The Angel's Assassin by Samantha Holt Page A

7
    Taking custody of Alderweald had
been so simple, Lord Benedict could have laughed. And he would have done, had
it not been for the fact that he still had no legal right to it and apparently
his assassin had seemingly gained a conscience.
    He crumpled the
missive that sat in his hand and flung it into the fire pit, hissing in anger.
He looked around for Godfrey and then remembered he wasn’t there so he served himself
some wine and took a large gulp.
    Strolling up to the
solar, he wandered around the large chamber, fingering the fabric of the
curtains, the fine wood carvings and the sheets of the bed. It still smelt of
her, that silly, insipid niece of his. His lips twisted.  That she should
have so much and he should have so little was practically sinful. He, who had
worked hard all his life to serve king and country, and she, who had done
little except smile and charm just about everyone in the county.
    Benedict had found
he’d had to evict all the servants. Their loyalties very obviously lay with
Lady Annabel, as did the men-at-arms. He was grateful he had brought all his
own men. With them interspersed with the Alderweald men, they would not dare
raise arms against him.
    Of course, they had
all greeted him with open arms. And so they should, with all the help that he
had given Annabel this past year, they owed their livelihood to him . As
the rebels departed, surrendering to him, the gratitude was boundless, yet he
knew they would still not accept his as their master.
    The large one,
Gerard his name was, had questioned why Annabel had not accompanied him and he
had been forced to concoct a story. Gerard had seemed unconvinced that the
knight that had rescued her had actually kidnapped Annabel, but he knew better
than to question a lord.
    Benedict clenched
his fist. As if a mere knight had questioned him. He spat on the floor, his
anger forcing bile up his throat.
    And of course the
brave Gerard had volunteered his men to go and find Annabel and bring her back.
Aye, he wanted her back now that he could no longer kill her, but he could not
risk Gerard finding her and lending his protection. Unfortunately this had
triggered suspicion in amongst the men of Alderweald, but his strength in arms
would keep it at bay long enough.
    He knew not what
Annabel understood of his plans for her but from what Godfrey had told him, it
sounded as though the assassin had realised there was a change of plan. How
very like Annabel to have convinced a hired killer to protect her.
    Peering out of the
window, he admired the bailey and the village. Soon it would all be his. He
just needed Annabel back. Once she was back, she was sure to buckle to his
will.
    ***
    Travelling on for another two
days, Annabel and Nicholas kept to the river’s edge, following it until it
thinned out. Both of them were still exhausted so they made slow progress and
the river’s meandering path meant they travelled little distance, but until
Nicholas knew where they were he was reluctant to leave its course.
    Sleeping by the
riverside each night, somehow Annabel persuaded Nicholas to curl up with her.
Part of him felt more comfortable knowing that she was safe in his arms, and he
found he could rest well in her comforting company, but his need for her
strengthened with each touch to her exquisite form.
    He had managed to
avoid kissing her again…with difficulty. Though she had not pushed him, he knew
she wanted him to. Her hypnotic gaze and plump lips called to him and he spent
much of the time simply avoiding looking at her.
    Soon they came upon
a small settlement, little more than a collection of small huts, and they
discovered they were not far from a large town and that they had crossed the
border into Surrey. They had indeed covered little distance but Nicholas was
grateful to be within an hour’s reach of a town he knew well. He could gather
supplies and mayhap some useful information.
    A motherly old lady
offered them a pallet for the night, assuming they