Destiny of the Heart (Viking Destiny) (7 page)

Derrick paced across the floor of his cabin rather
impatiently. So far his men had been unsuccessful in
retrieving the little vixen who had managed to knock him out.
They had searched the entire cliff this side of the mountain,
and there was still no sign of Kristen. It was as though she had
completely vanished. Even though he had dismissed the
thought before, he couldn't help but to again wonder if she had
a lover that she was meeting. His fists tightened at his side,
and the anger that was merely simmering below the surface
began to bubble over.

He quickly tamped down the thought of her meeting a
lover, yet again. He didn't know why it bothered him so since
he had a mistress of his own, and he had refused her
marriage contract, but it bloody well did. The thought of
another man touching Kristen set his blood on fire and he saw
red. Derrick chided himself for his absurdity since he'd only
just met her, had in fact, been left for dead by her. But, since
he had no way of knowing whether Kristen was the sort to turn
him over to the authorities, he felt she could still pose a threat.
Still, he was less concerned with her posing a threat and more
concerned with not seeing her again. The very idea left a cold
spot in his chest that he couldn't explain, but he knew it was
important she be found.

Jack chose that particular moment to enter the cabin.
He took one look at Derrick's bemused expression and began
laughing his head off. Derrick, in no mood for Jack's incessant
humor, cocked a brow and gave him a menacing look.

“Are you quite finished?” He asked with his calm tone,
the one he reserved for when he was really angry.
Jack knew the tone for what it was, an invitation to stop
while he was ahead. Derrick blustering and yelling wasn't so
dangerous. But, this Derrick. Well, let's just say Jack had only
seen this from him twice before. The two times previously, the
unlucky fellow had spent the next several weeks laid up in
bed, not moving. Derrick was certainly in a fit to be tied, but
damn Jack if he didn't find it the funniest thing he had ever
seen. Still, he sobered, giving Derrick his mischievous grin.
“Not really, old boy. Deuced if I've ever seen you
looking so bloody pissed off.” Jack risked a chuckle.
“So, you're back to speaking properly, are you?”
“Ah, the crew isn't around, and it's not as funny when
you won't be annoyed with me for doing it.” Jack admitted.
“Did you find her?” Derrick knew the answer but asked
anyway. His Kristen was nothing if not resourceful.
“No, we searched, but she's right disappeared, she has.
She left quite a mess in her wake, I don't mind telling you.
Samson is out. She managed to puncture a vein and he's got
quite a bit of internal bleeding according to the doc. She got
her nails into Thomas' eyes pretty good, too. One of them is
severely damaged and he might have to wear a patch. I
believe he's quite happy about that part, actually. Lee's
alright, though. He will be bruised and have a right headache,
but beyond that he is top notch. You don't seem to look the
worse for wear, but you never know. She did manage to
smash a vase against your head, an expensive one I might
add. How d'ya feel, old man?”
Derrick smiled. Given the circumstances, he felt good.
His mood had improved considerably as Jack relayed all the
damage she had done. His little Kristen – and he'd really come
to think of her as his – was proving to be more fascinating by
the minute. She didn't know it yet, but she had most assuredly
sealed her fate that night. If it was the last thing he did, he
would find her again and discover all of the passions she
possessed.
Chapter 7

Alice Daniels paced in front of the fire, the candles she
had lit shortly after midnight had burned to the bottom, and the
bottle of wine she had intended to share was almost gone. It
was well past the time in which Derrick said he would be
there, and he was never late. At first she worried that
something had happened to him. He didn't know that she
knew, but Alice was aware of his late night activities. While
most young lords spent their evenings lusting after the young
hopefuls of the season, Derrick spent his on the deck of a ship
preparing to smuggle goods in and out of England.

Oh, he was quite good at what he did, and no one else
seemed to know what he was up to. Why, Alice only knew
because she was trained to know such things. When she had
been assigned to live in England, it was the worst punishment
she could imagine, and to her knowledge, she hadn't done
anything to deserve it. But, she had met Derrick shortly after
her arrival three years ago, and he'd made it bearable. She'd
taken the post of his mistress, but that didn't seem permanent
enough. Once her assignment was completed, she would be
forced to return home, and frankly, life with Derrick was
simple. Her punishment had turned into a haven, and she had
grown accustomed to the simplicity. She had hoped to bring
up the subject of making their arrangement more permanent
that evening, but she had been stood up.

