Lord Regret's Price: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3 Read online

  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 sensit
ive.

  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.

  And Sig had done nothing but lightly touch her trapped nipple.

  Being an extremely clever and attentive lover, he immediately leaped to give her more of that exquisite pleasure. He dipped his head and captured her other nipple in his mouth.

  Her reaction shocked them all.

  Her knees collapsed. She clutched desperately at his shoulders, her cry rising to embarrassing decibels. Big hands caught her from behind, or she likely would have hit the floor. Gil supported her against his chest.

  Or did he trap her for the other man’s ministrations?

  Because she pushed back, desperate to escape the incredible yet extreme sensations, and he didn’t budge. In fact, he lifted her off her feet, holding her higher, making it easier for Sig’s torment.

  She gasped for air. She even kicked out with one dangling foot, hoping to hit Sig in the shin. He took the opportunity to capture her leg and lift her thigh around his waist.

  “Stop,” she finally managed to get a coherent word to come out of her mouth.

  Sig lifted his head quizzically, his lips quirked in a wicked grin of dark amusement. “My lady?”

  “This is… I can’t… Oh for heaven’s sake.”

  Gil laughed softly against her ear, but there was a strange vibration in his tone that skittered across her nerves. He didn’t sound like himself. His laugh was almost…cruel. A lot could be said against a man who’d hidden his true identity from her for over a year in order to win her cooperation, but he’d never been cruel.

  “You must be doing something right, Sig. She can’t finish a complete sentence.”

  Sig trailed a fingertip down the valley between her breasts, but he thankfully avoided the torturously swollen tips. “I see you found some interesting toys at that shop, Charlie. I never expected you to be the victim of experimentation.”

  “I’m no victim,” she retorted, seizing a handful of his hair in her fist. She jerked his head back, hard, enjoying the way his eyes tightened with warning, even while his nostrils flared wide. “The intensity of this experiment merely caught me unawares.”

  “You’re feeling pretty damn aware to me, Charlie.” Gil growled against her ear, his breath a hot torment. His palm edged up her rib cage, rough, calloused fingers inching toward her breasts. The thought of his big hand wrapping around her breast made her squirm helplessly, twisting in his grip—whether to flee or urge him to hurry, she didn’t know.

  And the sounds…

  Majel help her, she’d never made such ridiculous sounds before for a man. Never.

  “If you truly want us to stop, you must tell us now.” Sig’s voice was rough, losing his normal genteel persona. Ignoring the fierce grip on his hair, he bent his head back toward her breasts. The very brush of his breath made her cry out again. “Do you like this? Do you want this? Or is it too much?”

  Panting, she had to think and categorize her own reactions, because she honestly didn’t know. Her breasts hurt. Every slight touch made her want to whimper and plead and beg.

  And I never beg.

  Yet she couldn’t deny the intensity of her arousal. She could smell her own musk and feel the dampness growing between her legs. Sig in front of her. Gil behind. She’d loved them both, but never at the same time like this, wild and out of control and so damned desperate to have them filling her up with their desire as quickly as possible.

  She tottered on the edge of a vast, bottomless pit. If she fell in, she might tumble out of control for eternity.

  Sig tugged gently on the chain, but it was enough to arch her back on a harsh cry, her hand clawing at his shoulder, her head digging into Gil’s chest. Her breath exploded out of her throat. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

  He winked at the man holding her up. “My lady’s wish is my command. But, first, I think we need to tighten these clamps just a little.”

  Gil had seen—and appreciated—her passionate side too many times to count. The woman wore pink silk stockings and glorious unmentionables. She loved pretty, feminine things, yet could wade into battle with her chin held high without a single hesitation.

  Yet he’d never heard her beg before. Not once.

  “Please, dear God, Sig, if you don’t stop it at once I’m going to scream.”

  His head didn’t lift from her breast. “So scream.”

  Gil hadn’t seen this side of the infamous assassin, either. Cool, detached and deadly, or wickedly smug and arrogant, certainly, but this dark, hard edge glinting in Sig’s eyes was new.

  Like a wild beast stalking his prey, its hunger ignited by the helpless quality of her cries.

  Gil feared very much that the same hard glint must be shining in his eyes because he couldn’t help but press his palm against her other breast. The peak of her nipple had never been so pronounced and hard against his palm. She loved it when he rubbed his palms on those sensitive nipples. In fact, the very first time he’d made love to her, she’d deliberately placed his hand on her breast and voiced that very desire.

