[b:51c67c4f5c]1856 LONDON, ENGLAND[/b:51c67c4f5c]

The coach swayed to a stop and Lady Strathsborough gathered up her skirts in preparation for departure from the coach as the door opened and a gloved hand extend itself to help her alit from the conveyance. Grasping it for steadiness, as she descended, she set foot upon the carriage step and from there upon the paved terrace in anticipation of the coming ball. Eyes fastened upon the evening's glowing portal ahead, with the strains of music issuing from it, she lightened her hold on those covered fingers in indication of dismissal.

However, the clasp only tightened and then it lead her forward. She stopped in confusion, glancing sideways at the footman to see why he'd not released her and was met with a heart stopping sight. She turned full around before she was even aware of having made the move. Ingrained habits had her dipping in an elegant curtsey that took her nearly to the stones beneath her feet and then just as gracefully back to full stance again in a single fluid movement.

She found herself gazing into wintery blue eyes that dazzled and made her think of icicles that depended from her roof top on a cold, mid-winters day. The black, shoulder length hair framed a face of alabaster whte, inset with ruby lips, that smiled their appreciation of her litheness, despite her 53 years of age. [i:51c67c4f5c]"My Lord Toisol, Prince of Korce, I believe."[/i:51c67c4f5c] she said, breathlessly. The current rage of arsenic face powder and rouged mouths on all the [i:51c67c4f5c]ton[/i:51c67c4f5c] only added to this Albanian male's already inhumanly handsome features.

His smile only widened, to show perfect teeth, at her unerring judgement of his personage and rank. He carried her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss just above the border of her own hide gloves. [i:51c67c4f5c]"My Lady, you surpass all the gossip I've heard about you." "Oh!?"[/i:51c67c4f5c] she raised an eyebrow in query and lifted the corners of her mouth in a flirtatious grin. He merely nipped the exposed flesh and sent a shiver of rare delight skittering up her spine. [i:51c67c4f5c]"Indeed, you do."[/i:51c67c4f5c] He lead her towards the the night's festivities.

Cyrilynn glided alongside him with an inner smugness at this unexpected coup. All her preparations and plans set in motion had netted her the entre' she'd needed to this most elusive of fish [b:51c67c4f5c]long[/b:51c67c4f5c] before she needed to spring her own trap. Now that she'd snared the Prince she needed to keep his interest alive. The completion of her commission depended on it. She would enjoy the time in his regard as an extra bonus to the job, up until the time in which she ended his life.

[i:35cb1fb4fd][b:35cb1fb4fd]ooc:[/b:35cb1fb4fd] Sublime writing, I absolutely love this first part!... And the french title is of a delightful taste . Keep writing, can't wait to read more :) [/i:35cb1fb4fd]

He watched her from across the ballroom. She was aware of the touch of his gaze like a chill winter wind that swirled across the vast chamber and swept her frame. The crystal snowflakes of his regard pierced her skin like a myriad tiny knives, exciting her in ways she'd never experienced before. Her flesh tingled and tightened as if renewed with vitality. Her senses were all trained on him, cognizant of where he was in the glittering throng about them, even though she'd yet to lift her eyes and meet the weight of his interest.

Her small court had drawn around them, almost as soon as they'd entered the large stately mansion, and it hadn't taken long before political duties had drawn him reluctantly from her side. She remained amongst her coterie as he prowled the room, talking here, listening there, letting his eyes rest on her occassionally. He returned only to dance with her when a waltz was in the offing, then returned her to her circle of admirers, before being, again, propelled into bureaucratic niceties. He claimed the privilege of escorting her in to dinner.

The whispers that ran the gamut of Lady Rothdim's soiree' followed them into the pre-dawn hours as they left the party and headed home to their respective residences. He'd settled his interest on her and proceded to claim her before half the [i:6607fad0a2]ton[/i:6607fad0a2], adding spice to the game. Lady Cyrilynn would have bet half her fortune that the sporting men were wagering she'd be his mistress before the week was out. And that suited her purposes to the ground.

He'd whispered his desire across the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine, asking to ride with her in the park the next day, as he'd handed her into her carriage. She paused on the steps and threw him a provacative glance before uttering a tantalizing [i:6607fad0a2]"Perhaps."[/i:6607fad0a2] Then she swept on into the interior of the coach, settling to the plush squabs. He accorded her a full bow from the waist, before straightening and giving the driver the signal to leave. She watched him recede into the night like a cold balefire

He courted her assiduously for nearly a month. They went riding in the earliest hours of the cool and crisp autumn mornings, when the mists would encompass the world, wrapping them in a cocoon of dawn shadows. He sent her small gifts of fur lined gloves and boots, exquisitely made necklaces and hair pins. He preempted her company at balls, routs and dinner parties. He was witty, intelligence, elegent and, above all, he set himself to be utterly agreeable with her. He did what no other victim had ever managed before. He aroused and intriged her.

