Honor Bound

by C. J. Archer

  She didn’t flinch, just saw the blow being deflected in her mind. It worked. But only just. In her weakened state, the punch still landed on the side of her jaw, hard enough to snap her head back but not hard enough to break any bones. Fighting against the pain and nauseating fear, she looked desperately around for him. But it was so dark and everything, even the shadows, had blurred after the punch.

  So when the next blow struck, she was taken by complete surprise. She managed to keep her eyes open a moment more, just long enough to see Fox smirking and nodding to himself.

  CHAPTER 17

  Nicholas slipped into the taproom of the Swan and surveyed the crowd from beneath his hood. Several people sat on the stools or at tables, drinking and talking quietly, weary from their travels. None of them were Fox.

  He nodded at the landlord, an immense man with jowls that wobbled as he poured ales. "Drink, Sir?" he offered as Nicholas approached.

  Nicholas shook his head. "I’m looking for a woman."

  The landlord’s bushy eyebrows spiked as his gaze scrutinized Nicholas from head to toe. "Didn’t pick you as the type. But I can get you one if that’s what you’re after. What kind?"

  Nicholas refrained from calling him vile names. He needed this man on his side if he was to find Isabel. "Not the kind you’re thinking. I’m after a specific woman. Smallish, beautiful, golden brown hair, blue eyes." He could describe her forever but he kept it simple. "She might have come here looking for a room for the night."

  The landlord shrugged. "Could be anyone." He moved off to pour an ale from the barrel. Nicholas waited with all the patience of a starved lion. Damn it, every minute that passed meant she could be further away. Or closer to death. Finally the landlord returned.

  "She might have been brought here by a man." Nicholas caught the landlord’s arm when he started to walk off again. He ignored the scowl he received in return but let go. "She could have been unconscious."

  The landlord’s jaw fell like a slack drawbridge, making his jowls quiver. "I might have seen this woman of yours," he said, regaining his composure. He wiped a cloth over a tankard with an air of indifference.

  Nicholas was familiar with this type of source. He pulled out his purse and handed over a sovereign.

  The landlord pocketed it without hesitation. "A lad brought her in earlier. Said she was his sister and had fainted. Wanted a quiet room where she wouldn’t be disturbed."

  "What did the lad look like?"

  The landlord chewed his fat lip in thought. "Brown hair, brown eyes." He shrugged. "Just like every other lad in the city."

  "Which room?"

  The landlord hesitated and Nicholas leaned forward and held his gaze. "I am Sir Nicholas Merritt and the lady in question is my wife." He spoke low so no one else could hear him, but the menace in his voice came through as sharp as a blade. "She has been abducted and if she is harmed in any way, I will kill the lad and then I will kill you if you do not tell me where she is. Now."

  "Third door on the left upstairs."

  Nicholas studied the stairs and produced another sovereign. The landlord tried to snatch it but Nicholas held it out of his reach. "I want you to send someone up to the room and lure the lad out for a while."

  "How am I supposed to do that?"

  "Tell him you’ve got a free meal for him then feed him." Nicholas shrugged. "I don’t care how, just keep him out long enough for me to get my wife."

  "I’ll need more money for the meal."

  Nicholas handed it over.

  "How do I know you’re telling me the truth?" the landlord asked.

  "Because I’m paying you to believe me. And I’m very good with this rapier," he said, patting the hilt of his sword. He sidled over to the far corner of the room where the shadows were deepest. The crowd hummed around him yet he was oblivious to them. Their conversations and laughter belonged to happy people, not the world in which beloved wives were abducted or faced hanging for witchcraft. He flipped his hood over his head and watched the stairs, waiting.

  A few minutes later, Fox came down looking like he’d won a prize at a fair. The landlord showed him to a table away from the stairs and the hostess presented him with a steaming stew. Fox tucked in with relish, slopping the stew down his doublet in his eagerness.

  Nicholas took a candle and slipped up the stairs, almost running to the third door. He tried it and was surprised to find it unlocked. Fox must be confident no one would try to get in. Or that Isabel wouldn’t get out.

  He froze when he saw her slumped in a chair, her wrists and ankles tied. He placed the candle on the table then knelt before her and gently cradled her head between his hands. Her eyes were closed but she breathed. She was alive. Thank God.

  "Isabel," he whispered. "Isabel, wake up, sweetheart." He gently shook her and she stirred.

  "Nick?" she said the moment before her eyes opened. She looked towards him but he wasn’t sure she could quite see him. "You’re here," she said, wonder in her voice.

  "I’m here. And you’re coming home with me." He began to untie her ankles, still supporting her head on his shoulder.

  "Home." She sighed, snuggling into his neck. She felt good, her breath warm against his skin, her scent filling him. He desired her, even now with Fox stuffing himself downstairs.

  There would be time enough to sate that desire soon because he wasn’t going to let her walk out of his life anymore.

  "Can you hold your head up? I need to untie your wrists."

