Seducing Anne (4 page)

“That may be, but this is a difficult task that’s been set before you. We need assurances our agent can handle what’s set before him.” The proctor could have easily passed for an executioner in Anne’s time period—his eyes were like black coals of death.

“I can handle it,” Guy said, his jaw tense.

“That’s very good. I’ll make a note of it in my report.” The proctor inhaled, then kept going. “Are you familiar with all thirty-three of the laws of ethics we use?”

“Yes, I have each memorized, and I never break them.” Guy placed his hands on the arms of the chair.

Kara gave him a knowing look because he was always breaking the rules—well, the minor ones at least.

“That remains a subject of deep debate,” the proctor responded. “In any case, I am required to share a few of the rules with you before your departure.” The proctor cleared his throat.

Guy scowled at him and then threw a nasty look at Kara.

The proctor seemed oblivious to anything but what he was saying and doing. “You will not reveal your true identity or the purpose of your mission to anybody during the entirety of your stay with the exception of Sir Nicholas Carew, who is also known as SHROAG point agent fifteen. If you break this rule there shall be consequences, and you may be retained when you return, incarcerated and fined. Your employment will be terminated. While you remain under contract, your life is not your own.” The proctor glanced at Guy briefly and then h
e turned to Kara. “Do you, Kara Howser, SHROAG agent nine, approve of Guy Moore being sent on this mission, and do you find him of sound mind and able-bodied to complete said mission?”

“Yes, I do. He’s the right agent for the job,” Kara said.

The proctor bowed. “The rules are set. Agent seven, you are cleared to proceed. Best of luck to you, and may you land the package swiftly so you may return as soon as possible.” He left the room without another word.

As soon as Guy was alone with Kara, she strapped his hands to the seat.

Now the fun would really start.

This was his least favorite method—being immobilized.

That was
his
job—tie them down, seduce them with his words and wicked tongue, and fuck them until they were ripe with his kid.

“You’re sure the DNA matches?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re not amateurs, here. We know what we’re doing. You share similar DNA to the king—enough it won’t be noticeable, and Elizabeth will live a long and happy life as monarch.”

He looked at her and swallowed. “You still haven’t explained to me how the hell she’s going to wind up with red hair, though. Anne’s got dark hair and so do I, and there’s no recessive for red in my family anywhere. I checked.”

“So did we, and we’re modifying your genes right before you go. Red number four,” she said, holding up a vial.

She popped it into the gun and injected it at his neck as he hissed out a “Fucking bitch! Hate you!”

She laughed. “Love you, too, Guy. Ever the charmer,” she said, feigning a British accent.

“You suck with your dialect. No wonder they never send you anywhere. You’re stuck here with assigning boring American agents to do jobs you can’t do. Too bad, too, since they’re always in need of lesbian agents for the more difficult cases.”

She shrugged. “And I’ll be crying tonight when I’m using a running toilet and a hot shower, while you’re stuck smelling like livestock,” she said, still butchering that classic accent.

He wrinkled his nose. It was tingling and itching.

“Time for silence.” She pulled a blindfold out of the bag.

“You really are a sour old bitch,” he grumbled as she slipped it over his eyes.

Something tickled his right hand, and he jumped.

She was already making this worse than it needed to be.

“I’ll be sending you a bag of your father’s nuts very soon since I can’t knock your mom up—might as well remove him from the picture.”

“Nice try,” she whispered at his ear, then
sliiiiice
!

Something lacerated his ear, and he yelped.

“Shit! Go easy! Not the face!” Didn’t she realize Anne would see this?

“Women like a man that’s wounded. It pulls at their heartstrings.” She chuckled, and it was thick-sounding like it was trapped at the back of her throat.

In the next breath, things really exploded all around him, and white-hot, searing pain smacked into his chest and electricity ran up his toes and through his spine.

“Tend to your wounds as soon as you get there so you don’t get an infection. Get hydrated and start on your mission as soon as your equilibrium has returned. Carew has money for you and a place for you to stay. Don’t mind his kids though—John said they were out of control and really bratty,” she told him.

“Kids? Wait—who said I was good with being around kids? I don’t—”

“We know—you only like creating them, not raising them and actually being near them.” She snorted. “Have a good time. Don’t forget to floss, and send me a post card made of deer hide.”

“In case you missed it earlier—fuck. And oh yeah—you.” He grimaced when the restraints on his wrists tightened.

“This is gonna hurt. Bye, Moore. See you in six months.”

Something landed on his head, and there was this intense, teeth-rattling electric charge that ripped through his skull. It was followed by something cold and metallic being shoved down his throat, and then the double wands on each side of his neck activated his chip, telling his body what time it was going to and where.

“Ohhhhh gawwwwd!” His back arched away from the chair. “Aaaaahhhhh—no, no, nooooo! Stop! Make it st—”

His body jerked and thrashed, and he was flung to the floor, face first.

Craaaaack!

Everything was a blinding white—too bright to open his eyes, but even with his eyelids shut, he could still see what amounted to a white flame, burning into his pupils.

“Mmmnnn-hhhhmmm-hhh,” he whimpered, unable to speak any longer.

He was incapacitated, stuck between one world and another.

Ziiiiiifffff!

He landed with a thud, and his head spun the moment the white light was gone.

There was grass under him—that much was certain—but other than that, he had no idea what kind of surroundings he was in.

When he opened his eyes a crack, things were blurry, but there was definitely a tree next to him, and a massive one at that. There were large branches spread out above him and a few birds chirping and hopping along.

The leaves were still—no breeze, and it was a humid day.

He placed his hand on his already sweat-dampened chest.

A ragged sigh groaned its way out of his throbbing ribs.

