The Angel's Assassin

by Samantha Holt

  Skirting the palisades, they made their way to the gate as the knight continued to slash and slay a path through. Forcing her out through the gap in the wooden wall, Annabel gasped with relief as he urged her forwards, away from the deadly onslaught.

  A shout behind them gave her cause for alarm as she realised that she had been seen and several men began to give chase. Her dark defender cursed and swivelled around, pinning her to his back once more. Upon eyeing the three men barrelling towards them, he sighed and gave her a stark look.

  “Run, my lady. Hide in the forests and I will find you.”

  She blinked at him, fearful of leaving the man who had brought her this far, but she nodded upon seeing the bleak look on his face and trusted that he would stay true to his word and find her. Annabel ran as fast a she could in her heavy skirts, making for the refuge of the gloomy forest edge. A battle cry erupted from behind her and it drove her to run faster for fear of what could be happening behind her. She heartily prayed for the brave knight as she sprinted across the flat land that led away from the great keep.

  ***

  Nicholas watched as the men approached through his cold, dark eyes. Angry that he had been forced into battle, he roared and shook his sword at them, goading them towards him. He had come this far, he wouldn’t let his precious burden be taken from him now. And she was precious….for the moment, at least. Although he had begun to wonder if he should not have demanded more coin from the lord now. He had not realised he would have to steal her away in the middle of a full scale war.

  Weighing up his opponents, he was pleased to note the bloodlust that filled their expressions. For others it would have been hard to recognise such a look, particularly underneath their metal helms, but Nicholas was an expert in fighting. And death.

  As a fighter, he was entirely too single-minded to allow emotions to overcome him. His focus allowed him to fight harder, faster, and stronger, giving him the opportunity to succeed where others would almost certainly fail. Like when facing three bloodthirsty enemies, for example.

  The first one came upon him quickly. Lanky, and therefore faster, he arrived before his comrades, giving Nicholas the chance to fight him undistracted. He was cut down quickly with a swipe to his chest and he fell with a howl.

  The second two were more cautious than their comrade and they approached together. A droll smile flickered on Nicholas’ lips as he immediately took the offensive, swinging down upon the first man with frightening speed. His opponent barely parried the blow and stumbled, but Nicholas was unable to take advantage of it as the other man lunged for him. The air vibrated around him and time seemed to slow for Nicholas as he met the lunge with a forceful swipe, sending his enemy’s blade wide. Swinging his sword back the other way, he sliced clean through the knight’s arm, his sword embedding into his side.

  The other knight saw the opening and stabbed his sword forwards quickly. Nicholas spotted the movement and jumped aside, allowing the blade to glide past his chest with little space to spare. Wrenching his blade from the fallen knight, he threw his weight behind his sword as he plunged it down into the neck of the man. As his enemy dropped to his knees, gurgling in pain, Nicholas extracted his sword without a glance at the dying man.

  The first knight was crawling away, dragging himself across the dirt, but Nicholas ignored him. These men were not his quarry. His was cowering in the forest somewhere waiting for her rescuer. He sighed as he wiped his blade upon the dead man’s tunic. He supposed he better go find his beautiful prey.

  ***

  Nicholas found her trembling in amongst the undergrowth, not far from an ill-used forest path. She was hardly concealed; her pale hair and skin made her appear like a spectre under the bright moonlight. He had been surprised when he had first seen her, though why, he did not know. She was incredibly small, her features tantalising and painstakingly put together - as though God had chosen very carefully to bestow such a delicate creature with a slender jawline, a slightly upturned nose and full lips. It was her eyes that had caught his attention. Wide and wary, they had stared at him with fear and then with unquestioning trust. Framed with golden lashes to match her golden eyebrows, their strange grey colour reminded him of the steel of his sword. Such large eyes in such a refined face were utterly unexpected and he felt pinned down by them and totally exposed.

  Her hair was remarkably long, trailing past the curve of her spine, and it was so blonde that it was almost white. Bound into a simple braid, he wondered what it would feel like loose – would it be as silken and as thick as it looked?

  Cautioning himself against such thoughts, he was astute enough to recognise the flare of desire. It was rare he desired anyone if he was honest with himself, and the last thing he need was to feel an attraction to someone he would have to kill. A small part of him hoped he would not have to. What harm she could possibly do to her uncle, he wasn’t sure. It seemed to him such a creature was about as dangerous as a child. But it mattered not. He was here to do a job, and do it he would. Nicholas was naught if not thorough.

  Annabel turned with a start as she heard his approach. Fear quickly gave way to relief and she bestowed a dazzling smile upon him. Nicholas frowned as she jumped up and placed a hand on his arm. He didn’t take well to people touching him but he couldn’t bring himself to remove her dainty fingers.

  “I am glad you have returned to me, I feared being left alone in these woods. They say ‘tis haunted by all manner of ghosts…” she trailed off as she saw his scowl. “What are we to do now?”

  “Your uncle wishes for you to join him at his home.”

  “In Hampshire? ‘Twill be a five day journey at least.”

  He nodded. “Aye, mayhap more on foot.”