  She nodded and lifted her head. The light from the candle played in the hollows of her cheeks and sunken eyes and picked out the bruise on her chin. He swore and gently kissed it, wishing he could make the hurt go away. She turned and her lips brushed his. She tasted good, sweet and familiar and he could have relished that kiss all night.

  Not yet.

  "Isabel," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded. "Hurry," she said, pulling away. She seemed more alert, holding her head up on her own and glancing towards the door. "Fox...where is he?"

  "Downstairs. Eating."

  She gasped. "But he’ll kill you when he sees you!"

  "Don’t worry. I can take care of Fox."

  "The Justice of the Peace is also on his way."

  Nick swore. In his rush, he fumbled with the ropes. Fox had definitely tied them tightly.

  "Nick!" she screamed.

  He looked up just in time to dive out of the path of the dagger thrown at him. He rolled into a crouching position as Fox ran at him, another dagger drawn. Teeth bared, the blade held high, Fox growled like an animal as he came at Nicholas.

  Instead of waiting for the lad to reach him, Nicholas rushed at him, low and fast, and caught him in the stomach with his shoulder. The tackle sent Fox tumbling to the floor, the impact causing him to let go of the dagger. It landed out of reach. Nicholas stood over him, sword drawn.

  "I’ll kill you," he snarled at the little whoreson. "I’m going to break every bone in your body first and then I’ll kill you, slowly and very, very painfully." He raised his sword and Fox curled into a ball, his hands covering his face, whimpering.

  "Nick, no," Isabel said from where she was still tied to the chair. "He’s not worth going to prison for."

  Anger crushed Nicholas’s insides, making breathing difficult. But the JP would be there soon and Isabel was right. He sheathed his sword and picked up the whoreson by the front of his doublet. He had to do something to him, let the little toad know he couldn’t go around kidnapping his wife—his wife, damn it—and expect to get away with it.

  So he threw him against the wall. The entire room seemed to shake with the impact. Fox slithered to the floor like a wet cloth, mewling all the way.

  "Nick! Look out!"

  He turned, just in time to see Helpman’s two thugs coming at him. The JP himself stood in the open doorway, his smug smile widening when he saw Isabel.

  He clicked his tongue as if chiding a child. "I told you not to harm him," he said to Nichol
as. The constables circled, their daggers drawn, ready to strike. "And now that you have...well, I have to arrest you too."

  "He abducted my wife," Nicholas said without taking his eyes off both constables. It wasn’t easy when they split up. He drew his sword and stepped back to keep them in his line of sight.

  "On the contrary, he was holding her until my arrival. A commendable feat given her considerable powers, don’t you think?"

  "She is not a witch," Nicholas said, the lie rolling easily off his tongue. He’d tell a thousand lies if they could save Isabel. "And I will be damned if I let you arrest her."

  "Nick, don’t," Isabel said.

  He didn’t look at her, didn’t want to see the plea in her eyes. He knew what she was going to say and he didn’t want to hear it. "No, Isabel," he said. "I’m not losing you again."

  "They’ll hurt you," she said, her voice catching.

  "I don’t care."

  "Listen to your wife," Helpman said. "We don’t want to harm you, Sir Nicholas."

  Nicholas snorted. The biggest thug moved forward but Nicholas thrust his sword towards him and the constable backed up. "If you want my wife, you have to kill me because nothing less will stop me protecting her."

  "Nick, please," Isabel said. "Don’t do this. You can’t sacrifice yourself for me. I won’t allow it."

  "I can’t let you go without a fight," he said. "How do you think I’d feel letting the woman I love be captured by this fool."

  There was a pause in which Fox groaned. Nicholas didn’t want to turn around to look but he hoped the little dung fly would stay unconscious a while longer.

  "You do love me," she said weakly.

  Having his back to her and his sword drawn on two cave dwellers wasn’t the ideal way to affirm his love but it would have to do.

  "Yes." He readjusted his grip, ready to force his way out of the room. "Didn’t I tell you? I never stopped."

  "Yes, you did, but...never mind."

  He smiled at the soft sound of her voice, wishing he could turn around and look at her, touch her, kiss her.

  "How nauseating," Helpman sneered. "Now, step aside or my men will force you."

  Nicholas beckoned them with his free hand. "Come on then. I can’t stand around here all day waiting."

  He heard Isabel’s breath hitch and imagined her trying to get her powers working again. He hoped she managed to do it soon because Helpman was also drawing his sword. Three against one were tough odds. Thank God he had a sword and not a bow and arrows.

  The big constable signaled to his colleague and they lunged at the same time. Nicholas easily parried one blow and dodged the other by stepping to the side.

  "That was pathetic," he said. "My sister could do better than that."

  The big one reacted exactly how Nicholas expected him to. He growled, drawing his thick brows together, and ran at Nicholas like a wild boar. Again, Nicholas easily parried the blade, but this time his sword point nicked the man’s hand. He dropped his dagger with a yelp.