Alice walked to what remained of the candles and blew
them out. She drank the rest of the wine straight from the
bottle, then glaring at the bright fire before her, she threw the
bottle into the flames. The glass shattered and pieces went
flying everywhere, but she paid little attention as she watched
the flames dance and burn brighter from the alcohol. There
was no hope for it now. She would have to carry out her task
before someone else was sent and she was permanently
removed. As it was, she was already two weeks late with her
delivery. Any longer and someone else would come, and Alice
knew exactly who would be sent. She shivered at the thought.

That in mind, Alice swung around and headed for the
door. She would need to change quickly as it was almost
dawn. If she hurried, the girl might still be asleep, and Alice
would be in and out before the first rays of light crested the
hills. The beauty of being a mistress was that there were no
live-in servants to watch her comings and goings. As she had
frequent late night visits from Derrick, the servants merely
stayed until after dinner was prepared and cleaned away, then
Alice was left to her own devices until morning.

And, so it was that after Alice had changed into men's
breeches, she made her way out of the house with no one the
wiser of her actions. She knew the streets of London well,
having spent the last three years creeping through them in the
dead of night. Not the nights she spent with Derrick, of course.
But, taking out an entire royal family was a lot of work. And,
the one who paid her had a strict schedule for their demise.
The girl was already supposed to be dead, but Alice had been
hoping to spend more time with Derrick. If she married, she
got to leave her old life behind her.

As she made her way to the manor on the outskirts of
London, she began to wonder why Derrick had stood her up.
Usually, if he was detained for any reason, he would send a
note. Doubt began to creep into her mind. Was he with
someone else? Was he losing interest in her? She couldn't let
that happen. She needed Derrick, and she was desperate
enough to make certain that his interest remained with her.
Alice decided she would just have to snoop around a little to
see what was going on.

Alice reached the manor without issue. Stephen Ashby
wasn't exactly well off, and since Alice had caused the
accident that killed his wife Marie, the manor had fallen to
disrepair. But, Ashby was neither here nor there as far as
Alice was concerned. No, she was there for the girl. The last
remaining descendant of the Christiansen line, and the only
one left to contest Sander's rule. All Alice had to do was slit
her throat and be done with the whole sordid affair. It was
nothing personal, but Alice had a job to do. The Lady Kristen
Ashby would be no more after tonight.

Standing behind a wide oak tree, Alice scanned the
grounds. There weren't any servants lingering about in the
wee hours of the morning, so she crept toward the back of the
house. She knew exactly which window was the Lady
Kristen's and began her climb through the trees at the back to
reach it. Once she had gotten to the roof, it was an easy
matter of scaling over to the window and climbing inside. Lady
Kristen always slept with her window open.

As Alice crawled through the window, she was
immediately grabbed by the scruff and dragged all the way
inside. Panic swelled in her chest at being caught and she
froze in place as a rough hand slapped her across the cheek.
Her head whipped to the side so hard she knew her neck
would be sore tomorrow.

The man slapped Alice again before stomping away to
the other side of the room. By that point, Alice was pretty
angry herself. Not only was her mark clearly not in the room,
but her absence was noticed, which meant that Alice's
presence would be noticed, as well. And, despite the fact that
this man didn't know she wasn't the Lady Kristen, she still
didn't like being slapped around. She put her hands on her
hips as she heard a match against the striker. A moment later,
Stephen Ashby had a candle lit. As he turned to face her, his
angry demeanor changed to one of confusion.

