Cherished Protector of Her Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Damien put his sword to the knight’s throat. “Blood line or no, Aurora chose me.” He pushed his booted foot onto the knight’s wrist until his fingers opened, releasing the sword. Damien kicked it across the room into the wall. He kept his sword to the knight’s throat. “Rupert,” he ordered.

  When Rupert moved forward with two men at arms, Damien removed his sword from the knight's throat and sheathed it.

  “Damien!” Aurora cried and came toward him.

  The crowd around him began to disperse at Rupert’s commands. That’s when Damien became aware of the familiar sting in his side. He had been cut. Weak, Roke would call him. Damien grit his teeth, pushing the image from his mind. He turned away and started down the hallway, away from Aurora. He didn’t want her to see his wound, to see his limitation, his humiliation.

  He hurried to his room, away from the crowd, away from the onlookers. He took the stairs two at a time and moved down the hallway to his room. Once he had closed the door behind him, sealing out the world, he looked down at his tunic. It was soaked with his blood. He lifted his tunic over his head.

  A thin line on his left side oozed blood, running down his side to his breeches.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Damien.”

  Damien moved over to the basin of water on the table beside his bed. He dipped a cloth into it, soaking up water. He dabbed at the cut, hissing as the cool water touched his hot wound, washing the blood away.

  “Damien?”

  Angry with himself at being so weak, and unable to protect himself, he snapped, “Go away.” He clenched his teeth against the agony flaring up from his side. It wasn’t life threatening, but probably needed stitches. He should have been able to disarm the knight. He should never have let it come this far. But he felt trapped. Trapped between two lives. Lord and assassin. He dipped his head over the water, his fingers clenching the table tight. The problem was, he felt more comfortable as an assassin.

  His reflection in the water rippled with uncertainty.

  Aurora stood outside the door. Go away. They were words he had never said to her before. Uncertainty tingled throughout her body. Misgivings spread doubt through her mind. She had never loved anyone as much as she did Damien. He had saved her; he had always been there for her. And now… Go away.

  She stepped away from the door. Why would he say that to her? She had just wanted to make sure he was all right. She lifted her chin. She was lady of Acquitaine. She didn’t have time for self doubt. She needed to be a figurehead to her people. She turned and walked away down the hallway. She had guests to attend to.

  Damien was the only one she had left. With the passing of her father, she had no family left. The bond of family had always been strong for her. She loved her father. And she missed him desperately. It was during times like these, of insecurity and doubt, that she would seek him out to talk. But he was gone and she felt a keen sense of loneliness.

  She paused at the stairway to glance back at Damien’s door. Not all of her family was gone. Damien was her family now. And even if he had told her to go away, there were other members of his family in the castle. Damien’s family was hers, too, now. Gawyn was the brother she never had. Damien had started out unforgiving of him, too. He had wanted nothing to do with Gawyn when he first arrived at Acquitaine. But now, they were close.

  There was one other person she wanted to make amends with. One other member of Damien’s family. She turned her steps toward the lower part of the castle.

  Aurora wanted desperately to have his father be like hers. But she steeled herself, knowing he was not. He had sold Damien into slavery when he was a boy. She descended the dark stone stairs into the bleakness, following the dungeon guard. The guard was a big burly man, his forearms larger than a tree’s trunk. He held a torch high above his head.

  The smell of body odor wafted to her. Somewhere from the bottom of the stairs, beyond the torchlight, she heard scurrying noises. The drip drip of water came from the murkiness and the air around her grew thicker the lower they moved.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the guard paused and turned to her. His gaze swept over her.

  Aurora was embarrassed she did not know this guard’s name. She prided herself on such things, but she had never seen him before.

  “Ya shouldn’t be down here, m’lady. This isn’t fer the likes of ya.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Aurora said kindly. “May I ask your name?”

  The guard looked at her in surprise.

  “I believe this is the first time we have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

  The guard’s brows rose in his round face. He scratched his head. “There was once, m’lady, when you were but a young girl. I was making my way ta the Keep, crossing the inner ward. Ya raced right into me.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  The guard grinned. “Naw. Ya apologized. No one had ever apologized to me before.” His lips twisted wistfully. “And yer hair. It shined like sunlight.” His gaze shifted to her hair at the top of her head. “It gets awfully dark down here. I like to remember how your hair shines like the sun when I’m down here in the dark.”

  Aurora felt a stab of pity for him. She laid her hand on his beefy wrist. “That is very kind of you.”

  He bobbed his head.

  "I'd like to see the prisoner now, if you don't mind. The old man."

  The guard scowled and bobbed his head before turning to continue down the dark hallway, the circle of light cutting the darkness like a blade.

  “Wait,” Aurora said and her voice echoed off of the walls.

  The guard turned.

  “Your name. You haven’t told me what it is.”

  “Bruno,” he said and turned to lead her down the hallway. He stopped at the first cell. “We don’t get many prisoners down here.”

  Aurora nodded and looked at the cell door. A small window, lined with bars was the only way to see in.

