“Wrong?” The question came out as a roar.
“I love you.”
“Love,” he scoffed. He turned away from her, moving to the other side of the room, near the hearth. The light of the dying fire cast him in a red glow. He suddenly began coughing. It started with a small gasp and sputter, but quickly turned into a fit of thick rumbles.
She sat up, confused at her father’s rage, afraid he would strike her again. Yet, he was her father, and no matter what, she knew she had to help him. When his coughing stopped, she whispered, “I will do as you command, Father.”
“Do as I command?” he repeated with a small, strangled laugh, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his black jupon.
“I don’t understand, Father. Isn’t that what you want? My marriage to William?”
“I don’t care who you marry, as long as you are miserable. I only consented to the marriage because I thought you could never love a man like him, a cursed man. A monster. A killer.”
She stood to her feet, her knees trembling. He had wanted her to marry William so she was unhappy. “Why? What have I done to displease you?”
“Displease me?” He stepped from the shadows, his face twisted and loveless. “You were born!”
“But... We were happy when Mother was alive.”
“Because I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were not mine.”
She stepped back, reeling. No words escaped her open lips.
“Your mother told me when she was sick. She told me she loved another. She told me she was unfaithful. She told me she had fucked another man!” He swiped at a small chair that sat beside the large judgment chair, launching it across the room. It smashed into the wall, splintering. “She told me all of it to cleanse her soul, she said.” He waved his hand. “Or some such rubbage. I was furious.” He looked down at his hands and clenched them into fists. “So furious. I killed the little slut. I killed my wife. I strangled her.”
Stunned, horrified, Grace couldn’t move. He had killed her mother! The image of her mother laying half off and half on the bed came to her mind. She had been sick and Grace had believed she had simply passed. She hadn’t seen the marks around her neck. Her fingers moved to cover her mouth. He had killed her!
“But I will have the last say. I will make sure nothing of her loins, no bastard born slut, will be happy. That was why I arranged your marriage to that cursed degraded soul. You would be as cursed as him. Destined for hell.“ He shook his head. ”But he didn’t come. And I was running out of time.”
Grace stepped toward the door. He was mad. He was out of his mind. She had to get out of that room, away from him. Her stomach tightened and churned in fear. He had killed her mother.
“I had to act quickly. So very quickly.” He ran his hand over the wooden arm of the judgment chair, caressing it. But his gaze never left her. “Plotting and scheming. You think I am a fool. Your mother did. Is that what you think?”
“Father --” she whispered, weakly.
“I’m not your father!” he howled.
She could only stare in horror as he continued his rant.
“I sought out a knight who wanted to better his position. A knight more concerned with coin. A young knight. A knight who didn’t care about chivalry. Your friend. Together, we hatched a plan. He would take you away. Far away. Saying he would save you. I even gave him more coin to take you away.”
Pain twisted Grace’s chest at his story. “Curtis,” she said softly.
“Yes. Yes. But it wasn’t enough for me. I couldn’t stand the thought of you somewhere enjoying the sunshine and laughing. Maybe finding a fat little baker boy to settle down with.” He ground his teeth.
Grace felt her world spinning. A plot. It was all a plot. Curtis was her friend! Someone she trusted. But it had been a plan hatched with her father. She glanced at the door as she slowly inched her way toward it; she was almost there. She knew she had to escape. She had to get to William. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, it’s difficult for you to follow.” His voice was thick with mockery. “Once I realized my mistake in letting you escape with a friend, I knew what I had to do. I could not stand the thought of you walking the same path I might walk. Of breathing the same air I would breathe. There really was only one choice. I was a fool not to do it earlier.”
Tears rose in her eyes. How could he hate her so much?
Her father started laughing, but the coughing returned, doubling him over with spasms. He had to sit in the judgment chair to calm his wracking sputters. He announced through the coughs with glee, “I hired someone to kill you.”
CHAPTER 18
Stunned and horrified, Grace couldn’t move. Emily had died because of her father! It hadn’t been Curtis. Curtis had been loyal to her.
Her father slumped over in the chair, and for a moment, Grace thought he might be dead. She glanced at the door, every instinct telling her to flee. He tried to kill you! He killed your mother!
“I would have done it myself,” he whispered, “but the only joy in my life is seeing you hurt. It is the only way to get back at your mother. You were her only love. She protected you. She gave you everything you wanted. Now. It is my turn.” He rose out of the chair like a demon, like Death.
Grace lunged for the door. She wrapped her hand around the handle.
His hand knotted in her hair. “Where are you going? I didn’t give you leave to exit.” He yanked her back into the room.
She rolled across the floor, coming to a halt before the chair.
Her father opened the door. “I shall be back to tend you later.”
Grace pushed herself up on her arms. “Where are you going?”
“You and Sir William looked far too comfortable together. I must tend to him first. Be patient.”
“No,” the sound escaped her throat and she pushed herself up from the floor and raced across the room. Her father closed the door before she could reach it. She grabbed the handle desperately, but she was too late. The lock slid into place with a resounding click.
