Chapter Eight

Her announcement to recruit him went down exactly as a lead balloon would in the Thames—it disappeared into the murky depths and sank to the bottom all but instantly as Marcus eyed her like she had completely lost her wits.

“Recruit me? You seem to enjoy playing dangerous games, Lady Kaitlyn.” His voice was deadly and low as he leaned in closer to her, his breath but a whisper away. “For your sake, I hope you know the rules.”

There was an unspoken promise in his words and a shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. “I’ve played dangerous games my entire life, Lord Westwood. So, yes, you can be assured I know the rules.” Though she had a feeling when it came to Marcus that the rules would fly out the window. The thought was as frightening as it was thrilling.

“It’s back to Lord Westwood, is it?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought now we are alone you wouldn’t be so formal.”

“I slipped into childhood habits when calling you by your given name last night,” she replied, eyeing the slight smirk on his face, and knowing that he was enjoying teasing her. “I will try not to do so again. I do know some of the proprieties.”

“Who would have guessed?” He shrugged. “But there’s no need for formalities. You have already kneed me in the bollocks, so call me what you will. Blackmail is an intimate business, after all.”

“I’m not blackmailing you.” Kat had to resist the urge to stomp her foot on the spot. “I told you, I’m recruiting you. I have no intention of having you critiqued in the Gazette, regardless of whether you agree to help me or not.” She tilted her head as she stared steadily at him. “However, after you hear what I have to tell you, you will be begging me to assist.”

“I don’t beg for anything.” His voice was smoothly confident as he leaned in closer. “Though you might after we’re done.”

Kaitlyn gulped. The very words were like a soft caress along her skin, leaving her breathless.

The sound of a woman’s laughter echoed down the hallway coming toward the stairway from the ballroom. It was enough to remind them of their surroundings and break the odd spell between them.

“Come,” Marcus said. “We need to talk without fear of being overheard.” He placed a light hand on her elbow and guided her down the hall. “And you can explain to me your rationalizations for why you did what you did. I’m sure it will prove entertaining if nothing else.”

Normally, Kat would take exception to a man touching her, but this was Marcus and his touch did the strangest things to her. Even now as he led her into Darrow’s library, she had to work hard to keep her reaction to his touch from showing. The heat radiating from his fingers, even through the material of his gloves, felt like it burned a hole on the bare skin of her upper arm, sending a wave of electricity through her entire body.

She wondered what it would feel like to have him touch her elsewhere… For him to caress her waist, her thighs, her innermost core. The thought was as shocking as it was scorching.

Kat tried to regain her wayward emotions by taking a deep breath, but all she ended up doing was inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, which clouded her already clouded senses a great deal more. What was wrong with her? She’d been trained to never allow herself to be so distracted. Not that she’d ever been as attracted to anyone before as she was to Marcus, but still, she knew better.

As soon as they entered the library and it was clear they were alone, Kat wrenched her arm free from Marcus’s and stalked over to the fireplace burning cozily on the right wall, opposite a large, gleaming rosewood desk. She was more upset with herself for simply being led along and doing nothing to stop him. But she’d been powerless to stop him, caught up in her thoughts of him touching her.

Marcus followed her into the room, kicking the door closed behind him with the back of his boot, and then marched over to stand in front of the desk, arms crossed over his chest as he faced her.

To anyone else, he’d look menacing, downright fierce even, as he stared at her. But to Kat, he looked enticing. So much so that she was wrestling with herself to resist storming over and demanding he kiss her.

“All right then, talk,” he said, thankfully oblivious to her internal struggle. “Tell me this master plan of yours and why you had to list my name, making everyone think I’m some nefarious bachelor who eats virgins for breakfast.”

Kat nearly laughed, grateful that the idea of Marcus being some sort of debauched rake, broke the passionate trance she’d half been in. “I needed everyone to think you were going to be critiqued so you’d receive an invitation to become a member of the Corinthian Club. An invitation I believe you should have received this evening.”

“How the bloody hell do you know that?” Now it was his turn to regard her with suspicion. “Do you have an informant in my household?”

