The Unicorn's Tail (The Artifact Hunters) Read online

  It took four hours before his men returned with the village doctor. They found him holed up with one of Hunter's men, stitching a gash in a shoulder. Hunter wouldn't let him leave, and a stand-off resulted. Bastard laughed and thought their man would be dead and cold by the time they returned. Except he didn't know about their secret surgeon. Best to keep that under their hats, not because she was damn good, but because he didn't want her attracting the wrong sort of interest.

  Day after day Hunter watched the house and they waited for him to make the first move. That's all they needed, one idiotic move and they would end him. No way he wanted the kitten caught up in that. He would keep her safe. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. No one would ever harm a woman under his protection, never again.

  He had a simple bet with Loki to kiss the girl, but that wasn't enough anymore. Not by a long shot. He wanted to see the princess find her feet. She still wore that tiara, but now it was wedged on her head in an 'I mean business' kind of way, instead of balancing precariously on top of her coiffured hair.

  He shook his head at the photograph on his nightstand. "You're an interfering woman, Angel." He walked to the window and gazed out over the lawn.

  The damn unicorn bracelet started it all. He gave it to her on impulse, as a way to break the ice and get close enough to win the bet. He should have known Angel wouldn't have any of that. Years ago, when he wooed Angelique, he bought the trinket at a fair and presented it to her. She smacked him in the side of his head and told him not to be so daft. No such things as unicorns. The bracelet became a joke between them, the gift that started their affair.

  When it fell from its spot on his dresser and landed at his feet he knew it was a sign from above. Use the bracelet to start something new. Amy, the polar opposite of Angel, hung on his tale, and he swore given her dreamy gaze that she saw unicorns by the lake. When she made a decision he saw her fingers seek it out, like a touchstone.

  He watched as the princess shed her layers, seeking a new beginning.

  He would help her find a new beginning, one for both of them.

  Chapter Nine

  17th January

  Duties around the estate kept them apart for the next few days. Like a small boy with a crush, Jackson left her little treasures next to her plate that always brought a smile to her lips. A perfectly formed shell from the beach. A smooth stone with a fossilised leaf inside. A tiny mouse skull that gleamed like ivory.

  She checked on her patient regularly and breathed a sigh of relief that they kept infection at bay. Soon Davie was up on his feet and complaining there wouldn't be a scar to show the girls. He healed quickly, and in a few more days she would remove his stitches.

  Finally they had a day when both of them ventured to the cottage. Amy wiped her hands on a cloth and stood back to admire the gleaming kitchen. She worked all morning organising cupboards and stacking things in the neat pantry. The small cottage revelled in the attention and radiated warmth. Sadness washed over her; this was their last day here, together. Her work was completed, and they only needed to give everything a once-over as Jackson moved in the new furniture.

  A smile lit her face. "So much pleasure to be found in a well-ordered kitchen."

  Jackson gave a deep laugh. "You and me have a different idea about finding pleasure in the kitchen."

  A frown flitted between her dark brows. "Isn't there satisfaction in using your hands for a job well done?"

  He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "Not disagreeing with you there, princess. It's all in how you use your hands."

  She looked down at her hands, still not following the conversation. "You're mocking me because I find pleasure here." A shiver ran over her body at that word. "In your company."

  "I would never mock you." His gaze fixed on her. "With just one hand I could give you more pleasure in this kitchen than you've ever experienced in your entire life."

  She snorted. Men. What could he do with one hand? That wouldn't even make a very good foot rub, you needed two hands for a divine foot massage.

  "Do you trust me, princess?" His hazel eyes darkened to a rich spring forest, and he took a step closer. The atmosphere between them changed to something charged and alive.

  Trust? Such a fragile thing. Like a baby bird, if you grasped at it too tightly you would fracture it, split it apart. But like the bird the only way for it to grow was to give it room to spread its wings, to set it free.

  "Yes," she whispered. "I trust you."

