“Don’t kill me, m’lord!” he threw up his hands for protection. “Don’t kill me, please!”
Rhys was a hair away from taking the man’s head off in the literal sense. But he sheathed one of his swords and grabbed the man by his snarled red hair, yanking his head brutally and forcing the man to look at him. His brilliant blue eyes were full of fury.
“Who sent you?” he demanded.
The red-haired man threw his hands up, partially in self-defense, but mostly in surrender. “No… no one sent me, m’lord. Did Rendell send you to kill me?”
Rhys’ brilliant eyes flickered with some confusion that was just as quickly vanished. He yanked the man’s hair again, listening to him whimper. “I will ask the questions and you will give me answers. Who are you and why are you here?”
The man’s hands were shaking. “I came for Raina. This is her chamber.”
For the first time, Rhys’ offensive posturing seemed to relax somewhat. “Who?”
The man made a weak gesture towards the bed. “Raina,” he said. “She sleeps here. I… I thought the lady was her.”
Rhys took his eyes off the man long enough to look at Elizabeau, now picking herself up off the floor. “Did this man harm you in any way, my lady?”
She dusted off her coat where her knees had hit the floor. “Nay,” she said, eyeing the man warily. “He did put his hand over my mouth, however.”
Rhys’ fury was back as he looked down at the man in his grip. The man could read his death in the brilliant blue eyes and he began to blubber like an idiot.
“I thought it was Raina and I didn’t want her to scream,” he wailed. “Her father told me he would kill me if he ever saw me here again so I put my hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t make any noise. Please, sir, ‘tis the truth!”
The fury faded again from Rhys’ eyes; he understood quite a bit in that babbled explanation. But he wasn’t done with him yet. In a flash, he put the razor-sharp edge of his blade against the man’s throat.
“I do not tolerate liars,” he growled. “Know that I protect this lady with ferocity and I will not hesitate to slit your throat for the fact that you have touched her.”
“Rhys,” Elizabeau had moved up beside him, watching as he terrorized the man. “Please let him go. I really do not believe he meant me any harm. He would have had ample opportunity while I slept and, to be honest, the hand on my mouth was not harsh. It only startled me.”
Rhys took his gaze off the man, looking into Elizabeau’s deep green eyes and, for a moment, finding himself lost in the emerald depths. She had the most amazing eyes. When she smiled timidly and put her hand on his wrist as if to pull it away from the man’s throat, he felt himself folding like a complete idiot.
He let go of the man’s hair, watching him fall to his hands and knees. But the sword was still out, still ready to move in a flash if needed.
“Well,” he said, examining the crumpled man with a critical eye. “If you are an assassin, you’re the worst assassin I’ve ever seen. Do you make it a habit of breaking into ladies’ rooms?”
The man rubbed his head where Rhys had grabbed it as he struggled to his feet. “No, m’lord. But Raina and I… well, we are in love. Her father is Rendell, the barkeep. He doesn’t approve of me.” The man shrugged helplessly. “He wants her to marry better; a knight or a merchant, mayhap. Not a smithy.”
Rhys looked at the man a moment longer before sheathing his other sword. The red-haired man was young, dressed in typical peasant garb of sloppy, unbleached wool. He was somewhat dirty, skinny, but seemed strong enough. The longer he looked at him, the more he knew that he wasn’t an assassin. He was just some fool in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“How did you get in here?” Rhys asked him. “I was standing outside the door the entire time.”
The man looked sheepish as he pointed to the rear of the chamber that abutted against the stable. “There is a small door that leads into the stable.” He went over to show him the opening, shielded by the bed and the crude wardrobe. It was well concealed. “I’ve used it many a time. That is why Raina’s father has threatened to kill me. He knows that his daughter and I… well, we have….”
Rhys held up an abrupt hand. “Say no more in front of the lady,” he commanded quietly. “What is your name?”
“Watt, m’lord.”
“Be on your way, Watt,” he gestured to the front door. “Better not to mention this little incident to anyone and I will not tell Raina’s father about the door you have carved into his daughter’s room.”