“Very well.” The man with the curly red mop shrugged and eased up the tension on his bow. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the tree. “Don’t mind me,” he said with his thick Irish accent.
“Sorry for the interruption.” The man in black grinned. “Now, where were we?”
“I was just about to cut you open.” John returned the smile while they continued circling.
“Ah, yes! That’s right,” he said with a chuckle. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried.” John lunged forward. His sword collided with metal, but it wasn’t the sword of the man in black. It was Charlie’s. She stepped forward into the space between them.
“Now, now, boys. No need to have a pissing match.”
“Charlie! It’s good to see you, girl!” The red-haired man hopped forward and grabbed her around the waist, spinning her in a large circle.
John scratched his head as he let his sword arm go limp.
“Connor! It’s so good to see you, old friend!” she said, hugging him back.
“We wondered where you were off to. Haven’t seen you in months.”
“I’ve been busy,” she said.
“Too busy to join me on my ship last month?” the man in black asked with an arched brow.
“Hello, Viktor.” She smiled, and turned to face him.
Viktor stepped forward, and with each step closer to her, John tightened his grip on his sword. Charlie stood still, her eyes following his as he landed in front of her. In one deft movement, Viktor had her tipped back in his arms, his lips covering hers as she struggled against him. John felt the growl catch in his throat as he prepared to lunge.
Charlie hopped upright and smacked Viktor on the shoulder. “Viktor. Behave.”
John saw the playfulness in her eyes and heaved a huge sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to kill yet another man today.
“’Tis hard to behave when you come around looking like that.” Viktor stood back and admired her. Charlie curtsied and gave him a twirl. Her red cloak offered a peek of the black leather beneath it as it flew up during her spin. The two burst into laughter and fell into a warm embrace.
“Good to see you, my girl.”
“You as well, Viktor.”
Their obvious affection hit John in the gut. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Who’s the clunch that looked ready to run me through for touching you?” Viktor turned to look at John.
“This is John.”
John noticed she’d stopped short of his last name or telling them he was a member of the Order.
“He’s with me.”
John raised his chin and puffed out his chest. With her.
“Aye. Then both of you join us inside. We just started the tea before we caught wind of this one creeping around outside.”
“I wasn’t—” John started to defend himself.
“It’s all right, John. Don’t let him get to you. Viktor?” she cooed, “I asked you nicely to behave.”
Viktor tossed his hands up in submission. He and Connor started toward the cabin.
“Come on, Charlie,” Connor said, waving her forward. “Tell us who you’ve been fighting and fu—” He stopped himself when obvious jealousy flashed in the depths of John’s eyes. “Just come tell us what you’ve been up to.”
Charlie smiled and gestured to John to follow her. He did so begrudgingly, as Viktor and Connor chattered away. He didn’t know these men, or trust them yet, but it was clear Charlie did. John looked over at Viktor as he strutted into the cabin. His arrogance set John’s nerves on fire, and he itched to take him down a notch or two. The ginger seemed harmless enough when he wasn’t pointing an arrow at him.
Connor poured two cups of tea and set them down in front of Charlie and John. The steam wafted up into John’s nose, jolting his senses. He hadn’t slept in days and could use the boost to get through this conversation.
“Boys, I need your help.” Charlie jumped right in.
“Anything, Charlie. Just name it.” Viktor replied. His affection for her, though playful, was visibly real.
“I have found the man who murdered my father.”
Both men fell silent and set down their cups, wide eyes staring at her, awaiting more information.
“He is the new Grand Master of the Order... or will be soon.”
“Bloody Order,” Connor snarled. “Gut them all!”
“I’m right behind you,” Viktor sneered.
“He’s also John’s uncle.”
John felt the air leave the room as the two men turned to him in unison. Their eyes burned with anger as they looked him up and down.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t end you now?” Viktor leaned forward on his elbows.
“Viktor, please,” she begged. He sat back and crossed his arms. “He also killed John’s father, and a good friend. John is on our side.”
Connor scoffed.
“Hear me out,” she went on. “John is a member of the Order. His father, Robert Douglas, was the Grand Master before he was murdered just last week. His father wanted to make a truce with the Liberta. He had attempted this seventeen years ago when he and my father were in talks about it. My father was killed before they could finish reaching an agreement. He wanted to change their ways, to stop blindly obeying the orders of the royals with no thought to the consequences or the impact of their rash actions. He intended to seek a truce again, a sort of understanding between our factions. He was murdered for his trouble, as was his second-in-command, Henry.”
“Is this true?” Connor scratched his pale, freckled cheek.
“It’s true,” John responded.
“His uncle framed John for the murders so he could elevate to Grand Master himself, and we have been on the run together. I need your help to bring him down. We must avenge my father... and John’s. Thomas Douglas must pay.”
John could feel the anger vibrating off her in waves. He was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.
Viktor glanced at Connor. A silent conversation took place as the two men stared at one another.
“The enemy of my enemy...” Viktor said, tipping his head to John. “You trust him, Charlie?”
