“I’d rather die first,” Nicholas spat at him.
Benedict chuckled. “Well, we do not want that. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I suspect my charitable niece will be begging to exchange places with you before long. She is terribly soft-hearted, as I’m sure you discovered.”
Annabel’s chin snapped up, a silent fire filling her. “Not that soft-hearted, Uncle. You have seen to that.”
He merely raised an eyebrow before motioning to the ever silent Godfrey to move out. With a distinct lack of grace, Godfrey positioned himself behind her and Annabel had to suppress a shudder of repulsion as his stench suffocated her and his weighty body pressed into hers. She straightened her back in an attempt to put some distance between them but his paunch rested against her.
They set off at a slow pace, hindered by the black night, and Annabel offered up a prayer of thanks as she heard Nicholas’ even footsteps behind them. However, as the pale light of dawn crested, they picked up speed, forcing Nicholas into a jog as he was hauled along behind them. He was exhausted already and she knew he would not last long at such a pace.
She shifted in her seat constantly, so as to get a better view of him and she saw his chin clench in determination every time he met her gaze. Annabel admired his stubborn pride but she could not help watch him with apprehension.
Before night fell once more, Benedict proclaimed himself tired and they stopped in a clearing for the night. Annabel sighed in relief, she was exhausted and she couldn’t imagine how Nicholas was faring.
Godfrey untied her wrists as her uncle hissed a warning to her. “Try and escape and I shall kill him.”
“I’ll not let you hurt him, Uncle.”
He grabbed her chin roughly. “Behave yourself and I won’t have to.”
Annabel longed to go to Nicholas, to offer him comfort through his exhaustion, but they left him bound to the mount and, though he refused to reveal his fatigue, Annabel could see the relief as he sank to the ground next to the horse. Godfrey sat close by, the threat of his sword ensuring her silence just as the threat of her uncle’s dagger ensured his.
Benedict had her settle next to him and Annabel made no protest, fearing for Nicholas’ welfare under Godfrey’s cruel stare. As the night darkened, she found she was unable to see him through the gloom but she could feel his eyes on her and it offered her a strange sense of reassurance. Comforted, she attempted to rest, knowing she would need all her strength for the coming days. Particularly if she was to keep her wits about her now that her uncle had revealed his true colours.
***
A hand pushed roughly at her, waking her from a groggy sleep. Her mouth was dry, her eyes gritty and her head pounded as she pulled herself to sitting. Godfrey stared down at her through his lifeless eyes and Annabel shuddered under his attentions. Attempting to hide the anxiety he caused, she smiled brightly.
“Good morrow, Godfrey, I trust you slept well?”
His lips twitched into a sneer and he grunted before turning away from her. Annabel chuckled inwardly, pleased to have disconcerted the silent henchman.
Her eyes latched onto Nicholas, who was as grim faced as ever. However, a silent resolution sat in his eyes and it emboldened her. Fearful of provoking any reaction from Godfrey, who watched their mute exchange, she remained quiet as she eased to standing.
Annabel was once again bound to the mount as her uncle and Godfrey broke their fast with some dried fruit and ale. Her stomach grumbled as they ate but they offered neither she nor Nicholas any. She only hoped they would be fed soon. Surely if her uncle had gone to such efforts to capture her, he would wish to keep her alive?
With no need for secrecy, their small troupe journeyed along the more well-travelled routes. It was both a curse and a blessing as it meant their ride would not be as arduous as the one that she and Nicholas had taken. However, the boggy roads made it difficult for Nicholas to remain upright and by the end of the second day much of him was caked in mud.
They were finally fed that eve, Godfrey having picked up supplies at the last village, and they all ate greedily with little show of obstinate pride.
Nicholas’ exhaustion finally took its toll the next day and Annabel could not prevent herself from crying it out as he fell and was dragged behind the horse.
“Uncle, pray stop! You will kill him.”
Benedict paused, pulling his mount to a stop, and Godfrey followed suit.
