by Aliyah Burke
People wanted her dead. It would be wise from me to learn about those after me. She sat up and drew her knees up to her chest. I wish Najja were here.
It was not to be so. She was on her own. London or Kittle Manor were not options for she had no wish to put anyone else in danger. That also eliminated Falcon House. Sure, they would welcome her, but there as Alexander to think of not to mention Najja carried another child.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Travel had always been something she wanted to do. Perhaps now would be the time. The Colonies perhaps. Jo got up, checked her appearance, and walked out to find Tryst sitting at the table, bare-chested and sewing his own shirt.
“Tell me everything about what I am now in and I will go with you. But no more lies. I mean it.”
Tryst paused and glanced up at the woman who stood before him. Jo. Her hair a wild blend of reds, coppers, and browns. He fantasized about her hair, having it trail over his skin as she rode him, wrapping his hands in it as he plundered the depths of her succulent mouth, or buried himself between her thighs.
Her blue eyes held a spark and warning. His shaft pressed tight against the linen material of his trousers. He slid closer to the table to keep his aroused state from her.
“The Alchemist had been brought in to the gaol by me along with the rest of my team. We were out celebrating at a small tavern before we each went home.” His hand shook and he hid the offensive limb in his lap. “But he escaped and came after us. I fought him and…killed him, or so I thought until I left the tavern where my friends had died and found the body gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. I had slung it over a horse and when I came back out it was gone.”
Her brows furrowed. “And no one said anything about what they saw?”
“No, everyone was dead. The exception was the barmaid who had been beaten yet left alive to give me the message.”
“Everyone?”
“Every last one. This man is not to be taken lightly, Jo. He is a serious threat who thinks nothing of killing.”
She licked her lips which caused his thoughts to head back toward the path best not traveled. “I still do not see why he is interested in me. I drew a design.”
“A man who kills like that is crazy.”
“How is that different from you?”
Cold slithered into his blood. “What? I am nothing like that bastard.”
“You go wherever and kill whoever based on one man’s orders. You are his assassin. Despite your claim it is for the Crown. Are you entirely sure?”
“I am not an assassin, I serve my king.” Her look was full of disbelief and he grew angry. “Assassins are evil people who take pleasure in the killing of others.”
Jo’s expression hardened. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward a brief bit. “I do not like to kill. Make no mistake. I will kill if the situation calls for it, but I do not like it.”
Jo leaned closer to him. Her thick lashes had a way of giving her sultry look. How am I supposed to keep her safe if my mind constantly created ways to torture me with images of her in my bed, naked and sated?
“So, it is okay when you do it, but no one else.”
She made it sound so perverse. He was proud of his service and refused to let it go.
“I already told you I do what I do for the Crown.”
“Always?”
He nodded. “If orders are ignored we have anarchy.”
She gained a smug expression. “Then you should leave. I remember Cam saying you were assigned elsewhere. I will be fine. After all, the woman I think of as a sister —according to you—is an assassin. I have learned from her.”
He longed to put his fist through the wall. She was twisting everything he said. She watched him, one eyebrow cocked as she waited for his response. He did not know what to say. She was right, he was disobeying a direct order by coming after her.
I had no choice. He would defy any order that kept him from Jo if she were in danger. Lines vanished when it came to her. He had the sinking feeling they always would.
“You are well aware I do not believe Najja evil. Stop trying to pick a fight.”
He could see her struggle not to lose her calm. “It is getting late, you better finish or saddle your horse because I will not have you here all night.”
An ugly thought filled his head. “Have someone stopping by?”
The flash of pain came and left in the space of a heartbeat but he saw it. “You got it. Are you finished? I have to eat.”
“You know damn well I am not.”
“Then maybe you should get on with it.”
She rose and cut some bread and cheese. He was surprised when some appeared before him. Not so much by the force, she slammed the plate down with.
They ate and he filled her in on what else had happened. Jo did not brush him off. In fact, she seemed very intrigued by the entire situation.
“You have been looking for him ever since that day then?”
He nodded. “Always had one part of me who has been waiting for him to resurface. As the years went by I focused on other things more.”
“And when you find him?”
“I make sure the bastard stays dead.”
She did not flinch from the ferocity in his tone as many women would have. Not Jo. She took the news without blinking.
“Not shocked by that?”
Jo got to her feet and returned with a lit candle. “I told you before I am not a weak woman. Do not expect me to act like some simpering London miss who has had everything she could ever want handed to her. Light is fading, you should probably finish your shirt before it gets cold.”
