by Mike Smith
Alex just continued to lay there, stunned. It wasn’t until he felt a warm, soft and decidedly feminine body sprawled across him start to wiggle indignantly, that he risked opening one eye.
He came face-to-face with a pair of flashing eyes, belonging to his assailant. He was fascinated to observe that they seemed to have flecks of green and gold in them when she was angry. He wondered if he should mention it, but decided against it after noticing her outraged expression. “You need to stop wriggling,” he insisted.
“Don’t even think of moving,” Jessica warned, brandishing the pistol in her hand that was now stuck just underneath his chin. “I know how to use this,” she threatened.
“I can see that,” Alex replied resignedly. “But you really must stop wriggling, as I can assure you that my response to this is completely involuntary, I have absolutely no control over it, especially when you are rubbing against my groin, like a cat in heat.”
Jessica blushed a bright shade of fuchsia, when she finally understood his meaning; fortunately, she also stopped her squirming while perched atop of him, still hopelessly entangled in the sheet. “I’ll shoot you, if I feel any type of movement,” she promised him nastily. “Now raise your hands, keep them up where I can see them.”
“Well that will certainly put a dampener on my ardour,” Alex sighed out loud, but followed her instructions anyway. He felt like a complete fool, lying on his back on the floor, with her on top of him, her pistol still stuck in his gullet. “I need to have a serious word with your father as I cannot believe that he gave you a pistol to keep under your pillow!”
“It belonged to my brother and he taught me how to use it.”
“Then I need to have a long chat with him, no wonder you don’t have any suitors climbing the trellises outside your window. You probably shot the first few and word got around thereafter.”
“My brother is dead, he died when I was still young,” Jessica corrected him sadly.
Alex stared at her in surprise, having no brothers or sisters of his own he could not imagine ever losing one, but he was sure that it must have been devastating. “I’m sorry,” he said, gently lowering his hands until they rested on top of the sheet. He could feel the warmth from her back emanating through the thin layer. While he felt her briefly tense, he was relieved that she didn’t shoot him, as that would have completely ruined the moment. After a brief hesitation he started to run his hands along her back, from her neck and shoulders all the way down to her waist, then back up again, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
“What? What are you doing?” she stuttered.
“My hands, they were getting cramped. I’m just trying to restore the circulation in them,” Alex lied earnestly, continuing to stroke her through the sheet, resting his head back on the floor, before he really did get a cramp in his neck. He felt what suspiciously seemed like her head resting on his chest, but he didn’t want to lift his head to confirm it and ruin the ambiance.
“So what are we going to do now?” she asked softly.
“I’m in no rush, I don’t have any other sleeping beauties to go kissing awake tonight, if that’s what you mean.” He heard what suspiciously sounded like a giggle coming from the region of his chest, but decided to just lie back and enjoy the moment. It seemed strange lying there, staring up at the ceiling, with the moonlight seeping into the room. It felt like the two of them were alone, in their own perfect dream world. His earlier opinion of the night had been spot on. It was the perfect night for a secret rendezvous between two lovers. Now if only…
“We can’t stay like this all night; somebody might find us. Think of my reputation. I’m meant to be getting married in a few months.”
“Your reputation? Married?” Alex replied, astonished. “Think of my head. I’m sure that your father would be happy to separate it from my body if he was to find me here, with you, in this compromising position. Anyway, if you keep quiet nobody will hear us.”
Even before he had finished speaking the words, he definitely knew that this had been the wrong thing to say. He quickly lifted his head up, to stare once again into her beautiful eyes, but this time they were unfocused. Alex swore that he could bore into them and observe her thought process. Suddenly he realised he could identify the exact moment that she reached the same conclusion.
“Jessica. No,” he whispered, urgently.
“I’m sure that it is all just a misunderstanding. I’ll talk to my father and explain, he doesn’t need to know everything.” She emphasised the word, frowning. “I promise you that he won’t harm you. I’ll even deal with my fiancé, although we have only met once and I hear that he has a dreadful temper, I’m sure that once I explain to Lord Stanton—”
“Stanton?” Alex interrupted, astounded. “Your betrothed is High-Lord Stanton?” His thoughts were in a whirl, as he mentally flicked through everything that he read from the briefing notes, but no, there had been no mention of any sort of relationship, personal or otherwise with Stanton.
If he had known, he would never have gone anywhere near her.
Not that he had anything to fear from the man anyway. High-Lord Stanton had been dead for a number of years now, but as for his son who had inherited the title—Alex shivered, but not from the cold. He had much to fear from the son and, knowing him, death would be the least of his worries.
“Jessica. No,” he repeated, but this time feeling the first hint of panic well up from inside him. If Stanton found him, but it was already too late. He could hear her take a deep breath and the way her diaphragm expanded, feel the rush of air into her lungs. Any minute now the air would reverse direction, she would expel it and, as it rushed over her vocal cords, she would call out. He had to stop her. There was no other choice. Nothing else mattered. So he took the only option left open to him.
