by Peter Dawes
“If you have any hope of confronting the Luminaries, it surely could.” For a flicker of a moment, genuine delight accompanied the rest of her expression. She bit into the apple once more and waited until she swallowed before she continued speaking. “Will your friend worry about you? The one I saw you with in the stables back where I retrieved you?”
I shrugged. “Perhaps I might send word to him of my plans so he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been on separate tasks for a period of time.”
“What does he do?” Jane raised an eyebrow.
My grin turned into a smirk. I paused to finish off the cheese and reached for another piece. “He’s a thief. I’m an assassin. When we’re working together, my job is usually to rid us of any guards or potential problems while he obtains whatever it is we came to snatch. It’s lucrative. Roland gets to charge extra for our services when we’re paired up.”
“Slippery devils, both of you, then.” She sat back in her chair, studying me in silence before lifting a foot and having it settle on my thigh. I tensed only from surprise, which spurred her to laugh. “You get this amusing look on your face when a proper woman advances upon you. Men are so predictable. Both receptive and offended when they’re not the one making the first move.”
“I think the greater concern is that my mind shifted from conversation toward other things.” I popped the rest of what I held into my mouth and dusted off my hands. Both palms settled on her leg once unencumbered, running up to the hem of her skirts and advancing beneath the folds. “At the same time, you show your hand, milady. It’s quite apparent that you missed me.”
“Perhaps.” One arm lifted, elbow coming to rest on the table top. She touched the corner of her mouth with her fingers and shifted her focus down to my hands. “Perhaps I’ve simply grown tired of pretenses. Us speaking of menial things like thievery and killing over a meal I can wait to consume. I’d much rather have other things first.”
“Other things, indeed.” Humming, I slid forward in my seat, deliberately shifting her foot to rest on my crotch. Her knee bent while my gaze darkened, my thoughts repeating the mantra that I needed to forget who and what she was for a time if this was going to work. I licked my lips as she pressed the bottom of her slipper against my length. “I thought I could focus on resting,” I said. “Alas, I grow impatient with myself. A day or several, either way I’ve not had you in far too long.”
“Your cock seems to agree with you, my rogue.” Her foot lowered from my chair, ending her ministrations for the time being and affording me a chance to regroup. I attempted not to look too relieved. Instead, I advanced closer to the edge of my chair while she did likewise to hers and placed both hands on my thighs. “Though your mouth indicates I’m not keeping you waiting enough,” she added. “Which am I to listen to?”
“To hell with my duplicitous words. Listen to my cock.”
I surged forward before I could lose the nerve for it, pressing my lips hard against hers and taking her in a wild, decadent kiss. Her taste settled in my mouth, her tongue sliding inside to dance with mine while I lifted a hand to grip the back of her neck. Not bothering to withhold a moan, I parted the kiss only to issue it forth and tugged her closer while plunging in again. Jane lifted slightly from her chair, coming to rest on my lap with her palms settling on my shoulders this time instead.
My other hand swept across the fabric of her dress, over one of her breasts and around to her back. She bit at my bottom lip and I groaned, shoving her more flush against me, allowing my actions to turn needier. Lady Cavendish didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the more adamant I got, the more she responded in kind, until I was left to wonder which of us was doing the seducing. Her mouth pulled away from mine so she could arch her back. I kissed down her neck to her throat and licked a trail back up to her ear. Pleasured noises lifted into the air, a response to the way my teeth teased at her skin.
“Hold on tight,” I murmured, forming the only warning I felt apt to give her. Both of my arms wrapped around her while hers circled my neck. As I stood with her, Jane’s legs settled around my hips, clenching my waist to offer leverage as I carried her. My first steps compensated for the added weight and the rest bore the apathy of an incensed lover. Throwing her down onto the bed with reckless abandon, I acted as though I had forgotten both her name and her station in life as I became swept up in her.
