The Third Son (39 page)

They stood that way in silence for the span of a few seconds, fiery green eyes clashing with fiery green eyes. The wind whipped Damien’s curls wildly about his head. In his mind
,
he saw Lionus dying a painful death as his life’s blood drained from his body. He saw Serge’s battered and broken body lying upstairs, lifeless.
Damien
knew that he had to emerge the victor this night.

Nicolai attacked first, as Damien had known he would. He charged at Damien with his sword raised, bringing it down to meet his with a loud clank that rang out in the quiet of the courtyard. Damien timed his parries perfectly to Nicolai’s thrusts, knowing his brother’s every move. They had sparred together many times, knew the other’s strengths and weaknesses, and were equally matched.

Damien circled Nicolai, reaching out with the edge of his sword and finding his target.
His
blade sliced into the skin of Nicolai’s sword arm. Damien watched in satisfaction as Nicolai’s blood dripped slowly to the cobblestones below, but did not celebrate too long. Nicolai was far too skilled to be bested by a simple cut on his arm, but Damien hoped that in a few moments Nicolai was going to have a hard time holding up his sword.

Nicolai fought like a madman, growing angrier by the second. He aimed for Damien’s neck and torso, while Damien concentrated solely on taking little slices out of his opponent’s limbs. Nicolai’s clothes were nearly in ribbons and blood trickled from several small cuts on his arms and legs. Damien had been deeply cut once on his leg and the wound bled profusely, but he stood strong.

Nicolai was growing sluggish, his movements growing slower and sloppier with each passing moment. Damien could have moved in for the kill at any moment, but was content to drag out his punishment for as long as he wished. He watched Nicolai squirm and writhe in pain before him even as he continued to fight for his life. A carefully executed swipe caught Nicolai across the back and with a cry of agony
and
he fell to his knees.

Damien stood over Nicolai, watching as he fought for breath. Though he knew the moment of his death was upon him, his eyes were still filled with venom and hatred for the man who should have been his brother, but was now his enemy. Damien pressed the steel of his blade to Nicolai’s throat.

“For my father and brothers,” he whispered before dealing his final blow. With an expert flick of his wrist and a great deal of strength, Damien sent Nicolai’s head rolling across the courtyard. His body remained in its position on its knees for a moment before it fell sideways beside his head.

Damien turned away, signaling the palace guards. They ran past him with their swords drawn, followed by those who had been waiting in the main hall. As he walked back toward Largess Hall, he heard the clash and clank of sword and armor
. He
knew it would be only a matter of time before Nicolai’s men were brought under their control.

Damien ordered them all kept alive to be beheaded publicly as a message to any others considering plotting against the royal family. Jarvis stood in the open double doors to the main hall. He wordlessly accepted Damien’s sword and handed it off to a footman to be cleaned.
Jarvis
followed
him
towards his chambers where Damien turned to face him. He held out his palms
,
which were stained with his half-brother’s blood.
His
face and neck were splattered with droplets of blood as well.

“I killed him,” he whispered, staring at his hands in disbelief. “I killed my brother.”

He dropped to his knees on the carpet and Jarvis went down on his knees as well, pulling the boy into his arms. Damien sobbed against Jarvis’ shoulder, the force of his sorrow and anger shaking him to the core. Jarvis held him silently until he was finished and then rang for Hopkins, the valet.

“You have avenged your father and brothers,” he said softly, helping the young man rise to his feet. “You did only what was necessary. Lionus wouldn’t have done it differently himself.”

Damien nodded. He knew that Jarvis was right. Though he was proficient with a sword and pistol, he had never before had to kill another living being. Cardenas had been in state of peace his entire life and he had never even seen war. Seeing the blood of another man on his hands had nearly been his undoing.

He took a deep breath and brought his breathing under control. Luckily
,
the commotion had not alerted any of their guests, who were mercifully far enough from the main hall not to have heard. He felt a sense of peace and calm come over him as he realized it was really over. The threat to his family had been removed and now they could live their lives without fear of an attack around every corner.

Once Hopkins arrived, Damien allowed his butler and valet to strip him of his bloodied clothes and help him wash the blood from his hands and face. He soaked in the tub for nearly an hour before the fire, sipping gratefully at the brandy provided thoughtfully by Hopkins.

He supposed that now his life could take on some semblance of normalcy.
Damien
nearly laughed at himself for such a thought. How could anything ever be normal again when his father and brother were dead? How could anything ever be the same when Serge was lying in a bed in a state somewhere between death and life?
T
o top it all off, when all was finally peaceful in his life, he had no one to share it with.

****

Damien couldn’t sleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes he saw Nicolai’s head rolling over the cold stones of the courtyard and a gruesome spray of blood that stained his face and hands. Finally giving up on sleep, Damien went to his library to find a book. Settling on a volume of poetry he hoped would be soothing, Damien carried the leather-bound book back to his chambers where he took up a full decanter of brandy.

