In the Assassin's Arms
Daggers of Desire, Volume 1
Katherine Hastings
Published by Flyte Publishing, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 by Katherine Hastings
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in an article or book review.
ISBN: 978-1-949913-03-3 (Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-949913-02-6 (ebook)
FIRST EDITION
Editing by Tami Stark
Proofreading by Vicki McGough
Published by Flyte Publishing
www.katherinehastings.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
DEDICATION
DAGGERS OF DESIRE SERIES
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DAGGERS OF DESIRE BOOK TWO
BENEATH THE ASSASSIN’S TOUCHDaggers of Desire: Book Two | Chapter One
THANK YOU FOR READING
DEDICATION
To my husband, my own personal romance novel hero. Writing romance is easy when all I have to do is look over and be filled with inspiration anytime it falters.
To my parents, for supporting me in all my crazy ideas and teaching me there’s nothing I can’t achieve if I give it my all.
To my sister, for being my biggest fan and cheerleader.
To my friends, for all your encouragement to pursue this crazy dream of mine to be a writer.
DAGGERS OF DESIRE SERIES
While each book is a standalone and can be enjoyed on its own, the series is best enjoyed in order so you can follow along with the characters and their adventures.
Book One: In the Assassin’s Arms
Book Two: Beneath the Assassin’s Touch
Book Three: By the Assassin’s Side
PROLOGUE
“JOHN WESLEY DOUGLAS, you come out this instant or I will tattle to Albert on you!” Charlotte Cornewalle’s tiny yet demanding voice cut through the hedges that formed a maze around the Douglas family’s expansive estate. “John Wesley!” she shouted again.
Charlotte stood on her tiptoes as she tried her hardest to peer over the hedges that were much taller than her diminutive height. She listened, trying to hear a sound that would give away John’s location. He was a master at hide-and-seek and she was forever trying to find him.
“I see you, John!” she bluffed as she listened once more, hoping her ruse had tricked him out of hiding. She heard nothing but the chirping of the birds, sunbathing in the warm July sun, and the breeze cutting through the rows of hedges.
“Fine! I give up, John!” Her wavy red hair got caught in her elbows as she stood in the maze, arms crossed, lips curled into a pout, waiting for John to reveal his location.
“You’re terrible at this game, Charlotte.” His voice startled her. She spun around to see the devilish grin at her expense that always seemed to grace the face of John Douglas.
“How? How did you do that, John?” She smacked him on the arm as he stood in front of her, the sound of his chuckles raising her annoyance level.
“A master hider never reveals his secrets, Charlotte. When are you going to learn that I am made of shadows, and when I want to disappear... poof, I’m gone? Like magic.” He winked at her as she giggled and tapped him on the shoulder once more.
“My turn, John! Catch me if you can!” she shouted and spun on her heel, racing through the hedges, her long red curls trailing behind her like a flowing cape.
Charlotte twisted through the maze, giggling at every turn. Several times, she could almost feel his fingertips on her shoulders, but she slipped away by just inches each time. He might be better at hiding than her, but she always won the games of tag. The two years and several inches he had on her didn’t give him an advantage.
“Catch me if you can!” she taunted again as she left the maze and headed up the manicured lawn toward the estate’s house. Masses of partygoers milled about on the expansive lawn, drinking and visiting. She ducked through the startled guests as she raced into the house, pushing open the door and nearly bowling over a young maid. She raced up the stairs, two at a time, until she found her way into the guest room she had been staying in all summer. This had been her home since her father had made friends with John’s father, Robert Douglas, just this past spring. The two men had been deep in late-night meetings every night since their arrival at his estate eight weeks ago. Charlotte and John had forged an uncommon connection, becoming thick as thieves. The two children ran amok on the sprawling property daily while their fathers took long walks and drank gin into the early morning hours.
With a puff, she slammed the door just as John bowled into it with a thud.
“Ow! Charlotte that hurt!” he yowled. “Open up! Let me in!”
Charlotte giggled as she pressed up against the barrier between them. “Only if you admit it,” she insisted.
“No.”
“Admit it, John,” she teased. She pressed her ear to the wood as she listened to John sigh the long-suffering exhalation of the defeated. A superior smiled tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Fine. You’re the fastest. I’m the slowest.”
Charlotte rolled with laughter as she cracked open the door. There stood John, his green eyes hidden beneath the unruly mop of brown hair, windblown into an awkward heap from their sprint to the house.
“Do you want to play hide and seek again, Charlotte?” he asked, pushing his way into her quarters.
“Why? So you can prove you’re a better hider than me?” she said, scowling.
“Maybe.” John smirked as he leaned up against the wall.
“Fine. But I’m hiding. And you have to count to one hundred,” she demanded, as she shook her finger in his face.
