Beneath The Assassin's Touch (Daggers 0f Desire Book 2) Page 2

  Two daggers flew past their heads, each hitting its mark between the attacker’s eyes. The men dropped to the ground in a heap at their feet. The tavern patrons sat in stunned silence, bodies littering the floor around them. Not even the tiniest noise sliced through the heavy air. But the smell... it permeated every crevice with death’s perfume.

  Viktor looked to the man below him and then over to John, a furrow in his brow as he eyed the scattered corpses. His brow softened, and his lips pulled into a smile when he realized who must have thrown the lethal daggers.

  “Charlie,” Viktor said, turning around to see her sitting on the bar sipping on a mug of ale.

  “Hello, Viktor,” Charlie said with a smile, brushing a stray tendril of her fiery red locks from her face. The movement looked deceptively feminine coming from the woman that just took out two opponents without ever leaving her perch.

  Viktor stepped over the bodies, and picked his way to the bar. Charlie sat perched on top, her black leather clad legs crossed, and her feet dangling as she tapped them together.

  “Damn! It’s good to see you, love!” Viktor pulled her off the bar and into his arms. Hers wrapped around him in response, a tight squeeze following that caused him to let out a happy sigh. “Of all the taverns in all the world and you walk into this one.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Viktor. It’s been months.”

  Viktor pulled back, but maintained his embrace. “You’re looking as good as ever, love. Better even, if that’s possible.” His eyes looked her up and down.

  “Viktor...,” John warned, stepping to Charlie’s side.

  Charlie didn’t flinch, but flashed him her signature smile. “You look good too, Viktor. Although, I’m having a hard time seeing you without your mustache. When did you shave it off?”

  Viktor rubbed his hand across the short, black stubble that shadowed his face. He was still getting used to the absence of the twisted mustache he had worn for years. “Aye, a few months ago. Lost a bet.” Viktor shrugged.

  “A bet? You bet your mustache?” Charlie chuckled.

  “Aye, love. I never lose bets, so I didn’t think it a risk. Alas, fate decided otherwise. What do you think? Should I grow it back?” Viktor turned up his chin, offering her a view from all sides.

  “No. I like this, Viktor. You look good. Really good.” Charlie reached out to touch it.

  “All right, that’s enough catch-up time,” John interrupted. “Viktor, you look good. Charlie looks amazing as always. And I do as well, of course.” A taunting eyebrow rose while he gestured to his unarguably handsome face. “Viktor, stop gambling, you’re terrible at it, and don’t grow back that horrible mustache. Are we good here?” He slung his arm over her shoulder.

  “Stop gambling?” Victor scoffed. “I’m no quitter, John. You should know me better than that.”

  “Still stubborn, I see.” John shook his head. “It seems things with all of us are good. I’d be better with an ale though. Barkeep?”

  The terrified woman scurried to fill two more mugs. She rushed them back over, spilling them as her hands shook.

  “So sorry about the mess. I hope this will help cover it.” Viktor tossed her a handful of coin and gave her a wink. “You’ve nothing to worry over about us. We’ll behave now, I promise.”

  She nodded her head, uncertainty heavy in her eyes.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Viktor?” John asked as the tavern patrons started speaking again, the deafening silence finally breaking.

  “I was actually traveling to help Connor out with a few things. I sailed in to Scarborough, and I’m heading to Oxford to meet him.” Viktor plucked a leftover wood shard from the dark hair resting on his shoulders.

  “Connor? How is he? Oh, I do miss him,” Charlie said, her voice taking on an unusual tone of warmth.

  “I haven’t seen him in months either. I’ve been sailing with my crew trying to rustle up some excitement. Things have been slower for us now that you two combined our assassin factions, and the Order is no longer my enemy. I’m a little bored to be honest.”

  John tipped his head. “Bored? We always have plenty of things that need tending, people that need protecting, and plots that need thwarting. In fact, we’re off on a mission now.”

  Viktor’s eyes lit up. “You are? What kind of mission?”

