Angel's Assassin

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Nineteen

  Earn your freedom, the voice commanded. Complete your mission.

  I can’t, Damien tried to answer.

  You are not like her, the voice said in a velvety caress. You can never be like her. One day, she will see the ugliness you have in your soul and she will turn her back on you. Just like your father.

  No, Damien replied. She would never do that.

  You cannot lie to me, the voice answered. I know your greatest fears. I feel your worst pains. Do not love her.

  I am incapable of love, Damien said.

  Then finish it.

  ***

  Damien bolted upright, reaching for his weapon. His fingers closed over leaves and twigs. His sword was not there!

  Aurora! Where was she?

  His gaze swept his surroundings. Moonlight bathed the leaf-cluttered ground in dark and light patches. Silhouettes of trees and brush circled him. He was still in the forest. Had Aurora run as he commanded her? Then he saw her nearby, in a pool of dappled moonlight, laying still.

  Damien crawled across the small expanse to her side. Tentatively, he reached for her, stretching his fingers toward her slowly. He was afraid he was still locked in the throes of a nightmare, fearful that when he touched her she would disappear, vanish as if she had never really existed. His hand carefully stroked the luxurious strands of her hair, and when his angel did not vanish or turn into some horrible monster, Damien grew bolder. He lifted his hand to the curve of her cheek, smoothing a beautiful golden lock from her skin.

  “She is unharmed.”

  Tingles of warning flared in his body. How could he have missed his presence? Fighting dizziness, Damien stood and slowly turned.

  The man materialized out of the darkness, looking every bit as confident as Damien remembered.

  It had been years since he had last seen his brother. But he always knew he was lurking somewhere nearby. Following. Watching. Waiting. Damien’s jaw clenched until it hurt. “Gawyn, you bastard,” he snarled. “What did you do to her?”

  Gawyn’s lip curled slightly. “Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?”

  Damien took a menacing step forward. “What did you do to her?”

  “She is asleep,” Gawyn said. “She would not leave your side, even under the threat of my dagger pointed at her belly.”

  “You hurt her and I will kill you,” Damien promised.

  “Hurt her?” Gawyn’s hand dipped to the handle of his dagger in his belt. “You were sent to kill her.”

  “I was sent to kill her,” Damien affirmed. “Not you or anyone else.” He quickly closed his mouth and looked at Aurora, realizing what he had just declared openly. Much to his relief, she still slept. He lowered his voice. “My time is not over. I have two days left. You stay out of it.”

  Gawyn shrugged. “I’m beginning to think you can’t do it.”

  “I’m not concerned with what you think,” Damien said.

  “After all these years of wanting your freedom, I find it difficult to believe you would falter.”

  Damien clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why you’re here?” Damien demanded. “To take my freedom from me?”

  Gawyn chuckled and shook his head. “I want to help you.”

  Damien turned his back on Gawyn, gritting his teeth. Help me, he mentally scoffed. Gawyn had never returned to free him from the Redemption when he had needed him the most. His fists balled into tight wads.

  “You may fool Lady Aurora, but you can not fool me,” Gawyn said. “I know who you are. Who you’ve always been. Death. The Grim Reaper.” Gawyn jerked his chin at the beheaded killer. “You even killed that assassin in a hopeless attempt at honor. But Death has no honor. You can’t change who you are. Not even for her.”

  Damien stood absolutely still for a moment. His stare found Aurora. Was that what he was trying to do? Change who he was? He liked to be with Aurora. She made him feel worthwhile. She made him feel… whole, like he had a soul worth saving. But did he want to change? “What do you want? Why are you following me?”

  Gawyn’s jaw clenched tight and he shook his head. “You can’t pass up this chance to get your freedom. I won’t let you. Not after all these years. All these years of damning me for being too late. For cursing me for not returning! And here, here your freedom is laid at your feet and you just turn your back on it?”

  Damien squeezed his fists tighter. He knew what was at stake. “I will do it when I am ready. Not when you tell me to do it.”

  Gawyn snorted in disbelief. “Finish your mission before it’s too late. Do it before you can’t.”

  Damien turned, but Gawyn had vanished. Damn him. Damn him for showing up here in Acquitaine. Damn him for not minding his own business. Damn him to hell for daring to threaten Aurora.

  She had not left him, not even under the threat of harm. Damien shook his head. He had commanded her to run. Instead, she risked her life to remain at his side. That had been one of his rules, that she obey him without question. She could have been killed. Had it been another assassin, she would not be sleeping now. Damien fully planned to reprimand her when she woke.

  But for now he could feast upon her beauty in the darkness and she would be none the wiser. Damien walked slowly to her. He stood above her, staring down at her small figure cushioned against the forest floor. She was enchanting and mesmerizing. He fought down the urge to touch her as she slept, to sweep his hand across her cheek, through her hair, over her lips... as if she belonged to him. She didn’t belong to him. She didn’t belong here. She belonged in a glorious bed of thick, warm furs and mountains of pillows. She belonged to her people.

  Her eyes fluttered and opened. Damien stared down into her sleepy blue eyes. They held all the redemption his black heart longed for. His worries about Gawyn, about his freedom, and about his mission faded beneath the radiance in her orbs.

