mean sending word to the house that the dogs have accidentally gotten lose?” His Wolfhounds never left the property unless it was to follow him or one of his men to whom they had become loyal to.
“Don’t blame me for those mutts being on the chase. One of your footmen came running up from the kennels shouting that Culain was on the warpath.”
Devil claim him. Culain was the loyalist of his dogs and the smartest. He was also the largest, and the massive animal did not flee his pen unless he had good reason to. “I’m going after him.”
Edward backed away from the carriage. “You’re more concerned with a damn dog than capturing a killer?”
“No. I’m more concerned with my best man having gotten so riled up, he’s fled the safety of his kennel and taken his cohorts with him.”
“They’re bloody dogs, Alex. Not humans.”
He rounded on Edward. “Culain is a full-fledged member of my team. He’s better trained than any man under my supervision. Now if that is not human enough to garner your concern, then so be it. But I am going to go after my dogs just as I would your sorry arse if you were in a fit of distress.”
Edward tossed his walking stick into the carriage and followed Alex. “Damn it, brother. I swear I’d fair better facing Mother’s bloody chair rung.”
“That may be, but a lifeless chair rung does not offer this much excitement. Plus, the whack it inflicts, hurts like hell.”
“And Culain’s bite doesn’t?”
“Only at first. By the time he’s fully set his teeth into you, your nerves go numb.”
Edward’s eyes bulged.
Alex smirked. “I’m joking, brother. Culain is harmless. The two of us have more to fear when we get back and have to face a ranting Catherine angry over us having left her behind. Trust me on that. A woman’s bark is far worse than a dog’s.”
Chapter Eleven
The carriage Kitty had hitched a ride on, came to a sudden halt.
Too bad the dogs chasing the vehicle didn’t stop as well.
Of course they probably saw her as super, so she really couldn’t blame them for
drooling.
And barking.
Not even for snarling. She mustn’t dismiss the snarling.
The dogs paced.
The pack’s leader, a large gray beast who appeared as large as a horse, lunged forward.
Kitty covered her face with her arms and winced.
She waited to feel the pinch of sharp canines digging into her flesh.
No pain came.
Instead, the dog sniffed her, licked her face and her arms.
She dropped her hands from her face.
The large beast’s pack remained barking at her feet.
If she had any luck, the barking alone would force her pistol-toting brute to remain inside the carriage until she could think up some viable scheme of facing off with the man.
The slam of a carriage door echoed.
Bloody awful beast.
She reached for the dagger at her thigh and once again removed the blade from its sheath.
The dog at her side snarled. It also leaned over her, or more correctly, stepped over her, its massive paws digging into her legs.
It growled.
“You’re a feisty animal,” the man from the carriage said.
“He is indeed,” Kitty added. “I advise you to step away or he will take off your face.”
“Dogs don’t frighten me.”
“They should. At least this one should.”
The man tsked. “You should have run home when you had the chance.” He raised his pistol and aimed it level with her head.
“Please, sir. Humor me before you kill me and at least give me your name.”
“I told you, my name is not important.”
“Perhaps to you it is not. But I’d like to know the man who is about to send me off to Heaven.”
“You sound sure of the fact that’s where you’ll end up.”
Kitty gently pushed the massive dog on her lap slightly away as it wasn’t easy viewing her killer with dog hair cloudy her view. “Are you insinuating I have committed sins, sir?”
The man chuckled. “Any woman who is a man’s equal, surely must be guilty of something.” He steadied his armed hand. “Until we meet again. In Hell. Miss Culpepper.”
He knew her name all along.
“Wait,” Kitty shouted.
The man backed down. “What the bloody hell for?”
“How do you know my name? Give me at least that much.”
The man hesitated. “I knew your brother.”
She loosened her grip on the dagger. “You knew Thomas?”
“Yes. More than I cared to know, if I am to be honest with you. Which, I don’t know why I am compelled to be with you, but I am. I’m also very sorry for what I have done.” The man paused, stared her in the eyes with what she believed was a sense of…remorse?
“How did you know him?”
“He befriended me. But then Thomas crossed the line and I had no choice but to end his life.”
She gasped. “You’re the man who killed my brother!”
“I don’t expect you to understand, Miss Culpepper.”
“You’re right on that note, sir. I most certainly do not understand how you could have murdered my innocent, kind, brother.”
The man laughed. “He was far from innocent.”
“What did Thomas do that was so wrong?”
“He uncovered the heart of the anti-monarchist movement. And for that, I could not allow him to continue to live.”
She’d never come face to face with an anti-monarchist before. Well, at least not one as vile as this man who refused to give her his name. “Are you a member of those blasted snakes? Is that why you have snake encrusted buttons on your coat?”
“Do you mean the Knights Venomous?”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s the bloody group.”
“I am.”
Kitty harrumphed. “And pray tell, what is your exalted position among those blasted beasts.”
“I am their everything.”
She swallowed. “As in their leader?”
“My father was their founder. I inherited the organization when he was killed.”
Holy Mother Mary, she was sitting on the back of a carriage belonging to Countavia’s number one enemy, criminal, and killer. “Thomas knew this, I take it?”
