Captured by Her Enemy Knight

by Nicole Locke

  Her brow creased, her hand waving a bit before it flopped down. ‘Been watching you for years and years and years. I was meant to kill you.’

  Eldric’s entire world locked on to her words. ‘What—?’

  Pounding footsteps on the deck. Eldric coiled his body over the Archer and slashed out with a dagger.

  Shuffling footsteps. ‘This is unpardon—’

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ the Commander’s voice interrupted and registered. Barely.

  The healed scars in Eldric’s arms burned. The Archer’s words, her actions. Everything in him demanded retribution. The wondering guilelessness in her eyes clashing with her intent to murder...him. He required answers.

  Just keeping back his snarl, he turned. ‘What do you want?’

  The Commander nodded. ‘This is the healer, found two ships down.’

  Eldric looked at the older, portly man with pouches upon pouches around his waist. His eyes looked warily from him to the dagger in his hand. ‘Does she live?’

  His gaze swung to the Archer, who was half-slumped against him. Her eyes were now closed. Injured, terribly, and he’d cost her with his questions. But he felt her breath and, if he paid attention, he could feel the pounding of her heart as well.

  ‘Unconscious.’

  The healer walked in front, though he kept some distance. Enough to make Eldric realise he hadn’t truly kept back that growl when they came upon him. He eased back.

  ‘It’s her back. She’s bleeding through and needs stitches.’

  The doctor turned to the Commander. ‘I can’t work out here like this with a woman. She’ll have to be undressed.’

  He hadn’t thought to undress her to get to the wounds. He hadn’t thought anything at all, except her words...that missive. Now all he could do was think of their predicament. Even if he could comfortably carry her below, they’d be trapped.

  ‘I won’t go below. The Commander leaves and you will do it here.’

  ‘Save me from overprotective husbands,’ the healer said, as the Commander marched across the deck.

  Husband. Eldric let his presumption drop since there was no alternative. As for the Commander, where he went, Eldric didn’t care. As long as there was privacy and as long as no one else saw her... Possessiveness. The irony was not lost on him. Apparently, husbands and hunters all had their claims.

  Easing her over to her stomach, he cradled her head into his lap. Without his hands holding her tunic together, the wound was more clearly seen, but not enough.

  ‘What happened?’ The healer set down a bag and got out a pair of shears.

  Eldric didn’t trust them, or the healer’s question. ‘Let me.’ He unsheathed the smallest dagger and nicked the already torn fabric. It fell easily away to reveal a clean diagonal slice from almost the base of her back to the curve of her waist. Around the edges looked torn. Since she stilled, only a little blood pooled across the dried blood on her back.

  ‘’Tis deep,’ the healer said. ‘It may need to be cauterised.’

  To burn her skin would be quick and they could escape if needed. He baulked at the scar it would leave, but shook that instinct away. This wasn’t a mere woman; she was the Archer.

  Eldric nodded his head. ‘Do it.’

  The healer stood, and Eldric swiped his cloak down her back to remove the excess blood—and revealed all her skin.

  The healer gave a rough exhale.

  It took far too long for Eldric to understand what he was seeing. When he did, he bit out a curse, then another as everything inflamed inside him. Possession. Claiming. Rage. None of them made sense.

  But the spy and warrior in him was aware of the healer staring, gathering information that would be harmful to them all. ‘You’ll tell no one of this or you won’t live.’

  The healer stayed quiet and Eldric looked over his shoulder.

  The healer gestured behind him. ‘I need to retrieve the tools to seal the wound.’

  ‘No fire. Stitch it and make them the finest you’ve ever done. I won’t... She won’t scar again.’

  At the healer’s hesitation, Eldric bit out, ‘Now.’

  The healer knelt. Eldric adjusted his body to give the man access to her, but he didn’t let her go. Aware always of his surroundings, aware, too, of just how careful the healer was with her. How fierce his frown.

