by Nicole Locke
Mere hours in her presence and he had not only captured the Archer, he knew a bit of who she was, what she was. Why she cried. The pain in her voice. Her father...she loved him. Eldric could hear it, yet the man had abandoned her and now stolen a child to replace her.
But he’d been pursuing the Archer for months. He’d fought her. Between her beauty and her skills, there was no replacing her. And certainly not with a child. There was more to learn here.
‘Why did you lose your father? Why is he trying to kill you?’
She paled, her brows drew in. ‘I told you that, didn’t I?’
‘Not in so many words, but—’
‘Because I betrayed him,’ she interrupted. ‘Surprised? Not more than myself. I was hidden in a village at a vantage point where I could protect him as well as complete a task he’d ordered.’
‘Task? You mean to kill an enemy of his.’
‘A woman and a man who travelled with her. My father stood in the middle of the village. The woman, she was distraught. Angry. They fought, he’d raised a dagger to kill her.’ She stopped, took a quick breath. ‘This is a woman who had something my father wanted very much. We’d been pursuing her for months. If nothing else occurred, I was in a position to kill her. One shot of my arrow and she would have been dead.
‘But she talked. Before he raised his knife to her, she said things. One of my father’s men had killed her brother. There was grief in her words and I... I don’t know what happened. I released my arrow and it hit him. Stopped his arm from going any further and the man swept up the woman and escaped.’
‘You won’t tell me what the item was, or who the woman was, or whom she fled with?’
She shook her head as if she could dislodge the memories. ‘No, it’s not safe to tell you this much!’
Fear in her voice now. He wanted that bastard. Wanted him for creating every pain not only to his own life, but to Cressida’s as well.
Feelings? Emotions? Too many now. He was no longer a spy and warrior bent on vengeance. On fixing rights from wrongs and proving his loyalty to the King, while he committed treason by not telling him that Robert lived among his enemy, the Scots, and Hugh hid in Spain trading English secrets.
Complicated. Entangled, and despite everything even if her father had ordered her to kill his friends, to mark his arm, she was the one who had released the arrow. She’d killed his friends. She’d never once said anything to the contrary.
He couldn’t forget, yet he’d kissed her and, though she demanded he not do it again, he wanted to. Very much.
There was something that drew him to her. When she wasn’t guarded, she looked at him, as if...as if he was more than someone she had run from and fought. Maybe if he could not think of his friends, and if they could resolve everything between them, he could understand their connection.
What was it about her eyes? The vulnerability, the fragility. She was raised in numerous abbeys, had been at her father’s side ever since. There was an innocence when she spoke to him, but... He would be a coward not to acknowledge the look he saw in her eyes now.
If it was unfathomable that he desired her, it was equally confounding her wanting him. But she did.
The way her eyes darkened, the flush around her cheeks. When she had licked her lower lip and kissed him back. Wrapped her arms around his neck and gathered herself around him. She wanted him. How? Why?
‘You were supposed to kill me, too, but you didn’t,’ he said. ‘You haven’t. Why are you protecting me from his order? I’ve been pursuing you to bring you to justice, and you’ve... You’ve watched me for years. Wasn’t this another betrayal? Why didn’t he know of it and why are you protecting me? Because I’ve seen your skill, Archer; if you meant to kill me, I’d be dead.’
Cressida felt the flush bloom from her heart and cover her cheeks. She looked away even though Eldric could see it.
After all she’d told him today, this was one bit she was hoping to avoid. But, of course, he’d guessed. Or at least, was attuned enough to know something else was motivating her.
After that kiss, though, she was surprised he asked. Couldn’t he guess she wanted him? No, now he wanted her to say it.
She could refuse. After all, she hadn’t told him everything. Her father’s identity, his schemes, those she hid from him...because it kept him safe. But her protecting him, watching him, truly had nothing to do with her father and everything to do with the warrior before her. Eldric was her secret. Did she dare to tell it now?
‘When I was old enough, my father took me on trips from one camp to the next. For training, he’d have me go to neighbouring camps and hide. To bring back some snippet of information for a reward. I was a child when I first spied you from a tree.’
‘Because he’d ordered you to kill me? When you were a child?’
His gaze was too direct, his body too close. She turned her gaze away from him and kept quiet; she’d said too much already.
‘Do you need to rest?’
‘Rest? I can feel the ship moving. We are no longer anchored. The trip to France isn’t long.’
‘Why be in such a hurry? What do you think to do when we reach France, Cressida—escape? We made an agreement to do this together and, if you must know, I made an agreement for protection on this ship.’
Had she foolishly trusted again? ‘What do you mean? We’re not sailing to France?’
‘We are...but the Commander requested we stay below until the following day after we dock.’
‘No! That puts us too far behind.’
‘It puts us exactly on the time that we have. You are still now, but even you must feel the tug of your stitches. I feel the sting of your head butting mine. This ship was the best cover and so convenient it almost seems implausible. One more day of rest will not hinder you or me. You father will not be an easy man to thwart and you’re not facing him alone.’