John held his breath while he awaited that answer. Trust. That was something Charlie didn’t give to anyone.
She nodded. “Yes, I do. I trust him.” Her blue eyes locked with his. He sighed a relieved breath. She trusted him.
“That’s good enough for me,” Connor said, pounding the table with his meaty fist. The coffees all spilled as the table shook. “So how do we get this guy? What do you need from us?”
“I need more men. We need to slaughter them all.”
“Wait a minute, Charlie.” John said, leaning forward. “We need to prove my innocence. If we run in there now, we will just prove to everyone I defected to the Liberta and the slaughter of my uncle will only assure them I did the same to my father and Henry. We need to find proof.”
“Why the hell do we care about your reputation?” Viktor asked.
“Because if we prove my uncle is the murderer, I rise to Grand Master of the Order. If I am Grand Master of the Order, I can fulfill my father’s wishes and unite our two factions.”
Everyone sat in silence as they considered John’s words and their implications.
“We need not be enemies,” he continued. “We can learn to work together. For the greater good.”
Charlie smiled and nodded. “He’s right. We don’t need to keep killing each other. But we do need your help.”
Connor nodded. “You have my sword, Charlie.”
They turned to Viktor. His face stiffened in thought. After a moment, it softened as his white teeth flashed behind his smile. “You’ve already had my sword, Charlie. Several times,” he said, giving her a wink. John’s face pulsed with blood. His nostrils flared as he gritted his teeth. She shot him a look to calm down before shooting a stern one back to Viktor. “I’m just teasing, love. Of co
urse, you have my sword.”
“Good.”
“Well, what is the plan here, oh great Grand Master?” Viktor turned to John.
John took one more calming breath, trying to get the image of Charlie and Viktor out of his head.
“We go to my uncle’s estate. It should be mostly empty since he’s taken up residence in my father’s house. If there is proof, we will find it there.”
“We need a few more men. Viktor, can you gather a couple members of your crew?” Charlie asked.
“His crew?” John questioned.
“He’s a pirate. It’s his position in the Liberta,” Charlie answered matter-of-factly.
“A pirate.” John smiled, considering that news. “That explains a few things.”
“You mean like my impressive moves?”
John chuckled. “Yes.”
“I’ve got even more than that. Just ask Charlie.” He winked.
John jumped forward in his chair. Her hand caught him by the shirt and pushed him back down. Viktor burst into laughter.
“You’re wound too tight, boy! Relax a little!”
John growled and sat back in his chair.
“Connor, ride to London and let them know to ready the forces. Once we have proof, we will need bodies. A lot of them."
“Aye, Charlie. I’ll leave at once.”
Both men pushed up from the table and headed to the door. “We’ll be back in a few days. Heal up that arrow wound.” Viktor pointed to John’s chest. “We need you fit and ready.”
John nodded and watched them slip through the door. He looked over to Charlie. She sat back with a sigh and kicked her feet up on the table.
“Well, no turning back now,” she said.
John wanted revenge. There was no turning back. He was coming for his uncle.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHARLIE WATCHED THE determination in John’s eyes as he sat across from her at the table. The drive to avenge her father had pushed her for years. That same drive now pushed him, too.
“You should get some sleep, John. You need to rest.”
He nodded. “I suppose it’s been a few days since I slept.”
John stood up and stretched. Charlie looked at the rip in his shirt, stained with blood from his arrow wound.
“You should let me take a look at that,” she said, gesturing to his injury.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he answered, shrugging off her concern.
“John, you’ve got an untreated arrow wound and you were sitting with it exposed in a dank, dirty cell.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“John,” she cautioned.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Charlie tried not to stare but the sight of him illuminated in the warm morning light proved impossible to ignore. His muscles bulged beneath his skin. Chiseled lines marked every hour of training and practice that had carved him into a near ideal specimen. Only a few old scars marred the otherwise perfect physique.
“You just wanted to see me without my shirt on, didn’t you? The whole, ‘I want to treat your wound’ speech was just a ploy?” He had not been unaware of the effect he was having on her.
Clearing her throat, she looked away. “Don’t flatter yourself. If you’re going to fight at my side, I don’t need you dizzy with fever from an infection. Sit over there.” She gestured to the chair while trying to slow the breathing that had quickened from the sight of him.
“As you wish.” He strolled past her. She tried to act casual while she peered from her peripheral vison for another look at him before he sat down.
“Nurse, your patient is waiting,” he said with a smile.
She stood up, walked over to the bucket of water and pulled out the metal ladle, filling the pot with several scoops of water. She placed it on the spit over the fire and hunted around for a piece of rag. John’s eyes followed her everywhere she went.
“Let’s have a look,” Charlie said as she approached.
“My wound is up here,” John teased, following her gaze to his sculpted abs.
“I’m just looking for more wounds,” she lied.
“Likely story.”
“Do you want me to treat you or not?”
“Yes, go ahead. I’ll stop teasing you.”
