In The Assassin's Arms (Daggers 0f Desire Book 1) Read online

“Are we going to stand here arguing or are we going to figure out who this man is that tried to kill you?”

  “I was just getting to that.”

  John watched her search the body, his heart still pounding from seeing her pinned with a knife to her throat. No one was going to hurt his Charlotte.

  “What were you doing, coming in here, John?” she asked, while she continued her search.

  “Me? In here?” He bided his time, waiting for the right moment.

  “Yes. You. In here.” She glanced up from the body and tipped her head.

  “I was just coming to check on you.”

  “Why?”

  “Well,” he said, searching for an excuse, lighting up when he thought of one. “I was coming to see if you were safe and my instincts, of course, were right. You were in distress.”

  “I was not. I had it under control.”

  “A Lion has instincts you could never understand. I sensed the danger and was compelled to react.” He crossed his arms and straightened, quite pleased with his story.

  “You got drunk and thought I would sleep with you, didn’t you?”

  John’s face fell. “Of course not. Your safety was all that mattered.”

  She shook her head and continued rummaging through the dead man’s clothing.

  “There’s a note,” she said, pulling a piece of paper from the pocket. She unfolded it and read the words, pausing to look up at John.

  “What does it say?” he asked.

  “Read it for yourself. Unless you’re too drunk?” she goaded.

  “Give it to me,” he said, and snatched it from her hand. “And I’m not drunk.”

  John froze as the Order of Lions’ seal was the first thing to catch his eye. It was his father’s seal. Why would his father send an assassin after Charlie? He knew John was hunting her. He read on, the words causing his hands to tremble:

  All members are ordered to locate and contain the traitor John Wesley Douglas and the red-haired female assassin he may be traveling with. Reward for their return, dead or alive.

  And there, at the bottom, was the crest with the lion stamped into the wax. This order to execute him had come from the head of the Order of Lions. His father.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHARLIE COULD SEE THE pain and confusion on John’s face as he traced the wax seal with his fingers. “Is that your father’s seal?”

  “Yes.” He looked instantly sober.

  “I understand why your father has a notice out for me, but why would he put one out on you? I thought you said he was a good man.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “He is a good man and he would never put a price on my head.”

  “Then why—”

  “I don’t know!” he shouted, cutting her off. “My father wouldn’t. Something is going on and I need to get to the bottom of it.”

  Charlie nodded, knowing better than to ask a drunk and irate man questions. “We’ll figure it out.” She reached up and touched his shoulder, a natural softness that startled her, causing her to pull her hand back abruptly. She wasn’t normally the comforting type.

  “We need to get out of here, Charlie. If there’s one, there’s bound to be more.”

  He was right. “He came in through there.” She pointed to the open window. “A creaking floorboard woke me up, but he had a jump on me within seconds.”

  “Let’s get the horses. We can ride into the woods and figure out a plan from there.”

  She nodded and followed John to the door, leaving the body lying in the growing pool of blood.

  “Just act natural,” he whispered over his shoulder as they made their way down the stairs into the tavern.

  The bartender looked over and tipped his head at John when he saw them cross the room.

  “We’re just going to check out the stables. She wants to see if it’s fit for me to sleep there before she makes a decision.”

  “Ah! Good luck!” The bartender laughed and waved them onward.

  “Nice one,” Charlie murmured.

  She followed him out to the stables where the two horses munched on hay in their stalls. It was near midnight and they had hopefully gotten enough rest.

  “Grab the tack,” John spoke softly.

  The smell of musty leather and damp straw led her to a small area in the back of the rickety barn. After a quick glance around the dusty room, Charlie found their tack heaped in the corner. She grabbed the two saddles, slid the bridles over her shoulder, and headed back to the stable area where Duke and Duchess danced nervously, tugging at the leads that John held tightly in his hand.

  John pulled his saddle from her arms and flung it over Duke’s back. Charlie dropped his bridle and quickly tacked up Duchess without a word. With tacked horses and a nod to one another they swung up in unison and galloped out of the barn into the heavy fog that hovered just above the damp ground.

  Charlie was grateful for the soggy conditions; the softness of the ground masked the thundering of the horses’ hooves as they fled through the town and into the woods just to the south. Her eyes darted around to the thick forest that enveloped them, searching for any sign of movement or malice. Only the blowing of leaves and the sharp hoots of an owl stirred on this dark night.

  “We need to take a break,” John panted in hushed tones as he pulled Duke to a stop. The big horse heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. They had been galloping far longer than either horse could sustain, even though both were well bred and designed for speed and stamina.

  Charlie pulled her mare up to a halt. “Duchess needs a break as well.”

  John searched the woods with his gaze, while his hand rested at the ready on the hilt of his sword. “I think we’re safe here.”

  “I agree,” she said, and she slid to the ground. “We should make camp and regroup. You rest, and I’ll keep watch. Let’s wait for dawn so we can get a better bearing on our situation.”

  “You rest, and I’ll keep watch.”

  “John, you haven’t slept, and you’re probably still drunk. I got a few hours of sleep before I was so rudely awakened. Sleep. You’ll need it. I’ll wake you if anything seems amiss.”