He watched her leave the room, head high, and with an entirely too seductive swing of her hips. Blowing out a deep breath, he finished the shirt he had been without for most of the time he had been with Jo and slid it back on. There was a slight twinge in his upper arm where she had cut him but she had done a great job sewing him up.
He had been lucky his reflexes were so good or that knife would have been embedded in his chest. She amazed him. He left to seek her out. He spied her outside exactly where he told her not to be—by Ptolemy.
Exiting her small home, he moved up toward her. The setting sun sent a small shaft of light against her. The dress she wore was simple, accentuating the slimness of her waist. One hand rested against the horse’s muscled neck. Lust stirred his loins and he forced it back under control.
“He is liable to take a chunk out of your arm.”
She never turned. “We have an understanding.”
He just bet they did. The wind blew and ruffled the fabric of her skirt. She finally turned to look at him and behind her Ptolemy eyed him before he laid his head over her shoulder.
Traitor horse.
“I cannot leave tonight. We can go wherever, but it will be come morning.”
He did not like the resignation in her voice. “I will keep you safe, Jo. I swear it.”
She absently scratched the head hanging on her shoulder. “I was safe, Tryst. And I am not going to let you lock me up in some room.”
He bet not, no matter how much he wished it. “This man is dangerous.”
“I refuse to live in fear. No, do not assume I ran because I was scared. I want my family and friends protected. So I did what I could to ensure that.”
His admiration grew for her. “No more running.”
She ignored him and pressed a kiss to his stallion’s nose. “Goodnight.” With the grace she possessed, Jo moved by him and back into her house.
Pivoting around he frowned. Surely, she did not think he would be leaving. He shook his head and strode to the door.
“Jo!”
She opened the door, her hair still confined at the base of her neck. A few wisps curled about her temples and ears. He almost smiled at the exasperation on her face.
“Why are you still here?”
“Let me in.”
Her brows furrowed. “Wh
y?”
“Because I am not leaving you unprotected.”
“And?”
“And I am not sleeping outside.”
She stared at him and he struggled with the urge to cover her mouth with his, thrust his tongue deep and…
Damn it! This was not going to be easy. He inhaled the gentle, alluring scent bombarding him. Such innocence. Such purity. Not for the likes of him.
“And you think we will share a house?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You slept under the same roof as Colin.”
“With others for chaperones. Not that it was an issue. From the beginning he has been all about Najja.”
“Worried about your virtue?”
She cocked a brow. “Worried about yours?”
God this woman! “I will be the perfect gentleman.”
She stepped back. “Were that so you would be getting a room elsewhere.” Pointing at a large sofa she said, “There you go.” She headed toward the one other room—the one with a door—in the quaint place, paused and glanced back at him. “I sleep armed, Wilkes. You would do well to remember such facts.”
“Good night my little hellcat.” He gave her a lewd wink and laughed as she flushed and slammed the door behind her.
It felt good to be lying down, even if it was not his bed. He had slept in far worse places. Even so, he only dozed, alert for any noises which did not belong. He woke to the almost nonexistent footsteps of Jo walking from her bedroom past him to the small kitchen.
He watched her from below lowered lids. She paused and glanced in his direction. He nearly groaned when her tongue snuck out to dampen her lower lips. Her mouth tantalized him to no end. He wanted her.
I have to keep my distance. His women were usually courtesans by trade and he had not been adverse to dalliances with married women who wanted something exciting other than their stodgy husbands. But Jo…he had given it all up, aside from a discreet rendezvous with a widow he had known for years, once he had met her. Still he wanted Jo. Who he craved with a possessiveness rivaling anything he had ever felt.
Yet he did his damndest to keep away from her. His life was not one that promoted a long healthy marriage and he had no wish to further endanger her. Therefore, he ignored the fire she created in his blood. It did not mean he would ignore that man kissing her. Callum Blackwood struck a chord of familiarity in him but he was not sure from where. Something to think on.
As if he had conjured him from his thoughts, there came a knock on the door. Before Trystan could get up and between Jo and the door, she opened it. Apparently, she had been expecting this person. He found himself staring at the overly arrogant and smug expression on the face of one Callum Blackwood.
“What are you doing here so early?” He growled the question, unable to keep it contained in his mouth.
Callum barely blinked. Instead, he nodded to Jo and, furthering Trystan’s dismay, she walked out with Callum, the door shutting behind them. A round of curses slipped free as he stomped to the door, raked a hand through his hair, and yanked it open.