  A furrow marred her brow and Nicholas longed to smooth it out with his fingers. “You have no horse?”

  “Nay, ‘tis easier to escape unseen on foot.”

  It was rare that he did ride. Nicholas had become an expert in slipping in and out of places unnoticed and it was difficult to do so with a mount. When distances necessitated it he would buy and sell steeds as he went, but he never attached himself to the animals.

  He cursed as he turned, spying the flicker of torches proceeding towards them. It seemed that the keep had been surrendered and they had discovered that Annabel was not there. Now that the rebels had control of the keep, he doubted they would hunt hard for the Lady of Alderweald Castle but he could not risk discovery. Not after he had slaughtered three of their men.

  “Can you run?”

  Annabel looked at him in surprise. “Aye, but-”

  “Come then.”

  Nicholas snatched her hand for the second time that night and he tried to ignore the slight thrill her small hand in his gave him. The feeling angered him and he yanked her along more forcefully than he intended. Annabel yelped as she bundled up her skirts and attempted to keep up with him.

  They stumbled along at a fair pace. Nicholas estimated it would take at least a sennight to reach her uncle’s house if they kept it up, but he could see she was flailing. They couldn’t afford to use the well-worn roads between the villages, lest Annabel be recognised and given up to the rebels, and the path they took was rough and uneven. Several times Annabel flailed causing Nicholas to have to catch her.

  She issued a well-meaning apology each time, along with a luminous smile, and Nicholas responded with less and less displeasure as the night wore on. His experience of noble women had been limited in his adult life but those he had known were pampered, simpering creatures with little to recommend them. Annabel surprised him by issuing no complaints in spite of having been dragged out of her home in the middle of the night and forced to flee.

  Her fatigue became clear as Annabel stumbled and, instead of righting herself against his arms, she flopped upon him. An odd swelling sensation resounded in his chest and he looked at the small woman with something akin to compassion. The pale light of dawn forced its way over the horizon and highlighted the weariness in
her eyes.

  Drawing her off the muddied path, he seated her on a layer of damp leaves. She made no protest and Nicholas thought that she must have not have noticed the damp through her thick mantle, or was too tired to care. Certainly there were not many highborn ladies who would tolerate such treatment. Belatedly he realised he probably should have offered his mantle for her to sit upon, but he decided it was too late now. He could not claim to have knowledge of courtly manners but Annabel seemed to pay little heed.

  Untying the small satchel that hung from his belt, he pulled out some stale bread. He fully intended for them to eat properly soon once he could be sure the rebels had given up searching for her, but they could not continue with empty bellies.

  Breaking the bread, he silently handed her a piece and she granted him yet another smile.

  “I thank you, Sir.” She watched him as he stood and ate his meagre fare. “Will you not sit with me?”

  Nicholas looked into her generous eyes, highlighted by the increasing sunlight, and found himself seated next to her.

  “What is your name?”

  He stared at her as he paused mid-bite. Withdrawing the bread, he shifted uncomfortably.

  “My name is of no import, my lady.”

  “I would know the name of my rescuer.”

  He looked to the floor. “I am no rescuer, just a lowly knight doing his duty.”

  “Your modesty becomes you, Sir Knight, but I would still know your name.”

  Annabel awaited his response, the air between them growing uncomfortably thick.

  He heaved a sigh, wondering how it was that a diminutive woman had got the better of him. “Nicholas,” he grated out reluctantly.

  “Nicholas,” she repeated softly. “And I am Annabel.”

  “I know, my lady.”

  “Nay, Annabel. Not ‘my lady’. You have surely earned the right to address me as such.”

  He shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground once more. He could not bring himself to utter her name, not when he knew what was to come. “Nay, my lady, I am your servant and I will address you as a servant should.”

  Annabel must have sensed she was fighting a losing battle as she protested no more and fell silent. Nicholas risked sideways glances at her as her as she nibbled delicately on the hardened bread, and he realised he took far too much pleasure in the sight of her ample lips moving with each bite.

  Brushing the crumbs from her skirts, Nicholas watched, mesmerised, as she twisted her long braid over her shoulder. Tugging on the red ribbon that tied the end of the braid, it loosened, sending the length of her hair shimmering across her shoulders. It brushed the dirt and Nicholas felt his mouth dry as she touched a finger to his arm. Surrounded by a halo of hair, she glanced up at him, her mouth curling. Without a word, she tied the ribbon about his large arm and fussed with it until she was satisfied.

  Nicholas touched tentatively at the ribbon and gave her a perplexed look.

  “You saved my life, Nicholas. ‘Tis a favour from a lady to a knight.” She grinned at his confusion. “You have received favours before, surely? I would expect a knight of your valour to have championed many a lady.”

  He wondered if she was teasing him but her expression was completely guileless. He groaned inwardly. This woman probably believed wholeheartedly in courtly love. From his little experience he had come to conclude that it did not exist.

  “For fear of disappointing you, my lady, I am sorry to admit that there you are mistaken. I have championed no ladies.”

  “Well, ‘tis no matter,” she told him with a tender smile, “For you have championed me.”

