The Unicorn's Tail (The Artifact Hunters) (5 page)

Jackson watched the lads from the workshop trying to impress the girls from the house and shook his head. Dumb fucks, thinking the boy with the biggest twig/marshmallow combination would win his pick of the giggling females.

Movement on the darkened perimeter caught his eye. Cocking his head, he caught the thud of horse hooves and an equine snort. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Sure enough, three shadows detached themselves from the surrounding velvet blanket and approached the party. He sucked in a breath as he recognised the lead man. A long brown leather coat swirled with each step and flapped at the waist to reveal the pistol on his hip. Brown hair cut shaggy and blowing around his face and a tilt to his chin suggested trouble on legs.

"Problem?" Nate asked, as the uninvited guests approached.

"Jasper Hunter, thinks he's a partner in things out here. Obviously the message isn't getting through his thick skull."

The uninvited men each snagged a beer as they passed the table with the kegs. Their pace slowed as interested eyes turned their way.

"I'll be sure to use small words." Nate didn't move, but held his ground, making them cross the lawn to him. The men wound their way through his people. Some of his men checked sleeves or patted their sides, touching concealed weapons — an unconscious reaction to trouble amongst them.

Jackson gave a snort. "And carve a picture into his forehead."

Hunter came to a halt a stride away from Nate and Jackson.

"Nice party, Lyons. Seems my invite got lost in the post." He gestured around with his beer.

Nate crossed his arms, his mask in place. "No, it didn't."

A frown crossed the other man's face. "But we didn't get one."

"Exactly." He didn't move a muscle or change his tone or inflection. The lack of emotion unsettled some people, especially those who expected a reaction from their posturing.

Jackson rubbed a hand over his chin, hiding a smirk behind the action. The lad really was dense. Lyons would play with him like a cat with a mouse. A very limp, stupid mouse that had run straight at the cat's mouth.

The lad stood a bit taller, trying to match Nate's six-foot-four, and came up six inches short. He wasn't so much a head short as a dick short, in a couple of places.

"Hear you're setting up shop out here. Moving into my territory."

Laughter broke out around them and Jackson wondered how the boss didn't double over with them. He changed his opinion of the lad and this size of his balls. He displayed the sheer ignorance of a blind rhinoceros that also happened to be a eunuch. He'd blundered into something he couldn't see or ever hope to understand.

"My family has owned this estate since the fifteenth century. I wasn't aware you were here first. Do you have Nosferatu blood in your veins, perhaps?" Nate asked.

Hunter blinked. "Nosfer what?" One of his seconds leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He nodded his head and tried to meet Nate's gaze. "Stop throwing your fancy words. You know what I mean. If you want to do business here you have to go through me."

Nate did smile at that, the wolfish grin of the predator about the snap the head off its prey. "Given your obvious diminished capacity, I'll make this simple for you. Take your beer, clear off, and don't ever come back or I
will
go through you."

He turned his back and walked away. Back to where Cara conducted toasted marshmallow experiments that now expanded to testing different types of wood and sizes of branch.

"You think you're a big man here, with your men around you." Hunter shouted at the retreating back. "But what are you like on your own, in the dark?"

Jackson laughed and dropped a hand on the man's shoulder. His seconds stiffened but found themselves surrounded by a wall of muscle. "You've got it wrong; it's here with us all around that you're safest." Digging his fingers into the man's flesh, he turned him around and propelled him back through the crowd. "Boss grew up here, fishing and hunting. He has a thing for knives. You ever met him in the dark, alone, he'll gut you like a fish before you can make a sound."

They reached the edge of the light and moved to where three horses stood tethered.

"Don't be stupid. Make yourself scarce." Jackson gave Hunter a shove toward his mount.

"You don't scare me, none of you do." He stabbed the air with his finger.

"Then you're a fuckin' idiot." The men ranged out behind him, blocking the way back to the bonfire. At least one of the three had a brain cell and realised there wouldn't be a party for them.

He climbed back on his horse. "C'mon," said the mounted man. "Save it for later."

Hunter gave a grunt, and for a moment Jackson thought the fool would have a go at making his point. Then he tossed the beer to the ground and snatched his reins. He pulled the horse around tight as he mounted and put his boot to its side.

"Think he'll be back?" one of his men asked.

"Not tonight, but keep your eyes peeled for him." He waited until he no longer heard the pounding hooves before returning to the bonfire.

Loki approached as he stared into flames. "Do you know how I intend to start the New Year?"

"How?" he grunted out the syllable without turning.

"Watching a very large chicken run around the back lawn." He gave a soft laugh and scanned the surrounding throng of people before his gaze rested on one in particular, wearing deep red and laughing with the house maids.

Pirate had some plan up his sleeve if he thought he'd win the bet tonight.

Loki slapped him on the back. "Not long now. I need to go limber up my lips." He disappeared from his side.

Thoughts ran through Jackson's brain before he smacked himself. New Year's, of course. The traditional kiss on the stroke of midnight. "Where are they?" He spun away from the heat and flame. The crowd got louder as the excitement level rose. Men eyed the women with open speculation, lining up their choice for the impending kiss. Women grouped together and giggled, because it wasn't the man's choice at all.

Cara gave Nate a promising smile and headed toward the edge of the ring of light. Her body drifted to the dark side as he prowled behind her.

"One minute," someone screamed over all the laughter and chatter. The music died down as the impromptu orchestra put down their instruments and rose to join the festive atmosphere.

He swung his head back and forth, the bloodhound trying to catch a scent. Then he caught a glimpse of them over the other side and shouldered his way through people. "It ain't gonna be so easy," he muttered as he kept his gaze fixed on Loki lining himself up behind Amy.

