The Charmer (53 page)

Orlando still stood by the door,
as if he was unsure where to go or what to do. It was the first good look she'd
got of him since seeing him in the walled garden. His hair hung damp and limp
around his face, his eyelashes were clumped together and his lips had gone
blue.

"You're getting the rushes
wet," she said. "Come by the fire and take off your clothes."

He began to remove his cloak, but
his movements were stiff and awkward and his fingers shook. "I can't."

She helped him out of his cloak,
jerkin and doublet, then peeled off boots, netherstocks, and hose and finally
his shirt until he was gloriously naked. And shivering violently.

"Oh Orlando," she whispered.
"Look at you, you big fool."

He managed a one-shoulder shrug.
"I'm not the one who locked the doors."

"But you were the one who
refused to seek shelter in the outbuildings." She wrapped a blanket around
him and directed him to sit on another she set out in front of the fire.
"You would have been perfectly warm snuggling up to Silver."

"She smells of horse."
He sat and drew up his knees beneath the blanket. Susanna placed two more blankets
around his shoulders but he caught her hand. "Forget about me, you need to
get out of your clothes too."

"I will, but you're still
cold."

"I'll warm up faster when I
see you naked."

"That won't stop you
catching your death."

"No, but it will make death
so much sweeter."

She turned her back and removed
her clothes then wrapped the fur coat around her shoulders. She breathed in the
scent of the lavender that Bessie had stored with it to keep the moths away. The
fur was so warm, so blessedly warm.

"Come here," Orlando
murmured.

She knelt beside him and touched
his cheek. Another shiver wracked him. "You're still frozen," she
said.

"I can think of a way to
warm up."

"So can I. I'll get another
blanket."

He caught her arm. "Lie with
me, Susanna." His voice was full of the heat his body lacked. "It's
the best way to warm up and you know it."

"It may also be the most
foolish way."

He tucked a damp lock of her hair
behind her ear. "Then call me a fool." He shucked the blankets off then
helped her out of the coat. He laid it over the blanket covering the rushes and
indicated she should lie down. She stretched out on the coat, the soft fur
caressing her skin, sliding between her fingers and toes. He lay beside her and
arranged the blankets over them both.

He groaned when their bodies
touched. "Better," he murmured. "Much, much better."

His body rippled with another
shiver and she wrapped her arms around him, held him close. He nuzzled into her
throat and soon his skin felt warm against hers. His soft breathing became deep
and rhythmic as he fell into slumber. She closed her eyes but did not sleep. It
wasn't because she feared him. She did not. Not anymore. But an overwhelming
sadness consumed her. Orlando Holt had lied to her from the very beginning and
he'd done it so convincingly.

How could she believe anything he
said ever again?

Some time later, as the sun
cracked through the clouds, he woke up. He looked at her from beneath heavy
lids. "You saved me," he murmured.

She withdrew her arms and shifted
a little away. He didn't try to close the gap but the sleepiness vanished.
"If you'd gone to the village or to the stables, I wouldn't have needed
to."

It was a long time before he
spoke again. "Susanna...why didn't you tell me about the message? Why
didn't you give me a chance to explain?"

"Explain? Ha!" She sat
up and dragged one of the blankets with her but the edge was stuck under his
hip. "How can I believe your explanations, Orlando? You have lied to me at
every turn. I cannot trust a single thing you say anymore."

He propped himself up on his
elbow and frowned at her. "Is that what you think?"

"You would have come up with
an explanation that sounded perfectly reasonable. That's how you do it, isn't
it? Tell me something I either want to believe, or something that is close
enough to the truth that it's plausible." She wrenched the blanket out
from under him and flung it around herself as she got up. "I will not be
treated like a fool."

"I don't think you're a
fool, Susanna. I never have."

She stoked the glowing coals in
the fireplace and laid kindling over the top. He came up behind her and kissed
her throat.

She pushed him away. "Stop
it. I don't want you touching me." Touching led to making love and that
led to her believing she could trust him. She would not make that mistake
again.

He sat back down on the fur cloak.
She knew because she could feel the loss of him and hear the rustle of blankets
and his small sigh. She stayed near the fire to warm up and banish the cold
that had seeped into her again.

"I have a brother," he
said. "He lives in London. I don't have a sister in Salisbury. I don't
have a sister at all."

"Is this supposed to make me
believe you now? You think telling me about your family will cancel out the
lies?"

"No. I know I've lost your
trust and I know I'll have to work very hard to win it back."

She swung round. "It is
not
a prize to be won nor is it something you can retrieve like a lost buckle at
the bottom of a pond."

He swallowed hard and nodded
once. "My brother's name is Thomas. We don't get along anymore. My mother
died five years ago, my father a year before her. He was a merchant who
imported goods from the Continent and the Orient. My brother took over the
business when he died."

"I don't need to hear
this." But a part of her
wanted
to hear it. A very large part. She
turned her back on him and pulled the edges of the blanket closer at her chest
even though the fire blazed.

"My father was an ambitious
man. He prized money and position above everything. Our house was—is—large. We
employed many staff. My brother and I had London's finest academic tutors, as
well as fencing and archery masters, our own horses... Whatever a boy could
want. We were indulged, and I'm not too proud to tell you that indulgence
almost ruined me. In a way, Thomas was fortunate. Inheriting the business and
the responsibilities of our family and his new wife gave him purpose. He didn't
follow the same path as me."

"What path was that?"

"The one that led to me
almost throwing my life away. Thomas set me to work in the warehouse. I counted
goods until my eyes felt like they'd fall out. I talked to merchants who were
just like my father—greedy and self-important. I despised it. Day in, day out,
I worked in that windowless warehouse and at night I sat through endless
dinners so my brother could rise through the Guild's ranks as Father had done.
I don't blame Thomas for wanting to become Master of the Guild. It was bred
into him as eldest son that he would one day achieve it. I don't blame him at
all for putting me in a place that drove me mad."

