by Tamara Gill
Mel glowered at her.
“I’m just saying.” She dropped her gaze to the floor and studied the green marble tile at her feet.
Edward’s highly polished boots came into view. “Move it,” he ordered before patting her on the back with a bit more than just a slight push.
Kitty, along with Mel and all the real men assembled in the corridor, scurried into the room. She immediately scrunched her nose. “Apparently, assassins don’t bathe.”
“This is The Wharf,” Mel commented. “The home of seafaring pirates and riffraff. What did you expect?”
“A bit of decency. Is that too much to ask for?”
“I don’t believe bathing is a priority when all one is concerned with is slicing another’s throat.”
“But odor is a dead giveaway. How can you surprise your target if he can smell you a mile away?”
“Care to share your conversation, Master Cat?” Edward asked.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Now hold your tongue until spoken to. Understood?”
Kitty lowered her head as she nodded.
Mel was wrong with her earlier assumption about them having ended up in suds.
They were in hell.
***
Alex read over the third list of names Edward handed him, all while trying to ignore his brother’s groans. “Can you at least pretend to show some interest in my endeavor?” he whispered without taking his stare off the paper.
“It will be for naught.”
“Regardless.” He turned to face Edward who was working hard at balancing his walking stick against the table. “These men have come here on good faith and I for one, do not care to just show them to the door without at least a thank you.”
“But we’ve been at this for two hours now and not one sot has been worthy of the job advertised. This new bunch is no different.” Edward glanced up at the surly looking crowd of men. “I take that back. This lot is the worst, yet. Especially the two scrawny pups hiding in the far corner.”
Alex didn’t bother directing his gaze to follow Eddie’s. He shifted his focus back to the list of names as he was more concerned with seeing if any belonged to informants he’d worked with in the past. They didn’t. “These men have given their time. And for that, I am grateful.”
“Then you are a dreamer, brother.” Edward pulled out a chair at the table and sat next to Alex. “You need to be a realist.”
“Noted.” Alex stretched his legs as he focused his stare on the rather sorry looking lot of men. “Gentlemen. I appreciate you answering my call. But I have only one position open and I must be diligent in filling it.”
A thunder of rumbles rippled through the room.
“But know this, even if you do not make the cut tonight, perhaps you will in the future.”
“We can live with that,” one of the quicker men said.
Alex thanked God at least this group had a man with a bit of sense in his head as the last two crowds were more of the rambunctious sort. And he did not need a third hour of settling down a bunch of angry cutthroats. “To join my team, one must know me well. Which is why the wager tonight does not concern cards or dice, but rather a single question.”
A second round of whispers echoed across the room.
“Name my one weakness,” Alex said.
“The Crown,” a man answered.
“Na. The prince’s weakness are his brothers,” another added to the list.
“Her Majesty,” a third man answered.
“His mistress,” a half-drunken sailor shouted.
A gasp echoed from the corner.
“Think you can do better Master Cat?” Edward asked.
Alex raised his hand to his brother. “Let the man speak.”
He eyed the young gentleman who’d offered the gasp. The beanpole of a pup stood with head down, his thin arms folded against his chest as if he were protecting his ribs with dear life.
The man slowly looked up.
A set of brilliant blue eyes stared back at Alex. A blue so brilliant, the hue nagged at his brain as they seemed awfully familiar to him.
Another man in the crowd chuckled. “This young’n ain’t even strong enough to lift a sword. He’s a stick.”
A round of hearty laughter burst from the men.
“I say the prince’s weakness is his horse,” a stout man blurted out.
Another stepped forward. “His money.”
“His title.”
“The palace.”
The shouts, along with a good dose of rising laughter, persisted.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Edward said. A hint of disgust edged his voice. He stood.
The room fell silent.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Alex said. “You may all leave now.”
He turned to Edward as the crowd shuffled into the hall, a trail of mumbled curses following them. “The job is yours.”
“Bloody hell it is,” the young man in the corner shouted.
“Watch your tongue,” Edward scolded.
The insulant pup sauntered right up to the table, no regard for the fact he was in a prince’s presence. “I’m your bloody weakness.” He removed his black top hat and then pulled at his coiled-up hair.
A cascade of long, blond tresses fell over his shoulders.
Kitty.
Alex bolted from his chair. “What the hell are you doing here? Have you no sense in that beautiful head of yours? This is The Wharf for God’s sake, the domain of pirates and the like. The men you just gathered with posed you a wide variety of dangers.”
“I disagree,” Kitty said, hands fisted. “The only danger I faced in this room tonight was the fact the man I love failed to recognize me.” She fumed.
Alex inched back a step. The table being between them meant nothing when faced with Kitty’s wrath. “I did not fail to recognize you.” He picked at the table’s carved trim.
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Then why did you hold back on the tongue lashing until now? Were you not feeling the same about me having come down here tonight two seconds ago, before I removed my hat?”
“I had my reasons. I did not care to embarrass you in front of your friend.”