  She was safe. And right now that was all that mattered.

  He knelt beside her.

  She moved to sit up, but he caught her cheek in his palm, stilling the movement.

  For a moment, there was hesitancy in her eyes, wariness. Then, she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his hand, nuzzling it.

  He was lost in those lips, in the feel of her warm skin against his palm and he wondered what it might be like to wake up with such a beauty in his arms every morning. He shook himself firmly of such thoughts, a dark scowl sweeping over his brow. Those thoughts were madness. He needed focus.

  “There was a man,” Aurora said. “He stopped the poison.” She glanced around the clearing. “Is he still here?”

  Damien shook his head. “He is gone.”

  “Who was he?”

  Damien did not answer.

  “Did you see him?”

  “There was no one here when I woke,” Damien told her.

  “We must find him…”

  Damien held up his hand, silencing her. He looked at her for a long moment. “Why didn’t you run?”

  Aurora scanned his face in a silent caress. “I could not leave you.”

  Damien growled low in his throat. She put herself in danger because of him, to save him. He was not worth saving. He could never hold even the tiniest of sparks to her radiance, to her goodness. And still, she stared at him with such wonder and kindness and relief. He could not resist her. Not a moment longer. He curved a hand at the nape of her neck and pulled her to him, fiercely claiming her lips, wanting… needing to touch her. He pressed his hot lips against hers, sliding over her wet coolness. God’s blood, even now, half poisoned and recovering his strength, he grew hard for her.

  A whimper escaped her lips and Damien wasn’t sure whether it was desire or protest. He loosened his grip on her, not wanting to punish or hurt, only wanting to drink of her nectar, her kindness, to absorb some of it into his black soul. Maybe then… maybe then he would be worth saving.

  She pulled back and there was a pout to her thoroughly kissed lips.

  He
saw the unease edging her eyes, the concern. He had frightened her, the one woman in the entire world he didn’t want to scare. The look on her face saddened him and he looked away.

  The words from the darkness of his dream came to him. She will see you for the ugliness you have in your soul one day and she will turn her back on you. Did she remember what he had done to the assassin? The violence? The blood? Had it tainted her?

  He did not want her to look at him with fear, but he had known one day she would. One day she must. But not so early. Not so soon.

  Aurora climbed to her feet.

  “Where is my sword?” Damien demanded, searching the forest floor. He could not look at her.

  “Here.” It had been hidden beneath the flare of her dress when she was lying down.

  Damien nodded in satisfaction. He picked it up, pausing as he looked into her eyes. They sparkled a pale blue in the moonlight.

  Aurora stared at him for a long, pensive moment. Then, she dipped her head in thought. The furrows of her brow deepened as her gaze stopped at his thigh, lingering on his wound. “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Well enough to see you back to your castle.” He sheathed his weapon and took a step toward Acquitaine.

  “Damien,” she called.

  He hesitated. He didn’t want her to fear him. Would she condemn him now for his violence? The silence stretched. Finally, he turned to her and his breath caught in his throat.

  She stood in middle of the forest, bathed in a pool of moonlight. Her blonde hair, loose from any constraints, fell to her waist in thick waves. Her back was straight, her tiny body alluring and curvy and delectable. But it was her eyes that captured his attention. He saw no fear in her eyes. It was concern. Had he mistaken fear for concern?

  Damien had never felt such an overwhelming need for anything in his life. He trembled with his want of her.

  A swirl of emotions played over her face. Concern, regret, helplessness.

  It took all Damien’s willpower not to go to her and sweep her into his embrace. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to harm her. He didn’t want to taint her.

  “I will never leave you,” she finally confessed and tears entered her eyes.

  Damien came toward her then, like a tumultuous storm cloud. “You don’t know what you are saying,” he warned in a savage whisper.

  Aurora did not run for cover; she did not shrink from his approach. She stared up into his face with those damned clear orbs. And for the briefest of moments, Damien saw himself reflected as she saw him. A hero, a good man. A man worthy of all he could attain.

  He stood before her, stunned.

  The sound of horses thundering through the clearing pounded a warning through the ground.

  Damien grabbed Aurora’s hand in one hand, and drew his sword in the other. He watched the group of men approach through the forest, clumsily maneuvering their steeds through the tight trees. He pulled Aurora behind him.

  These men were no brigands. They wore heraldry, and while Damien couldn’t be sure, he suspected they were from Acquitaine.

  As they drew closer, his suspicions were confirmed. One of them called out, “Lady Aurora!”

  Damien refused to relinquish her. For just one moment, she had been his. And it had been the most glorious moment of his life.

  “Lady Aurora!” another called.

  His time alone with her was over.

  “I am here,” Aurora called out, a reluctance in her tone.

  Four men came forward, three of whom wore red tunics with a white dove embroidered onto it, the symbol of Acquitaine. But the leader wore a different crest. A black lion on a white background. He reached them first, reining his horse to a stop before them. His blonde hair waved gently in the breeze. His dark eyes swept them. “Lady Aurora,” he gasped, dismounting. He brushed his blonde hair aside and knelt before her. Practiced, polished. Fake.

