title: The Saint (Assassins Guild) (Volume 3)
author:  C.J. Archer 
description: <span>C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer. Her first historical fantasy series, THE EMILY CHAMBERS SPIRIT MEDIUM TRILOGY, has sold over 45,000 copies and garnered rave reviews.<br><br>C.J.  spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland,  Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband, two children and a mischievous black & white cat named Coco.<br><br>Subscribe  to C.J.'s newsletter to be notified when she releases a new book, as well as get access to exclusive content and subscriber-only giveaways. Join via her website: </span>cjarcher.com<br><span></span><br><span>She loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through email cj@cjarcher.com  or follow her on social media to get the latest updates  on her books:</span><br><br><span>- Facebook: facebook.com/CJArcherAuthorPage</span><br><span>- Twitter: twitter.com/cj_archer</span><br><span>- Tumblr: freakhouseresidents.tumblr.com</span><br><span>- Instagram: instagram.com/authorcjarcher/</span><br><span>- Pinterest: pinterest.com/cjarcher/</span><br><span>- Goodreads: </span>goodreads.com/author/show/4615377.C_J_Archer
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  The Saint
  
  Assassins Guild Novel #3
  
  C.J. Archer
  
  Copyright 2014 C.J. Archer
  
  Visit C.J. at <http://cjarcher.com>
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Money can't buy love, but it improves your bargaining position."
  
  ― [Christopher
  Marlowe](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11155.Christopher_Marlowe)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER 1
  
  Hampshire, July 1599
  
  "He comes! He comes!" Jeffrey, Baron Lynden, tore his equine nose away from
  the parlor window where it had been pressed for the better part of an hour. He
  wiped off the smudge it left behind with the lace cuff of his sleeve then
  arranged himself by the fireplace, propping one padded shoulder against the
  mantel and crossing his ankles. The pose showed off his legs in all their
  slender perfection, not to mention the new yellow velvet shoes made by
  London's finest shoemaker. They'd cost him a sum that could have fed a family
  from the village for an entire week.
  
  His cousin Elizabeth Buckley suspected that was the reason he wore them now.
  To Jeffrey's mind, ha