The Angel's Assassin

by Samantha Holt

  With his mind clear of fatigue and fear, he realised he would need to clean her wounds. The fever could well be caused by the dirt festering in her cuts and he needed to find a way to cool her down. They were deep in the Weald somewhere, a heavily forested part of Kent that covered much of the land. In his desperation to keep Annabel from harm, he had led them deep into the wilderness and even with his knowledge of the land he feared they would not find their way back out. There were small settlements every four or five miles, so he would have to hope they would come across one of those.

  Deciding that the first thing he needed to do was to find somewhere to bathe Annabel, and hopefully find food, he took a few experimental steps. Though his legs were shaky, he was relieved to find they were not as weakened as yesterday. Glancing at the sun and noting its position, he continued westwards until the sun reached its peak in the sky. His ears detected the rush of water and he headed towards it.

  Breaking through the gloom of the forest, the sight of a river greeted him. Nicholas suspected they had come across one of the smaller tributaries of the River Medway. He breathed a sigh of relief – it was likely they would find some sign of civilisation if they followed its course.

  The river was wide at this point, with rocks jutting through the surface causing the water to churn and bubble. Trees lined most of the edge, aside from the shoal that he stood upon, and he could see fish through the clear water further out. It seemed as good a spot as any so he placed Annabel down with care, laying her on his mantle.

  Quickly stripping down to his braies, he shuddered as the cool air hit his skin.

  “Forgive me,” he murmured as he loosened the laces at her neck.

  Carefully peeling the soiled chemise from her, he did his best to keep his eyes averted but he knew the few glimpses of creamy skin would remain etched into his mind forevermore.

  Scooping her into his arms, he waded through the fast flowing water into a calmer spot in the centre of the river. The water bit at his skin but he was grateful for its iciness as it served to keep his desires at bay while Annabel’s naked flesh pressed against his. The pebbled bed of the river was no kinder to him, its sharp stones cutting into his bare feet, but he considered it a penance worth taking. He imagined that if he was asked to walk across flaming embers for her, he would.

  As the water reached waist height Nicholas hunched down, quickly plunging them both into the icy water. Annabel’s eyes flew open as the water rushed about her, seeping into every cut and scrape. Tears beaded in her eyes and Nicholas cradled her into his chest as his heart wrenched for her.

  She burrowed into him, the feel of his bare chest under her cheek seeming to soothe her, and her eyes wavered closed again as she was drawn back into her exhaustive state. Carefully, he dashed the water over her face, removing all traces of the fire. He did his best to scrub at her hair as its thick mass swirled about them, tangling around him like a vine.

  Even as he hauled her out of the water, he could still smell the smoke on her, a sharp reminder of his foolishness. Remorse compounded within him. If he had not sent her away, he could have protected her from ever having to endure such horror. These endless emotions bewildered and terrified him – he could not think of a time when he had ever felt guilt for his actions.

  But then he had never met Annabel before.

  She shivered in his arms as the air met their wet skin and he snatched at his cloak, wrapping it about them both before settling on the pebbled shoal at the edge of the river. Annabel’s shaking form gradually relaxed as his body heat warmed her and the feel of her skin against his served to warm him in ways unwelcome. Unable to withstand the torture any longer, he arranged her carefully in his cloak as he grabbed at her blackened chemise. He regretted he could offer her naught more, longing to cast aside the terror of the fire, but it would have to do.

  Nicholas pulled the garment over her head and she stirred slightly as his hands brushed at her sides. His eyes cast down her length and he bit back a groan as he closed his eyes, pulling the chemise the rest of the way over her by feel. Instead of helping, it served only to increase his awareness of her skin beneath his fingertips and he fought the urge to caress her tantalising limbs.

  Releasing the breath he had been holding, he opened his eyes to bundle back her back up into his cloak only to find her metallic eyes watching him.

  “You’re awake,” he choked out.

