Angel's Assassin Read online

  “Are you all right?” Lord Gabriel asked.

  She smiled, trying to ease her father’s concern. “Aye,” she replied.

  His brow wrinkled in sympathy. “You don’t always have to be so strong, Aurora,” he whispered. “I know how terrified you must have been.”

  At the mention of the attack, her shield of perfection slipped for a moment and her smile wavered. Her gaze dipped to the floor. She didn’t want to think about it. The stirrings of fear lurked in the dark corners of her mind, threatening to spread across all of her thoughts.

  He leaned closer to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There must be some mistake,” he said quietly. “Are you certain this killer was after you?”

  Aurora nodded. “He was coming straight at me, Father.” She was quiet for a moment. “His eyes… they were so full of… hate…”

  Lord Gabriel shook his head, still full of disbelief. “Everyone is fond of you.”

  “Apparently not everyone.” The weight of failure settled on Aurora’s shoulders. For the last seven years she tried to repent for her mother’s sins, atoning for her mother’s cruelty with acts of kindness. When she was a young child, her mother often brought her along into town. Her mother’s treatment of the villagers, besides being condescending, had been ugly and cruel. Aurora recalled a stay in the stocks for a villager who simply got in her mother’s way. Once, her mother had a young boy whipped for accidentally bumping into her. She knew to this day he still bore the scars of her mother’s vicious attack. The villagers hated her mother. And it was a hatred that apparently still festered in some of them.

  Aurora tried to behave exactly opposite of the way her mother had acted. She went out of her way to help the villagers. Where her mother had sown contempt, she tried to sow respect and compassion. Where her mother’s tone had been sharp and biting, her words were soft and pleasing. It had taken a very long time to gain her people’s trust. Could it be she hadn’t quite gained all of their trust? Did someone still hate her because she was her mother’s daughter? Or was it something more personal? She couldn’t please them all, all of the time. She knew some of the judgments she had rendered in the past had made some villagers unhappy. She had tried so hard to make the right decisions, so hard to do the right thing. She lifted her gaze to her father. “I’m sorry, Father.”

  “Sorry,” he asked, his heavy brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

  She shook her head, looking down at her tightly folded hands. “If I had tried harder… If I had made better decisions –”

  “Enough. This is not your fault. You’ve done more for the people of Acquitaine than anyone. They look to you for everything. They love you.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “That is one of the few things I am sure of. They tell me of their love for you every chance they get.”

  Aurora looked away, bowing her head, uncertain of her father’s declaration.

  Her father cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. His look was grave for a moment. “There are many reasons someone might try to harm you. It could be that someone is angry with me and wants to hurt me by hurting you. Or it could be that someone was harmed by your mother and is seeking revenge against you for my inability to stop her cruelty while she was alive. But I refuse to believe that anyone in this village has ill feelings towards you for how you have treated them.”

  Aurora smiled softly up at him.

  “Don’t worry, Aurora.” Her father squeezed her shoulder tightly. “You are safe here in the castle. And when you leave the safety of these walls, I will have Sir Rupert accompany you.”

  Aurora stared at him for a long moment until the deeper realization of what his words meant dawned on her. “A bodyguard.” That could only mean her father felt she was still in grave danger. Even though the thought of a man protecting her should have allayed her fears, it only served to heighten her apprehension.

  “Aye, if you will,” Gabriel answered. “Until we find out who sent this assassin, you will take Sir Rupert wherever you go.”

  Aurora looked away from her father, trying to hide the doubt in her heart. Rupert had done his best to defend her, as had Captain Trane, but it was Damien who had saved her. She knew Rupert and Captain Trane would be ever more vigilant now, but even so, she felt uneasy with Rupert as her bodyguard. He had not stopped that assassin from nearly stabbing her. Rupert was not Damien.