She dodged and side-stepped each and every attempt he made to see her alone, keeping them both in the public eye, always at arm's length. She flirted and teased, hinted and intimated but she refused to come up to scratch until she was ready for the final stage. He merely smiled wolfishly and continued the chase. Anticipation of his next move began to occupy her every waking moment.

The end to the matter took them both by surprise and unnerved Cyrilynn greatly. Indulging in another of their early morning rides, they'd ridden hell-bent-for-leather, both of them reveling in the rush of wind in the face. She challenged him to a race and, setting quirt to her mare, took off like a shot. He let her take the lead as they raced over the downs. Catching up gradually, they paced neck and neck, then, barely leaning from the saddle, he plucked her from her mount, pulling her across the horn into the cradle of his arms. Laughing, she looked up into his eyes and was caught by something there.

The world spun by in a dizzy whirl until it finally slowed and stopped, both of them unaware that their horses had come to a halt. He slowly lowered his head and punished her impudence with a ravaging kiss that inadvertantly split her lip and drew blood. With a savage growl, he bit into the throbbing wound and suckled it. Her whimper pleased him and he drew back, but not before a spear of lightning had struck the very essence of her woman's core. [i:a7cd384c72]"Will you now have dinner with me?"[/i:a7cd384c72] His expression literally dared her to deny him his wish. [i:a7cd384c72]"Yes."[/i:a7cd384c72] She replied dazedly and then was shocked to realize that the time had come to end this charade. Before it was too late for her.

The lady's maid bustled around the mannequin, draping a chemise over the body, tying the petticoats on to the small waist and covering it all with an overdress before hurrying to the bed to pick up the gown there. She carefully pressed out any wrinkles that had gathered from lying on the coverlet and approached the form. [i:97704d4670]"Not that one."[/i:97704d4670] The statue spoke distantly. [i:97704d4670]I want the slate gray one with the silver panel embroidered in emerald green rosettes. That should go well enough with the Prince's baubles."[/i:97704d4670]

The servant said nothing, merely bobbed a curtsey and did her mistress's biding. Again the room was silent as the handmaiden resumed her efforts to dress the lady for her evening rendevouz. She was used to the eerie stillness that Lady Strathsborough could use from time to time and knew better than to utter a single word in her presence during those bouts. She had been carefully trained. A factor which boded well for her continued employment.

Cyrilynn, for all her outward immobility, was a cauldron of seething conflicts that did nothing to ease her mind regarding her forthcoming dinner engagement. As a matter of course, it threatened to upset her carefully laid plans and she could [b:97704d4670]not[/b:97704d4670] allow that to happen. To fail would result in two things. One, her reputation as the Scorpion, a reknowned assassin, would be blackened and, Two, her present employers would be furious!

One thing taught to her during those first years at the House of the Shadow's Hand, was that failed missions often ended in failed existences, regardless of the reason for incompletion. Granted that she'd done a couple of minor assignments for her current clients, with excellent results, but it wouldn't preserve the breath in her body were she to fall short of her goal. It had been "impressed" upon her how important the demise of this foreigner was to them and she was to use any means available to ensure the he would not be returning to the land of his birth.

[i:97704d4670]"Bring me the silver kid slippers as well as my gloves."[/i:97704d4670] The irritated snap of orders was directed mostly at herself, yet her personal servant moved with wary alacrity once the slate gray gown was buttoned and tied to the older woman's slim form. The exquisitely dressed female moved with gliding steps to the vanity and seated herself carefully, rooting in her jewelry container for the gifted emeralds with matching earbobs.

Affixing them, Cyrilynn stared moodily at her own reflection in the mirror as the maid approached with the demanded items, handing them to her and then beginning the process of styling the auburn tresses that spilled to the edge of the squared neckline in the back.. Lifting the still thick mass to pile it artfully at the crown and then fasten it there, the skillful hairdresser placed a fringe of long curls that entice the hand to play as they lay languidly against the ivoried column of her neck.

A budding ire climbed the trellis of her internal logic and gave her something to latch onto to strengthen the shaky ground she was treading. How dare he make her forget all her training? Cause her to forsake the career she'd built over the years with time and patience? Was he a prize worth the sacrifice? The resounding denial in her mind was enough to harden her resolve and she stood from her robing and coifing with her inner defenses well in place.

Descending to the foyer, she called for the cloak the Prince had also bestowed upon her, early on in his courtship, and hurried into her waiting carriage. The entire trip to the Prince's abode was but a quick flash of passing houses and scenery but it gave her the time needed to carefully reconstruct the masque of a titled older woman of wealth and leisure. A noblewoman with nothing more on her mind than and evening of pleasure and passion.

Thus well fortified she slipped from the interior of her conveyance, armored in the warmth of a fur cloak and her well-honed disguise. Reaching beneath the cape, she fingered the garrote that lay coiled in it's secret nest amongst the folds of her silken finery. As she stroked along it's thin cold length, it gave her added encouragement to bring the night's work to its inevitable conclusion.

