Angel's Assassin (21 page)

“He is more respectable than you are,” Aurora
challenged.

Ormand’s jaw clenched tight as his disdainful
glare settled on Damien. “Look at him. The way he hovers over you
is more possession than anything else. Yes, he protects you. For
himself! I would not be surprised to find he is in love with
you!”

“This is unforgivable, Ormand,” Gabriel said
hotly. “You are rambling like a lunatic. I broke the betrothal. The
marriage is off. And now, I want you out of Acquitaine.”

Castle Roke is a dreary place, Captain Trane
thought as he followed a man the size of an oak tree down a hall.
It had taken him an extra day to reach the home of Warin Roke
because his horse had stepped on a stray broken arrow shaft and he
had to get the animal mended before he could continue. Trane
disliked the place as soon as he entered. He studied the gray and
white workings of a tapestry hanging on the wall, depicting a scene
of a naked woman held down by chains and a line of unclothed men
awaiting their turn with her. No windows lined these hallways; only
sparse torches lit the way. Large stone winged beasts guarded the
corridors, warding off all who would enter, friend and foe alike.
The man opened the last door and allowed him entrance. There were
no windows set into the walls, and no light except for a lone torch
against one wall.

The man bowed slightly. “Wait here,” he
instructed and departed the room.

Captain Trane looked around. The darkness of
the room was all encompassing. There could be an army hiding in the
shadows and he would never know it. Or he could be alone. Why make
him wait in the dark like this? Trane glanced over his shoulder.
The hairs at the back of his neck bristled. His stomach tightened
with anxiety. Something was not right.

“Good evening, Captain Trane,” a voice hissed
from the darkness.

Trane turned toward the voice. He had not
heard a door open. His jaw tightened. “I am here to speak with Lord
Warin Roke.”

“Speak,” the voice commanded.

Trane’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he
straightened in regal dignity. “I come as an emissary from Castle
Acquitaine,” Trane said. “I have a note from Lord Gabriel.”

There was a moment of complete silence.
Captain Trane opened his mouth to repeat his statement when he
heard a rustle behind him and whirled. Roke, a mere shadow himself
in his black garb, stood inside the small circle of light thrown by
the lone burning torch.

Trane hated this man. He didn’t trust him.
Still, he handed Roke the missive as was his directive from Lord
Gabriel.

Roke took it in his thin hand and stared at
Trane for a long moment before opening the letter. He read it
without emotion. Slowly, he looked up at Captain Trane. “I will be
visiting Castle Acquitaine at once.”

Trane nodded, but didn’t relish returning
with Roke.

“This way.” Roke led him to the door and
opened it. The torchlight from the hallway shone into the room. Two
men stood guard at the entrance.

“Lord Roke,” Captain Trane called. “Do you
know anyone small of build with brown hair who wields a
dagger?”

“Is Lord Gabriel interested in hiring someone
else?”

“What? No. There has been an attempt on Lady
Aurora’s life.”

“Hmmm,” Roke said. Trane noticed that he
didn’t seem surprised. Perhaps word had already reached him. Roke
shrugged. “That description matches many men.”

Trane frowned at Roke’s casual attitude
toward his lady’s life being in jeopardy. His teeth grit with
impatience. He moved to step past him into the hallway, but paused
as another thought struck him. “Do you know someone named
Damien?”

“Has he done something?” Roke asked.

“No,” Trane answered, looking into Roke’s
black eyes. “On the contrary. He saved Lady Aurora’s life.”

Roke remained stoic. “Yes. I’ve heard. He is
quite the hero.”

“I will not wait!” a voice hollered from down
the hallway.

Trane turned to see a short man marching down
the hallway, storming past a guard. He recognized him as Lord
Hartford, one of Lady Aurora’s rejected suitors. The man had caused
quite a scene upon hearing of his rejection. Trane remembered he
had to escort the man to Acquitaine’s borders after his dismissal.
His dark hair was in disarray, his brows furrowed in displeasure
and anger.

The large man standing guard at the entrance
jerked forward, but Roke raised his hand and the man settled back
into his stance of ease. Roke stepped out into the hallway.

