by Fiona Faris
Onesmus leaned forward. “Allies? Killian sent you?”
Chris gave him a look. “Everything you know about Killian, do you think he would be seeking allies among his enemies?”
Onesmus looked down at his drink. “No. So when you say allies…you mean to bring him down?”
“It’s the only way I get out.”
Both Onesmus and the girl stared at him as if stupefied.
“Bold of you to think you can take Killian Wyatt down.” Vicky said at last.
Chris gave her a wry smile. “That’s why I need your help.”
“Exactly what kind of help are you looking for?”
“I can take Killian down, but if I do it alone, his allies will just come for me. I need you to help me by attacking his establishments at the same time, take his whole operation down.”
Chris kept his eyes on his hands, looking at the marks there and giving them a chance to absorb his words. When he looked up they were still staring at each other with wide shocked eyes.
“Well, I will say this for you, young Christopher. Nobody can ever accuse of you of thinking small. We could use someone with your ambitions with us.” Onesmus said bluntly.
Chris’ shook his head. “You could never trust me. I would always be the man who turned on his master. A traitor.”
“So why do it?” Onesmus’ look was as blunt as his tone.
“Because I cannot live like this for another day.” Chris was aware that he was giving too much of himself away, but he had reached the end of his rope.
The woman abruptly got to her feet. “Fine then. We will have to discuss this with Avery before we can give a definite answer. We will still need you to go back to him, and do his bidding for a bit longer. What do you say, Chris?”
Chris finished his drink and set the empty glass against the table. “If you’re dicked in the nob enough to take Killian on with me, I guess I can go back to him for a few more days.” He replied.
Onesmus and Vicky got to their feet and shook his hand. Onesmus lifted up his drink in a toast. “To Killian Wyatt, shortly to be a corpse.” Then he drained his glass.
Rebecca gaped at him as he stopped speaking. “Weel don’t stop now. What happened next? Did ye have intercourse with the girl?”
“What?” Chris frowned, “All that I told you and that’s your question.”
“Of course I want to ken how ye defeated the big bad master but…”
Chris smirked. “You’re jealous.”
“No! I am not! I just…ye described her dress and her looks…ye must have been interested.”
Chris shrugged. “She was Avery’s old lady. I wasn’t about to mess with that.”
“Okay then, so what happened next?”
Chris looked around at the horses, still grazing peacefully in the glen. The sun was just disappearing over the horizon. “It’s getting late, oughtn’t we find a place to spend the night?”
Rebecca frowned at him. “We have time.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He got to his feet. “I think we should go now before darkness finds us still on the road.”
Rebecca sighed but could not deny the wisdom of his words. Still, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine. But we shall find an inn and ye shallna spend the evening flirting with serving girls.”
“Of course not. Why would I when I could spend the evening in your fine company eh?”
Rebecca rolled her eyes and got on her horse. They rode in silence, Chris hiding his smile at having gotten his way. It seemed a good story was the way to Rebecca’s heart. He filed that information away for future reference.
The inn was nothing more than a three roomed structure with an adjoining kitchen and dining room. The chicken stew they were served was thin and the day old bread was hard but it would have to do for the night. To compensate for the less than stellar food, they were each served a tall glass of fresh goat’s milk to wash it all down.
Chris kept shooting glances at Rebecca to see how she was managing with the food, but she ate uncomplainingly. “We had much worse sometimes growing up,” she said abruptly, apparently reading his glances correctly.
He nodded. “Me as well.”
She turned to study him intently before shaking her head and going back to her food. After dinner, the innkeeper led them to one of the rooms. “You’re our only guests so we are giving you the biggest room.” He said with flourish as he opened the heavy wooden door.
Rebecca stepped in and was surprised to see that the room was clean and smelling of the fresh sawdust that had been laid on the floor. The bed looked newly made with fairly clean sheets if old, drawn back in readiness for bed. There was a single candle resting on the window sill and a basin filled with gently steaming water on the table.
“Not bad.” Rebecca said.
Chris nodded, refraining from telling her that he’d slipped the innkeeper a little extra in exchange for it all. She crossed over to the washbasin, and splashed some water on her face before unbuttoning her gown and running a wet cloth down her arms and underneath her shift. The room had no fireplace so it was getting cold. Chris took his clothes off and slid into bed, waiting patiently for her to finish her ablutions. He watched the play of light on her hair, lighting her brunette curls with reddish highlights. He wanted to bury his hands in that hair, pull her to him and kiss her until she was breathless.
He was aware that Rebecca was not the only one who was forgetting that they were essentially enemies. He had caught a glimpse of something with his new bride. Something he wanted to hold on to.
He sighed loudly. This is such a bourach.