Sneering as he considered the crumpled man, he grinned at Annabel. “Shall you take his place then, Annabel?”
“Aye, if I must!”
Her uncle frowned with displeasure at her response. Untying Nicholas, he pulled him to his feet.
Nicholas stared at him with gritted teeth, pure loathing written on his face.
“I told you of my niece’s charitable nature. Think yourself blessed that she thinks so highly of you. If it were not for her you would already be dead.” Benedict released his grip on Nicholas and he collapsed to the floor once more.
“Godfrey!” Benedict snapped. “You can walk. If Annabel cares so much for this fallen knight, then she can have care of him. I am weary of this slow pace. ”
Godfrey dismounted, just suppressing his displeasure at having to give up his spot for Nicholas. With a grunt, he lifted Nicholas, throwing him violently over Annabel’s lap.
Annabel cried out at the sudden weight, but she was grateful for the opportunity to be so close to him. He seemed to pass into a state of oblivion as she stroked tenderly at his hair while Benedict set up the gruelling pace once more.
For two more days and nights, they travelled like this, Annabel offering what reassurances she could to her brave knight. One the final day of travelling, Nicholas regained some energy and Benedict, upon noticing this, forced him back into walking. Annabel’s protests fell upon deafened ears and it was with great relief that they returned to Alderweald, glad that Nicholas’ suffering would now be over.
***
There was a subdued air as they entered the keep. The bailey still revealed the signs of the fierce battle and a grim tension imbued the air. Annabel looked desperately around for her most trusted men but she could see few of them. Her men were accompanied by many of her uncle’s, likely insuring none could raise a sword.
Inside the keep not a man was to be seen. The servants had disappeared and the castle seemed lifeless and cold. Her men and servants were loyal and brave but she prayed they had not fought against Lord Benedict, for she could see now that he was a merciless man.
The Great Hall, once a place for feasting and jollity, was cold, the grey stone as dark as her fears. The colourful tapestries looked gloomy and foreboding without the lit torches and candles. She stared briefly at the high ceiling, wondering if Benedict had been sleeping in her chambers. The thought sent shudder of repulsion through her.
Drawing off his gloves and setting them down on the table at the back of the hall, Benedict bestowed her with a tight smile.
Motioning to Nicholas dismissively, he ordered Godfrey to place him in the donjon. Annabel bit back a cry as she watched him be dragged away from her. He fought briefly against Godfrey’s tight grip but his strength had left him and all he could do was call out her name as he was hauled outside.
Furious, Annabel glared at her uncle. He had invaded her home, taken away all comfort that she felt in it and now he was imprisoning her lover.
“What do you intend to do with him, Uncle?”
Crooking a finger, he beckoned her forwards before stabbing at some parchment that sat on the table.
“Concede Alderweald to me and sign this. Then I shall release your precious Nicholas.”
Annabel looked over the parchment. “This is a confession of treachery. You would ask me to sign my life away?”
“Yours or his, Annabel, that is your choice. Fear not, the king will not harm you. Your fate shall be far preferable to the one that I intended for you. Mayhap you shall just be imprisoned or even banished if you are lucky.”
&
nbsp; “And you shall have Alderweald…”
“That is the idea, dear one. So if you shall just sign away here, I will release our prisoner.”
“You will not. And I will not sign nor will I hand over control of Alderweald. I do not trust you to leave him unharmed, should I concede. Do what you will but I will not admit to treachery.”
Annabel couldn’t see how she could escape this situation but she felt a determination rise within her. Much like the determination she had witnessed in Nicholas. He inspired her to hold herself strong and she felt a renewed courage.
His face reddened with frustration. “By the stars, this is not some jest. Do you wish the death of that man to weigh on your soul?”
“If you kill him, I still will not sign and where will that leave you? You shall lose your leverage and grip on me.”
Benedict stepped closer, his lips turned up in a snarl. “You are bluffing, child. I know you, Annabel. You are soft.”
