Lord Regret's Price: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3 (6 page)

She spared a gentle smile for him but then turned her attention to the electronics she’d been studying before the prince’s arrival. “I know, dearest, yet I must go. Besides, you know what that call meant. Sig is surely accepting a contract at this very moment. We can’t leave until his business is done.”

“Must? No one says you must. We could be out of this system and on our way to a safer destination within the hour.” He sat across from her, watching her fingers dance over the datapad. Her forehead bore the familiar wrinkle of concentration, and her eyes sparked with excitement. Refusing to concede defeat, he leaned toward her, pitching his voice lower and softer. She would hear him. She claimed to always keep one ear tuned to him and one to Sig, no matter how fascinating her discoveries. “Someone here has already tried to assassinate you and Britannia’s on their way. We must be gone as quickly as possible.”

“I refuse to keep running, Gil.” She didn’t look up from her work. “I’ve taken a stand against Majel. She knows what I’m capable of.”

“Yes, but her current crew of scientists must have been working madly to counteract your last demonstration.”

“As have I.”

“But you’re one person against how many, sweetheart? How many scientists does she have at MIGS?”

She sniffed her disapproval. In Queen Majel’s determination to defeat Francia, no matter the cost, she’d given the Military Intelligence and Galaxy Sciences Division carte blanche to create as many weapons and new technologies as possible. The more people who died—as quickly as possible—the better. With countless people of immense intelligence working feverishly to invent the next great weapon of mass destruction for Britannia, how could she possibly think to keep up with their technological advances?

“I have an advantage that they do not.”

She didn’t look up at him, and he hadn’t spoken aloud. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

Smiling down at her work, she picked up a small tool and removed a panel in the center of the star. “Surely I know you well by now, my protective sheriff. Of course you’re worried about my well-being, but I must admit disappointment that you doubt my ability to keep up with a handful of mad scientists employed by Queen Majel for the sole purpose of warping my own original technology.”

He barely managed not to splutter. “I never doubt you, Charlotte.”

“I didn’t share all of my secrets, dearest. In fact, I shared very little with Majel’s cronies. I concede that they have managed to do some revolting things, far beyond what I ever intended, but the underlying signature and structure of even those nanobot weapons are mine. Mine, Gil. Which means if I can get a sample from that Razari woman I spoke to today, I’m quite sure that I’ll be able to reprogram an antidote, so to speak.”

She slipped on a pair of goggles and poked around in the heart of the star for a few moments. Then she looked up at him with a brilliant smile, his heart swelled up in his chest so much he feared his rib cage couldn’t hold it. Even if her eyes bulged oddly beneath the magnifying lens.

“Crude but fascinating. With this chip—” she held up the tool, and by squinting, he could make out a small square of metal on the tip, “—they created an electronic pulse that cycles through frequencies automatically while the star’s in the air, until it finds a match, so that by the time it reaches its target, the weapon can break through shield devices.” She tipped her head grudgingly to the side. “My mistake was in using the first frequency, the most obvious choice, when I created my shield. I shan’t make that mistake again. In fact, I rather like the idea of cycling through frequencies myself, making it even harder for anyone to hack into my shields ever again. However, whoever created this missed the mark entirely in the size and programming capability of this chip. It’s so large. I’m surprised the assassin was able to aim with much accuracy at all. Sig would have my hide if I gave him such a weapon burdened with technology that inhibited its natural usage. I wonder…”

The fire in her eyes and the fever in her voice aroused him like nothing else in this world, even if her excitement wasn’t for him.
Not yet.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box they’d purchased at the shop hours ago and laid it on the table. He didn’t say anything, but merely played with the twine, turning the box over and over, running his fingers along its edges.

Though he didn’t look directly at her, he saw her remove the goggles and carefully set her tools aside. With the natural and easy grace she’d once used to command a ballroom, she glided over to stand beside him. “Since we’re not fleeing to our ship just yet, I suppose we have time for some other experiments.” As she’d done in the shop, she pressed against his arm and side, letting him feel her curves against him. But this time, his lower position in the seat gave him an advantageous view of her breasts, lifted and shaped by her corset.

She trailed a hand along a meandering path down his chest toward the bulge threatening to tear its way through his trousers. Laughing softly in his ear, she pressed her palm against his cock. “Very impressive, darling. Maybe you should have gotten the next size up in rings, because I have a feeling it’s going to be very, very tight.”

Chapter Five

Sig locked the bedchamber door behind him. The call was still waiting, the device vibrating in his hand to remind him to hurry. But there were always a few things he preferred to do before accepting a contract. If a sponsor was desperate enough to seek out the infamous Lord Regret in the first place, chances were good that they’d wait just a little longer until he accepted their call.

The extra room at the inn for each of them had seemed like a silly expense and waste at the time, but now he was thankful he had his own space. He laid the caller on the table and took a long drink of water to make sure his voice was well hydrated. It wouldn’t do for an assassin to have to clear his throat. It implied nerves and he was never nervous.

Not when it came to killing. No, he was stone-cold sure when it came to eliminating a mark.

Glancing in the mirror above the washstand, he straightened his cravat and tipped his bowler slightly for a more jaunty air. Lord Regret had a certain gentlemanly appearance to keep, so he always wore the most well-made and finely tailored clothing. His linen was spotless, his coat a fine brilliant blue that matched his eyes, his buckskins tight, his boots gleaming. Satisfied, he sat down and pressed the button to accept the call.

For a moment, he thought the device was malfunctioning because the caller’s image was grainy and distorted to the point he couldn’t even identify whether it was a male or female.

“Thank you for accepting my call, Lord Regret.”