He touched his right ear—yep, still bleeding.

“Bitch,” he bit out.

His body went lax as he lay there naked, and his ears popped, then rang.

Who knew how far away he was from any kind of residence or establishment?

A bar would be great. Always plenty of drunk people to steal clothes and a horse from. Plus, he could use some alcohol to clean off his wound on his ear.

He closed his eyes again and ran through his mental checklist of things to do.

Get ear treated.

Find Carew.

Get money from him, lodging and avoid his children.

He rubbed his ears, avoiding the slice, and went back to thinking about his immediate tasks.

Figure out a way to approach Anne, form a bond and simultaneously become a favored, trusted friend of the king.

Damn.

It sounded so easy back home.

Now that he was here, breathing in the stink of the nearby river, and his ears had stopped ringing, it all sounded so daunting.

“Shoulda retired, you asshole,” he told himself.

He heaved himself up to sitting.

“Well, that was quite the trip,” a man said from nearby.

Guy startled and then glanced around.

A man—fitting Carew’s description and the drawings he’d seen of him—was leaning against a nearby tree, smirking.

His dark, deep-set eyes assessed Guy, and his prominent, strong chin, not fully hidden by his whiskers, tensed. He smiled, and his high cheek bones tightened while his long, straight, thin nose tipped up as he sighed and glanced up at the sky.

Everything about this man seemed contradictory. He was average height and build, but there was an aura about him that said, “Don’t fuck with me!” He was obviously powerful, not only physically, but mentally as well—all hidden behind a slightly built frame. One of those scrappy types that would shock others, no doubt.

“Carew?” Guy choked out.

“Nick—please. That is what my true friends call me, and we mustn’t stand on ceremony here when we should be friends. I figure we’re to be instant family of a sort, so skip the formalities if you will.” He dipped his head and continued staring.

“You gonna help me up, Nick—or just stand there gawking?” Guy lost his accent for a moment, then he remembered that his new “friend” here could report him for doing that.

“No—I’d sooner stroke a whore’s tit than help you up. You’re exposed.” Nick pushed off the tree. “Come up to the house after you put some clothes on.” He pointed at a parcel on the ground and then left.

“Fucking coward,” Guy muttered and hauled himself up onto his weak legs.

He stumbled a few times as he approached the package.

His fingers shook as he tore at it to get to the contents inside.

There were brown breeches, hose, a simple shirt and boots.

He groaned. Never liked those damned hose.

So uncomfortable and hot.

At least they weren’t wearing codpieces yet. Those were worse.

He found his way inside Nick’s home, half-dressed and grumbling about this damned infernal humidity. Muggy May. Fucking 1532, year of the mongrel—the year that slippery bastard of a dog, King Henry, turned his country upside down to have Anne as his wife.

“She better at least have nice tits,” he said to himself as he pushed the door open and clomped his way inside.

“Who the hell is this?” a feminine voice asked, filled with mirth.

“Cousin Anne, this is a friend of mine—here to visit on holiday—Lord Guy Moore.” Nick motioned at him.

Guy swallowed hard when he realized how inappropriate he was in this instant with his hose slung over his right shoulder, his shirt gaping open and his breeches sagging. And why for the love of God did Nicholas just use his real name? He swallowed and tried to keep an aloof gaze on Anne.

“Did you swim ashore?” Anne asked, scrutinizing him and looking greatly amused. “Good Lord, I thought the Thames too brown to house fish or men anymore.” She chuckled and pointed at him. “But, you, sir, do me a great honor, showing your face in this state. I daresay I look a might bit more presentable now.” She ruffled her soiled skirt. “After falling off my horse, I thought to hide my disheveled form, but you have changed my mind.” She turned to Nick. “Yes, my lord, I will supp with you tonight, and I will not bother to change my attire.”

Guy blinked, and his mind went blank. This was not how he’d envisioned his grand scheme of wooing this woman. Not like this.

“I apologize for the state I am in, but you need not ever worry about your appearance, my lady, for you are a radiant, rare jewel. But then I am certain you are already aware of your great impact on a man’s very breath and pulse.” Guy bowed.

Nick smirked at him. “This man is a betting sort, and though he is charming as any at court, I am afraid I must warn you, Mistress Anne—he will while away the night, speaking of nothing but roses and sunshine until you can see nothing but him, but then he disappears when you need him most.”

Guy squared his shoulders and kicked his boots off. “At least I do not lend boots to my friends that are two sizes too big.”

Nick laughed and motioned for him to take a seat. “Yes, yes, a calloused trick, but nonetheless, a most worthwhile diversion as I waited for you to stop idling the day away in the hunt when you scarcely had energy to do anything more than sit.”

“You were hunting?” Anne followed after Guy and sat at the end of the love seat, closer than he would’ve thought she’d be comfortable with or allow.

Nick was a consummate liar and an intriguing fan of her flame. It was obvious Anne was spirited and liked a good fight, so Nick, it seemed, was pitting against him. In an odd way it was already working. Anne seemed entirely comfortable with Guy’s presence.

“Yes, and I received my reward, as you can see.” Guy pointed at his bloodied up ear.

“Ah, a scratch. It will heal.” She waved her hand at it like it was nothing.

He smiled at her. “I see you have chosen to ride a palfrey of little use.” Guy motioned to her skirts. “Are you not lucky you are not bleeding as well from such a careless choice?”

“Yes, it is a new creature, but such a stirring one, I simply had to acquire it. I can handle a little blood. This animal is worth it. And Heaven knows, Harry could find no reason to refuse me.” She smiled, and the right edge of her lips pulled harder than the left as if she was holding back on one side of her mind.