He reached out and tapped the pirate on the shoulder. He spun and his black eyes widened. "You're too late." He gave a laugh.

The hand on the huge clock edged closer to the twelve and the crowd began counting.

"Ten… nine…"

Loki turned his back on Jackson and stepped closer to Amy. He breathed into his hand and sniffed his breath. His hand reached out for the noble girl. There was no way he would win this bet, not right in front of him.

"Eight…. seven…"

Jackson gave the other man a shove to one side before he could touch their target. Well aware of the game they played, he positioned himself to be the only face Amy saw at midnight. At the moment the roaring flames captured her attention but in a few seconds she would turn, looking for someone to kiss.

"Six… five…"

Loki shoved back, but Jackson stood his ground. Years of boxing taught him to take a hit but hold his position.

"Suck this." He grinned at the pirate and gave him the finger.

"Four… three…"

Rage crossed the other man's face. Unused to losing, he didn't intend to start now. One arm swung back then struck, hitting Jackson's jaw. His head recoiled. Damn pirate had a good arm for a flyboy. He couldn't let that go unanswered.

"Two…"

He struck his own blow, but his opponent dodged. Loki caught his arm on the downswing and pulled him into a headlock. The two men fell to the ground and the fist fight turned into a wrestling match. They grappled, each trying to gain the superior position and pin the other to the ground. Jackson had weight and sheer physical strength on his side, Loki had agility and speed.

*

"One!" The assembled masses cheered. Amy looked around as Nate caught Cara from behind and the two of them disappeared into the shadows. She had, foolishly, hoped to catch Loki. The charming devil probably found a more willing and experienced woman to help him celebrate. An image of lonely Jackson came to mind and she shoved it down.

A roar came from behind her, where a loose circle of men appeared to be betting on a wrestling match. A tug came at her sleeve. Glancing down she found Stefan, the house boy. All of six years old, he gave her an enormous and gappy (he had just lost his front teeth) grin.

"Kiss, miss?" he lisped between the space in his teeth.

She laughed and bent down to kiss his cheek. He reddened, gave her a quick bob and ran into the crowd yelling

"She kissed me! She kissed me!"

Chapter Five

2
nd
January 1862

Jackson found Amy sewing curtains for the study. She kept her hands busy and he wondered what flitted through her mind as she worked. Did she think of clothes and fripperies like other women, or deeper things? His gut told him far more went on in that head than she let on.

He coughed to attract her attention and she gave a start.

"Oh." She jumped and then stared at her finger where she'd jabbed the needle.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Dollface said you would look at the cottage, see what you can do."

She popped the bleeding finger in to her mouth and he watched those pink lips suck the digit. He looked away and shifted from foot to foot, his pants feeling a fraction too tight. No man could watch that and not imagine something other than a finger being caressed by a woman's tongue.

Her gaze darted from him back to the fabric in her lap. She pulled the finger out with a pop. "Yes, all right. A walk would be nice." She parked the needle and slid the curtain off her knee to the sofa.

Bloody hell. Why did life keep throwing women at him who wanted to walk everywhere?

She trotted a few paces behind as he headed to the sunroom at the back of the house, which became a wet room in winter. He cast a glance to make sure she followed, but even in the wide corridor she kept her distance. Bloody stupid bet, he couldn't get within three paces of the chit, how the hell was he ever going to kiss her? Lips on a stick?

He grabbed his overcoat and woollen hat and watched her don a pale lilac coat.

"If you insist on walking through the snow you'd be better off with pants and boots."

Her head shot up and a look of horror crept into her brown eyes as though he'd just suggested to walk around naked for the health benefits. "Cara might wear pants but I shall not do anything of the sort."

He gave a huff. "Your choice." He held the door open and they stepped out into the frigid winter air. The wide stone steps became close-cropped lawn until the edge of the trees and the path that was little more than a sheep track. A worn space that ambled among the trees with no apparent direction, except it was the same path all the animals trod, including the men who walked this way.

He shook his head, watching her skirts soak up the moisture and become heavier with each stride. The snow piled higher around the trees and wood where the watery sunlight couldn't reach. With each water-logged step she became slower and fell farther behind. He stopped and leaned against a rough trunk, waiting for her to catch up.

Her eyes remained downcast the whole time, intent on the placement of each foot. She stopped with a start when she saw his boots jutting into her line of sight. Her gaze moved upward. "Sorry," she muttered and blushed as she realised he waited for her. "The pavements are swept in London. I didn't realise snow was so…wet." She screwed up her eyes and took a couple of short breaths.

Hells bells, was she going to cry? Over a damp skirt?

"If you're gonna wear skirts get some hikes for rough ground."

Those mournful eyes flew open. A man could get lost in those warm depths, if he ever got close enough.

"Hikes?" she asked.

"Skirt hikes, lifts the front so you don't end up dragging a bucket of water along with you." He patted down his pockets and then flicked open the pouch on his belt. He rummaged around and came up with two split rings and some string. "Not perfect, but this might work."

He slid the knife out of its sheath and cut the string in two. Then tied a piece to each ring and handed them to Amy. "Have you got something at your waist to tie one on each side?"

She took the makeshift hikes and turned her back. He watched her unbutton her coat and lift her jacket, fiddling with something he wasn't allowed to see. Probably using the bottom eyelets on her corset. An image flashed through his brain; Amy in corset, under-chemise, stockings, and nothing else, and most definitely not shying from his gaze. The sight of her sucking her finger had got jammed in his brain and messed up his thought processes. He buried the unwelcome images under a ton of cold snow. His dick straining in his pants wouldn't help the situation or put her at ease.