  It most certainly reflected his own. He could murder the one who had done this to her. Irrational when only a few hours before he’d wanted to harm her as well.

  She’d been whipped. Several times, over different days and long ago. As a child, perhaps. The thin scars were nothing but white shimmering wisps across her back, but so many. And none of them looked as if they tore into the other. She’d been whipped once, then allowed to heal before she was whipped again.

  Dissecting all these thin lines were blunter ones. Some shallow and broad. Blade cuts, scrapes. Like the one the healer was mending now.

  He had chased the Archer, knew the strength of him...her. Her cleverness. Knew at one point she had had to climb up on to a thatch roof to escape him. An impossible feat. She must have been injured along the way. He’d relished that she was injured while he pursued her. A drop of blood spilt for all the blood she had spilled.

  But seeing the effects of what she did, perhaps what he had forced her to do when she fled from him... And those men. She seemed...familiar with them and they wanted her dead. As did he.

  ‘I didn’t—’ Eldric stopped.

  The healer’s brow was sheened with sweat and he didn’t glance up at Eldric’s stumbled words. What was he to say? That he didn’t know about her wounds; therefore was not her husband. That he didn’t harm her? The guilty would proclaim innocence. Eldric kept his counsel. ‘There’s coin for you.’

  The healer simply hummed. His attention on the thread, on her back. The slice wasn’t any longer than his hand, but deep enough to bleed, to hurt.

  The Archer remained unconscious, but her body twitched with almost every stab of the needle. He swore he could feel every one of them himself.

  He’d been trained at Edward’s court. The punishments for mistakes were fierce, but never permanent. Never disfiguring. Who she was, what she was, he had no idea. Tonight, she’d saved his life. She’d killed to do so and looked dismayed right after. She’d confessed to watching over him. Why?

  All this time, he thought only of the horror she had meted out. He never thought, not once, of the horror she came from. ‘I am what my father made me.’ Could it be...was it possible her father had done this to her? If so, what else...?

  Knotting the last stitch, the healer placed his hands on his knees and leaned back to drag his pouch over. Putting away his supplies, Eldric saw that his hands remained steady, though his expression returned to the wariness of before.

  ‘You did well,’ Eldric said and meant it. The stitches were as fine as he’d ever seen. No blood seeped. If she did scar, it would be thin...like the rest of them on her back.

  ‘Keep her rested and give her liquid often. A bone broth would be best. She’s thin.’

  ‘Your coin,’ Eldric said, lifting the pouch at his waist.

  The healer stopped wiping his hands. ‘I don’t need that much coin, warrior.’

  ‘Your service was needed and you came.’

  ‘My service requires only one of those coins and even that is generous, as well you know. But my children have children, so I’ll take two none the less.’

  Eldric pinched two coins and left the rest in his pouch. His instincts should be clamouring to threaten this healer, to bribe with more coin. Something to secure his safety. It was all too easy.

  ‘Why?’ he said instead.

  The healer took the coins and smiled. ‘Ah. Why do I not call the guards or pretend some umbrage because you are not her husband? Why don’t I demand more coin than you have?’ />
  Eldric couldn’t answer any of those questions.

  ‘It’s simple. I know you didn’t do this and why do I know that?’ The healer gave a soft smile and turned to leave. ‘You care too much for her.’

  The Archer’s weight was on his lap, her back exposed to the air, to him. He did not move, but watched the old healer say a few words to the Commander, who slowly approached.

  ‘I have rooms below, sir.’ The Commander shifted his feet. ‘It seems you might need one.’

  The man’s clothes were English, but still dishevelled, and his crew were more pirate than soldier. ‘You sail ships and are far from London. What care have you to protect us? I’m not so naive to think the seal I carry has more influence on you than it has already commanded.’

  ‘I’m loyal to England, sir.’

  ‘Your crew are loyal to you; I recognise the mark on their arms. Not all of them are loyal to England.’