If Jane cared, or was any the wiser to me, she failed to make it apparent. She laughed as she hit the feather mattress, bouncing once before I could settle on top of her. I straddled her, pulling up the ends of my shirt and tossing the garment aside before leaning in close to her once more. Jane smirked and nipped at my lips, acting as though something hadn’t just caused her to tense. “What happened to that medallion of yours?” she asked between languid kisses.
I engaged her lips with mine for an especially long period, pushing up her skirts and allowing my fingers to dance up her legs. She broke the embrace with a sharp intake of breath when my thumb teased between her thighs, sliding against the slick evidence of her arousal. “I took it off,” I said, nipping my way over to the side of her neck again. Biting down hard, I smirked when she quivered, her body shaking in a manner which finally proved I had earned the upper hand. Jane’s nails dug into my upper arms while I continued teasing with my fingers. “It’s in my satchel for safe keeping. I didn’t realize you fancied it.”
“V-v-very much so.” Jane clenched her eyes shut and whimpered. I slid my thumb against her one last time before inserting longer digits into her. A loud moan served as my reward, prompting my teeth to blaze a trail down to the crook of her shoulder. While my hand worked on pleasuring her, I stole the chance to refocus my concentration. She dug channels in me and I felt the wounds weep small amounts of blood, but still, I managed to settle into a cadence with my ministrations bereft of any influence from her.
When my lips moved this time, it was not to kiss at her skin.
She called out my name and I whispered the words I had memorized, making certain not to say them louder than the noises she produced. Jane bucked her hips and shifted to force me deeper inside her, but I continued my rhythmic strokes undeterred. As each word passed through my lips, I focused more and more on the spell and less and less on her, missing the moment when she surrendered to oblivion. Her body slid up and down the sheets while I failed to pause.
“What are you doing, Christian?” she asked. I heard the question distantly. She gripped on harder and I smirked while repeating the spell I channeled over and over again. Each element came to me as I evoked them, the plea of my heart earnest and focused on something other than my selfish whims for a change. I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to ride to Taunton and know my brother’s family was safe. I wanted away from this circus and to put the nightmare of nine years to bed at last, regardless of whether that counted as a win or a loss.
All I needed to do was bind her to that bed.
Her hands fell away from me, thrown to each side while I reclaimed my hand. Jane let out a surprised cry and I forced my palm atop her mouth, lifting up enough to look her in the eyes. Whatever my gaze conveyed to her, it was enough to instill a look of fear in hers while her brow furrowed at me. I spoke the final words in Latin, lids drifting shut while the last of the energy I had gathered passed out from me and into the air around us. When I regarded her once more, I could not help but to smile at my handiwork.
Jane could not so much as shimmy, let alone force herself out from under me. I drew a shaky breath outward and released it slowly. “You are going to be trouble when I have to remove my hand,” I said, tsking as I studied her. She scowled and I sobered while considering her. “Were you to deliver me to them tonight? Shake your head or nod.”
The spell prevented her from issuing more than a small nod. At the same time, the answer sufficed. I frowned in response. “You knew I was wise to you,” I continued. The confused expression on Jane’s face caused me to pause and re-evaluate the presupposition.
I raised an eyebrow. “Or you weren’t sure yet, but your friends determined to act before I did become wise.” When Jane looked more confident of this, I nodded and sighed. “My, look at us. Back to where we began, with me sorting out what to do with you.”
She screamed something into my palm, her eyes wide as she did. I furrowed my brow, keeping my hand atop her mouth even when she persisted. Her head shook from side to side as much as possible and her eyes welled with tears, her emphatic speaking continuing despite the impotence of the action. A pang of temptation raced through me, wanting to know what she might be saying, but suspecting I would live to regret allowing her even a chance to cast magic against me. “No,” I said. “I’ve listened to your poison tongue long enough.”
Using my knee as leverage, I reached down with my unencumbered hand and tugged at the bed sheets. It took gritted teeth and determination for the fabric to rend, and an additional shift of my leg for me to free a panel of cloth entirely. As I pushed the linen beneath my other hand, I crammed it into her open mouth and muffled the few words she managed. “… Going to regret…” was all I could make out before I silenced the noble woman.
