The Angel's Assassin

by Samantha Holt

  She didn’t doubt the strength of his feelings. They were clearly visible in his every expression and every touch, but he was attempting to hide them by drawing up a barrier of indifference. Annabel couldn’t decide if it was honour or fear that caused him to react in such a way. He seemed to want to protect her from his attentions, which led her to believe that it must be for her sake that he resisted her. But also she noted the unease that seemed to shroud him. Annabel concluded that after a life devoid of love, he was frightened by his feelings for her.

  She frightened her brave dark knight!

  It would have amused her if it wasn’t for the distance that it put between them.

  Drawing herself into a corner, she could do little but wait and pray. He would come back for her, that much she knew, but what if something happened to him? Trying to summon her usual optimism, she thought back to the tender kiss they had shared and it filled her with warmth once again. Anxious to experience more, she determined that as soon as he returned she was going to work her way back through his defences, and this time he would find it impossible to retreat back into his fortress of detachment.

  ***

  Godestone was well known to Nicholas and he often frequented the inn there when travelling between the Surrey and Kent. It was large enough to afford him anonymity but he would have to take care, for he thought it likely Godfrey could still be on his trail.

  The walls surrounding the town were made of stone and a small gatehouse kept control of the people going in and out. Fortunately, Nicholas was well used to gaining access without anyone taking notice and the walls of Godestone were barely taller than him in places. For someone of Nicholas’ agility and stealth, it was just a matter of finding a foothold in the stones and hauling himself over.

  With a thud of his boots and a puff of dirt, he landed on the other side. The thatched cottages were close together, their uneven walls almost touching in places and they provided plenty of cover for him to casually stroll through until he reached the main road.

  In the centre of Godestone was a larger path which led directly down the middle of it, dissecting it in half. At one end was a motte and bailey castle, watching carefully over the town. The wooden structure was surrounded by palisades, providing a safe haven in times of war.

  The town centre was busy, the market attracting visitors from the small villages that skirted Godestone. The smell of livestock and cramped living quarters were ripe in the air but occasionally the smell of freshly baked bread would permeate it.

  Picking up some supplies, he had them wrapped so he could carry them. His thoughts frequently turned to Annabel as he pushed past the swarming bodies, ensuring to keep his head down. She would love the bustling atmosphere and no doubt the market sellers would love her in return. She had a unique ability to charm anyone. Even a man with no heart, he thought mockingly.

  He questioned as to how he would ever part from her. She was like a craving and there was no cure. She consumed him, body and soul, and his heart ached for her sweet touch and charming words. His jaw clenched as he considered how much longer he was going to have resist her for. Nicholas was unsure if he could even survive another night in her tempting company. His cold attitude had done little to dampen the heat that bloomed between them and, instead of being discouraged, she seemed more determined than ever to break through his defences. Little did she know how close he was to snapping.

  Hopefully he would at least have his answers this night as to what their next steps should be. He kept a contact here, one with open ears and a closed mouth. With the steady flow of people travelling through Godestone mayhap there would be some news on Alderweald or the perplexing behaviour of Lord Benedict. He did not like going blind against an enemy that he didn’t understand. Particularly when the stakes were so high.

  Working his way through the streets to the alehouse, he pushed open the battered door and placed himself discretely in one corner. This inn was a far cry from the one in Edenbridge. Its furniture was battered and broken, the result of many a drunken fight, and the fare was basic. Nicholas avoided the food here. Usually it was left to simmer for days on end, scraps of meat and vegetables thrown in as and when they became available. Many a man had eaten here and died after their body could do naught but purge the filth.

  The rushes reeked of ale, rotten food and bodily fluids and Nicholas wrinkled his nose unwittingly. Too much time in Annabel’s company had made him sensitive to the smell, he decided, as it never normally bothered him.

  After several hours of nursing a stale ale, his contact entered the alehouse. Spying Nicholas, the lanky man gave him a nod of acknowledgement before settling on a stool opposite him.

