Harris grinned, spat out a tooth, and then spat blood. “Well, well.... Young Nichols, is it? I remember you. All grown up, then? Last I saw of you, you were running away as your little sister pled for mercy.
“Aye. Her name is Caroline.” He jumped to the floor and kicked the sword toward him. “Get up.”
Harris reached for the blade and jumped to his feet. “Still squeamish when it comes to straight up murder are you, lad? It’s a nice gesture, though.”
The rest of the men had stepped back, clearing a space, while the remaining townsfolk had run for the door, fleeing into the night.
“I just want to take my time with it, Colonel.... Savor the moment after all these years.” He sprang forward in a lightning move that left Harris cursing with an inch-wide gash from temple to jaw. “I think it’s more fun this way.” They were circling each other, eyes locked. Robert was a master swordsman, not a frightened child, and he could see the realization slowly dawning in the other man’s eyes. “She still thinks of you. She sent me to say goodbye.”
He lunged again and Harris gave a shriek of pain and rage as the giant blade pierced his left shoulder, cutting through muscle and tendon. Nerveless fingers opened and his sword clattered to the floor. Laughing and cursing at the same time, Harris pulled himself up against a table and tried to staunch the flow of blood.
“As you can see I am unable to wield a weapon. The duel is over. I’ll tell you what, Nichols. Why don’t you say hello to her for me? Kill him, lads.”
~
Cursing, shouting, screams and breaking crockery were doubtless viewed as ominous signs to most people, but for Hope and the sergeant they were a godsend. Ever since Hope had decided to turn around and head to Yorkshire instead of London she had been afraid of her husband’s greeting, but after searching the deserted Farnley Woods, and the towns of Farnley, Gildersome and Leeds, she began to fear that something might have happened to him on the way. Both she and Mr. Oakes agreed that asking questions might do more harm than good, but that reduced them to wandering from tavern to tavern, inn to inn, hoping to find some trace of him. If Oakes viewed the sounds of battle as promising, then so did she.
“I expect we might find him inside, my lady. Perhaps you should wait here with some of the men.”
“I’ve seen my share of tavern brawls, Oakes. I am not some delicate flower.”
They stepped into a chaotic mess. Tables and chairs were overturned. A woman lay unconscious or dead under a table, at least three men lay dead on the floor, and three others were fighting a fourth, who was laying about him with a giant sword that sang as it cut through the air. Robert!
“Why look, boys! ’Tis one of the king’s sluts herself come to call.” The words were spoken by a massive bald-headed man covered in blood. She knew him instantly from Robert’s description. There was a momentary lull in the battle as the entire room turned to stare. She stared right back. As Robert looked at her, stunned, one of the men rushed him from behind. He raised a gauntleted fist without looking, smashing the man’s nose and dropping him like a stone.
Robert heard the snick of metal behind him and turned just in time to deflect the blade of a wicked-looking main-gauche but he was too slow, catching the man in the thigh instead of through the heart.
“Get the woman, you fools,” Harris shouted, and his two remaining attackers rounded on her. Robert turned his back on the man who’d murdered Caroline and plunged his sword between the shoulder blades of one, while Oakes and one of his men did for another. Hope was safe in a corner, surrounded by five more of his men. At least she’d had the sense to bring them. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the colonel.
“Now…you die.”
“I’m not inclined to humor you, Captain.” Harris reached behind a wooden pillar, snatching the skinny, battered youth by the hair and pulling him close like a shield. He held the razor-sharp short blade to the lad’s jugular. “We’ll be leaving now, Nichols, and with no interference or I’ll slit the boy’s throat.”
“No, you won’t.” Robert’s voice sounded disinterested and cold. “The boy is your son.”
Harris grinned and chuckled, shaking the boy’s head back and forth by the hair. “You think that will stop me? His mother’s a whore. That’s her on the floor, and him naught but a little bastard. I’ve plenty more where he came from.”
“Do you think it will stop me?” Robert sounded curious, almost amused. He took a step forward, resting the tip of his sword over the boy’s heart. “Beyond this lies your lungs. You took something from me. Why should I cavil at taking something from you?”
“Robert, no!”
“Listen to your bitch, Nichols. You’re scaring her.”
~
Robert turned to look at Hope, the tip of his sword never leaving the boy’s chest. What she saw horrified her. This was what he’d warned her about. This savage blood-covered ferocious man with the snarling voice, sword outstretched and death in his eyes.
“God damn it, Oakes!” he snarled. “I’ll have your head for bringing her here. Get her out. Now! Take her back to London and the king where she belongs.”
She stared at him in shock. “Robert, please. You can’t—”
“Leave. Now,” he growled. “You have no business here. Go and don’t come back.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“That poor child!”
“You needn’t fear for him, my lady. The captain—”
“Wouldn’t hurt him. I know. You told me you’d never seen him harm an innocent and I believe you. But when we left he was holding him at sword point. And to have one’s own father use you as a shield. What kind of man does that?”
“The kind who needs killing, I expect, my lady. The captain wouldn’t go after a man for no reason.”