  Damien hated him on sight.

  Aurora stiffened. She released Damien’s hand and stepped toward the knight. “Count Ormand,” she greeted.

  Ormand stood and his gaze shifted to Damien with just the right disdainful curl of his lip, then back to Aurora. “I came to rescue you as soon as I heard an attempt was made on your life. Imagine my surprise at finding you gone.”

  “We were attacked by an assassin. Damien was struck by a poison arrow.”

  One of Ormand’s eyebrows rose. “Another assassin?” He looked at Damien, then back at Aurora. “Were you hurt, m’lady?”

  “No,” she said. “Damien saved me. Again.”

  Ormand looked at Damien. “This must be the amazing Damien.”

  Aurora nodded. “Ormand, this is Damien. Damien, this is Count Ormand.”

  “I am Aurora’s betrothed,” Ormand stated with a slight lifting of his chin so he could stare down at Damien.

  Betrothed. The word rang in Damien’s head like a thunderous bell and his teeth clenched. Betrothed. Betrothed. What did it matter? But the word did not stop clanging in his thoughts. Betrothed.

  Ormand’s pompous stare swept Damien suspiciously from head to foot. “Why is he half naked? And what in heaven’s name were you doing out in the forest knowing that your life is in danger?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “What were you doing out in the forest knowing your life is in danger?” Lord Gabriel demanded, his teeth clenched, his eyes pinpoints of anger.

  Aurora stood in the middle of his solar, her hands clasped before her as if she were praying. And, in reality, she was. “I was going to Widow Dorothy’s cottage to deliver a bag of supplies. I always do.”

  “Foolish! You do that every week. And everyone knows it.”

  Her gaze shifted to Damien who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He had refused to have his thigh looked at, instead opting to remain at her side. Their eyes locked. She had put his life in danger. She dropped her gaze to the rushes on the floor. “She needs the herbs. I –”

  “Sir Rupert had a messenger deliver them, as you should have had.”

  “I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered.

  “I’m afraid in this matter, sorry is not enough,” he said sternly.

  No. Sorry was not enough. It was crazy, ridiculous. Damien could have been killed. And it would have been her fault. Her throat closed.

  “If it weren’t for Damien you would be dead, now. How many times must he save you?”

  She cast a glance at Damien. Yes, how many times? Aurora asked herself.

  “I will find the person responsible for hiring the assassins and punish him.”

  She nodded obediently at his words, but she knew such words were empty. Her father had never found the assassin, nor the man responsible for hiring him, in her mother’s death. She nodded so as not to wound his pride, hiding her doubt behind compliance.

  “Until then you will stay in the castle. Let Damien do his job.”

  Again, she nodded. But she didn’t turn away. Not yet. “The assassin Damien killed in the forest…” Aurora hedged. “Did you learn anything from him?”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that. I know how traumatic this is for you. Just put it out of your mind. I will let you know when this is over.”

  It was more traumatic not knowing. She stepped forward. “I would like to know if anything was discovered.”

  “This is not work for you, child.”

  His dismissal was insulting and condescending. She was capable of running the market and handing out judgments to her people, but when it came to matters of blood and death she was a child?

  “I will see to this,” her father insisted, his voice stern.

  Aurora bowed her head and backed to the door. She hesitated. She cast a glance at her father, wanting to know his plans, wanting to know more about what he was going to do, but he had fallen into a chair, his head in his hands. She knew their discussion was over.

  ***

  Aurora sat in the Great Hall, staring at her meal. She had ripped a hole in her loaf of bread
and the pieces lay scattered below her fingers on the table. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. Damien had distanced himself from her, locked himself behind a wall of silence. He had not spoken to her since their return from the forest, not since their encounter with Ormand. He watched her from across the table. She could feel his stare on her. And even though he sat a few feet from her, loneliness surrounded her.

  A few people began to trickle into the Great Hall to break their fast. It would only be time before the castle woke and started the day. Aurora couldn’t face her people. Not now. She planned to finish eating and be asleep before the day fully started.

  “My dear.”

  Aurora lifted her gaze to see Count Ormand taking the seat beside her. Her throat tightened. She looked back down at her meal. “My lord,” she mumbled the standard courtesy.

  Ormand placed a hand over her arm.

  She slid her wrist from his hold.

  A golden eyebrow lifted. He cast a glance at Damien and back at her. “I’ve been away far too long, my sweet lady.”

  Aurora bowed her head as guilt settled in her chest. Ormand was her betrothed, the man her father had chosen for her. She knew very little about him, only the few things her father had told her. He was a very successful lord with a vast holding of lands, well-farmed and well-kept. Their betrothal still did not seem real to her. There had been no courtship. The only thing that bound them together was a piece of parchment filled with words and her father’s signature and stamp.

  “Now that I am here, there will be no more attempts on your life.”

  Aurora’s gaze snapped to him. “You’ve found the man who hired the assassins?”

  Ormand brushed away her statement with a flick of his wrist. “No one will harm you when I am around.” He pressed a reassuring hand to her back.

  Her mouth dropped open at his arrogant boast.

  He cast another glance at Damien. “It must have been hard for you being trailed by such a… vagabond.”