She bestowed upon him a supremely frosty glare. “No, of course not.” Though it would’ve been a handy thing, as she preferred to try to have at least one informant in most houses of rank. It’s how she obtained a great portion of her information. Servants were a veritable fount of the stuff. “I anticipated you’d receive an invitation, because every other bachelor we have named thus far for critique in the Gazette has immediately been sent an invitation to join the Club. In having you named, I was hoping you would be invited.”

“Why would you wish for me to be a member of that sort of establishment? It’s known for some rather tasteless activities…” Marcus seemed uncomfortable even discussing the matter, which was rather endearing.

“I’m well aware of the Corinthian Club’s profligate and debauched activities.” Though she didn’t have any personal experience with such things, she knew of them. “I believe a man can generally indulge in whatever he wants to there, for a price.”

“And again, why do you want me to join such a club?”

This was the difficult part. How much did he know about his late wife? Kat didn’t want to crush any memories he had of her, though surely someone with Marcus’s skills had to have known about the woman cheating on him. “The Club was mentioned in your late wife’s journal.”

Marcus gritted his teeth. “You’ve read Elizabeth’s journal?”

She nodded. “I have. Why else would I have taken it but to discover the information inside?”

“Why else.” Marcus stalked over to the window overlooking the back gardens.

“It mentions the Chameleon.”

“Which is obviously why we both want it.” Marcus’s hand stilled on the window frame, his shoulders tense. “What did it say?”

“How much did you know of your wife’s activities?”

He scoffed as he raised the window frame a few inches, then turned to look at her. “If you’re trying to ask if I knew my late wife was unfaithful, then the answer is yes. She started having affairs a few months after we were married, when I was sent over to Spain, though I didn’t know it at the time. Elizabeth complained of being bored and lonely when I travelled, so she pleaded with me to allow her to accompany me on my future trips. Considering what I was doing was low-level spying for the government by attending various balls in Europe and discreetly obtaining information, I thought it wouldn’t hurt, and would assist in my cover story of traveling through Europe. But Elizabeth soon got bored with that, too, and seemed to think it would add far more enjoyment to take a lover in each city we visited.”

“You don’t strike me as a man who would condone such a thing.” The man standing before her was the epitome of a proud and confident man, one who wouldn’t cower to anything or anyone. Traits that Kat was starting to realize she found supremely attractive.

“By that stage, the spell she’d originally ensnared me with had well and truly worn off, and I could see Elizabeth for the vain and shallow creature she truly was.” He shrugged as he perched on the edge of the windowsill. “To be honest, her affairs meant she was occupied and left me alone to do my work, so they mattered little after the initial sense of betrayal. That is until they began to impact my work.”

Marcus stared into the flames of the hearth, lost in the past, Kat supposed. “They used her to get to you?” It’s what was evident in the journal, even if it hadn’t been obvious to the lady herself.

He swiveled his gaze back to her. “Yes. I had failed to consider that aspect of her affairs. Elizabeth’s vanity and her compulsion to be worshipped were traits easily manipulated and could be exploited by those who knew of the special assistance I provided for the government.”

“Which the Chameleon did.”

“Yes. I assume the man seduced Elizabeth to gain easy access to the apartments we were lodging in at the time, and break into my safe to steal the notes and dossiers I’d collated on the Russians, regarding the issues we were having with them and the Afghan border. Clearly, the assassin was content with the information he was able to steal and had no need for Elizabeth anymore. I found her dead in our bed, and every piece of information I’d collected was gone.”

“Her journal confirmed as much,” Kat said.

“Did it mention his name?”

She shook her head. “No. She only ever referred to her lover as her mysterious chameleon who had links to the Corinthian Club. Which is why I need your help.”

A rich laugh filled with what could only be described as incredulity left Marcus’s lips. “You’re serious? You expect me to help you after all you’ve done?”

“I haven’t done that much, really.” She lifted her chin a fraction higher in the air and stood her ground. “And I do.”

“Victor should have damn well spanked you when you were a child.” Marcus shook his head ruefully. “Perhaps that might have jolted some sense into you. Instead, he was far too indulgent with you, especially as you seem to think I’ll agree to whatever it is you want my help with.”

