The Angel's Assassin

by Samantha Holt

  “Will you not sit with me, Edith? ‘Tis too quiet here for my liking and I would enjoy the company.”

  Edith hesitated, wringing her hands in her apron before placing herself precariously onto the bench.

  “Is it normally this quiet here?” Annabel asked as she tore up the hard bread, dipping it into the potage in an attempt to soften it. She was famished, so she made light work of the tough bread.

  “Nay, milady, though we see few ladies such as yerself. ‘Tis normally pilgrims that seek shelter ‘ere. I think it likely that people are not travelling for fear of leaving their homes unprotected. We have ‘eard much of the rebel’s plundering ways.”

  “Aye, ‘tis true. My own home fell to the rebels - I am seeking refuge in Hampshire.”

  Edith’s face softened in sympathy and her rigid posture relaxed. “I’m sorry to ‘ear that, milady. I have family in ‘ampshire.”

  Annabel smiled between a bite of bread. “Oh, perchance you know of my uncle, Lord Benedict of Priorsdene?”

  The maid gave Annabel an odd look followed by a tight smile. “Aye, I know of him.”

  “You do not care for him?”

  Edith looked flustered, a rash of colour filling her wrinkled cheeks. “Nay, milady, I mean…”

  “‘Tis well enough, Edith. He is not kindest of men - that much I know - but he has been good to me this past year.”

  “Oh, I do not know him personally, milady. I have just ‘eard…forgive me, I speak out of turn.” Edith looked at her lap, folding her hands into her apron.

  Annabel was struck by curiosity. What was it that Edith did not want to tell her? Had something happened to him during the rebellion? Mayhap the rebels had taken hold of Priorsdene too.

  “Edith, I shall not scold you for honest words. Pray tell, what have you heard? I should like to know how things fare in Hampshire.”

  Edith chewed on her lip before meeting Annabel’s beseeching gaze. “We ‘ad some travellers pass through not two days ago from Priorsdene. ‘Tis said that Lord Benedict has all but deserted the manor and taken most of the men-at-arms with ‘im. The villagers fear for their safety.”

  Annabel frowned. Why would he ask her to join him if he was not going to be there?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Aye, milady. There is…there is talk of treachery.”

  Unable to conceal her surprise, Annabel gasped. “Surely not!”

  “Forgive me, milady. I did not mean to upset ye.”

  Annabel placed a hand on Edith’s arm, realising that she had pushed the maid to tell her far more than she wanted. “Nay, I thank you, Edith. I am sure the rumours are unfounded but I am glad to have been forewarned of them. Mayhap I shall be able to apprise my uncle of them and ensure his name is not sullied. There must be a good reason for him to have left Priorsdene,” she said with more certainty than she felt.

  Edith still looked uncomfortable as she stood and motioned to Annabel’s bowl. “Are ye finished, milady?”

  Annabel contemplated the empty bowl for a moment with a frown. “Aye, of course.”

  Taking the bowl in hand, Annabel quickly realised that Edith would not be keeping her company for the eve - mayhap too fearful of more questions. Annabel could not blame her, no maid liked to be caught gossiping.

  “Sleep well, milady. I shall return in the morrow to help you dress and,” She eyed Annabel’s long hair with worry, “…do your hair.”

  With a grateful smile, Annabel nodded. “Good night, Edith.”

  ***

  As Annabel sank appreciatively onto her pallet, her thoughts turned to Nicholas. Where was he now? Was he sleeping or did he lie awake thinking of her? She shook her head and tried to dismiss her foolish thoughts but they would not abate. She missed him. No matter how ridiculous the notion that she should miss such an introverted man seemed, she could not shake it. His absence left an odd ache within her.

  Edith’s words about her uncle plagued her as well. Why would he leave Priorsdene at a time like this? There would have to be good reason for him to leave his villeins at risk. And treachery? Surely not!