Lifting his hands until he had a firm grip on both sides of her head, he let his eyes drift closed and, with a sudden jerk of his hands, crushed her lips against his. His mouth fully covering hers, with his lips forming a tight seal, the shout was drowned out as she exhaled into his mouth.
He kissed her.
Tentatively at first, almost afraid she’d disappear in his arms, but this wasn’t enough. Passion swirled to life within him and he pulled her closer, revelling in the soft press of her body against his. She was the perfect size for him, small in that way that made a man want to slay dragons. She felt like a woman, warm and lush in all the right places. His hand ached to close around her waist, to run his hands all along her perfect curves. But even he would not be so bold, not with a stranger, in her own home.
Still, he was not ready to let her go. Her smell reminded him of his own cherished home, of soft rain and sun-kissed meadows. Jessica felt like the best kind of heaven. He wanted to wrap himself around her, to breathe in her scent and stay there for all of his days. He hadn’t had a drop to drink in hours, but he was intoxicated now, bubbling with a lightness he’d never thought to feel again.
It was madness. It had to be.
She was too startled to protest, then too overcome with surprise to break away. Breaking the contact, she gasped, any coherent thought regarding crying out quickly forgotten.
He wrestled to catch her mouth once again with his and imagined his arms locked around her as he rolled them onto her bed. With a slow slide against her bottom lip and a languid brush with the tip of his tongue, he could see moonlit nights spent outdoors with her under a blanket of stars. He delved deeply as though he was dying of thirst and had thoughts that he shouldn’t have had. She in his life, a shining light, banishing all those dark places in his soul, being able to wake up with her every day, with a brood of kids running into their bedroom every morning. Laughter and happiness echoing throughout his empty home.
Not wanting to ever let her go, he pulled her closer in his arms, rolling them over and pushed her back to the floor. One arm slid around her waist, while his other hand gripped behind her neck, to firmly hold her in place while he devoured her mou
th.
The most bizarre dilemma of his life took place, as she tried to squirm away in an effort to voice her objections, while he trumped them all with his patient, sensual kissing. He stole her breath, melted her urgency and she fell into a pattern with him that felt like dancing. He guessed that they had developed an understanding as no other explanation existed for the perfect harmony, the blissful lazy-jubilant exchange, that made him feel as though they were long time lovers.
She shook her head, her eyes wide with caution. “I can’t be seen like this,” she whispered frantically.
He let her go, not because she’d asked him to, but because he thought if he didn’t he might never be able to relinquish his hold from her.
After releasing her from his arms, her body trembling in surrender, panting most unladylike for breath, he pulled back and pleaded. “Please. Just give me a chance to explain. I didn’t come here to harm you, quite the opposite, as I need to warn you.”
“I can’t breathe,” she complained, interrupting him.
Alex blinked, breaking his train of thought. “The kiss?”
“No,” she interjected again. “I mean I can’t breathe, what with you lying on me and this damn sheet.”
Laughing, Alex rolled off her and onto his own two feet, offered her his hand, like a gentleman, helping her to stand.
“Help me out of this, can you?” she indicated the white sheet that she was still tightly bound with.
“I thought that you would never ask,” he smirked, taking a step closer. “Although it does make me wonder if you are wearing anything underneath.”
“That's for me to know and you to find out,” she replied with a cheeky smile, taking a step forward of her own, although hers could only best be described as a hesitant shuffle, until the two of them were almost touching. Her hands, the only part of her not tightly knotted, coming to rest on his chest. “Then we can discuss your very improper—”
For the second time that night, she halted mid-sentence. A look of surprise and shock on her face, but this time it wasn’t wrapped up in fear, but pain. She fell forward into his arms, his hands immediately encircling her waist to catch her. Shocked at her sudden behaviour, horrified when one of his hands came back smeared in blood. Meanwhile a red spot started to form on the pristine white sheet, at chest height, the red dot rapidly growing larger, and larger.
Alex looked up from the pained expression on her face, behind her, towards the darkened corner of her room. While still dark and the moonlight casting more shadows than illumination, he could clearly spot the outline of a man, pistol still raised, pointing directly at them.
Time seemed to slow down, to stop, the scene seared into his consciousness, as if it had been etched with diamond. He took in everything. The outline of the man, the uniform of one of High-Lord Hadley’s guards, eyes glittering like broken shards of ice. The pistol was a black metallic object firmly held in his hands, the barrel unnaturally elongated by the bulbous silencer attached to the front of it. As their eyes met across the length of the room, a smirk tugged at the other man’s lips, as he once again raised the pistol, his finger tightening on the trigger.
The frozen scene shattered into a million pieces of glass and Alex heard a roaring in his ears, something expanding in the pit of his stomach, spreading throughout his body, like an angry dragon unfurling from a long forgotten slumber. For the longest time Alex had thought that all of his emotions, his feelings, had been consumed in the darkness of that six-by-eight cell that they had left him to rot in, but he had been mistaken.
