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Chapter Four

A Squire

The maid's uniforms came in a few different styles, depending on the job you were assigned to and I was relieved not to be on laundry duty because that uniform had short sleeves. Fortunately, I was assigned to general housekeeping and the long sleeves hid the bloodstained bandage on my forearm.

"Charlotte!"

I'd grown up in a school for paid killers, and yet the sound of Mistress Rosana's voice barking my name was enough to make me jump right out of my well-tied shoes.

"Yes, Mistress!"

"The master is in his lounge and he asked that you take him his breakfast and make up the room."

"Master Nicolo?" There were other ‘Masters'.

Mistress Rosana whacked my leg with her cane. "Don't ask stupid questions, girl."

Yes, there were other masters, but when someone said ‘the master', there was only ever one man they meant.

" He requested her ?" one of the girls repeated.

"He asked for her direct?" another continued.

I scuttled off to the kitchen, worry burning a hole in the front of my brain. It could be a coincidence that Nicolo had selected me for this particular job—Nicolo liked a different girl to bring him breakfast each day (and I had yet to do it). Or it could have been owing to our encounter in the garden. The latter would actually be good news; if he was, in fact, following up on that little rush of chemistry between us. Or the only other option, and one I was decidedly less enthusiastic about, was that somehow he'd managed to figure out it was me who knocked him out cold the night before.

I tried to stay in a positive frame of mind as I carried the tray from the kitchens through the Prince's Tower.

Master Nicolo barely looked up as I entered, curtseyed and said a polite, "Good morning, Master."

He said nothing. Which wasn't surprising and it was his prerogative—I was just a servant, after all—but it was also a bit insulting when he'd spent long minutes eyeballing my goodies in the garden.

"On the table," he indicated, and I brought the tray across.

Again, he barely looked up as I lowered the tray in front of him, but as soon as I placed it on the table and turned to leave, he moved like a striking snake, grabbing me by the arm, his fingers closing tightly on the exact spot where I'd been injured the previous night. The shock of the pain was so unexpected, I was unable to suppress a little cry, which I tried to pretend was one of surprise.

"Something wrong?" he asked me with suspicion in his gaze.

I'd hoped it was just bad luck that he'd grabbed me there, but as I met his hard, pitiless gaze, I knew he knew. His grip tightened.

"I recognized those eyes," he said. "Eyes the same shape as a cat's and the color of the sky."

Which might have been flattering in other circumstances.

"Master, please! You're hurting me!" It was important I stay in character as the weak, timid and intimidated little maid. Although how I was going to square that routine with the fact that I'd cold-cocked him in the face the previous evening (the bruise was already showing, alongside the broken skin) was something I'd have to address on the hoof. Maybe he'd go easy on me since I'd pointedly refrained from breaking his nose.

Ignoring my whimpering (which was very convincing, I thought), Nicolo picked the knife off the tray. It was a wicked little thing with a serrated blade.

"Do you know how many people have tried to kill me in the last year, girl?"

"I have… I have heard the answer is five," I answered, widening my eyes purposely as I added a quake to my voice. I glanced down at my arm where he continued to squeeze me without remorse. "Master, please, it hurts very much."

"It's actually eight people who have attempted to murder me," Nicolo went on, shaking his head. "Not all of them become fodder for gossip." He took a breath and then continued when I made no motion to comment. "Do you know what happened to those men?"

"I don't know, Master…"

Nicolo cut me off by deftly upending the knife and driving it hard into the table top where it stuck, quivering back and forth. My heart rode all the way up into my throat.

"A man like me does not take chances. But you…" He pulled the knife free again and ran it up my arm, making me shiver. And this time the shivers weren't contrived. "You saved my life."

"I don't… I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Yes, you do."

"Sir… I'm just… a maid," I started but he cut me off with a sardonic laugh.

"You are most assuredly not just a maid."

"I believe you are… you have me confused with someone else, sir."

"You knocked me out, which I'm not happy about, but it would have given you time to kill me had you wanted to." I couldn't help it as I looked up to the large scab above his eyebrow from the brass knuckles. That wasn't even the worst of his injury—that prize was awarded to the horrible purple and blue bruise forming around his eye. He followed the path of my gaze and looked down at me.

"I'm giving you the chance to explain yourself," he finished. He brought the knife to my collar bone and outlined it, drawing the knife closer and closer to my heart.