"You went mad?"

"In a manner. I could feel
myself leeching away, all my drive and desires just fading. I felt like I was
suffocating, like the walls were closing in around me. If that's not madness,
then I don't know what is."

"What changed? How did you
get away?"

"My frustration led me to
the alehouses, and that led me to fights and women. A lot of both, I'm sorry to
say. I spent time at the Marshalsea Prison for affray."

Susanna gasped, but covered her
mouth when he winced at her shock. "Is that why you left? To escape your
reputation?"

"Not quite. I came out of
prison and continued my life as it was before. Nothing had changed. Until one
night I ended up in the bed of a woman who'd led me to believe she was a
widow."

"She wasn't?"

"Her husband was very much
alive. As was his brother. They learned my name, but instead of setting upon
me, they went to my house. I wasn't home, but my family was. They beat Thomas
and terrified his wife May and the maids until thankfully, some of the male
servants overpowered them. When I found out what happened, I hunted them
down."

"And?"

"And I did what I felt was
necessary to keep my family safe. Then I left London immediately. I knew my
brother would survive by then, but I couldn't face him or May. I'd become the
sort of man I despised and I needed to leave that behind. Start afresh."

He spoke with detachment, like a
narrator but one who lacks passion for the story. Was it his way of protecting
himself from the memories and the loss of his family?

"Is that when you became...an
assassin?"

Orlando held his breath. It was
the question he'd been dreading. Her reaction, he dreaded even more. "I'm
not supposed to tell you that."

She blinked at him with those
big, beautiful eyes that were usually so vibrant but were now cloudy. Despite
everything he knew about her, her life, and the hardships she'd endured, there
was innocence in them. She was no fool, but she was too trusting. It was one of
the things he adored about her.

"Then don't," she said,
turning away.

"I'm not supposed to, but I
will." Hughe be damned. If he found out and wanted Orlando to leave the
Guild, then so be it. Orlando could always work alone, or perhaps band together
with Monk. He simply could not have Susanna distrusting him anymore, and the
only way to gain her trust was to tell the truth in everything.

She rested her chin on her drawn
up knees, the blanket still around her. The room was much warmer now and he
dropped his blankets to his waist. The flare of desire in her gaze burned
brightly, albeit briefly, before she had it under control.

"Hughe saw me kill the
brothers."

"Hughe?"

"The gentleman you saw in
Sutton Grange and then at church. His name is Hughe St. Alban, the earl of
Oxley."

"You call this Lord Oxley by
his first name?"

He shrugged. "He doesn't
stand on ceremony with the members of the Guild."

"The Guild?"

"The Guild of
Assassins."

Her face paled. "Oh. Yes. Of
course." Her fingers curled tighter into the woolen blanket.

"I was Hughe's first member,
Rafe was his second, and Cole the third to join. Rafe has moved on, but Cole
and I remain. You don't need to fear them, Susanna. Or me. We don't kill
indiscriminately. Every one of our targets is deserving and thoroughly
investigated first. We don't eliminate anyone unless we are absolutely certain
of their guilt. No exceptions or mistakes. That's why you are still here today.
I didn't believe you killed your husbands and there was no proof."

"What!" She sat up
straight and the blanket slipped off her shoulders, exposing the swell of her
breasts. Would she let him kiss her there? "What do you mean?"

"An anonymous person
commissioned us to kill you. They claimed you murdered both of your husbands,
but your crimes were overlooked because of your position within the community.
Our client said you were a danger to other men, and especially your next
husband. He paid us well, with the promise of more to come."

"This client..." she
whispered. "He did not make himself known to you?"

"No. The way our network is
set up, it's possible for people to employ us without ever giving away their
identity. It's how we like it. Without that anonymity, most would not seek us
out. This is not the first time we've had a false claim, but it is the first
time we've feared for our target's safety."

She lifted the blanket again and
pressed the edge to her lips. "Why? Why would someone want me...?"
Tears sprang to her eyes, and he desperately wanted to move closer but didn't
think he would be welcomed.

"I don't know, but I feel
like I'm closer to finding out," he said. "Do you understand now why
I couldn't leave last night? A locked house would hold no difficulty for
someone intent on doing you harm. The only reason I didn't force my way inside
was because I didn't want to scare you any more. You were terrified of me by
then and going against your wishes would have worsened your fear."

She closed her eyes and rested
her forehead on her knees.

"Susanna..." But there
was nothing more to say. Except... "Despise me if you will. I deserve it.
But please, do not fear me."

She lifted her head and wiped her
damp cheeks with the blanket. He shifted closer but she shook her head. "I
don't fear you, Orlando. I did, briefly, but not now. I fear...my reaction to you."

"What do you mean?"

The sad, faraway look in her eyes
boded ill. Very, very ill. "I think you already know I did not enjoy happy
marriages. I have the misfortune of attracting men who like me for reasons
other than my character. My husbands wooed me, charmed me into marriage, and
used a different but no less potent charm on my father so that he agreed to the
unions. It was only after the weddings that I learned the true nature of both
my husbands. They wanted a pretty wife; they did not want
me
. They
thought I would be biddable once I was wed, and eager to please them and help
further their interests. But I didn't like their politicking and being pretty
wasn't enough in the end. John blamed me for not charming his influential
friends, and Phillip blamed me for the same as well as for my low connections
in the village. My friends. He..."

She swiped at the tears falling
freely down her cheeks. Orlando sat beside her but did not touch her. She
wouldn't want that.

"One day he was so angry
because I defied him to visit my friend Joan. He pushed me and I fell."