Regency Rogues Omnibus (93 page)

“Get ready,” Joelle advised.

Saxon tensed. Joelle held her breath as she watched the Germans lumber closer. At first they spent time darting glances around, but as they drew closer they stopped doing that and straightened up seeming to feel more secure upon seeing the lone woman.

“Now!” Joelle exclaimed tightly. The shot, sounding so close even though she was prepared for it, made Joelle flinch while fighting the urge to cover her ears. With the vibrations of the booming sound, both Baco and Cernno halted abruptly. It was as if they were suspended, trying to decide if they really had heard a shot. Then the second shot went off and Joelle saw one of them, she could not tell which, jerk his gaze toward Orelan. Only Orelan was gone.

By now, she and Wyndham were blended back into the Prince’s party, which likely was in a bit of an uproar.

“Come on,” Saxon urged, tossing both discharged rifles out onto the common-grounds in plain sight.

It had been determined that the only place that the Germans could run for hiding was in this direction, which ran through one stand of trees, then out onto the common-ground, then onto the next stand of trees, where she and Saxon had been.

Chapter Seventeen

Ash looked at Kit, saying, “You do not like me.”

Kit reversed her gaze from the hunting party in the Prince’s honor that was milling below the balcony she and Ash had stepped out on. They were toward the rear of the balcony, one of many on the face of the royal residence. The monstrosity of the monarchy was a country mansion built within the teeming city of London and encompassing many acres of land. Kit imagined it had fed some long-dead King of England’s desire to show power and importance, to have the place built where it was.

They were hidden from view of the participants, of the hunting party below, still Kit stepped back, looking up slightly at Ash. “It is not you personally, sir, it is that you don’t take seriously how lethal The Order is and especially its leader’s maniacal ambitions.” She paused. “Much more than trivial nuisances,” she added emphasizing the word she found distasteful.

“Do not take too seriously what I say. It is all carefully calculated,” Ash said, with the brown in his hazel eyes showing bronze tints flashing in the daylight.

“What would the uncalculated, Ash, say?” she countered.

Ash’s smooth, even lips curved slightly. “I am not sure I can do that anymore.” He paused, with barely perceptible hints of a mental struggle. Then he said, “I have done this too long. I am not certain there is an, ‘Ash,’ any longer, so I will calculate to trust your opinion.”

Kit did not have knowledge what Ash’s, “this,” was. Being a spy for England, perhaps, or in the military. Whatever it was, she only had an intuitive notion that, for a moment, Ash had been more honest with her and himself, than anyone else in a long, long time. Kit speculated that it was a unique experience for Ash to work beside women whether trained spies or otherwise.

The hunting horns sounded, breaking into her thoughts, bringing her reverie, and she noticed, Ash’s to an end. They stepped forward to glance down at the party gathering for the fox hunt. Brynmore was down there. There were so many people, not many would get close to the Prince, who would not participate in the hunt, but merely preside over it.

Brynmore would though, as part of the plan, he would be near enough to say a few words to Prince Charles, while Dame Baset watched from further away. That was the entire point of this first foray, to use, and then to set up Dame Baset. She needed to see Brynmore speaking to the Prince. It was why, when Brynmore had sent his first message to Dame Baset, he’d not requested a meeting and further information on how to gain entrance to The Order. Instead, Brynmore had sent her an invitation to join him at this gathering for the Prince of Wales.

Actually, Brynmore had worded it more like a command that Dame Baset attend him. Brynmore had said he knew what he was doing and Kit had laughed and replied that she knew he knew what he was doing, and she would come to his command anytime. That nearly landed them in bed, which they had not done since the night at The Satyr Whip Club. Only, it was as if there was an unspoken agreement between them that they both wanted to wait, until they could be themselves. The thought between them, believing how powerful that would be.

“There he goes,” Ash muttered.

“Where is she?” Kit asked.

“Over there by the flags,” Ash responded. “She is watching Brynmore all the way.”

“Now, won’t she just run back to Hellion and tell him this!” Kit’s half smile was curling in satisfaction.

“I believe she will,” Ash said, then he glanced at her pointedly. “It is likely you will have to attend one of the cult ceremonies.”

Kit tried not to feel uncomfortable. She wondered how detailed Ash’s knowledge was of her and Brynmore’s visit to The Satyr Whip Club. They probably all knew, she silently chided herself. And, she determined, she was just going to have to ignore that fact. Including having to do it again at a cult ceremony.

Kit sidestepped Ash’s leading question. “It feels more profitable now that the action is in place. I am glad Baco and Cernno were dealt with so quickly and efficiently. I do not think Hellion or Dame Baset have any idea that those two rattlesnakes are in prison and are never getting out.”

Ash raised an eyebrow to her colorful American phrasing. “Likely to be hung one day, protesting the entire way that they had nothing to do with it. Really brilliant. How could they explain why they were there and running away from the spot, where two rifles were found in near vicinity of the shots?”

Kit smirked. “And they dare not mention Hellion, his cult, or try to seek help from any of them. Not that there is any.”

“When all is said and done that is a plan that should go into the books. Unfortunately, it will become more difficult. Dame Baset will be a little harder, and Hellion ... hmm, well, that is going to be tricky. Yet as brilliant as Drummond’s overall plan is, and the first capture of Baco and Cernno was spectacular ... the amazing part is once these malcontents start dropping in the Gaol, one after another, in such a short amount of time, all accused of trying to kill the Prince, the authorities are going to notice and start nosing around, connecting them together into a larger conspiracy.”

“And the remnants of this perverted and murderous cult will never rise again,” Kit stated with satisfaction.

“I hope that is true for you and for all of England,” Ash said, with encouraging vehemence.

