“This has nothing to do with being lord. And everything to do with my past.”
“This isn’t just going to go away. He isn’t going to go away.”
“I can make him.”
Aurora touched his shoulder. “He’s your father.”
“He was my father. He lost that right for a sack of gold.” Damien placed a hand along the stones next to the window and leaned forward out of her reach to look out.
Aurora folded her hands before her. “I would give almost anything to see my father again,” she whispered, letting the ache of how much she missed him wash over her. “And he wasn’t perfect. What he did…” She shook her head, remembering that it was her father who had hired Roke to kill her mother. “And yet, I miss him.”
“My father is nothing like your father.”
“He could be. You don’t know.”
He whirled on her. “No. He can’t.” He stepped toward her and took her face into his hands. “I don’t want him here.”
“Talk to him.”
“I want nothing to do with him.”
“If that is true, why didn’t you banish him? Why did you lock him in the dungeon?”
Damien’s brows came down in a scowl. His gaze swept her face, her eyes, her lips.
She lifted a hand and placed it over his heart. “Because you have hope. You want to believe that he has changed.”
“No,” the growl ripped from Damien and he dropped his hands, backing away from her. “No.” He shook his head and swept past her toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer as he stormed from the room.
Aurora stood for a moment. And then a chill raced through her. What if he was going to Margaret. What if she had sent him right into the Countess’s willing arms? She grabbed a riding cloak and raced out the door.
Damien entered the forest. Twigs snapped beneath his booted feet. He shoved branches aside. He hurried as if he were running from something. Maybe he was. He paused to look at the moon high in the sky. Hope. He never had hope. He knew his father had not changed.
That was when he heard it. The snap of the twigs behind him. He moved on. Someone was following him. And whoever it was, was not very good at it. He heard their footsteps as they crunched on the fallen leaves and undergrowth of the forest floor. He heard branches breaking as they came too close to the trees. But every time he tried to see who it was, his stalker pulled back to hide behind a bush or tree.
He waited behind a tree, his sword drawn. Time to end this little game and see who was following him and why.
The follower snuck past him. Whoever it was wore a cloak over their head to shield their identity.
Damien stepped out behind him and tapped him on the shoulder with his sword.
The spy whirled to face him.
“Why are you following me?” The moment stretched on. Damien lifted his blade to place it near the person’s neck. “Who are you?” The sharp tip disappeared into the blackness of the hood.
A blonde curl fell from the darkness and the moonlight reflected off its splendor.
Damien lowered his sword. “Aurora?”
Another long silence and then a whispered, “Yes.”
Damien reached out and shoved the hood from her head. Anger surged inside him. He should have recognized her immediately! He had put a sword to her throat! “What are you doing out here?” he demanded, shoving his sword into its sheath.
Her chin lifted. “I could ask the same of you.”
“You were following me. Why?”
“Why?” There was a righteous conviction in her tone. “You sneak from our bed in the middle of the night, run from our room, to… Where were you going?”
Damien was speechless. What could he tell her? He took her arm. “I’ll see you back to the castle.”
She tore her arm free of his hold. “Why the hurry? Aren’t you meeting someone?”
He scowled. “Meeting someone?”
“Where is she?” Aurora looked around the forest.
“Who?”
“Your rendezvous. The countess.”
Damien stared at her in shock for a long moment. The countess? Aurora believed he was secretly meeting with the countess? His lips twitched.
Hurt reflected in the deep pools of her blue eyes.
“You expected to follow me out here and catch me with the countess?” he asked in disbelief. A small chuckle rumbled from his throat at such a ludicrous thought.
“What do you find laughable? That I followed you or that I expected to catch you in your rendezvous?”
“Both!” he said in exasperation.
“Yet you don’t deny the rendezvous,” she said softly.
When the tears welled in her large eyes, all humor left him. The thought that he had caused her hurt… had caused her to doubt her beauty… He remembered the hurt in her gaze when she had seen him kissing Helen. And now, would the doubt always be there? He had done this to her. “I am not here for a rendezvous. I did not leave your bed for another woman.”
“Then…why? Why do you leave me in the middle of the night?”
Damien turned away. He didn’t want to admit his weakness to her.
“It is a tryst, isn’t it?” Her voice trembled.
“No,” he insisted. “There is no other woman. You are the only one I want.”
“But I saw you coming into the Great Hall with the countess on your arm.”
“We made a deal,” Damien admitted. “Part of what she wanted was for me to publicly escort her to the meal.”
She steeled herself. “What else did your part entail?”
“I would never do that to you,” he whispered. “I would never betray you like that.” He swept her up in his arms, holding her tight against him. She resisted at first, but slowly yielded to his embrace. “You are my world, Aurora. You saved me in more ways than I can admit. I would do anything to keep you.”
She shook her head, against his chest. “But why --?”
“There is no why. I can’t explain it.” He pulled back to look into her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes that held the very rising of the sun in them. “I’m sorry I hurt you. But I was never unfaithful. The thought never crossed my mind.” He touched her cheek. The mere contact of her flesh with his sent an ache to taste her flooding through him.