Kat screwed up her nose slightly. “I know you’re not happy with me at the moment.”

“How insightful.” He walked over to where she stood, almost like a panther stalking its prey in the jungle, before he stopped a foot in front of her. “What is it you need my help doing?”

Kat paused. Being so close to him had the oddest effect on her senses, almost as if he was befuddling her. She had to stop herself from reaching up around his head and pulling him down to her lips. Catching her breath and her previous train of thought, she said, “I would have thought it obvious. I need your help to catch the Chameleon. The Corinthian Club is the only club in London I don’t have a well-placed informant, and this is the best lead I’ve had so far regarding the Chameleon. We need to investigate it immediately. And considering I know you’ve been hunting the man for years, as have I, we need to work together. At least until we find him.”

“We do, do we?”

The man was being deliberately difficult. “Yes. If we can get into the manager’s office in the Club, then we should be able to obtain a list of their patrons. And if the Chameleon does frequent the Club as suggested in Elizabeth’s journal, then he would have to be a financially contributing member, so we should be able to narrow down a list of suspects if we obtain their membership list.”

Marcus swore and stalked over to the hearth, raking a hand through his hair. “The Chameleon is one of Europe’s most formidable assassins. Victor would wring my neck from his grave if I helped you get anywhere near the fiend.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He trained me since I was a child to do exactly that,” Kat replied, glad for the space now between them. She needed to regain her equilibrium if she was to have any chance of convincing him.

“He trained you to protect yourself, as your mother and father were unable to. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“You’re wrong,” Kat said. “And do not use Victor as an excuse either. I will find the Chameleon and have my vengeance, with or without your help. But he will be caught sooner if we work together. And after reading Elizabeth’s journal, I know that the Corinthian Club is a key to finding him.”

His eyes darkened. “You had no business reading Elizabeth’s journal.”

“I know, and normally I wouldn’t. But I had to see if it contained information about the Chameleon, which my informants suggested it might.” She’d been conflicted enough last night, though in the end her desire for vengeance won. “If it’s any consolation, I haven’t divulged the contents to anyone, nor will I. But I don’t regret reading it, as it has provided me with the first tangible clue about where the Chameleon may be found.”

Marcus’s hands were clenched by his sides, and Kat had the odd impulse of wanting to grab his hand in her own and soothe away the anger. She’d never felt the need to comfort a man before, but suddenly she wanted to comfort Marcus.

“You have no idea of the league you’re playing in, Kat.” He was using her first name as he said he would, and it sounded so familiar rolling off his tongue that she couldn’t imagine him calling her anything but that. “The Chameleon is deadly. No one knows the exact number of his kills, but it’s in the hundreds.”

“I’m fully aware of the man’s deadly abilities.” She’d studied her quarry’s assassinations and movements intimately, to the point of knowing them almost better than her own recent movements. “If we combine our resources and our skills, we’ll find the traitor.”

“Skills?” Marcus scoffed. “You got lucky last night with that knee. If I hadn’t been distracted with finding out you were a woman, I’d never have let my guard down and you wouldn’t have gotten the best of me.”

“Knowing I was fighting you was a distraction to me from the start, and the only reason I allowed you to maneuver me into that untenable position against the wall.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “And trust me, you haven’t seen the extent of my skills just yet.”

“You will get yourself killed chasing the Chameleon,” Marcus growled.

“I’m capable of protecting myself.”

“You can’t knee every man in the bollocks.”

Kat smiled at him. Clearly, he underestimated her abilities. Perhaps it was time to teach him a lesson in assumptions. “Did you notice the painting on the wall near the entry when we came in?”

Marcus stopped short at the change in conversation. “What about it?”

“How far would you say it is from where I am now standing?”

“Around fifty feet.” He shrugged. “Give or take.”

“And did you notice the small apple being held by the lady in the picture?”

“What the devil does this all—”

“Did you notice it?”

“Yes.”

“Could you aim a dagger and strike the apple from this distance?”

Marcus’s face screwed up in exasperation. “No, of course not. No one could.”

