Chapter 34 #2
Francis spluttered out the start of an argument, but Olly was already on him, pinning his arm behind his back and shoving him out of the room.
‘You cannot—’
‘I can, in fact,’ Olly said, twisting a little harder. ‘Come, now, let’s not have any problems.’
‘Agnes, please—’ Muriel started, as Olly manhandled Francis past him and through the door. ‘You cannot allow this.’
‘I can and I do,’ Agnes spat back, pushing Ash aside as she bore down on her sister. ‘I want him out of my sight. You should never have brought him here.’
‘But—’
‘If you are so keen to have him by your side, please feel free to join him in leaving my home.’
Muriel fell silent. Her parents watched on with wide eyes.
‘Go on! Go!’
The moment snapped. Agnes’s family left the room without any further argument, the door shutting behind them with a deadly finality. The tension fell from Ash’s shoulders as if a rope keeping them upright had frayed and fallen.
‘Ash …’
Agnes turned to him. She looked flushed. Triumphant.
She kissed him. Ash had the briefest moment to breathe – a small, stifled gasp – before he deepened the kiss, his hands finding their way to Agnes’s hips.
He thought, for just a second, of Olly’s attempts at tutelage so long ago.
Of their shared awkwardness. He gripped Agnes’s hips tighter, stroking one hand up her side, as her lips moved over his with gentle ease.
When they had kissed before – once to wed, once to pull her from Francis’s grip, and many times as they twisted together with Olly – it had felt different, somehow.
One had been law, one had been play, and the rest …
the rest had been desire, pure and easy.
This was different. Her lips played against his, gently opening his mouth, seeking entrance. Her tongue slid against his own, hot and warm, and he could feel everything, every nerve in his body alight, every beat of his heart in tune with hers.
When she pulled back, he chased her, lips desperate for more. She left him with another, lighter kiss and a smile.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Ash could still feel the tingle of Agnes’s lips on his, the warmth of her hands where she’d gripped his arms.
‘Oh—’ Ash said stupidly. ‘I … that—’
Agnes smiled at him, still clinging to his arms. ‘I quite agree.’
Nothing else existed. Ash ducked his head low, intending to kiss Agnes once more, when suddenly the door slammed open with such force that they leapt apart.
‘What—’
‘It is Olly.’ Raff stood in the open door, panting heavily. ‘It’s Olly, he’s been hurt. You must come, now!’
Ash burst into the courtyard in a run, ears ringing, vision already blurring. He barely registered the figures standing around, the huddle of men to one side, the shouting, the shouting—
There was someone lying on the ground.
He was beside him in a moment. His knees screamed in agony, but he ignored the pain, ignored the sharp dig of stones into his skin.
‘Olly— Oliver, Oliver—’
There was someone next to him, pressed against him, hot grips around his wrists.
‘Ash, breathe.’
That was Agnes.
‘Breathe. You need to breathe.’
He tried to do as she said. Olly, lying on the ground in front of him, swam in and out of his vision.
‘He is all right. Ash—’
He could still hear shouting. Shouting, and crashing from far away – like waves, or wind, or clashing steel.
‘Ash.’
There was a firm, familiar hand gripping his own. He focused, as much as he could.
‘There you are.’ Olly smiled up at him.
‘You … you were hurt, Raff said—’
‘Just a scratch. Really, I’m—’ Olly winced. The panic gripped Ash again in the face of Olly’s lie, swirling in him, pulling him back down.
Something was tugging their hands apart. No; not apart. Loosening the grip. Agnes’s calloused hands sliding between his and Olly’s, becoming part of them.
‘You are hurting him.’ She whispered it, leaning against his side, lips near his ear. ‘There. There—’
As she eased them apart, Ash realised his hands were shaking. He looked down: his knuckles were white. Olly’s fingers were pink where he’d gripped them so hard.
Tears sprung into his eyes.
‘I … I …’
‘It’s all right.’ Slowly, the world started to come back. Olly, still on his back, grinned up at him. ‘I really am unharmed.’
Agnes rolled her eyes at him. ‘There is blood on your tunic.’
‘Only a little.’
Ash finally dared to look down. They were both correct: the bloodstain across the pale fabric was minimal. Agnes tugged away the tunic and undershirt – both sliced neatly through. There was a gash of about a hand’s-width across his side, long but shallow.
‘See?’ Olly said. ‘Nothing. I have had far worse.’
Ash let out a breath of relief. It came out half-choked, his throat tightening around it.
‘What happened?’ he managed.
Olly attempted to sit. Ash quickly helped, supporting him as he heaved himself up onto his elbows.
‘The bastard tried to stab me.’
He gestured with his head. For the first time since rushing outside, Ash looked over towards the huddle of men. Penn and a pair of guards were holding Francis between them, keeping him still. His face was scarlet, nose bloodied.
Penn was sporting a fresh black eye, looking tremendously pleased with himself.
On the ground was a bloodstained knife.
Ash was on his feet in an instant.
‘You come into my home. You insult my wife and wound my man. This is to say nothing of all you have done before you even stepped foot within my keep.’
Francis’s eyes went wide. ‘I do not understand what you are talking about.’
‘Yes,’ Ash spat, ‘you do. And be grateful that I do not intend to involve the law in this. You leave, now, or I will be forced to repay your behaviour in kind. All of it. Do I make myself clear?’
Francis flushed even redder. He scowled, the expression contorting his face. He said nothing.
‘Then we have an agreement,’ Ash said. ‘Leave. Now.’
He turned on his heel.
‘They were all right, you know! Your uncle and the rest! At least you are suited for each other: the madman and the degen—’
Ash swung with such force and speed that no one had time to prepare themselves before his fist connected soundly with Francis’s jaw. The guards holding him jumped back in shock as he crumpled to the ground.