  He stalked her, his gaze a swirling green and grey fire. She sucked in a breath and stepped backward until she hit the pine table. He placed his hands to either side of her hips and pressed against her.

  "Do you trust me to never hurt you? To give you what you need, even if you don't know what it is?" He searched her face.

  Heat flowed along her limbs; her body cried out in response to the promise radiating from him. She swallowed and wet her lips. "Yes."

  One hand clasped the back of her neck and pulled her forward in a languid kiss. She surrendered to him. Now she had buried old Amy she was eager to pursue the ache her body demanded be satisfied. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her in place as his tongue explored and played with hers. He pushed her backward with his torso until she dropped her hands behind her on the table top to keep her balance.

  "That's my princess," he murmured against her skin as the pose bowed her back and offered up her body. His lips burned a path down her neck and over the rise of her breasts. He stroked one through the thick fabric of her dress, and she gave a cry. She arched her back higher to drive her flesh into his palm. His thumb over her nipple sent pulses of fire straight to her core.

  His other hand reached down and pulled up her skirt. His fingers feathered against her thigh at the top of her stocking. He caressed her skin through the thin fabric as he explored higher and higher until he found the slit in her drawers. He stroked a finger over her flesh, and she gasped at the shock that ran through her body.

  Molten lava consumed her limbs, sweeping from her core outward as he stroked over her with firm passes. Her breath came in gasps as he continued his plunder of her mouth. The dual assault on her senses undid her. Her mind reeled in a kaleidoscope of colour and pleasure.

  He changed the angle of his hand, so the heel of his palm rubbed her tight nub, and she shattered. He swallowed her cry as waves pulsed through her limbs. The deep kiss turned to light butterfly ones as he stilled his hand while her body convulsed with aftershocks. After a long moment he removed his hand and held it up.

  "One hand," he said, helping her to sit upright again. His tongue licked his wet fingers. "Imagine what I can do with two."

  *

  She tasted better than any confection the fancy French chef ever served up. He wanted to suck his fingers clean while she gave him that heavy lidded gaze. He wanted her so bad his sack felt like he had cannon balls in his trousers. It was one thing to give her pleasure on the table, but he didn't want her first time to be here. He skated close to the edge of his control, and it would get rough and hard. Maybe the second time he could have her bent over the table, once they christened the new bed he'd just shifted in upstairs.

  His balls ached so hard he was going to have to sit his arse in the snow to relieve some of the pressure.

  She was his, she belonged in the cottage with him. He just had to figure out what words to use to convey that to her. Every time he tried to say something lovey-dovey, the words turned to ash in his throat. Loki would know, with his silver tongue. He groaned at the thought of tongue; his wanted to know her better and his dick was straining to know hers.

  Chapter Ten

  They didn't speak all the way back to the house, although to be fair, Amy didn't think she was capable of complete sentences. Her brain still swirled and marvelled at the explosion of new sensation and could only dribble out monosyllabic sounds.

  Once back at the main house, Jack stroked her cheek as though on the brink of saying something. The
n he stalked off, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Once rational thought returned she didn't know what to think. She only knew one thing with certainty; the henchman had found a place in her heart and she never even realised until today.

  That evening she lay in bed and replayed the last few weeks over and over. Jack always stood beside her, protective but encouraging and quietly challenging. Heat travelled through her torso as she remembered what he did in the kitchen. The ache returned, and even though she tried to mimic his stroke her body knew the difference. She cried in frustration as the need remained, release eluding her. Damn man started it, now he had to fix it.

  She saw him licking her desire from his fingers. One hand, imagine what I can do with two. She thrust harder with her hand and cried out, finding a small release at last.

  18th January

  Amy rose and dressed early the next morning. Cara was right, she didn't need just any man in her life but she wanted a very particular one – Jackson. Having made up her mind, she didn't want to waste any more time. Voices in the main entrance drew her attention. On descending the stairs she found Jackson and a number of crates.

  "Morning, princess, sleep well?" he asked on seeing her.