  The Commander shrugged. ‘Your sword is fine.’

  Ah. How much room did he have to bargain? None. No manoeuvre that did not expose him and the Archer in some way. Putting her on a cart and heading to the Tower when those men roamed free was also not a choice. It wasn’t for her sake, but for his own plans.

  ‘You want my sword?’ he said. ‘Why not kill me, my back has been presented enough.’

  The Commander scoffed. ‘My men are better at thieving than fighting. I’m not a fool, sir. That fine a blade with a well-worn pommel means you use it and use it well. Nothing wrong with...negotiating first.’

  Negotiation with a pirate. Did he think he had power any more? The Archer slept in his arms now, but the wound was deep and she’d lost blood. Far worse, he had more questions. ‘How long can we rest?’

  ‘I must sail to France later this afternoon. A few passengers, mostly cargo to load, but when in France I will be conducting business. With your royal papers, I would ask that you stay in the room when we dock. For at least a day.’

  Trapped and compromised by illegal dealings and he was in no position to go against such a request. It wasn’t onerous and, by the look in the Commander’s eye, it wasn’t negotiable. ‘Your men truly are better thieves than crew? This is a poorly protected ship and I see no routine maintenance as is being done on the others.’

  ‘Much better thieves, monsieur.’ The Commander raised one brow. ‘Check your purse.’

  He had his purse when he paid the healer. No one had been anywhere close since then. Still... ‘Passable attempt at trickery.’

  The Commander laughed. ‘But your expression! You weren’t certain at all. That is how good we are. As to the rest? My crew, when they see a desperate well-dressed man, they know better than to chase him away. It’s better to lure the rabbit to the trap, you see.’

  So he’d boarded the ship with their knowledge. Clever, and he could be bought. They could be protected here.

  Another day. Surrounded on a boat where the mercenaries couldn’t get to them. Another day in which to question her. Time for her to rest, too. To heal from her injuries. He shook his thoughts. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, soften when it came to her. She was still the Archer, despite her taking a dagger to her back, the fact she was whipped as a child, the fact she’d protected him. The fact he hunkered over her protectively. Damn God’s bones!

  ‘I have coin,’ Eldric said. ‘You will be amply awarded if you let no other well-dressed man or men on your ship.’

  The Commander’s eyes narrowed. ‘How many more men and how well trained?’

  ‘Well trained and more than I could fight alone.’ This Commander looked like any other appointed Englishman, but he was no fool. ‘But all the coin that could be yours is not on me.’

  ‘Hidden silver.’ The Commander flashed a grin. ‘My favourite kind.’

  Eldric wasn’t fooled by the easy grin. This man could be trusted as long as he had coin. Which only meant others could give him more coin to betray them.

  ‘You and your men didn’t fight me because the odds weren’t in your favour,’ he said. ‘Know that if you betray my trust, it’s not only me you have to fear.’

  ‘Now you attempt to intimidate, so what do you have to tell me next?’ The man crossed his arms. ‘Let’s see if it was worth allowing you on my ship.’

  This Commander wasn’t as trustworthy as Eldric liked, but he was intelligent and so he had to take the risk. There was, indeed, one more factor to negotiate and it all had to do with the mercenary’s words.

  The Archer had a father, who had kidnapped a child. The Archer who followed him for years, who possibly knew who his friends were.

  And that familiarity that he couldn’t shake, that he was somehow tied to her. He was beginning to believe there were no coincidences here. And if her father kidnapped a child who was half-Scottish and he knew of a Scottish family who had lost a child, then... Then even if it was all conjecture, it didn’t matter. He had to tell the Colquhoun clan. Tell his friend Robert and his Scottish wife Gaira he might have found the trail to their adopted daughter Maisie. A child who had been kidnapped, who they still couldn’t find.

  And he was trusting all this to a man who took money for loyalty. And yet...the Commander was providing a safe haven instead of simply taking the coin. Eldric suspected there was more to the man than he let on.