  Instinctively, she scanned the Great Hall for her savior. She spotted him just as he slipped out of the room. “Excuse me, Father,” she said and hurried after Damien. She peered around the doorway to find him strolling toward the outer door.

  “Leaving so soon?” she called.

  Damien stopped, straightening.

  She walked toward him. “You have not received your reward.”

  He did not look at her, his gaze stoically on the door. “I don’t belong here.”

  She heard the longing in his voice and her heart twisted. “You are here as my guest,” she answered. “You are welcome in Castle Acquitaine for as long as you’d like to stay.”

  He looked at her with a harsh, dangerous look.

  She should have felt apprehension. Instead, compassion welled up in her. Had others made him feel so unwelcome that he had difficulty in accepting a true offer of kindness? “It is all right, Damien,” she said softly, soothingly. But when that did not appease him, she added, “Surely a man of your caliber is not afraid to be here.”

  The harsh look faded from his brow. A smile touched his lips. “No,” he answered. “I am not afraid to be here, m’lady.”

  “Then you will stay?”

  His gaze swept her face and tingles peppered her arms. “For now,” he agreed.

  Aurora nodded in acceptance. He was a private man, shrouded in mystery, but there was something intangible about him she liked. His confidence. The strength of the self assurance she saw him display in the town square, perhaps. Beyond that, he seemed to need friendship. She turned and together they walked down the hallway, passing servants and knights. “Where do you hail from?”

  “I’ve been to many places,” he said. “But I come from nowhere.”

  “Nowhere?” she repeated. “Come now, Damien. Surely, you have come from somewhere. We have all come from somewhere.”

  Damien shrugged.

  Curious. Her gaze moved over him, studying him. Even hidden beneath his black tunic, she could see the outline of his strong arm muscles as he moved. She had seen first hand his skill with a sword. Yet he had no spurs on his boots, so he was not a knight. “You’re very good with a sword.”

  Damien did not acknowledge her comment.

  Aurora dipped her head in greeting at a passing knight. “What brings you to Acquitaine?” she inquired of Damien.

  Damien stared straight ahead. “I have a mission to complete.”

  “A mission? Is there anything I can do to help you finish your mission?”

  He stopped and slowly turned to her. The darkness was back, dancing threateningly in his eyes. His lip curled slightly. “No.”

  “You need but ask,” she said softly.

  “As repayment for saving you?”

  “No,” she said instantly. “As a favor to a friend.” She met his dark stare for a moment before starting forward.

  Damien stopped her with a stony grip on her wrist. “I am not your friend.”

  Aurora studied his face. His jaw was hard, as if carved from granite. His eyes burned with determination. An ominous determination. There was something else behind his hard stare. She could not name it, but it felt as if he was trying to warn her about something. “But you could be,” she responded.

  Confusion marred his brow for a moment and then he released her.

  Aurora continued down the hallway, absently rubbing the ghostly feel of his fingers on her wrist. “Have you just arrived in Acquitaine?” she asking, glancing back at him.

  “Are you always this trusting of strange men?” he asked,
joining her.

  “You saved my life,” she answered simply.

  His gaze narrowed slightly before he looked away, following the path of a knight who had just moved down a side hall. “I arrived two days ago,” he said.

  “Have you been staying at the Boar’s Inn?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “I will have your things brought to the castle.”

  “There’s no need for that.”

  She hesitated, blinking in confusion.

  “I won’t be staying long,” Damien added.

  “You are welcome here for as long as you like.” A momentary panic gripped her. She didn’t want him to leave. “The rooms are large,” she encouraged, “and well heated. You will be neither cold nor –”

  “Large rooms and warmth hold no appeal for me.”

  “Will you stay?” she asked. There was more pleading in her tone than she intended, but she felt safe with him nearby and she didn’t want that feeling to fade.

  “I don’t think –” Damien began, shaking his head.

  “Just until my father can find a permanent bodyguard for me.”

  Surprise lit Damien’s eyes, then smoldered into a dark fire. He nodded and looked around. “Where are your guards now?”