  Nicholas had no time to admire his handiwork. The other constable came at him from the side but Helpman had also decided to contribute, waving his sword flamboyantly as he charged. It was almost comical. Nicholas expected three against one to be difficult odds but it was embarrassingly easy. If this was the city’s finest law enforcers then it was amazing London wasn’t infested with more criminals.

  Nicholas kicked the dagger out of the constable’s hand as he deflected Helpman’s wild thrust with a flick of his rapier. But Helpman tried again and this time, whether by design or pure luck, the first thug also rushed at Nicholas again. As he was occupied with parrying Helpman’s sword, the constable caught him in a headlock. Powerful muscles clenched around Nicholas’s throat, cutting off his air supply. But still he managed to parry Helpman again and again. With his head ready to explode and his throat burning, Nicholas knew he only had precious moments before he blacked out.

  When Helpman paused to gather himself, Nicholas saw his chance. He thrust his elbow back and up, catching the constable below the ribs. The big oaf’s grip loosened just enough for Nicholas to suck in delicious air then flip his attacker over his shoulder. He also flipped the other constable when he ran at Nicholas. The two men lay groaning on the floor and Helpman stood to the side, his sword drooping, his eyes wide with alarm.

  "Drop the sword or she dies." The threat came from behind him.

  Nicholas swung round, terror making his heart stop.

  Fox held a knife to Isabel’s throat. He’d pressed hard enough into her flesh that a trickle of blood dripped into the top of her ruff. Isabel’s eyes stared unblinking back at him, but she otherwise seemed calm. He’d never seen a woman so brave. And that just made her even more beautiful.

  "Let her go," Nicholas said, hoping he looked as composed as she did.

  "Make me," Fox said.

  Nicholas’s grip tightened on his rapier’s hilt. He should have killed the little whoreson when he had the chance. He wanted to kill him now, but he couldn’t. Not without Isabel getting hurt first.

  He closed his eyes, tried to control his wrath. He wanted to hit something, hurt someone, make him pay.

  Damn it, why hadn’t he been watching Fox? Why had he let him get to Isabel so easily? The coward must have faked unconsciousness and Nicholas silently cursed himself for being duped by an old trick.

  "It’s all right, Nick," she said, soothingly. How could she remain so calm when everything around her, himself included, was in utter turmoil?

  "It’s not all right," was all he could say around his tight throat. Nothing will be all right until you are safe in my arms.

  He had to do something. Had to, even if it led to his own death. If he could save her then whatever happened to him would be worth it.

  "Put down your weapon," Helpman said. His men approached Nicholas cautiously, one holding a leather strap probably to tie Nicholas’s hands together.

  He had only moments in which to do something. He estimated the distance between himself and Fox. If he had a dagger instead of a sword he could throw it, but Fox was too close to Isabel to chance his arm with the rapier. His eyes darted to the ceiling, the walls, even the candles in the hope of finding something, anything that might work in his favor.

  There was nothing. Just him. Just his rapier.

  He would have to charge at Fox and hope to get to him before he inflicted a deep wound.

  Something suddenly flew past his line of sight. Then Fox was on the ground, the constable’s forgotten dagger sticking out of his eye.

  "What was that?" Helpman hurried to Fox’s side and checked his breathing even though it was clear from all the blood that the lad was dead. Helpman looked to his men. Both shrugged and shook their heads. The JP swallowed and his gaze shifted to Isabel.

  She merely stared at Fox.

  Nicholas groaned and closed his eyes. It was all over. He hadn’t saved her at all. She’d saved and condemned herself by a single act of desperation.

  "Witch!" one of the constables shouted, as if he’d not believed it before. He turned and ran out the door. His feet could be heard pounding down the stairs.

  The other constable, the big one, stayed but he stared like a dazed animal at her. "Now what, Sir?" he eventually asked Helpman.

  Helpman watched Isabel as she untied her own bonds. She must have regained her powers in the last few moments. "I... I..." the JP said.

  "You leave," Nicholas said. "Now."

  Isabel spared a passing glance at the body of Fox then rushed to Nicholas. He caught her, crushing her to him so hard he thought he’d break her. He buried his face in her neck, breathed her scent deep into his body, but kept one eye on the men.

  "Oh, Nick," she whispered. She caught his face between her hands and buried her fingers in his hair. She pulled his head down and gave him a brief kiss. She tasted like Heaven, sweet and warm. He wanted that kiss to continue, to feel her lips all over his body. But there was work to be done and he drew back. He c
aressed her cheek and gently touched the bruise on her chin.

  She gave him a small smile before turning in his arms and pressing back against him, her head nestled below his chin. He kept one arm around her waist, his other still holding his sword although he kept the point down.

  "We walk out of here and no one else will be hurt," Nicholas said to Helpman. He signaled the constable to stand near the JP so he could keep them both together on the far side of the room, away from the door.

  He obeyed and Nicholas backed towards the door, Isabel in step with him.

  "I can’t stay in London," she said when they were out of Helpman’s hearing.