Page 76 of Anice’s Bargain

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Anice hurried down the hall to the soldiers’ sleeping quarters. When she passed the entrance, Piquette at her heels, Drake appeared at her side—so silent she had not detected the rustle of his clothing as he moved. He put a hand to his lips to ensure she remained silent.

Together they rushed toward the side exit of the castle, the one scarcely guarded at night, due to the treacherous terrain limiting its accessibility. It would be easy enough to use, so long as they stayed on the path.

As they made their way to the door, Anice gazed down the hall behind them, under the pretense of looking out for any who might have followed them. In truth, she was looking back at the corridors that had finally become familiar, at the life she had begun to love. She would be leaving James. Forever. After what they had shared that night, after what he had confessed… There would be no recovery of what they had after such deception. On either of their parts.

She looked away lest she change her mind. This was for Werrick, for her sisters. This was to save her family.

And contrary to James’s tender words, he had betrayed her.

Drake held up his hand for her to wait as he eased the door open. He scanned the area and paused. His eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong.

He drew back suddenly, but it was too late.

A shout came from outside. Drake pulled at the door to jerk it closed, but someone grabbed at his gambeson and dragged him out. In a final effort to keep her safe, he left himself vulnerable to an assault, and shoved the heavy door closed.

The hall fell silent for only a moment, then the door was flung open again. Piquette snarled in a savage way she’d only heard a few times in her life, each of them rife with danger. A net shot out, its weights clattering to the ground, locking Piquette beneath. The dog howled in outrage, thrashing uselessly against the tangle of netting.

Anice shrieked her outrage and attacked. She grabbed the dagger sheathed at her side, and launched herself at the men surrounding her, kicking, punching, slicing. Any impacting harm she could exact, she did—all in an effort to save her sweet, innocent Piquette. Someone caught her around the waist and tugged her outside into the moonlit night. Cold air washed over her hot face and filled her lungs.

Her wrist was twisted, gently but firmly, and the strength bled away from her hand. The dagger dropped harmlessly to the ground. Not that it mattered. She didn’t need any weapons to escape this ambush. A solid kick to the man in front of her caught him under the chin and knocked his head sharply to the side. He staggered back, revealing a disarmed Drake fighting with the same determination.

Someone grabbed Anice from behind. She squatted down, forcing her weight to the ground, then kicked her heel upward into the man’s groin. He gave a choking sound and pitched forward. Anice did not wait for another to attack before she moved on to her next opponent.

She drew her arm back and smashed the meaty part of her forearm into the next man’s face. His nose crunched beneath the savage blow. She turned to the next one, crouched, and swept his feet from underneath him. Once he was on the ground, Anice fell on top of him to lock him in place. She could break his neck.

A glint of silver caught her eye. Her blade.

She grabbed the dagger from the cold, wet grass and drew it up.

“Anice, stop.” The voice was softly spoken, dejected. Familiar.

Her hands dropped, and so too did her heart. A figure stood over her, blotting out the moon, but she did not lift her face to see who it was. There was only one man who was large enough to block out the moon.

James.

She could not bring herself to look up at him, to witness the pain of her deception. Only an hour ago, he had held her with such gentle affection, understanding her in a way no one else ever had. He had been about to tell her he loved her.

She was grabbed and hauled to her feet. Still she did not look up. She did, however, glance to the side, in time to see Drake roughly manacled and poor Piquette struggling against the net just inside the open door.

That forced her to lift her head and face her husband. His body was tense, arms folded over his chest, massive and impenetrable. His eyes though, his eyes glittered in the moonlight with every emotion he could not mask. Disappointment. Hurt. “Ye betrayed me,” he spoke so quietly, his words were nearly lost in the wind.

She glared up at him, trying to force anger to burn away the awful grip of guilt wringing her heart. “You betrayed me first.”

“Take them to the dungeon.” James turned his back to her. “Leave the dog.”

Not Piquette. Anice jerked free of her captor and spun around to plant a punch to his jaw. Strong arms captured her and held her fast in a grip. It wasn’t the hold that stopped her from fighting. She’d gotten out of worse.

It was the scent.

That scent of cedar, masculinity, intimate moments, a man she once thought she loved. It disabled her senses and left her sagging against the hard body she knew better than her own.

“If I were to hurt anyone this night, it wouldna be him,” James growled in her ear. “Get the manacles on her and take her to the dungeon.” He released her and several men caught her.

The clank of the heavy metal sounded as the cold weight of the iron bonds were clapped over her wrists behind her back. As the reivers did this, James knelt to Piquette and gently stroked the dog’s head. The low murmur of his voice carried toward her, indiscernible, but obviously meant to be soothing.