A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She turned over onto her back with a sigh. This line of thinking certainly wasn’t going to get her any sleep. She saw a shadow move in her room. At first, she thought it was Anna, the servant that had been assigned to her. She glanced at Emily. But Emily hadn’t moved. Grace sat up, trying to see into the room. Perhaps she had imagined it.

  “Emily?” Grace whispered and reached out to shake her. Her fingers touched something wet. Confused, she stared at her fingers for a moment. Then a shadow rose to life beside her, separating from the rest.

  Instinctively, Grace pulled away from it. She slipped over the wetness near Emily and they both slid from the bed into a pile on the floor. Grace turned over in time to see the shadow on the bed. “Run, Emily!”

  Someone was in her room! She was certain this time. She turned onto her hands and knees and crawled toward the door, calling, “William!” She managed to get her feet beneath her, but they caught in her nightdress and she fell onto her knee. She heard a whoosh over head. She tumbled forward and fell onto her back as the shadow flew over her head. The moonlight glinted on a metal blade whizzing past her.

  She screamed.

  CHAPTER 15

  William flung open the door just in time to hear Grace scream. He rushed into the room, the torchlight from the hallway washing into the room along with him. She was on the floor. He looked around, but could not see anyone else in the room. He rushed to Grace and saw red staining the side of her nightdress. He knew what the coloring was. He had seen it many times. His heart skipped a beat. Blood!

  She pointed frantically at the door. “There! There!”

  He dropped to his knees before her, grabbing her arms. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his gaze moving over her. He didn’t give a damn who was here; he was frantic for her, terrified she was hurt. There was blood in her hair, on her clothing. “Are you hurt?”

  “He’s getting away!”

  He shook her. “Grace! Are you hurt?”

  She moved her head from side to side, her wild, round-eyed gaze focusing on him.

  William glanced over his shoulder, but the doorway was empty. He ran to the door and looked left and then right. Whoever did this was gone. He returned to Grace’s side, afraid to leave her. He helped her stand. Concern marred her smooth brow and she looked at the floor near the bed.

  “Emily,” she whispered.

  William followed her gaze. Dread spread through him as he saw a figure in white lying face down near the bed. He stepped by Grace, ordering, “Stay there.” He hurried to the figure and knelt beside her. There was so much blood! It covered the floor and the bedding. He gently eased her onto her back.

  Emily’s limp body turned easily, falling into his lap. Her eyes were open, her lifeless gaze staring in accusation. Why didn’t you protect me?

  William’s hands began to tremble. His gaze moved over her. A thin line across her throat oozed her life blood. Oh, Lord. Not Emily. Not Emily. Tears rose in his eyes. He had seen Death so many times. But he had never seen Him touch an innocent life. Except the archbishop. He almost dropped Emily at the thought. This was punishment. Punishment for his sin. He looked down at his blood stained hands. Everything he touched was damned. He was a fool to ever hope God would forgive him. He was cursed, doomed to the fires of Hell for all eternity. William clenched his teeth, gazing down at Emily. If he would never be forgiven, if there was no way to escape his future, then why honor his vow of never killing again? He wouldn’t. He would find this assassin. He knew who it was. It was the man he had encountered at the Mortain cottage. He would find Peter and kill him.

  William gritted his teeth. If he had killed him when they were at the cottage, when he had the chance, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have been able to hurt Emily. She would still be alive. But his vow had prevented him from shedding any more blood. Now, poor innocent Emily was gone because he didn’t have the courage to kill again!

  He brushed her blood-stained blonde hair from her forehead and carefully closed her eyes with trembling fingers. He held her for a long moment, unable or unwilling, to let her go. Finally, he slowly stood, unable to take his gaze from his cousin. Emily, his mind screamed. Little Emily. Rage swirled within him and he whirled...

  Grace stood before him, tears staining her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen. She let out a small, shaky breath.

  William hesitated. He was death and blood and destruction. How could he bring this to Grace?

  “This is my fault,” Grace whispered.

  Shocked, William stepped forward. “No.”

  “The assassin was after me. Not Emily.”

  Horrified at her confession, William gathered her in his arms, comforting and taking comfort from her. He stroked her hair as the room came alive around them. Servants rushed in, steward Thomas entered. Someone screamed. And all he could do was hold Grace. She sobbed against his chest. William felt her agony. He had not been able to save Emily. How could he save Grace? But he would. He would do whatever he had to. She would not be harmed. He would not pass up the opportunity to kill the assassin. He would not miss that opportunity again.

  Someone called his name, but his entire attention was on Grace. William led her from the room to his room, housing her in the crock of his arm. Her face was buried into his chest. “You cannot blame yourself for this,” he whispered sternly.

  “If I had said no, that she couldn’t sleep with me...”

  He shook his head, peeling her away from him to look into her large teary blue eyes. He brushed back strands of golden hair from her cheeks. “No one says no to Emily. This is not your fault, Grace. The assassin did this. And he will die for it.”

  She bowed her head, putting her forehead against his chest. Her small hands were fists against his chest.

