Page 71 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)
Morton stepped out of reach and regarded Kit with a new wariness in his eyes.
He had underestimated his opponent and Kit took advantage of Morton’s uncertainty, striking on the pass.
This time his blade seared through Ambrose’s sleeve, drawing blood.
Ambrose hissed and responded with a furious forward attack, forcing Kit back against the table.
Kit parried and riposted, thrusting Ambrose away from him and allowing him to slide out from underneath his opponent’s sword.
Ambrose moved in again, forcing Kit onto his back foot.
Backward and forward they moved across the room, their swords making sparks in the dim light.
Ironically, the fact Kit fought left-handed was to his advantage.
A right-hander faced with a left-handed opponent would take time to get the measure of his opponent and Kit could see the beads of perspiration on Morton’s brow.
They knew each other’s physical weaknesses.
Kit had a bad leg, had been weakened by illness and hampered by having to use his left hand.
Morton had the advantage of height, reach and fitness but the injury to his left ankle, the legacy of his encounter with Jem, obviously troubled him, so Kit did what he could to force Morton onto that foot.
Back and forth they moved across the room.
Sheer determination and a burning desire to kill this man pushed Kit on against an opponent who seemed to be tiring.
Sweat sheened Morton’s forehead and his lips parted as he tried to draw in breath.
Morton drew back before renewing his attack, his mouth set in a line of cruel determination.
He feinted, drawing Kit’s sword out of line and then closed in with a redoublement .
Kit realised he had been trapped and stepped out of reach but, with a wall to his back, he had nowhere to go.
With a flick of his sword, Morton twisted Kit’s sword from his hand, the point of his sword resting neatly at the base of Kit’s throat.
‘You surprise me, Lovell,’ he said. ‘You’re a far better swordsman than I gave you credit for.’
As Kit’s exhausted mind tried to formulate a plan to extricate himself, Morton’s sword wavered and his face contorted in pain.
Kit seized the moment and slipped out from beneath the blade. He scrambled for his sword. As he straightened, prepared to meet Morton again, the other man staggered backward, his sword falling to the floor with a clatter. With a cry, he fell to the floor, doubled over and vomiting.
The youngest girl started to scream again. Lucy stepped forward and stood beside Kit. She looked down into Morton’s pain-wracked eyes.
‘It’s a horrible death,’ she said.
Kit stared at the woman. He had never seen such utter calm before.
‘What have you done?’
Lucy smiled down at Morton. ‘Monkshood. I keep a small supply with me, just waiting for the right occasion. I simply added it to the soup. I don’t advise anyone else to drink it.’
The realisation that Lucy had poisoned him flickered across Morton’s face.
‘Bitch! Why?’ He spat saliva and vomit as he spoke.
‘You don’t deserve to live,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re a monster.
’ She laid a hand on her belly and looked down at where Thamsine still knelt with Annie Morton’s head in her lap.
‘This is his child, but no child deserves a father like Ambrose Morton.’ She looked at Thamsine.
‘Did you think that Lovell was the father? Kit was long gone before this one was conceived. It was fun watching your face though when you thought it was his.’
Kit couldn’t bring himself to look at Thamsine … not yet.
Morton turned desperate eyes to Kit.
‘Kill me,’ he said. ‘Better to die at the end of your sword than this … ’ He doubled up, screaming in agony again.
Lucy placed a hand on Kit’s sword arm.
‘Don’t kill him, Kit. I want to stand here and watch him suffer for every act of depravation, degradation and murder he has committed.’
Kit glanced at Roger.
‘Take the children out of here.’
Roger nodded. Carrying his youngest daughter, and with an arm around the older girl’s shoulders, he left the room.
Kit shook off Lucy’s hand and stepped forward.
He stood for a moment looking down at his adversary.
Whatever his feelings for Ambrose Morton, it gave him no pleasure to watch this man writhing on the floor in vomit and faeces.
He raised his sword and drove it down into Ambrose’s throat.
The blood spurted high into the air. Ambrose gurgled and lay still.
Overcoming rising nausea, Kit crouched down and closed the desperate, agonised eyes.
He looked up at the sound of boots in the hallway and Jem burst into the room, a pistol brandished in each hand.
Jem looked down at Morton’s body and swore. ‘There’ll be none to mourn him, I wager, just that baggage – ’ He waved a pistol in Lucy’s direction.
Kit rose wearily to his feet. ‘I have a job for you, Jem. Take that baggage to the nearest port and see she boards a boat.’
‘Now?’ Jem asked uncertainly.
‘Now! I want her out of this house.’
Lucy smiled. She walked over to Kit and laid a hand on his cheek.
‘Goodbye, Lovell. We had some fun, which I will always remember fondly.’
‘The coin, Lucy,’ Kit said.
Her eyes flashed momentarily but she saw no quarter in Kit’s face. She turned and dropped the coin bags on the table and swept from the room like a queen.
‘Kit?’
At the sound of Thamsine’s voice, Kit turned, at last, to look at her. For a moment a hundred unvoiced questions and answers flowed between them. There would be time for that later. He walked over to her and looked down at the girl.
‘This is his sister?’
Thamsine nodded. ‘There’s no hope, is there?’ she asked.
Kit looked at Annie’s grey face and blood-flecked lips. He watched the shallow rise and fall of her chest and shook his head.
‘It’s only a matter of time. All we can do is make her comfortable.’
He stooped down and picked Annie up. She moaned. ‘It’s all right, Annie,’ he whispered. ‘There will be no more pain soon.’
Thamsine rose to her feet, wiping her blood-stained hands on the black skirt. ‘What about Ambrose?’
Kit gave the body a cursory glance. ‘The living are more important than the dead,’ he replied.