A fury like he had rarely known took hold of him and the next thing that he knew the assassin was falling to his knees, his pistol long discarded, forgotten by his feet. His hands went to his neck, or what was left of it, after the blast of energy speared him from across the room, slashing across his throat, ripping it open.
Alex blinked, observing the scene and the fusion pistol now in his hand. Unsure if it was the weapon that had killed the man or simply the intensity of his own rage. Shouts of alarm and lights started to shine throughout the residence, alerting him to the fact that the altercation had not gone by unnoticed. Still, all that was forgotten by a whimper of pain from Jessica, still cradled in his arms.
He turned his attention back to her, noticing that her face had already turned a deathly shade of white and, without realising, he was supporting her full weight. Were it not for him, she would have long since crumpled to the floor. Quickly returning the pistol to his side, now with two hands free he scooped her up into his arms and, with a few long strides, they were once again at the foot of her bed. He gently lowered her back down onto it, in the same place where he had first come to observe her.
He did not need to take a second look at the wound to know that it was fatal, the round obviously designed to fragment on impact. It had torn a massive entry wound in her back and little remained of her chest, but a ragged, torn, wound. Without knowing it, she had unconsciously saved his life, but at the cost of her own.
He tore his gaze away from her own, looking up towards the entrance to the bedroom. He could hear the sound of heavy footsteps, boots, many of them and fast approaching. He had to leave, immediately.
“Please, don’t leave me,” the pitifully weak voice rooted him to the spot, almost as if reading his mind. “I don’t want to die alone.”
His horrified gaze was drawn back to her equally terrified one. Alex opened his mouth to reassure her that help was on its way and that she would be perfectly fine. The words died in his throat. She wouldn’t be fine and they both knew it. He could not lie to her and tell her otherwise. Therefore, ignoring the rapidly approaching danger, he simply nodded, falling to his knees, so he could be closer to her. Their faces were inches apart, hers resting on the bed, but still her eyes stared into his, wide, unblinking.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the despair easily recognisable in his voice. “I never meant for any harm to come to you.”
“Why? Why did you come?” she asked with difficulty, her eyes searching his, as if they could find the answer to the question by themselves.
“Because I wanted to see you in person, to touch you. To reassure myself that you were real,” he trailed off, not knowing how to put into words a thousand different thoughts and feelings that he felt.
But some of those must have been visible in his eyes, as she coughed, whispering, “Couldn’t you have just made an appointment?”
“I think your diary was full,” Alex joked, but it fell flat.
“Who are you?” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed for the last time.
Alex blinked. Who was he? He seemed to have spent his entire life asking himself that question, but none of the answers seemed to fit. In all honesty he didn’t know. So he answered with the only truthful reply that he could. “Alex. My name is Alex.”
“Thank you for the kiss. Alex,” she whispered with her dying breath and was then still.
Alex could only stare, uncomprehendingly, at her eyes that gazed back at him vacant and empty. Never again would they sparkle with delight, her eyelashes fluttering closed in ecstasy the way they had when he had first kissed her. Reaching out for the last time, he delicately touched her lips with his finger, still swollen from their earlier kisses. “I won’t forget you. I’ll remember you every day, for as long as I live. That way you’ll live on, through me,” he promised her. However, heavy footsteps behind him made him swing round, while quickly rising to his feet, and looked into the astonished twin pair of eyes belonging to two soldiers who stared back at him.
It only took them both a moment to recover from the shock, taking in the damning scene with a swift glance. Lady Jessica, dead, lying in a pool of her own blood. Another guard, slumped on the floor, similarly dead. With this armed stranger, blood on his hands, cloaked in black standing over both their bodies. As one they scrambled for the pistols at their side, bringing them both to aim on the assassin standing a few feet in front of them.
“This isn’t
my doing,” Alex explained swiftly, raising both of his hands above his head, when faced by the business end of two deadly looking pistols. “I can explain,” he started, taking a step towards the pair. However, after taking in the scene with a swift glance, the two men had already reached their own conclusions. It was the step forward that was Alex’s final mistake, as both men instinctively pulled the triggers.
The echo of the combined gunshots was deafening in the enclosed room, not that Alex cared, as the first round took him in the shoulder, spinning him around, a burning pain spreading from his shoulder, silencing any other words that he might have spoken. At least the impact of the first saved his life, for it caused the second, aimed at his head, to miss.
He stumbled backwards a couple of steps, instinctively reaching for his own pistol, but faltered. Did he really want any more deaths on his conscience tonight? Wasn’t one already enough? The momentary hesitation was enough to prove fatal, as the two guards didn’t waver, instead simply taking aim once again, both firing for a second time.
This time neither failed to miss, the almost simultaneous impacts catapulting him backwards, knocking him through the open balcony doors and over the balustrade. For the second time that night he found himself falling, falling, but this time with nothing to break his fall.
A scream was torn from his lips, as once again the darkness reached out to take hold of him, but this time, never to let go.
Chapter One