The Angel's Assassin (4 page)

He shook his head,
not wanting her pity. “I knew no different.”

“Mayhap not, but
everyone should experience love at least once.”

He shrugged. “‘Tis
of no import. Perchance your parents loved you very much, my lady?”

She nodded sadly.
“Aye, that they did. I am not unaware that they doted on me and many think of
me as spoilt, but how can loving someone been seen as spoiling them?”

Nicholas remained
silent, not feeling as if he could comment on emotions such as love.

“Although I
frustrated my father to no end,” she continued. “He wanted to see me taken care
of but he believed I would never find a husband that lived up to my ideals. My
notions of life were too hopeful for his tastes, I fear.”

Nicholas had
speculated as to how a woman like Annabel was yet unmarried. She was beautiful
and accomplished. Were all the men in Kent fools? If she was too demanding as
to what traits her betrothed should have then that may explain the lack of a
husband.

“You have yet to
find a husband that fulfils these ideals then, my lady?” he asked with a
spiteful tinge to his voice, attempting to put some distance between them.

Annabel laughed
lightly, not noticing or ignoring his tone as her cheeks flamed. “Nay, it pains
me to say I have not had the opportunity to see if anyone measures up to my
expectations.”

Nicholas’ brow creased
in confusion, causing her to laugh again.

“I have had no
requests for my hand, Nicholas.”

His brows darted
up. There was no way it was possible for such a lady not to have received a
single betrothal request. Then it occurred to him, as her guardian, her uncle
likely controlled these matters, so any man wishing for Annabel’s hand would
have to petition him. If Lord Benedict wanted Alderweald Castle he would have
little chance of gaining it if Annabel took a husband.

“You need not
appear surprised, Nicholas. Mayhap I am too plain and idealistic. But ‘tis no
matter, I am well enough on my own.”

“Plain?” Nicholas
choked. “My lady, you are a fine beauty. ‘Twould take a fool to think
otherwise.”

He struggled to
believe that Annabel thought herself plain. Her gentle beauty would pull at
most men’s hearts and he had to admit, albeit reluctantly, it had even struck a
chord in his own dead one.

“Do you try to
appeal to my vanity?” she asked teasingly.

“Nay, I do not
think it possible. I speak merely the truth.”

Annabel tilted her
head as she pondered his words. “I thank you, good sir, I shall not preen and
simper under your compliments as I fear you would not appreciate it, but your
words are valued no less.”

He nodded briefly,
grateful the exchange had ended. His mouth had seemed to run away with him, his
sense of control slowly slipping beyond his grasp, and it made him tremendously
uncomfortable. How long had they been running? A mere two nights. And already
he had revealed more to her than any other person alive. Still, that would be
resolved soon enough, he surmised morbidly.

“You should sleep
now, my lady.”

Disappointment
flickered over her face in the firelight and Nicholas wondered what he had done
wrong. Women were not exactly his strong point but in truth people generally
confused him. They were so governed by their emotions. Love…hate…he didn’t
understand any of it.

As Annabel settled
herself in her mantle Nicholas rubbed a hand across his brow, watching her
surreptitiously beneath it. She curled up, tucking her gentle hands beneath her
head and glancing up at him with a shy smile before closing her eyes.

Once he was assured
he would not be subject to any more of her disconcerting scrutiny, he relaxed a
little, throwing one arm across his knee and dropping his head slightly. He
wouldn’t sleep. The forests were too dangerous for that but he was used to
functioning with little rest, moving from job to job.  

Even as a boy he
had taken to wandering off for days on end. His guardian had paid little
interest to his whereabouts, more often than not grateful to be rid of such a
solemn child. It reached the point where his godfather would be angry if he
came across him and Nicholas spent more and more time away from home, fending
for himself until such a time came that he could be fostered to another family
to learn the ways of a knight.

As a child he had
pondered as to why his parent’s would leave him in the custody of such an
uncaring man, but he knew virtually naught of his mother and father so mayhap
they were no different. Nicholas scowled into the glow of the flames. Such
thoughts rarely occurred to him as an adult and, with a look to his slumbering
charge, he realised that it was Annabel who was the source of his reflections.

He tried to resist
glances to her as she slumbered but his eyes were relentlessly drawn towards
her. She fidgeted constantly and he kept expecting her to awaken, but she
remained asleep, small mewling noises escaping her lips and making him jump in
the silence of the night. Her graceless manner of sleeping would have amused
him, if he had been capable of taking enjoyment in such things. Her mouth
dropped open and he shook his head. How did she still manage to look so
exquisite when anyone else would have looked a fool?

His thoughts became
more jumbled as he fought the urge to sleep and images of Annabel haunted his
mind. Warm and willing in his arms, laughing and joyful. Then, as he pulled
himself back out, the nature of his duty would return to him and the images
would be replaced with more morbid ones. He clenched his jaw. It seemed a shame
that such a bright light should be snuffed out by his own hand. But why should
he care? Before long she would be one more nameless, faceless person in his
mind and he would be doing her a favour. Light and laughter had no place in
this world.

Annabel grumbled
slightly as she tossed from one side to the other and he stared at her grimly.
It would be painless, he decided. If he could do but one thing for her, then he
would make it easy. And for him. For he did not want to see the trust in her
eyes shattered as she recognised his betrayal of her.

A stabbing ache in her back and the
invasive light of day woke Annabel, and she groaned as she pried her lids open.
Biting back an unladylike curse, she struggled up to sitting and rubbed at her
bleary eyes. She had never slept in the woods before and she certainly didn’t
enjoy it. More used to a soft straw mattress, every twig and stone seemed to
jab into her and her body ached everywhere. As she stretched and absently ran a
hand through her tangled hair, a shudder trekked down her spine and she turned
her head to see Nicholas watching her with a slight frown. As her eyes locked
onto his, she felt a flush rise in her cheeks but he revealed no embarrassment
at being caught out and she turned away quickly before he noticed her blush.

