Angel With a Blade

by Ann Cory

  The young man bowed his head. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to rest.”

  Raumont watched him exit the room through half-closed eyes and listened until his footsteps faded. Another spasm shot through his body and his mind found a calm darkness.

  Chapter Four

  Rebecca paused in the doorway, her pulse pounding. She’d returned in time to save him. Raumont might’ve died and over what, money? Did human life have so little value? And why did no one else go to him when he’d lain in the street? Were the people of Blatsfort too consumed by snobbery and status to aid another in need? Even without the rune stones she’d have helped him.

  The rumble of her stomach interrupted her thoughts and she placed her hand on the rail to go downstairs for a bite to eat. Afterward she’d fetch a man of the law to apprehend the two she’d overheard. She hoped they had their fill of liquor because once in jail they’d be out of luck.

  Halfway down the stairs she heard a thud on the porch. Two figures passed by the windows, one an inch or so taller than the other. Damn, they were already here. She’d spent too much time mixing the tonic and questioning her feelings for a man she didn’t know. Rebecca wished she’d locked the door behind her, but her mind had been elsewhere.

  The doorknob turned and a loud click echoed in the foyer. She hurried back up the steps and hid behind the door inside Raumont’s bedroom. She’d been wrong to think her part in this had ended with the elixir. The true reason for her journey had finally presented itself.

  Breath held, she listened and waited.

  Barton ushered to his partner to enter.

  “Do you think he’s even home?” Edward whispered once inside.

  “Of course, the door was unlocked.”

  “I’d really hoped to find him sprawled outside, dead.”

  “Yes well, he’s as good as dead if the poison didn’t finish him off,” Barton assured him. “The man I spoke to said the guns were kept in the room adjacent to the dining quarters. We’ll start this way. Follow me.”

  They walked quietly until they found the small room that joined the dining area and pantry. The roof slanted and made them have to slouch a little. Along the back wall was a tall glass cabinet filled with guns. Barton tried the handle and found it locked.

  “Hmm. I didn’t figure on that. Guess we’ll have to break it open.”

  Edward nodded and went to reach for his sword when a loud thud sounded from upstairs.

  “He’s still alive,” Barton said. “We should go and see what that noise was about.”

  His partner gave him a sideways glance. “What about the ammunition?”

  “There’s plenty of time for that. First we’ll check on him. Maybe he finally keeled over and we won’t need the guns at all. Come on.”

  Barton ascended the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Once Raumont Scarpitta was out of the way, he’d be a rich man.

  He looked down the hallway and noticed a sliver of light coming from one of the doors.

  Voice lowered, he turned to Edward. “He’s in there. I’ll go first.”

  Chapter Five

  Rebecca cursed herself for knocking over the lantern. She hadn’t wanted to wake Raumont or attract the men’s attention. At least she hadn’t started a fire. To her relief, he stayed asleep.

  After righting the lantern, she moved back behind the door. Her arms and legs trembled, making it difficult for her to keep her balance.

  The floor of the hallway creaked and she heard the men whisper to one another. Horror struck her. Why hadn’t she turned out the light? Not only had she captured their attention, she’d led them right to the person they planned to kill. And here she was supposed to be helping.

  A figure entered the room while the other one stood in the doorway.

  “Well, would you look at that, Edward. The old fool is sound asleep.”

  “I wonder what made the noise.”

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter now. This couldn’t be easier. We’ll slay him now, grab the money and torch the place.”

  “You’re a goddamn genius, Barton.”

  Fear turned to anger in an instant. She refused to stand by and let anything happen to Raumont. Whatever irrational feelings she had for him fueled her courage.

  Rebecca stepped out from behind the door and let it fall closed. Her sword hissed as she pulled the blade from its sheath.

  The men turned around, eyes wide, lips pursed.

  “Who are you? Some long lost nephew?” exclaimed the blond-haired man. He pulled his sword from the belt around his middle and raised it high. His dark-haired partner followed suit as he too brandished his sword. If they thought raising their blades would deter her, they were dead wrong. She knew how to use a sword. Her mother had taught her the importance of defending herself. Though she’d never killed anyone, she’d gotten herself out of some unpleasant situations.

  “My identity is not your concern,” she replied, making her voice low and raspy. “I’m curious who you are and why you’ve come uninvited.”

  The dark-haired one put his hand up. “I’m Barton and this here’s Edward, my business partner. You’re mistaken, young man, we were invited. By Raumont himself. We’re old acquaintances of his.”

  Rebecca clicked her tongue. “I doubt that, seeing how he’s sound asleep. Why are you here?”

  “We’re here to talk business. Are you his personal bodyguard or something?”

  She smiled. If she wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t act nearly as confident. “Something like that.”

  “We’d appreciate it if you’d leave us alone with Raumont,” he insisted. “Your presence is unnecessary.”

  “I’ll have to decline your kind request. I’m not leaving.”

  The man’s green eyes turned dark. “Then you won’t walk out of here alive.”

  Rebecca held her head high. “We shall see.”

  Hand on the hilt of her sword, she parried and lunged, narrowly missing the dark-haired man’s throat. Again she lunged and again she missed. Her lack of rest since the start of her journey didn’t help.

