A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series (17 page)

William waited in the courtyard for a long while. He stared at the doorway, looking for Grace. He looked at the stars, at the walkways where the guards were stationed at their posts, but eventually his gaze was drawn to the doorway again. Something was amiss. He could feel it in his bones. Enough time had passed for Grace to talk with her father and explain their situation.

He walked into the keep. His senses were heightened. He had to find Grace. There was an urgency to his mission. Her father didn’t know about the assassin.

The hallway was barren as he looked first one way and then the next. Noises came from the courtyard. Someone shouted to another person. A horse whinnied. He started to move down the hallway when he heard a door open. William whirled. Lord Alan walked toward him, a grumbling cough causing him to cover his mouth as he moved. When Lord Alan saw him, he began to move toward William with resolve.

William waited for him. “M’lord,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I’ve returned your daughter.”

He nodded. “Yes, you did,” he agreed.

Was that disappointment in his tone? William scowled. “Grace and I wish to fulfill your wish and be married.”

“I’m afraid after speaking with her, she told me she wanted nothing to do with you.”

William took a quick inhale of utter astonishment.

“I’m sure she confessed her love to you, as she did to Sir Curtis. She uses her love and her body as a means to get what she wants. And she wanted to return home. That was all.”

That was not the truth. She wasn’t like that. William didn’t believe what Lord Alan said, but why would the man lie to him? “What of your vow to my father?”

“Yes. Well, that is difficult for me. But I cannot force my daughter into a marriage she does not want.”

Prickles danced along William’s neck. That was exactly what he was doing before. He was forcing Grace to marry him. William was certain the man was lying to him. “Where is Grace? I would like to speak with her.”

“She said she didn’t want to see you again.”

The words set William’s jaw on edge. If he had harmed her...

“I know this must come as a blow to you. After I agreed and all. But you must understand...”

William stood, rooted to the ground. What could he do? His mind raced. He couldn’t leave Grace, and yet he saw no alternative. He nodded. “I have traveled a great distance, Lord Alan,” he said. “And returned your daughter to you. Perchance I might ask a cup of ale and a warm meal before I depart?”

Lord Alan nodded. Suddenly, a cough bubbled from his throat. He caught it with his fisted hand and one cough turned into two and then more until he was bent over in a fit.

William put his hand on Lord Alan’s shoulder. “Do you need help? Should I send for a physician?”

Lord Alan shook his head. “I shall be all right.” He removed a piece of cloth from his sleeve. The white fabric was stained with splotches of smeared blood.

William knew he would not be all right. It was only a matter of time. He had seen it before. The man was dying. William withdrew his hand from Lord Alan’s shoulder.

Lord Alan straightened, dabbing at his lips with the material. “Yes. Yes. You shall have your meal. Go into the Great Hall. I shall have it brought to you immediately.”

William turned to go when something caught his eye. The material Lord Alan used to wipe his mouth was embroidered with a black cat in the center. He had seen that black cat before. But where? He nodded. “Thank you, Lord Alan.”

Lord Alan’s shoulder’s drooped. “I will be unable to join you. For at the moment, I am fatigued.”

William nodded and watched the man move past him toward the stairs and the upper chambers. That black cat grated his nerves. He had seen it before. He could see it clear as day in his minds’ eye. But he couldn’t place it. That damned cat, William thought. He looked at Lord Alan’s retreating back again before heading into the Great Hall.

Grace shook the door again, but no one came to unlock it. She glanced around the room. It was dark except for the dying fire in the hearth behind the judgment chair. She leaned against the door, staring at the fire. He had killed her mother! Sadness engulfed her. How could he have done that? How could he have killed the woman he professed to love? Because he had never loved her mother. Just as he had never loved her. That would explain why he hated her so much. Why he wanted her to be miserable.

But none of it mattered now. She had to find William.

William. She wondered what her father was telling William, what ugly words he was using to hurt him. William had endured enough. He didn’t need more lies and more pain.

She stepped away from the door and began to walk around the room, looking for some way out. There had to be something she could use to escape.

He wasn’t her father. That explained the hatred she saw when she looked in his eyes, the disgust that curled his lips when he saw her. But it didn’t really. He had raised her as his own. She was still his daughter.

Suddenly, she heard the bolt sliding. Someone was unlocking the door. Anticipation surged within her. Was it William? Had he found her? But then she realized how unlikely that would be. It must be her father coming back to hurl insults and lies.

The door swung open. Desperation and dread left her breathless as fear tightened within her.

The assassin stood in the doorway.

CHAPTER 19

G
race backed away from the
door toward the hearth.

The assassin stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

Her heart pounded. He was the man she had seen in the woods at Curtis’s cottage. She recognized his thick dark beard. “It was you. You killed Emily,” she whispered.

He said nothing as he moved toward her. Slowly, almost as if enjoying the moment, he produced a dagger from his belt. The silver blade shone in the firelight.

Firelight. Grace glanced down at the dying fire, spotting a log that had been partially burned.

“You are hard to kill,” the man said softly.

She grabbed the log with both hands, burning one of her hands in the process, and yanked the wood out of the hearth. Embers sprayed about the room as she quickly raised the log up, holding it before her.