  She could see him start to argue, but with the tip of his head and a shrug, he stumbled over to the old oak tree and slid down against it. He crossed his arms and, in moments, the sound of light snoring reached her ears.

  With a chuckle, Charlie led Duchess over to Duke and grabbed his reins, walking them both in a large circle as they huffed for breath.

  “Let’s cool you down and then you can rest, too.” She kept the horses moving until their breathing returned to normal, then slung their reins over a nearby branch, leaving them enough slack to graze on the dewy grass below. That would have to suffice for their water until they could find some in the morning. Charlie could feel the sting of thirst in her own throat as well. Just a couple more hours until sunrise.

  A BRANCH SNAPPED. BOTH horses startled at the sound of it. Charlie leapt to her feet with dagger drawn before the sound had dissipated from the forest. A small doe jumped at the sight of her and bounded off, a noisy wake of broken branches following behind her. John scrambled to his feet, drew his sword and dashed to Charlie’s side.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” she said, while she slid her dagger back into the holster around her thigh. “Deer. You’re safe. I hope you slept well.”

  He softened and stretched, rubbing his hands through his tousled hair.

  “Good morning, Charlie. How long was I out?”

  “A few hours. Sun’s coming up. How’s the hangover, or are you still drunk?”

  “I wasn’t drunk!” He tossed his hands up in exasperation. He pushed her shoulder playfully, causing her to stumble back a few steps.

  She laughed and shoved him back. A familiar childish grin crossed his face and she felt a twinge of nostalgia; the boy she’d teased and wrestled with as a child stood right in front of her, now a grown man. Her best friend. Her first crush. Her John. All grown up. And excep
tionally handsome.

  “What?” He stopped jostling her and stared instead, a concerned look replacing the playful one he had just been wearing.

  Charlie fumbled, the realization that she had been daydreaming about him causing an unfamiliar heat across her cheeks. “Nothing. We should figure out where we’re heading.” She choked out the words.

  “Are you blushing?” His white teeth flashed in a taunting grin.

  “No.”

  “You’re blushing!”

  “I don’t blush,” she snapped.

  “Are you picturing me naked?”

  She couldn’t hide the shock from her face. “What? Why would I do that?” Her blush deepened, his haphazard words hitting way too close to home.

  “You’re blushing even more! You were picturing me naked! You are scandalous!” he teased.

  “John, I was not picturing you naked and I was not blushing.”

  He stifled a laugh. “Well, if that’s so, then can we also agree that last night I wasn’t drunk?” His eyebrow arched in a challenge.

  Her eyes narrowed and she sighed. “Fine. You weren’t drunk last night.”

  His grin grew larger, causing his dimples to deepen. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Well, now that we’ve settled that, we should probably settle how we will get ourselves out of this mess.”

  She nodded, while trying to will away the rose-colored hue she could feel pulsing across her features. She turned away and led him to the edge of the woods to the fallen log overlooking the meadow below, mumbling her relief when she felt the warmth leaving her cheeks. Charlie couldn’t remember a time when she had blushed. She had seduced many a man to obtain information or to further a mission. She’d played cards with pirates and could tell jokes so dirty that even the tavern-goers would scoff. Yet here she was flushing at the sight of him just like she had done when she’d met him all those years ago.

  “Did you say something?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she answered quickly. She sat down on the fallen log and gazed out to the field of wildflowers rolling out below them. The warm morning breeze carried the scents of the blooms straight up; you could almost smell the colors. Their perfume mingled with the strong, damp aromas of the thick forest behind them and created a most pleasant bouquet of fragrance.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” John began. “I have no explanation for last night.”

  “I do. Your father doesn’t want me to tell you he’s a murderer, so he’s sent his assassins to shut us both up.”

  “Charlie,” he murmured, “my father would never have me assassinated. Ever. He would sooner slit his own throat.”

  “Perhaps he’ll slit yours and then his own? Or stab you, like he did my father?”

  “Charlie,” he warned, voice low and deep.

  “Fine. If it’s not him, then who? Who would want us both dead and have access to your father’s stamp and seal?”

  John shook his head. “I honestly have no idea, Charlie. Really. I don’t. When I left to find you, everything seemed normal, aside from Henry’s murder. They supported my search for you, and I swore I would not return until you had been brought to justice. None of this makes sense.”

  The pain and confusion were apparent in every line of his face, and she realized she had been a little insensitive. “I’m sorry, John. We’ll figure this out. Together.” She reached out and touched his leg. He looked up at her, green eyes soft and pleading, looking for some kind of direction or answer. She didn’t have either of them.

  She snatched her hand back as quickly as she had put it there. This was the second time she had reached out to comfort him. Why this need to touch him? She crossed her arms tight to prevent her hands from wandering off again. “We need to find Walter Baker.”

  “What did you say?”

  She could tell by the way he’d straightened his posture, his eyebrows raising, that she’d piqued his interest. “Walter Baker. We need to find him. Do you know that name?”

  “Yes. He was my father’s butler for many years. How do you know that name?”

  “Do you remember how I told you that when my father died, I was sent off to live with some relatives?”

  “Yes. Your cousins, right?”