  With a grunt, both men came at her, their swords aimed low to the ground. She leapt as their swords swiped air. Rebecca landed, rolled to her knees and dove to the side. They gave her little time to recover before they stalked forward, backing her into the corner. The points of their swords came too close for her comfort and the one called Barton managed to draw blood along her forearm. She refused to give up or show weakness.

  Jaw clenched, she struck forward. Her sword circled and connected against one sword and then the other, the steels clanging together so loudly it became almost deafening. She took a step back out of range of their blades and then parried. Sword tight in her grip, she moved like the wind to strike.

  This time the dark-haired man didn’t get a chance to block. She’d knocked his sword from his grip and had the tip of her blade against his throat.

  “Enough,” he spat and lowered his sword. “This has nothing to do with you and regretfully you’re wasting your time. I poisoned Raumont’s drink earlier this evening, so if he isn’t dead already, he soon will be.”

  Rebecca looked into his terror-stricken eyes and realized these men were cowards. Schemers out to rob unsuspecting people and live off their spoils. She didn’t believe for one moment either of them had ever killed anyone, much less hurt them. Of course she hadn’t either, but they didn’t know that. She decided to change tactics. Blood didn’t have to be spilled tonight. There were other ways to handle such matters.

  Hand to her head, she pushed back the hood of her cloak. “You’re the ones wasting your time. Raumont won’t die tonight, not from poison or your hand. I overheard your plan at the inn and mixed a potion to counter the effects. He’ll be right as rain by morning.”

  “She’s a woman,” gasped the blond. Her stomach roiled at the way he looked her body up and down.

  “And she’s a liar,” Barton seethed. “She’s nothing more than a stupid woman. It’s a tric
k to make us let down our guard.”

  “I’m not lying,” she countered. “I carry tonics and potions with me everywhere I go. Have a look.” She gestured to her collection of vials and bottles in the basket.

  Neither man moved. Barton wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead. “What are you, a witch?”

  “I prefer to be called an apothecary.”

  The blond one smirked. “An apothecary?”

  “More like a witch,” Barton grumbled to his partner and then fixed his eyes on her. “What’s in this for you?”

  “Nothing. Raumont is a good man and I’ve been sent to protect him. No harm will come to him while I’m here.”

  “You talk as if you can come and go whenever you please.”

  “You’d be correct. That’s the beauty of practicing magic.”

  The blond took a step back. “Do you mean black magic?”

  Amused by their overt superstition, she deepened her voice.

  “Yes, and if provoked, I’ll put a curse on both of you.”

  Fear pooled in both their eyes.

  “Please, don’t bewitch us,” the blond pled and pointed his finger to his partner. “He’s the one who came up with the plan to use poison. I’m innocent.”

  “Like hell,” spat Barton. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  The banter bored her. She’d had enough games and raised her sword into the air. “I suggest you both leave now. A curse has already been placed on this estate. Anyone who dares steal from its rightful owner shall be bled to death.”

  The words had barely left her lips when the men lowered their sword and ran from the room. She listened to their boots pound heavily against the porch and clatter against the cobblestone. Pleased, she went to the window and watched them run off until out of her view. That had been easier than expected. In the morning she’d seek out the sheriff and give detailed descriptions. Their robbing days were over.

  Rebecca turned to face Raumont, hoping he hadn’t witnessed the altercation. Would he be grateful for her help or would his pride be wounded that a woman fought for him? Some men were like that. To her relief, his eyes were closed. Her identity remained a secret.

  She raised the hood back over her head and checked her wound. The cut would heal, but she didn’t want to drip blood on the carpet. She checked her pockets for her handkerchief, certain she’d had it earlier. Not finding it, she pressed her other hand on top of the wound. She’d take a quick bath and use her healing tonic.

  From her basket she chose the amber bottle and strode out of the room to organize a bath. She located a bar of soap in a cabinet and placed a towel on the floor. In her pocket she found a ribbon and tied her hair up to keep it dry. Despite the injury and all over fatigue, she couldn’t ignore the pride pulsing through her body. She’d saved Raumont’s life. Without any hesitation. Of course she was accustomed to helping strangers, but there hadn’t been any other occasions where that included bleeding for them.

  Rebecca removed her clothing and sank into the tub. Heaven on earth, she moaned inwardly. She soaped herself from her neck to her toes, enjoying the clean, fresh scent and soothing water. Slowly her body released all its tension. The night had been eventful and she’d likely have a bruise or two from rolling along the hard floor, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Faced with a dangerous situation, she’d kept her wits about her. She’d always considered herself strong. How strong, well now she had a better idea. Would she have acted so recklessly for just anyone or was it because she cared for Raumont? She paused to ponder why she cared so much for a man she barely knew. Rebecca was unprepared for the emotions stirring up inside her. In the brief encounters with Raumont, she couldn’t deny the pull, a magnetic force that existed, however silly it sounded. But when had she started to care for him? Or was she looking to nurture someone and he’d just happened to be in the right place at the right time? There was an underlying tenderness to him, a gentle way about him that had made her disregard all matters of danger to protect him. Being around him made her warm, and curious. Why did he live alone in such a big house? Had he been married once? Little mysteries surrounded him and she’d like to take the time to know him better.