  Nicholas signalled to the serving wench, who brought over two fresh tankards of ale.

  His companion eyed her abundant cleavage before taking a long, messy slurp of ale and Nicholas watched him with detachment.

  Albin was a drunkard, but he was reliable. People paid little heed to him and talked openly, assuming he was too inebriated to pay any attention. But while he was reliant on his ale, he was astute enough to know that information meant coin, and coin meant more ale.

  “What say you, Albin?”

  The small man hunched over the table, licking at his lips, his limp hair failing across his face in greasy brown strands. “There’s been much turmoil afoot. The rebels ‘ave taken many a town but they say the tide is turning. Rufus ‘as already taken back Tonbridge an’ the church supports ‘im.”

  So Benedict had been right, the rebellion was doomed to fail.

  “Have you news of Alderweald?”

  “Ah, that plump fief. ‘Tis under the control of a lord now. The rebels saw ‘im coming an’ scarpered.”

  Nicholas considered this. How was it that Benedict had managed to evict the rebels? He had himself witnessed their violence and determination. He could not see them capitulating with such ease.

  “You know the name of this lord?” Nicholas was sure that it had to be Benedict but he wanted to see if Albin knew aught else.

  “Nay, all I know is he came down from London and talk of treachery follows ‘im.”

  Nicholas nodded. Were the tales of treachery linked to Benedict or Annabel? He knew not, but at least he could be sure Benedict was not in Priorsdene. With his skills he could easily sneak into the manor house and unearth any evidence of treachery. He suspected Benedict had concocted a deal with the rebels, likely playing both sides of this rebellion. If he could unearth the truth behind the lord’s plans, he could keep Annabel safe and clear her name.

  Slapping some coin into Albin’s scraggy hands, he got up swiftly. “Farewell, Albin.”

  Albin nodded and ogled the coin greedily. “Aye, my thanks to ye.”

  Nicholas hastened away, eager to return to Annabel. He doubted anyone would come across her but he knew he would not be happy until she was in his sight. His heart skipped slightly at the thought of seeing her again. God’s blood, how would he ever part with her?

  ***

  The sound of cracking branches made Annabel jump. Unable to see who was approaching in the darkness of the night, she pulled herself tightly against the wall, the thump of her heart hammering in her ears.

  The meagre light of the night was blocked by a shadow in the doorway and Annabel gulped, her mouth going dry.

  “Annabel?”

  Her legs almost gave way with relief and she hurtled towards Nicholas, flinging her arms around his neck.

  Nicholas gave a sound of surprise before cautiously wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “I feared you would not come back for me.”

  “I would not leave you, Annabel,” he told her sincerely into her hair.

  “I know,” she said breathlessly. “But I was worried for you. What if you had been hurt or...or worse?”

  He drew back, hooking a finger under her chin and sweeping her hair from her face with his other hand. “You need not fear for me, sweet one.”

  She smiled, realising h
ow silly she had sounded. Here was a brave, strong warrior who had survived many years without a woman worrying for him.

  Nicholas dropped his gaze as he drew a package from his belt. Handing it awkwardly to her, she stared at it for a moment before untying it.

  A flutter of gold fabric escaped and Annabel gasped as she drew out the silk gown. Though it was dark, it shimmered under the moonlight that slipped in through the gaps in the roof and Annabel fingered the expensive fabric with delight.

  “‘Tis beautiful, Nicholas.” She gave him a skewed smile. “You have good taste for a battle hardened knight.”

  Even in the dark, Annabel could tell his face had likely reddened. His thoughtfulness touched her. She was keen to be rid of the smoke saturated chemise and the gown was truly stunning. Fit for far more than a night in the woods, the delicate embroidery spoke of a great deal of expense.

  It was not the coin he must have spent that really touched her though; it was that he must have paid a great deal of attention to her taste and wants. Annabel could have very easily chosen something like this herself and she was gratified that he already seemed to understand her so well.