  “Right. I lived with them until I was eighteen. At that time, I joined the Liberta and inherited all of my father’s belongings. We were poor, so it wasn’t much. However, it turned out he had a small hunting cabin south of London. I visited it when I was twenty, mostly to prepare it for sale.”

  He nodded as he listened.

  “While I was cleaning it out, I found a lock-box hidden away beneath the floorboards. A little lock-picking magic and I discovered a bunch of letters inside. Many of them were in my father’s hand. To anyone but me, they would have looked like ordinary letters describing mundane things like gardening, news and anecdotes. However, when I was a small girl, my father taught me a secret writing code that he and I used to communicate. Just for fun. When I looked more closely at the letters, I found that they were written in the same code. There were hidden messages inside each one.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They were from your father’s butler, Walter Baker. It seems my father had long suspected your father was in the Order. He had finally found someone close enough who was willing to spill secrets... for a price.”

  John’s jaw tightened. His eyes hardened, and he nodded for her to continue.

  “In the letters, he confirmed information my father could have used to be certain of your father’s place in the Order. He had dates and places your father traveled, a log of visitors, and he even scribbled the Order’s emblem in one of the letters. I don’t think Walter knew your father’s true identity while he was writing.”

  “You mean while he was betraying my family.”

  “In the last letter, he wrote that he feared for his life. He begged my father to protect him.”

  “Walter Baker disappeared not a month before you and your father arrived. Someone from the Order must have discovered him and silenced his treacherous tongue for good,” he growled.

  “I thought so too, but a few months later, a few of my contacts found a man that someone recognized as Walter Baker. He was alive and well, living a very lavish lifestyle in Tunbridge Wells. He hosts parties and gambling for all the visitors to the spa waters.”

  John glared. “He won’t be alive and well if I see him again.”

  “That’s just it. I think we need to find him. Someone paid him off. Someone found out what he was doing but didn’t turn him in to your father. I bet that someone knows who killed my father, and maybe is behind this witch hunt.”

  He rose slowly, towering over her as she sat on the log. He seemed angry, with good reason. From what she could tell, he loved his father, and someone had betrayed him. If this John was anything like the boy she remembered, nothing was more sacred to him than loyalty.

  Turning to face her, he stretched out a hand. “Shall we?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Tunbridge Wells, of course. It’s only a half-day’s ride.”

  She smiled and reached out, placing her small hand in his. “We shall.”

  He pulled her to her feet with so much force she stumbled forward, and he caught her in his large arms against his chest.

  “Apologies! I forget my own strength at times.” He still held her fast against him.

  Charlie looked up. His lips were pulled into a crooked smile as he stared down at her, a softness in his eyes now replacing the glimmer of mischief that usually resided there. He swallowed, his eyes moving to her parted lips. She couldn’t help but let her gaze wander to his mouth, her body pressing just a bit tighter into his arms. A branch snapped behind them, and Charlie spun around, drawing her dagger in unison with him as he pulled out his sword. A fawn froze for a moment before leaping through the bushes and disappearing into the woods.

  “Bloody deer!” he laughed, returning his sword to it
s sheath.

  She took a breath and slipped her dagger away, as well. “We should go,” she said, clearing her throat.

  “Now? We could stay a bit longer if you like.” His eyes danced with mischief again. “Where were we... oh, yes. You were in my arms. I was about to—”

  “Now. We leave now.” Charlie spun on her heel and hurried to tack up Duchess. She cringed as she heard John’s laughter trailing behind her.

  “If you insist, Charlie. If you change your mind, just say the word.”

  “Never.” She threw her saddle onto the mare’s back without warning. Duchess pinned her ears in response.

  “I’m just saying that we had a moment.” He placed his saddle gently on Duke.

  “No, we did not,” she said, tightening the girth.

  “Are you sure? I think we did.”

  “In your dreams, John.” She couldn’t look him in the eye lest he see the lie in her words.

  “Oh, in my dreams we have a lot more than just a moment.”

  Charlie spun round to tongue-lash him properly, but no words came out. The laughter poured from his mouth. It caused another flush of heat to wash over her in a wave.

  “See! There! Blushing!” He smiled and pointed, puffing his chest up in triumph.

  Charlie glared and swung up on her mare, a quick kick sent her leaping out of the woods and cantering away across the field toward Tunbridge Wells.

  “I’m just teasing, Charlie!”

  She heard him call after her as Duke cantered to catch up. He may have been teasing, but he certainly wasn’t wrong. If it hadn’t been for that deer, she didn’t think she could have pulled away if he had kissed her. In fact, she knew she couldn’t have. Charlie groaned as she cantered on. Why is he having this effect on me?

  Relieved John had given up on teasing her, Charlie rode in companionable silence with him the rest of the way to Tunbridge Wells. She could have only deflected his banter for so long before slipping up and admitting that she had been ready to kiss him. In fact, it was all she could think about on the quiet ride across the countryside.

  Charlie groaned to herself, trying unsuccessfully to turn off the visions of him pinning her to a tree and ripping off her clothing. She didn’t have time for a schoolgirl crush and even if she did, he was her sworn enemy. It could never happen.