“What? I didn’t kill him. We just needed him, restrained, for a moment,” she said.
“Charlotte...” he started. She didn’t wait for him to finish. She was in his arms and covering him with kisses.
“I thought I’d lost you, John.” She pressed her head into his chest, smothering him with emotions that felt a lot like love.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. “You could never lose me, Charlotte. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Good,” she said; she leaned up and kissed him again.
The sounds of swords clanking and men shouting pulled both of them out of their embrace. “We need to stop them. They are killing each other,” John said, peering out the small window of the stairwell.
He turned back to see Uncle Thomas standing behind Charlotte, his knife readied to fall. John flung his dagger through the air. It cut through Charlotte’s hair just as she plunged her own dagger backward into his heart. The two blades connected with Thomas simultaneously. He stiffened for a moment as his eyes met John’s. With his last breath, he fell.
Charlie stood, unmoving, holding her bloody dagger in her hand. Her eyes fell to the body at her feet. “It’s over.” The words barely formed as she stared at the man she had been hunting for years.
He knew how she felt; the emotions swirling through her also coursed through him. The man responsible for his father’s death was gone. The fight was over. Relief and vindication washed over him in waves.
“It’s over, Charlotte. He’s dead. Our fathers have been avenged.”
“That they have.” She nodded, a satisfied smile crossing her lips. “I can’t believe it’s finally finished.”
“Your father would be very proud of you.”
“Thank you, John. Yours would be proud of you as well.”
A silent exchange passed between them; no other words were needed.
She looked down at her shoulder and picked up a chunk of severed red hair. “You cut my hair, John.”
“He was going to kill you, Charlie. I had to!”
“I had it handled. Obviously,” she gestured to the body at her feet. “You didn’t need to cut my hair!”
“No one will notice, Charlie. All that matters is that you’re safe and I killed him. This is finally over.”
“You killed him? No. It was my dagger that killed him,” she argued.
“It was mine.”
“John,” she kept on, “you can clearly see from the placement of the daggers that—”
He didn’t let her finish. He stepped across the room and bent her back in his arms. His lips pressed hard against hers as she softened beneath him.
He pulled back and smiled down at her. “We. We killed him. Together.”
Charlie smiled back at him. “Fine. We killed him.”
“See? Compromise. That’s the secret to a long, happy relationship.”
“John?” Her voice was soft, vulnerable.
“Yes?”
“I didn’t get a chance to say it back to you before.”
“Say what?”
“That I love you.”
John felt his heart swell as she stared up at him. Her eyes were filled with an innocence he hadn’t seen in them since the day he’d seen her carried away, wailing over the loss of her beloved father. “I love you, Charlotte Cornewalle. Now and always.”
He kissed her so hard her body melted back into his. He could barely bring himself to let her go, but he had to stop the fighting that waged on below. Somehow, a truce had to be forged between the Order and the Liberta. It was time.
“Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs and out the tower window. They leapt to the wall below and stood hand in hand over the men fighting below.
“Stop! Everyone, please stop!” The fighting continued as the masses of combative men ignored the couple standing on the wall. Desperate to stop them, he shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice booming over the sounds of swords colliding. “Thomas Douglas is dead!”
One by one the fighters stopped, and all eyes turned up toward him and Charlie. “Please, there is no need to kill one another. You have all been deceived. My uncle was the traitor, not me. My father was a great man. All of you who served under him knew of his loyalty and morality. He wanted to stop the treachery and deceit that has poisoned our Order. He wanted to make peace with the Liberta and change our ways. He was killed because of it. By my uncle, Thomas Douglas.”
The Order gasped and glanced at one another.
“You’re a traitor! You killed him!” a voice cut through the crowd.
“No. I would never betray him. That is what my uncle wanted you to believe so he could take my place as Grand Master. It was Thomas who killed Henry, my father, and Benjamin Cornewalle, all for money! He orchestrated all of this and framed me to take the fall. None of this was for the honor of the Order of Lions.”
John continued, his deep voice carrying across the courtyard. “The Order profits from the fighting. The more the Liberta wages war on the Crown, the more they pay us to protect them. My uncle knew this. Joining our factions and focusing our efforts on doing what is right means we lose the steady stream of income the crown pays us to cover up their indiscretions and do their bidding, whether it is right or wrong. Thomas’ lust for power and money couldn’t let that happen... and he killed his own brother to prevent it. If you want to pay tribute to my father, then lay down your swords and embrace the man fighting beside you. That is what he wanted. That is why he was killed. That is the legacy I want him to leave behind.”
The men below shuffled uncomfortably, looking to one another for direction.
“He tells the truth!” A voice rose above the hushed murmurs. John turned to see William Davenport, a respected member of the Order, step out from the crowd and onto the platform he nearly lost his life on. “I spoke to Robert at length about his desires to unite the factions. It was his dream to change our ways, to right the wrong path we’ve gone down.” He turned his attention to John. “I was with you the last day you saw your father and I heard his words, and I saw your loyalty to him. I have long suspected your Uncle’s aspirations aimed higher than they should, but I never imagined he would murder Henry and your father. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner, John. You have my full support to step into your rightful role as Grand Master.”