  Unable to bare her dazzling eyes any longer, he stood abruptly. Champion? He laughed inwardly. She had no idea of the kind of man he was, and he was thoroughly aware that he was far removed from the heroic knights that minstrels and poets spoke of.

  He felt a pang of something, an uncomfortable sensation settling in his gut. Nicholas couldn’t name it but he didn’t like its implications. For all her naivety and gentle manners, this woman was going to be trouble. He felt threatened by her somehow, as if she had directly challenged him rather than quietly accepting his every word without question.

  “Are you ready to continue on, my lady?”

  Annabel sighed and stood, in spite of her obvious weariness. “I am in your hands, Nicholas. I will do whatever you command.”

  Nicholas tried to tamp down on the desire stirring in his loins at her words and failed. Instead, he grunted and turned away, stomping off without checking if she was following. The sooner this job was over, the better.

  ***

  Trekking after him, Annabel was glad that he had at least slowed down his pace. She was exhausted but fear had kept her going this far, worried that the rebels would indeed come after her.

  But fear was not the only thing that kept her moving. Somehow her dark protector’s presence had provided her with some much needed courage.

  It wasn’t just the protection Nicholas offered that inspired her to keep going, though she had been suitably impressed by his valour and battle skills. There was something simmering within the man that reached out to her. Annabel couldn’t place her finger on it. He was quiet and not exactly impolite, but his manners were certainly rough. However, there was a determination there that put her nerves at ease. She was certain that if Nicholas put his mind to something, he would achieve it. And that included keeping her safe.

  She watched his back move through the woods, his clinking chainmail soothing her spirits. He was quite handsome, she decided, once you looked past the black attire and stern brow, and his physique was much to be admired. With broad shoulders and strong legs outlined by black hose, she could see why her uncle would choose such a man to be her protector.

  Quickening her pace to catch up with him, he glanced at her briefly as she matched his pace.

  “Will we take rest soon?” she forced herself to ask, her fatigue prompting her to speak when it was clear he had no wish to converse.

  His dark gaze darted over her, mayhap taking in her tired state. She must look a sight with her unbound hair and dirtied yellow gown. Her mother would have scolded her terribly for wearing such a colour and she almost wished she had not chosen it for it drew attention to no end. In spite of this, Annabel had always loved vibrant colours and even as a child had insisted on wearing bright shades, even when she was told it would not suit her hair or pale skin.

  “Aye, soon enough. We shall have to sleep in the woods tonight.”

  “Why?”

  He paused for a moment, as if surprised by her questioning him, and she suspected he was not used to having his actions questioned. “‘Tis not safe to stay in any of the local villages - the rebels may well search them.”

  Annabel nodded thoughtfully. “And shall we sleep in the forest every night?”

  She didn’t relish the thought but at the moment she felt as if she could sleep anywhere and his logic was sound. They couldn’t risk staying somewhere where she would be known and she didn’t wish to bring danger to any of the local villages.

  “Nay, we shall find an inn further out.”

  Sighing in relief, she smiled at Nicholas as she caught him observing her out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze snapped away and she silently chuckled. For some reason, she disconcerted this brazen warrior and it delighted her somewhat. Mayhap it was her jovial temperament. Indeed he looked as though he rarely smiled and she hadn’t seen him release one yet. What could make a man so inexpressive? He interested her and she determined that she would learn more about him. After all they had a least a sennight together, she may as well occupy herself with something. Why not this elusive, striking man?

  ***

  They had walked mostly in silence through the forests, working their way through the tangled branches at a slightly more leisurely pace than before. Annabel’s skirts seemed to snag on every branch and Nicholas frequently had to pull them free. Her hands came upon his shoulders once as she struggle
d to maintain her balance while he ripped at her gown and Nicholas had to physically restrain himself from bolting away from her as her fingers pressed gently into his hauberk. He reasoned that he should not have even been aware of them through the thick mail but the impression was there nonetheless.

  Nicholas had been worried that she would chat incessantly, but Annabel seemed content to remain quiet, instead punctuating the silence with the odd observation. Nicholas was an expert at gleaning much from little and he had already discovered that an intelligent woman lay beneath her unworldly exterior as she spoke of the keep and her duties. He offered little in return, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  Dusk neared and Nicholas recognised that Annabel was close to collapse. Seeking out a relatively protected clearing, he led her into it before seating her to one side. She curled her legs beneath her, spreading out her skirts and folding her hands into her lap. Sunlight rippled through the trees, turning the world into a golden paradise and Nicholas wryly considered how well suited Annabel looked in the middle of it. It was as if she had banished the grim darkness of the forest and replaced it with her own version of heaven.

  Handing her the rest of their bread, he busied himself with finding kindling for a fire. Annabel shocked him by helping him as soon as she had finished with her bread. When would he stop being surprised by her?

  They settled almost companionably by the fire, Nicholas’ weariness taking the edge off his resistance to Annabel’s company.

  “Do you have a family, Nicholas?”

  He shook his head, before staring back at the flames.

  “None at all?”

  Nicholas sighed before reluctantly turning back to her. “None at all. My parent’s died when I was but a boy.”