“Children!” The two rambunctious playmates jumped at the voice. Alfred, John’s tutor and caretaker, stood in the doorway with a look of disapproval on his face. “You nearly ran over a half dozen guests. How many times must I tell you that you must showcase yourselves in a better light when we have company? You’re not hooligans.”
The children stood wide-eyed, staring back at him, and his scowl softened into amusement. “If you are going to run around, at least do it away from the guests. Isn’t that what I’ve taught you, John?”
John smiled and nodded. “I’m sorry, Alfred. We’ll be on our best behavior from now on.”
“Now, go have fun, but don’t let me catch you running through the party again. I’ll be the one who gets scolded for not having better control of the two of you,” Alfred said with a wink and he turned and walked off down the corridor.
The children both sighed and then rolled their eyes as they watched him vanish.
“We are so lucky it was Alfred who caught us!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Anyone else would have paddled our behinds.”
“I’m so glad Father hired him to be my tutor. He is far more kindhearted than that old governess I used to have. She was mean,” he said, grimacing like he’d sucked down a lemon at the
memory. “If she had caught us running through a party, we’d be grounded for a week, right after finger-pointing and a severe upbraiding. Now, where were we? One... two... three...”
Charlotte squealed when she realized John had started counting already. She raced out of the room and down the long corridor, her heart hammering while she scoured her mind for where to hide. The Douglas family home was enormous, sitting on the hills just outside of the coastal town of Brighton, England. With over twenty bedrooms, there were plenty of nooks and crannies to serve as exceptional hiding places. She tried to choose a direction, but her mind kept going blank. She stopped mid-stride when she realized she had entered the east wing of the estate. Charlotte remembered her father had told her when they first arrived that children were never allowed in this wing. Her father’s face had twisted in sternness and he made her vow never to enter the area. While her father could be imposing to those around him, when he was with her, he turned into a soft teddy bear, kissing her head and telling her he loved her more times a day than she could count. He had played the role of both parents, since her mother had died shortly after her birth. He was firm, but fair. When he spoke to her with a stern look, Charlotte had learned to listen.
With her father’s words resounding in her head, she turned to run back. She heard footsteps coming down the corridor and panicked. Ducking into the nearest room, she pressed her back flush to the wall, hoping to avoid detection. The footsteps grew louder when they passed the door she had ducked behind. Holding her breath, she waited for them to disappear so she could creep out and flee the east wing. The slow, lumbering footsteps faded into the distance. Charlotte was about to give a sigh of relief when another pair of footsteps came up just behind the original ones. Unlike the first set, these moved with purpose, and at a hurried pace.
A moment later Charlotte heard a strange noise. She furrowed her brow as she listened, confused by the sounds coming from beyond the doorway. She heard scuffling, followed by a man’s muffled groan, and finally a thud. She still couldn’t comprehend what she had just heard but a snake of fear slithered up her spine. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the hurried footsteps raced past her door again, waiting a full minute in the darkness of the room before peering out into the hallway. When she saw the body of a man lying in a heap in a pool of blood, a horrified gasp escaped her throat.
She tried to stifle her scream as she bolted out of the room, away from the terrifying sight. As she fled down the hall, she heard the faint whisper of her name called out behind her. She slowed to a stop and peered over her shoulder. Her blue eyes welled with tears and she looked again, only this time to see her father lying in a bloody pool in the hallway, looking to her with pleading eyes.
“Charlotte...” he groaned, reaching out for her.
“Daddy!” she screamed, while tears poured down her fear-flushed cheeks. She raced to his side and fell to her knees beside him. “No, Daddy! No!” she cried. He reached up with a bloody hand and wiped a tear from her soft ivory skin. “Please, Daddy. Don’t die! Please, Daddy!” she cried, as she lay down on his chest, clutching him for dear life. “I’ll have nobody, Daddy. You can’t leave me! Please!” she begged, as the sobs washed over her body.
“It’s okay, my little angel. It’s okay. I’m going to go be with your mommy now. And you will be all right, my little dove. You will be all right. Just know that I love you with all my heart.” He forced the words out between pained and labored breaths. “Charlotte. You must listen to me. You must avenge me. It was...” He gasped for air. “Tell them it was...”
Charlotte looked up from her father’s chest and watched the life fade out of his vibrant blue eyes. “Daddy!” she screamed. Her voice cut through the charged atmosphere, echoing through every inch of the estate. She hadn’t even noticed the men shouting and running down the hall until they surrounded her. Strong arms lifted her as she clung to her father, desperately trying to hold on when someone pulled her away. Sobbing, she struggled to get out of the stranger’s arms. She peered over his shoulder as they carried her around the corner, and watched her father’s body disappear from sight. She then saw John, standing with Alfred’s protective arm around his shoulder, his tear-filled eyes staring back at her in disbelief.
CHAPTER ONE
“JOHN! JOHN, OVER HERE!” A booming voice cut through the non-stop chatter of the hundred or so guests at another of his family’s seemingly endless but lavish parties.