  Sleep slowly claimed her, her exhaustion finally overtaking her overwrought mind, but she slept poorly, awoken by the bell for Matins and Lauds. She was grateful she did not have to join the nuns in prayer but it still disturbed her much needed rest.

  Edith woke her early for mass and helped her pull on her dirty gown. Annabel grumbled as she was dressed. Morning never did suit her and she was confident that the Lord have never intended for people to rise so early. Her spirits rose when Edith helped her rinse her hair over a bowl and started to pull a comb through it. It was tangled beyond belief but the maid was gentle and Annabel felt almost refreshed once her hair was rid of its knots. After their conversation the night before, Edith was quiet and Annabel knew it was her persistent need for answers that had been the cause.

  Having attended Mass and broken her fast with some bread, cheese and dried fruit, Annabel was escorted out of the gate house. A great sense of relief washed over her as she left the quiet confines of the convent. Sister Margaret bid her a soft goodbye and carefully closed the gate behind her.

  Atop a grey rouncey awaited Nicholas, looking as expressionless as ever. Annabel could not help but feel a little flutter of anticipation and pleasure at the sight of him. It was odd indeed that Annabel had found no companionship in a convent of women yet felt almost joyous at the sight of such a stern man.

  With ease, he dismounted the large mare and Annabel admired his agility mayhap a little too openly. She was aware she was probably staring at him with a starry-eyed expression more suited to a young girl than a grown woman, but she could not seem to help herself.

  “My lady,” he greeted her with a bow of his head, his eyes fastening onto hers.

  Did she just imagine the glint of pleasure in them?

  “Nicholas, ‘tis good to see you. I feared you may change your mind and leave me here.”

  “Did you not rest well, my lady?”

  “Oh, well enough, but I am ill-suited to such a peaceful way of life I fear. I shall pray that I never have need to join a convent for I would make a terrible nun!”

  Nicholas tilted his head slightly and looked at her uncertainly. She grinned and shook her head at him. It amused her how such a great warrior seemed daunted by her mirth. Peering around him, she took in the steed.

  “She is beautiful. You told me you did not normally ride; may I ask why we are to ride now?”

  Nicholas shifted uncomfortably. “We have far to go my lady, ‘twould not do for you to be exhausted when we reach Lord Benedict’s.”

  “Well, I thank you, Nicholas.”

  He dipped his head again in acknowledgement before mounting once more. Holding his gloved hand out, Annabel took it, gasping as he easily pulled her onto the saddle, settling her across it. His strength surprised her for some unknown reason. She was thoroughly aware of the muscles that lay hidden beneath his hauberk but to be on the receiving end of such strength seemed to stir something deep within her.

  His arms came around her, not quite touching but close enough to provide reassurance, and his chest pressed into her back as he prodded the mare on. A surge of awareness filtered through her and every part of her body seemed to tingle in response.

  They continued up the muddy road, passing the few cottages that clung onto the walls of the abbey, until they reached open fields. Annabel welcomed the sight of open land, unsure of how she would cope being so close to Nicholas in the shadowy confines of the forests. Briefly she considered that her reaction could be due to the fact that she had never been this close to another man before, with the exception of family. However, she quickly dismissed that idea seeing as it was not only the touch of his body that incited strange reaction within her but his presence too. She had spoken with many handsome knights and lords before, but never felt even the slightest bit disconcerted.

  Little conversation took place. It was not easy to converse with the heavy p
ounding of the mare’s hooves in her ears, and the jostling gait stole her breath. She forgot how much work simply riding was. Occasionally Nicholas would enquire after her, his gruff voice brushing over her ear, and she found that all she could do was nod meekly.

  The rouncey carried them easily over the gentle hills until the white clouds in the sky began to converge and darken. Nicholas must have taken note because he directed the horse towards the oak trees that ran along the top of the sloped meadowland. A muddy path carved its way through, just wide enough for a single mount.

  Hazel trees lined their route, scattered in amongst the larger oak trees, and intermittently threatening to scratch and tear at them. Nicholas guided the rouncey slowly through, gallantly holding aside any branches so that Annabel would emerge unscathed.