Kit was surprised at the emotion Ash showed. It was as if he gave her a glance into his real feelings and it made her think there was more to Ash and his first feigned nonchalance. She let it pass, believing that she understood him just enough to realize that he would close inward if she expanded the conversation. Instead, she changed subjects to their next victim.

“Once we give Dame Baset enough time to tell Hellion that it seems Brynmore is on intimate footing with the Prince, and she gives us a set-in-stone entrance with a date into the cult, then we can get rid of her too.”

Ash nodded as they both turned to look over the balcony railing. They watched Brynmore bowing to the Prince, then doing an about-face and strolling back to Dame Baset’s side.

***

Several hours later, Brynmore grimaced as he paced the small confines of the library-study in his London townhouse. He’d just arrived back from his assignation with Dame Baset at the Prince’s fox hunt. Really, what he wanted to do was shudder in distaste. He felt...

Brynmore turned in his pacing. Bloody hell, he felt dirty and not at all in the enjoyable lusty sense. Dame Baset had been all over him, and according to plan, he was compelled to be all over her in the carriage ride to and from the fox hunt. It had been mild to begin with going to the hunt. But after! He felt like he was unwashed with Dame Baset’s touch and scent covering him. He was surprised at how difficult this was, at how much it affected him. So much for the fallacies that men had no taste in these matters. It thoroughly disgusted him, and...

Kit rushed into the room, breaking his disturbing thoughts. He knew that she’d been upstairs when he arrived. Now with his mind still in turmoil, he backed up quickly making sure a chair was between them, stopping her from coming closer.

“Well?” she asked. Filling the room with her rush of interest, intensity, excitement, and anxiousness.

“Aye, she was impressed,” he said, rasping some of the words as he tried to clear his dry throat. “We have entrance to The Order and supposedly in a rare occurrence Hellion is to speak to us after about the price. Well...” Brynmore coughed, still trying to gain his footing. “She called it an investment, but we both know tis something they want to hold over us, if Yojo is right.”

Kit started around the chair. “That is wonderful and I think Hellion might be edging to ask you for a connection with the Prince. I do not think blackmail, but that was Incubus’s style.”

Brynmore moved around the chair away from Kit’s advance. She’d been talking, but suddenly she seemed to realize. “Brynmore, what is wrong?”

She stopped trying to get closer to him, thankfully, as his hand rose to his mouth and he rubbed his lips. Abruptly, he realized the gesture he’d used numerous times to wipe away Dame Baset’s rouge. Of course, it had to be gone by now. Helplessly, he muttered, “She was all over me. I need to bathe, rid myself of her scent, and change clothes.”

Brynmore felt like everything slammed to a halt. A wall fell, stopping all in it tracks, and what was on the other side, the next breath was forever changed. Kit’s eyes were wide as she said nothing and he stepped around her to leave. Maybe, if she’d tried to stop him, that suffocating feeling of change might have eased or fallen away. He did not blame her that she could find no words. Neither could he.

Kit knew the moment that Brynmore told her of Dame Baset’s physical demands that he’d been forced to have relations with her. In that moment, suddenly, she realized that she loved him. It was a stupid time for it to reveal itself as fact to her, she thought.

“Oh
yes,” she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs toward the bed chambers. “Brynmore had to fuck that awful woman and
now
you realize that you love him!”

It was his reaction. She could feel it seeping inside, she was so closely connected with him. When had that happened? They still barely knew each other, beside some nerve shattering sex. They could not know each other now because they were not acting like themselves — they were enacting these characters they had conjured for the downfall of The Order. The rest of the time they were in the thick of planning revenge or justice, no one acted like themselves during such tense and strange times.

The fact was, she did know him on a deeper level and she understood right now that he was feeling molested ... battered. There were many things she might have done, discovering she was in love, if the situation were different, silly, joyful, and unthinking things that a woman in love might do. She held that back. She would do those things someday, she promised herself. Now she quietly entered Brynmore’s bedchamber and she moved silently to the large brass bath before the fire where Brynmore reclined. He was unmoving, staring at the fire, with steam rising around him.

Kit knelt at the head of the tub behind Brynmore’s head with her gown softly rustling. Brynmore must have heard the sound because his head began to turn, but before he could turn very far, Kit clasped her arms around his shoulders from behind for a hug. Her cheek lay along the dampness of his cheek and hair as his hand rose and clasped over her hands locked together.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him... “Bry, it is all right. It will be all right,” she murmured, tightening her embrace, while rubbing her cheek along his.

Brynmore’s broad hairy chest lifted with a sigh. “That you can even touch me means...” His pause said more than his words. “It’s better.”

His head was bowed and Kit moved her lips to his ear and whispered, “Tell me, Bry. Tell me all of it. It will help.”

The sound he made was sharp, a rude laugh that cut off before it started. “Help? It tis ... was disgusting.”

But then, he kept talking, telling her what he’d done. How he’d kept his hard-edged seduction intact, controlling his dislike, through rapier flirtations. How he’d kissed and fondled, touching breasts and cunt. Always with an edge of controlled roughness. Biting Dame Baset’s neck, rolling her beneath him, trying not to, but knowing he had to.

“So I
fucked
her like an animal. There, on the carriage seat. Yer going to hate me, but I had to divorce myself from what lay beneath me and the only thing I could do was think of you, wanting you.”

“No,” Kit cried softly. “I do not hate you.” She tried to turn their thoughts to take away the sting even as she gulped and she tried to make it more practical. “Did you draw blood? Keep with the plan you started?”

“Aye,” Brynmore huffed. “Aye, I did on her some. She was thrilled.”

Brynmore turned his body with his large hand clasping her nape. Looking directly at her, he blurted hoarsely, “I didn’t come, Kit. I didn’t give her my seed. I just pretended. She couldn’t tell, she was heaving and panting too much in the aftermath.”