  Aurora scowled slightly. A servant bowed slightly as she passed. “I am in my castle.”

  “There are men who would kill you. And those men could be in your castle now as we speak. You should never be alone.”

  Aurora was astonished. “Surely they would not dare to come into my home.”

  Damien’s shadowed eyes grew even darker. “Someone wants you dead, Aurora.” He purposely used her familiar name to shock her into understanding, and it rolled eloquently off of his tongue. “I don’t think that a code of chivalry will stand in their way.”

  She considered his words as a shiver snaked through her body.

  “Trust no one,” Damien warned. “No one.”

  ***

  Gabriel held the sealed letter in his hands, staring into the hearth in his solar, gazing into the glowing fireplace. Flames snapped like whips over the burning logs. An assassin had attacked Aurora. It was deplorable. It was unthinkable. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers over the letter.

  Captain Trane entered the solar and bowed. “My lord, you called for me?”

  Lord Gabriel did not turn; his long fingers curled over the letter. “This assassin who attacked my daughter. Tell me who he was.”

  “I know not, m’lord,” Trane answered.

  “Have you seen him in the village before?”

  “No, but that means little since Lady Aurora has encouraged all sorts of merchants and freemen to come to trade in Acquitaine with her generous incentives. She has increased the number of goods sold in the city twofold in two years.”

  Gabriel held up a hand, waving him off. “I am aware of the benefits Aurora has reaped on Acquitaine.” Gabriel slowly turned to face his captain. “Was this assassin a peasant or knight?”

  “He was garbed as a peasant.”

  Gabriel rubbed a trembling hand across his beard. He knew. There could only be one person responsible for this horror. He looked down at the letter in his hand. He would not lose his daughter. He would not lose the only one in the world who brought him joy. Could he condemn her to a life of misery? He squeezed the letter tightly. Better to live a life of misery than to fill a cold grave. “I want you to take this letter.”

  “Aye, m’lord,” Trane nodded.

  Gabriel took a deep breath. He held out the letter to him.

  Trane’s hand closed around the missive.

  For a moment, Gabriel could not release it. He stared at it, wishing there was another way, praying for another means to resolve the situation. Finally, he released the letter into Trane’s hand and fell heavily into a chair near the table. “Deliver it to Lord Warin Roke.”

  Chapter Six

  The longer Damien remained in his room, the more trapped he felt. He kicked at the logs on the warm fire. He had learned long ago that dark shadows and anonymity were safest for him, and yet here he sat, his anguish exposed in the bright firelight, all because he had been unable to say no to a woman he was meant to kill. A woman marked for death.

  He rose and moved to the bed, dropping onto the rich, luxurious bed, probably the richest bed he had ever slept in, and put his head in his hands. For a fraction of a moment he let himself imagine walking away from his life of servitude to live in a castle of comfort. Always warm, always clothed with a full belly. It would be easy to walk away from his servitude. But Damien knew Roke would send assassins after him. No one had ever left Roke’s service and lived more than a few days. Damien wanted to be free. Not hunted. Not looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

  No. He would gain his freedom by accomplishing his duty. Aurora’s image came to mind and his anguish diminished. What was it about Aurora? The way she looked at him soothed the constant anger lurking inside him; her smiles eased the troubled turbulence of his emotions. She was like no one he had ever met before. There had to be a reason he was so affected by her. Those large blue eyes filled his mind. They were eyes that had the power to send him floating on a sea of tranquility with the merest glance from them. The soft bow of her lips formed words that calmed him with their peaceful eloquence. The womanly curves of her body were so…

  Damien shot to his feet and left the room, fighting back the flow of blood that threatened to cloud his judgment even further, resolving to depart the castle. His word be damned. He had to get away from her. She was becoming a distraction to him, to his mission. She was too damned beautiful.