John looked around to see his father, Robert, waving at him with one hand, gin glass clutched in the other. John nodded across the room at him before excusing himself from the mindless conversation he had been caught up in for the past fifteen minutes with one of his father’s friends.
He meandered through the crowd, excusing himself to the ladies over and over as he tried to push himself past their large skirts. He swore every year the skirts grew and the women’s brains shrunk. He had tried over and over since his twentieth birthday seven years ago to find a suitable spouse, but all he’d ever found were pretty faces and the uncontrollable urge to run from each.
Somewhere, there has to be a woman of substance. In this sea of women, even here at this extravagant party, there just had to be one who could hold a conversation about something other than needlepoint or the newest fashion.
“There he is! John, my boy, I want you to meet Tobias Archer. We are having quite a discussion about King George. I would love to hear your views, son.”
John sighed as his father dragged him into yet another political discussion. It seemed that most days, it was all they did. Since he was a child, John could spout off every detail for every historical political problem there had ever been. Ever since King George had taken the throne three years earlier in 1714, men had chosen a side and utilized every platform available to wage a war of words. He could only tolerate so much arguing about whether the German king, who had barely set foot on English soil since his coronation, deserved the throne more than the fifty more legitimate heirs that had been passed up to put him there, before his brain protested against the tedium of it all.
“As much as I would love to father, I must excuse myself. I promised I would take Lady Mary out onto the dance floor for the next waltz,” he lied.
“Ah, yes, son. It’s about time you found a suitable wife and gave me a gaggle of grandsons to impose my unending knowledge upon.” His father laughed and lifted his glass into the air, clinking it upon Tobias’. John shook his head and chuckled, bowing to the men before turning to bump smack into his uncle, Thomas Douglas.
Slightly taller than his brother, Uncle Thomas loomed over John. Like Robert, Thomas cut an imposing figure, still in fine physical condition even though his hair had gone from a rich brown to speckled with grey. John had always been told he had inherited his father’s kind nature and superior mind but his uncle’s devilishly good looks. He had heard many stories of the long list of women Uncle Thomas was said to have seduced in his younger years.
“Run while you can, John,” Thomas whispered into his ear, and stood back with a wink.
“Uncle Thomas. So glad you could join us tonight,” John said. The two men shook hands and then leaned in for a brief hug. “I wouldn’t walk one step further if you want to avoid getting dragged into yet another one of Father’s never-ending political debates.”
Thomas laughed as he grasped him by the shoulder. “I know, I know... our talks can get tedious, but you must understand the importance of the royal family and what we can do to assist them. It is in your blood to care, John. Your father is only trying to prepare you for the day when you take his place.” His uncle’s face became stern.
John nodded, knowing all too well the importance his family held in politics and with the royal family... and the shadowy secrets he inherited along with his Douglas blood. Secrets that had been revealed to him on his eighteenth birthday. Secrets of the Order of Lions.
For five hundred years, his family had been the leaders of a secret order of political soldiers.
His father served as Grand Master of the faction, a title that would transfer to John upon the elder Douglas’ death. Their sole purpose in life was to defend the crown against any threats that came its way. John remembered with vivid clarity the day his father had handed him the small golden lion and told him of his fate and the importance it would have on the future of the royal family. It had been a lot to take in, but he felt proud to inherit such a tremendous responsibility. He took his oath to the Order and to the royal family seriously and intended to uphold it, even if it meant giving up his own life as the ultimate sacrifice. Tonight, though, he didn’t feel like thinking about the Order of Lions. He just wanted a drink and to try to find a woman to help him carry on the family name... and the next generation of Lions.
“Go on now, John. Enjoy the party. I will keep the old man busy,” Thomas said, winking again as he stepped forward. “Robert! How is my ever-so-old, older brother?”
“Old? I’m only two years older than you! And still better looking,” Robert shot back, knowing although a very handsome man in his youth, and even today, he didn’t hold a candle to his dashing younger brother.
John slipped away while the two brothers, best friends for forty-eight years, took playful jabs at one another. He grabbed a flute of champagne off a serving tray as he passed by, scanning the crowd for someone interesting to talk to and help pass the time until the party petered to an end. As his eyes searched for a familiar face, he found his gaze drawn to a woman standing behind one of his family’s ornately carved pillars. Her fiery red hair fell well past her shoulders in tantalizing, soft spirals. John stopped in his tracks as his eyes drank in this vision.
Her full lips had been painted a deep shade of red, even darker than the waves of hair falling down her back. Her ivory skin complimented the soft curves of her delicate face. His gaze slipped down past her mouth to her full bosom, the delectable mounds barely contained within the blue, jewel-covered gown that hugged her curvaceous figure. As John’s eyes worked their way back up her body they settled onto a pair of dazzling blue eyes... that were now looking back into his.
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