The Angel's Assassin (18 page)

The woman in front of him shook
with terror and anger, her wide eyes glued to the spectacle in front of her.
Lord Benedict lay at their feet, blood pooling behind his head, his sallow eyes
open. Behind him, Godfrey groaned in the last throes of death.

Nicholas had turned
just in time to see Annabel launch her attack on Benedict.

She had saved him.

He was astounded.
He was meant to be the one saving her, not the other way around.

She visibly paled and
Nicholas saw her legs waver beneath her as she dropped the heavy candelabra
with a thud. Quickly coming to her side, he put an arm around her waist,
steadying her as he tilted her face to his, checking her for injuries.

“Are you hurt,
angel?”

She shook her head,
gulping as she turned her head away from the scene.

Nicholas resisted
the urge to clutch her tightly to him, even though she looked as if she might
collapse at any time. Relief mingled with pure desolation filled his chest. She
was safe now and she no longer needed him. He had done his duty and though she
may not have succeeded in saving his soul, she had saved his life and he could
ask naught more of her.

“I…I thank you, Nicholas,”
her voice wavered. “I know not what would have happened had it not been for
your determination.”

“Sweet one, I think
you would have found a way out. It seems I have need of you more than you have
need of me.”

Hurriedly
extracting herself from his grip, Nicholas recognised the hurt that still
lingered in her hypnotic eyes and he stopped himself from hauling her back into
his arms.

Annabel glanced
around him at her uncle’s body. “Is he...?”

Nicholas nodded
grimly.

Her hand flew to
her mouth. “Oh, sweet Lord. I shall be hung.”

“You will not,
Annabel.”

She stared up at
him with desperation. “Do you not see? The king has already had his ear filled
with tales of my treachery. He shall never believe the word of a traitor. My
uncle will have died by a traitor’s hand and I shall see death for it.”

Nicholas grabbed
her hand. “Annabel, pray listen. You will not die, I will not allow it.”

“You? And pray tell
what will you do? I cannot skulk into the shadows like a nameless beast as you
do.”

“Nay, and you will
not have to. Benedict told me that the king did not believe his lies. Your men
will side with you; you did what you had to.”

Annabel chewed at
her lip, fear still written on her face.

“Offer the king my
neck. I shall admit all and tell him of your uncle’s plot.”

She stared at him
in horror and he waited, his heart pounding as if he were facing the noose
already.

“Nay,” she shook
her head vigorously. “I cannot. I shall trust that the king will take me at my
word.”

Nicholas was
overtaken by simultaneous emotions of joy and sorrow. The joy stemmed from
knowing that she would not send him to his death, but the sorrow took root with
the knowledge that he would have to live with the pain he had caused her. He
would have to live knowing there was a woman out there that had once loved him
and whom he would love until the end of his days.

Annabel shook her
head. “I still cannot believe my uncle would deliberately invite the rebels to
Alderweald and risk all of our lives.” Her eyes flicked to his. “Why would you
offer up your life?”

Nicholas’ heart
buffeted against his chest as her eyes fastened onto his, the futile hope that
she would forgive him still lingering. “I wished for you to make the choice, my
life is yours to do as you will with it. I have fulfilled my duty now.”

“Aye.” She watched
him sadly. “You have done that.”

An intense look
passed between them as they eyed each other, both weighing each other’s
intents. Nicholas realised he was holding his breath and he released it quickly
when she offered naught more. A subdued groan announced the passing of Godfrey
and Annabel seemed to suddenly remember the dead men occupying the hall. She
blanched as she glanced at the blood soaked bodies.

“Annabel, go to
your chamber. I shall inform the men-at-arms that you are mistress once again
and we shall see the keep to rights.” He reached for her arm, intending to lead
her upstairs but she recoiled from his hold.

“Nay!” she
exclaimed. Gathering herself, she raised her chin and held him with a firm
gaze. “This is my keep and I shall do my duty. I hope you find forgiveness, but
forgive
me
, Nicholas, for I cannot offer it. I just cannot. Pray go, and
do not return.” Her voice fractured as she uttered the last part.

He froze as his
heart shattered inside and Nicholas realised that there would be no redeeming
himself. Any honourable actions from him had come too late and could not make
up for a lifetime of sin. In his heart, he already knew that, but a small
measure of him had believed that Annabel’s compassionate nature would re-emerge
and all would be well once more.

Sighing, he
clenched his jaw to hold back the emotions that threatened to take hold. “Aye,
my lady,” he said formally.

With stiff fingers,
he untied the tattered ribbon from his arm and held it out to her.

She glanced down
briefly. “Keep it, ‘twas a gift.”

“Aye, to an
honourable man…”

“Go and find your
honour.”

She considered him
despondently before turning her back on him, her shoulders shaking.

Nicholas looked from
the ribbon to her quaking body and shook his head. Loosening his fingers he let
the ribbon drop, watching it flutter to the floor.

Before he could
weaken further, he spun on his heel and strode away from her, deafening himself
to the sound of distress she made. Slamming open the main door, he hastened
down the outer stairs. It took all his strength to continue forwards, to resist
the urge to fall to his knees and crawl his way to her feet. Nicholas
recognised that the best thing he could do for Annabel was to do as she asked
and leave. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but he did it. He
walked out of Alderweald and never looked back.

The sounds of
resonant snoring greeted Annabel as she entered the solar. With a fond smile, she
looked over at the rounded form that was Matilda. Sat on a wooden chair in a
darkened corner, it was hard to tell the slumbering creature was a woman – her
shadowy outline and guttural sounds gave her the appearance of a beast – but
Matilda was currently the only servant Annabel trusted enough to leave in the
solar unattended.

