England's Assassin Read Online Free

and if he were truthful, he knew why he had volunteered.
    “Monsieur Damont?”
    Daniel nodded, his attention drawn toward the approaching captain of the ship that would carry them to Honfleur. The sturdy man trudged down the gangplank, his large hand curled around a whalebone pipe as he removed it from between lips obscured by a dense gray beard.
    “Oui.”
    “Welcome to Les Helios . I believe you have secured passage for three?” the captain asked, scouring the docks for his wayward travelers.
    “Your remaining guests will be joining us shortly.”
    “Bon.” The captain of the ship snapped his thick fingers and a boy of no more the fifteen appeared at his side. “Please, allow me to stow your luggage in your cabin?”
    The boy made a move toward the trunks and Daniel stilled his progression with a slight lifting of his right hand. “I prefer to await my companions.”
    “As you wish, Monsieur Damont.” The captain inclined his head then turned his mind to the harried activity on deck, leaving Daniel alone with his thoughts.
    Curious thoughts of this strange British assassin, Scorpion.
    It was quite ingenious of the man to lodge in a women’s boarding house. The establishment would never be searched, never be watched by the French army. The only danger lay in being seen by one of the female lodgers and that could be explained away with one seductive smile, one wink from a healthy young buck visiting his beautiful mistress in the dead of the night.
    Daniel shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the vision of Nicole Beauvoire forming in his mind. He crossed arms over his chest and his eyes narrowed as he considered her small burgundy trunk to the right of his brown Hessian boot. It was not so much the chipped paint or dented hinges that peaked his interest, but rather the size of the trunk itself.
    In all of Daniel’s twenty seven years, he had never met a woman with a wardrobe so small. It had taken him no more than ten minutes to pack the girl’s earthy possessions and place them in the shoddy trunk. She had no jewelry, no hair combs, not even a miniature portrait of her family to take back to England with her.
    He shook his head in disgust, wondering what sort of man would provide his lover so few comforts. The woman was obviously educated, beautiful…
    Stunning, really .
    His mind returned to the moment she had opened the door in nothing more than a tattered bath sheet. Those unusual violet eyes widening with surprise, her black hair falling around her shoulders as if she had just made love.
    The thought made his mouth go dry and Daniel realized that it was the first time he had been enticed by a woman in well over a year.
    He felt the familiar burn of envy for men with a woman to welcome them home. A woman to greet them wearing nothing more than a damp bath towel that clung to every exquisite curve of her luxurious body.
    Men like Scorpion, men like… Glenbroke.
    Censuring himself, Daniel closed his eyes and filled his murky mind with thoughts of seducing the tantalizing girl. She would respond he knew. He had seen the spark of attraction in her lovely eyes, had felt the pull of the hunt coursing through his veins.
    However, that would hardly endear him to Scorpion, the crown’s most effectual assassin. An assassin, it would appear, unable to satisfy his beautiful paramour. Daniel chuckled at the irony and tried to put the alluring Mademoiselle Beauvoire out of his lecherous mind whilst he waited for her deadly lover to arrive.
    ***
    Nicole took one last look at the unmistakable figure of Daniel Damont before slipping from the shadows of the noisy dockside tavern, Le Grotto.
    She had followed him from her apartment and then on to his lodging, but not once had her escort veered from their arrangements. There were no French soldiers, no ruffians waiting to carry Scorpion off the famed Parisian prison, Conciergerie. He had, in fact, done precisely what he told her he would do and for some incomprehensible