  The weather finally gave way to a light drizzle and, though the trees protected them from the worst of it, Annabel could feel the damp begin to seep into her clothes. She shivered slightly and subtly burrowed back into Nicholas. A slight grunt sounded from him and she decided the mayhap she had not been as careful as she had hoped.

  However, instead of moving away from her, he pulled his long mantle around them, tucking it underneath her chin and thrusting his arm out from underneath it to take the reins once more. Swathed in the dark material and pressed against his unrelenting chest, Annabel wondered if it was the thick cloth or the knowledge of his proximity that caused her body to heat.

  Nicholas was beginning to question his reasoning behind purchasing the mount. Telling himself that the sooner their journey was over the better, he had bartered with a local man for the steed, spending enough coin so that this job was going to bring little profit. He had hoped to speed up their journey and end his time with Annabel. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the odd sensations she caused. A vague part of him considered that mayhap he wished her to spend these few days in comfort but he quickly tamped down that notion.

  With her bottom nestling into him and her sweet fragrance washing over him, he realised what a mistake he had made. His desire for her seemed to be intensifying, yet it was no normal attraction. Nicholas had never been so preoccupied with a woman or so intimidated by whatever sway it was that she held over him.

  They pushed on through the forest until the rain eased, Nicholas’ discomfort growing with each moment. Annabel’s hair tickled at his cheek as he leant over to check on her. He tried to prevent himself from doing so, telling himself there was no need, but somehow he could not resist. The sweet softness of her cheeks taunted him as she tilted her head towards him, murmuring her assurances.

  The rain eased and Nicholas made for the open roads once more, knowing they would make better time. He hoped to reach an inn he knew of with a fair repute before dusk. Annabel slept intermittently, her head lolling against his chest and occasionally slipping to one side, where he would have to push her back upright for fear of her tumbling off altogether. She would murmur and mumble before burrowing back into him and Nicholas’ body began to ache with tension as he attempted to resist her soft body.

  The day became hazy as the sun lowered in the sky and Annabel seemed to become restless from their long journey, having only stopped briefly for food and drink. Her unique vibrant energy seemed to simmer within her, no longer subdued by exhaustion. She stretched languorously, arching her body into him and he bit back a grunt.

  “We shall be at the inn within the hour, my lady. You can take rest then.”

  Annabel turned slightly towards him, meeting his eyes briefly and affording him a long look at her profile. “I fear I have slept too much this day. All this travelling has had rather the opposite effect of wearying me and now I feel as if I could walk miles.”

  Nicholas flicked his eyes away from her creamy skin and stared straight ahead, unsure of how to respond to her statement.

  “Do you travel a lot, Nicholas?”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you not find it a lonesome existence? I suppose you have no land either?”

  He stiffened slightly at this. “I have land.”

  And lonesome? Nay, he did not find it lonesome. Or did he? It had never bothered him before, drifting from one job to the next, but with Annabel in his arms he struggled to remember why he lived the life he did.

  “Forgive me, I meant no offense. I presumed a knight like yourself would not wish to encumber himself with the burdens of land ownership. Is it your family lands?”

  “Aye, but I have not been there for many years.”

  He had not set foot in his family home in a decade and had intention of ever doing so. As far as he knew, his godfather had all but installed himself as Lord of the Manor and he could stay there for all he cared. He felt little attachment to the place that he could not wait to escape from as a child.

  A slim hand reached out from the dark mantle and wrapped itself carefully around his gloved hand. He jolted, but remained still, allowing her touch to rest. He stared at the sight of her diminutive fingers upon his large hand before quickly snapping back to the horizon. Nicholas couldn’t quite understand why he allowed her tentative touch to remain, but allow it he did.

  “You wish to escape the memories,” she stated simply.

  He scowled, drawing in a harsh breath, and felt grateful that she had her back to him. How did this woman see so far into his thoughts? For someone of so few years, she had an uncanny talent for reading people. For reading him. Which begged the question, how was it that she had not seen him for what he really was?