“What the devil, Roke!” Lord Hartford
exploded as he neared. “You told me she would be dead. You told
me!”

“Missions take time,” Roke said
patiently.

“Not this one! Two men. I paid for two men.”
He held up a letter. “I have received word that both are dead.”

“Yes. I received word as well. Disappointing,
really. But very interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

“Interesting?! I paid well for their services
and now they are dead! How is that interesting?”

“They were two of my best men,” Roke
explained. “I, too, have lost valuable assets.”

“I won’t give you the rest of the coin until
it is finished.”

Roke’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
“That wasn’t the deal. You bought two assassins.”

“Assassins?” Trane murmured, scowling.

“And they failed. How is that my fault?”
Hartford exclaimed, holding up the parchment. “It’s yours! You
failed.”

“Actually, I succeeded, as this missive is
testament.” Roke waved the parchment Captain Trane had just given
him, smiling without opening his lips.

“I won’t pay for failure.”

Roke nodded glumly. “I certainly understand
your position. But you must understand I am a man of business. You
paid for assassins. I delivered assassins.”

The large man began to move slowly around
behind Hartford.

“And it would not be good business were I to
lose my assets and my pay,” Roke added.

“I don’t give a damn about your pay, Roke.
The mission is not complete. She is not dead.” He threw the letter
down to the stone floor. “Give me two more assassins.”

Trane’s hand dropped to the pommel of his
sword. Assassins? Her? They couldn’t be speaking about Lady
Aurora!

“You didn’t finish paying for the first two
and now you want more?” Roke asked with false humor. “I think
not.”

“I’ll tell everyone, Roke. I’ll tell them all
exactly what kind of business you run here.”

Roke’s eyes grew darker. “This is not a free
service.” He slightly inclined his head in a barely discernable
gesture. “I think there will be no more deals between us.”

The large man was a blur of speed as he moved
forward, stabbing Lord Hartford in the back.

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to be spilling
my little secret here,” Roke whispered. “So I shall spill your
blood instead.”

Trane involuntarily flinched back as
Hartford’s body arched against the dagger and crumpled to the
floor.

Roke turned to Trane. “I’m terribly sorry for
the interruption, Captain Trane. Truly. But you now have my
undivided attention.”

Shocked by the quick flurry of events and
flood of information, Captain Trane backed into the dark room,
drawing his sword.

“Yes, undivided. You see, my dear Captain
Trane, I cannot let you leave Castle Roke. Ever.”

Captain Trane heard a thunk and a pressure
tightened his chest. He looked down. A dagger protruded from the
middle of his torso. For a long moment, he stared in
bewilderment.

And then another dagger appeared in his
belly. And then another.

A
urora swiped
a weary hand across her forehead. Her shoulders slumped as she sat
on her bed. She glanced at her father who was speaking to Sir
Rupert in the doorway. Stern disapproval etched his wrinkled brow.
Rupert nodded and looked down.

All her father’s work had been for naught. It
had taken months for him to choose an appropriate suitor for her
from the mountains of proposals he had received. Then, months of
negotiating a dowry with Ormand. Only to have to repeat the process
now.

Her father turned and came into her
chambers.

“Father,” Aurora began and boosted herself
off the bed to face him. “All your work…”

Gabriel shook his head. “Ormand was a
deceitful, unworthy man. Certainly unfit to be your husband.”

Aurora nodded, bowing her head.

“You have rings beneath your eyes, child. You
need to rest. Don’t worry. This will all work out.”

Aurora leaned in to place a kiss on his
cheek. She crept a glance toward Damien standing in the corner,
cloaked in the darkness. She knew his lip was still bleeding from
the attack. She moved to the basin on the table and wet the cloth
beside it. She walked to Damien and wordlessly handed him the
cloth. She didn’t look at him; she couldn’t. Every time she did,
her mind replayed the image of his arms around Helen and her heart
shattered. He took the cloth, wiped at his mouth, then set the
cloth down.

“Ahh, yes!” Gabriel exclaimed and snapped his
fingers.

A young boy rushed forward.

Gabriel bent and whispered to the boy.