“Consider this your first lesson in the folly of making assumptions, Marcus Black, especially when it comes to me.” Kat reached into her skirt pocket, and before Marcus could even guess what she was about to do, she slid her dagger from the sheath sewn inside and launched it across the room. It landed directly in the apple’s center and Marcus swore.

“Do it again,” he said, bracing his legs apart, an expression of defiance in his eyes.

She shrugged, having spent hours upon hours every day for literally years perfecting her dagger skills. “Very well.” She reached down and pulled out her smaller dagger from the sheath strapped to her lower calf. “I’ll aim for the woman’s head this time.”

Marcus’s eyes snapped down to her lower leg, desire flaring in his expression.

Exposing any part of her body was scandalous, of course, but Kat did have trousers on underneath her dress, and she’d only pulled up the pant leg for a moment to expose her stocking-clad calf.

Lowering the skirt of her dress seemed to snap Marcus out of his daze and he blinked, his eyes finding hers again, a smoldering heat still blaring in them.

She broke eye contact for a moment as her gaze flicked to the target before her eyes returned to his. She threw her knife at the picture. Once again, it landed dead center, lodging in the picture of the woman’s head. “Satisfied?” Kat sashayed past him to the painting. “I wonder if Lord Darrow will notice the cuts in the canvas.”

She pulled both knives free from the painting and re-sheathed them before turning back to face Marcus. “I hope that illustrates to you I’m capable of handling myself. Though I can demonstrate further, if needed. I’m as good with a pistol as I am with a dagger.”

Marcus shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary. Clearly, you are capable with weapons.”

She smoothed down the material of her skirt before walking over to perch on the desk to the side of where he was standing. “Trust me, Westwood, this is no game for me. I know exactly what the Chameleon is capable of from firsthand experience. And I have the skills to protect myself.”

Dragging a hand through his hair once again, sure to cause his valet distress if he ever caught sight of his employer’s tussled locks, Marcus then sighed, a very long, very weary sigh. “And how do you propose we work together to find the Chameleon?” He walked over to the brandy bottle sitting on the side table and poured himself a glass.

A blossom of hope sprang up inside her. The stubborn man might finally be coming around. “I suggest we pool our resources and work together to find him. The first step being to get into the Corinthian Club.” She stood and approached him. Reaching past him, Kat picked up the brandy bottle, pouring herself a nip of the liquid in one of the other empty glasses. “He won’t escape England this time with both of us hunting him.”

He gazed down at her. There was the heat from earlier, but also a question in his eyes. “What do you intend to do when we find him?”

She smiled grimly. “Seek justice, of course.” Her form of justice—an eye for an eye. “Isn’t that what you also intend, my lord?”

“It is, my lady.” His eyes narrowed upon her. “Though I think our notions of what justice is may differ somewhat.”

Kat shrugged and lifted the glass to her lips. “Perhaps,” was all she would allow, before swallowing the contents. She coughed slightly as the rich fluid burned down her throat. “Oh, that is just horrible.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a semblance of a smile. “Darrow isn’t known for his taste in spirits.”

There was still a wariness about him, but he seemed much more receptive to her suggestion. “What do you say, my lord?” she asked. “Shall we partner up on this hunt?”

Reaching over, he plucked the glass from her hand. “If we are to be partners, you should start calling me Marcus again.” He put the glass down on the table before turning back to her.

There was such fierce determination in his eyes that she couldn’t help but feel as if he was a predator looking upon his next meal—her. Her pulse quickened in response. “So you agree, then?”

He stepped forward, until he was less than a foot from her. “’Tis probably the only way I can ensure your safety. I owe Victor that much.”

She scowled. “A moment ago, you conceded that I am capable with weapons.”

“I did. But being capable with weapons doesn’t necessarily mean you are safe in every situation.” His voice was a soft caress as he whispered against her ear. “For example, are you safe now, Kat?”

Her breath hitched in her throat at how intimate the use of her first name sounded on his lips when he was this close to her. How the man seemed to know exactly what to do to get under her skin was maddening.

Well, that wouldn’t do. It was time to take the situation into her own hands. Literally. She slid her hands up the front of his shirt and gently grabbed ahold of his lapels, before pulling him up against her. “Fairly safe, I believe.”