“No. He had reason enough, no doubt. I am sorry if I’ve dragged you into trouble with him, Oakes.”
“I’m a tough old badger, my lady. I can weather the storm.”
“I should not have asked you to turn back, or to abandon His Majesty’s escort at a coaching inn—but the further we got from Cressly the more convinced I became that he was on a path that would do him far more harm than good. I was a fool to think he needed rescuing. He is clearly a man who can care for himself and all I did was make a mess of things. I have never seen him so angry.”
“Neither have I. But the mess was made before we got there, my lady.”
“We quarreled before I left, you know. He is quite done with me now I think.”
“Do you, ma’am? I think he was more angry that you saw him like that than he was with you.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “There’s a name for men who release something savage in battle. It’s said they glory in it.”
“Aye. The Vikings called them berserkers. The captain, he is a fearsome man in battle. He’s good at staying alive and that means he’s good at killing. But it doesn’t control him. He controls it.”
“You told me that at times before battle he had eyes that looked like ice. I saw that look tonight.” She shivered.
“Aye. I noted it, too. But no berserker stays his sword in the midst of battle or stops to see his lady safe. Remember that when you ask yourself what things he holds most dear, or what it is that rules him.”
Oakes patted her hand before leaving her to her thoughts, joining Jemmy on the box to ride musket as the coach took her back to London.
She settled back against the cushions, still haunted by the image of the bruised and hollow-cheeked youth, an innocent trapped between the hatred of two grown men, both whose duty it should have been to protect him.
Oakes is right. Robert wouldn’t harm him. But there were other ways to harm than using sword or fist. His words came back to her over and over, churning to the rumble of the coach. You don’t want to know. I go hunting. If you knew who I really was you wouldn’t like me much. You might even be afraid.
He had told Oakes to take her back to the king, where she belonged. He’d told her n
ot to come back, and after seeing him, she was far from sure she wanted to. He had warned her, yes…but some things no words could adequately convey. She wasn’t sure she would ever forget the sight of him, blood-covered and snarling with bodies all around. She very much feared it was burned in her memory. It was part of who he was and now it was a part of her.
Oh, God! Just as his sister’s death is forever a part of him, and Harris’s death will forever be a part of his son. Hope felt a deep sense of despair. Robert wasn’t the pure and shining knight of her dreams, nor the monster of his own. He was honorable and kind and tried to do right, but whether born to it or brought to it by circumstance, he was also a warrior, battered and scarred by wounds so deep they might never heal.
She had said his mistress was revenge and Oakes had said it was war. Could a man like that ever settle for the kind of life she wanted? As husband, father, lover, friend? Was it fair to ask him to choose, or to blame him for following the only path he knew? And did any of it matter anymore when he’d sent her back to Charles?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Oxford Kate’s, London
Robert Nichols was far more comfortable giving help than asking for it, and William de Veres wasn’t making it any easier.
“Good God, man! You mean to say you’ve misplaced her? She’s a wee little thing I’ll grant you, but a fellow really should try and remember where last he left his wife.”
“And where is Elizabeth?” Robert asked though gritted teeth. “Perhaps she would know where a woman of quality might lodge if not at the palace. I’ve always found her very resourceful.”
“Lizzy? Damned if I know. Probably off in a gambling hell fleecing the life savings from some off-duty footmen. She’s very partial to them you know.”
“No…I didn’t know.”
“You are fond of the girl then?”
“Of course I am! She is my wife.” They paused their conversation as a barmaid came with bread and beer.
He was more than fond of her. Much more. He’d been struck by an epiphany in the middle of a tavern with his enemy at his mercy, the tip of his sword at the breast of a lad who looked as lost and angry as he had once been, and the wife he loved walking out the door. From the moment she danced in the park he’d known her as his. She had lent him her laughter, her passion, her trust, and for the first time in years life was worth the living.
There was nothing in his world more important than her. She’d stood by him as he relived his darkest hours and she was right when she said it was his turn to stand by her. And so he had abandoned his revenge. Hope was more important. The boy was more important. But Harris was a threat, more-so now, and the decision was not without its dangers....
“Well…Charlie hasn’t seen her yet or I would know it. Does she want to be found, Captain?”
“Eh? What? Oh.... Perhaps not.” Robert shifted uncomfortably. “She has reason to be annoyed with me. I doubt she’s expecting me. She was greatly disturbed when I decided to go after Harris rather than accompany her.”
“That was not well played, my friend. You have arrived in time to redeem yourself, though, but what if it’s Charlie she wants?”
“It isn’t.”
“So you have you managed to capture the heart of one of London’s most charming beauties?”
“Her heart and her hand are both mine.” At least he hoped so. “I mean to bring her home.”
“Safe from our sovereign’s greedy reach. I understand. But what to do about Harris? It’s unfortunate you weren’t able to finish him off. A wounded beast is a dangerous one.”
“I know. I would have had to kill his boy. The lad was innocent.”
William nodded. “It wasn’t I who sent you the note, by the way.”
“I know. I suspected it for a trap immediately, but as I was already there…” He shrugged.
