The Angel's Assassin (3 page)

“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 struggled 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.”

Annabel nodded in
sympathy. “Then we have something in common. I am an orphan too.”

Nicholas snorted.
They had naught in common, she was a well-born lady and he was a rough knight,
who knew naught of sympathy. His stomach curdled at the very thought of someone
pitying him. He did not think he even knew
how
to feel something for
another person, but Annabel felt too much, wearing her every emotion openly.

Her startled
expression confused him and he realised he had probably offended her with his
derision.

“Forgive me, my
lady, I am sorry for your loss.”

She considered him
seriously, her grey eyes solemn, and for an instant he felt genuinely sorry for
upsetting her. The feeling was gone as fast as it arrived and he sighed
inwardly in relief.

“And I am sorry for
yours.”

“My lady?”

“I am sorry for
your loss too, Nicholas. It must have been difficult growing up without a
family.”

Nicholas watched
Annabel, his curiosity getting the better of him. How was it that she was so
open and trusting when she too had experienced the loss of her parents? His
childhood had been rough and gruelling, neglected by a godfather who had
begrudgingly taken on a quiet young boy. He had spent much of his time
starving, doing whatever he could to survive and he had known naught of love or
any kind of emotion other than apathy.