His lips hovered only an inch away from her own. “We have different ideas of what we consider safe.”

“Possibly,” Kat conceded. “But as my knee is now safely positioned between your legs once again, and ready to strike, I would say yes, I am indeed safe. Though you might not be.”

He blinked for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed.

When he put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, Kat let go of the material of his shirt and lowered her knee, but Marcus made no move to step backward and away from her. “I seem to have a terrible habit of forgetting to protect my most vulnerable parts from your wrath, my dear.” He looked at her cryptically for a moment. “Something I shall have to ensure I guard against in the future.”

“Perhaps then, Marcus, you shouldn’t try to intimidate me. If that is what you were attempting to do.”

“Intimidate is not the word I would use… I was actually thinking perhaps I need to live up to my newfound infamy.”

“And how would you do that?” Her voice was but a breathless whisper as he lowered his head once again closer to her own, his lush lips fully in her focus.

“If we’re entering into an agreement together, we should seal the deal with a kiss,” he murmured. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Sealing the deal with a kiss is how my friend Olivia ended up marrying the Bastard of Baker Street,” she said, annoyed her voice sounded slightly breathless. “I’ve no intention of following the same path.”

“Oh, don’t worry, my lady. Neither do I,” Marcus all but purred. “I will never marry again. You’re safe from me in that regard. Unless, of course, you’re scared of a kiss?”

“I’m scared of no man’s kiss.”

“Then show me.”

The deep timber of his voice sent a shiver through her body and all she could do was nod. What harm was there in a kiss? It might satisfy her curiosity and put the unaccountable sensations she was experiencing in his presence to rest once and for all. “Very well.”

She raised her head and pressed her lips softly against his. Almost immediately, a heat began to curl in her belly from the touch, his lips scorching in their intensity. She moaned as he nudged open her mouth with his, and his tongue flicked against hers. Mirroring the movement, she did the same to him and was rewarded with his deep groan as they began to kiss each other with an unrestrained passion she didn’t think was possible for her.

Instinctively, she pressed herself closer to him, reveling at the sensations of pleasure coursing through her from his very touch. He was strong and so masculine it made her feel delicate and feminine, which she rarely ever did.

His hands circled around her waist, before sliding lower and cupping her buttocks, pulling her in, tighter against him. Kat nearly gasped when the hardness of his manhood pressed into her lower belly. It was wicked. It was wanton. It was addictive, and she wanted more.

She wound her hands up and around his neck and kissed him back with unrepentant fervor, pressing her breasts more snugly against the broadness of his thick chest. Never had she tasted such sublime wonder as was Marcus.

A throat being cleared from behind them had Kat wrenching away from Marcus and spinning around to face the threat. It was Cantfield and Etta. How mortifying. And Kat never felt mortified by anything, though she’d never been kissed so thoroughly before either, or caught in the act.

“We do hate to interrupt,” Cantfield said, unable to fully suppress the small grin twisting his lips. “But Lady Birmingham is mentioning to all and sundry that she saw the two of you sneaking off in here together.”

“It’s all anyone is talking about…” Etta cringed while she pointed out the fact. “And, well, combined with the flyer today… Kat, they’re all whispering that you’re in here being compromised by Lord Westwood…”

“Not far from the truth, it would seem.” Cantfield’s grin grew. He was clearly enjoying the situation.

“Don’t push me, Lucas,” Marcus growled from behind her. “Damn it. This is less than ideal and entirely because of that flyer, you do realize that, don’t you?”

Kat turned to face him and saw the lines of exasperation on his face as he glared at her. Passion replaced by frustration.

“At least it will put you in good stead for membership with the Corinthian Club,” she said. One had to look at the positives and focus on what was truly important in the scheme of things. “Speaking of which, we will need to arrange for you to have a meeting with the manager, Mr. Dartmoore, tomorrow. The sooner we can get in there, the better.”

“We?” Marcus’s expression turned to incredulity. “How do you intend to get into a men’s establishment?”