“Good.” She leaned down and examined the wound closely. The jagged edges were red and weeping. “It looks infected.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said, looking down.
Charlie walked over to the fire and used the torn cloth to pull the pot from the flames. She set it on the table beside him and dipped the cloth into the hot water.
“This is going to hurt,” she warned, holding the steaming rag above him.
“Most of the worthwhile things in life sting a bit.”
“Then consider this very worthwhile.” She pressed the hot rag to his skin. He cringed and grimaced as the water seeped into the wound. “Are you all right?”
“Never been better,” he said through gritted teeth.
Charlie laughed and dipped the rag again. She squeezed the water and flushed the wound. John held his breath through the worst of it. After several rounds of washing, she examined the wound once more.
“I think that’s the best we can do for now.” She wiped the area surrounding his wound with the wet cloth. Her hand moved slowly across his chest, wiping away the dirt and exposing his smooth, tanned skin. She watched his chest expand as he breathed, his muscles flexing with each breath. Charlie glanced up to see his green eyes watching her, her own desire reflected back in them.
“Charlie...”
“Herbs. I need to get herbs for the wound,” she said and pulled away. “Get some rest and I’ll be back.”
She spun on her heel and rushed for the door, hearing him sigh as she slammed the door behind her.
Damn it, Charlie! She cursed herself as she stood on the front porch, leaning back against the cool, wooden door. Why can’t I let go?
She shook her head and headed into the woods in search of something to treat his infection. She needed to clear her mind. Her eyes scanned the forest floor, but her mind was somewhere else. It had already returned to the cabin to be with John. It was naked on the floor, writhing above him, screaming out his name while she felt the warm waves of release washing over her.
Charlie shook the thought from her head when she heard the buzzing of bees in a nearby tree.
“Honey,” she whispered to herself. It was an excellent treatment for wounds.
She followed the sound of the bees until she saw the hive dangling from the branch above her. Overflowing with honey, and with only the faint buzzing of a few bees, she knew it was already abandoned. The colony had likely taken their queen and moved to a new location to start a fresh hive, leaving only a few stragglers behind. Knowing she could handle a few bees without issue, she drew her sword and reached up with it, tapping the side of the hive until about a dozen bees clouded the air, their soft buzzing heightened now to a mad fury.
Pulling a dagger from each thigh, she twirled and sliced into the air. Energy radiated from her as she moved like a whirlwind stabbing the air, her daggers cutting through the bees one by one. They dropped to the ground, one after another. The deafening buzzing grew quieter and quieter until the sound of only one bee buzzed around her. Charlie reached up into the air and snatched it with her hand. She felt it prick her fingertip as she squeezed until the buzzing stopped.
“Ouch,” she said as she examined her finger, pinching the deeply embedded stinger. Charlie paid no mind to her throbbing wound, and reached up to the empty hive, slicing off a piece. After determining it had a sufficient amount of honey, she took it with her and headed back to the cabin. She felt better now after expending some of her pent-up tension.
Snoring assaulted her ears once she stepped inside. John lay sprawled across the small bed, his hand draped on the wood floor at an awkward angle. His fingertips brushed the pile of dirty clothe
s he had left crumpled near the bed. She could only imagine what he was, or wasn’t wearing, underneath those sheets. She glanced down at her own clothes and realized it had been a week since she had washed them, or herself for that matter.
Charlie gathered up his clothes and tiptoed out of the cabin with a simple cotton dress she had pulled from the clothing chest. She stripped off her cloak and clothing and slipped into the cool water in the creek that flowed behind the cabin. The dirt and sweat washed off her skin and the running water soothed her aching muscles. She finished washing herself and then took her time scrubbing each of their clothes before hanging them up to dry on the branches nearby.
She slipped the cotton dress over her damp body and scowled at the lack of coverage it gave her. It was cream in color and plain in design; far less elegant than the outfits she was accustomed to. She fastened the buttons up the front and struggled to secure the last one across her breasts. It was a bit too small in the bust, but it would have to suffice while her own clothing dried.
Gathering up the horses, she led them to the small pasture adjacent the house. She stripped off their tack and gave Duchess a good scratch. Satisfied that everything was taken care of, she headed back into the cabin. John was still snoring loudly. She smiled to herself, walked to the chair by the fire, sat down with the hive. She enjoyed the rhythmic sounds of his snoring. It was soothing, almost peaceful.
Charlie went to work removing the honey from the combs and straining it into the bowl beside her. She wanted to treat John right away, but he was sleeping so peacefully she didn’t dare wake him. Setting the honey by the fire to warm it up, she sat back in her chair. She hadn’t slept in days, either, and her eyelids felt heavy. Letting them close, she slipped off into the darkness.
“Good morning.”
Charlie opened her eyes to see John standing shirtless before her. Not a bad way to wake up, she thought to herself. “Good morning.”
“How long was I asleep?” he asked as he scratched his head and looked around.
“I’m not sure. How long was I?”
In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Page 12