Alice cocked a brow. "Who the devil did you think I
was?"
"This is my house and I'll be asking the questions
around here."
Ashby walked around the bed and came back to face
Alice. As he got a look at her, he swallowed visibly. Alice
grinned. She knew she had that effect on men sometimes.
She had been told once that she was extremely predatory
when she wanted to be. Nevertheless, she had a score to
settle for being slapped twice, and it was a debt she was
unwilling to let pass unpaid. She threw a right cross that sent
Ashby skittering across the bed. He dropped the candle, and
the small flame lit the carpet underneath on fire. Alice stomped
it out and retrieved the candle from the floor, then walked
around to the bedside table to relight it.
Ashby stood up sputtering and indignant as Alice struck
a match and relit the candle
"How dare you!" He grouched.
Alice shrugged. "That was for slapping me. Now, where
is the girl?"
Ashby rubbed his jaw and looked at her irritably. "What
girl?"
"Don't play coy with me, Ashby. It is most unbecoming,
and you can't afford to be unbecoming."
The insult caused him to bristle and puff his chest out,
but then he deflated it and sagged against the bed.
"In truth, I do not know. I locked her in here early this
evening, and now she is gone. All of my wife's money with her,
too. Dratted child. I was hoping to make her my new wife, but
she's rather ungrateful."
Alice thought the girl was rather smart to run away from
an old, wrinkled pathetic gambler, but she refrained from
telling him so. Instead, she walked around the side of the bed
to face him. Killing him wasn't part of the plan. She wouldn't be
paid for his blood, but he had seen her which meant that he
could identify her when Lady Kristen's body turned up. But,
before Alice could make up her mind one way or the other,
Ashby shot off the bed and backed away from her. His eyes
were wild with fear.
"Who sent you? How do you know my name? What do
you want with Kristen?"
"Calm down." Alice said as she rolled her eyes and set
the candle on the desk near the window.
"Did my creditors send you? Because I said I would pay
the money back."
"I'm not here for you."
Ashby stood up straight and cocked his head to the
side. Alice's head spun with the sudden change in Ashby's
mood. She noted he seemed prone to that.
"You're the one that's been killing off my wife's family
the last three years, aren't you?" He asked calmly.
Alice's head snapped up, and she took an angry step
forward.
"How the devil would you know something like that?"
Ashby grinned. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to turn
you over the authorities or anything. But, I've known that
family for nineteen years, and not one of them would have
died the way they did. Marie was an excellent rider, and
Solomon was an accomplished boatman and swimmer, not to
mention the other accidents the nobles suffered."
"Well, if you're not going to turn me over to the
authorities, then what difference does it make what I've done
and why I'm here?"
"Because, I was forced to marry that whore of a woman
nineteen years ago to settle my debts. I've never wanted
anything to do with the lot of them, but around they stayed.
Until you came along and began taking them out of my life one
by one. Thank you for that, much obliged." He gave her a lazy
salute to which she motioned him to continue. "Anyway, the
girl is of no consequence to me. Whether she lives or dies
makes no difference so long as I get the money. Marie, the
despicable cow, left me with nothing and I have debts to pay."
"What do I care of your situation?"
"We can help each other."
Alice laughed at the very idea that she, a master
assassin for the Viking's of Norway, should need help from
such a little man. He was delusional. Although, she did have
to admit he was rather clever, knowing she had been the one
behind the Christiansen deaths, and not questioning it just
because she was a woman. And, not that she needed help,
but if she did strike a bargain with Ashby, she could let him
focus on killing the girl and Alice could focus on her
relationship with Derrick.
Ashby waited patiently for her amusement to settle
down. He had been around women like her long enough to
know that if he insulted her, not only would he not get what he
wanted, but she was just as likely to kill him. He certainly didn't
want to marry Marie's daughter, but he needed the money.
This woman, whoever she was, provided him a solution to his
problem. Killing Kristen would be the ultimate revenge against
his father and Marie, and would refill his coffers for years to
come. It was an arrangement he was quite certain would suit
him better than another marriage.
"Alright, Ashby. I'll allow a temporary partnership. The
girl dies by your hands, you get the money, and I get what I
want."
"And what might that be?"
"Nothing that concerns you. I'll be keeping an eye on
your progress, so do make sure you're not sloppy about it."
"Not to worry, I have the perfect plan."
"I'm sure. Keep in mind that this must be accomplished
rather quickly. Within the week should suffice."
Ashby blustered. "A week?!"
Alice cocked her brow and looked at him with haughty
disdain. "I could just kill you now."
Ashby closed his mouth and huddled against the door.
"A week should be plenty of time."
"I thought as much. Now then, you may find me at 12
Primrose St. I expect regular reports, and don't even think of
lying because I'll know. The how's and why's of it are of no
concern to you, but let me be perfectly clear, Ashby. You
cross me in any way and I will not hesitate to slit your throat.
Do you understand me?"
Ashby nodded fervently. Alice nodded and then leaned
over to blow out the candle. She headed toward the window.
"You could use the door." Ashby offered helpfully.
"I like the window. Remember, one week Ashby. After
that, the deal's off."
She climbed on the ledge and then disappeared into
the darkness. Ashby had the distinct impression that she was
comfortable with the night and skulked about often. It gave
him shivers. But, at least she hadn't killed him and he had an
opportunity to get his hands on Marie's money. He left
Kristen's room, plotting his revenge and laughing to himself.
Chapter 8