by Arms, Angie
Her meal was brought to her and she sat staring at the plate, feeling her stomach roll in protest. She didn’t have the appetite to do more than pick at it. After no more instructions came to her she decided to make use of the large bed and lay down on it intent on going to sleep. But sleep was elusive and she could do nothing but lay there in the dark and imagine two brothers. One was ready to die to keep a king’s secret and the other was willing to be tortured to keep his brother safe. What kind of man showed no mercy to rebels but would show it to her and claim her as the king’s property? What kind of man lived with the weight of his brother’s scars upon his shoulders?
Long after she lay down she heard the tapestry slowly open then close behind someone. She feigned sleep because somehow she knew the intruder was Damien. She heard the man go through the process of removing his sword, chain mail and clothing. She felt the blankets she laid on top of lift and he slid underneath them. He never came near her but lay on his back. After a while she opened her eyes enough to see his head was propped on his arms folded underneath it and he stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t take long after he climbed into bed with her for her eyelids to grow heavy and she dozed.
Chapter 3
Damien watched the sun rise from the master chamber of Staward. How many had stood at this very spot and watched the sun rise and set. How many times had he thought he would never see the dawn of a new day?
Cyrille had not slept with Lady Keri. The report from his brother had been a relief he did not dare contemplate. He thought surely his brother had enjoyed the warrior woman’s pleasures but he reported tending her wounds and sending a meal to her. This came from him as if he was apprising a superior officer of a night watch. As if he had not given up the luxury of such a luscious prize.
He turned to look at her now, lying in the bed he had just left. She was such a lovely, feminine creature in her sleep. Her hair held various shades of color from the hair underneath, untouched by the sun it was nearly black to reds and browns ending with near streaks of blonde the sun had faded. He guessed it was from her time practicing her battle ax wielding skills. Thick brown lashes fanned her cheek concealing her light brown eyes that were like the finest ale when she looked up at him but like fine ale it left him wanting more.
The thought of her with a man like Bryson made him angry. He turned quickly away to gaze out the window again. He wondered what their wedding bed was like for a woman so full of fire coupled with a man as sloth like as Bryson. Now that she was a widow could he seduce her? Why would he even need to put that much effort in? She was his property for the moment. It wasn’t like she was an untouched virgin and all would know of his trespass. Who would know and ultimately care if he tried her a time or two? No one came to mind but something had kept him on his side of the bed last night. Perhaps he did not wish to add rape to his ever growing pile of sins he would one day have to answer for. Or perhaps it was because he knew what it was like to be a prisoner and the helpless fear that choked and threatened insanity. The Lady Keri had not only lost her home but her freedom. Her future was in the hands of strangers and he hoped with his entire being that he would not have reason to kill her.
He heard her stir in the bed behind him but he didn’t turn. He wanted just another moment of this morning peace before he had to step back into his dark world. When finally he turned from the risen sun it was to see her sitting up in the bed staring groggily at him. The woman must have no inclination of how seductive she appeared with her hair in disarray falling about her shoulders. The blanket falling off one shoulder exposed the top of her breasts. She looked like she had taken a fresh tumble in bed, the bed he had shared with her. His body reacted immediately so his voice sounded peevish when it came out as he crossed the chamber. “Get ready, I’ll be back for you. We’re sitting this one ablaze too.” He opened then closed the door behind him leaving the threat hanging in the air.
~ ~ ~ ~
While Damien was getting his troops together and preparing the final destruction of Staward Keri had enough time to find an old dress to don. Although it swallowed her and dipped dangerously close to exposing her breasts it was better than nothing at all. Cyrille came to collect her, his face already covered by his gray hood. She couldn’t say the man frightened her, especially after his careful treatment of her the night before. That he did those things for his enemy confused her for she wanted to hate them all especially the brothers because they killed Alec. Cyrille she could more readily forgive for his part came in the heat of battle. Damien on the other hand killed him in cold blood, a circumstance she would never forgive.
He studied her for a moment then picking up the brush he moved toward her and took a moment to brush her hair for her and tie it back with a piece of leather he pulled from around his armor. “Why do you have those?” she asked pointing to the many thin leather strips tied up and down his arms on the outside of his chain mail.
The movement was so quick Keri nearly missed it but the result could not as he reached up, grabbed an end of one of the strips, tugged it free then reached for her so swiftly and twisted the strip around her neck she gasped. He held her firmly against himself, the leather so thin it would have bitten into her neck with the slightest of pressure. “When all else fails, it is good to have a backup plan,” his voice whispered in her ear sending goose bumps skittering along her spine.
He released her then and retied the strip where it was on his arm. He then walked to the chains and picked them up, advancing toward her.
“What are you doing with those?” she asked with a great deal of trepidation.
“Damien ordered it.”
“That is not necessary, he has my children,” she argued as she stood where she was, feet slightly spread.
“I must follow the orders of the commander without question,” he replied and his voice held no hint at remorse.
“Without question?” she asked holding her ground.