“My one regret is following you into this pit,” I retorted. Once I had her sufficiently gagged, I lifted up from the bed, swinging my leg over Jane and placing my foot down on the floor. Keeping attentive watch over her for several lingering moments, I ensured she truly couldn’t move and frowned against the compulsion to ensure it. A few more rips and a short time later, I had her limbs secured with something other than magic, setting my mind at ease enough for me to progress onward.
Jane cried and whimpered as loudly as she could manage while I shed the clothing she had forced upon me and took out what I had worn down to Plymouth. After slipping my legs into my pants, I thrust my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and sat on one of the empty chairs to put on my boots. The dagger Paolo had provided slid into the empty slot on my belt nicely, and once I had my cloak secured in place, I was ready to depart. Giving the dark folds of fabric an additional adjustment, I touched the embroidered rose and nodded once to myself.
“Time to leave,” I murmured to myself, collecting the remainder of my things and thrusting them into my satchel. I stole the remaining bread and cheese as well, cramming it in with everything else, and affixed the strap over my head. As I approached the closed door, I unsheathed the dagger and stole a deep breath.
The last moment before the plunge, I reminded myself, and once more, I was the assassin.
Opening the door, I didn’t miss one step in surging from the room and toward the first figure I spotted. It was the second of the two servants who had accompanied Lady Cavendish just a few minutes prior, poised by the stairs and shifting in my direction as he heard the incoming footfalls. I skidded to a stop behind him before he could fully turn, wrapping an arm around his neck while placing my blade against the peasant’s throat. My unencumbered hand clapping over his mouth, just as it had with Jane. “Your mistress is alive, but your future has suddenly become in question,” I whispered harshly into his ear. “I need a sword and an escort out. You are going to keep as quiet as possible while helping me with these requests, or I’ll be glad to show you the color of your blood before you perish.”
He nodded as much as he dared without slicing himself in the process. I strode forward with him, descending the steps one at a time in a careful, measured pace while watching for any potential complications. Nobody stood at the foot of the stairs, and not a soul awaited us as we wandered through the great hall. The servant led me past the entrance and toward one of the side rooms, gesturing at a shut door as we approached.
“Open it,” I said, keeping the volume of my voice low. “And bring the sword to me.”
I slowly allowed him to step out from my arms and kept a wary eye on him while he opened the door. Lingering at the entrance, he pivoted to scowl at me. “Go in and get one yourself,” he said. For as bold as he was to spit the words at me, he at least had not been daft enough to say them at full volume.
“I’m not a fool. Armories only have entrance. You would shut me in the moment I entered.”
He narrowed his eyes, but wisely offered no further rebuttal. Walking into the small, dark room, he emerged only seconds later holding a sheathed sword. “You call me the fool, but I think you’re a worse one than me,” he said. “The Luminaries will have your head.”
“If only I didn’t have something of theirs. I’m certain they would otherwise.” Ripping the sword out from his grip, I secured it on my hip and kept the dagger pointed at the servant. Without taking my eyes off him, I nodded toward the front door. “Now, the escort out. You’re perilously close to retaining your life if you continue to cooperate.”
I watched the lump in his throat bob as he nodded. He turned his back partly to me, keeping me in his periphery while leading me back to the great hall. We came within inches of the doors when another set of feet paused at the bottom of the staircase, a gasp preempting any chance I had of silencing the newfound interloper.
Frances, the matronly woman, cried out in a shrill voice, “The rogue is escaping! Find the Lady of the house!”
As I spun around to catch her in my sights, my captive rushed at me, attempting to dislodge my footing. I stumbled backward, swiping the blade at him and missing him with my first attempt. While he failed to knock me over, he caught me by surprise enough to throw a punch that narrowly avoided connecting with my jaw. I gripped tight onto the dagger’s hilt and thrust it forward, catching him in his shoulder and pulling it out before swiping the blade across his throat.