  William didn’t release her. He needed her as much as she needed him. He gently kissed the top of her head.

  “My lord,” a soft voice called from the doorway.

  “It was the assassin,” William replied with authority. “Have every man look for him. Detain anyone who does not belong. I can identify him.”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  “And have Anna come to tend to Lady Grace.”

  Her fist clenched in his tunic as if preventing him from moving away from her.

  “We must leave, Grace,” William said quietly. “As soon as possible. I must get you back to your father. He can protect you.”

  Grace shook her head. “No. I don’t want to. Not my father. He can’t protect me.”

  “He will,” William promised, his mind already formulating a plan to find the assassin.

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Her voice was so soft that at first William didn’t think he heard her correctly. She was scared, that was all, he told himself. He rubbed her shoulders to calm her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  William waited outside the closed door while Anna bathed Grace. The guard steward Thomas had assigned to the floor was dead. The assassin had snuck through the hallways, just outside William’s door, and entered Grace’s room. William thought she would be safe here for a day or two, at the least. He thought the assassin would head to Willoughby to search for her. Still... Something bothered him. Why was this assassin so intent on finishing the mission? Didn’t he know Curtis was dead? There was no one to pay him.

  It mattered not. Peter was a dead man. William would make sure of it. He would see Grace safely to her father. He looked down at the floor. The assassin had walked right past him. His hair fell forward and William lifted a hand to swipe it back. He paused. There was a smear of blood on his hand. Emily’s blood. Emily. Anguish gripped him in a tight embrace. He dropped his hand, staring at the red stain. He had blood on his hands before. During the fighting in Jerusalem. But only once before had there been innocent blood on his hands. He didn’t understand. He had promised never to shed blood again. And he had let the assassin live. And now, Emily was dead. What did God want from him? Why was He punishing him?

&
nbsp; He looked down the hall toward the chapel. He wanted to pray. He wanted to ask for guidance. He wanted answers. He had done everything Pope Alexander had asked, and more. What did the Lord want of him? His fists clenched as his anger grew. Emily didn’t deserve this. Was that what this was? The archbishop’s innocent life for an innocent life that meant everything to him? His chest ached for his cousin. Never to hear her laughter again. Never to see the joy and mischief in her eyes. Tightness clenched his throat closed. Why couldn’t God have taken him instead? Emily was just a child! Why take her? He had given everything, done everything asked of him. He had even made a vow never to shed blood again. But this was too much. It was a slap in the face. He had let the assassin live! And this was how God repaid him?!

  The door opened and Anna stepped out. William straightened away from the wall.

  Anna indicated the room solemnly with a tilt of her head.

  William walked past her into the room. Grace sat on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands clasped. The blood had been washed away and her dress had been changed, but William could see she was still hurting. She lifted teary eyes to him. His heart broke. He rushed to her side and knelt before her. “I’m sorry, Grace,” he whispered. Sorry about so much. Sorry for not being able to protect her. Sorry for not being the man she deserved.

  She dropped to her knees before him, taking his hands into hers. “Don’t. You’ve done enough.”

  “No. If I had, Emily would be alive. It was a mistake to come here.”

  Grace shook her head. “How could you have known?”

  “Because I told you. I thought to throw the assassin off our trail and come here instead of going to Willoughby Castle. But I did the same foolish thing Curtis did when he took you to his home. That was the first place they would look. I should have known this would be the place anyone tracking you would come.”

  She touched his cheek, stroking his skin. “You couldn’t have known. This wasn’t your fault.”

  He enjoyed her touch. It was warm and... bittersweet. She was a woman who didn’t want him, and a woman he could never have. “We must leave come sun up.”

  She swallowed but didn’t look at him. “And then?”

  “I will hunt him.” His voice sounded cold even to him. She snapped her gaze to meet his. Something passed in her eyes. Was it concern? Regret? Before he could decide, she looked down at their clasped hands. “You needn’t worry, Grace. I promise I will not leave until you are safe.”

  “What of your safety?”

  He was startled. She was the first to ever be concerned with his safety. “I am a knight.” He stated it as fact. He didn’t add the part about being cursed or regretting one moment in time for the rest of his life. “I am trained in battle. I will not fail in this.”

  “You are a man. You can be hurt or killed.”

  He released her hands slowly and straightened. “Who would mourn me? Perhaps my death would not be such a bad thing. I’m tired, Grace. I’m tired of the death that follows me like a shadow.” He looked down at his hands where Emily’s blood was like a scar, still smeared across his flesh. “I’m tired of the blood.”

  She put her hand on the side of his face, comfortingly. “I would mourn you.”

  He gazed into her eyes. They were brimming with compassion, forgiveness, and amazing strength. His stare dropped to her lips. They all but glistened, begging for his kiss. She would mourn him. A timeless spell descended on him. He was entranced by her soft hand on his face, her large eyes, her wet lips. He would remember this moment forever. And then she leaned toward him. He was so startled and wanted so desperately to kiss her that he couldn’t move. He was frozen to the spot.