William waited in the courtyard for a long while. He stared at the doorway, looking for Grace. He looked at the stars, at the walkways where the guards were stationed at their posts, but eventually his gaze was drawn to the doorway again. Something was amiss. He could feel it in his bones. Enough time had passed for Grace to talk with her father and explain their situation.
He walked into the keep. His senses were heightened. He had to find Grace. There was an urgency to his mission. Her father didn’t know about the assassin.
The hallway was barren as he looked first one way and then the next. Noises came from the courtyard. Someone shouted to another person. A horse whinnied. He started to move down the hallway when he heard a door open. William whirled. Lord Alan walked toward him, a grumbling cough causing him to cover his mouth as he moved. When Lord Alan saw him, he began to move toward William with resolve.
William waited for him. “M’lord,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I’ve returned your daughter.”
He nodded. “Yes, you did,” he agreed.
Was that disappointment in his tone? William scowled. “Grace and I wish to fulfill your wish and be married.”
“I’m afraid after speaking with her, she told me she wanted nothing to do with you.”
William took a quick inhale of utter astonishment.
“I’m sure she confessed her love to you, as she did to Sir Curtis. She uses her love and her body as a means to get what she wants. And she wanted to return home. That was all.”
That was not the truth. She wasn’t like that. William didn’t believe what Lord Alan said, but why would the man lie to him? “What of your vow to my father?”
“Yes. Well, that is difficult for me. But I cannot force my daughter into a marriage she does not want.”
Prickles danced along William’s neck. That was exactly what he was doing before. He was forcing Grace to marry him. William was certain the man was lying to him. “Where is Grace? I
would like to speak with her.”
“She said she didn’t want to see you again.”
The words set William’s jaw on edge. If he had harmed her...
“I know this must come as a blow to you. After I agreed and all. But you must understand...”
William stood, rooted to the ground. What could he do? His mind raced. He couldn’t leave Grace, and yet he saw no alternative. He nodded. “I have traveled a great distance, Lord Alan,” he said. “And returned your daughter to you. Perchance I might ask a cup of ale and a warm meal before I depart?”
Lord Alan nodded. Suddenly, a cough bubbled from his throat. He caught it with his fisted hand and one cough turned into two and then more until he was bent over in a fit.
William put his hand on Lord Alan’s shoulder. “Do you need help? Should I send for a physician?”
Lord Alan shook his head. “I shall be all right.” He removed a piece of cloth from his sleeve. The white fabric was stained with splotches of smeared blood.
William knew he would not be all right. It was only a matter of time. He had seen it before. The man was dying. William withdrew his hand from Lord Alan’s shoulder.
Lord Alan straightened, dabbing at his lips with the material. “Yes. Yes. You shall have your meal. Go into the Great Hall. I shall have it brought to you immediately.”
William turned to go when something caught his eye. The material Lord Alan used to wipe his mouth was embroidered with a black cat in the center. He had seen that black cat before. But where? He nodded. “Thank you, Lord Alan.”
Lord Alan’s shoulder’s drooped. “I will be unable to join you. For at the moment, I am fatigued.”
William nodded and watched the man move past him toward the stairs and the upper chambers. That black cat grated his nerves. He had seen it before. He could see it clear as day in his minds’ eye. But he couldn’t place it. That damned cat, William thought. He looked at Lord Alan’s retreating back again before heading into the Great Hall.
Grace shook the door again, but no one came to unlock it. She glanced around the room. It was dark except for the dying fire in the hearth behind the judgment chair. She leaned against the door, staring at the fire. He had killed her mother! Sadness engulfed her. How could he have done that? How could he have killed the woman he professed to love? Because he had never loved her mother. Just as he had never loved her. That would explain why he hated her so much. Why he wanted her to be miserable.
But none of it mattered now. She had to find William.
William. She wondered what her father was telling William, what ugly words he was using to hurt him. William had endured enough. He didn’t need more lies and more pain.
She stepped away from the door and began to walk around the room, looking for some way out. There had to be something she could use to escape.
He wasn’t her father. That explained the hatred she saw when she looked in his eyes, the disgust that curled his lips when he saw her. But it didn’t really. He had raised her as his own. She was still his daughter.
Suddenly, she heard the bolt sliding. Someone was unlocking the door. Anticipation surged within her. Was it William? Had he found her? But then she realized how unlikely that would be. It must be her father coming back to hurl insults and lies.
The door swung open. Desperation and dread left her breathless as fear tightened within her.
The assassin stood in the doorway.
CHAPTER 19
Grace backed away from the door toward the hearth.
The assassin stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
Her heart pounded. He was the man she had seen in the woods at Curtis’s cottage. She recognized his thick dark beard. “It was you. You killed Emily,” she whispered.
He said nothing as he moved toward her. Slowly, almost as if enjoying the moment, he produced a dagger from his belt. The silver blade shone in the firelight.
Firelight. Grace glanced down at the dying fire, spotting a log that had been partially burned.
“You are hard to kill,” the man said softly.
She grabbed the log with both hands, burning one of her hands in the process, and yanked the wood out of the hearth. Embers sprayed about the room as she quickly raised the log up, holding it before her.