He watched as Callum handed Jo a sheet of paper which she tucked inside her bodice without looking at it. Hands curled into fists as Callum bent down, captured Jo’s face with one hand, and brushed their lips together.
Tryst waited for the same treatment he had gotten those years ago. A knee to the privates. Never happened. In fact, Jo seemed a bit captivated by what just occurred.
What the hell?
Callum lifted his gaze and met his stare. Tryst itched to punch him in the smug face. Callum said something further to Jo and touched her chin again before he spun on a booted heel and retreated to his horse. He rode off without a single word to him.
Tryst blew out an angry breath. “Common for you to be kissing strange men in public?”
She stiffened before facing him. He ignored the lingering contented look on her face for it merely sent more anger through him. Her tanned skin bore a slight flush and it was a dagger to his heart to know that had been caused by another man’s kiss.
“He is not a stranger. And is it not a little early to be so uncouth, Mr. Wilkes?”
Mr. Wilkes. He hated it when she called him that. Or Lord Wilkes as she should call him. He preferred Tryst from her lips.
“Mr. Wilkes?”
She rolled her eyes and walked nearer. “Forgive me, Lord Wilkes.”
“Is he why you wanted me gone?”
Jo stared at him before returning to her house and disappearing inside. He followed grumbling under his breath. He had to stay in control.
“Gather some eggs,” she ordered the moment he reentered the home.
He blinked at her. “What?”
“Eggs. From the chickens. For the morning fare.” She gestured. “Take the basket.”
Surely she was kidding. The look on her face banished that thought. He grasped the handle and went back outside to where she had ten chickens in an enclosure. Another glance around before he proceeded in. They squawked and flapped around him as he did as she had commanded. Exiting the coop, he spied Ptolemy watching him. If horses could laugh, this one was.
“Do not make me regret saving your ugly hide all those years ago, horse,” he growled under his breath.
The stallion’s ears twitched and he snorted as if in disbelief. Trystan exhaled sharply and made his way back in the house. To his surprise, the rich aroma of food reached him.
“You cook?”
“The sooner you stop viewing me as some hapless twit, Trystan, the better it will be.” She took the basket from him and a grin lifted one half of her succulent mouth.
“Are you laughing at me?”
A slight hesitation. “Yes. Did the chickens give you a problem?” She chuckled and turned from him.
He touched his hair, frowning when he came away with feathers and straw. After he cleaned himself up, he returned to the kitchen. Jo placed food down between them and his stomach perked up in anticipation.
Food on his plate he looked up when Jo asked a question. “What?”
“I asked you what the plan was.”
“I get you somewhere safe.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “How are you going to find The Alchemist then? If you attempt to have me hidden away somewhere?”
He liked her confidence and her take-no-prisoners attitude. Still he frowned. “Cam and his crew will search.”
She leaned forward, spoon in her bowl. “We can look for them.”
Trystan shook his head in immediate refusal. “No way.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Think about it, Trystan. You know this person better than they do. I would be with you so you could keep me safe. You said it yourself that this person needed to be stopped.”
“Do you think I would risk you? Your life?”
“You already have. This would be different. I am aware and I could be of some help.”
“Help?” Good Lord was he actually considering this? Had he lost his facilities? Apparently.
“Help.” She shoved her bowl to the side. “It would be a sight more exciting than spending my days in a house unable to go anywhere.”
“This is not some game, Jo.” He clenched a hand into a fist. “He uses alchemy almost like magic as well as poisonous plants.”
“I am no fool. I know it is far from a game. However, I do actually have a brain you know. One of the first books I read was Compound of Alchymy or The Twelve Gates by George Ripley. I have also read Heinrich Khunrath’s manuscript—although it was never finished—Amphitheatrum sapientias aeternae. Papa also had a translation of the Emerald Tablet. He was interested in alchemy although his true passion deals with floridae.”
She shrugged. “Some days are just too hot in Africa to be out and so I read. Everything and anything.”
He was shocked. “Amphit…what?”
Her smile was not the least bit condescending. It was brilliant with her excitement. “It means ‘The Amphitheater of Eternal Wisdom.’“ She shift
ed in her seat. “So what is he after, the elixir of life? Or has he just created an order and is calling himself that? A fraction of another? What plants does he use for poisons? Is that why you have a Solanum pyracanthom on the top of your cane?”
His mind whirled at the speed and energy she spoke. “You know the flower on my cane.” It came out as a statement.
“My father compiles encyclopedias of flora. I know more about that than I do alchemy. Did you know it is in the nightshade family? It is more commonly known as Devil’s Thorn.”