“What do you do out here? Why do you come here?”
He pressed his lips to her resistive ones. “To practice.”
“Practice? You mean with your sword?”
He nodded and dropped his hand to pat the sword at his waist.
“Why not practice with the guards? With the other knights?”
Coldness spread over him. “Knights never welcomed me.” He shrugged. “I can’t get past that. Maybe one day, but not now. Besides, I require a regiment that is strict and merciless. I can’t ask the men to keep up with me. I have to keep my skills honed.” Her gaze scanned his face, and for a moment he felt as though she could see into his soul. His instinct was to pull away, but he fought that instinct. She was to be his wife. He wanted her to understand him.
“I’ve been thinking of this all wrong. I thought you began to leave my bed when the countess arrived. But that’s not it at all, is it?” Her hand lowered to gently cover his healing cut. “It was when the knight wounded you, wasn’t it?”
Startled, he pulled back. Maybe she did understand him more than he gave her credit for. “It had nothing to do with the countess. I should never have let that knight cut me. I’ve been too soft in my training.”
Her face melted into sorrow. “I doubted your loyalty. I doubted you.”
He pushed a strand of gold from her cheek. “You followed me.”
“Can you forgive me?”
He looked into those large, clear eyes. “There is no need. You are perfect the way you are. I would have you no other way.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, having to stand on the tips of her toes to do it. “I love you,” she w
hispered.
He squeezed her back. He wanted to give her everything. He wanted her to be happy. He would do anything for her. Anything. He loved her. He kissed her neck.
“What was this deal you made with the countess?”
He couldn’t stop touching her and ran his hands along her curvy sides. “I wanted her to see if she could identify the knight in the dungeon.”
“She did. That’s how you found out who he was.”
He nodded. “She knows a lot of men. Intimately.”
Aurora scowled. She ran her fingers over his chest. “And what did the rest of the deal entail?”
Damien picked up her fingers and pressed a kiss to their tips. “There is one thing the countess likes more than sex.” He grinned. “Gold.”
A radiant, joyful smile slid over Aurora’s lips. It lit up her entire face.
Damien pressed his lips against hers, sharing in her joy.
Damien had to do this. It was the last remaining thing standing in the way of their happiness. He stared down at his boots as he stood before the door.
Aurora slipped her hand into his.
He hadn’t wanted her to come. She had insisted. And he couldn’t deny her. He didn’t look up, but squeezed her hand. He pushed the key into the lock of the cell door, and when it clicked he eased the door open.
He stood in the doorway, staring into the darkness for a long moment. He wasn’t sure what to expect. The blackness was all consuming. He felt its cold nip at the fingers on his free hand, felt it slither up his back as if it were trying to reclaim him.
He looked at Aurora. Even in the darkness her perfectly braided golden hair was a beacon. But he couldn’t see her face.
Slowly, as Bruno brought the torch from down the hall, the light washed over her in a warm, caressing golden embrace.
Damien clutched her hand, his anchor to the light. He turned to face the cell and stepped inside.
Drip drip drip sounded in the dark cell. The pungent aroma of body odor assailed him. The bitter stench of urine. His immediate instinct was to spirit Aurora far away, but she had already been here. And without his protection.
“Is it you?” The voice cracked.
Aurora had told him everything his father said. He had decided to face him so that Aurora would not be subject to his bitterness. Her compassion was one of her weaknesses. And one of her strengths.
Bruno brought the torch into the cell, hooking it on the sconce on the wall, and then left the small cell.
The light washed over the old man. His boots were worn and dirty. He tried to straighten his legs, but there was a slowness in his movement that came from age. His hands were dirty, black beneath his fingernails. His tunic looked too big for him. His gray hair was greasy and hung in strands about his face. “Damien.” There was no joy in his voice, no gladness.
Damien had expected none. “Father,” he stated. The word was simply a fact. No warm welcome.
A crooked grin stretched his lips. “Manhood has not changed you. Still defiant.”
“Why have you come to Acquitaine?”
“To see my son.”
Damien stared at him for a long moment. It hadn’t been enough to send his boys off on a slaving ship. “Here I am.” His father’s gaze swept him. When his stare shifted to Aurora, shivers of apprehension and distrust trembled across Damien’s shoulders. He could withstand the disdain of his father, but he wanted Aurora to experience none of it.
“You did well for yourself.”
Damien would not comment. He promised himself he would reveal nothing about his life, about the torture he went through when his father sold he and Gawyn, about the long years of abuse under Roke, or about his life now. His father was a stranger to him and he wanted him to stay that way.
“A knight. Future lord of Acquitaine.”
Damien narrowed his eyes. He noticed that the old man was not sick. He was not coughing. The inkling of suspicion tugged at the back of his mind. All of it was a game.
“A beautiful woman.”
Damien stiffened. He wanted to protect Aurora from this man. He didn’t want him to even say her name, much less look at her.
“Even Gawyn is well taken care of.”
Damien grit his teeth. This was not a father coming to visit his sons. This was not a father wanting to be part of his sons’ lives. This was not a father begging forgiveness. He knew why he had come. People didn’t change. But Aurora needed to hear it. Damien wanted her to hear his father’s greed. He wanted her to understand the man would never change. “What do you want?”
