The brisk morning air on his skin brought droplets of water, and Nickolas was grateful for the coat Seamus had given him. It covered the multitude of weapons he was carrying.
The physician had insisted they wait another day before any kind of traveling, and worried as she was, Cassandra had thought if for the best, too. Walking was still a chore, but he had been injured much, much worse before, and this wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Reaching out, he moved Cassandra's hair aside and squeezed her shoulder. She turned to look at him, and he could read the fear and worry in her expression. Tears welled in her eyes when she looked at him, and she buried her face in his shoulder, leaning into him for reassurance.
If he allowed himself to admit it, he was worried, too. Worried they wouldn't get there in time. All this time, he'd thought he was far ahead of Granger, dancing just out of reach. He'd thought he was the goal, but his running had merely been something to keep him occupied.
The real target had been to get Cassandra separated from her sister without a word of warning, leaving her father no choice but to come up here in search of her. It had worked. Nickolas had unwittingly assisted Granger one last time, and it infuriated him.
However, they were making surprisingly good time, and sitting here in a rickety wagon, driven by a one-legged man, who looked like the best of his years were far behind him, they looked like nothing more than common ilk. No one would trouble them on the road. There was still hope, and Nickolas intended to do everything in his power to stop Granger, no matter the cost.
"Will you tell me what happened now?" Cassandra's voice was small.
She needed a distraction desperately. At this rate, their journey would be torture for her, and this was the least he could do to pass the time.
"I got ambushed on the way." He said, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. "Ridiculously enough, I was anticipating it. I knew they weren't going to attack when we were in town, surrounded by people, so I was waiting for them. I got lost in my thoughts, though." He paused for a moment. "That's the first time that's happened to me in years."
"What were you thinking about?" She sniffed.
"What do you think?" She looked up at him. "Breakfast." He grinned.
"Is that so?" She raised a brow.
"Anyway," he turned his gaze to the horizon, licking his lips to try to hide the sheepish grin he felt tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have never been so useless in a fight. They had the upper hand from the start, and then Fulsmith swooped in to finish it off." She hugged him closer. "I thought I was going to die there. Bleeding out on the ground, I looked up into his face and knew my end had come. I was cut to ribbons, and he had only to deliver the final blow."
Cassandra found his hand and held it gently in her own. "And what about this?" She stroked a finger over the layer of bandages on his wrist. The bone was fractured. "The physician said you were lucky. Whatever caused the injury nearly could have crippled your hand." She fiddled with his fingers. "That would have been a shame. I'm rather fond of these." She laced her fingers through his.
"Well, you know me." He shrugged. "I wasn't just going to give up. I started reaching for one of the weapons I'd dropped earlier in the fight, and Fulsmith stomped on my arm to stop me." Her grip on the hand tightened as though she were imagining the pain he must have felt at the blow.
"Then?" Her voice was so small.
"He was poised to end it all, but the blow never came. They swooped in, silent as ghosts, and I think they might have killed him with their bare hands, Cassie. There were rocks involved somewhere, but those women killed him before he had a chance to fight back."
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Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2
Historical Fiction**SEQUEL TO HER SISTER'S FIANCÉ** ***This story has been officially copyrighted, so steal at your own risk!*** London of the mid 19th century: a city of feigned propriety, snobbery, and tempestuous attempts at the upkeep of the law. Beneath the vene...