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Chapter Twelve
Warriors and Gentlemen
It was safe to say that tonight hadn’t gone as planned and, to a degree, I had only myself to blame.
I’d been enjoying myself, teasing Nicolo and exercising control over him. The truth was, I’d enjoyed that control so much, I hadn’t given him a release—even though he’d asked for one more than once. I just couldn’t seem to stop, didn’t want to see the end, not when I cherished being in control of him.
Not only had I denied Nicolo, but I’d also failed to do the job—and this opportunity might be one to never raise its head again.
I had to assume it was because I’d denied Nicolo his own release so many times, but he didn’t look at all happy as he pulled on his jerkin, covering the arresting bulge that stretched out the front of his breeches as he buckled on his sword belt.
“Come on!”
Hurriedly, I tugged on my own clothes, not bothering with the leather vest I wore over my tunic because time was of the essence. I threw on my breeches and leaving my hose, struggled to put thoughts of what might have been (and almost had been) out of my mind. We rushed out to join our comrades, who were already defending themselves against an unseen enemy coming out of the night.
“Report!” barked Nicolo.
“They came out of nowhere, Master,” Whitethorn replied. “Don’t know how many there are, but I know they’ve got bows.”
“Hunker down,” Nicolo ordered. “No sense getting ourselves shot. Make them come and get us.”
Another commander might have ordered his men to attack, but Nicolo was smarter than that, and perhaps cared more about the lives of his men. If Wylder wanted us, then he would have to come and get us. And he definitely wanted us, because if this wasn’t settled now, then we’d just keep coming for him.
There were a few more thuds as arrows impacted into the debris of construction behind which we were hiding, and then a lull as Wylder’s men realized we weren’t coming out.
“They’re considering what to do next,” muttered Nicolo. He seemed to have put the events of a few minutes ago behind him, although I noticed him adjusting the front of his jerkin uncomfortably more than once. The encounter was out of his mind, but other parts of his body were slower to let it go. And I was fairly sure he winced during a few of the times he adjusted himself.
It was then that I remembered learning that a man brought to the brink of release but then denied that release would experience pain in his ‘walnuts’ as I liked to call them. Hmm, I hadn’t meant to cause Nicolo any pain and if such was what he was now experiencing, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be very happy with me.
The sudden danger certainly helped me focus, but I still felt a raw emptiness in my stomach. So close, I’d come so close. I could have not only taken Nicolo out, but I could have done so while still keeping my maidenhead intact. I wasn’t sure why that was even a thought, given the fact that I’d most likely lose it to the next target the Guild saddled me with. Yet, there was a more romantic part of me that hoped I would lose my virginity to a man I loved. Silly, yes, but even a trained assassin had moments of weakness, I supposed.
Suddenly, out of the darkness beyond the flickering campfire we’d built earlier, shadowy figures charged us, swords gleaming in the firelight.
“On my word!” yelled Nicolo.
They might have been trying to lure us out into arrow-range.
As the attackers leapt over the piles of timber and shaped stone, Nicolo gave the word and our party came up fighting, driving the attackers back. I found myself face to face with a hulking individual who looked at me as if he couldn’t believe his luck, probably owing to the fact that in the moonlight, you could clearly see my shape beneath my tunic. His expression soon changed as we crossed blades and he realized I knew what I was doing, and what I lacked in strength, I made up for in speed.
“You’re never going to beat them down,”Mistress Paulette had explained.“So, prick them into submission. A jab here, a jab there. You are a wasp. You hurt them while remaining unhurt yourself. It will infuriate your adversary into careless mistakes.”
She was quite right; the oaf of a man became more and more frustrated as my blade nicked him here and there, while his big swings failed to find me and, all the while, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from my breasts. Hmm, that was an unexpected benefit and one I’d have to consider for my next fight—simply strip in order to throw off the enemy’s attention—at least, if the enemy is a man.
Wylder’s men outnumbered us, but we were in a better position and we boasted the best of the King’s Guard plus Nicolo and myself—we out-skilled them and were soon driving them back.
I saw the grim intent in Nicolo’s eyes. He wanted to drive them all the way back to their master. That was who he wanted; Duke Wylder. His anger at the treacherous noble was written across his face.
“Master Nicolo!” The voice was strong enough to carry over the sounds of the fight and the two sides separated.
“What do you want, Wylder?” replied Nicolo, calling into the darkness that still shrouded the duke. “Surrendering?”
“Hardly the way of a warrior.”
“Nor is hiding behind your men.”
Now I saw Wylder, stalking out of the darkness, sword drawn. He strode forward, his irate expression a match for Nicolo’s.
“I’ll not put my men at risk out of misplaced pride,” he said. “They all feel obligated to protect the old man and I don’t want them to die defending me.”
