Legends of Medieval Romance: The Complete Angel's Assassin Trilogy

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Who is he?” Aurora asked.

  For a moment, Damien considered not telling her. He didn't want her to know. He wanted to protect her. But Damien knew she would find out. “My father.”

  Chapter Two

  Aurora paced the antechamber, her brow furrowed. She watched the floor with each step. “How could you lock him in the dungeon?”

  Damien sat in a chair as if he were being interrogated. “For our safety.”

  “Safety?” she echoed in disbelief. “What sort of danger could he possibly represent?” She dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his smooth face into her hands. “Damien. Not everyone is here to hurt us.”

  Damien shook his head and leaned back in the chair, pulling himself from her hold. She closed her hands and sat back on her heels. “You don’t understand. The only thing he ever wanted from me was to sell me for a bag of gold.”

  “I know,” she whispered. She remembered his story about the bag of gold his father had sold him and his brother to slavers for. Her heart twisted. “But what if he is here to make amends?”

  Damien's dark eyes, so dark you could not see the pupil from the iris, hardened with reined anger. “It’s always about the good for you, isn’t it? People don’t change.”

  She felt the barb. He is angry, she told herself. He is not angry with me. Or maybe he is. “You did,” she answered quietly.

  Damien growled. “No. I’m still the same man I was before.”

  Aurora crossed her arms and said nothing. She had to let him come to the conclusion that he had changed. He had only wanted his freedom before. Not marriage. Not to save her. He had risked it all, even his life, to face his former slave master and save her from his twisted plans.

  Damien ran a hand through his black hair. “That’s not fair. I had you to help me.”

  “Can’t I help him, too?”

  He grit his teeth. “Even if I said yes, which I’m not, he’s here. Why did he come? What does he want?”

  “We can ask him together,” Aurora offered.

  “No.” Damien shook his head. “No. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

  She stood. “But he’s family. He’s your father.”

  “He hasn’t been my father since the day he sold me.”

  The door suddenly burst open and Aurora jumped.

  Damien was out of the chair, grabbing her arm to pull her behind him, his sword out instantly.

  Gawyn ran into the room, ignoring Damien's sword. “Is it true?” he demanded.

  Through the open doorway, Aurora saw Rupert standing in the hallway behind Gawyn. Rupert slowly shut the door.

  “Damn it, Gawyn,” Damien said, his jaw tight.

  Through his black tunic, Aurora saw his chorded and tight shoulder muscles. She realized how anxious he was. He hadn’t been this coiled with tension since… Since he had faced his old master Roke. She rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to ease his anxiety.

  “Yes,” Damien said, sliding his sword into its sheath. “It’s father.”

  Gawyn was the only family Damien had ever really had. His brother had helped her save Damien from the flames at Roke’s castle. He was a trusted friend of both of theirs.

  “Have you spoken to him?" Gawyn demanded.

  “Long enough to send him to the dungeon.”

  Gawyn nodded in agreement. “And it’s where he should stay.”

  “Don’t you even want to know why he’s here?” Aurora asked.

  “No,” Gawyn said emphatically.

  Damien nodded. “I agree. I will not give him time to tell any more lies.”

  “But he’s your father,” she said softly. “Perhaps he regrets his actions. Perhaps –”

  “Perhaps he heard Damien was marrying the rich lady of Acquitaine and he wants more than a bag of gold,” Gawyn suggested.

  Damien nodded in accord.

  Aurora looked from the man she loved to his brother. They were so alike. Gawyn had brown hair where Damien's was dark as midnight, but they had the same eyes, the same cynical twist to their lips. She could not fathom the bitterness and distrust they held for their father. She had loved her father so much. And now that he was gone and Damien's father was here, she wished she could get to know him. He could never take her father's place, but she would like her children to have a grandfather.

  Damien sighed softly and took her hand, yanking her to him. “You must trust me on this matter. Tobias was never a father to Gawyn and I. You can’t change that. No one can.”