  Chapter 4

  With a curl of his lips and a snarl on his tongue, Lord Benedict stormed away from the king’s castle. He’d be lucky if he could get away with killing the damned wretch now! The king would not be persuaded that his darling Lady Annabel would turn traitor. Instead, he had questioned Benedict’s motives and instructed him to find Annabel and bring her to his side. His carefully concocted plan was unravelling at the seams. Even with the knowledge that Annabel had all but handed the rebels her keep, Rufus refused to be swayed. Evidence, he had said. Evidence! Now it was up to Benedict to get that proof he needed to ensure Alderweald would be firmly in his grasp.

  God’s teeth, he was a fool. He had let his temper and open disdain for Annabel get the better of him. If he had only played the role of loving uncle then none of this would have come to pass. He could have stepped in easily without the faintest hint of suspicion. But Rufus was a dangerous man to have as an enemy and he dare not cross him openly. Nay, he would gather his evidence and allow the law of the land to decide Annabel’s fate.

  As for the assassin? He would have to go. He was one more loose end that he didn’t need. The man may think his anonymity protected him but he had underestimated Benedict’s reach. He had enough men in his pocket to see that he would not only remain nameless but lifeless too.

  Motioning to one of his men-at-arms with a finger, he waited until the man reached his side.

  “Where was Godfrey, when we heard from him last?”

  “Not far from the outskirts of the Weald, milord. He was awaiting instructions at the inn in Edenbridge.”

  “I need a message sent to him, and quickly. We have little time to waste. Use one of the messenger pigeons. Tell him we are moving on to Alderweald and to dispose of the nameless one. Let us see if we cannot evict these rebels ourselves.”

  ***

  They approached the village along the river, the silver mare following its meandering course with ease. A wooden bridge allowed them to cross the river and enter into the small village. Signs of the wooden Saxon walls still remained but no-one had bothered to erect a stone wall, Edenbridge being only a small settlement with little wealth or power.

  There was no keep here, only a modest manor house, and the peasant’s homes were worn, the wattle and daub huts in need of repair. In spite of this, a sense of joviality hung in the air as the villeins scurried from hut to hut, carrying all manner of goods.

  Annabel watched them with curiosity. “What are they doing?
”

  “‘Tis Hocktide, my lady.” Nicholas replied with disinterest.

  Annabel was startled by this. She had not realised that Hocktide was already upon them. A time of celebration and play, Alderweald had always enjoyed this day. The villeins would take two days from their work and much feasting took place. Though Annabel was aware traditions varied from place to place, in Alderweald much fun was had when the village women were bound by the men and offered their freedom in return for coin. The next day, the same would be done to the men and their coin given to the parish funds. She wondered how Alderweald was faring now it was under the hand of the rebels. Her heart ached with sorrow briefly, allowing a melancholy rarely felt to resonate within her.

  Nicholas seemed to sense her brief drop in spirits and murmured in her ear, causing her to shudder.

  “There shall be much revelry tonight; mayhap you would like to join in?”

  Annabel perked at the thought. Some time spent dancing and feasting would surely help her regain her usual positive outlook.

  “Aye, I should like that very much.”

  “You shall need to stay within my sight, my lady.”

  Annabel lips twisted with amusement. “I suppose you shall be watching over me carefully, and what fun will there to be had then?”

  “I shall be. ‘Tis my job,” he told her perfunctorily.

  Annabel laughed, aware Nicholas didn’t understand the she was teasing, but even as she did so she felt a great sadness for the knight. How was it that he was unable take pleasure in aught? Mayhap tonight she could show him the joy that could be found in life.

  The inn now stood in front of them, standing rather more proudly than the shabby homes that surrounded it. It was a two storey building with outer stairs leading to what Annabel assumed was the guest rooms. A large stable indicated that most of the travellers were wealthy people, likely travelling through to London and Hampshire. The deep pockets of its guests probably explained why it looked in better repair than the rest of the village.