What an uncommon
man he was! Annabel had to admit he fascinated her, and not just because of his
handsome face. There was something in his eyes that made her stomach flip.
While his face betrayed little or no emotion, something raw and untenable
seemed to hang in that dark gaze.

She suspected his
closed down manner was due to his lonely childhood. Aye, he’d told her little
except that he was orphaned at a young age, but she could tell there was pain
there. No matter how deep he had buried it. So deep that even he wasn’t aware
of it.

Annabel felt
foolish, when she’d recognised that hurt, for trying to compare them. Her
parents had died within months of one another - her father seemed to give up
after her mother died of illness - but she had eighteen summers of love and
wonderful memories to sustain her. How would she have differed had she not
known such love?

The love that her
parent’s had shared and had devoted to her, had made her determined that she
would only ever marry for love. However, embarrassingly enough, what she had
told Nicholas had been true. She had received no offers of marriage and she
suspected she would probably become an old maid. Annabel attributed it to her
odd looks. She knew her blonde hair and grey eyes were a disturbing
combination, though she had long since forgotten to care. Annabel had come to
the conclusion that if a man loved her enough then he would look past her
unusual looks. Nicholas’ stiff words of kindness brought a smile to her face as
she contemplated them. Did he really think her a fine beauty?

She continued
combing her fingers through her hair, attempting to tidy it as best she could.
Her hair was difficult enough to look after normally but without a maid and a
comb she had little chance of taming it. Peeking over her shoulder, she saw
that Nicholas still watched, unabashedly staring at her as she toyed with her
tresses. Did she look so terrible?

He remained in the
same spot that he had been in when she fell asleep. Had he sat there all night?
She knew it was unlikely he had slept. What little she knew of him told her
that he took his duties seriously. Throughout the night, she’d been aware of
him there and although she could not claim to have slept well, his company
certainly provided a comfort that she doubted she would have drawn from anyone
else.

Finally feeling a
little more human, she staggered to her feet, her mantle pooling at her feet as
it slid off. Hazily, she realised that she was wearing her cloak and as she
bent to pick it up she recognised it as Nicholas’. She smiled to herself - so
there was a softer side of him. If she could only draw it out.

Picking up the
mantle, she handed it to him and he stood abruptly to take it off her, looking
slightly annoyed at her having noticed his act of charity.

“Good morrow,
Nicholas.”

“My lady.” He
dipped his head. “Did you sleep well?”

Hiding a yawn with
the back of her hand, she nodded. “Well enough.”

A flicker of
amusement revealed itself briefly on his face before being pushed under a
scowl, as if he didn’t understand his own mirth.

“Fear not, you
shall sleep better tonight. We shall make to a convent that I have knowledge of
today. God willing, we should reach it shortly after noon so you can eat and
rest.”

Nicholas took a
swig from the skin that he clutched in his hand before passing it to her.
Annabel took a healthy drink, colouring slightly at the thought of her lips
covering the place that his had just been. If he noticed her discomfort, he
made no comment and set about kicking at the ashes of the fire, spreading them
into the dirt. She assumed he was trying to hide their presence in the woods,
though to her it suggested paranoia. Surely anyone could have lit that fire?

With a glance to
the skies, he motioned for her to start walking. Feeling filthy and tired,
Annabel offered up no resistance, the thought of bed and rest driving her
forwards.

***

St Mary’s abbey was
small in comparison to the few that Annabel had visited before. A stone wall
surrounded it and a gatehouse stood in the centre, just wide enough to let a cart
through. Nicholas turned her to face him and pulled her mantle over her head,
concealing her unbound hair.

“We shall part
until the morrow now, my lady.”

Annabel nodded,
trying to ignore the apprehension that seeped through her. Naught could happen
to her in a convent but she still hated the thought of not having Nicholas
around. She hadn’t realised quite how accustomed to his quiet company she had
become until this point.

They had travelled
almost companionably through the snaking forest paths and over the empty green
fields. His responses were minimal and betrayed little of what he was thinking,
but he was respectful and treated her with sincerity, an odd look of interest
occasionally flaring in his eyes. When she talked to Nicholas she felt as if he
absorbed every word she uttered rather than dismissing them as the inane
chatter of a woman. It was rare she met a man whose eyes didn’t glaze over as
soon as she opened her mouth, more interested in talk of riches and the spoils
of war.

 “Where will
you be?” she asked him.

“Close by,”
Nicholas told her cryptically.

She chuckled
slightly at his enigmatic words. She had never known a man so secretive. But it
was enough for her, the knowledge of his proximity offering her an odd kind of
comfort.

He bowed his head
slightly before giving her an inexplicable look. “Rest well, my lady.”

Without waiting for
a response, he turned on his heel and quickly strode away.

“And you,
Nicholas,” she uttered to his back.

A diminutive
looking nun greeted her quietly at the gate, ushering her inside the walls. She
was smaller than Annabel which was unusual, for Annabel was no giant herself.
Her white wimple and veil surrounded an unlined face and she surmised that she
must be around her own age. The young nun wore a black wool tunic covered with
a scapula that reminded Annabel of an apron, and it dragged in the mud as she
walked.

“I am Sister
Margaret. I shall escort you to the chapel to pray and then we shall see you
settled in the guest house.”

A modest sized
chapel stood in front of her, the arched windows beckoning to prayer givers,
and Annabel could see several smaller buildings extending behind it. Two basic
looking stone buildings stood to one side and she assumed they must be the
guest buildings.