  A smile twitched on her mouth as she struggled to sit. Nicholas quickly shifted to her side to ease her up, and he wrapped his mantle around her shoulders as her hair dripped onto the shingles. Annabel wavered and he kept his arm around her as she nestled into him.

  Annabel still felt beyond exhausted. Her lungs ached from the smoke she had inhaled and the scratches scattered across her body stung. Her memory of the fire was hazy, but she couldn’t fail to remember Nicholas bundling her into his arms. He had run, she remembered, his face so focused on his journey that he had never noticed her stir. What was he running from? She knew not, but she trusted that he had good reason to.

  It was as she lay inert in his arms, drifting in and out of dreamland, that she realised how strong her feelings were for him. Something in her heart spoke to her and a reassuring knowledge of this man’s importance struck her quite suddenly. The fire that had slowly been stoked had rapidly sparked, much like the one that had consumed the inn, and had turned into something far deeper than just desire. Its suddenness should have frightened her, but instead it settled into her heart assuredly.

  The hair of his chest tickled at her cheek and she flushed, realising he was in naught but his braies. He seemed entirely unaware of the fact, in spite of the cold bite in the air, and was completely engrossed in seeing to her. She smiled to herself. And he thought himself a man devoid of honour.

  Shifting, she kept gaze to the ground. “Are you not cold?”

  “Aye, forgive me.”

  Nicholas leapt up and she faltered as the support of his arms disappeared. He hesitated as she wearily held herself up.

  Forcing herself to retain a neutral expression, she flicked a look to his face and offered him a reassuring smile. “I am well enough. Pray, see to yourself.”

  As he turned, she released a sigh. The back of him was just as perfect as the front, his muscular shoulders moving with a lithe grace. A silent thrill streamed through her at the knowledge that her bare flesh had been aligned with his, and she wondered if she were a wanton, because she felt no shame. With any other man, mayhap she would have been embarrassed, but she had no compunctions about Nicholas having seen all of her. The very fact that he had come back for her proved his worth.

  Annabel still did not understand why he had sent her away but she suspected it was because he did not wish to dishonour her. He could not deny his desire for her now, for she had seen it in his expression as he had opened his eyes after dressing her, and she was sure that, if he just let himself, he would love her.

  Now fully dressed, she was pleased to note that he had kept her favour and was trying to tie it himself, a frown of frustration on his brow. Stepping unsteadily to her feet, she waited until the dizziness subsided before moving to his side. Annabel wondered if he had been so absorbed in his task that he had not heard her footsteps crunching across the shingle, as he jolted when she placed a hand on his arm.

  Gingerly taking the ribbon from him, she deftly tied it around his upper arm before admiring it with pleasure.

  “You have saved my life twice now.” She fingered the red ribbon. “Yet, I have no favour to give to you this time.”

  She looked at him with her silvered eyes, wide and trusting. A small smile danced on her mouth and Nicholas wondered how such a delicate creature could create such a well of fear within him. He said naught; her proximity robbed him of all words and thoughts.

  “A kiss…” she whispered.

  Annabel rose onto her tiptoes and slowly pressed her lips upon his. He froze, as did his heart, at the feel of her soft mouth, and he clutched h
is hands by his side, aware that his self-restraint was but a hairs breadth away from snapping. The press of her lips scorched his mouth as she purposefully shifted towards him, her soft body flattening against his. His hands became clammy from the urge to grab her, but against all odds he remained motionless.

  Her eyes remained open, locking onto his, and Nicholas found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Sweet Lord, he wished she would not look at him with such faith.

  She pulled back slightly when he still refused to respond to her attentions, but remained close enough that he could feel her breath brushing over his bristled jaw.

  Annabel looked up at him from under a veil of golden lashes. “Will you not kiss me?”

  “I cannot. I must not.” His jaw ticked as his hands clenched and unclenched, tension simmering throughout his body.