  ‘Do you have a name?’ Eldric asked.

  The man smirked. ‘Do you?’

  Eldric exhaled. ‘There is more to negotiate and more coin to be had,’ he said. ‘In particular, I need one of your men, without fail, to deliver a message.’

  The Commander canted his head. ‘Terric. My name is Terric.’

  ‘Your true name?’ Eldric asked.

  ‘Would it matter if that was my true name?’

  If this man could be trusted, Eldric would prefer him to be on his side. ‘See that message delivered, Commander, and I’ll tell you my name.’

  Chapter Eight

  Cressida woke with her back on fire, but the remainder of her rested on the plush comfort of perhaps two mattresses and at least six pillows. ‘Eldric.’

  ‘Here.’

  She turned her head, took in the horizontal boards, no windows, the smell of ocean and the rocking. ‘We’re on that ship?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Easy. Don’t get up.’

  One sharp move had her understanding his order. The pain which burned in her back now flamed everywhere. It didn’t matter, she’d toil through the pain. She always did. Pulling herself to the edge of the bed, she slithered to the ground.

  Eldric launched from the seat in the corner and caught her halfway. Her hands on the floor, her body on the bed. She felt familiar pinpoint stings.

  ‘You stitched me?’

  ‘That’s what you want to talk of?’ he said, trying to push her up. She dropped her head to make it more difficult, but she couldn’t match his strength.

  Seething, she settled back, but when he started to adjust the pillows around her like some babe, she’d had enough.

  ‘Do you ever stop?’ Eldric reached over the bed to grab her. ‘How far do you think you’ll get crawling out of the other side?’

  ‘I have to go.’

  ‘No one’s getting on this ship.’

  ‘I need to get off.’

  ‘You won’t get past me.’

  His words were stern, but his voice... Something was different. She didn’t know what it was. He should be in a rage because the mercenaries had attacked and would again. Not this careful...this caring of her.

  ‘They’ll return,’ she said, settling in. She’d wait until he slept and escape then.

  Keeping his eyes on her, he walked backwards to the chair and sat. ‘I’m counting on it.’

  She looked back at the ceiling. ‘You mean to make us targets?’

  ‘Yo
u already are a target. My presence makes no difference.’

  She waved her hand, revelled in the movement even through the sting from her wound. ‘Other than it’s your death they’ll achieve. Let me out and you won’t have to worry about it.’

  ‘It’s you who would worry over me, isn’t it? You saved me from that mercenary—why?’

  She should have hidden her reaction, but she couldn’t. She was remembering now. What she told Eldric. Her confession about her father, about Eldric, that she watched and protected him like some lovesick fool! The heat of a blush only furthered her embarrassment. ‘After the mercenaries came. After that blade struck, you...you asked me questions.’

  ‘And you answered a few. But I have many more. Why did you save me? My death would have freed you, wouldn’t it?’

  She didn’t blink. ‘We were both being attacked. I acted on instinct.’

  His frown deepened. ‘No truth, even now? What about who you are?’

  Never did she want to answer these questions. Never did she want the truth revealed. Embarrassed for what she had confessed; shamed because she had. She was a warrior as strong as any other! She could ignore the slash in her back. The agony of loss that slowly squeezed her heart. ‘I was in pain, injured, and you took advantage of me.’

  He held up his hand. ‘Let’s not travel down that path again and my questions will far outlast your avoiding them. Who is your father?’

  Oh, that she had her bow and arrow to shoot the appendage down. ‘Whatever ramblings I did in my delirium, you should ignore. Drunk people say ridiculous things. I’m sure I said nothing sane.’

  ‘You weren’t drunk and we both know you’re far more resilient than you claim, injured or not.’

  She knew what was different now in his voice and could not be more defeated. Blinking to keep the sting out of her eyes, she glared at the ceiling.