  “Will you give me a moment to put it on?”

  Nicholas nodded brusquely, retreating out of the hut quickly in an effort to hide his embarrassment. He had never given a woman a gift before and he had felt apprehensive when giving it to her, but her look of delight had brought a warmth into his heart that he had never experienced before. He had only intended to get her something simple and warm but the gown had reminded him of Annabel, gold and sparkling. It had cost him plenty of coin, mayhap more than it was really worth, but he knew if he had the chance he would happily spend his entire fortune on pretty gowns if it garnered the same reaction.

  But it wouldn’t be up to him. Nicholas had to remind himself of that. He was to protect her, naught more.

  “Nicholas?” Annabel’s voice beckoned to him, curling around his heart.

  He took a deep breath, sucking in the cool, crisp air, hoping it would provide him with the necessary courage to face her. Each moment in her presence was making it harder and harder to fight the sweet temptation of her beguiling kisses. His strength to resist was steadily waning, but he knew he had to be strong. It was not intended for someone like him to receive the honour of her affections. They were undoubtedly misplaced and she would realise that if she understood his true nature. But he could not reveal it to her, for she would surely send him away and then how would he fulfil his duty to protect her?

  Turning around, he dipped his head to enter through the small doorway of the hut. Though it was dark, Annabel seemed to shine through the gloom, all available light glinting off her flaxen hair and golden gown. As she heard his footfalls, she turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder.

  “Will you help me with the laces?”

  As if he could say nay. “Aye.”

  Moving to her side, she lifted her arm as he twisted the laces up her side with trembling hands. Annabel watched him as he did so, her bright eyes never leaving his face.

  “Stop.” she said softly.

  He halted, his jaw ticking as he clenched it. Unable to meet her doe-eyed gaze, he stared at the ties in his hands. Annabel twisted around to face him and he let the laces fall from his grasp. Her hand reached up and grazed across his jaw, drawing his eyes to hers. The milky expanse of one shoulder was just visible and his gaze darted down, drawn to the enchanting sight of bare skin.

  Nicholas’ hand shot out before he had even realised was he was doing and it hovered above her shoulder, itching to touch it. The heat of her skin seemed to penetrate the gap and his hand shook with restraint.

  “Am I so repellent that you cannot even touch me?”

  He looked at her in surprise and noticed a hint of vulnerability dancing in her expression. “God, nay,” he rasped.

  His hand closed the gap in a sudden rush of movement, pulling a gasp from her while he groaned at the feel of soft flesh under his hand.

  Shifting her shoulder slightly, her gown slipped further down one side, suspended just over her breast. The rosy edge of her nipple was just visible and he trembled from head to toe at the sight, unable to tear his gaze away. Her breaths came rapidly as she moved closer to him, causing his hand to drop. His thumb dipped underneath her gown and rubbed unsteadily over her hardened nipple.

  Annabel sighed and closed her eyes as he caressed over her aching breast. When he made no efforts to go any further, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her in reverence. She knew he felt the same way, she could feel it in her heart. She was determined to conquer whatever it was that prevented him from revealing his feelings to her tonight.

  With a slight shrug of her shoulder, her bliaut slipped completely off her breast and Nicholas stared in awe, his dark hand still covering the unsteady beat of her heart. Ever so slowly, he moved to cup at it and Annabel felt the thrill of victory thunder through her.

  A growl quaked through the small hut and she realised it had resonated from Nicholas as his face took on an expression of wild anguish. She thought he would stop then, and turn her away once more, but he didn’t. He just gulped and shook with tension as his hand remained cupped around her bared breast.

  Licking at her lips, her voice trembled. “Will you deny me now?”

  He shook his head rapidly. “I can deny you naught. But you should not offer me this; I am too weak a man to say nay.”

  Annabel reached up to cup his jaw, forcing him to look upon her. “You are not weak. You have a strong heart.”