The assassin covered his face as tiny barbs of flame shot toward him.

Grace saw her chance. She raced past the assassin and was almost to the door when it opened. Thinking her father was returning, she lifted the log to hit him. All her thoughts centered on escape. Escaping her father. Escaping the assassin. Escaping. She froze as the man entered. Even though his face was shadowed in blackness, she would know him anywhere. “William.” She dropped the smoking log and launched herself into his arms.

He caught her easily, his gaze locked on the assassin. He eased her to the side so he could pull out his sword.

Grace looked up at him. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

His entire focus was on the assassin near the hearth. “Are you hurt?” he asked Grace, keeping his gaze on the deadly killer before him.

“No,” Grace answered.

William stood before her like a tower of death. His sword shone in the firelight. “I remembered where I saw that cat,” he whispered.

The assassin pulled on a thin leather cord that hung around his neck, drawing forth a pendant that dangled from the end of the cord. He held the pendant before the fire. It cast a black shadow of a cat on the wall. “The black cats are deadly and lethal. Highly trained.”

“Highly expendable,” William snarled.

The assassin tucked the pendant back into his tunic.

“My father hired him,” Grace said softly. “It wasn’t Curtis.”

“Your father is responsible for Emily’s death?” William asked in surprise. He gritted his teeth.

“You’ll never prove that,” the man near the fire vowed.

William raised his sword. “I won’t have to.”

Grace stepped back. She moved to the door and quietly closed it, sealing the three of them in the room. She didn’t want anyone interfering, least of all her father.

“Not very noble of you, eh William?” the assassin said, displaying his dagger, and indicating William’s sword with a jerk of his chin.

“You killed an innocent woman,” William accused. “My cousin.”

“Unfortunate. She wasn’t the woman I was after.”

Anger pulsed through William. He had killed Emily as a mistake. Taken her life because he had meant to kill Grace. He had no intention of letting him near her. And he would avenge Emily. There would be no mercy for this killer. William took a step toward him. Evil came in many forms.

The assassin threw the dagger at him and drew his sword.

William knocked the dagger aside with his sword only seconds before the assassin attacked. William deflected the first blow and answered with his own swipe. The clangs rang out, echoing through the air. William refused to circle or give him ground. He would not let him get a foot closer to Grace, not an inch. It took all of his skill to keep the man back. He was an excellent fighter. The swords blazed through the air, arcing and clashing again and again.

He was good. But he wasn’t a trained knight. He kept to the shadows, attacking his prey in the dark. Faced with a sword, head to head, the assassin was not skilled enough. It took William only moments to find a weak spot in his style and he took advantage, thrusting. His mighty movement drove his weapon forward, past the assassin’s sharp sword, into his armorless stomach. Surprise washed over Peter’s face.

William had seen death many times before. From an innocent archbishop to soldiers in battle to his defenseless cousin. This was, truly, the only satisfying death. He thrust his sword deeper into the man’s stomach. “For Emily,” he whispered. William immediately felt a burning sensation in his arm and looked down. The assassin had pricked him with a small dagger near his elbow. William knocked it aside. It didn’t matter. He had avenged Emily. He had saved Grace.

A small smile turned up the corner of the man’s bearded lips before he slumped forward. William pushed him backward, off of his sword. He stood over him, staring down at the corpse. The image of Emily’s dead body come to his mind. It didn’t bring her back. He would never see her smiling face again, hear her teasing words. But this man would never be able to kill again. And that was some sort of satisfaction.

William turned to Grace. She stood near the door, watching.

She lurched forward into his arms. “Are you all right?”

He caught her, holding her. Relief swept through him. No one would try to hurt Grace again. She was safe. He bent his head and rested his cheek on her golden hair. It was over.

There came an urgent knock on the door. “M’lady?”

William stepped away from Grace. He held up a hand to her, signaling her to wait, and eased the door open to find a servant girl. Her brow was furrowed in concern. William opened the door further until the servant saw Grace. She curtseyed. “Pardons, m’lady. But it’s your father. He has collapsed.”

Grace moved forward. “Where?”

The servant girl led the way down the corridor.

William grabbed Grace’s arm. “Grace! We should leave. Your father tried to have you killed.”

“I know,” she answered. “But he is sick. He is dying.” She turned and followed the servant down the hallway.

William took a step after her. The room tilted to the side. Stunned, he stood as the room around him moved. He glanced back at the assassin on the floor. Was this some sort of trick? Then he looked at his arm where the assassin had stuck him. Dread filled him. He raced after Grace. The cool air of the hallway cleared his head momentarily. He saw her running into a stairwell and called to her, but she didn’t stop. He continued after her. The hallway darkened around him, hedging in from the borders, but he continued on. He had to reach her. He entered the curved stairwell and the entire walkway tipped. The steps seemed to grow and twist, rising before him like a mountain. He took one step and then another. Every step was becoming difficult. This can’t be happening, he thought. Not now. Not when he had won the woman he loved. Not when he had avenged Emily. But he knew that was exactly why this was happening. He broke his vow never to kill again. He had doubted the Lord above. And he was being punished.