  With the clamps on her nipples, that simple caress shattered her.

  She bucked in his arms. She threw one arm back to twist around his neck. The other hand was fisted in Sig’s hair. She must have surely yanked a handful of hair out of his scalp, but the man wouldn’t back down from licking and breathing on that tortured nipple. Her voice rose and she arched harder into Sig, grinding herself on his thigh. Shuddering, she came apart between them, groaning until her voice was hoarse.

  “Good?” Gil whispered against her ear once her breathing evened out somewhat.

  “No,” she panted. “Fantastic. Do it again.”

  Sig twisted one of the little screws on the clamp so it pinched tighter, sending another quake through her body. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what we want to hear. We don’t want to hear orders. We want to hear your pleas.”

  “Aren’t you going to put on your rings?” Her voice sounded both hopeful…and desperate. As though she wanted them as painfully aroused as she was.

  Gil’s cock swelled at the thought, already so hard that the thought of squeezing that ring onto him made him want to grit his teeth on a few choice curse words. He’d do it, absolutely, if that’s what she wanted. But right now…

  “I’d rather we put our cocks to better use,” Sig finished the thought aloud for him, using coarser language than Gil had ever heard in their lady’s presence. “You’ve never had both of us in you at the same time.”

  Gil had enough blood left in his head to be surprised by not only the man’s sudden crudeness, but also his own reaction to it. He felt primed and loaded for bear. Muscles humming on the edge, his heart pounding, his blood hot and singing in his veins. Sex with Charlotte had always been good.

  But this time…

  It was going to blow the top of his skull off.

  Yet he couldn’t help but wonder why. Why tonight, after Sig had walked out of the shop with such evident abhorrence? Was it only the thought of the flail—and the pain it would bring him—that had made him walk out? But then why was it so arousing to have Charlie squirming and gasping and fighting to get away, even while she moaned and begged them to hurry?

  She was just as incensed with desire as they were. She tore at Sig’s cravat and shirt, sending his cufflinks flying across the room, but he wouldn’t lift his head from her breasts long enough for her to get the material over his head. She was practically sobbing with impatience.

  “Gil, please help me.”

  He shifted her weight over to the other man so he could strip off his trousers and waistcoat as quickly as possible, but she sank toward the floor. Sig bent down, easing her toward her knees. “Don’t you want the bed, sweetheart?”

  “No,” she growled out, yan
king his trousers open. “Too far away.”

  Seeing her on her knees made the blood pound harder in his skull. A woman like Charlotte commanded her pleasure. It wasn’t often that she took a position of lesser authority, even in the privacy of her bedchamber. Yet he couldn’t deny the surge of visceral lust knifing through his gut. “How may I be of assistance, my lady?”

  She spared a glance over her shoulder at him. Her dark, velvety hair tangled about her face, heavy curls falling out of the careful pins she’d placed this morning. Her slumberous eyes were huge and dark and so hot they shimmered with the desire blazing in her. “I need you thrusting into me from behind, filling me up until I scream.”

  Her words drew him like the moon called the tides. He sank down behind her, one hand gripping her shoulder, while he ran his other in a heavy, deliberate caress down her spine. “Your wish is my command.”

  “But I won’t be able to scream…” she turned and looked back up at Sig, “…because my mouth will be too busy.”

  Out of control. That’s how she felt.

  She’d never been out of control before. Even when she knew Queen Majel was going to have her either arrested or assassinated to silence her, Charlotte had been in control, both of her emotions and, of course, her mental faculties. No one had a brain like hers. She didn’t say that boastfully in the slightest. She’d carefully assessed the situation and developed a foolproof plan to escape the tightening net and win her freedom in a matter of hours, not days and weeks.

  But tonight she had lost all control, not just of her emotions, but also of her normally impressive brain.

  All she could think about was getting filled. The damnable clamps on her nipples had eaten a hole into her brain, spreading an aching pit of emptiness and desperate need. Her inner muscles kept clenching down, begging for something, anything, to fill her. Preferably Gil and that impressive erection of his. Yet even then she’d still be empty and aching.

  Unless Sig was inside her too.

  Maybe some of his darkness was leaking into her through their strange bond. He’d been withdrawing bit by bit, still charming and passionate and saying the right things, but emotionally and spiritually drawing away. Protecting himself…or her? She couldn’t say. But now, she had him here, close, intense and fully engaged. The reluctance he’d shown earlier today was gone, replaced by a knife-edged desire that had her racing faster out of control.