  Nicholas cursed and buried his fingers in her hair, pulling her to him for a kiss. His lips skimmed across hers, nibbling and sucking as if she were some rare delicacy and her legs quivered at the intensity of it. Her bared nipple chafed against his shirt and she moaned at the exquisite sensation. He absorbed her moan, probing his tongue into her mouth and she met it with relish.

  Her hands skimmed down to his belt and she undid it slowly, unwilling to rush a single moment. It dropped to the floor with a thud and he drew back to allow her access to his shirt. Carefully, she loosened the laces at the neck, all the while never leaving his glittering black gaze. As she leant forwards, he brushed a kiss across her forehead, sweeping his thumb across her cheek. Together, they yanked his shirt over his head and she smiled at the rumpled image he made, with his short hair in disarray and a helpless expression stamped on his face.

  She stared at him as he straightened, his muscular chest flexing with every breath. It seemed daunting now, in spite of the thick darkness that cloaked them, and though she longed to reach out and run her fingers through the dark hair that was scattered across the broadness, Annabel found herself hesitating. There would be no going back after this.

  A glance to his face bolstered her resolve. She wanted this man. As confusing and as guarded as he was, she knew what her heart told her, and it told her that he was her fate. His determination and focus drew her to him and his devotion to her safety revealed all she needed to know.

  Extending her hand out, her fingers played in the coarse hair, tracing it down the ridges of his stomach. Nicholas’ muscles contracted under her touch and she could hear the harsh rasp of his breath, but he remained motionless, allowing her exploration of him. Her other hand joined in now, skimming over his collar bone until she flattened both palms over his chest.

  His throat worked as she traced her finger down it before placing a kiss at the base of his neck, where his pulse flickered erratically. Bringing his hands up to clutch her head to him, she nuzzled into his smooth skin, inhaling the musky scent of him, and he dipped his head to nip at her ear, his hot breath sending shivers coursing through her.

  Nicholas yearned to pull down her gown and reveal her full beauty but he couldn’t bring himself to. Mayhap he thought he could absolve himself of any responsibility if he did not. He mocked himself inwardly, he knew full well where this was heading and didn’t doubt it would damn his soul to hell for certain. But how
was he meant to resist an angel and the heavenly pleasure she offered him? How could he resist the woman that had carved herself into his heart without even trying?

  She must have sensed his uncertainty because she gently drew his hand towards the neckline of her gown, urging him to pull it the rest of the way down. His resistance crumbled and he tugged it down revealing her other breast. His brow beaded at the sight - she was more beautiful than he had remembered. His brief glance at her hadn’t done her sweet curves justice and he wondered how he would ever sleep again. The wild imaginings that had tormented since the day by the river would now only be exacerbated.

  With a mere flick of a finger, the fabric slid from her hips and crumpled onto the floor. Nicholas’ knees nearly buckled at the sight, her long limbs and shapely hips seemed made for the touch of a man’s hands. For the touch of his hands. The last of his restraint dissipated then - no mere mortal could resist such temptation - and he bundled her to him, savouring the feel of her smooth skin against his. Annabel wriggled so that his coarse chest hair scraped over her nipples as he skewed his mouth across hers, and his fingers pressed into her back.

  Annabel whimpered at the friction and he hissed as her hips shifted to meet his, pushing against his rigid manhood. Nicholas felt as though he may explode at any moment, so exquisite was the sensation of her skin upon his. Dying to feel her against him in her entirety, he dragged his hands from her hair and quickly yanked down his braies and hose. He heard her breath catch and he wondered if he had scared her. Seeking out her eyes in the gloom, she stared at him with wide-eyed awe. It humbled him to be on the receiving end of such a look.

  Tentatively, she reached out and carefully explored the length of him. There was no embarrassment in her movements, just a chaste fascination. Nicholas restrained himself from thrusting into her hand but she could never know how much willpower it took. He dare not frighten her away for he was sure it would be the undoing of him, having reached this point.

  Her hand curled around him. “Did I do this to you?”