“Your brother was a very clever man. It didn’t take him long to figure out who I was. Nor did it take him long to uncover my background and why my father had formed the group in the first place. I couldn’t risk that information coming out.”
“Why? Fear you’d be caught and sent to the gallows?”
The man hesitated.
Truth be told, he didn’t look much like a criminal, let alone a cold-blooded killer. But he had admitted to Thomas’s murder.
“The gallows,” he said, “I can handle. As I am fully prepared to pay for my sins and to sacrifice for the cause. I came to terms with that outcome when I was but a boy. My father instilled in me from a very young age that one day I would die for helping bring down the Baine monarchy.”
She didn’t like this man hating Alex’s family. “What did the Baines do to you that you could hate them so?”
“They destroyed my family.”
Kitty shrugged. “Then why not negotiate with them. Make them compensate you in some way rather than kill a slew of men.”
Her captor leaned on the carriage’s wheel. “This is a game of kings, Miss Culpepper. Thrones, crowns, bloodlines. You have no idea the crime that has been committed by King Bertram. His sons, and those who support the monarchy in general, are just as guilty. For they are all part of the coverup, even if they are unaware of their crimes.”
“That sounds mighty unfair, to be held accountable for a sin you aren’t even aware you have committed.”
“As I said, Miss Culpepper. This is a game of kings, not commoners.” He paused. “Though I am sorry you have been entangled in it. I hold no ill will against you, but I see no way to let you live.”
Folding her fingers over the hilt of her dagger, Kitty reclaimed the grip she’d previously had on the weapon. “Prince Alexander will come after you with a vengeance, should you kill me.”
“As I said before, I have no fear of dying.”
At least one of them didn’t.
The man raised his arm, but this time he aimed for the dog on Kitty’s legs.
“Don’t!” she shouted as she hurled her dagger straight for the brute’s wrist.
And promptly missed.
But thankfully, not by much, judging how the man had fallen to the floor, her blade now firmly lodged in his forearm, blood trickling from the slice it had managed to carve in the brute’s flesh.
“For the love of God, Kitty,” Alex’s voice called from somewhere to the side of the carriage.
The prince stepped forward.
Edward and three other men came into her view as well and pulled her assailant to his feet.
A group of grooms rallied the dogs, but not the massive one who had fancied stepping on her. That hound remained at her side.
Alex came to stand in front of her and offered her his hand.
The dog whined.
“It’s all right, Culain. Kitty is safe.”
The dog laid down on her lap. “Oof, he’s heavy.”
“Come, Culain.” Alex motioned with his fingers for the dog to come his way.
Culain obeyed. “Good boy.”
A groom collected the large dog.
Kitty remained in her seat.
Alex turned back to face her, his brown eyes bearing a hardened glare. “Care to explain yourself?”
“I capture Thomas’s killer and that is all you have to say to me?”
Alex’s mouth gaped.
Kitty slid her arse off the seat and then took the small leap to the ground. She winced upon landing, having forgotten her bloodied feet.
“You did what?”
She raised her head, high. “Yes, that’s correct. I found, chased, and managed to take down the man who slit my
brother’s throat. Single handedly, mind you. Not a male soul in sight.” She headed down the road, ignoring the pain in her feet.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home, Your Royal Highness. As in Mr. Culpepper’s townhouse. In Landon. Far away from you and your blasted team of assassins.”
“You’ll never make it.”
“Will to.” She winced a second time. Her feet hurt like hell but she’d be damned before she’d admit defeat to Alex.
She marched on.
A huff came up from behind her.
As did the flow of enticing spices mixed with lemon.
Why the deuces did her prince have to smell so damn delicious? She’d rather he smelled of sweat and horse dung. Then she wouldn’t be craving the unnerving man.
“Let me give you a ride home, Catherine.”
“No, thank you.”
“But your slippers are all bloodied.”
“I do not need a man to cart me home.”
“Fine,” Alex said, scooping her up. “Then I’ll carry you home.”
“You cannot carry me all the way to Landon. That would be an impossible feat, even for a strapping man such as yourself.”
“You think me strapping?”
“That’s not the point.”
Alex looked straight ahead. “I’m not taking you to Landon. I’m bringing you back to Kisswyck, where you’ll stay in bed until your bloody feet have healed, even if I have to force you to remain in bed.”
“And then what? Will you also force me to marry you? You’re already forcing me to destroy my reputation by holding me hostage at Kisswyck.”
“Is that how you see it?”
“Indeed, I do.”
“Have no fear, Miss Culpepper. I assure you, your reputation shall remain intact.”
Crikey. She’d really ticked him off now as his use of Miss Culpepper was more than a bit telling of his mood.
She didn’t say another word all the way back to Kisswyck, which was quite the distance.
Unfortunately, Alex remained just as silent, but he took it one step further and even refused to speak to her when he set her down in his bed before leaving to fetch a doctor to treat her.
Chapter Twelve
Two weeks later…
Mel sauntered into the drawing room, a letter clasped in her delicate hands. “An invitation from the palace has arrived.”