  He moved into the hallway and down the stairwell to the first floor, all the while staying in the comfort of the shadows, in the security of obscurity. Suddenly, a scream echoed down the hallway from just around the corner. His muscles tensed, his knees dipped slightly, preparing for a fight. He cautiously peered around the corner.

  Aurora stood in the center of the stone passageway, blindfolded. She wore a glowing smile on her lips as she reached out before her. A group of children circled her, keeping out of reach of her searching fingertips. The children called out to her and scrambled away as she moved toward them.

  It took but a moment for Damien to realize there was no threat. He straightened, his jaw tight with tension, and forced his pounding heart to still. He watched the scene for a moment. The laughter, the playfulness of the game was so foreign to him that he found a certain charm to it. He slowly walked towards them.

  The children’s laughter quieted instantly and they backed away from his approach. Damien frowned. He had just destroyed their joy with a mere glimpse of him. He could never be part of something so innocent. The children recognized him for what he was. Dangerous. As he advanced, a young boy no older than ten years retreated from him. His round brown eyes reminded Damien of another child. A child less fortunate, a child marked for pain and solitude under Roke’s watchful eye. At Castle Roke, the boys came in young, about the age of the boy before him, usually bought from slavery as he had been. They had nothing and no one to interfere with their training. No one to save them. They were usually wracked with hunger, thin as arrows, deep distressed frowns permanently etched on their lips.

  The boy who stood in front of Damien was well fed and happy. His clothing lacked rips or even tattered edges. The boy he remembered from Castle Roke was nothing like this child. His clothing, speckled with stains and tears, had been too large for his malnutritioned body. His eyes were haunted with images of the terrors he experienced. His innocence had been lost. He had never been given the chance to smile or laugh. The boy from Castle Roke had not made it past a week of training. Roke had killed him as an example to the others, an example to Damien, that failure was not tolerated.

  Hands brushed his waist, bringing him back to the present.

  Damien turned to see Aurora standing beside him, a grin curving her lips. Blindfolded, she couldn’t glimpse the e
vil she touched.

  “Hmmm,” she thought, her hands traveling lightly up his stomach to the V in his tunic.

  One of the girls giggled.

  The memories of the past faded completely beneath her gentle touch. Damien was rooted to the spot. Surprise and arousal erupted through him. He felt his manhood stir. He did not break the contact as her fingertips moved up to his shoulders, brushing the ends of his hair.

  “Could it be -- Lady Helen?”

  The children teetered with laughter. A boy called out in disbelief, “No!”

  Aurora’s playful smile grew. It was apparent she knew he was not Lady Helen. Her searching touch moved to his gruff chin. “Is it -- Sir Rupert?”

  “No!” the chorus echoed.

  “No,” Aurora said definitively.

  Damien stood motionless beneath her exploration, his gaze trained on her soft lips. Perfectly bowed and full. It was not the want of this silly child’s game that held him still. It was her. It was the touch of Aurora of Acquitaine. Her fingers were long and slender, bare with the exception of a golden band on her ring finger, etched with a red rose.

  Her touch eased up to his lips and hesitated. Her smile faded and her fingers continued their blind study across his lips. Softly. Delicately.

  He stared at her mouth. No longer smiling, her lips were wet as if she had just licked them.

  He had never been allowed to play games, at least not since he and his younger brother, Gawyn, were very young. But this game… this game he had never played. He studied her lips, her smooth skin. The subtle scent of roses floated to him, sweet and fragrant.

  She lifted up the blindfold. “Damien,” she gasped. Her cheeks blazed with a flash of red.

  A round of cheers erupted as the game ended.

  Aurora smiled and looked at the children as she removed the blindfold from her head. When her gaze came back to him, her smile faltered.

  “More!” one of the smaller boys exclaimed, tugging at her skirt.

  Aurora grinned and laid a hand against the child’s dark hair. She held the blindfold out to Damien. “Would you care to take a turn?”