  A flush crept over her skin. Would he know she sought relief from her own hand after what he did?

  "After a fashion," she replied. She stood on tiptoe and raised her face for his kiss, her body eager to receive his touch.

  He buried a hand in her hair and pulled her close, claiming her mouth for a hot kiss that wrought a moan from her throat.

  "You old dog!"

  Amy gave a start and pulled free to find Loki standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

  "Why didn't you say you won the bet?" He gave Amy a wink, walked over and thumped Jackson in the shoulder. "What did you do, hypnotise her?"

  She frowned and looked between the men. "What bet?"

  "Shut it, Loki," Jackson growled, his hand reached for Amy but she darted away, waiting for answers.

  The pirate laughed. "We made a bet when you arrived, you would be the first one to steal a kiss from those delicate pink lips."

  "A bet?" She could only repeat the words while her brain muttered no, no, no.

  Jackson balled his hand into a fist. "It's not like that, princess."

  Loki frowned. "Yes it was. A wager for a kiss against a chicken suit."

  Amy shook her head, looking from one man to the other. "This was all a game? The attention was just to win a bet?" She thought a decent and loving man resided inside Jack, one who cared for her. She'd dropped her façade and let him in, let him touch her. How could he? Her heart froze, then shattered like a dropped block of ice.

  Yet again she chose the wrong man.

  "No," Jackson said. "Listen to me, Amy." He took a step in her direction.

  Loki halted his progress. "Oh come on old man, you won. You knew it was just a wager between men." He smiled at Amy. "It was a simple game, my lovely, to liven up the winter days."

  Her eyes shimmered with tears. "For you perhaps, but did you ever think what it meant to me, to have two men showing me attention?" How could they use her like this for fun? She gave Jack all she had to offer - her trust and her body.

  "Amy," Jackson whispered, his hand reached for her but she darted away. "Please—"

  "No harm done," Loki said.

  "So says the boy who has just pulled the wings off a fly. Let me tell you, sir, the fly does not share your sentiment." She ran for the door.

  She paused at the bottom of the steps, wondering in which direction to take flight. She turned to the woods and the light dusting of snow swirled and formed itself into the unicorn. He gestured with his head to the path, his horn pointing to the hidden cottage.

  "No," she cried. "I can't go there. It's not my home. I can never go there. It was all just a cruel trick." Tears rolled down her face as she ripped at the bracelet until it came loose and threw it on the ground.

  The unicorn tossed his head, his long mane disintegrated into individual snowflakes and danced upward and the rest of his body soon followed.

  She spun and spied the armadillo on the front lawn. She jumped into the strange sled, pulled one lever like Loki showed her and pushed another. It lurched forward, gathering speed on the straight carriageway. She wrapped her hands around the small wheel. The world shimmered and dissolved in her vision as the tears kept on falling and she prayed she didn't steer the sled into a tree.

  *

  "Princess, wait," Jackson tried to call her back. He stared after her. "You bloody idiot." He glared at Loki.

  He shrugged and spread his hands. "It was just a wager. You won, grab the nearest chicken and let's get this done."

  Jackson took a step closer. "You don't get it, do you?"

  "Get what?"

  "I fuckin' love her, dumb nuts."

  "Really?" Loki's eyes widened. "Well how the hell was I supposed to know? You could have dropped me a line so I didn't ruin it." He slapped the other man on the back. "Well done, who knew you had it in you?"

  Jackson stared at his hand and then at the empty hallway. "Oh fuck it." He slammed his fist into the pirate's smiling face and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes roll up in to the back of his head before he fell backward. He didn't stay to see him hit the ground. He had a princess to rescue.

  He grabbed his overcoat and an extra and ran out the door. A flash in the snow caught his eye and he bent down to retrieve the bracelet. "Oh fuck." He shoved it into his pocket. "Where did you go?" He cast around and spotted the wavering tracks in the snow. "The armadillo."