“Then I guess you were going to lace into me in private. Perhaps tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Yes. That’s it. That’s what I had planned.”
Kitty shook her head. “You excel at many subjects, Your Royal Highness, but I’m afraid you don’t muster the grade when it comes to lying.”
Alex let out a deep breath. Of all the daft things to do, trying to worm his way out of a confrontation with Kitty was the dumbest.
“Well,” Edward declared, reaching for his walking stick. “I believe it is time I head home.”
He shot what he’d hoped was his staunchest glare of the night at his brother. “You’re abandoning me now when I need you the most?”
A nervous tick twitched at Edward’s jaw. “I’ve come to the conclusion, Alex, that this….” He fanned his hands out toward Kitty and her just as ridiculously dressed accomplice. “Is none of my business.”
“You are not going to walk out on me,” Alex protested. “I won’t let you get away with this.”
“I’m pulling rank as the more senior prince.” Edward donned his hat.
Kitty remained quiet, the anger in her eyes still brewing. Obviously, he was not going to get any help from her on the matter concerning his coward of a brother.
“Have no fear,” Princess Amelia said as she walked up to Edward and laced her arm through his. “I’ll see to it your brother pays his fair share for tonight by accompanying me safely home.”
Edward grunted. “I am not leaving here with a man dangling on my arm.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” Amelia said. “Nor do you have a choice with this.” She stepped back, released her arm for a split second, then smacked Edward square on the arse. “Behave and you might just make my team, Your Roya
l Highness.”
Edward’s mouth gaped.
Alex didn’t know whether to berate the woman for having insulted and touched his brother in so lewd a manner, or to laugh and let Edward get his comeuppance. He settled on the latter, minus the heckle.
“Good night, Kitty,” Amelia said, leading Eddie from the room.
Silence descended.
Now alone with Kitty, Alex reached for the chair behind him.
“Don’t even think to sit.”
“Damn it, Catherine. I had no idea you had it in your daft head to come down here. And….” He gestured his hand toward her. “You’re flat as a stick. How did you expect me to know it was you?”
“I see. So all I am to you is a pair of tits.”
His cheeks blazed hotter than Hell. “I did not say that. And if I was ever to refer to your…your…to a certain part of you, I would not use so crude a term.”
Kitty rested her now flexed hands on the table as she continued aiming her assaulting stare his way. She leaned forward.
The essence of fresh cut rose mixed with cedar permeated the narrowing space between them, forced him to lose all reason and take in a deep gulp of Kitty’s wickedly tempting scent. He filled his lungs.
“Men have no idea what a woman goes through.” Backing away, Kitty removed her coat and folded it over the back of the chair next to her.
“I really did have your best interest at heart, tonight,” Alex said, praying Kitty would ease up on him.
She didn’t.
Instead, she quickly went for her waistcoat, unbuttoning and sliding the green embroidered garment down her arms with ease. It fell to the floor with a slight swoosh.
“It was my hope tonight to assemble a team to….” His mind suddenly turned to mush. Not a single coherent thought was able to remain in his head.
With a single tug, Kitty pulled the hem of her shift out of her trousers and over her head.
Alex swallowed.
Kitty worked her deft fingers against a knotted strip of linen tied at her side.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Freeing myself from being a stick.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She glanced up at him. “Take me on as your assassin.”
“Absolutely not.”
Kitty undid the knot.
“This is not proper.”
“Nor was my brother’s slaughter.”
“You can’t do this.”
The first span of linen now hung undone from Kitty’s long, delicate fingers. “I paid no heed to the length of the fabric Mel used. For all I know there can be anywhere from one to ten swaths left. I’ll now unwrap the next span.”
Unable to pry his gaze off Kitty, Alex paid close attention to the suddenly changing tint of the linen binding his Catherine’s lovely breasts. The fabric was quickly becoming pinker with each move of her hands.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Enough.”
“Only if you take me with you.”
He let out a deep breath. “Fine. But only if you agree to me training you.”
“I can live with that.”
“I’m not kidding, Kitty. Being an assassin is not the same as gossiping or embroidering.”
“Is that all you think I do?”
Of course he didn’t. But it was imperative that Kitty understood the danger she was in. “I just need you to realize in my field, there are moments when one must act inappropriate. Shameful. Corse. Crude. Simply put…you will have to learn to act like a man. Can you handle that?”
“I absolutely can.”
He dropped his hand from Kitty’s wrist. “Capital. Then we begin tomorrow at midnight. I’ll send a carriage for you.”
“Where will we be going?”
“You’ll have to wait and see. Part of being an assassin is expecting the unexpected. Now get yourself dressed.”
Not trusting himself to keep thinking about how close he had nearly come to seeing Kitty’s bare breasts, Alex shifted his attention to the list of names Edward had earlier presented him. He plucked the sheet off the table just as a heap of wrinkled linen strips landed next to his pinky.
He didn’t dare look up. “I thought you were dressing yourself.”
“I have. But I see no reason to remain squished and uncomfortable on our ride home. The shift alone will suffice.”