“Not through the front door, obviously.” She placed her hands on her hips and returned his glare. “Once you’re taken into Dartmoore’s office, I’ll arrange for a large-scale distraction which will force Dartmoore to leave the room, while you remain inside. Then I’ll slip into the building through the kitchens, undetected, and meet you in the office.”

“Even with a distraction, someone is bound to notice a lady skulking through the hallways of the place,” Marcus replied.

“Not if I’m dressed as one of the female entertainers that work there.”

Marcus closed his eyes tightly. “Absolutely not,” he ground out with a clenched jaw, his voice brooking no arguments. “You’re not dressing as a trollop and that is final, end of story.”

“You have no say in how I dress.”

“If you want my help in this endeavor, then yes, I do.” His eyes narrowed upon her. “No trollop outfits, are we clear? And you can arrange the distraction, but I will search his office on my own. I’m not risking your pretty little neck for something I can do perfectly well on my own. Understood?”

“Perfectly.” If he thought she was going to blindly follow his orders, he really didn’t know her at all.

“I mean it, Kat. No dressing as a lady entertainer, or our partnership, if that’s what we can even call it, will be over before it has even begun. I’m not having you place yourself in danger.”

“No trollop outfits, I promise.” And she would honor her promise. She’d just dress in some other costume to blend in, because if the man thought she was going to sit out from searching Dartmoore’s office, he was in for a surprise. “What time will you attend the club tomorrow?” She wouldn’t have thought it possible that the man could appear even more suspicious, but he did. “I need to know when to set up the diversion.”

“I’ll go late in the evening, probably around eleven,” he gruffly replied, his eyes watching her like a hawk.

“Good. I’ll organize the diversion for a quarter past. Make sure you’re in his office by then, discussing your membership.” Kat pulled out the journal from one of the concealed pockets in her skirt and handed it to him. She’d intended on giving it back to him tonight, and hopefully doing so now would distract him from thinking overly about her easy acquiescence surrounding the club.

Marcus took the small leather-bound book and regarded it for a moment. His lip curled into a slight snarl. “This damn journal has eluded me for years.” He shook his head. “Perhaps Elizabeth’s folly in documenting her affairs will lead to her killer being apprehended, and my brother’s name being restored.” He placed it inside the pocket of his jacket. “And then the last laugh will be on the Chameleon, won’t it?”

“Once I obtain my vengeance against him for all of the lives he’s taken, it will,” Kat declared.

“This is no game, Kat. We’re dealing with a ruthless assassin who, as far as I know, has a one hundred percent success rate. He’s not a person to be playing with.”

“This is no game for me, I assure you. I’ll have my vengeance and not you or anyone else will stop me. And just as you have, I’m expecting the Chameleon to underestimate exactly what I am capable of. In fact, I’m counting on it. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” She walked over to Etta, who had been standing with the marquis, appearing somewhat uncomfortable watching Kat and Marcus bicker. “Etta and I will start circulating in the ballroom to try to minimize any gossip this little sojourn in the library has cost us. I suggest you and Cantfield find Darrow’s billiards room and play a game or two, and if anyone asks, that is what we shall say you and he have been doing for the past half hour. I’ll see you tomorrow, my lord.”

“No surprises, Kat.”

Kat was never one to do well with heeding warnings. “If you’re expecting me to do something unexpected, then it won’t really be a surprise at all when I do it, will it?” Unable to help herself, she winked at him, to which he appeared to be at an unaccountable loss for words.

Good. The man was far too confident. It was time he realized who he was dealing with. She linked her arm through Etta’s and strolled out of the room, Cantfield’s laughter booming behind them.

“If you wanted to bait Lord Westwood,” Etta murmured as they walked down the hallway, the sounds of the orchestra getting louder with each step, “then mission successful.”

“Bait him? I wasn’t trying to bait him. I was giving him advanced notice of what to expect with me.” It was the least she could do, given the man’s previously well-ordered existence. For a brief moment, she felt sorry for him. But only for a brief moment.

“He has no idea who he’s really dealing with, does he?” Etta bit her bottom lip.

“None at all.” How she was looking forward to the moment when he discovered she’d paid no attention to his edict whatsoever. The man was going to have his finely ordered world shaken and Kat was going to be there to witness it.