  Bruno pulled the lock back and opened the door. It creaked as he pulled it open. He thrust the torch inside, lighting up the center of the small cell. He stepped inside, holding the door for her.

  Aurora entered after him. Her eyes scanned the cell. The floor was dirt; cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

  Bruno swatted a cobweb aside, away from her. He jerked his chin toward the wall.

  Aurora turned. Sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up and his arms resting on them, sat a hunched man. Around his wrists were thick iron bands.

  She walked up to him.

  “Careful, m’lady,” Bruno warned.

  She stood over the man for a long moment. His clothing seemed to be well cared for; the edges were sewn and maybe even new. His boots looked scuffed and worn, but there were no holes she could see. His fingers hung over his knees, long and wrinkled. His dark hair was peppered with gray.

  “You smell like flowers.” The voice was old and gravelly. He lifted his eyes to her. His face was gaunt, his lips thin.

  She knelt before him, to be eye level with him. She could see the similarity with Damien, in his eyes, the set of his jaw. And even Gawyn shared his cheekbones and nose. “Why have you come here to Acquitaine?”

  “My son was getting married. How could I not? Are you Lady Aurora?”

  She nodded. His gaze swept over her, assessing. Then, he snorted and shook his head.

  Aurora scowled slightly. It was almost disbelief she saw in his eyes when he met her stare again.

  “Why would you marry him?”

  “You don’t know him,” she said. It was a statement. His own father did not know how wonderful Damien was, what a strong man, an admirable man he was. He didn’t answer. Aurora continued, “He is a wonderful man.”

  “He is an assassin!”

  Aurora didn’t reply as his voice echoed off the cold walls.

  He shook his head. “Maybe one day he’ll kill you. Maybe one day he’ll kill me.”

  She was silent, listening, trying to understand him. Damien was not
the man his father remembered, or believed him to be.

  “I came here because I was desperate. I have nothing. No gold. No home. No family.”

  And despite her resolve, she felt her heart softening. He was alone. As alone as she sometimes felt. Her gaze raked him. He lived in shadow, in cold and lonely emptiness.

  “I suppose it’s what I deserve after what I did.”

  “Selling your sons to the slavers?”

  He locked eyes with her. She saw defeat in his orbs, defeat and sorrow. “He told you, did he?” His gaze swept her. “Damn, you are a beauty.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  The old man dropped his gaze, his brow furrowing. “I should have known he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That he wouldn’t want me to be a part of his life any longer.”

  “What did you expect?”

  He shrugged. “That he would kick me out. That he would…” He looked up at her. “…have pity on an old man.”

  Damien would have kicked him out, Aurora was sure, if somewhere inside of him he didn’t want to speak to him. Perhaps he did want to make amends. That’s why he threw him in the dungeon instead of sending him on his way. Or so she wanted to believe.

  “I never expected him to lock me up.”

  “Maybe it’s Damien’s way of keeping you safe.”

  The old man snorted.

  “Out on the streets with no coin, no home, is a great temptation to many. Stealing. Drinking. Fighting. I see it all of the time. Here may not be grand comfort, but you are fed and taken care of.”

  “A prisoner.”

  Aurora nodded. “For now. I’m sure Damien will come around.” She stood.

  He reached out and grabbed her hand.

  Bruno reacted instantly, lashing out with a fist, knocking his hand from hers. The old man cowered back, protecting his face with his hands.

  “It’s all right, Bruno,” Aurora said. She stepped toward the old man and reached out, taking his hand into hers. “I will see to it that you are taken care of.”

  He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Thank you, Lady Aurora. Thank you.”

  Cherished Protector of Her Heart - Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Five

  More and more guests arrived during the day. The castle scurried with activity. It was midday and Aurora still hadn’t seen Damien. She went to his room to find the door closed. She hesitated to knock, instead running her fingers along the wood of the door. His words still stung. He would come to her in his own time.

  She usually went to do embroidery with the other women, but she didn’t think she could face them at the moment. She felt… hurt. Despondent. She missed her father. There was so much to do and she knew she was being selfish. But it was Damien’s words that had hurt her most of all.

  Go away.

  With a gentle sigh, she headed to the chapel. The ceiling reached higher than the Great Hall. When Aurora was little, she often thought it reached to Heaven. She felt comforted here, welcomed and at peace. The chapel was empty at this time of day and she knelt in one of the front pews, right before the altar. She clutched her hands in prayer, bowing her head over fingers. She had always come here for guidance. And now as head of Acquitaine, she needed it more than ever.

  “M’lady,” a voice called.

  Aurora looked up. A shorter man with a balding head made his way down the pew she knelt in. Although they had not been formally introduced, Aurora recognized him as Count Marcus Dumas.

  “Excuse the interruption. May I join you?”

  Aurora sat back in the pew, nodding. “Of course. You are Count Dumas, yes?”

  Count Dumas took her hand in his, bending over her knuckles. “It is a pleasure. And thank you for allowing us to share in such a joyous occasion.”