  “But perhaps –”

  “Aurora.” Damien’s voice was firm and she looked up into his black eyes. “I will take care of it.”

  She dropped her gaze.

  Gawyn chuckled behind them. “You already sound like lord of the castle. Who would have thought?”

  Still, Aurora didn’t like leaving an old man in the dungeon, let alone family. Because no matter what Damien said, his blood ran through his father’s veins. He couldn’t be all bad.

  Damien hooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted it until she met his gaze. All thoughts of family vanished at the look he was giving her. An concentrated look, full of desire and longing. And still very much forbidden until they were wed. She grinned. She loved him more than anything. And every time he gave her that look, that heated, knowing, scorching gaze, her insides melted and she wanted him inside of her.

  She ran her hand along his arm. She could feel the curves of his hard muscles beneath his tunic. She lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his warm ones, slanting them across his. Desire flared to life inside her, as it always did now that she was his. His hand moved up her back to the nape of her neck to pull her closer and the kiss deepened.

  Gawyn groaned. “Can’t you two at least wait until I am out of the room?”

  Aurora broke away from Damien to glance over her shoulder at Gawyn. “Gawyn!” she called.

  He paused in the open doorway.

  “Have you sent someone for the Bishop?”

  “Of course. Two days ago.” The easy smile he always wore slid across his lips. “Don’t worry, m’lady. Your wedding will go as planned.” He stepped out of the room and closed the door.

  Damien kissed her neck. “Are you getting nervous?”

  She smiled as he pressed kisses to her lips, then she tilted her head back so he could kiss her neck. “There’s still so much to do.”

  “Delegate. Get Helen or Jennifer to help you.” He peppered soft kisses down the line of her neck and up to her ear.

  Aurora turned to him, offering her lips. “They have so much to do. The guests will be arriving any day and…” Damien took control of her lips, stealing the words and thoughts from her. His hand swept over her breast and he backed her into the wall. Her body tingled in anticipation. He swept her arms over her head, kissing her until the world spun about her, until every coherent thought swirled away, giving way to feeling and passion. He captured her hands with one of his above his head.

  “This is highly inappropriate behavior for the lady of the castle,” he whispered.

  “Highly,” she repeated as his hand dipped down to her hip and gripped the fabric of her dress. His knee parted her legs, and he pressed himself up against her core. She could feel how much he desired her as he pushed his hardness against her stomach.

  He bunched the fabric in his hand, pulling it up. She lifted her leg to wrap it around his buttocks. His fingers dipped beneath her naked bottom to pull her up against him. He ground himself into her, a growl ripping from deep in his throat. He barely separated from her to undo his breeches. He shoved her dress away from between her legs and lifted her bottom until her foot was off the floor. She wrapped her legs around him and he entered her in one lunge, filling her.

  Aurora gasped, her hands resting on his shoulders.

  He supported her from beneath her bottom, keeping her core snug against him as he pushed into her and then pulled out, only to thrust in again.

  She reached for him as she always did,
holding onto him as though he would suddenly disappear. She met his thrusts with her own. Her mouth parted with growing need, the growing…

  He covered her open lips with his own, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, sweeping it deep inside her.

  Again and again and again he thrust into her until she peaked and shattered, her body shuddering, her fingers clutching his shoulders. The world whirled, twisting in a love induced fog.

  When she had finished, gasping for air, he continued rocking inside her. And then he pushed into her, burying his face in her shoulder, his own body stiffening. He held her as his seed splashed into her. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder for a moment as he caught his breath. Then he whispered, “Highly inappropriate.”

  She chuckled in a throaty lusty voice and he pulled back to gaze at her. She stared at him through lidded eyes. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He kissed her lips and pulled out of her, easing her feet to the floor before tying his breeches. Her dress fell into place as if she had commanded it.

  He rarely said it to her, but he didn’t have to. When he looked at her again, his eyes were full of warmth and appreciation and loyalty. It was a look he never gave anyone else. He cupped her cheek and kissed her again with tender devotion. It was all the promise she needed. She dipped her head and looked up at him through lowered lashes.