  Noticing the movement of his hands, she grabbed one, gently unfurling his fingers. He could have easily pulled from her grasp but she created such a weakness within him that he was unable to do aught aside from watch as she brought his hand to her mouth. She brushed a whisper of a kiss across his knuckles before turning his palm to her mouth. Nicholas found himself mesmerised as she laid her lips upon his palm, their sweet softness sending frissons up his arm.

  Her teasing smile returned as she placed his hand to her cheek and his thumb brushed at the softness of its own accord. A spark of pleasure flashed in her eyes as he brought his other hand up to cup at her face. Tilting her face up to his, he leant forwards.

  “I cannot,” he murmured as he brushed his lips down her nose.

  Her eyes fluttered and closed, and her trusting action wrenched at his heart. Weakened by her belief in him, his lips continued to dance across her face, relishing the feel of her warm skin. Pure rapture combined with a sickening knowledge of his deceit grappled in his gut as he brought his lips to hers.

  Annabel’s hands worked their way up his arms, gripping at his shoulders as his lips grazed tenderly across hers. She felt as if she were in the middle of a tempest as lightening bolted up her spine, causing pinpricks of exhilaration all over her body. His lips worked with such gentleness, carefully coaxing hers to respond. His tongue cautiously delved into her mouth and she gasped as it made contact with hers. Never before had she experienced such a decadent sensation.

  As his mouth slanted across hers, his fingers delved behind her wet hair, bringing her closer to him until they were flush against one another. The friction of his body touching hers was almost unbearable and she moved against his solidity to try and ease the ache that seemed to take hold.

  A groan rumbled from Nicholas’ chest and he deepened the kiss, causing an overwhelming heat to accumulate within her. Already weakened and light headed, Nicholas’ kiss served to deplete any remaining strength and her legs juddered underneath her. His hand came to the base of her spine to support her and she whimpered as the heat of it leached into her skin.

  “Annabel…”

  Nicholas retreated suddenly and she wavered at the sudden loss of his body. He cursed and tugged her back into him. She settled into the cocoon of his chest with an instinctive familiarity, relishing the sound of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. She smiled to herself. He had said her name.

  He loved her.

  “Annabel, you have need of rest.”

  She sighed, unwilling to end the moment. “I cannot possibly be tired. I feel as though I have slept for a sennight.”

  “Not a sennight, but near on two days.”

  Annabel yawned in spite of herself and allowed Nicholas to lead her to the shade of the trees, where the pebbles gave way to grass. She lay down at his bidding and he crouched to wrap his thick mantle around her. Annabel was sure she would get no rest, this being only her second night sleeping with nature, but the watchful presence of Nicholas and the light burbling of the river seemed to make her eyelids droop.

  Reaching out, Nicholas went to stroke across her cheek but paused, a wash of uncertainty in his expression. She willed him on with her eyes, urging him to give into his impulse, and he relented, sweeping an unsteady finger over her skin.

  “I shall watch over you,” he told her sincerely.

  She smiled tiredly at the determination in his voice. “I know.” Fatigue began to fog her mind until something occurred to her. “Nicholas, why were you running?”

  “Sleep on, sweet one. I shall explain all when you awake.”

  Annabel struggled in vain to open her eyes but her heavy lids would not co-operate and she sighed. She was sure she had heard a smile in his voice as he had spoken. How she would dearly love to see him smile.

  Chapter 6

  While the terror of the fire had been all but extinguished by Nicholas’ presence, he could not protect Annabel in her dreams and she slept fitfully. The heat, the horrific sights and the sounds all vied for her attention as she slumbered, recreating every moment of fear that her exhausted mind had blocked out. She woke in a cold sweat, taking a few moments to recognise that she was not burning and suffocating in a fog of flame.