The assassin covered his face as tiny barbs of flame shot toward him.
Grace saw her chance. She raced past the assassin and was almost to the door when it opened. Thinking her father was returning, she lifted the log to hit him. All her thoughts centered on escape. Escaping her father. Escaping the assassin. Escaping. She froze as the man entered. Even though his face was shadowed in blackness, she would know him anywhere. “William.” She dropped the smoking log and launched herself into his arms.
He caught her easily, his gaze locked on the assassin. He eased her to the side so he could pull out his sword.
Grace looked up at him. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
His entire focus was on the assassin near the hearth. “Are you hurt?” he asked Grace, keeping his gaze on the deadly killer before him.
“No,” Grace answered.
William stood before her like a tower of death. His sword shone in the firelight. “I remembered where I saw that cat,” he whispered.
The assassin pulled on a thin leather cord that hung around his neck, drawing forth a pendant that dangled from the end of the cord. He held the pendant before the fire. It cast a black shadow of a cat on the wall. “The black cats are deadly and lethal. Highly trained.”
“Highly expendable,” William snarled.
The assassin tucked the pendant back into his tunic.
“My father hired him,” Grace said softly. “It wasn’t Curtis.”
“Your father is responsible for Emily’s death?” William asked in surprise. He gritted his teeth.
“You’ll never prove that,” the man near the fire vowed.
William raised his sword. “I won’t have to.”
Grace stepped back. She moved to the door and quietly closed it, sealing the three of them in the room. She didn’t want anyone interfering, least of all her father.
“Not very noble of you, eh William?” the assassin said, displaying his dagger, and indicating William’s sword with a jerk of his chin.
“You killed an innocent woman,” William accused. “My cousin.”
“Unfortunate. She wasn’t the woman I was after.”
Anger pulsed through William. He had killed Emily as a mistake. Taken her life because he had meant to kill Grace. He had no intention of letting him near her. And he would avenge Emily. There would be no mercy for this killer. William took a step toward him. Evil came in many forms.
The assassin threw the dagger at him and drew his sword.
William knocked the dagger aside with his sword only seconds before the assassin attacked. William deflected the first blow and answered with his own swipe. The clangs rang out, echoing through the air. William refused to circle or give him ground. He would not let him get a foot closer to Grace, not an inch. It took all of his skill to keep the man back. He was an excellent fighter. The swords blazed through the air, arcing and clashing again and again.
He was good. But he wasn’t a trained knight. He kept to the shadows, attacking his prey in the dark. Faced with a sword, head to head, the assassin was not skilled enough. It took William only moments to find a weak spot in his style and he took advantage, thrusting. His mighty movement drove his weapon forward, past the assassin’s sharp sword, into his armorless stomach. Surprise washed over Peter’s face.
William had seen death many times before. From an innocent archbishop to soldiers in battle to his defenseless cousin. This was, truly, the only satisfying death. He thrust his sword deeper into the man’s stomach. “For Emily,” he whispered. William immediately felt a burning sensation in his arm and looked down. The assassin had pricked him with a small dagger near his elbow. William knocked it aside. It didn’t matter. He had aveng
ed Emily. He had saved Grace.
A small smile turned up the corner of the man’s bearded lips before he slumped forward. William pushed him backward, off of his sword. He stood over him, staring down at the corpse. The image of Emily’s dead body come to his mind. It didn’t bring her back. He would never see her smiling face again, hear her teasing words. But this man would never be able to kill again. And that was some sort of satisfaction.
William turned to Grace. She stood near the door, watching.
She lurched forward into his arms. “Are you all right?”
He caught her, holding her. Relief swept through him. No one would try to hurt Grace again. She was safe. He bent his head and rested his cheek on her golden hair. It was over.
There came an urgent knock on the door. “M’lady?”
William stepped away from Grace. He held up a hand to her, signaling her to wait, and eased the door open to find a servant girl. Her brow was furrowed in concern. William opened the door further until the servant saw Grace. She curtseyed. “Pardons, m’lady. But it’s your father. He has collapsed.”
Grace moved forward. “Where?”
The servant girl led the way down the corridor.
William grabbed Grace’s arm. “Grace! We should leave. Your father tried to have you killed.”
“I know,” she answered. “But he is sick. He is dying.” She turned and followed the servant down the hallway.
William took a step after her. The room tilted to the side. Stunned, he stood as the room around him moved. He glanced back at the assassin on the floor. Was this some sort of trick? Then he looked at his arm where the assassin had stuck him. Dread filled him. He raced after Grace. The cool air of the hallway cleared his head momentarily. He saw her running into a stairwell and called to her, but she didn’t stop. He continued after her. The hallway darkened around him, hedging in from the borders, but he continued on. He had to reach her. He entered the curved stairwell and the entire walkway tipped. The steps seemed to grow and twist, rising before him like a mountain. He took one step and then another. Every step was becoming difficult. This can’t be happening, he thought. Not now. Not when he had won the woman he loved. Not when he had avenged Emily. But he knew that was exactly why this was happening. He broke his vow never to kill again. He had doubted the Lord above. And he was being punished.
A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series Page 12