  His gaze swept her, assessing, making sure she was presentable in every aspect for her people. He took her hand and pressed it into the crock of his arm and led her toward the door. He opened the door and guided her out before following.

  She could barely take her gaze off of him. He had started out by saving her life only a month ago. Then he had become her bodyguard. Now, he was the cherished protector of her heart. And soon to be her husband.

  Rupert stood guard outside the room. He straightened when he saw them exit.

  Damien nodded to him.

  They had no sooner turned the corner when Jennifer ran down the hallway in a rushed hurry, but ended up walking very quickly. Her eyes were full of excitement. “The first guests have arrived,” she whispered in enthusiasm.

  Aurora smiled at her cousin. “The rooms are prepared, are they not?”

  “They are!” Jennifer squealed, then covered her mouth. She patted a strand of brown hair back beneath the veil she wore on her head. “My lady, it is the Count and Countess Dumas.” She jumped up and down, holding Aurora’s hands and the strand came loose again. “A Count and a Countess!”

  Aurora smiled at Jennifer’s excitement. She had already known high-ranking visitors were invited to the wedding ceremony and would be coming to Acquitaine.

  “Who?” Damien asked.

  Jennifer looked at him.

  “The Count and Countess Dumas!”

  Aurora glanced at Damien. His jaw tightened and his brow furrowed as he glanced over Jennifer's shoulder down the hallway. She opened her mouth to ask him if everything was all right, but he suddenly leaned over to talk to Rupert in a quiet voice.

  Jennifer began pulling Aurora down the hallway. “We’ll need to put on a more fitting dress to greet a Count.”

  Dumas. Damien remembered the name. Back at Castle Roke, he had been instructed to accommodate the Count and Countess any way he could. No wonder they practically ran here upon hearing of his betrothal. Damien had not wanted a huge wedding; he had wanted to take Aurora to a small chapel and have a small wedding. But Aurora was a lady, the head of Acquitaine now with the death of her father. She wanted, nay, needed to put on a lavish wedding for her people and for all the others who would scoff at their union.

  Let them scoff. Let them wonder if she was with child. Let them all guess at why she would marry below her station. He didn’t give a damn. But he knew her well enough to know she wanted to celebrate her happiness with her people; more than anything, this feast was for them.

  But with Count Dumas and his wife arriving, all of Damien’s fears came rushing forward. His past. It would haunt him forever. What if someone recognized him? He knew the Count and Countess only knew him as working for Roke; they had not known he was an assassin. Their threat would come in emotional turmoil. He wanted to head any misconceived assumptions off before they blew up in his face.

  He knew where Aurora was having the guests stay, in the west wing of the castle. And the Count and Countess would, no doubt, have one of the largest rooms. Plenty of space for the luxury that accompanied them, all the servants, all the playthings. Damien grimaced. His large steps took him through the busy stone hallways. Acquitaine was a place of contentment. Aurora treated her people well. She protected them with trained knights and the lands prospered because the people were shown great respect by their lady.

  Servants passed him, genuflecting and bowing slightly in reverence. It was a different life than the one he had been accustomed to at Castle Roke. Aurora had granted him a title, knighting him in a very private ceremony between just her and him. Damien grinned at the memory. She had been completely naked. Only after she had seduced him into agreeing to be knighted, something he had never wanted, did she reward him with a night of lovemaking. He would do it again, he vowed. That night had been glorious. The next day, the bans had gone out and Damien realized it had all been a plan on her part. Even though the title meant nothing to either of them, it did to her people. It would lend legitimacy to their marriage. Sir Damien weds Lady Aurora. They would always be Aurora and Damien to him.

  He hurried through the hallways and up a set of stairs.

  There was a commotion at the end of the corridor. He recognized Gunther, the stewart of Castle Acquitaine, a small elderly man, thin in stature, but elegant and commanding, standing in the doorway of the room.