  Stefan came running from the end of the drive, still limping on his bound ankle. "Mr Jackson, its Miss Amy, she's gone off in the armadillo," he gasped. His little body bent double from his run. "I tried to follow, but she's fair moving, sir."

  Jackson ruffled his hair. "Good lad. When that useless pirate comes round tell him to follow us in the Hellcat. I'm taking Tor to go rescue her."

  His mouth dropped open. "You're taking Tor out?"

  "Gotta catch her, don't we?" He gave the lad a wink and strode round the side of the house to the enormous barn.

  He slid the door open and started yelling orders. "Fire up Tor."

  Jackson approached the behemoth they called Tor – train off rails. Men ran with buckets of coal to feed the appetite of the huge vehicle. The scaled up version of the armadillo had a massive engine centrally located in the squat body. From the front jutted a short canon barrel. The wheels inside their tracks were the height of little Stefan. He climbed up and into the metal-plated cabin.

  A pale Davie swung up behind him, a rifle on his back and another in his hands.

  "You're not supposed to be up and about yet," Jackson said as he took the offered rifle and slid it over his back.

  "I wouldn't be up at all if it weren't for Miss Amy. I'd be six feet under, so 'm coming and don't try and stop me."

  "Good lad." Jackson checked the dials and gauges on Tor's control panel.

  "Hunters men were spotted out early this morning; she's in danger."

  "Let's stop wasting time then." He looked over his shoulder and gave a thumbs up to the crew. Steam blew from the stack running up the side of the cabin. Jackson released the brake and manoeuvred Tor out into the insipid sunlight. They set off down the main drive, following the wavering path left by the armadillo and Amy.

  "We've used the sled all morning," Davie shouted in his ear over the roar of the motor. "She won't get too far."

  Sure enough, only a mile from the gate to the Lyons' estate they found the stationary armadillo, but no sign of Amy. Jumping down the men searched the snow. Jackson found her tracks first and the place where she knelt. Then he found the boot treads that surrounded her and the horse hooves galloping away.

  "Fuck. Hunter's got her." Rage boiled in his body. The one slip they all waited for, and it sucked up Amy. She'd better be unharmed or this time there wouldn't be enough men to hold him back. The snow would turn red
before night fell.

  *

  The sled coughed, spluttered, and with a great plume of black smoke stopped dead and refused to move. Amy wiped away her tears and climbed out. She gave it a kick, which earned her a sore toe and another burp of smoke, but no movement.

  "Blasted thing." She trudged for a few strides before the enormity of her situation loomed before her and she dropped to her knees. "Where can I go?" she sobbed.

  Lowestoft would never be her home. She was ruined and could never return to London, even if she wanted to resume a shallow and vacuous life. No, she wasn't that person any longer. She had a mind and skills. She looked at her hands — they could stitch flesh better than a trained physician. Ever since the maid said she could be a doctor the idea had taken root in her mind and grew like rampant ivy.

  "Edinburgh," she said to the falling snow. "I shall petition the medical school to be accepted as a student. At least I can do something practical with my life, even if I shall spend it alone."

  "What's she muttering about?" a voice behind her said.

  "Dunno," another answered. "Just grab her."

  She looked around to find booted feet and dark trousers. Before her gaze could move upward a sack dropped over her head and someone grabbed her arms. She tried to scream and wrestle herself free, impossible from her spot on the ground with sodden skirts. A knee in the middle of her back forced her face-first into the snow. She gagged on the burlap thrust into her open mouth. Dampness soaked through her torso from her prone position on the wet earth. The man on her back weighed on her lungs and made her suck each breath. Rope burned her hands as someone pulled it tight around her wrists. Then she was lifted like a bag of potatoes and thrown over a saddle.

  She remembered Jack's family. Oh god, they're going to kill me. She renewed her struggles, fighting for her life.

  Something hard hit her head and the world around her dissolved into black.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amy's throat rasped and her head hurt. Her eyelids fluttered opened to gaze at dirty floorboards running vertically through her vision. "Water," she whispered. "Could I have a drink of water, please?"