  Her hammering heart failed to calm when she could not see Nicholas. He had promised to watch over her, she remembered, and yet she could not see him. She sat up with a start, her eyes struggling to focus under the bright light of the sun. She had only slept for a couple of hours, she suspected, so it had to be late afternoon. Annabel’s gaze locked onto a flash of black in the water and she realised with a smile that it was Nicholas. He stood a way out, in just his shirt, his sleeves rolled up and the hem dipping in the water. He clutched a wooden spear in one hand, something he had presumably crafted while she slept. Her breath shortened at the handsome figure he cut, his dark chest hair curling over the neckline of his shirt, his powerful thighs becoming revealed with each movement of his body. Nicholas’ eyes were focused on the water, his jaw clenched in determination, and Annabel was glad she was not his quarry, for she would have little chance against such resolve.

  Once again, feelings of safety and comfort enveloped her. Here was a man who would go to the ends of the Earth for her, she was sure. She prayed that she would be able to return home soon and take her with him. Alderweald would be proud to have such a man…as their master? Annabel laughed at herself; he had not even declared any intentions towards her. Yet how could she think otherwise. His devotion to her, the way he looked at her, only served to convince her that they were bound to one another now. Their souls would be forever entwined.

  The water glittered invitingly under the afternoon rays and Annabel felt the need to freshen up, in spite of her impromptu dip at Nicholas’ behest. Hiking up her soiled chemise, she considered how grim she must look in her rags before brushing away such vanity. She was alive and if she had to wear a smoke-stained garment, then so be it. It was hardly a hardship considering what fate had delivered to her.

  Her life and Nicholas.

  Stepping tentatively across the shingles, she made her way to the river edge, gasping as the crisp water swathed around her feet. Annabel giggled as she kicked up some of the water; delighting in the childlike feeling that such carefree behaviour filled her with. It was rare that she experienced such moments and she was grateful for the opportunity. While she tried to take pleasure in life as much as she could, being the mistress of a large demesne rarely afforded her the chance.

  She sensed his dark eyes on her and she looked up, sweeping her hair from her face, to be confronted by an alarming intensity in his gaze. Her heart drummed within the confines of her ribcage and a flush of heat burgeoned through every fibre of her being. Staring at him, she could feel her cheeks redden and her mouth part, as if to draw in more air as it seemed to warm around them. Realising she was gawping; she lowered her eyes, before delivering a bright smile as she watched him from under her lashes.

  Nicholas had watched her sleep for some time before realising they had not eaten in two days. Compelled to take action, he whittled down a branch to create a make-shift spear. Used to hiding out for long periods of time, slipping in and
out of society, he had long since learnt to become a master hunter; the skills gleaned from his orphaned childhood becoming honed over time.

  A giggle had distracted him from his prey and he had been surprised to see Annabel at the water’s edge. He had assumed she would sleep for much longer. Her delight in something so simple had been the first thing he had noticed. She never failed to astound him. She had barely escaped with her life two days ago, after a most harrowing experience, and yet here she was splashing as if she were a child.

  It had then been her creamy legs that had drawn him in, as she held her skirt high above the waterline. It was hard enough to know that he had been touching them only this morning but now she displayed them so shamelessly, it was all he could do not to fall at her knees and beg to kiss them.

  She had caught him staring at her and she stared back, an invisible connection seeming to draw them together. As she looked away with embarrassment, he scolded himself for being so dishonourable, but he couldn’t bring himself to remove his gaze from her. Annabel’s uncommon eyes flicked back up and she granted him a beaming smile causing Nicholas to feel as if he had been struck by an arrow in the heart.

  As the sun settled behind her, it shimmered through her chemise, highlighting every curve, and he scowled then, his impure thoughts angering him.

  “Annabel, you are scaring away the fish,” he snapped at her.

  Her face fell slightly at his harsh words, but she must have realised it was not the fish that she was scaring, as a smile twitched on her lips and he silently cursed her perceptiveness. Was there naught he could hide from this woman? Well, there was one thing, he conceded, the truth about himself, about the beast that he really was.

  Relieved that she had finally retreated, he returned his attention to the fish that had evaded him thus far. After many patient moments spent waiting, he made his move, swiftly spearing a fish.