Raising her chin, she met his chilling glare. She knew full well she could not let Nicholas come to harm but she would not let her uncle see that.
“Once I was, mayhap. The events of this sennight have shown me much of my own strength.” She released a small smile of satisfaction. “You see, Uncle, in forcing me from my home, you have damaged your cause for I will not bow to your will now.”
“God’s teeth!” He slammed his fist into the table, causing the candelabra on it to jump.
“Pray tell, Uncle, why this elaborate plot? There were surely easier ways to gain control of Alderweald?”
“One would think,” he said depreciatively. “Unfortunately your men are too loyal and you are too highly thought of by the king. Any attempt on your life proved nearly impossible and I could not outright kill you. Your reputation with the king is somewhat fairer than mine, I fear.”
Annabel shook her head in disbelief. “You have gone to much trouble to see me unseated. You wished for me to meet with an accident while I was gone I presume? Why then did you send Nicholas? Surely you would have known such a man would not fail in his duty to protect me?”
“You seem to put a lot of faith in that man.” He watched her curiously as if awaiting a reaction.
“Why would I not? He has saved my life twice.”
“It pains me to inform you, Niece, that the man is naught but a hired assassin.”
Annabel laughed. “You lie.”
“Nay, unfortunately not. I know, you see, because I hired him myself. He was to kill you…until he changed his mind…” he added bitterly.
Annabel blinked. Nicholas? An assassin? She had begun to think her uncle had lost his wits, his desperate need for power driving him to commit absurd and wicked deeds, but did he really think she would believe such a tale?
“Nicholas would never hurt me.”
“Mayhap not now. But he has hurt many. He is a wicked man and you have sullied yourself, child, by dealing with the devil.”
“Say what you will, Uncle, for I will listen no longer.” She turned away, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Mayhap this will make you see the truth.” He handed her a crumpled piece of paper. “Here is a missive recommending Nicholas. He thought he could remain nameless of course, but he underestimated my reach.”
Reluctantly she dragged her eyes across the missive. It described a man of Nicholas’ likeness before naming him. Her mouth dropped open and she could feel her stomach churn. Nay, this must be some forgery. Another terrible part of her uncle’s outlandish plan.
But her mind could not help but question her own conviction.
The forest, when he had practically chased her away. He had told he was dangerous then. Was he trying to tell her of his awful duty?
Her uncle watched her with gleeful eyes. “You see it now, don’t you, child? Do you still wish to protect him?”
She crumpled the paper in her hands and threw it to the floor defiantly. “Take me to him. I would hear the truth from his own lips. I trust not the word of a traitor.”
Benedict brushed a finger over his mouth, enjoying himself. “As you bid.”
Chapter 9
Godfrey’s meaty fingers pressed into her arm, no doubt soiling it with his sweaty fingerprints. She was flung roughly into the cell, crumbling in a heap as the iron bars slammed shut behind her.
Nicholas cried out her name, his voice tinged with relief at the sight of her. She remained where she was, curled double, afraid to lay eyes on him. Would she see the truth if she did? Out of the sight of her uncle, her courage had deserted her.
His hands grabbed at her arms, hauling her to her feet as he looked her over frantically. “Annabel, are you well? Did he hurt you?”
“Is it true?” she whispered.
Nicholas dropped his hands and she risked a look at him. His expression told her everything. Her uncle had been telling the truth.
Her voice shook as she stared at him coldly. “You were to kill me?”
He stared at her, his face a frozen mask of anguish.
“Nicholas?!” she fairly shouted.
“Aye,” he said quietly.
Her eyes flew wide and she stumbled back from him, clutching at her stomach and doubling over.
“But pray believe me; I would never have done it. I could never hurt you, angel.”
His hand reached out tentatively to her but she smacked it away. If he touched her, she would surely be lost again - deceived by his gentle touch once more. How could a man that had loved her so tenderly have actually intended to kill her? Had it all been some twisted game?
She sucked in an unsteady breath before straightening. “You have killed before?” she asked quietly.
