The Angel's Assassin (11 page)

Relieved that she
had finally retreated, he returned his attention to the fish that had evaded
him thus far. After many patient moments spent waiting, he made his move,
swiftly spearing a fish.

Wading back to the
bank with his catch, Annabel clapped in delight as he thrust it in front of
her. An odd sense of pride filled him. He couldn’t even remember a time when he
had felt proud of himself. It was not like he had done aught to be proud of in
his lifetime.

Pulling the fish
from the spear, he laid it in front of her and she stared at it with some
apprehension.

“Can you gut a
fish?” he asked.

Looking sheepish,
she shook her head. “Nay, I am afraid not.”

“Tis no matter,” he
said softly, sensing her discomfort. “I shall show you in a moment.”

“Oh, will you? I
would like that. ‘Tis a rare occasion that anyone lets me do aught for myself.”

Nicholas could well
understand that. She inspired the protective nature of almost everyone she met
with her gentle manner and waif like appearance.

Taking the time to
catch another fish, he concluded they were large enough to see them through the
next night and he settled beside Annabel to show her how to prepare the fish.

Annabel was grateful for
Nicholas’ time and patience. They were both hungry, yet he showed no
frustration when she had revealed her lack of skill with a blade. As she
struggled to scale the fish like he had shown her, he positioned himself behind
her, his legs surrounding hers, so that her back was flush against his chest.
His arms came around her and guided the knife across the fish, flicking the
scales over the ground.

The task was hardly
a pleasant one but as his callused hand guided hers to make the cuts, she could
hardly contain the excitement she felt to have him so near. While his company
caused a yearning ache deep inside, she also realised that she took great
pleasure in the quiet companionship they had. His composed and driven nature
seemed to balance her more whimsical one, and he treated her with respect
instead of the condescending attitude that so many men bestowed upon her.

His bare legs
rubbed against hers through her shift and she sighed, a feeling of utter
contentment overtaking her. With the last fish done, she wiped her grimy
fingers on her sullied chemise and laid her head back against Nicholas. He
stiffened slightly, his unsteady breath brushing over her ear.

“Annabel,” he
whispered warningly.

She didn’t move,
just waited, his deep breathing the only movement between them. She had gone to
him before but now she wanted Nicholas to come to her. Slowly, ever so slowly,
he dipped his head to her neck, skimming his lips over her skin. It was all she
had needed and she tilted her head, allowing him better access. Exhaling
raggedly as his tongue darted out to taste her, she reached up to clutch at his
hair. It was only when he moved to kiss the arch of her shoulder, did she
realise something was missing. Her hand flew to her chest and she patted at it
desperately, searching for her mother’s necklace.

Nicholas
straightened, seeing her desperate movements, before curling his arms around
her as he realised what she was looking for.

“Forgive me, Annabel.
There was no time. ‘Tis likely it came loose in the fire.”

She gulped in an
effort to restrain her sorrow. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful to Nicholas,
who had risked so much to save her, but the loss of her necklace grieved her
deeply.

“Pray do not cry. I
will find it for you, I promise.”

Annabel sniffed,
her heart warmed by his impassioned words. If anyone could track it down, it
would be Nicholas, but she doubted even he could manage such a feat.

“Will you tell me
why you were running?”

He remained quiet
for a moment, rubbing his hands up and down her arms in a soothing motion.

“Annabel, do you
believe Lord Benedict would ever hurt you?”

“My uncle? Nay, of
course not.” She tried to turn to look at him but he held her in place, his
ministrations gradually easing the tension in her body.

“That fire was no
accident. ‘Twas set deliberately and your door had been blocked.”

She gasped. “That
was why I could not escape. But how do you know the fire was deliberate?”

“I’ve seen fires
before but this one was aggressive. It took hold too quickly and I smelled pig
fat. ‘Twas likely used to ignite it. I do not think it a coincidence that it
was set underneath your room.”

“But why?”

“Your uncle’s man,
Godfrey, was there. Do you know him?”

Annabel nodded, a shiver
running through her. She had never trusted him. He watched her through
constantly narrowed eyes, completely devoid of any sign of humanity.

“I believe ‘twas he
who started the fire, who tried to kill you. Annabel. I think ‘twas your uncle
who ordered it.”

She stood then, and
Nicholas let her, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked to the water
and contemplated all he had told her. Did her uncle really want her dead? He
had never been a particularly warm man but he had always come to her aid, even
if he did make no secret of the fact that he thought that she should never have
inherited. But then why send aid for her? Why not just let the rebels kill her?
He was a clever man - that much she knew - so if he really had planned to kill
her there would be a reason behind every decision he had made.

Glancing at
Nicholas, she saw naught that could make her doubt his words. She trusted this
man with her heart and her life. If he believed someone was trying to harm her,
then she had no choice but to believe it herself. Could it really be her uncle?
She had already heard his character called into question on their journey, but
she could not believe her own blood would want to hurt her. Whoever it was, she
trusted Nicholas would keep her safe. Wrapping her arms about herself, she trod
carefully over the pebbles as he rose to meet her.

“What shall we do
now?” she asked him.

 “We continue
running.” He looked at her grimly. “For now,” he added as she made to protest.
“Annabel, I will do my best to see you returned home but I will not if it means
your death.”

She shuddered, the
thought of never returning home scaring her almost more than the thought of
death. Nicholas brushed a reassuring hand over her hair, absently toying with
the strands at her neck.

“I will look after
you.” He looked at her uneasily. “I am…I am wealthy. I can see that you live
well, Annabel, whatever happens.”

