He brushed a hand over a cool green bottle, checking to make sure the stopper was secure before handing it to her. "In my field, it is sometimes easier to … remove someone … over time than do it quickly. In this room, I craft poisons and distill them into forms I need to accomplish my missions. I brought you here because there might come a time in the near future where you'll need knowledge of such things. Even if it's only a basic knowledge, it may save your life. The Black Dahlia has a particular fondness for them."
She passed the bottle back to him, her chin lifting a fraction. "What do I need to know?"
His admiration for her only grew.
There was something special about her. Something that set her apart from the missish girls whose sole purpose in life was to secure a husband. Charlotte could have any man she wanted. Not only because of her dowry and beauty, but because of who she was beneath that appealing outer shell. And yet, several seasons after her debut, she remained unmarried. What was she looking for?
She placed the green bottle back on the shelf and studied the others. He stepped forward, handing her an amber bottle. "The first thing you have to know about poison is that each is different. They kill at different rates, cause different symptoms, and have different deliveries. Different antidotes. You could easily kill yourself by ingesting the incorrect cure."
She examined the powder inside. "What's in here?"
"Mandrake. It's not the fastest nor the most lethal poison, but it has its uses. The poison is extracted from the root of the plant. Don't ever touch it with your bare hands."
She set the bottle back on the shelf, unconsciously dusting her hands off.
His lips twitched as he handed her a purple bottle. "Cyanide. Much more lethal. Just a pinch of this mixed in food or drink will terminate a person within a few minutes."
"Heavens," she breathed.
"More than a pinch, and let's just say there's no possibility of taking the antidote in time." He pointed to a lighter purple vial. "All my poisons and their antidotes are labeled in similarly colored receptacles."
"Must come in handy."
"More than you know," he muttered. He couldn't count the number of times he limped into this room, delirious from one poison or another, only to know the cure by the color of its vial.
"Belladonna, also known as deadly nightshade." He pointed to a black bottle. "Hemlock, aconite, digitalis." He pointed them out. "All fairly common poisons." He scanned the bottles. "And arsenic, the king of poisons. This has been around for centuries. It's commonly thought of as a lady's poison now, and just a few grains, like cyanide, will kill a man."
He took a few minutes to list the symptoms of each. Her brows furrowed as she tried to take in the information. "I won't remember all that."
"I'll write it down for you. It's important that you remember the symptoms of each and the cure. It might save your life in the future."
She shifted uneasily. "You think they'll poison me? I would hate to die from any of those wretched symptoms."
He wanted to protect her from the ugliness of it all, but he couldn't. She needed to know the truth, to be warned about what could happen. "I think it's possible they might try. You're a threat to them. Believe me when I tell you that they will kill you any way they can. Poison is attractive to them as you might die at the table, with them present, and no one would witness their hand."
She gulped and nodded. "I'll be prepared."
"Yes, you will." The need to keep her safe, to destroy anyone who would hurt her, almost suffocated him. He hated that she was so helpless, defenseless. He would change that as much as he could. "Follow me."
He led her out of the room and down more darkened hallways. "Here." He lifted a hatch at the top of a small set of stairs. Dirt mixed with sunlight as it fell in the corridor. "You first." He took her hand to assist her through the hole.
"Where are we?"
He climbed out beside her onto the recently trimmed lawn. Thick bushes shielded them from view. "About a quarter mile from the house."
"Interesting." She eyed the hole again as he concealed it. "Any more exits from the tunnels?"
"A few." When her eyes lit up, he chuckled. "If there's time, I'll show them to you. You don't want to wander in the tunnels alone. It's dangerous, and I wouldn't want you to get lost."
"All right," she agreed reasonably.
"Excellent. Now, as to your request to learn to shoot a gun. While that would be a worthwhile skill for you to learn, it's not the most important." Her lips pursed. "A gunshot can cause significant damage, but you only get one shot, and under pressure, it isn't always easy to make it count."
"If we're not out here to shoot, then what are we doing?"
"I'm going to teach you to fight."
She eyed him warily. He didn't blame her. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"It is. Although you will most certainly be dealing with someone larger than you, there are techniques I can show you where your size won't matter. With these skills, it might give you enough time to get away or call for help. They could save your life."
He waited patiently while she chewed her lip, but it wasn't until she nodded that his body relaxed, and he realized how tense he'd been for her answer.
"Good." He nodded in praise. "First, if possible, you want to focus on four areas to deliver blows. Nose, stomach, privates, and feet." He pointed to each area on his body as he said them.
She flushed furiously. "I couldn't … "
He bit back a smile. "You can and you will. That zone is a man's most vulnerable and, when struck, causes significant pain and could immobilize him. If you have an opportunity to strike, do it."
He performed the proper way to hit each area for maximum impact. "With the palm of your hand, quickly strike the nose," he said, demonstrating the move and pushing her to practice the skill in the air. "Good. Faster, now. Perfect."
Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on another few jabs. "What next?"
"For the gut, an elbow will do the trick, just make sure it's hard and fast, same as the nose. Feet are easy. Lift your foot and smash the heel of your boot down as hard as you can."
"And, um … " She blushed. "The other?"
"Anything you can manage. Foot, elbow, fist. Anything will cause damage, but your best bet is your foot. If you can kick, the assailant's legs will guide your foot for maximum damage."
His hand jerked out, gripping her wrist before he yanked her up back against him. His arms steeled around her waist, pulling her back. "If an attacker has you like this, what will you do?"
She didn't warn him before her elbow connected with his stomach. Air whooshed out of his lungs, his hold loosening enough to land her heel onto his boot. She twisted away out of his reach.
He was bent over, but grinning. "Excellent."
She worried her lip again in a way that distracted him from lingering aches. "Are you all right? I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't," he assured her. "Much."
He grabbed her again, this time caging her to his chest, his eyes locking onto hers.
Her eyes widened at the body contact, and he hissed at the way her body wiggled against his. "And now? If you were held like this?" he asked, but his words trailed off into a caress.
Her body stilled next to his, the struggle gone, but her breath raced.
"Charlotte." His breath caught in his lungs, making speech impossible. Having her in his arms felt right. More right than anything else in his life.
She was everything he wanted.
She rose on her toes, capturing his lips with hers.
The contact surged through him, all reason leaving. All he wanted, all he craved was more. More of this, more of her taste. More of her. He didn't care where they were, had no sense of his surroundings. He was lost completely in her, in the feelings she evoked.
She moaned when he kissed her deeper. The sound unleashed something inside him. Lifting her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist, supporting her full weight with his body before he took them both down to the ground.
Her skirts tangled around their legs, but he didn't push them away. He needed to feel her beneath him, to press every inch of his body against hers, even if they were both clothed. It was primal, and he couldn't fight it. Hell, he didn't want to fight it. Couldn't hold back the need to bring them closer together.