  Charlie leaned in. “Word on the street says there’s a bounty on the head of an attendee of Lord Rigley’s annual summer ball. We haven’t identified the mark, or who ordered the hit for that matter, but John and I intend to figure it out, and put a stop to it.”

  Viktor smiled and slammed his fist on the table. The sound startled the shaken patrons. “A mysterious plot, an assassination attempt, and a who-done-it? Count me in!”

  “You’re not tagging along, Viktor,” John contended. “Charlie and I have this well under control.”

  “Tagging along? John, I’d be a huge asset. Lord Rigley’s is in London on my way to Connor’s, so I’ll just pop in with you. We’ll foil the plot, then I’ll be on my way.”

  “John, I think we should let him come. We could use another set of eyes, and Viktor is as skilled an assassin as both of us.”

  Viktor scoffed. “Better,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Really, Viktor? If you think you can best me, then I invite you outside—”

  “Would you two knock it off before you start pissing on each other?” Charlie cut in. “Viktor is coming. We can use him, and he’s bored. Look at him for God’s sake... he’s practically shaking with excitement. Let’s give the man something productive to do.”

  John shook his head and finished with a nod. “All right, you can join us. Charlie’s right.”

  “Good man. You’ve learned not to argue with her already. ‘She’s right’ will be part of your daily vocabulary soon.”

  “Trust me, it already is.”

  The two men shot each other a look and a snicker. Charlie raised an eyebrow, and her blue eyes seared through both of them while she crossed her arms and arched a brow. “Well, now that we can agree on something, can we move forward?”

  “Of course, Charlie. We’re only teasing. I have great respect for your man, here.”

  “And I for you, Viktor,” John said, raising his mug in a toast. The two men clinked them together. “Except when you’re lying on your back practicing your damsel in distress routine.”

  Viktor couldn’t contain his laughter any longer. John soon joined in. “I missed you both. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “Good,” Charlie said. “Then I say we get the hell out of here. These poor people still look like they think we may go on a rampage at any moment.”

  Viktor looked around the tavern to the sets of terrified, wide eyes that remained fixed on them. “You’re probably right. Well, let’s get this little adventure underway, shall we?”

  John nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Viktor led the way out of the tavern and on to their next adventure.

  CHAPTER TWO

  VIKTOR STOOD ON THE outskirts of the ball, tugging at the buttons on his jacket. “This jacket is dreadfully tight. I don’t know how these fools wear these ridiculous outfits every day. I resemble a stuffed peacock.”

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “Don’t talk to me about tight until you’ve been laced in stays, and had your waist shrunk by multiple inches. I’ll take torture over living in outfits like this every day.”

  “Would you two quit complaining and keep watch?” John whispered. “At least we aren’t wearing periwigs.”

  “You grew up wearing these stupid clothes,” Viktor argued back. “This is natural for you. I’m sorely missing my leather cloak. It fits like a second skin. Have you felt it? Calfskin... like butter.”

  “It is a nice cloak, Viktor. Very supple,” Charlie agreed.

  “How do you know? When were you stroking his cloak, Charlie?” John asked, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

  “It’s not my cloak she�
�s been stroking.” Viktor winked.

  “Viktor!” Charlie elbowed him in the gut. “Would you cut it out? You’re unbelievable.”

  Viktor flashed a smile at John. “Your face is an unnatural shade of red. You should get that under control, or you’ll draw attention to yourself.”

  “I swear to God, Viktor,” John growled.

  “I think it’s best we split up,” Charlie interjected. “You two can’t be trusted together and we need to cover more ground. There must be three hundred people here and we don’t know our target’s identity. We each go our own way, keeping our eyes peeled for suspicious people, as well as one another. Just nod if you see something unusual, and we’ll all come together. Deal?”

  “Deal,” they said in unison.

  “Now stay out of trouble, don’t stand out, and go find the assassin.”

  “I’ll head upstairs.” Viktor moved away and followed the stairs winding up the side of the ballroom. The party sprawled over both floors of the expansive estate. A higher vantage point would give him a much better view of his surroundings. He plucked a glass of champagne from the server’s tray as she passed by.