Reuben Brown stepped up beside him. “I didn’t agree with Robert’s ideals in uniting the factions before,” he said, looking out over the sea of men. “But I do now. Together, we are an unstoppable force, capable of great and powerful change in this country. Robert was right. I can see that now. I’m only sorry I didn’t see it before we lost him. You have my support as well, John, I’m sorry that we doubted you.”
John gave them a grateful nod that was returned by both. His attentions turned back to the men below. “It’s time for a new day. A day where we help the people of England and the Crown, but we do it because it’s the right thing to do. Not because it puts coin in our pockets. Are you with me? Will you join together and fight side by side for the good of all of England?”
Silence answered his last words, and John held his breath awaiting their judgement. Awaiting the future of the Lions, and the fate of his father’s legacy.
“Come on, men!” Viktor called out. “I’m not so bad! And I’ve got access to the best prostitutes in the world! Unite with us and I’m happy to share the wealth! What do you say? Friends?” He opened his arms and turned to the man beside him and a playful grin spread across his face.
The man from the Order beside him laughed and shrugged. “I like good prostitutes, but most importantly, I want to honor Robert Douglas. You have my sword.” He reached out his hand and shook Viktor’s.
“Well, bloody hell.” Connor walked up behind him rubbing a smear of blood from his face. “If Viktor can tolerate you arseholes I suppose I can do the same.” He slapped a bloodied hand on the back of the man from the Order beside him.
Charlie squeezed John’s hand as
they watched the men drop their swords one by one and embrace one another.
“It’s a new dawn, Charlie.”
“It certainly is.”
“I’m looking forward to remaking this world... together.”
“There is nowhere else I would rather be than by your side. I love you, John.”
“Not as much as I love you.” He leaned down and kissed her, sealing their vow until death parted them.
“No. I definitely love you the most.”
“Charlie...” He arched an eyebrow.
“Sorry. Compromise. You’re right. We love each other... equally,” she said, placing both hands on his jaw. He loved this woman so much it threatened to overflow.
“Now that is a compromise I can get behind.”
He dipped her backward and kissed her as they stood above the crowd of newfound allies. A new day was dawning, and they would face it... together.
Continue the Daggers of Desier adventure with Viktor’s story in Beneath the Assassin’s Touch! Click here to read!
DAGGERS OF DESIRE
BOOK TWO
Beneath the Assassin's Touch
Book 2: Daggers of Desire Series
Sometimes the safest place is in the arms of the most dangerous man.
When Viktor envisioned pulling the beautiful Baroness into his arms, he was thinking he wanted a quick roll in the hay... a one-night stand like he’d had with a lengthy list of ladies before her. Tossing her over his shoulder to escape her would-be assassins wasn’t what he had in mind, yet that’s exactly how she ended up in his arms the night they met. Now Viktor is stuck protecting the willful woman until they can solve the mystery of who would want her dead. He must use all his skills, as both pirate and assassin, to save her... and all his willpower to resist the growing feelings that threaten to pull him under.
Baroness Nora Aberdeen finds herself ripped from a life of luxury, dependent on the infuriating assassin to keep her alive. Unsure who to trust, she can’t deny the safety she feels when she’s by his side. Dragged through England to places she never imagined, Nora struggles to survive while also struggling to battle the feelings the roguish pirate awakens within her.
Pride and duty threaten to tear them apart as they fight their growing feelings while they fight for their lives.
Don’t want to miss it? Click here to read! Read on to sample the next adventure!
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BENEATH THE ASSASSIN’S TOUCH
Daggers of Desire: Book Two
Chapter One
THE SMELL OF STALE ale and unwashed men crinkled Viktor’s nose when he stepped through the doorway into the tavern. The door closed behind him, sealing in the sounds of the rowdy crowd laughing and arguing over their drinks. Curses punctuated almost every sentence; perhaps it would be considered offensive to some, but it made him feel right at home. His eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, his parched throat ready to be quenched with a mug of ale.
“Fancy a tug on your tallywags?” a voice asked as a hand slid across the front of his pants.
His eyes fell first to the pair of breasts threatening to pop out of a too-tight bodice, then moved up to the face perched above them. Not entirely unpleasant, but he had seen better.
“Not right now, love. Perhaps later.” He removed her hand from his pants and tipped his head, stepping toward the last open seat at the bar. Not usually one to turn down a tumble, tonight his thirst was for ale rather than women. Two days of riding had left his muscles burning and his libido depleted.
“Suit yourself,” she called after him, turning her attentions to the man who entered behind him.
He slid into the seat with a sigh. It felt good to sit down on something other than a horse. Leaning his elbows on the worn wooden surface, he lifted a hand for the barmaid.
“One ale.”
She cast an irritated look his way. “Hold your horses. I’ll get there when I get there.” Her attentions turned back to the man she was gossiping with at the end of the bar.
