Her heart pulsed in anticipation of what was to come.
With lethal blades strapped to each thigh, an additional one concealed in the sleeve of her spencer, a pistol tucked into her skirt pocket, and razor-sharp hairpins, she was prepared for whatever came next.Her only weakness lay in her pretense.She wouldn’t be able to use the skill carved into her bones, but having the weapons on hand gave her comfort.
They were her safety net, an assurance that all would be well.Even if she had to knock Adrian out and chase down the killer herself.
She flexed her fingers, rotated her shoulders, took a deep breath.The noise from the tap-room downstairs increased as more people arrived.A good thing, since it would prevent anyone from hearing a scuffle upstairs.
Additional minutes passed.She lowered herself to the edge of the bed and stared at the door.Either the killer was purposefully late, or he’d changed his mind about showing up.
Her limbs were stiff with anticipation.The need for action, built on the hope of finally reaching some sort of conclusion, coiled firmly around her.Slowing her breaths, she forced herself into a state of calm, a quiet before the storm.Her fingers slid over the blade pressing snugly against her left forearm.It would take less than a second for her to retrieve it.
A knock finally came – three solid taps against the wood.
Pulse leaping, she stood, and crossed to the door.“Yes?”
“It’s me,” a hushed voice spoke.“Nigel Lawrence.”
She took a sharp breath and turned the key, the lock producing a scraping sound before it clicked into place.The door swung open and Samantha stepped back, inviting the man who stood before her to make his approach.
His eyes, a rich shade of toffee, danced with a hint of amusement and keen expectation.Dark brown locks of mussed hair swept his brow as he took off his hat and entered the room.His elegant jawline complimented the straight line of his nose and the mischievous slant of his mouth.
Undoubtedly, Nigel Lawrence was beautifully built.
Of greater note was his debonair manner, which lacked the cold calculation she would have expected.A clever trick to lure his prey closer.
His gaze swept the length of her body with interest.“I must say, your invitation to meet surprised me.”
She smiled sweetly.“I made no such invitation.It was you who invited me.”
He gave her a funny look.A chuckle followed.“If that is how you wish to perceive it, I’ll make no dispute.All that matters is that we are here.Christ, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve dreamt about this.”
“About what, exactly?”She knew the answer, but was curious to know if he’d actually say it.
“Come now, Miss Carmichael.Samantha.There’s no need for you to play coy.I know the sort of woman you are and what you’re after.”
“Really?”She began sliding her hidden blade into her right hand.
“Rest assured, I’ll see to your needs with complete discretion.”He nudged the door shut, locked it, and licked his lips.His eyes gleamed with ready desire.“I’ll take no issue with the number of men I share you with.Just as long as—”
One swift motion was all it took for the tip of her blade to find Mr.Lawrence’s throat.He stiffened, eyes wide and whatever he’d planned on saying forgotten.Samantha watched as he swallowed, the action shifting the elegant knot of his white cravat.
She’d stain it with blood if he made any sudden movements.
“Like I said, I didn’t invite you here, Mr.Lawrence.”Her grip on the dagger’s mother-of-pearl handle tightened.This was the man who’d slit women’s throats without second thought.He’d delighted in their deaths.Every cell in her body ignited until liquid steel poured through her veins.She’d gut him where he stood if given the slightest excuse to do so.“You invited me.”
“No.I didn’t.”The words shook and his body trembled even as somebody tested the door from the opposite side.Adrian.“If it’s proof you require, I’ll show you the letter.”
No such chance occurred before the door shook in response to a powerful force.Wood splintered as Adrian came crashing into the room with all the ferocity of a demonic beast.In one swift movement he’d regained his footing and launched himself squarely at Mr.Lawrence.
One second he was standing before Samantha, looking as though he might piss himself out of fear.The next, he was being pressed into the ground by Adrian’s weight and feeling the pain of each blow delivered.
An ugly crunch sounded, grunts of exertion mingled with anguished gasps.Bone connected with bone and blood started flowing.Samantha stared at the blind rage gripping the man who ought to mean nothing to her, and recognized it as though it were her own.
And yet, something felt off.Mr.Lawrence’s mention of her invitation to him and what he’d said since.His being here had compelled her to make an assumption.But what if she’d made a mistake?What if her confidence in the plan she’d devised prevented her from seeing how it could be used against her?
She didn’t want to believe it, but Mr.Lawrence had mentioned a letter and—
“Adrian.”Deaf to her plea, he closed his hand around Mr.Lawrence’s throat.The man clawed at him, legs kicking as he fought to break himself free.Adrian’s fingers just tightened.A murderous smile of pure satisfaction curled his lips, baring his teeth.Samantha grabbed his shoulder and shook him as hard as she could.“Stop and listen for just one second.Adrian.I think there’s a chance we’ve got the wrong man.”
