“Christin?” Susanna said with great concern, pulling the woman off of the decapitated body. “Are you injured? Where did she hurt you?”
Christin shook her head. Her manner was as cool and hard as a rock, as if she’d not just been in a fight for life and death.
“I am not hurt,” she said. “This is her blood. She attacked me and I was forced to kill her.”
Susanna breathed a sigh of relief, looking over at the woman’s body on the ground. “Thank God you are not hurt,” she said. “But that woman…”
At that moment, Alexander rushed into the chamber, sword in hand. He, too, was ready for a battle. One look at the decapitated corpse on the floor and his shocked gaze moved to Christin and Susanna.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Christin’s gaze lingered on the bloody mess. “Prescombe leaving the hall was a ruse,” she said. “He did it to lure all of you out so his companion could look for information on John’s invasion.”
Alexander sheathed his sword, bending over the body and visually examining it for a moment before he began to pat down her skirts, looking for anything she might have on her possession.
“We figured that out,” he said. “Prescombe is in custody and The Marshal wants to interrogate him. He wanted to interrogate his companion, as well, but that is clearly not going to happen.”
Christin watched Alexander frisk the woman’s undergarments, looking for secret pockets or anything else that might be hidden. He was silent and efficient, doing what needed to be done.
Calm, cool, and collected.
Christin didn’t know Alexander de Sherrington personally. The first time they’d met had been tonight, with brief introductions. She knew him by reputation, of course. She’d heard her father talking about the man everyone called Sherry. Her father had said that he was an enigma, a man until himself, and one of the most elite warriors in all of England. According to Christopher, they didn’t come any greater or any smarter than Alexander de Sherrington.
In truth, she’d been intimidated by him the moment she met him.
He was very big, and very tall, and quite handsome. He had close-cropped black hair, and dark eyes, and a trim, dark beard that embraced his square jaw. When he smiled, which she’d seen tonight, he had big white teeth in great contrast to that dark beard. His smile was infectious and his laugh booming, but it was all a deception. According to her father, he was one of the more deadly men in The Marshal’s arsenal.
An assassin beyond compare.
Now, that handsome assassin was focused on the body in front of him and as he rolled the dead woman onto her stomach, Christin broke away from Susanna and went to find the dagger she’d tossed across the chamber. More men were entering the solar now; Bric, the big Irishman, and Cullen, a tall and handsome knight she had seen at Norwich Castle before. He was a friend of her brother, Peter’s. Both Bric and Cullen were standing over Alexander as he thoroughly searched the body. Bric looked over at the women.
“What happened?” he asked.
Susanna looked at Christin as she rejoined them, her dagger in her hand. “Susanna and I caught her in here, reading the map we’d left out as a decoy,” Christin said. Then, she pointed over to the charred map in the hearth. “She burned that map on purpose, thinking it was the plan’s for John’s invasion. When I caught her, she told me that she could not let me leave the room alive.”
“And she attacked you?” Bric asked.
Christin nodded. “I had no choice but to defend myself.”
At that point, Alexander stood up, pointing at the detached head. “Who did that? You?”
“I did,” Susanna said. “Christin came in through the servant’s alcove and surprised the woman. I was waiting at the entry doors for Christin to flush her out, but the woman attacked Christin instead. By the time I entered, they were on the floor struggling, or at least I thought they were. Christin had blood on her and I assumed she was injured, so I disabled her adversary.”
Alexander took a few steps towards Christin, looking at the blood on her hands and the splatter on her bodice. Those dark eyes were piercing. “You’re going to have to change your clothing,” he said. “You cannot return to the hall like that.”
Christin glanced down at herself. “I know,” she said, looking up to Alexander, who was quite a bit taller than she was. “Before she attacked me, she said something strange. She told me that I did not know that the danger, for England, was already here. She said it was right under my nose.”
Alexander’s dark-eyed gaze lingered on her. “She could have just said that to throw you off,” he said. “But it’s equally possible she meant it.”
“You may want to ask her companion about it.”
Alexander nodded. “I will, indeed,” he said, looking at the body on the floor. “It is a pity she had to attack you. She might have told us what she meant had she not been so foolish as to advance against a woman unafraid to use a dagger.”
He was voicing a regret and nothing more, but Susanna stepped up to defend her.
“Christin fought bravely,” she said. “She kept her head in a difficult situation. She did what she had to do.”
Alexander looked at Susanna, whom he knew well. He’d been on many an adventure with the lady warrior. “I know,” he said. “She confronted the spy we were all looking for and is to be commended for her actions. I did not mean to intimate otherwise. But she must return to the hall as if nothing has happened and she cannot go covered in blood. I doubt her father would appreciate that.”
“Sherry.” Peter was suddenly in the doorway, looking at the carnage with some shock. “The Marshal is looking for you. Is that the other spy?”
He was pointing to the body and Alexander nodded. “Aye,” he said, glancing at Christin. “She made the deadly mistake of attacking a de Lohr.”
There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said it and even Susanna flashed a grin, looking to her young friend. Christin may have looked like an angel, but she was a de Lohr to the bone. But Peter took one look at his sister, covered with gore, and nearly came apart.
“Cissy,” he gasped, coming into the chamber. “What in the hell happened? Are you injured?”
Christin could see that Peter needed reassurance and she went to him, taking him by the arm. “Not to worry, dear brother,” she said soothingly. “’Tis just a little bit of blood. It will wash right off.”
But Peter wasn’t convinced. “Are you hurt?”
“I am not hurt. It is her blood, not mine.”
Peter sighed heavily. “Christ, you gave me a scare,” he said. “We must get you cleaned up before Papa sees you. He is already wondering what has become of you.”
Christin let go of him and quickly gathered her skirts. “Then I had better clean up in a hurry,” she said. “It would not do for Papa to see me covered in blood. I might have some explaining to do, which I do not wish to do at this time.”
She bolted from the chamber with Peter right behind her. Once she was gone, Alexander shook his head as he returned his focus to the body. “I suppose I should not have expected less from a de Lohr,” he said. “I had heard tale Lady Christin was fearless. I suppose the proof is at my feet.”