"Explain… myself?" He pushed the blade down until it caught the hem of my blouse as his eyes narrowed. "There's nothing to explain, sir."

"Really?"

"Really."

He brought the blade down hard and it ripped right through my blouse as I yelped and tried to pull away but he held me tight.

"There is plenty to explain," he insisted, glaring at me. "And I don't appreciate being lied to."

My blouse now lay in pieces and the swells of my breasts were clearly visible. He brought the tip of the blade to the skin just between them and pressed. As the tip of the blade broke through my skin, the pain was acute. I could feel the blood dampening the material of my blouse and corset and the scalding sting was making it hard to think straight.

"First things first; how does a girl of—what? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Twenty, sir."

"How does a girl of twenty know how to fight like that?" He rubbed his chin. "The punch I will grant you—brass knuckles are a bit of a cheat though. Yet, I imagine a girl as pretty as you has had some practice of fending off men. But you handled that sword like you'd been born with one in your hand." He chuckled then and it was the scariest sound I'd ever heard. "But, clearly, as a maidservant, you are hardly one to know the stealth of swordsplay."

"My father taught me," I gasped, trying to give the impression that the information was being forced out of me. And with his hold on the blade, it basically was.

"Explain."

"My father wanted me to be able to defend myself." I inhaled deeply and looked around myself even though I knew we were the only two people here. The scared, little rabbit routine was all for show, of course. "Please don't tell anyone… I… I need this position and the wage."

By religious law, women weren't allowed to handle weapons larger than a knife, nor were they supposed to know how to fight. The Guild ignored this law because the Great God wasn't that happy about paid murder either.

"You were trained by your father then?" suggested Nicolo.

I nodded, screwing my face up in pain to sell the lie—though it was getting easier and easier to act as if I was in agony, especially with my bodice ripped to the extent that my breasts were nearly bared to him. Nevermind the red stain of blood that was spreading through the fabric. How I was to explain that to Mistress Rosana I didn't know.

"Let's assume I believe you for the moment." Nicolo relaxed his grip a little, but not much. "I don't care what priests or the Great God thinks about women training in the art of combat. Frankly I've always found that rule ridiculous. I've known women as ruthless as a wounded wolf—women who would have made fine warriors if only they'd been allowed to pick up a blade. But… I still want to know why you were in the attic last night, dressed for all intents and purposes like an assassin."

He squeezed the blade harder again and I whimpered in pathetic submission as he trailed the knife up from my breast, to my neck, then to my throat, the point trailing back and forth as though he were trying to figure out the best way to carve a roast.

"I snuck out of the maids' dormitory, master," I explained. "I dressed in black so's not to get caught."

"And the mask?"

"I… I did not want to be recognized if I was seen, sir."

"Mistress Rosana runs a tight ship," acknowledged Nicolo as he cocked his head to the side and regarded me with an expression I couldn't place. All at once, I realized for all my training, all my excel in my studies, I was underprepared for this post. The Guild should have sent in a woman with experience under her belt, her maidenhead be damned.

"Not so tight that girls don't escape," I argued and he nodded as if to say I had a point. "Plenty of girls take similar precautions to mine when they leave the confines of our dormitory," I continued.

"Why did you sneak out?"

I lowered my eyes and realized this was the make-or-break moment—the moment when I'd either convince him of my innocence or my guilt. "To meet someone."

To my delight, I saw a flicker of annoyance cross Nicolo's face. And that flicker told me exactly what I wanted to know—he was jealous at the possibility of there being another man in my life. And a jealous man is an emotional man. And an emotional man is a man I could use to my advantage.

" Who were you going out to meet?" he demanded. "A man?"

I breathed in deeply. "More like a boy than a man." On the word ‘man', I looked up into his eyes with yearning and modulated my voice to express barely concealed desire. I wanted him to believe I desired him, that I was a silly fool of a girl with a crush on the most intimidating of men. That I was as harmless as a kitten.

I was rewarded with the sight of a smile twitching the corners of Nicolo's mouth. From the expression in his eyes, I could read the fact that he was proud to be a man, and knew this so-called ‘boy' was no competition.

"Alright." Again, his grip loosened though he didn't release me.

