A blush colored her cheeks, getting her to draw her hood forwards to cover her face more. “I would… unlock it for you. Of course, sir. It would be fairly easy to find your way… inside.” He had to have known the double meaning behind his words, it was the only reason her response would have gotten his dark eyes to twinkle like they did.
“Right, then it looks like we’ve a deal. You send me word when our noble king returns from his trip. I’ll be stayin’ here.” Then he simply stood up, gave her a wink, and walked off towards the entrance.
She had never once met a man quite like him. There was nobody she could remember in her life that had such an unearthly, rugged sort of charm. Xavier was positively awful… and she had loved it. That particular shade of green that his eyes were… she felt it would haunt her dreams with the daring twinkle they had.
“Well… he was positively awful, but what can one expect in a low den of debauchery such as this…” Jeffrey’s voice had her focusing on him once again, remembering that he was there.
“Positively,” her agreement was a murmur. He had been awful, but in the best way. She only wished she would see him again. “If that is all of our business here, I would like to go home now Jeffrey.”
He nodded and rose from his chair, waiting for her to stand as well as he spoke, “Now that I have secured our assassin, it is best we leave yes…”
Typical. It was just like a brother of Harold’s to take the credit for what she had done. There truly was more resemblance in their attitudes than she had first thought. “Undoubtedly,” she responded and made for the door. Though, the place didn’t unnerve her any longer. Honestly she would have found it interesting to stay. So many intriguing people came and went, she was sure that there were twelve different nationalities all in the one room. Shades of skin that ranged everywhere from dark to light and accents to accompany the interesting strange men.
Some of the girls there were gorgeous and exotic themselves, caramel skinned and amber eyed. She could see the appeal they had, the spell they cast over men.
Jeffrey had to drag her out of the door, but once he had the chill of rain against her face brought her to her senses. “Home, then, is it?” Her question was quiet.
“I cannot imagine any place else to go in rain such as this… we will have servants deliver the horses back to the stables.”
That was perhaps the best idea he’d had the whole day.
Chapter 4
Somehow, on her way back to her chambers, she’d gathered a handful of her servants that were fluttering around her, yapping about soaked clothes and how she would be ill if they didn’t draw her a bath soon. Honestly, a bath would be wonderful, she was so giddy from excitement it was hard to contain herself, hard to think straight and keep her composure. So, she let them fuss at her. She felt hands push her onwards, guiding her and stripping layers of sodden material from her body. Instead of fighting off the frigid dampness, she found herself stepping into hot water and sinking into the heat of it gratefully, every thought fleeing her mind.
Well, every thought except of course for those revolving around him.
She couldn’t help herself. The very fact that she knew next to nothing about him only added to his appeal. Her fingertips played against the curving edge of the tub distractedly as she thought over their clandestine meeting, looking at her fingers but not really seeing them. Her thoughts were a million miles away. Could he really do it? Could he free her? Just the thought that he could had her heartbeat shivering in her chest, her teeth catching at her lip and pinching until the slight pain of it interrupted the smile that was threatening to plaster itself to her features permanently.
He had been such a braggart. His self-confidence made her want to snort derisively, something that anyone would deem inappropriate for a lady of her standing. How foolish was it really, pinning all her hopes on yet another man? Weren’t they all simpletons? If she had learned anything over the course of her marriage, it was that. The problem was he hadn’t seemed simple, far from it. He’d seemed far too intelligent. As though he’d seen right through her guise before she’d even spoken a single word.
Her hand fell from the side of the tub, fingers plinking into the water as her palm tilted and slid into it silently and then she shifted, a sigh escaping her. Head tilting against the back of the tub, she stretched out a little to get a little more comfortable.
Xavier had given off the impression he knew a lot about women, what with the comment he’d surprised her with. Did he though, or would he be as inelegant in intercourse as her husband and Jeffrey had been? What would it take to find out the answer to such a forbidden question? Enticing Jeffrey had been so simple, the moment her mind had turned to attracting him it had happened. Would she catch the assassin’s eye so easily? Or would he be impervious to her charms? Was it even something she dared to attempt?
The risk was substantial.
Her fingertips brushed ever so lightly against her own skin, following the soft curve of her own side and traipsing against the crest of her hip bone. Would his touch be rough? Rougher than her own hands for certain. Her own fingers had never known true labor, but a man such as him would have had to work for a living. “Hmmn…” The murmur was soft, as aimless as her idle touches.
His eyes were what had caught her, though. She could recall the hue of them perfectly, the way his lashes shaded them and hid the green that they truly were. A finger slid along her thigh and her leg moved gently, bending and resting against the wall of the deep tub as her fingers wandered. What did he look like without his clothes on? She felt certain he possessed muscles that neither her husband nor his brother had. Was his hair the same ruddy color everywhere on his body? More importantly, if anything did happen between them would she find herself experiencing that same euphoric high she’d felt with Jeffrey? She’d only ever felt that kind of pleasure with her own touch, and even then not to that intensity. Like a fleeting shadow, a tantalizing bit of what pleasure could be. It had felt like an accident, like the both of them had been fumbling at each other and it had inadvertently felt good. Xavier spent time at that… place… though, with all those women. Surely he would have gathered a thing or two that would make it seem more purposeful.