Chapter Twelve
“So tell me now, what happened next?” Rebecca asked as soon as she settled in beside him, clad in just her shift. He could see her nipples through the thin cotton.
“I am afraid I am going to ask for a toll.” He said, his tone mockingly regretful.
She rolled her eyes, making him smile. “What is it? Another kiss?”
He inclined his head to the side. “That…and I wish to touch your breasts.”
Her face reddened becomingly. “I beg yer pardon?”
“You heard me.”
She gaped at him, shaking her head.
“No?” he asked and then turned away from her, “Goodnight then.” He made to pull the covering over his head.
“No wait!” she cried, catching hold of the blanket, “Alright…ye may…touch my boobies.”
Chris made sure not to look the least bit smug as he turned over and sat up.
“Alright then, I shall tell you a thrilling tale of my prowess.”
There was something satisfying about fighting an opponent who was just as deadly as he was himself. It made every punch, block, and tumble that much more exciting. The exertion caused Chris’ heart to race as his feet two-stepped across the floor. He had picked up his fighting style on the streets, his primary teacher the man he was currently trying to beat to death.
All the tricks in his arsenal a result of fighting for his life.
His knife had been punched out of his hand when he’d crept up behind Killian, hoping to take him by surprise. Instead, he was the one who had been blindsided when Killian had whipped around, slamming his wrist against Chris’ raised hand and dislodging the knife. It had been an all-out brawl ever since. Chris wondered who would tire first. Killian was much older than he was, but he was also evil incarnate.
Killian had more training and it showed. His moves were tight, controlled. From the first time he had met the man, Chris had known that those cerulean eyes, dead of any emotion were to be taken very seriously if he wanted to keep breathing. Now, staring into piercing eyes full of focus and determination, no one could doubt that this fight would end in death for one of them.
A lightning strike of a fist had Chris rolling to avoid the worst of the blow as he was hit hard in his side. Tumbling sideways into a somersault, he landed in a crouch launching himself immediately back at his master. His hands closed around Killian’s m
iddle and he tackled the other man backwards. The breath was knocked out of both of them as they hit the ground with a smack. .
Chris recovered first and scrambled along the other man’s body to straddle his hips. He held the man down using his weight to his advantage. This didn’t stop Killian from fighting hard. His body was a writhing mass of limbs beneath Chris as he struggled to keep from being dislodged. Not that he had ever done so but Chris imagined that fighting an octopus would feel the same. His hands reached for his master’s neck, but failed to connect before they were suddenly rolling across the floor.
They struggled together, each one trying to gain the upper hand, before Chris wound up back on top. His shirt was dripping with sweat and his hair hung down his face; it was getting far too long again and he regretted not having tied it back to keep it out of his eyes. He had not been expecting to get in a fight though. He had just planned to stab Killian in the back. He pressed his forearm against his opponent’s neck, pinning him to the floor while pushing down on his windpipe.
Killian dealt him several vicious blows in the ribs, in succession, making him grit his teeth against the pain. Those many-times broken bones weren’t what they used to be anymore. Nevertheless, the pressure he was exerting on the other man’s neck never wavered. His stubborn streak was something of legend, and he could not afford to give up or weaken until he had killed Killian Wyatt.
Unfortunately, his opponent was just as determined not to relent. He aimed another blow to the side of Chris’s skull, making his ears ring as he was knocked aside. Apart from the grunt at on impact, Chris gave no further reaction -it was far from the worst blow he’d ever taken. In his line of work, it was par for the course.
His opponent gave no quarter, and definitely did not wait around for Chris to recover from the pain and disorientation. He shook his head from side to side, trying to get past the dizziness. He felt Killian’s pale, cold, ruthless fingers reach up and wrap themselves around Chris’s throat. Chris drew one knee into his chest and kicked out, swiftly catching Killian just below his ribs as he was not at all excited by the idea of being choked. He threw the other man backward away from him.
That gave them both a chance to scramble to their feet, and left a bit of space between them. Circling each other warily, they each sought a weakness or chink in the other’s defense. There were a few fake starts, each of them trying to draw the other into attacking, but none of it worked. Killian’s jaw ticked, giving away his agitation and Chris knew that he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.
Slowly, an evil grin spread across his face as he deliberately taunted his opponent into attacking, and he was surprised to find that he was enjoying himself. Patience was a virtue that Chris cultivated, having learned early on that waiting and watching paid off in his line of work. He knew that if he just held on for the right time, his perseverance would be rewarded.
Sure enough, it was only moments before the other man was charging forward again no doubt propelled by hubris and anger at Chris’ betrayal. Chris blocked his right hook, then a left, before Killian tried to push Chris backwards with a barrage of hits. Chris had a solid defense, however, and managed to stand his ground. He used his arms to block the worst of the blows, waiting for his chance – a small opening was all he needed. All he had to do was wait.