  “A true lifesaver you are, love,” he said, tipping his head to her, his eyes pausing to examine her figure. Her cheeks flushed several shades of red before she lowered into a curtsey and hurried away.

  “Stay focused, Viktor,” he mumbled to himself, turning his attention to the dancing below. Gowns in every color imaginable spun around the floor. The music moved their feet but not their souls. Each calculated movement flowed into the next, with stiff bodies bending and spinning. The dignified dances didn’t even resemble the dancing he had come to know in his travels. Native islanders, like the ones on Nassau and Madagascar, moved with their whole being when they danced, wild and free, uninhibited by customs and judgment. Watching them move was beautiful, inspiring even.

  English society had a way of forcing the fun out of everything. Why anyone would choose this life was beyond him. Endless functions spent preening and puffing before your peers, constricted speech, and the clothes. The tight, uncomfortable clothes had to be the worst part. For the last few years Viktor spent less and less time on civilized shores and more time on his ship, exploring wonderful new lands, and meeting interesting new people. The pirate’s life was far more interesting to him than flouncing around these society parties.

  Champagne bubbles tickled his lip as he took a sip from his glass. His eyes wandered from the dance floor, and scoured the faces of the guests, searching for something that stood out. A hardened eye, a stance too stiff, something declaring nefarious intent. Again, his search fell short. Nothing rumbled inside his gut, indicating an assassin threatened to disrupt the dancing.

  His gaze wandered to where Charlie stood just below him. She caught his eye and shook her head, a sign that she’d come up empty as well. With any luck, John had found something. Viktor glanced around but his eyes froze, his search screeching to a halt. John hadn’t caught his eye, not even close. Viktor’s senses became far more pleasantly engaged.

  She stood below him, her delicate hand resting on the arm of a man who was twice her age and thrice her weight. Even beauty as radiant as hers couldn’t shine bright enough to cast him in an attractive light. If that was her father, her mother must possess spectacular genetics to override the terrible ones on the paternal side. She’d certainly inherited none of his unsightly qualities. No. Every feature, every subtle nuance of her figure screamed perfection.

  Her hand pushed a golden tendril from her face. Several of them cascaded from the elegant braids that coiled around her head. A soft, blue bow secured to a diamond headband perched on her head, the diamonds sparkling almost as much as her eyes. A blue gown, the same shade as her bow, hugged her impressive curves and opened to a skirt layered with lace and jewels. If a more magnificent creature existed, Viktor never had the pleasure of laying eyes on her.

  She stood on her tiptoes, a whisper passing to her father’s ear. A shudder snaked up Viktor’s spine as he imagined her breath whispering inappropriate things in his own ear. He could almost feel her soft, pink lips brushing against his skin. He took a long, hard gulp of his champagne and tried to expel the vision. But fantasies had minds of their own. Not only did the vision refuse to leave, it now had her lush figure splayed out naked in his bed.

  The crowd parted when she moved through the room. Women scowled with envy and men let their eyes linger a bit too long. She seemed unaware as she passed between them, moving up the stairs toward where Viktor stood. His hungry gaze followed her every move. Her perfume masked the smell of stale cigar as she walked by, it’s sweetness almost as intoxicating as the look in her eye when it met his. Her eyes sparkled a shade of blue so pure it rivaled his mistress, the sea. It was as if the sky on a perfect summer day had become trapped inside them; a warm blue, soft and inviting. She looked away long before he had his fill of them.

  She disappeared out the terrace door. Viktor’s feet moved after her before he granted them permission. An invisible electric connection crackled between them, pulling him forward through the door in a magnetic game of cat and mouse. The cool summer breeze hit his face when he stepped outside, refreshing him from the heat inside the party. Viktor inhaled the fresh air, the ghost of her perfume still lingered and urged him on. He turned the corner to find her standing at the edge of the balcony, her gaze fixated on the starry night sky.

  “It’s a beautiful night, is it not?” he asked, stepping up beside her. She jumped a little at the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She turned to meet him, her eyes examining him for several moments. “No need to apologize. I was just getting some fresh air.”