Confusion caused
her to crease her brow. Was the life of a knight-errant so rewarding? He
certainly didn’t behave like a man of wealth. And what was he offering her? He
had said naught of marriage, so what did he mean when he said he would look
after her? Annabel swiftly realised that all her questioning was futile. Mayhap
she was being naïve but she had little choice, her home had been taken by
rebels and there was a chance her uncle wanted her dead. Besides, it would only
be a matter of time before Nicholas realised what she already had. They were
fated to be together.

***

They ate their fish
in silence, huddled around the fire. Nicholas still kept his arms around
Annabel, worried about her getting cold, but mentally he attempted to distance
himself from her. It did not help that she seemed to wear down all of his
defences, eating her way into his heart. She was there already, he could feel
her with every throb, but somehow Annabel was working deeper, unlocking every
emotion that he had yet to experience. The sudden change within drained him. He
felt as if he had spent all his years asleep and he was only just now awakening
to the world. A world that now seemed to revolve around Annabel.

He was
apprehensive, fearful for her welfare, and he knew he needed to figure out what
they should do next. The fire was so out of character from what he knew of Lord
Benedict. He was a cautious, shrewd man and he had obviously gone to great
lengths to ensure he could get his hands on Alderweald without casting
suspicion on himself. No doubt he had already set about casting Annabel in the
role of villain in this tale and he wondered if the king had been lured into
believing she was aiding the rebel barons. To ensure her long term safety,
Nicholas would have to find some kind of proof of Benedict’s machinations.

They were still
headed in the direction of Hampshire and he concluded the best way of finding out
what had changed was by visiting Benedict’s manor. It was a risky move, to be
sure, but a necessary one. He could not decide what their next move should be
until he knew what Benedict was planning or he at least had some kind of proof.
With his decision made, he turned his attention back to Annabel who was
patently still recovering from her ordeal.

“Annabel, you
should rest some more.”

“Will you rest with
me?”

“Aye.” He intended
to refuse but his mouth and body had other ideas.

They settled down together,
wrapped in his mantle. Though he lay rigidly, Annabel pulled his arm about her
and her bottom nestled into his thighs. He gritted his teeth in restraint and
attempted to focus on his duty to protect her rather than the feel of her soft
body next to his and how perfectly she fit into his embrace.

Her breathing
slowed and she fell asleep long before he did. The small sounds she released as
she slept and her fidgety manner now seemed so familiar to him, and almost
comforting. In the end his exhaustion and her warm body sent him into a deep,
satisfying sleep.

Taking custody of Alderweald had
been so simple, Lord Benedict could have laughed. And he would have done, had
it not been for the fact that he still had no legal right to it and apparently
his assassin had seemingly gained a conscience.

He crumpled the
missive that sat in his hand and flung it into the fire pit, hissing in anger.
He looked around for Godfrey and then remembered he wasn’t there so he served himself
some wine and took a large gulp.

Strolling up to the
solar, he wandered around the large chamber, fingering the fabric of the
curtains, the fine wood carvings and the sheets of the bed. It still smelt of
her, that silly, insipid niece of his. His lips twisted.  That she should
have so much and he should have so little was practically sinful. He, who had
worked hard all his life to serve king and country, and she, who had done
little except smile and charm just about everyone in the county.

Benedict had found
he’d had to evict all the servants. Their loyalties very obviously lay with
Lady Annabel, as did the men-at-arms. He was grateful he had brought all his
own men. With them interspersed with the Alderweald men, they would not dare
raise arms against him.

Of course, they had
all greeted him with open arms. And so they should, with all the help that he
had given Annabel this past year, they owed their livelihood to
him
. As
the rebels departed, surrendering to him, the gratitude was boundless, yet he
knew they would still not accept his as their master.

The large one,
Gerard his name was, had questioned why Annabel had not accompanied him and he
had been forced to concoct a story. Gerard had seemed unconvinced that the
knight that had rescued her had actually kidnapped Annabel, but he knew better
than to question a lord.

Benedict clenched
his fist. As if a mere knight had questioned him. He spat on the floor, his
anger forcing bile up his throat.

And of course the
brave Gerard had volunteered his men to go and find Annabel and bring her back.
Aye, he wanted her back now that he could no longer kill her, but he could not
risk Gerard finding her and lending his protection. Unfortunately this had
triggered suspicion in amongst the men of Alderweald, but his strength in arms
would keep it at bay long enough.

He knew not what
Annabel understood of his plans for her but from what Godfrey had told him, it
sounded as though the assassin had realised there was a change of plan. How
very like Annabel to have convinced a hired killer to protect her.

Peering out of the
window, he admired the bailey and the village. Soon it would all be his. He
just needed Annabel back. Once she was back, she was sure to buckle to his
will.

***

Travelling on for another two
days, Annabel and Nicholas kept to the river’s edge, following it until it
thinned out. Both of them were still exhausted so they made slow progress and
the river’s meandering path meant they travelled little distance, but until
Nicholas knew where they were he was reluctant to leave its course.

Sleeping by the
riverside each night, somehow Annabel persuaded Nicholas to curl up with her.
Part of him felt more comfortable knowing that she was safe in his arms, and he
found he could rest well in her comforting company, but his need for her
strengthened with each touch to her exquisite form.

He had managed to
avoid kissing her again…with difficulty. Though she had not pushed him, he knew
she wanted him to. Her hypnotic gaze and plump lips called to him and he spent
much of the time simply avoiding looking at her.