Francis spat red onto the dirt, immediately struggling back to his feet. But before Ash could act, Agnes was upon him. A well-placed kick knocked his arm from under him, toppling him back down.
Agnes’s family, watching from aside, gasped. Her mother cried out. Agnes swung on them, too, leaving Francis on the ground, cradling his arm.
‘If you find yourselves in agreement with him, you may leave as well. I understand you do not approve of mine and Ash’s union, but I chose him.
He cares for me. He treats me kindly. If you agree with Francis’s words about him – his words about me’ – Agnes made a hiccupping noise, the words stuttering in her throat – ‘then you may leave, and think of me no more.’
‘Agnes—’
‘I am asking—’ Agnes took a deep breath. Ash rushed to her side. ‘I am telling you, for the last time. You must choose. Him or me.’
‘But—’
Agnes’s shoulders slumped. Ash couldn’t tell if her family noticed – if they saw the way her expression shifted, a minute change to the tilt of her eyebrows, the hard line of her lips. He took her hand.
‘Agnes …’
She turned to look at him.
‘Let us go inside.’
He led her towards Olly, who was now rising to his feet, his hand clamped to his side. Agnes seemed to steel herself, giving Ash’s hand a tight squeeze before releasing him and heading towards Olly to help.
Ash realised belatedly that Francis was still standing in his courtyard.
‘I demanded you leave. Why are you still here?’
‘You cannot expect me to go now. It will soon be sunset—’
‘Skeldale is not that far away. Stay in the inn.’
‘And travel in the dark? On these roads? What about bandits?’
Ash sighed, then bent down to pick up Francis’s dagger. It was stained with Olly’s blood. He took a breath and handed it to him. ‘Then you will be needing this.’
‘But—’
‘Enough.’ He gestured to a pair of guards.
‘See to it that he gathers his things. Escort him to Skeldale, if he is so concerned about travelling alone. Raff.’ Raff stood straighter, looking – Ash thought – proud.
‘Please see to Agnes’s family as they decide how they wish to proceed.
We shall take Oll— Oliver inside and assess if we need to send for the physician. ’
Raff nodded. Ash turned his back on them all and followed Olly and Agnes into the keep.
They bundled Olly into the side room. Each step Ash took shifted beneath his feet. But Olly was beside him, standing and walking and talking – talking so much. He would be all right.
They propped him on a chair, then began to remove Olly’s clothes to better assess the wound.
‘See?’ Olly said, leaning back as Ash removed his undershirt to reveal the neat, thin cut. ‘It is fine.’
He was right – it wasn’t so bad – but it would still need to be cleaned and bandaged.
Ash took the remains of Olly’s undershirt and started wiping away blood. Agnes positioned herself at Olly’s other side, watching closely.
‘Is that really necessary?’ Olly asked, wincing.
‘Yes.’
‘It isn’t so bad,’ Olly began. ‘You—’
‘Shut your mouth.’
Agnes and Ash had spoken in unison. She looked across at him with a small smile.
‘Is he always this stubborn?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ That was Ash and Olly’s turn to speak together.
Agnes chuckled, guiding Olly to lean back again. Her fingers lingered on Olly’s chest, lightly grazing his bare skin.
‘There.’
Ash watched them both, finally able to breathe again. Olly turned to look at him, expression concerned.
‘Ash?’
Ash could do nothing more than lean forwards and kiss him. It was brief, but he hoped it told Olly what he needed to know: the fear and the relief.
When he leaned back, Agnes was peering at them.
She, too, looked relieved; but her eyes were shimmering with something beyond that as well.
Ash thought of the moment they had shared before they were interrupted, of the way she had looked at him, the lurch in his heart that had threaded down to his stomach, down to his toes.
He glanced again at Olly, who seemed to know what he was about to do, then took Agnes’s jaw and tilted her forwards. Their lips met for only a moment. When he released her, she sighed against his lips.
‘So is that how it is?’
They both turned to face Olly. He was looking between them with a curious expression.
‘Olly—’
Olly ignored him, reached out, placed a hand to Agnes’s nape and pulled her into another kiss. It was a little fiercer than the one Ash had shared with her, a little deeper, a little more daring, much like everything Olly did. When he let her go, her face was wholly pink.
‘I think we have much to discuss,’ Agnes said, once her breathing had levelled.
Olly looked between them. His smile spread from ear to ear.
‘I suppose we do,’ he said. He reached out so he could take both of their hands at once. ‘I—’
‘Ash!’
‘God’s pendulous bollocks—’ Ash stood, stomped across the room, and flung the door open. ‘What is it?’
Penn stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed.
‘You are needed,’ he said. ‘Or, I suppose, Agnes is needed. Your family is unhappy.’
Agnes joined Ash in the doorway. ‘Are they displeased about Francis?’
‘That is one way to describe it.’
She sighed. ‘Fine. Fine. We need to sort this mess out. Better to do it now. Ash?’
Ash nodded. ‘I agree. Come—’
‘Wait!’ Olly was tugging his tunic back over his head. ‘Wait for me—’
‘Olly, you need to rest. You were hurt!’
‘Only a little …’ Olly was on his feet now, throwing his tunic over the undershirt. ‘You cannot propose I miss this?’
Ash relented. ‘Penn, just … make sure he does not injure himself further.’
Penn grinned. ‘Of course.’
He headed inside, looping an arm around Olly’s middle to keep him upright.
‘You know,’ Olly muttered, as they left the room, ‘he did not wound my leg. I can walk perfectly well.’
‘If you faint and crack your head open, Ash will have me flayed.’
‘He is correct, you know,’ Ash called over his shoulder.
‘Fine, fine.’ Olly huffed. ‘That was an exquisite punch, by the way.’
Ash grinned as Penn laughed.
‘I know.’