  He had dark eyes that were too close and reminded Aurora of a mouse. She quickly banished the thought. “Thank you for joining us.”

  His gaze swept her face. Somehow, his close inspection made her uncomfortable. She looked at the cross on the wall. “I hope you are finding Acquitaine accommodating.”

  He grinned. “Well… there are a few luxuries that the Countess and I enjoy that have not been made available.”

  Aurora turned her gaze to him. “Anything you need will be provided. You need just ask.”

  He took her hand into his. “The evening meal. Just you, me and the countess. We hope to be life long friends and would like to get to know you better.”

  Chills raced along her nape. There was something about this man, something in the way he held her hand, something in his hungry look that unnerved her. “I have guests arriving. I think –”

  “You did say just ask and it would be provided.”

  Aurora straightened. “I think it would be better if you joined me in the Great Hall as my guest of honor.” She pulled her hand free of his hold.

  The Count shook his head. “That is… troubling. We were hoping to discuss funding a new water way for Acquitaine.”

  Aurora was silent for a long moment. Acquitaine could benefit greatly from a water way. But she had this feeling… he was not to be trusted. “And what do you require in return?”

  “A private meal with you.”

  He grinned like a wolf eyeing a lamb. She shook her head, choosing to follow her instinct. “I’m sorry, Count Dumas, but now is not the time. I have guests arriving and a castle to run. I’m afraid at this time a private meal is impossible.” She stood. “But thank you for your offer of a water way.”

  Count Dumas didn’t blink. His smiled was frozen in place. “Perhaps another time.”

  Aurora nodded. “Yes. Perhaps.” Aurora waited for him to move or stand so she could move by him. But the moment stretched on. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his dark eyes and a tremor of apprehension slid down her back. Aurora clasped her hands before her. “Excuse me.”

  The Count didn’t move. He stared at her as if it were some kind of a game.

  Aurora took a small breath. “In the house of the Lord, of all places, you should show a woman respect. In my castle, you should show me respect.”

  The count’s smile dissolved to a grin and he stood, giving her room to pass with a mumbled apology.

  She slid by without touching him and walked down the aisle toward the back of the chapel. She was grateful to be away from him. She could still feel his eyes on her and tingles raced up her spine. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had made a good decision.

  She had almost reached the back doors when a shadow separated from the statues of saints at the side of the chapel and approached her. “Still praying for that forgiveness?”

  The instinctive anxiety and fear gripping her at the movement gave way instantly to tingles of excitement as she recognized the voice. She lifted her chin. “Patience,” she answered.

  Damien’s gaze swept her and then he glanced at the count and back to her. “For him?”

  She met his gaze evenly. “No.”

  He winced as a smile dawned on his lips. “Ouch. I should feel insulted.”

  Aurora moved out the back doors. “And so you should.”

  Damien followed her into the hallway. “Aurora.” He took her elbow in his hand to stop her. “What did Dumas want?”

  “Is that all you have to say to me? Is that all you are concerned about?”

  Surprise lifted his brows.

  “I would never tell you to go away.” She turned and headed down the corridor, angry with herself because her voice had taken on a telling hurt note.

  With two long strides, he stood before her, blocking her way. He hesitated a moment as if he were searching for the right words. He stared into her eyes for a silent moment. “You are the last person I ever want to hurt. And I never want you to go away.”

  “That’s not what you said.”

  He took a breath. “The knight in the hallway. The one sword fighting.” Aurora nodded and he continued. “He cut me.”

  She gasped, her eyes lowering to search his body
.

  Damien took her hands into his. “I’m fine. I took care of it.”

  Aurora shook her head, still scanning his torso. “I shouldn’t have –”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Why didn’t you let me in? I could have helped you. I could –”

  Damien wet his lips with his tongue. “You’ve seen me enough on my back, bleeding and weak.” He said the last with a tinge of bitterness.

  She stared at him. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the past, as she thought of the time he had almost died because of Warin Roke. “I am to be your wife. I am the only one you should allow to see you that way. The one who never wants to see you that way.”

  “I don’t want you to see me like that.” He looked away. “Weak, unable to defend you.”

  “That isn’t how I see you.”

  Damien looked into her eyes. He placed his hands on her face. His palms were warm; his thumbs stroked her cheeks. “Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “You’ve done enough to convince me otherwise. Haven’t you? I love you, Damien.”

  He shook his head, gritting his teeth. His fingers wove into her hair. “I am a commoner, my love. They will question my rule at every turn. They will question my right… to you.”

  Aurora lifted her chin. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. “Then we will have to make sure they do not. There will have to be strict penalties for defying your order. Of course, our people would never –”

  He silenced her doctrine by kissing her lips, his tongue sweeping into her mouth possessively.

  Aurora let her hands move over his shoulders and buried them beneath his thick hair. She hated that he felt uneasy in his new role. The only thing she could do was support him and hope he learned. She slanted her head, giving him access to her mouth. She was rewarded by a low growl from deep in his throat.