He nodded and she bolted. Toward the open door that had been left open and unguarded. She made it to the corridor only to have his massive body, armor and all slam into her back driving her into the wall. She felt the leather strip around her neck, pulling tight, cutting off her air even before his body settled fully on hers. When he rose off her he took the leather from her neck and she drew in great gulps of air. Raising her hands to touch the flesh there fury engulfed her to find her hands already bound by the manacles.
“No!” she screamed at him shaking her hands. “You cannot do this to me. Damn you to hell! You and your brother both. No!” She wailed as she backed away, her fury unbound.
Her heart lodged in her throat when his iron grip yanked her to her feet and a dagger blade was pressed to her neck, the tip drawing blood. “Rebels are hung or burned, their children left as orphans subject to the crown.”
Tears stung her eyes knowing this was the way her life would be. There was no battle left that she would be able to win. Outwardly she appeared calm but inwardly she seethed all the more. Cyrille pushed her none to gently forward making her trip over the long gown and the chains binding her. Entering the courtyard she was pushed through the crowd of conquered and they had the nerve to jeer at her and poke at her as if their lot was any better. She realized it was for their castle would be burned but they would be allowed to stay and rebuild their lives. The tears threatened again when one man called her a whore. She was no whore, she had been faithful to her husband, gave him children despite the fact every touch of his body against her made her want to vomit. The remark caused her to stumble and fall face first onto the cobblestones, her injured hands came out to protect her. The pain made it impossible for her to rise but strong hands lifted her and sat her back on her feet.
She looked into the eyes of Damien, his body clad in his armor looking every bit the destroyer he was. She stood before him, Cyrille at her back and the prisoners behind him. Behind Damien stood his soldiers as they waited for his orders.
Angry gray-green eyes left hers and settled on h
er neck, he cocked his head to the side. She grew even more furious to discover she knew him well enough to know he was thinking of how to react to her obvious rebelliousness to his brother. His gauntleted hand came up to touch the tender spot around her neck where Cyrille’s leather had bitten into it. She winced and even through his helm she could see his scowl.
He straightened and fear snaked through her from her head all the way to her toes, she was frozen with it as she stared up at his hulking figure. He reached for his cloak and unclasping it threw it around her shoulders. For the briefest of moments she thought he was being kind until both his hands flew to the neckline of her dress and with a mighty yank ripped it from her. The shock of it left Keri staring up at him, her mouth agape in astonishment. She only came out of her stupor when he reached down and pulled the cloak securely around her. With all the force she had in her body she raised her balled fist and punched him in the jaw. The blow made a flat hollow sound, pain vibrated up her arm as if she had just punched a stone wall. What was worse his head did not budge an inch and she felt his demon eyes snap with fury. He reached out, seized her by her shoulders and lifted her off the ground to suspend before him.
She tried to brace herself on his chest but his arms out extended hers as he held her above him, but her legs could reach him. Her next tactic was to kick him, which she did, the toes of her bare foot landed against his armored chest and she felt as if each one of her toes had been broken. For her efforts he shook her and a low growl escaped his lips.
“You are property of the crown,” his voice said in a demand as if that alone would make her stop struggling. Then it occurred to her it could be an attempt for him to remember not to kill her. The silence of the courtyard was deafening and she knew every eye there watched them. He studied her for a moment then opened his large hands and dropped her. She landed with a jolt that dropped her to her knees, banging one on a wayward rock.
He turned and yanked the chains from Cyrille who had forgotten he still held the end of them. Damien was nearly dragging her before she was able to gain her feet. It was several paces later, her face turning scarlet for everyone would have gotten a good look at her body as she had flailed about in the cloak.
Reaching his horse he turned back to her, the heat of his gaze trailed over her as she struggled to finish pulling the cloak securely around her. He yanked her against him, his armor dug into her skin as he gripped her to him. “Do I burn you here Rebel?” he asked his voice pitched low.
“Do it or not but you will not break me,” she swore between clinched teeth.
He looked down on her, studying her defiance before the corner of his lip twisted upward and he replied, “We shall see.”
His gauntlets cut into her skin when he seized her around her hips and sat her with a jolt onto his horse before vaulting in the saddle behind her. Settling her into his lap he never looked down at her to discover what part of her body his gloved hands touched. His arms came around her to take up the reins as she tugged on the cloak to cover herself all the while cursing the man who was her enemy but whose touch and very presence sent jolts of lightning through her that frightened her.
“To Haltwhistle,” he called to his men. Keri looked up at him and she felt a flash of something in his gaze that softened before it was gone and he was the indomitable fortress of a man once again.
After leaving the castle walls and pulling ahead of his men he turned to watch the blaze. From her position she could turn her head and watch too but the morning left her stiff so she settled back against Damien and watched his face. She could see nothing of what he was thinking under his helm as he sat still and straight like a proud conqueror. How she hated this man, she thought glaring up at him. As soon as the thought clamored in her mind his eyes fell on her. They studied her face, ran down the length of her, taking his time as they lingered on her breasts, her legs as they draped across his. Though the cloak covered her he already knew what she looked like underneath and in his gaze as it travelled over her she knew he was seeing it again. When they came back to her face they held a hard look and she felt her stomach flop when the horse moved under them, his thigh muscles tensed and his pelvis moved against her bottom, his arm barely brushed her breasts as he steadied the animal. Every inch of her body had come alive and could feel every inch of the man’s armor pressed into her, every ounce of his being surrounding her. He turned the horse again and spurred him away to the next keep and she knew without a doubt this man would be victor there too.