The child nodded, brushing a lock of brown
hair from his eyes and took off running down the hallway.

Gabriel turned to Damien. “I have something
for you, Damien.”

The boy returned promptly, holding a sheathed
sword in his small hand.

Gabriel took the sheathed weapon and held it
out to Damien.

Damien hesitated a moment before taking the
offered weapon. The leather casing was expertly crafted, etched
with elaborate scrollwork. The tightly wound black leather handle
was simple for such a fancy casing. He grasped the handle
reverently and slowly pulled the sword from the sheath. The
polished metal of the blade glinted from a torch’s fire on the wall
as it came free. He placed the sheath at his feet and lobbed the
sword from hand to hand, testing it.

Lord Gabriel smiled. “It is a fine piece of
workmanship. Amazingly simple, yet very deadly. It is yours.”

Damien looked back at the weapon in
shock.

“It is a very small token of my appreciation
for all that you have done,” Gabriel explained sincerely.

Damien sheathed the weapon. “Many thanks,
Lord Gabriel.”

Damien’s gaze swept Aurora’s beautiful,
flawless face as she slept. She was an angel. And he had hurt her.
She had refused to look at him for long lengths of time and he felt
the emptiness of her withdrawal. The dim lighting gave her an
ethereal glow, making her look somehow dreamlike. Her skin was
unblemished and smooth. Her hair shimmered like gold as it fanned
out over the pillow she slept on. She was so heavenly, so pure. So
damned good.

Damien sighed, shaking his head, and walked
to the window. It was better this way, he told himself. Better for
her not to be a part of his life, not to let his past sins taint
her.

Damien lifted a hand to run through his hair,
unconvinced even in his own mind. The sleeve of his tunic caught on
the pommel of his new sword. He eased it once again from the
sheath. It was a beautiful weapon, reminding him in many aspects of
Aurora. Polished. Beautiful. Stunning.

Rupert’s snores echoed from across the room
where he sat, slumped, in a chair.

Damien ignored him and studied the weapon. He
hefted the sword from hand to hand. The balance was impeccable. The
weight was perfect for him. He slashed at the air, testing it. It
was like an extension of his arm. He liked the way it felt in his
hand.

Damien hacked at an imaginary foe. He swung
the blade through the air and whirled, blocking. He dodged left and
swung. A grin formed on his lips. A precise weapon. He swung
repeatedly, moving, dodging, thrusting. Testing. His own sword had
cost him a month’s wages. And this sword… this sword would only
cost him his soul. Damien grit his teeth at the thought. Still, he
could not help but admire the weapon. It was magnificent. As if it
had always be meant for him.

Suddenly, a tingling at the base of his neck
caused him to turn.

Wide blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

Damien lowered the sword and answered
Aurora’s stare with one of his own. For a long moment he could not
move, consuming her with his gaze. Her beautiful hair was the gold
of treasures, spread out across the pillow like a priceless fan
spun from sacred honey. Her flawless skin was as smooth as the
richest velvet. Her lips were lusciously bowed and slightly parted.
She was the loveliest creature he had ever laid eyes on. And he
wanted her. He wanted to put his hands on her body and make her
writhe with desire. The thought that no other man had ever touched
her, that no man had ever awakened her sensual side, made Aurora
all the more appealing. And all the more forbidden.

The heat of the exercise coursed through his
body, enhancing his craving to full blown lust. He growled low in
his throat and approached the bed.

Damien stared down at her. All thoughts of
freedom and mission vanished beneath her agony-filled eyes. His
chest hurt as he gazed at her. He wanted to shout to the heavens
above that it was not fair he had to make the choice. Failing his
mission or gaining his freedom.

One more day. Only one more.

She turned her head away from him.

He stood over her for a moment longer,
basking in the glow of her goodness. It would not be enough, never
enough. He did not belong there, as much as he wanted it, as much
as he wanted her. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back into the
shadows, where he belonged.

It was late afternoon when Aurora finally
rose. She sat in a chair, her back straight, as Helen combed her
hair. She hated the loneliness settling in her soul at Damien’s
absence, even though she knew he waited a few feet away in the
hallway.