Until the moment when she stepped into the Prince's castle and was rattled anew, by this lord's transcendental allure, as he personally awaited her there in the foyer. In that moment, she was made aware that all her preparations were for naught and all she stood to achieve would be as a sigh on the wind if she could not deliver the fatal strike.

The Prince took her hand and raised her from the curtsey she had immediately accorded him, then turned her around in a pirouette so that he could view her fully. She allowed a faint smile as she came to a halt in front of him and he answered with an open gleam of perfect teeth. [i:ba788922e1]"I see that my ability to clothe a woman in naught but the rarest of attire has not deserted me."[/i:ba788922e1] Cyrilynn was sure that he wasn't even talking about any part of her ensemble but the jewelry. She swept him another dip fraught with jangled nerves.

[i:ba788922e1]"Master, tea is served in the salon."[/i:ba788922e1] An unobtrusive servant broke the rising tension that began pervading the entrance. Her host reached out and swept the capote from her shoulders, revealing creamy skin, and gave it an unseen, negligent toss in the direction of the domestic, who deftly fielded it and bore it away. Then, placing the hand he retained firmly upon his arm, he escorted her into the indicated chamber.

Leading her to a seat on the couch, next to the serving cart, he left her to do the honors of pouring, perferring to watch her from an advantage point, standing at the mantle of the fireplace that had, up until he'd entered, dominated the room. He waved away the first cup she proffered and, instead, was given a goblet of red wine by another of the the quietly attentive staff who then left the room to the two of them.

An awkward silence stretched for several minutes as Cyrilynn inwardly struggled to recapture her lost calm by sipping at her tea. When no conversation was immediately forthcoming she maintained her outward coolness by standing and taking a turn about the room, looking at various things, forcing him the take the lead in this assignation. If he wanted it, that is. She could feel his icy regard and sternly suppressed any shivers that strained to manifest themselves.

[i:ba788922e1]"I understand you've been widowed these many years, Lady Strathsborough. Why have you never remarried?"[/i:ba788922e1] His voice broke over her like warm treacle and she turned to face him. The question, out of the clear blue, took her by surprise and caused a welter of emotions to batter themselves within her breast, none of which she allowed expression as she casually paced back to take a seat upon the divan, placed her cup upon the tea cart, then folded her hands and looked at him steadily.

This man certainly wasted no time in idle pleasantries but went straight for what he desired. Lady Cyrilynn took a steadying breath and prepared to give him the story she'd polished well, over the years.. [i:ba788922e1]"At the time, Gerard was abroad for his own amusement in China and I was a diplomat's daughter. We met at a small soiree' given at an embassy there. One thing lead to another and we married shortly thereafter. I only had him for two years."[/i:ba788922e1] She lowered her lashes with a tremble as if to signify sorrow at the memory.

[i:ba788922e1]"He died in a hunting accident and, because I was a woman and alone in a strange country, I came home to England to claim the property my husband had left to me, as well as a small fortune."[/i:ba788922e1] She peeked up at him from under her downcast gaze and found him studying her avidly. She shivered at the eyes that seemed to want to pull the truth from her soul and hoped he would take it as a reaction to being left to fend for herself in an alien country.

[i:ba788922e1]"But I was alone, grieving and not yet ready to marry again. English society is much stricter than I was accustomed to, for the company abroad is more.....lax in what a woman can and cannot do. Here I was pressured to remarry or....find a protector of some sort. I found it in the personage of my former spouse's uncle, Lord Clarence, the current holder of the Strathsborough title.

I had been staying with him until the inheritance could be cleared and secured for me. I needed someone to steer me through the nobility and he was more than happy to oblige. We found we suit very well; I run his household and he handles my investments. It's a combination that works for both of us and I've never found a reason to change that."[/i:ba788922e1]

Leaving his stance at the fireside, Prince Toisol stalked toward her, his scrutiny never leaving her countenance, until he stood directly before her. [i:ba788922e1]"And what of now, my lady? Do you still have no desire to change that?[/i:ba788922e1] His voice a bare whisper, she looked into those arctic orbs and was completely mesmerized with thoughts of a future with him. She blinked and the spell broke. [i:ba788922e1]"Perhaps. With the right person, your highness."[/i:ba788922e1] Given the chaos her whole body and mind had just been thrown into, again, it was surprising that she could speak so calmly. And that the answer rang so true!

He took up a position next to her side on the settee and, once more, lifted her hand in his, raising the covered fingers to his lips and bestowing a stinging kiss on them. All the while, staring keenly at her. Swallowing hard, Cyrilynn pulled her hand from his grasp and shakily picked up her tea cup again. At the same time, her skin raised in an icy chill against the raw buffeting of his regard as his smile blossomed. She was back on quicksand ground.