  Rebecca rinsed off the soap along her arm and applied a quarter-sized dollop of the healing tonic. It worked fast on her wound, leaving only a small remnant of a mark. In a few days it too would disappear.

  She traced her fingertip along the lip of the amber bottle. Had she not left her basket beneath the bench, she’d never have overheard Barton and his partner’s conversation. She wouldn’t have known about the poison or their plan to kill Raumont. The stones had never led her into such peril before. She’d learned as a child that her role in the world differed from others. While she’d wished to have friends to play with, no one lived nearby. The solitary life was necessary to tune into nature. To learn about each plant, root and herb. She’d been blessed with a gift to heal, as had all the women in her family. And like them she knew little of love.

  When she’d asked her mother about her father, the reply had been brief. A fling between her journeys, nothing more. Nothing about emotions, feelings, love. Her mother forbade anymore questions on the matter, insisting she pay attention to her studies instead.

  Time passed and her journeys took her where she was needed. Personal satisfaction aside, she had a good life. But she knew she’d missed out. Like Raumont, she spent her time alone. She didn’t know anything about relationships. Until now she’d never considered herself lonely. Until now she’d never truly considered sharing her life with a man, or what it would mean to give herself freely to one person. She was attracted to him, more than physically. Again, that pull, an unknown but thrilling element that kept her wanting to stay close. She’d noticed a shift when she’d gone to the inn. In that time she’d missed his company. It didn’t hurt that he had charm and manners and captivating eyes that promised her the world. The man behind those eyes intrigued her to learn more.

  Body and wound clean, Rebecca grabbed the towel, stood and dried herself. The bath rejuvenated her and helped lessen some of the pain she’d suffered between the journey and duel. She redressed and carefully adjusted her hair inside the hood of her cloak. She’d bid him a silent farewell before she went on her way.

  With soft steps she returned to Raumont’s room.

  To her surprise, he sat upright, wide awake. In the lantern light his face held a healthy glow. His eyes were clear and fixed on her.

  He held out his hand and waved the handkerchief.

  “I believe this belongs to you.”

  She sucked in her breath and approached his bedside, body tense. How would she explain the ruse of being a boy?

  “Thank you.” Rebecca wrapped her hand around it and fingered the lace edges. She wondered how long he’d known.

  “My pleasure,” he replied.

  When he didn’t press for an explanation, her anxiety faded.

  She moistened her lips and asked, “I take it you’re feeling better?”

  “Yes. Better than I have in years.”

  Lines bracketed his eyes as he smiled. Gone was the unsteady stranger she’d assisted from the inn. In his place, a radiant man with a muscular build and eyes that gazed at her with hunger. It nearly took her breath away.

  “That is good to hear,” she said and tucked the handkerchief into her pocket.

  “I have you to thank for that.”

  Rebecca twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “It was the tonic. As I said, it’s potent.”

  He smirked. “It was more than the tonic. You and I both know that.”

  “I did what was necessary, nothing more,” she murmured.

  His head moved side to side. “No one else would’ve given me a second thought back there. But you stayed.”

  Unsure what to say, she turned to leave.

  “I feel I owe you an apology,” Raumont stated in a husky voice that made her pause and turn back. “I believe I called you a young lad when we first
met. Clearly you are every bit a woman.”

  Lust blazed in his eyes and sparked all her senses to life. No man had ever looked at her with such intensity. Against her will, his presence awakened a strong desire within her to let down her guard and dissolve into his warm embrace. His gaze continued to burn on her, through her.

  She knew all the reasons to walk out the door and out of his house. She knew she was on dangerous grounds even considering to stay the night with him. The heated look he gave assured her that he’d be the kind of lover she’d only dreamed of. He wouldn’t be the kind of man she’d forget, not even over time. His touch would linger forever. The nights would be sheer torture.

  They were reckless thoughts. Reckless and risky. She had no business giving in to the mad desire erupting inside her, except that she couldn’t deny the attraction to him. There was more here than the sexual need to be with him. It was the yearning to understand the emotional part of love, the part her mother had refused to share. She never realized how being deprived of understanding the depth of feelings for someone had made her ache so strongly to experience it, even for a moment. To taste that forbidden fruit she was expected to ignore until she died a lonely old spinster without anyone to tell of her journeys.

  Risks aside, she tired of forgoing her own pleasures for the sake of duty. Tonight her body demanded personal satisfaction. Tonight she wanted to be touched. She wanted to bite into that fruit and bathe in its juices, hell, drown in them if need be.

  “You were wrong about my being a woman, good sir. I am a lady.” She let the cloak fall to reveal her tight-fitting dress with its low-cut bodice.

  “And every bit a lady,” he remarked.

  His lingering gaze over her body sent shivers along her skin. “Might I ask your name?”

  “It’s Rebecca.”

  “You saved my life, Rebecca.”

  The sound of her name from his lips raised the cadence of her pulse. She shifted her weight. “How much did you see?”