He then slapped his knees and stood. ‘In any case, I’m hungry. Aren’t you thirsty?’
Such a change of conversation, but now reminded she realised she was hungry, thirsty, tired. She was filthy. A day lost, but would it truly be so terrible?
Cressida hugged her arms around herself. Her injury was stitched, would heal enough to travel off the ship. When they docked, she would escape. She would make right the wrongs of her father. In the meantime... ‘I need some clothing, something to wash with and mead, the kind infused with herbs or spices if they have it.’
‘You prefer sweeter things. I am glad to know this.’ His tone was almost playful as he opened the door.
‘Eldric.’ He turned. The cabin ceiling was low and Eldric could not stand at his full height. It should have made him look ridiculous, but it didn’t. She suspected nothing could. He was a giant of a man, but everything in perfect proportion. The way his brown hair fell to his shoulders, the lashes that framed the blue of his eyes. Everything about him drew her.
It didn’t matter, none of this could end well. If it was only her father’s wrath she had to face, there could be a compromise, but her father was at the beck and call of the Warstone family. Even the King was respectful of their power. She’d go against her father and maybe she’d survive, but she wouldn’t survive the Warstones.
‘You confuse me,’ she said.
‘How?’
‘I’ve told you... I told you how I was made. How I became what I did. You know what I’ve done, yet you’re offering me food and rest. Time to heal. Why?’
‘Does there need to be a reason?’ he said.
She’d shared too much. She needed...she didn’t know, some reassurance. She had told him enough so that her sister could get a chance should something happen to her and yet...she’d also told him so much more than she had intended.
She’d answered questions he’d been asking since he bound her to that bed. She’d refused him before, but him holding her while
she cried had crumbled the few defences she had left.
His expression eased. ‘Come, it will be easier after we clean and have some mead. There will be hours of rest before us.’
Her heart wouldn’t survive the many hours with him.
‘Ah, you’re thinking again,’ he said. ‘If it has to do with avoiding the mead and talk and intentions to escape the moment we reach French soil, you need to stop. It won’t happen.’
‘You can’t meet my father.’
He flashed a grin. ‘You expect to protect me. I’ll find out why. Maybe he’ll just meet me instead.’
‘I don’t understand you.’
‘I hardly understand myself right now, but it will all be over soon. When the Commander gives the all-clear we leave to find your father.’
‘You keep saying we cannot go on as we had before, but you forget we do not have to proceed. I’ve told you too much. You think maybe this is all safe. That I’m not dangerous to be around.’
‘You put scars on my arm, fought me and almost broke my nose. I know what you’re capable of. And if that man raised you, I won’t underestimate him. But you forget I am dangerous as well. And thirsty, too.’
She asked again, ‘Why? Why the kindness?’
She didn’t think he would answer her. His eyes stayed steady with hers, but his expression revealed nothing, whereas she felt as if she revealed everything to him.
‘Because you deserve it,’ he said, before closing the door behind him.
Chapter Eleven
With a few moments for relief outside the room, to clean, to change clothes, they attacked the food and talked far through the day and into the night.
Maybe it was the mead, maybe it was Eldric. She didn’t feel like herself. At least, not a version she was familiar with. She’d never been this free with anyone before. Never been allowed this much company, let alone a man’s. And all the while, his words echoed in her head, that she deserved it.
They didn’t approach any more dangerous topics. She was almost content as she told him about the times at the abbeys. The separation from the nuns, her father’s visits. Their disapproval afterwards even though they took his coin.
When he asked why they disapproved, she told him about how her father had trained her in the abbey’s courtyards. How he wasn’t gentle, but he was free with his praise when she did well.
Despite knowing the truth now, the memory of her father’s visits was still a happy memory for her, though the nuns’ disapproval meant missed meals and extra kneeling.
And though Eldric almost smiled at her stories and especially when she regaled him with the time she threw a dagger backwards and stuck it in a tree, he’d quickly lose those almost-smiles. A certain faltering of his lips, a dullness to the blue of his eyes as if he’d remember her learning those skills had meant the death of his friends.
Still, he shared his own stories. Of being raised as the sole son of parents who were happily still alive. He’d told of being sent to Edward’s court for training. How he’d wanted to cry, but he couldn’t because he hadn’t been able to hide like natural-sized children.
And that was the word he chose. She remembered all the times she’d watched him being careful around others and her heart broke a bit for him. She would have protested, but he caught himself. Asked if she already knew all this about him.
She lied because she loved hearing his voice tell the stories. She both revelled and despaired at it as the night wore on. Amazed she’d be able to have such a time with anyone, let alone this man.
* * *
It wasn’t until it was time to sleep that she realised her dilemma. The room was small, the bed smaller. Cramped. She might not have access to her bow and arrows, Eldric had hid them somewhere on the ship, but if they were attacked, being in a cramped area was not wise.
She knew, logically, they were on a ship. If the mercenaries were to attack, it would have been done already, but she couldn’t stop the years of training.