She hadn’t even been able to see Jeffrey in the darkness, only feel him. But her thoughts didn’t run that way with the assassin, she didn’t want to have the darkness hide his face or his body from her.
She wanted to see his eyes.
She could only imagine the intensity of having him see her, watch her, notice her and admire her. Just with the way he’d looked at her while they’d been conversing, her husband had never looked at her like that. Had never truly acknowledged her in that profound of a way, that way that had made her insides clench from the moment she’d locked eyes with him.
Fingers dipping between her legs she drew them against herself softly, a breath falling light from her lips. It was easy to imagine that he would know what he was doing… that he would make her feel all of those pleasurable things she wanted to feel. She swore she could feel those rough hands in her hair, sifting through the silken strands of it. Her head turned just slightly, just to get that gentled tug to pull at her scalp from caught strands. The pleasurable tingles that answered the slight movement rained against her senses in a way that had her eyes closing. When she’d settled into the tub she thought she’d lifted all her hair free of it but as her head moved to rest against the back of the tub more she felt it catch again.
It had her head tilting so her chin lifted away from the water, back arching a little, and she swore the weight of it pulled at her head just like hands gathering it up. The feeling relaxed every muscle in her body, the stress of the day forgotten in the misplaced clarity of it. She couldn’t help the appreciative noise that escaped her lips, the sound of it wholly wistful.
“You highborn ladies with your soft hair, knew it’d be smooth even when it was all hidden under your hood.”
Her eyes flashed open, shock
visible in the startled crystalline blue of them. A scandalized gasp followed his statement, but she didn’t flinch up or cringe away from his touch. The shock had her spellbound, disbelief warring with logic. She couldn’t comprehend what she’d heard, what it even meant, it was so outside her expectation. Her usual reality.
“Shhhh, now don’t stop on account of me.”
Mortification caught at her cheeks, taking the slight paleness from her surprise and replacing it with the warm heat of a blush. It played over her skin as though the heat from the bathwater had enveloped her face all at once and was making it difficult to breathe. Outrage followed it, fear not even getting a chance to take hold in her thoughts as she reacted finally, breaking past her own confusion.
“How dare you?!” Her outburst was coupled with an attempt to sit up, not to get away from his touches per se, but to regain her dignity. To regain her control of the situation and turn so she could level a glare at him.
When her head moved forward she felt it, the quick tightening of her hair as it tangled up around his fingers. It wasn’t really apparent whether or not he’d fisted up a handful of it or he’d been holding it tightly the entire time, but it kept her right where she was. He was strong, even with such a simple grip she felt suddenly powerless. It was a feeling she’d never felt in this way before, it thrilled her as much as it terrified her.
He leaned in close even as her fingers reached for the sides of the tub, his grip dragging her head back a little before she felt his words tickle at her ear, “You’ve a little minx in you don’t you? I saw ‘er in your eyes there. Don’t you go drawin’ attention though… that’d put a chamber pot right there in your devious little plan.”
“Yours too I’d think… no job, no payment?”
“Oh, there are plenty of people out there whining about somebody or other needin’ to be dead fast. I don’t need all your gold… I just want it, lucky for you.”
“Why are you here?” It was finally sinking in that he was there and that the servants had all left and there was no one else in the room they were in. For once she had no idea what his motivation was, when every other man she’d ever met had been counted as predictable. It made her nervous…
“Had to prove myself to m’lady, didn’t I? You give off the impression you think everyone’s incapable of everything. Sound about right?”
She felt incredulous at hearing his response. Out of everything she’d expected to hear, that hadn’t been one of them. Her eyes widened up and her fingers curled a little against the sides of the tub as she mulled over his words. No man had ever proven himself to her, had even cared to attempt such a thing. Had even cared what she thought or admired or desired. How had he even known what she wanted, what she was thinking? She hadn’t said it aloud. She’d kept her opinions about his boisterous claims to herself mostly. Everyone else was oblivious to her snide remarks and sarcastic inflections, a bit of fake enthusiasm and innocence and they suspected nothing.
“Why?” The single word that escaped her held all manner of questioning in it.
“Why, what?” He responded, even as he loosened his hold in her hair and moved a little more into her view, tousled hair, dark eyes and all. “Why do you give off that impression, or why did I have to prove myself? One might be a bit more… offensive… to answer than the other.” A grin flashed across his face.
“Why do you care what I think?”
How it could possibly be offensive she didn’t know, couldn’t fathom. She was so flustered it was refreshing. She had absolutely no idea how to respond to him, couldn’t even think of what to say or how to act to give off the right impression and save face. She’d never felt so confused by a man in all her life.
“Can’t stand to have a pretty woman thinking I can’t do what I say, and there are many things I can do you wouldn’t believe. If I’m lucky I’ll have to prove some more of them?” There was that gleam in his eyes, the one that said he knew things that’d make her squirm.