Annabel had become
increasingly fond of her solitude as late, and most of the servants knew to
stay clear of the solar in the evening. She no longer drew comfort from the
company of others and Annabel didn’t doubt the cause. No matter how hard she
tried, a pair of glittering black eyes haunted her every thought.

Stepping lightly
across the large floor, the candles flickered as she brushed past, skirting the
small oak table which was once surrounded by her maids. A fire roared in the
grate and, though the shutters did not keep out all light, it was a dark night.
As the chamber spanned the entire top floor it meant that the room was shrouded
in shadow. Annabel somehow found comfort in the alternating warm glow of flame
and gloomy corners. It leant the room a feeling of cosiness that the harsh
sunlight did not.

Gently shaking
Matilda awake with a hand to her shoulder, the older woman jumped, her eyes
becoming wide when she recognised her mistress.

“Oh, milady,
forgive me. I was just closing me eyes. I weren’t ignoring me duties.”

Annabel smiled.
“‘Tis well enough, Mattie. Be off with you now, I’ll call for you should I need
you.”

The stout woman nodded
as she stood and smiled in response. “Aye, milady. Mind ye get some rest, ye
have an ailing look about ye.”

“I will.”

Annabel took no
offence at her words. She was right. Dark rings circled her eyes and she was
looking more ashen by the day. Part of it was lack of sleep but part of it was
the regret that seemed to pursue her incessantly.

Watching the woman
shuffle out of the solar, a glint atop the fireplace caught her eye. With a
frown, she moved over to the fireplace, her confusion slowly becoming replaced
with disbelief. Her fingers danced over the gold necklace that laid waiting for
her, assuring her it was real. Fingering the chain, she could see where it must
have snapped from her neck in the fire.

A quiver shot up
her spine as she picked up the necklace, folding it into her palm. She
straightened abruptly. A feeling resounded in her senses, one she had not felt
for too long.

“Nicholas?”

Annabel didn’t
turn, just waited, her breath catching.

A footstep echoed
and she turned wildly towards the sound as Nicholas stepped from the shadows in
the corner. Her legs shook violently as he tentatively took a step towards her,
bringing his face into the light of the fire.

Dark circles
surrounded his eyes, brought out by the ill-light of the chamber, and he looked
weary. Wearier even, than her. His mouth was pulled into a grim line and the
stubble that normally shrouded his jawline was thick and coarse.

They stared at each
other for a while, taking in the changes that almost four seasons had wrought.
When Nicholas finally spoke, Annabel jolted.

“How…how did you
know I was here?”

His voice, in spite
of being little more than a murmur, reverberated through her, renewing the ache
that she had tried so hard to forget.

“Why are you here?”
Her own voice came out barely more than a croak as hidden emotions clawed their
way up her throat, begging to be released.

Nicholas glanced to
the floor. “Forgive me, I intended not for you to see me. I wished only to see
your necklace returned to you.”

She opened her hand
to look at her mother’s necklace once more before placing it carefully back
onto the fireplace. “How did you find it?”

“Surely it matters
not, my lady. ‘Tis returned to you now.”

It couldn’t have
been an easy feat. If it had been found inside the inn’s wreckage it would
likely have been sold or bartered. Nicholas must have searched long and hard
for it.

“I thank you for
your efforts, Nicholas. It must have taken much time to find it. ‘Twas most
precious to me…”

“I know,” he
murmured.

“Nicholas-”

A shrill cry sounded
from the back of the chamber, interrupting her. Nicholas turned his head with a
start and Annabel scurried over to the curtained partition where the child lay
in his cradle. Cooing and shushing to the babe, she scooped him up, settling
the infant into her arms. He settled instantly in his mother’s arms, his
high-pitched cries giving way to burbling sounds of joy.

Nicholas stared at
Annabel as she returned to stand in front of him, babe in arms. Astonishment
revealed itself on his face as he looked over the dark haired child.

Annabel looked up
at him with a cautious smile. “Will you not hold your son?”

“Son?” His voice
came out strangled.

Merely nodding, she
held the infant out. “His name is Joshua.”

From the look in
his eyes, Annabel didn’t need to tell him why she had named him so. Joshua
meant salvation.

Tentatively taking
the babe from her, he positioned him into the crook of his arm. Joshua looked
up at his father with the same dark eyes before nestling into him, obviously
satisfied with the comfort Nicholas provided.

Nicholas watched
him in awe before brushing a tremulous finger across the soft thatch of hair
that crowned the infants head.

He looked back to
Annabel, a haunted look in his eyes. She could not mistake the emotion that
simmered behind them.

“I did not know…”
Nicholas took a gulp, seemingly trying to keep his emotions in check. “I thank
you for allowing me to see him.”

Her eyes glittered
as he handed Joshua back to her, the reluctance behind the movement clear. The
babe merely sighed as he was passed between them, entirely unaware of the
cloying emotions that ran between his parents.

Annabel studied the
man in front of her, comparing him to the demon she had thought him to be.

Thought him to be,
but never really believed.

Aye, he had lived
most sinfully but there was not a chance that the same man could hold his child
with such undisguised love. Nicholas had been right, he was a changed man. And
she, who believed in redemption more than any other, had been unable to see
that. There would be no forgetting his past, for it was too evil a past to
dismiss, but could there be a chance for his redemption? And was she, as he
believed, the woman who was to set him on the right path?

She had been
studying him for some time, she realised, but he had not noticed for he was too
absorbed with the sight of her and the babe, his eyes flicking with regret
between the two. He moved back slightly, as if unable to bear the sight any
longer, turning his head to the fire.