Even the voice was warped, as though the person spoke underwater. The quality of the signal was very bad—as though they were still using some kind of analog device to render electronic images. He couldn’t speak to the technological capabilities of Zijin but after seeing the advancements in their assassins, this poor transmission surprised him.

The voice was slightly feminine, but he wouldn’t assume the contact was a woman. Slight build, from what he could tell, and flowing robes looked like traditional Zijin wear.

“How may I be of service?”

“I wish to hire your services while you’re in Xuanyuan.”

“Foreigners aren’t allowed into the Forbidden City.”

The image flickered, but he thought he saw the curve of a smile. “I know your esteemed party has been invited to enter Xuanyuan. I wish to hire your services while you’re inside.”

Whoever this person was, they were part of the Imperial family, or at least a very close adviser to the Emperor. Sig had been hoping for a contract, but he was weary of politics. Why did they always want their evil despot killed? Whatever happened to killing a plain-old spouse who’d been cuckolding with the milkman? “Who’s the mark?”

“I can’t tell you that yet.”

He kicked back in his chair, propped his boots on the table and laughed. “Then I can’t help you.”

“As you can see from the poor quality of this signal, it’s very difficult to procure a secure line from inside Xuanyuan. I admit that this call has likely been traced already. They’ll know someone has contacted you but they won’t know who. I cannot give names at this time for fear that I will be betrayed. The message will be given to you only once you’re inside.”

So perhaps this person wasn’t trying to hide from him, but merely worried of being discovered by the guards before the assassination could be carried out. Sig sighed, trying to decide if the contract was worth the headache. If the mark was inside Xuanyuan—even if it wasn’t the Emperor himself—then getting out would be next to impossible.

Perhaps as hard as escaping Londonium with Lady Doctor Wyre.

He had to admit the challenge was more appealing than any amount of money he might gain. He had plenty of money. He didn’t kill for money any longer. He could have retired long ago.

If the ghosts of his past would ever give him any peace.

“I can make arrangements for a quick and smooth exit afterward.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not too interested in being pursued across the galaxy by those ninjas that attacked us in the square today.”

“For now, I’m just a tool, nothing more, but once you’ve completed the assignment, I will be in the position to ensure your full immunity. Trust me, Lord Regret, the general people of Zijin will be forever in your debt. There will be no repercussions from this deed.”

“No offense, madam—” to be safe, he stuck with the female address, “—but I’ve been promised that before and nearly lost my head.”

The person’s voice hardened and lowered, though still distinctly feminine. “Full payment will be sent now. Once you’re inside, you will be contacted with the name and details.”

“And if I don’t accept your offer?”

“Keep the money.” The signal began breaking up, making the contact’s shrug ripple across the screen. “It’s nothing to me.”

Sighing, Sig ended the call. If this contractor could promise full immunity after the deed, then it meant the mark was likely the Emperor himself. Evidently Zijin politics were just as convoluted and treacherous as Britannia’s.

Shaking his head, he had to grin. Charlie was going to have the time of her life inside the Forbidden City. Assuming they all got out alive.

Automatically, he checked his secure bank accounts, not surprised to already see the funds for this new contract already waiting. The contract was open and ready for him to decide what to do. She was going to drag them into Xuanyuan, one way or the other. A contract would make the jaunt even more interesting.

He stripped off his coat and hat and returned to her room. If there wasn’t a rush to escape Zijin space, she’d likely want to do more shopping. He tapped lightly at the door but didn’t hear a reply. It was early for dinner. She surely would have rung for him to join them if they’d gone downstairs.

Intrigued, he opened the door with his key and slipped inside. The main parlor room was just as he’d left it not even half an hour before. The lights were still on.

Charlie had spread several devices across the table, which he had to admit was odd. She usually put her things away under lock and key, afraid that her research would be stolen and misused once more. Along with the things she’d taken from the assassin, he saw two small, plain gift boxes, opened and empty. The boxes had no markings, no indication of where she’d bought the items or what they’d contained.

Instinctively, he carefully tiptoed toward her bedchamber door using every assassin skill he possessed. A similar box lay on the floor outside her door, wrapped in twine. For him? He must assume so since it wasn’t addressed. He picked up the box and untied the twine to find a strange, three-looped ring inside. It weighed fairly heavy on his palm. While he was mulling over what she’d meant it for, he opened the door and every thought he had leaked out of his ears.

As though she’d heard him, even though he’d made no sound, Charlie had turned toward the door, dressed in barely anything at all. Pink silk stockings, her favorite. A corset, not shocking, though it wasn’t the iron maiden she’d pretended to be wearing earlier today when he’d been so testy. She’d loosened the top of her chemise so her breasts were bare, lifted like a sacrificial offering by the corset. Delicate chains hung from her nipples. Berry-red and swollen, they were clamped into the jewelry.

She posed a moment, shoulders thrown back and chin high. “What do you think?”

He opened his mouth but no words would come out, just a rough growl that didn’t even sound like a man.

She laughed. “Good. Now let me help you get your gift into place.”

Relieved that Sig also found her jewelry captivating, Charlotte stepped up to him. His gaze was locked on her breasts. As she neared, he stretched out a finger and lightly touched one clamped nipple. Already engorged and tender, her breast throbbed at the small touch. She groaned out a sound very much like the raw growl he’d made a moment ago.

The pain—and, yes, it was more pain than pleasure—sent a surge of hot tidal need flooding through her body. Her nipples felt like they were on fire, as large as grapefruit and painfully sensitive.

How could such a minor caress put her senses on full overload? She moaned again, unable to suppress the extreme sensations pulsing through her. It felt like live wires were attached to her breasts. An electrical current was charging her system higher, into red-alert territory.