As his master drew back just a touch, Chris’s gaze sharpened. He stepped forward, not quite getting into the other’s space, and stomped down with one foot, close to the other’s ankles. Instinctively Killian moved to protect his lower body, which was Chris’ intention. He had seen it used before, and it had never failed and he could not help but adopt it for his own. Sadly, he was unable to thank the man from whom he’d learned it, as he was unfortunately buried in an unmarked grave.
His fist connected with squarely with Killian’s face, glancing across the jaw, pitching him off his feet and landing him once again on the ground. He knew that blow would cause a moment of stunned inactivity in which Chris could administer the killing blow. He placed his hand on each side of Killian’s cheek and twisted viciously. The sharp snap that accompanied his master’s neck breaking was the most beautiful sound that Chris had ever heard.
“Wait. Ye dinna tell me how ye got there. Ye just went straight to the part where ye’re defeating yer enemies. What did the other brigands decide? Did they attack the businesses too? How did ye get close to your master if he is such a proficient fighter-?”
Chris held up his hand to forestall her queries. “One question at a time dearie. I can’t remember all of that.”
Rebecca sighed in exasperation. “When ye left the other brigands, they were to discuss with their leader. What happened there?”
Chris shrugged. “I knew Avery would not pass up the chance to attack the heart of Killian’s businesses. He’d been looking for an inside man for years. I knew that. Everybody did. Nobody dared to betray Killian.”
“Until ye.”
“Yes, until me. I was ready to die for my freedom so I had no fear.”
Rebecca nodded. “I understand. So Avery was agreeable?”
“Yes. I gave him the locations I knew of and we agreed on a day and time and then we attacked.”
“And ye’re saying Killian dinna ken ye were coming?” Rebecca’s blue eyes were wide with interest and she was sitting up straight, her body angled toward him. Chris wanted to keep her there for the rest of time.
“Yes. He was always expecting attack, true, but he was also very big, very powerful. He took for granted that no one would dare to move against him.” Chris’ lip curled in a sneer, “Especially not his very own golden boy. His slave. Always did what he was told without protest.”
Rebecca could see the pain in his eyes and her own softened as a result. She covered his hand with hers. “Well, ye did it.”
Chris turned to her, remembering himself and struggled to smile. They sat in silence for a while, Rebecca’s hand gently squeezing his. He sighed, turning to face her. “Sometimes I wake up and I’m back there. I feel like my life is the dream and that is my only reality. And then I remember that he is dead…”
Rebecca tightened her hold on his hand, not saying anything.
He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe sometimes. I feel like maybe he’s not really dead. It’s all a trick and he’ll walk through the door and tell me to pack my things because we have to go.”
“It’s over,” Rebecca said softly, “Ye got awa’.”
Chris’ mouth twisted in a wry smile and he took a deep breath. “Anyway, so what were your other questions?”
Rebecca shook her head, “Never mind. We can talk on it another time.”
“Okay.”
Rebecca lay back on the bed, pulling him down with her. He lay upon her bosom, staring at the flame of the candle, just remembering. She ran her fingers slowly through his hair, combing it out with her fingers.
“So I suppose ye never got around to cutting yer hair?”
He huffed a laugh. “Didn’t see the need…after.”
“What did ye do after he was dead?”
“I’ll tell you that another day.”
“When ye’ve thought of a new toll to extract?”
That made him laugh out loud. “Probably, yes.”
He ran his hand down her torso, reveling in lying on someone so soft, yielding and his. He gave a sigh of contentment. “Do you want to…?”
“We already consummated our marriage.” Her hand had stopped moving. Chris sat up to look into her eyes. “The sacrament of marriage means that intercourse is a prayer, an act of worship.”
Rebecca laughed meanly. “Is that what ye were whispering to the serving girls ye had in yer lap?”
Chris sat up completely with a sigh. “I did that to make you jealous. Obviously I succeeded a little too well.”
“I am not jealous!”
Chris gave her a small smile. “Good. Because they meant nothing and I did nothing but have them on my lap. Why, I didn’t even steal a kiss. I’m
a good and faithful husband. Now will you not come and lie with me?”
Rebecca turned away from him, folding into herself and closing her eyes. He reached out, placed his palm gently on her shoulder, one finger flicking back and forth as he surveyed her thoughtfully, waiting to see what she would do. She did not jerk his hand off her, but she also did not react in any other way. He ran his hand slowly down her back, tracing circles into her spine.
“You drive me mad with desire,” he whispered, his hand traveling lower.
She turned around very abruptly, staring at him. “I dinna give ye permission to do that.”