‘You do not want the bed?’ she asked.
‘I could hardly fit my frame there.’
The bed was hardly a bed, but more a hammock. He’d managed to sit on it, but the length wouldn’t support the rest of him.
As for her... ‘Could I...also have the floor?’
He snapped a blanket in front of him. ‘Worried that I’ll tie you up?’
She didn’t know how to answer that. ‘With the low ceiling it is not as if I can spring from the bed.’
‘No, but you could crawl out of it easily enough.’
Hours together and he jested with such an easy manner. She’d seen Eldric like this many times with his friends and, as he arranged pillows, he almost whistled under his breath. Not the long piercing one that first caught her attention, but a lilting tune. One that she wanted to follow.
She hardly knew how to respond to that as well. When she didn’t answer, he turned to her, his brow lowering. ‘You mean it. You truly want the floor.’
‘If we’re attacked or...’ She nodded.
‘We are on a ship. No one knows we’re here. How can you expect an attack?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re used to sleeping in the open, aren’t you, and I...pinned you to the bed. I’m—’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not letting you out of this room, so I suppose this will have to do.’
He laid down closest to the door, his weight dispersing the bedding outwards.
The floor appeared as though it offered plenty of space until Eldric laid down and took up half the room. With raised brow, he grabbed two pillows and plopped them at his side.
She almost wanted to smile. Two pillows were hardly a barrier, but who was she to feign propriety? She had camped around men her entire life.
But this was different. Now she was alone with a man—this man—and it was entirely her actions that would dictate the course in front of her. The crux of the matter was she didn’t know what course to take. She never did when it came to Eldric. He was her private wish and laid out before her, he was hardly a secret any more. Everything in her knew it, too.
Eldric made some sound and grabbed another pillow, adding it to the pile at his side. ‘Is this enough?’
For a barrier, no. But she was lingering and there were no other choices. Gingerly, she stepped on the mattress and settled as much towards the edge as possible. It was more than comfortable, but she was all too aware of the man on the other side of the pillows.
‘I could sleep on the deck,’ she said, already knowing the answer, but suggesting it despite herself. They were on a ship, after all, there were hardly many places she could escape.
‘Never.’
She flipped to her back. ‘You sleep on the most ridiculous padding.’
‘There’s something beneath us?’
She turned her head towards him. The hill of pillows blocked a clear view of Eldric next to her. Still, with his size, there were glimpses of him. The spill of his dark hair over one of the pillows. The slant of his leg because his right foot was flat on the floor. Against his stomach rested a forearm. His posture was both alert and relaxed. Even in repose, he was formidable.
‘Five pillows under your head and you feel nothing?’ she said.
‘You may think this is excessive, but if I had one less pillow, I’d never find sleep. When you’re as large as me, your weight will go through any feathers and straw.’
She snorted. ‘When I’m as large as you, I still would find this much padding frivolous.’
‘A jest, Cressida?’
It was the almost teasing tone in his voice that froze her. No one laughed with her. Where did this ease come from? The mead or the conversation? It was too much, too soon. She was lying beside a man whom she had spied on and who had hunted her down. The day before they’d been enemies.
And she...made jokes, as though this was all some game? It wasn’t amusing. It ch
anged something within her and she could tell it changed something in Eldric for he was suddenly silent, a restlessness to his propped-up leg that hadn’t been there before.
‘No, it’s more of those contradictions, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Hours of talking, but there’s something still missing.’
‘You haven’t told me everything.’ They had avoided talking about him bringing her to the Tower.
‘True, but you haven’t as well.’
What was she to say? She longed for something that could never be. To be raised as something other than a weapon. To have attended the Christmas dance in Swaffham as a true guest. To have danced the entire night with Eldric. To have accepted his kiss that night instead of waiting.
To truly understand deep inside her heart that she did deserve his kindness.
But those were all fanciful dreams. Oh, she wished she could trust him. He whistled, laughed. There was a bit of her that felt if she told him everything, he’d understand. He understood everything else. He wasn’t her enemy, but she was his.
Between them should only be barriers, not comradery and conversations that lasted into the early hours of the next day. He shouldn’t be almost whistling, and she never should attempt humour.
Death pursued her. Her father, the Warstones, the King of England and Eldric. At the same time, she was death. Raised as a weapon. Her arrow...piercing his friend, Thomas. That horrible moment when she saw the wretched grief in Eldric’s expression.
No, she had one mission now, to save the child her father had stolen and then to beg death to be swift.
There was nothing humorous about her life. No lightness, no easiness. No comfort. She turned on her side and forced herself to sleep.
* * *
Someone pinned her down. Her father had never done this to her before. Always he threatened to bind her between two of his mercenaries. Always she behaved and freely knelt with her bared back presented to him, her hands folded in her lap.
But now, she fought against the clamp of his hold. She was trapped. Suffocating. Words were being said to her. She didn’t want to hear them. She wanted to be free!