“Fortunately the trap is not yet sprung. It was baited of course, to capture larger prey. He hoped to lure you there to make you seem a part of it, then play the role of informant and savior in front of his grateful king. You fought for Cromwell. A rumor here and there and next you are a Puritan. An old association found and voilà, a Fifth Monarchist incensed at a king who would make you a cuckold. People will believe what they hear on very little evidence, because though it may be a sin to believe evil of others, it is seldom a mistake.”
“And what do you suggest de Veres? You seem to keep abreast of many things.”
“I suggest we do to him what he meant to do to you. He’s already placed himself in Farnley. Several men can claim to see him there, including one of His Majesty’s paid informers, Joshua Greathead. It’s a simple matter to put him in the midst of the plot. Yes, he was a Royalist, but then a Parliamentarian, and then back he goes to a Royalist once more. Who can trust such a man or guess what he might do? Particularly when the king humiliated him in front of all London by promising a reward for returning to the fold only to snatch it away to give to a lowly baronet. A great many people owe him large sums of money. They will be glad to believe it and glad to see him gone.”
Robert tilted his head and regarded William through narrowed eyes. “Just what do you do for the king? Besides writing scurrilous verse?”
“Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that. Only on occasion and when I’m in the mood, but I’ve always found it useful to know useful things. Hopefully you were circumspect?”
“I am always.”
“At the tavern, too?”
“Only Harris is alive, knows who I am, and could place me there.”
“The boy? He might ask questions or have something to say.”
“A necessary risk. A tolerable one. Leave him out of it.”
“None will notice if a minnow escapes the net. It will have to be drawn tight immediately though, so no one else does. It would be best you were innocently asleep with your wife when it happens. “
The silence that followed was interrupted by a muffled burst of laughter and the soft strains of a fiddle from the room below.
“It doesn’t seem honorable.” Robert sighed and unsheathed the longsword, laying it across his lap. It glittered blue and orange, reflecting flames from the hearth. “This was meant for him.”
“He is rapist and murderer and I promise you, he does dabble at treason. He doesn’t deserve any kind of honorable death.”
Robert looked him in the eyes, his gaze direct. “He murdered someone I loved several years ago. I’ve waited a long time for this. His death should be my responsibility, William.”
“Not everything is your responsibility, Captain. This man is also a danger to Charles. He has to be dealt with in any case. If you’ll allow someone else to bring him to justice, I can promise you it will be done. A belated wedding gift, if you will. What matters most to you, Robert? Revenge? Pride? Or your woman? It seems to me you have two choices, trust me to handle it with due diligence whilst you see to your lady, or take the risk of losing her and handle it yourself.”
“You know the choice is already made.”
“Then I have something else to tell you. His Majesty meets with your beloved within the hour.”
“Be damned you say! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I have just done so, but I advise you to approach with caution lest you find yourself barking orders at drunken recruits in Tangier.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Hope Nichols, Lady Newport, had wandered for three days after her arrival in London at a loss as to what to do. No one recognized this obscure country countess, though she drew several admiring glances from the gentlemen she passed. Her house in Pall Mall was occupied by a diplomat from France and when she gave her summons to the harried chamberlain at the palace he glanced at it quickly and told her he’d fix an appointment but it might take several days.
She took some rooms in an inn facing the park and settled down to wait. Apparently, despite the stress and upheaval it had brought to her life, her summons had been an afterthought to Charles. She had no place to call ho
me, no desire to speak with Charles, and the last she’d seen of her husband he’d had his sword pointed at a young boy’s chest. When His Majesty called for her at last her temper was short and her nerves severely frayed.
He rose to greet her the moment she entered the room, arms outstretched and a warm smile on his face. “By God, madam! How is it possible? You are more lovely than I remembered!”
She avoided his hug, stepping in to a proper curtsey. “Your Majesty wished to see me?” She stood stiffly, refusing a proffered chair.
“You are annoyed with me. You feel I left you in the country too long.”
“You called me from my home at the busiest time of year, and then left me waiting at an inn.”
“You never answered my letters.”
“Because I had nothing left to say to you, Charles.”
“Come now, love. I told you it was temporary. You are a lady now. I’ll have a suite prepared and—”
“I won’t be staying. I don’t have feelings for you anymore, other than the honor and respect I owe my king.”
“I am certain I can convince you otherwise, sweet—”
The door burst open and a black-clad giant strode through the room with a clutch of armed men scrambling to catch up behind him. He removed his hat and bowed low. “Your pardon, Majesty, for the late arrival. I had a spot of trouble on the road.”
Hope felt a thrill of excitement. He was troubled. He was dangerous. He was here!
The king waved his guards away. “Captain Nichols! Or should I say Lord Newport. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Surprise? I am confused, Your Majesty. Did you not recently summon my wife and I to court?
Charles lips twisted in annoyance. “So I did. Though it was my understanding you might be too ill to make the journey. In future you must not feel obliged to come every time your wife is summoned. I will be assigning her duties for my queen and expect to see her here often.”
Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) Page 26