“Aye.”
“Many men?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, God.” Her stomach rolled again. “Do you repent your actions?”
Nicholas looked at her uneasily. “I cannot say that I do.”
Annabel stared at him in shock. He did not care that he had ended many lives by his own hand? How could this be? Was she that bad a judge of character that she had managed to fall in love with a man who knew naught of honour?
“I tell you this…” he reached for her hand, but she pulled it back, clutching it to her chest. “I tell you this, because I wish to lie to you no longer.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “I lay myself at your feet, Annabel, for you to judge me as you will. I take no pride in my actions. I have lived my life in detachment, driven by naught but greed. Those deaths do not weigh on my soul because I was a different man, but I swear to you, that man stands before you no longer.”
She eyed him with mistrust, as his dark eyes pleaded with her. Coldness and anger stirred in her belly, frightening her. “Why should I take your word that you have changed? How can a man change so suddenly? I believe it not.”
“‘Twas you, Annabel. You wrought the change. I will not ask your forgiveness for I do not deserve such a kindness, but pray allow me to continue in my duty.”
“Your duty?” Wasn’t his duty to kill her?
“Aye, I believe I was sent to you to protect you. It has become my duty now and I would do all I can to see you safe.”
“You’re asking me to trust you with my life? A man that makes his living through death?”
“I am.” He bowed his head.
The anger that had been boiling inside of her unleashed itself, unlike any other emotion she had experienced before. “You, who once accused me of being too trusting, would ask this of me? You have destroyed that trust, Nicholas!”
He looked up at her in surprise at her outburst.
Her heart hammered in her chest as her throat constricted with unspent tears. “You have destroyed me,” she added huskily.
Nicholas’ eyes closed briefly. When his eyes opened they reflected the pain that echoed inside of her heart. It weakened her and she tried to force the anger to fill her once more, but all she could feel was sadness. Sadness for herself, and sadness for a man so lost.
He
reached for her again and this time she allowed him to hold her hand.
“Do not touch me,” she muttered weakly. “I hate you.”
It felt like a lie, even as the words left her mouth she knew they were not true, much as she wanted them to be. Could she really still love a man so depraved?
“I know,” he whispered.
They stayed like that for several heartbeats, Nicholas at her feet, imploring her to trust him. Her heart felt as if it were split in two, the pain of his betrayal was agonising. Part of her – the part that always saw the good in people – wanted to believe him, but the part that had emerged when the truth about him had been revealed could not let her forgive such wickedness.
A lone tear spilled out, trickling down her cheek, and Nicholas jumped to his feet, forgetting himself and intending to offer her comfort. He pulled her roughly into his embrace and she struggled momentarily as he pressed her head to his chest. She ceased as sobs overwhelmed her and his heart throbbed excruciatingly, hating himself for hurting her so. He could feel dampness welling in his own eyes.
Her weeping subsided slowly and she tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes searching for something in his. Nicholas dragged his hands over her cheeks, swiping away the dampness, and he wished that he could express his sorrow for causing such hurt. Words would not come, for how could he possibly find them? He was powerless under her accusing eyes and all he could manage to do was lower his lips to hers in the hope of one last taste.
Annabel gasped at the contact and a sob bubbled up from her chest as her hands clamped around his head, holding him forcefully to her. Desire and the fear of losing her consumed Nicholas, stripping him of all reason, and he plundered her mouth as he gripped her to him. The beast in him unleashed as her nails scrabbled across the back of his neck and he grabbed at her hips, pinching his fingers into them.
“I hate you,” she whispered as she returned his kiss with fire, her lips painfully demanding, and they clashed again and again.
Forcing her back, they stumbled until Annabel’s back slammed into the damp stone wall. She cried out at the contact but Nicholas silenced it with another assault of her mouth as he pressed her against the wall. He clumsily worked his hands over her body, trying to memorise every part of her. Her fingers came about the neck of his shirt and she tore at it with frustration until it gave way, the ripping sound only spurring them on.
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