God help her she wanted to know what they were, she wanted to encourage him, even if that wasn’t the wisest thing to do. He was dangerous, the fact that he was even there should have had her fainting in the bathwater like some delicate flower, or struggling to cover herself, but she wasn’t. She was conversing with him casually as though she was used to such random happenstances. Her cover was blown apart, he was seeing who she really was, and every response she’d given him had been genuine and fresh. She found herself turning more to stare at him and the invitation in her eyes was not fake. It was not employed to trick him, it was desperate, a wide eyed sort of potent need that she’d be distraught if he ignored.
It would upset her, the missed opportunity.
“You will kill him for me?”
It was a question, it was a statement, and it was a demand all at once. A fervent sort of imploring plea. She was putting her hope in him, believing in him, even not knowing him. She had intended to manipulate him so that he’d carry the deed out for her without even realizing how much it would mean to her. But now? Now she wanted him to know, she didn’t mind if her soul was bared and he saw her desire for what it was. Saw the ugly intensity of her hatred and how determined she was to escape her situation. The question could have been worded differently, as it was the ‘will’ in it held an unspoken question. It held a ‘can you’ that expressed her fear. Her doubt in his abilities, the strength of his motivation for even doing what he’d promised to do.
His eyes narrowed a little, though they met her stare evenly. Surprisingly so. He didn’t seem shocked at her question, that she was capable of wanting someone dead. “I’d be willing to bet you could do it perfectly well yourself… but I do plan on killin’ the poor bastard for you.”
It was what she’d wanted to hear, but not at the same time. It still didn’t answer the question of why. His belief that she could do it herself had her shaking her head, it was beyond her capability to do something so monstrous. She was so out of her league already. Every day further into this insane plot she was pushing past what she’d thought she couldn’t do.
“I cannot…”
It translated to ‘will not’ but the semantics didn’t really matter, because she needed him either way. Needed him to do what she couldn’t do, if she could have done it herself she would have. She knew that now, her conscious would have been fine with it. She felt no guilt, only fear of being caught.
“You could, if you put your mind to it. You went to the trouble of roping the poor man’s brother into your plot… I bet you could do it. Wouldn’t that be a sight? I find the idea of you wielding a deadly dagger ravishing.”
It would be ravishing, forbidden and ravishing. She could almost see it in her mind’s eye even if her thoughts fell apart before the act could be taken due to her inexperience in such matters. “I would make a mistake.”
“Why do you say that? You say so as if killin’ a man is a difficult task.” His eyebrows rose, “all you do is stick ‘em with the pointed end? Avoid stickin’ yourself. Other swords are better suited for that task.”
She had never stabbed anything but the food on her plate and it was readily apparent she didn’t really seem thrilled by that idea. Not that she couldn’t do it, just that it was such an inelegant and grotesque action to take when one usually wore dresses and was typically only concerned with proprietary status. “Such a chore, are you making excuses for why you do not want to do the job? This hardly builds confidence in you? If I wanted to stab my husband like some animal I wouldn’t have searched you out in the first place. Is that how you kill every one of your marks? In such a simpleminded manner? I thought you were intelligent enough to come up with something craftier, something requiring some skill? I do not merely want him dead, I want to be free.”
Her fingers clutched at the sides of the tub, “Free of this castle, free of my constraints as his wife, free of suspicion… not fettered by the inept bumbling of a simpleton?!” He was grinning at her… why was he grinning at her like that?
Her fingers trembled lightly, he was toying with her emotions and tangling her up with them. She didn’t know what to say, how to even out the turmoil she felt. “Boasts…” the whisper escaped her fervently, “All men do is boast… I’ll kill this this day, I’ll do this the other… I’m the best, no, the most skilled. All that ever comes out of a man’s mouth is boasting… and I have never been impressed. No, not by one… not a single one! I do not want to hear your promises, I want to see your actions. Spare your breath, your words enrage me. Doubtless you would say the same as all the rest… do you claim to be the most skilled? In bed? In fighting, in everything?”
Xavier’s lips pursed slightly as he seemed to seriously consider what she had said, “mathematics…” He said after a moment, “I’m fairly awful at mathematics, but then there’s really no use for them in my field. But I am the best I know at what I do, I killed the ones’at threatened my business. Could kill you too…” His hand disappeared from the side of the tub to retrieve his wicked sharp looking dagger, the metallic gleam of it dancing as it spun and somehow ended up biting into the curve of her throat just a little. “If I really wanted, caged birds are the easiest to kill, caged birds that don’t know how to use their claws are even easier. If all men do is boast, all women do is cower… even with all the power they wield.”
Even as her heart pounded, the wound on her throat stung slightly from the chill of the air that kissed against the dampness clinging to her still from the water. The solid feel of the knife at her throat something she’d never experienced in her entire life. Much like the tavern rising up in the midst of the storm with its scantily clad women and beckoning lights. It was just as foreign, and again she was out of her league. But she did not collapse at the threat, even if her mind was frozen, her emotions were not. She could not put on a polite face for him, could not employ trickery or flattery, nor did she want to.
Romance: The Campus Player: A College Romance Page 97