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Assassin
Preoccupied with plotting ways to make Blythe smile more often, Dieter lay on his bed for hours, still fully clothed. He’d tied himself in knots trying to remove the pout from her face during their latest tour of the city—all to no avail.
He sat up abruptly at the faint sound of breaking glass. Something was amiss.
He rose quickly, retrieved his sword from its scabbard atop the oak chest and entered the dark hallway, holding aloft the candle from his bedside. He paused for a few moments, listening. The dogs weren’t barking, so he assumed a servant had broken some fragile object, though why anyone would be about at this time of night…
He decided to descend the two flights of stairs to the lower floor, just to make sure all was well. He heard nothing, except the creak of the wooden stairs as he went.
Once on the ground floor, he stood by the rear door that led on to the garden, curious when the flame flickered from an apparent draft. The yawning dogs emerged from the front entryway, where they usually slept. He patted each one in turn, reassured them all was well and sent them back to the front of the house.
Satisfied nothing was amiss, he turned to put a foot on the bottom stair. A chill raced across his nape when, without warning, the door was flung open. An attacker rushed in and leapt onto his back. Whirling, he dropped the candle, but not before a glint of metal showed his assailant held a dagger. He tried to raise his sword to defend himself, but the intruder’s blade slashed his thigh.
Refusing to yield to the burning pain, he yelled for the dogs, shoving the masked man backwards as hard as he could. The would-be assassin loosened his hold and fled at the sound of Vormund’s frenzied barking.
The growling hovawart flew past Dieter like a blur in pursuit, the other dogs not far behind. Dieter pressed a hand over the wound to stem the flow of blood and limped after them into the dark garden, cursing his carelessness. Roused by the pandemonium, his valet and several other servants swarmed out of the house, most in night attire.
Vormund clamped his jaws on the attacker’s arm before he could make his escape over the high garden wall.
* * *
Blythe had finally fallen asleep after tossing and turning, weary of the uncertainty of her situation, and unsettled by the increasingly strong feelings of yearning her Black Knight evoked. They’d toured the city again during the day, and she’d found it difficult to maintain her sulky demeanor. He was charming and clearly doing his best to make her smile. She couldn’t get the memory of his naked beauty at the lake out of her thoughts. The melody of the song he’d been singing played over and over in her head, though she understood only some of the words.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, awakened by frenzied barking. Angry voices and urgent shouts were coming from the garden. Nervously, she rose and approached the window. The flames of torches danced along the pathways as shadowed figures ran here and there. Soon, they congregated in one corner under the apple tree. Peering to see what was happening, she caught sight of Vormund. The dog had sunk his teeth into the arm of a man trying to scale the high wall of the garden. He cried out in pain as the dog wrestled him to the ground. Several of the servants surrounded him, two of them holding back Löwe, their hands gripping the dog’s studded collar. Then she saw her Black Knight limping towards the group, sword drawn. Fear gripped her heart. Had he been injured? At a word from him, the hovawart let the man go. The servants dragged the intruder from the garden.
Blythe threw a bed robe over her nightgown and hastened downstairs, meeting her captor as he limped in the doorway, Schnell at his side. He looked haggard. His bloodied hand was pressed to his thigh. “Stay in your chamber, Blythe. There may still be intruders at large. Don’t be afraid. They won’t re-enter the house.”
She ought to object to his use of her given name, but her instinct was to gather him in her arms, soothe away the hurt he had suffered. “What has happened? Who was that man?”
He braced himself against the newel of the banister and handed his sword to Bernhardt. He hesitated, considering his words. “It seems I have upset someone. They tried to kill me.”
She clasped her hands to her mouth. “Kill you? Who?” She moved towards him. “You’ve been cut.”
He held up his hand to reassure her. “It’s a flesh wound. Nothing more. I’ve suffered worse.”
The amount of blood seeping into his leggings belied his assertion. Her belly clenched at the thought of this beautiful man being wounded or scarred in any way.
Anna came rushing with linens and bandages and Bernhardt assisted their master to his chamber. Blythe followed up the stairs, unsure as to whether it was appropriate to do so. She longed to help him, to make sure his wound was properly tended, though she had to admit Anna was a more capable healer than she would ever be. At the door of his chamber she hesitated, watching nervously as the valet helped him onto the bed. “Will you be well, Black Knight?”
He raked his hair off his face. “Ja, Blythe. I will be well. Anna will tend me. I know you are worried. They were probably the emperor’s men. The others will be long gone by now, but we have one of them, thanks to Vormund.”
He smiled, but it was a weary smile. “I told you he was a good watchdog. He probably saved my life tonight. Take Schnell with you. You will be safe.”
But will you? she frettedas she hurried to her chamber, the greyhound by her side.
The dog flopped down across the threshold and silence gradually descended once more on the house. The danger had passed, yet she lay awake for hours, her innards in knots. She couldn’t bear to think of what might happen to the prisoner they’d taken. On the other hand, she wanted to personally tear him limb from limb for harming her Black Knight.