The ride was long and torturous, the cloak providing little barrier between her naked flesh and Damien’s armor. It was dusk when they arrived outside the walls of Haltwhistle. The gates were shut solid but the crumbling walls did not look as if they could stand another attack. It was a place that appeared as if it had seen many.
Damien’s arm came around her waist and slid her to the ground in front of him when he dismounted. Her knees buckled but this man of steel never showing a sign of fatigue held onto her. His arm disappeared underneath the cloak, her body only exposed to him as he held her there, his men arrived and began setting up camp. She thought he looked at her but when she raised her head it was to Haltwhistle he gazed.
“Do you think it will be a difficult one?” Cyrille asked from Damien’s side.
She felt Damien’s chest rise against her as he inhaled. He was apprehensive, she could feel it and for some strange reason she felt empathy for him. It made her feel like a traitor to herself.
“No,” he lied to his brother. “It will fall as the others have.” Damien spun her around then but used his hand to keep the cloak closed as he moved her to a nearby tree. Before she knew his intent he forced her to the ground and chained her to it.
She wanted to rail at him and protest but she dared not as he dismissed her and walked away. Camp was set up quickly and then the smells of the cook fire reached her, her mouth salivated and her stomach rumbled. Edwin brought her a tray of food, nearly spilling it on her when the light from the fires caught the skin exposed all the way to her navel from the open cloak she could not grip and pull more securely about herself.
“Would you cover me please?” Keri asked hating the plea in her voice and hating even more for the young man to see her like this.
He gulped and bent reaching for the edges of the cloak. He gasped when his tug pulled it farther open for the brief moment before the edges were closed. Quickly the boy left and she was left with a plate of food in her lap she could not eat for her bandaged and shackled hands.
Damien’s angry voice came to her and she turned to see him facing off with Cyrille. Toe to toe their silhouettes were the exact same height in the glow of the fires. Both had massive chests, trunk like arms and the will of bulls.
Cyrille motioned in her direction and Damien threw his hands up. “You can take care of it.”
She had to strain to hear what Cyrille replied but it seemed the gist of it was the scarred man did not want to hurt her again if she tried to escape. Damien called him a coward then stalked toward her. He slammed himself down in front of her and yanked the tray from her lap. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.
She was offered nothing since the evening before so she did as he ordered and had a piece of meat shoved into her mouth, considerably larger than she would place there herself. It seemed forever to get the meat chewed. She barely had enough time to get it swallowed before he shoved a piece of bread in after it. The entire time he fed her she watched the fire light play across his features that shifted from anger to impatience and another emotion that was softer yet she could not identify it as it appeared and was gone quickly among the turmoil of the others.
“Is there more?” she asked when the plate was empty and he stood.
“This is war for us. Be grateful you had what you did.” He began to leave her but her next plea for some privacy to take care of her personal needs made him stop. He slung the platter toward his squire nearly hitting him with it. Angrily he produced the key, pulled her chains
from the tree then yanked her to her feet and dragged her off into the bushes.
He gave her privacy only to the length of her chains and she knew he heard every noise she made from urinating to emptying her bowels and the wiping. Her cheeks red with embarrassment he dragged her back to the tree and chained her to it again. A makeshift bed had been made for her there and a look around found Cyrille turned in her direction. Everyone about the camp still had their full armor on except their helmets. The commander’s brother had removed his but the hood remained on and she wondered how many people had seen the full extent of the sacrifice he had made for his King’s secrets and his brother’s life.
Keri’s sleep was fitful that night. Each time she awoke it was to find Damien’s silhouette against the backdrop of the castle as he watched it and she was sure he planned his attack for the next morning. Had he watched her castle so intently? When she walked the parapets the evening before the attack had he seen her? Did he know then that he would chain her to him and make her bend to his will?
Before the first rays of the sun broke through the clouds she was sitting before Damien again, the cloak draped around her, the horse shifting anxiously beneath them both. The army stood in the tree line waiting, horses champing at their bits, shifting uneasily. Damien’s eyes constantly scanned the walls. His heels moved against his horse and even the littlest of noises ceased and only the clopping of his horse’s hooves through the leaves could be heard as he moved back and forth in front of his troops.
“Our journey draws to an end,” his voice came out in subdued tones. “Stand together, fight together, and we shall enjoy our victory together.”
The horse beneath her half reared slamming her against Damien’s chest. “Haltwhistle is the King’s,” he yelled and the army lunged forward as one behind she and Damien. As they charged from the woods flames showed atop the walls and then were unleashed and the flaming arrows rained down around them. Keri need not worry for no one could hurt Damien. He was a force to reckon with alone. No arrow, no sword could take him down. They rode all the way to the wall, the people inside had been preparing all night for the attack it would seem for even before the first light streaked the sky they were well armed and ready. It would do them no good. It did Alec and her men no good.