  CHAPTER 16

  Grace pressed her lips to his. She was not experienced at kissing, but she knew she wanted to kiss William. His lips were like stone against hers, unmovable. Dismayed at her inexperience and inability to move him, she began to pull away. William suddenly reached around behind her and held her to him. His hand moved into her hair, holding her head against his.

  The kiss was desperate and needing. It heated her entire body. He slanted his head, his lips coaxing hers to part. Gentle nibbles and strokes caused her to sigh softly. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, touching every part, every soft recess. He was hard and hot and strong and capable. Grace felt the world falling away around her.

  Slowly, the heat and intoxication drained from his kiss. He placed a gentle kiss against her cheek and leaned his head against her shoulder. “Grace. Oh, Grace. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I do,” she insisted. “I know you love no one else. There is no other woman. I know you told me there was to push me away from you. I know you were just trying to keep me safe. I know that you are as lonely as I am.”

  He pulled back to look into her eyes. Desperation shone from his blue eyes as his gaze swept her face. “What do you see in me that I cannot?”

  She stroked his back, their bodies pressed tight against each other. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. They were still kneeling on the floor, wrapped in each other. He engulfed her completely in a blanket of security and safety and arousal. “William,” she said softly and opened her mouth to continue.

  “M’lord.” A voice called from the doorway.

  Both of them looked to find Steward Thomas standing in the doorway. William stood and helped Grace to her feet.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but everything is ready.”

  “And Emily?” William asked.

  Steward Thomas’s head bowed. “She will be buried in the graveyard near the village church.”

  William walked up to him and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Thomas.”

  Grace joined William at the door.

  William took her hand and stepped into the corridor.

  “The assassin, sir...” Thomas called, his voice laced with nervous fear.

  “The assassin will follow us, I’m certain of it. You will not be bothered by him any longer.”

  Tingles of trepidation clawed up Grace’s spine. William was leaving so the manor home and the village and everyone in it was safe. He was luring the assassin away, taking her away from his home so the assassin would follow them. Her hand tightened around his. She was surprised she agreed with him, and that she trusted him completely.

  “What of this, m’lord?” Thomas asked.

  Grace looked back into the room as did William. Thomas held the golden cross in his open palm, displaying it to William.

  “I have no further need of it,” William declared and led her down the hallway.

  A shiver of disappointment and unease rolled through her at William’s abandonment of the cross. Surely, the golden cross was just a material thing and meant nothing to him. She hoped it didn’t. Because it had saved their lives once already.

  They walked through the manor home and into the courtyard. Hellfire waited for them, saddled and fully loaded. William put his hands around her waist and lifted her into the saddle. Then, he mounted behind her seizing the reins. He didn’t look back at the manor home as he urged Hellfire through the streets. They moved at a quick pace, but as they neared the chapel William slowed his horse.

  Grace glanced over her shoulder to see him gazing at the chapel door. In the night sky, the tall tower was a black shadow. She knew he took every chance he could to pray. She knew he needed to pray now, especially. “Do you want to stop?”

  His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “No.” He spurred Hellfire.

  Grace twisted in the saddle to watch as the chapel tower melted into the dark night sky, growing farther and farther away. A chill settled across her shoulders. Something was different about William. There was something darker in his rejection of the cross. Maybe he was mourning his cousin. Yes. That must be it. Because Grace was afraid to think what else it might be.

  The sun began to inch over the horizon, bathing the sky above them in a pinkish glow. With every movement of the horse, William felt Gr
ace’s soft body against his. It was distracting. He had tried to think only of the mission ahead of him, but every bump in the road, every lift of Hellfire’s hooves pushed her bottom tighter against his manhood. It was likely to drive him crazy. He forced his mind to think of his cousin. Innocent Emily. He never should have brought Grace to Bovey. He should have known better. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t look back and think what if... He would make this right.

  “I have to go home,” Grace whispered, drawing William’s gaze. “I have to see my father.”

  “Yes,” William answered, but his mind was on other things. More blood. Broken vows. How he despised himself for being a fool. How could he ever have hoped to give up the sword? It was his destiny. Every time he swore it off, he was pulled back in. Either to defend himself or someone he loved. There would always be blood. No matter how much he prayed. There would be no more praying.

  “Life is too short to be angry with someone you love,” Grace said softly.

  William tightened his hold on her. “Aye. That it is.” After Emily, after everything he had experienced, he knew how right she was. “Is that why you left? Because you were angry with your father?”

  She took a long moment to answer. “I suppose that was part of the reason. I was angry with him because he betrothed me to you. I made assumptions about you like everyone else.”

  “Correct assumptions.”

  “No. I had the image of a monster, a devil. But you are nothing like that.”

  William remained silent. He was a monster. And he had to kill again to avenge Emily. He had to take another life.

  “Why didn’t you pray at the chapel?” she wondered.

  William stiffened. When Grace shifted her gaze to look at him, he couldn’t meet her stare. “He doesn’t hear my prayers.”

  “I thought that, too. I used to pray for a knight to come and save me. To help me escape. When Curtis was killed, I thought God had abandoned me. But I was wrong. He hears all prayers.”