His father chuckled.
Shivers of memories raced through his mind. The mocking chortle brought back images he had buried deep in the darkness. Hiding in the corner as his father drank and chortled. Standing up to him to defend Gawyn from a beating. Their father leaving, laughing that same cold laugh as he walked away from the slaver ship with a bag of gold. “How much?”
Aurora swiveled her gaze to him, her lips parted in a silent gasp.
He squeezed her hand, both in comfort and in warning.
“You think you know me so well,” his father snarled. “You think you can buy me off. I am your family. I am your father. You owe me more than that, boy.”
Damien looked down at his father. For the first time in his life, he realized how lucky he was. He did owe him much. If it weren’t for his father being the selfish lout he was and selling his sons, Damien would never have met Aurora. His life would have been horrible. He would have been trapped in the darkness. He might even have been dead by his father’s own fists. He nodded. “You are right. I do owe you more than that.”
Aurora glanced at him again.
When he looked into her large eyes, his heart ached. Every moment of his life had led to her. Every beat of his heart. He nodded. “I will make sure you are given exactly what you deserve.”
Damien stood just outside of the borders of Acquitaine, Gawyn on a horse behind him. The moon was high in the sky. The leaves in the tall trees blew and rustled in a small breeze just off the road behind his father.
Tobias looked around suspiciously.
Did he expect that Damien was going to have him killed?
Tobias finally looked at Damien. “Get it over with.”
Some people changed, Damien thought. But not his father. He had come for coin. And he expected death. It was what he deserved. In his other life, Damien wouldn’t have hesitated to shove a dagger into his stomach. But he was a different man now. He had changed.
Gawyn moved his horse closer to Damien. He handed him a sack.
Tobias scowled, watching the movement.
Damien held the bag in his hand for a moment, weighing it. A wealthy amount. Surely more than his father received when he sold them to the slaver. Damien shoved the bag at him, the coins inside clinking. “This is more than you deserve.”
Tobias seized the sack with two hands, his lips curling in joy.
“Leave,” Damien commanded. “And never come back. If I find you within Acquitaine borders again, I will kill you.”
Tobias glanced at Gawyn and then back at Damien. His lip curled in a sneer and he turned his back on them and began to walk down the road. He held the bag of gold clutched before him, the glow of the moon washing over his crooked shoulders.
Damien thought of another time that his father had walked away from him and Gawyn holding a bag of gold. He remembered the shock at the time. He remembered how Gawyn had called out after their father as they were led aboard the slave ship.
Now, there was silence. Now, there was nothing at all…
Chapter Nine
Aurora stood inside the keep before the large double doors leading to the inner courtyard. Her blue dress, sewn for her wedding, shimmered slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She glanced over her shoulder at Jennifer who stood just behind her to attend her. Tears of happiness filled her cousin’s eyes. Aurora flapped a hand at her. “Stop it,” she ordered light heartedly. “
You’re going to make me cry!”
Jennifer hugged Aurora tightly. “I’m so happy for you.”
Aurora pressed a kiss to Jennifer's cheek and once again turned to the doors.
Gawyn held out his arm. “M’lady.”
Aurora looked at his arm for a moment, wishing it could have been her father who had given her away. But she knew he was with her in spirit. Her hand closed over the sapphire pendant he had given her long ago. She hooked her hand through Gawyn’s arm, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Are you nervous?” Gawyn wondered.
She considered his words. “No,” she finally admitted.
As the doors opened, she silently gasped and realized that she was, indeed, nervous. Not because she was about to become Damien's wife, but because of all the attention.
People of all ranks, peasant, knight and noble filled the courtyard. Guards watched from the walkways at the top of the castle walls.
Aurora had never seen such a gathering. A sea of people.
Gawyn set his hand over Aurora’s arm for reassurance. “You look lovely,” he whispered. “They all think so, too.”
Aurora glanced at him. Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she leaned close to him to murmur, “I see Damien talked you into wearing the velvet jupon.”
“He bribed me,” Gawyn admitted. “I am now the proud owner of a war horse.”
Aurora smiled. “You should have held out for a new sword, too.”
As they started into the inner ward, the peasants and villagers bowed and curtseyed as they passed.
There could not have been a more beautiful or perfect day for the wedding. The sun shone brightly in the sky, not a cloud visible. Birds chirped from the rooftops and rafters.
Aurora looked toward the church, searching for Damien. But there were just too many people. She couldn’t see the church doors yet.
Gawyn escorted her along a path lined with roses. Finally, they turned a corner. Aurora spotted Damien waiting just before the church. Her breath caught in her throat. He was dressed in white. From his boots, to his leggings, to his jupon. His dark hair hung about his shoulders, in stark contrast to his glowing apparel. She realized with a start that she had never seen him dressed in anything other than black. Her heart quickened as a smile spread over his lips. She almost stumbled on the first step, but Gawyn held her tightly. She reached out to Damien.
Legends of Medieval Romance: The Complete Angel's Assassin Trilogy Page 31