  Even her voice was perfection. A warm melody sewn with sweetness and finished with a sultry hue. After spending all his time with swearing sailors, hearing a voice as pure as hers was a welcome change.

  “As am I. It was getting quite stuffy in there.” He leaned on the rail beside her, moving just a little closer than what was deemed proper. Her eyes examined him again, a cautious gaze searching him for ill intent.

  “I’ve never seen you before,” she said.

  “I’m sure you’ve seen me around. We’ve just never been properly introduced,” he lied.

  “No. I would remember seeing you.”

  He couldn’t suppress his smile. “Are you implying that I have a memorable face? I hope it’s memorable in the most pleasant of ways?” He raised an eyebrow and her cheeks flushed in response, eyes darting to the stones beneath her feet. Her mouth opened but words escaped her.

  “I saw you down below with your father. You have a ‘memorable’ face as well.” Viktor stepped closer.

  “My father?” Her eyes snapped up. “My father isn’t here.”

  “Apologies. I assumed the large man you were with before was your father. Uncle?”

  Her jaw clenched. “Husband,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  Champagne threatened to come out his nose as he choked it down. “The big man? That is your husband?”

  “He is.” She lifted her impertinent chin and turned her nose toward the sky. “I am Baroness Nora Aberdeen. He is my husband, Baron Cuddy Aberdeen.”

  Viktor stared at her in stunned silence. This woman, this beauty, was married to that odious hulk of a man? He was not only the most unattractive man at this party, but the most unattractive man at most parties if he had to guess. He fought to close his jaw while he imagined how she survived beneath him at night.

  “Please forgive my shock and my mistake. It is just... hard to imagine a woman of your exquisite features didn’t have a more, appealing choice in husbands.” Laughter threatened to explode while he examined her again.

  “You speak too freely, sir,” she snapped. Her hand moved to cover the cleavage that continued to draw his eyes.

  “Please, accept my apologies. I am not often in the presence of one so beautiful. It has caused me to forget myself.”
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  “It would seem it has.” She scowled.

  “My name is Peter Miller. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Viktor slipped her gloved hand in his, folding himself into a bow. His lips touched the soft, satin material while his eyes worked their way back up to meet hers, stopping on the way to admire the lace that decorated her ample breasts.

  It didn’t go unnoticed. She yanked her hand from his and spun, showing him the back of the cream corset that held her delicate waist.

  “I have offended once more. Apologies. Again.”

  “Perhaps you should focus more on changing your behavior than perfecting your apologies, sir.” Her arms crossed, she took a tiny peek over her shoulder and found his eyes devouring the curves of her back. She huffed and moved several steps away.

  “You are probably correct, Baroness, however it is entirely difficult to teach an old dog new tricks. My devilish ways are construed from many years of bad decisions and great outcomes.”

  “I can assure you, there will be no great outcome here. I believe our evening has come to an end. I bid you goodnight.”

  “So soon? I was hoping that perhaps you would bid me good morning.”

  Her head whipped round, the whites of her eyes bright in the light of the full moon. Her mouth fell open, a gasp catching in her chest. Viktor’s eyes danced with delight at her reaction.

  “Well, I never!” Shock seethed behind her eyes.

  “Never say never... there’s a first time for everything, love. I can assure you that a night with me would give you something to fantasize about for a lifetime of nights stuck under him.”

  “I am a married woman!”

  “You wouldn’t be my first.” His cool smile revealed his white teeth.

  “I would never entertain such a disgusting idea! This conversation is through! I implore you to leave.” Her eyes narrowed, her finger pointed to the door he had arrived through.

  “Suit yourself, Baroness.” Still chuckling at her passionate outrage, Viktor bent into a bow. “If you change your mind, my offer will still stand. Trust me, you wouldn’t regret it.” He winked and backed away, just far enough to avoid a blow should she escalate any further. It wouldn’t be the first time for that either. His most satisfying conquests had come after just such an interaction. The reward of bedding a lady like this was well worth the risk of a palm print on his face.