Not for him it wouldn’t. The blasted garment was practically see-through.
Damn you, Kitty. The woman was driving him mad and he hadn’t even gotten out of the room with her yet. He didn’t even care to think how he’d react being alone in a dark carriage with a half-naked Catherine.
“If you expect me to be at my best, Your Royal Highness, we mustn’t dawdle. Sleep is imperative if I’m to act with a clear head tomorrow. Plus, I’ll need to make arrangements for my father’s care, figure a lie to tell Emerson so the man will not call out the troops once he discovers me gone from the house for a few days, and then there is the matter of me getting out of these ridiculous garments. And I crave a nice long bath tonight. So best we get going, sir.”
A flicker of hope filled his soul. “Assassins often go days without sleep or a bath when working on a mission.” Maybe that will change the little minx’s mind.
“Well then,” Kitty said. “If that is how an assassin lives, then so be it. I can easily wait here until tomorrow. I’ll have the hell’s manager send word to Emerson to take matters into his own hands for a day or two. And I certainly do not mind starting my training wearing nothing but a sheer shift and a pair of my deceased brother’s old trousers.”
The last thing he needed was to have the image of a dead Thomas invading his time spent with a near half-naked Kitty. He crinkled the sheet of names still gripped in his hand. “No. You’re right. Best we get you home.”
And far away from him for the next few hours. As he was going to need at least that much time to quell the ache in his now aroused cock.
Chapter Five
Weatherback’s
Comte’s Lane
City of Landon
So much for him hoping time away from Kitty would help tamp down his desire for her. Since he’d left the beguiling Catherine safe and sound inside the foyer of Mr. Culpepper’s townhouse last night, he did nothing but think of her. And not just in the normal way like recalling her intoxicating rose perfume or remembering her enchanting laugh or even dwelling on memories of Kitty’s brilliant blue gaze.
No.
He had to go beyond those sane thoughts and get caught up in focusing solely on that damn sheer shift of hers and the lovely assets said shift concealed. And to think, all he wanted out of last night was to find a man to fill the vacant spot on his covert operations team.
Dratted minx.
Kitty had no right coming down to Vulcan’s Forge and tossing his sanity thoroughly into the range of madness.
Thank goodness he had Weatherback’s. At least he’d get some respite here before having to return to Kitty, as the club hadn’t allowed a woman to set foot within its hallowed walls in precisely ninety-nine years. Not a single thing about Weatherback’s was feminine. From the remnants of cheroot that peeled from its plaster walls on rainy days, to the dark interior furnished with mahogany tables, chairs, and bookcases, to the wonderful whiffs of smooth whiskey that often flitted through the rooms as silver trays laden with the drink were served. This was indeed a male domain. In fact, in another twenty-four hours the prestigious establishment would hit the grand milestone of having survived a full century of without a single women crossing its threshold.
If there was one place where he could easily forget Kitty, it was here.
Alex lowered himself into the oversized chair and leaned back, his head cushioned against the supple red leather upholstery. A few moments of peace and quiet would do him good.
He closed his eyes as his shoulders slump, tension draining from his muscles.
Yes. This was definitely what he needed.
Stretching his legs, he crossed them at the ankles and concentrated on the blackness that filled his vision.
Alex’s thoughts drifted.
Stress fanned from his nerves as his arms and hands relaxed.
A steady rhythm overtook his breath.
This was the heaven he sought, the one moment of peace that would settle his thoughts for a few hours.
An obscene image poked his brain. Perhaps obscene was too tame a word considering the vision that was now stalking his mind was one of Catherine traipsing through a wooded forest, the neckline of her sheer gown sliding lower and lower with each step she took toward him.
Alex slid deeper into the chair.
A second image, this time portraying his Catherine with even less coverings than the first, slammed his head.
Goodnight, Kitty.
He definitely had the strength to ignore his sullied thoughts. After all, what did it say of him that all he could dwell on were thoughts of Catherine’s breasts? Breasts he hadn’t even yet fully seen.
He quieted his thoughts and started to drift off into the pleasantly Kitty-free state of sleep.
The image returned. It scratched at his brain like the sinful knock of a lover in a darkened hallway eager to invade his mistress’s bedroom.
Go. Away.
The scratch turned into a knock.
Persistent little bugger.
The scratch roared.
It grew into a full-blown pounding on the door of his most private thoughts, hammering his head with no evidence of ever caring to back down.
Images of Kitty unwinding a swath of linen from her chest, exposing her plump breasts for his taking, knocked him square off his arse.
He woke with a start as pain flared at his tailbone.
“Jesus, Alex,” Edward’s voice called from somewhere above him.
He flittered his eyelids open to find his brother looming over him, reaching for his arm.
“What the hell were you dreaming about that you managed to fall out of your chair?” Edward pulled him up.
“I…um….” He rubbed his temples as he planted his arse back into the leather cushion. Telling Eddie the truth would not suffice. “I don’t remember.” As if a lie was going to help him.