Viktor heaved a sigh. With a powerful thirst egging him on, he itched to launch himself over the bar and fill his own mug. “If you aren’t interested in these, I suppose I can go elsewhere?” He slipped the leather coin purse from his waist sash. The coins in the sizeable bag jingled when they dropped on the bar. The sound caused her head to snap around and her conversation to end. She looked first to the money and then back to him.
“One ale, you said?” Her voice sweetened and she reached for a mug.
“With the service here, let’s start with two.”
She ignored the insult and filled the second mug. She took her time hobbling over toward him, two full ales threatening to spill over the top with each ambling step. Viktor watched the ale grow closer, his mouth parting in anticipation when she set the mugs down in front of him. His hand clutched one handle before she had a chance to set it all the way down.
She stepped away, her eyes wide as she watched him tip back his head and let the cool liquid slide unchallenged down his throat. He slammed the mug down on the bar and blew out a breath ripe with ale and relief.
“Shite that was good.” He smiled and grabbed the next mug. “This one I’ll savor a bit more.”
He took a sip, the cold metal refreshing on his lips as he tasted the ale this time. “Good hops in this one.” He reached into his coin purse and tossed a few her way. “Keep the change.” She scooped them up without hesitation, nodding before she made her way back to her conversation at the end of the bar.
He took his time with this ale, relishing the way it quenched his throat and soothed his tongue. A pair of dark eyes two stools down became fixated on the pouch that sat open on the bar. Viktor kept a wary eye on the man while he slid the pouch from the bar and secured it back to the red sash around his waist. He had been in enough taverns to know the temptations a heavy purse could induce.
“Where are you coming from?” a soft voice asked from behind. He turned in his stool to see a lovely creature standing behind him. Her hand rested on her ample hip just below her narrow waist. Sultry eyes batted the promise of pleasure.
“From the sea,” he answered, looking her up and down, enjoying every inch of the view.
“And where are you going?” She twirled a brown curl between her fingers. With attentive eyes, he watched it fall between her bosoms.
“At this rate, to your bedroom, I suppose.” He took a sip of his ale. With this thirst quenched he could now turn his attentions to the other one.
A slow smile passed her lips. Her eyes fell to the pouch dangling beside his pistol. They moved then to the bulge in his pants. “Impressive.”
“The pouch or the pouch?” He matched her smirk and shifted to give her a better view.
“Both.” She bit down on her finger, pulling her lip as she let it slip out of her mouth.
Viktor felt himself stir as she batted her lashes again.
“Who’s up for Crown and Anchor?” A man’s voice called across the tavern and cut through the chatter. It turned Viktor’s head from his temptress. Good ale, a game of dice, and a roll with this lovely lass? His night was turning out better than imagined.
“Want to come blow on my dice?” Viktor waggled his brows.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to... blow on your dice.” Her eyes moved back to the front of his pants.
“All in good time, love.” Viktor stood and extended an arm. “Let’s have you blow on these dice and then you can blow on those.”
With a coy tip of her head, she slipped her arm inside his. He led her through the crowded tavern to the table where the Crown and Anchor mat tempted him to sit. A surge of excitement coursed through him at the prospect of wagering on his favorite game of chance.
“Minimum wager is one shilling,” the dealer said, lifting the dice from the table.
Viktor settled into his chair. He patted his lap, and the woman hopped onto it without hesitation. She slipped an arm around the back of his neck
and wiggled in tighter. “I’ll bet thirty shillings.”
The dealer’s overgrown grey eyebrows rose at the sum. He nodded and encouraged Viktor to place his bet.
“Put them down on crown is what I always say,” Viktor said with a smile. He stacked his shillings on the crown and sat back, his hand now resting in her lap. The dealer shook the dice and released them onto the table. They rolled to a stop, landing with a diamond and two spades face up.
“Damn,” Viktor whispered as the dealer swept his money away. The furrowed lines on his forehead softened and he smiled up at the woman. “I forgot to have you blow on them! That’s why I lost. Dealer, again.”
Viktor stacked another thirty shillings on the crown.
“The crown again?” she questioned.
“Down on crown... it never fails. Well, except last time. Now, go on. Blow on his dice.”
She wiggled forward in his lap, leaning to where the dealer held the dice cup in his hand. The dealer’s eyes fell to her bosom and he gulped as her breasts threatened to fall out. She blew into the cup and then settled back onto Viktor’s lap. The dealer cleared his throat and tossed the dice. A club, a heart, and an anchor appeared when they stopped.
“Shite,” Viktor spat. “You blew on the dice, right?”
“Of course I did.”
“Maybe I need to bet more. That’s what it is,” Viktor said with certainty. “Two pounds on the crown.” He pulled the pounds from his pouch and stacked them on the mat.
Concern stiffened the dealer’s lip. “Two pounds? Both on the crown? Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Viktor puffed his chest and lifted his chin. “Darling, give them a blow.”
She leaned down and blew on the dice again. With a shrug, the dealer flung the dice out on the table. Viktor watched them roll to a stop. A diamond, two hearts, and an anchor.
“Bloody hell. You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groaned. “You sure you blew on them? You didn’t miss?”
In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Page 17