  As Damien approached, he heard the countess commanding in a severe voice, “Not there, you idiot! Over there. The mirror must face the bed!”

  And he remembered. He remembered how her orders had to be followed without question. She was harsh and condescending to her servants, to all those below her.

  Damien grit his teeth. He placed a hand on Gunther’s shoulder and stepped past him, taking a deep breath for the coming confrontation.

  Countess Margaret Dumas was a statuesque woman. She stood in the middle of the room, hovering over one male servant struggling to move a large mirror etched with metallic scrollwork on the top and sides. “If you break that mirror, I will take it out of your hide.” She wore a blue dress over her thin frame that dipped low between her breasts. Her dark hair was pulled up and a white feather flopped on the top of her head. Her lips were tight with anger.

  The servant picked the mirror up and began to move it. It wobbled in his hands and teetered precariously.

  Damien rushed in and grabbed the mirror just before it tipped too far forward. He helped the poor man guide it to the wall, facing the bed, and eased it to the floor.

  “How dare you interfere --!” Margaret started until Damien straightened and she saw his face. She gasped and her entire countenance changed. She became a siren, a seductress. She jutted her breasts out in a gasp and smoothed her dress over her stomach. “Damien. I just knew it was you.”

  “Welcome Countess Dumas,” Damien greeted.

  “Yes. Yes,” the count hurried forward from the window where he had been gazing with boredom. He was at least twenty years the countess’s elder. His balding head was smattered with gray. He was half a head shorter than her. “Very nice to see you again.” His dark eyes glinted with keen excitement.

  “Welcome Count,” Damien said.

  “Out!” the countess commanded. “All of you.”

  The servants hurried to the door, grateful to escape her abusive commands. She barely waited until they scurried out and closed the door behind them before she began circling Damien, eyeing him appreciatively.

  Damien didn’t move. It reminded him of his time at Castle Roke. His servitude. He was already regretting granting Aurora her wish to have a public wedding ceremony.

  “I told you it was him, Marcu
s,” she cooed, and reached out to him.

  He grabbed her wrist before her long fingers could touch him. “I am no longer slave to Roke.”

  “Technicalities,” the count said.

  She stepped in close to him. “You are a knight now?”

  Damien released her hand. “Yes,” Damien said stiffly.

  The countess chuckled low in her throat as she slanted him a coy sideways glance. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what your rank is. You still look so delicious.”

  Damien opened his mouth to tell her he had no intentions of becoming her plaything, but Count Marcus added, “And you are to marry Lady Aurora?”

  There was something in his voice that sent every nerve in Damien’s body on alert. He looked at him.

  “Marcus was very excited at your choice for a mate.”

  “She is not my mate. She will be my wife,” Damien said firmly.

  Margaret chuckled even deeper. “Even more delicious.” She leaned in close to Damien, letting her breasts brush against his arm. “She is very lovely. Even by my standards. I approve of your choice.”

  Damien straightened. “You are here to join in the celebration of my marriage to Lady Aurora.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “We are here to celebrate. A union such as yours is… worthy of every intimate detail.”

  Damien grit his teeth. “There will be no intimate details between us. I am to be married and take my vows seriously. Lady Aurora is to be my wife. There will be no other.”

  “Surely you cannot mean it. Imagine the pleasure we can all have! Why Marcus has agreed to actually join us if Lady Aurora participates.”

  Damien’s teeth clenched tight. “She will not participate. I will not participate.”

  Margaret pouted and crossed her arms. “Marcus!” she cried.

  He hurried to her side, stroking her back as one would a pet. “Fear not, my dear. There are ways around all vows.”

  “Not these,” Damien growled. “If you cannot control yourselves at Castle Acquitaine, then you will be asked to leave. Is that clear?”

  Marcus drew himself up, his eyes narrowed. “We can contribute to the growth of Acquitaine. The village is in need of a new water way, is it not?”