"I apologize, Master. Please don't tell Mistress Rosana and I will swear I'll never leave my dormitory again." I took another deep breath and even forced tears to blossom in my eyes. "I do need this wage, sir. Very much, indeed."

He stared at me for a long time before speaking again. "Why did you help me, Charlotte?" I was surprised he remembered my name and allowed that surprise to carry through my eyes. "There can't be many servants in this place who would have done what you did for me." He continued to study me narrowly and I could tell he wasn't convinced with my song and dance. "So… answer me this… Why did you?"

Relax, Charlotte , I told myself. Breathe . This is an opportunity .

"I… I don't know," I murmured, not knowing which way to look then finally looking up at him.

"Try again."

I inhaled deeply and with purpose. "I suppose I thought if you died then… then that day in the garden could never be repeated."

It was hard to be sure, but that one seemed to land too. Of course, it also could have gone the other direction and disproved my earnestness. I wasn't entirely sure.

Nicolo didn't move, still holding my arm.

"I find myself temporarily between squires," he said then and the change of subject was so jarring, I felt myself frowning in earnest. "The last one died due to unfortunate circumstances."

"Unfortunate circumstances?" I repeated though I still fought to understand why he was telling me this.

He nodded. "He tried to kill me and I threw him off this very tower."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

He stepped closer to me. I hadn't really appreciated how tall he was until this moment when I found I had to crane my neck in order to meet his eyes. He had a good head and a half on me. I felt tiny in his shadow.

"I think you might make an admirable replacement."

My jaw dropped—and this time I wasn't acting. I genuinely couldn't believe what I was hearing. "An admirable replacement? Me? Master?"

He nodded. "Your talents are… wasted as a maid."

"But I don't…"

He interrupted me, his voice stern and his jaw tight. "What I need in a squire is loyalty, which you seem to have—of a kind—and someone to fight beside me. Yes," he continued as he inspected me and then nodded. "I do believe you would make an excellent squire."

"Why?" I asked, clearly befuddled, baffled and shocked to my core.

"Because everyone will underestimate you. They'll think I've chosen you for more… carnal reasons." And the smile that accompanied the word ‘carnal' was the epitome of wolfish. If I hadn't feared Nicolo before, I did now.

And, what was more, I didn't want to be his squire. I wasn't sure why that was, owing to the fact that it would give me access to him day and night. But somehow… it seemed he had other reasons for deciding upon this course of action—other reasons he wasn't discussing with me.

"But, Master, I don't mean to argue with you, but…"

"Speak your mind."

I nodded and inhaled deeply as I continued to look up at him and tried not to get taken under by those beautiful violet eyes. "There must be men who would make much better squires? Men who are entirely more capable than I am? Why not one of them?"

"I think I will have more fun with you," he said and gave me that devil's smile once again.

I just stood there, slightly dazed.

***

"A squire can't dress like a maid," Nicolo explained as he led me through the Great Castle. Actually, it was more apropos to say he walked and I jogged in order to keep up with his long, athletic strides.

After the exchange we'd had when he'd nearly run me through with his knife, he'd allowed me to return to the dormitory to change with the understanding that once dressed, I was to immediately return to him. Apparently, we had urgent business that required tending to.

I did as he requested and once I found myself knocking on his bedroom door once more, he left the room post-haste, motioning for me to follow. Thus, we left the castle but remained in what I thought of as the ‘Castle District', the most ‘high end' area of the Gath, and entered a clothing shop.

"Gauthier?" Nicolo called as we entered.

A pixie-ish man in his sixties looked up from measuring a customer and hurried over as he registered who had just walked into his store.

"Master Nicolo, how may I help you?"

"I have a job for you."

Seeing Nicolo, Gauthier's only other customer left, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

"This," Nicolo presented me, "is my new squire."

The tailor, Gauthier, tried to keep the surprise out of his face.

"She needs clothing suitable to this role," Nicolo continued. "But I assume you have nothing ready-made that would suit."

"I am a gentleman's clothier," Gauthier stammered nervously.

"Of course," Nicolo nodded. "And squires are invariably male, which is why I have brought Charlotte here, even though she is very obviously not a male."

"You would like me to make her… femininity less obvious?" suggested Gauthier, perhaps a little hopefully. But when his gaze landed on my bust, he began worrying his lower lip.