Blood poured from the wound. He reached with both hands to clutch at it and fell over when unable to support his own weight. I cast a quick glance at the woman, in time to see her retreat backward and up the stairs again. At the same time, the clamor of footfalls told me this was about to get perilous fast. Wiping the crimson staining the blade on my cloak, I shoved the dagger back into its sheath and ran for the doors.
Pushing them open, I spirited onward, feet moving at full speed while the sparse light of the setting sun shone the path toward the stables. Shouts rose from the manor behind me, producing enough urgency to demand I continue running, knowing that the moment Jane was freed, I faced the risk of being detained despite my best efforts to avoid it. Guards poured out of the servant house. Two men by the stables saw me approach and unsheathed their swords, the taller of the two racing forward to engage me. I drew my blade and sped to meet his advance.
Anticipating his first blow, I ducked out of the way and used my momentum to spin around. He presented his back to me long enough for me to swing at it, cutting into the fabric of his cloak and scratching him deep enough for him to cry out in pain. He stumbled forward and I thrust the blade through him, retracting it just as he fell forward. His sword dropped to his side and I picked it up while turning to face his compatriot.
The other man scurried away from the pens, distracted momentarily by the horses as all but Tempest reacted to the sound of violence and the smell of blood. I readied myself as he swung for me, lifting one blade to engage his sword while thrusting the other into his stomach. It remained inside him, abandoned when I shoved him to the side and cleared the path to Tempest’s stall. The mare whinnied and reared, but appeared more unnerved by the other horses than the source of their agitation.
“Good girl,” I said, wiping the blade clean before sheathing the sword. I reached for her saddle. “I apologize for the journey ahead of us, but it’s necessary. Perhaps somebody in London town might give you a better home.”
She snorted as I secured the saddle on her back, but cooperated. I had her bit secured in her mouth at the moment the next set of guards reached us. “Be good and wait for me,” I said, patting the mare before leaping over her gate. As I landed on the other side, I produced the sword again and nodded at the first contender.
He wasted no time in coming for me.
I lifted my sword to deflect his first blow, pivoting ou
t of the way from the next attempt and managing a swipe across his upper arm. He emitted a yelp of pain and turned to face me. Another series of blows yielded a moment of vulnerability, which I used to my benefit. Thrusting my blade through his chest, I pulled the sword out as I heard steps and a swooshing sound behind me.
I dove to the ground, aware of a slice which cut across the back of my neck. The onslaught afforded me no chance to recognize it with anything other than a wince. Rolling out of the way of the next plunge downward, I scrambled to my feet in time to parry this guard’s next attempt, exchanging blows with him while gritting my teeth. His miscalculated his next swipe, and fortune smiled down on me when the unexpected failure put him at a loss. I knocked his weapon from his hands and slashed across his throat, freeing my concentration just in time for me to spot a final guard fleeing from the stables.
Dashing for him, I produced the dagger Paolo had given me and threw it at him. When it plunged between his shoulder blades, he fell to the ground and I nodded, satisfied enough with the effort to direct my focus back to my horse. “Let’s get out of here, girl. What do you say?” I murmured, cleaning off the blade again and securing it into place before jumping the gate again.
Tempest protested as the volume of the other horses rose to cacophonous levels. I stole a moment to calm her, finally assessing the cut on my neck as well and breathing a sigh of relief once I realized it would bleed, but hardly kill me. “No time to bandage it,” I said, although thoughts of finding the first apothecary past Plymouth danced in the back of my mind. All I needed was to make it out of here. And I could taste freedom at last.
I opened the gate and mounted the horse. Gripping onto her lead, I squeezed her sides, grateful when the mare cooperated and trotted out of her enclosure. We turned to face the exit and another nudge launched her forward; another tug of her reins turned her toward the road leading out of the manor. As we galloped for the path leading into town, I freed a hand to draw my sword and stared down the last resistance the fortress had to offer.