"No," answered Nicolo, firmly. "That would be a crime against the fine job nature has done on her figure." I couldn't help but warm a bit on the inside after that pronouncement. "I want you to create clothing for her that is practical and acceptable and instantly recognizable as a squire's costume, but which also compliments her more feminine assets. I will be spending a great deal of time with this lady and I would prefer something pleasing to look at."

How happy I was to be ‘ something pleasing to look at ' didn't really matter, I was getting closer to Nicolo and that was what counted. Or, at least, that was when I kept telling myself. Truthfully, my nervousness over this most recent turn of events was fully present and accounted for.

Gauthier looked at me with polite terror. "It will take time to create the finished product, Master. I have nothing in stock at present that will not end up being..." He took a petrified glance at my breasts which were, even now, too obvious not to notice, "… tight."

"Of course," nodded Nicolo, smoothly. "But I am certain you have clothes in stock that would be of the exact type I'm looking for, so let's try some of those out on Charlotte."

Gauthier nodded as if his head was about to fall off, then scurried off, turning back to add. "They won't fit the young lady well, Master. They will be somewhat…"

"Tight in some places and loose in others," Nicolo nodded as he offered me a smile. "Yes, I gathered."

"Here and there," Gauthier clarified.

"Indeed," Nicolo mused. His eyes ran over my body, head to toe and back again, lingering in certain areas. "Here and there."

He flopped down into a chair.

My entire life had been spent in uniforms, either of the Guild or as a maid. I'd had one dress that qualified as casual-wear (which had fit me better when I was sixteen) and my blacks—that was it. It was an experience, therefore, to be given a suit of clothes by an expert tailor, shown into a curtained booth, and instructed to change.

The first getup was that of a pageboy which was, as advertised, somewhat tight here and there (especially when it came to my bust and ass), but Nicolo didn't seem to mind, based on the smile that spread across his face when he saw me squeezed into the costume.

"Let me see something else."

At first, I was a little uncomfortable being paraded around in various outfits that didn't fit me at all well. As to my current getup, the buttons strained on a shirt that was struggling to contain my breasts. After a few more uniform changes and the hungry look in Nicolo's eyes, I actually began to enjoy the whole process. It was akin to the time when I bathed in front of him. Similarly, I found this exercise allowed me to exert a certain amount of power over the impertinent man. And so, when I came out to showcase my latest attire, I began to strike subtly provocative poses, making sure that each new set of clothes showed me at my best advantage. As ever, Nicolo wasn't the most demonstrative observer, but I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying the show.

Daring still further, when I returned to the booth I ‘accidentally' left the curtain askew, so he could see in as I changed into the next costume. I believed I was starting to better understand my mark—he was a warm-blooded male just as any other and I could use my feminine sexuality to lure him from the cave in which he usually kept himself. I just had to know the limit because there certainly was one with Nicolo. He would play but only so far and only so long. What was painfully obvious was that he wanted, no needed, to remain in charge at all times.

As to the gap in the curtain, Nicolo certainly wasn't getting a ‘good' view, probably no more than a glimpse of flesh through it, but such was the point. I wanted to be discrete about my seduction—offering him bits and pieces without serving up the entire cake.

The knowledge that he was straining to see those bits and pieces, that I was making him work for it, excited me. When I walked back out, the look in his eyes was enough to tell me he appreciated what he saw.

It was all valuable, stoking the frisson between us. The more he desired me, the more he trusted me and the more likely I was to get him alone. But I couldn't give in—I knew that much. One of my first lessons had been on the art of keeping a man tethered—allow him inside me and that tether would loosen and eventually fall away. As would his interest.

"That will do for now."

Nicolo had selected a costume I could wear for the present; a hasty marriage between a page boy's outfit and what looked like a magician's assistant. It pinched and rubbed in places but it was certainly more to my liking than the maid's uniform.

"Have something tailored and ready by tomorrow morning."

Gauthier raised a hand. "That's awfully soon, Master. We have the lady's measurements but…"

Nicolo shot a steely look at the tailor and Gauthier blanched.

"But, of course, it will be done.

I wondered how much Nicolo had done to justify the fear in which people held him, or if that fear was simply owing to his reputation.

Somewhere in the castle, I heard the clock bell chime midday.

"Ah," Nicolo looked up. "Time to see if Prince Balduin is awake."

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