He had just settled into an armchair with his book when the connecting door between his room and one of his adjoining sitting rooms was opened. A slender maid in black and white entered the shadowed doorway and stood in front of the closed door in silence.

The girl stepped forward silently and Damien dropped the book absently to the floor and stood. He went to her silently and took her in his arms, crushing her tightly against his chest. He breathed the scent of jasmine, a smell he had never thought to experience again, and closed his eyes. “Thank God you’ve come,” he said, looking down to stare into wide amber eyes.

Esmeralda
still did not speak, but then, she didn’t have to. Damien knew from her expression that she had been informed of the night’s events. She had come to him, knowing how he would be feeling this night. Relieved, because it was all over
a
ngry, because he had unnecessarily lost his brothers in the process. Tormented, because he had to kill someone he’d loved for all of his life.

“I’ve come to say goodbye,” she whispered. “But I did not want anyone to know I was here so I used the servant’s entrance again. I know it is bad of me to come when you’re engaged to someone else but I knew you would need comfort tonight.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, not giving a damn if the entire castle knew she was with him. Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but Damien swiftly covered it with his, scorching her with his heat, causing an unmistakable surge of desire to unfurl in her middle, as it always did when he was near. “Please don’t say anything else,” he pleaded, grasping her waist and sinking against her softness. “We don’t need words to say goodbye.”

Esmeralda nodded in silent agreement and raised her arms to wrap them around his neck. Where his first kiss had been soft and sweet, this one was anything but. His lips clamped over hers with an overwhelming force
. He knew that this would be their last nigh together. Damien intended to make it count.

His lips and hands were everywhere all at once, touching her, moving along the familiar slopes and planes of her body for the last time. They undressed hurriedly, nearly tearing at each other’s garments in the desperation of their final joining. When they were finished
,
they hurled themselves at each other and landed together on the lush rug before the fireplace, tangled in each other’s arms. Damien rolled until he was over her and lifted himself on his elbows to gaze down at her. She stared back at him brazenly as his eyes moved down over her bare skin enhanced by firelight.

When he dipped his head down to taste the dusky peak of one breast her fingers came up to tangle in his hair and she cried out in delight. He moved slowly, reveling in her taste, her smell, her softness. She moved her hands over his muscled shoulders and chest, lifting her head to taste and tease his skin as he did hers. His seduction was slow and precise
, a reminder of all that had been between them and a wish for what could never be.

After what seemed like an eternity, Esmeralda pleaded with him to take her. Tempted as he was to oblige her, Damien held out as long as he could, giving her all he could with his lips and his hands, showing her just how precious she was to him. She writhed and squirmed beneath his him, shuddering at each touch of his lips.
Esmeralda
continued to plead and beg and finally Damien could wait no longer.

Rising up to his knees, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist
. H
e wanted to watch her,
see
the light of the fire play over her golden skin as he loved her. He moved slowly, thrusting upward into her heated core, drawing out the inevitability of their impending climax. He ran his hands through the wild mane of hair tumbling down her back, pulling slightly to expose her neck to his hungry mouth.

Her cries rose to echo from the high ceilings and Damien didn’t care who heard. He increased his pace, watching her face in pure enchantment as she neared the height of her pleasure. He reached down and gripped her hips tightly in his large hands and increased his pace, allowing himself to reach that place with her. They climbed together and soared, clinging to each other as wave after wave of intense rapture washed over them.

Esmeralda collapsed against him, trembling, her head lolling against his shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Damien fell back onto the rug with her, cradling her in his arms. He tried not to think about the fact that they were saying goodbye.
Damien
closed his eyes and pretended that everything was all right, that he and Esmeralda would awaken in the morning and go on as they had been for weeks.
A
s he felt the hot splashes of her tears against his shoulder, he knew that he could not go on deluding himself. Instead, he would throw himself into their final night together.

He lifted her chin with his hand and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Damien
stood and lifted her in his arms. He carried her toward the bed where he laid her down and proceeded to show her once again just how sorely she would be missed.

Another hour later, when he finally collapsed beside her, he was able to find peace in sleep curled up beside her. When he closed his eyes he did not dream of death or blood
,
he saw only her face.

When he awakened in the morning, she was gone
. H
er glittering Topaz ring sparkled on the pillow beside him.

Chapter 23

Today was his wedding day and though Damien had tried his hardest not to dwell on that fact, he could think of little else. Today should have been the happiest day of his life, but instead it was quite possibly the worst. He would be locked forever in marriage to a woman he could barely tolerate.

He rose early that morning, setting out for a ride, knowing he would have little privacy in the hours before the wedding. Already the servants were up and about, preparing Largess Hall for the wedding reception feast. Damien made his way past servants carrying large floral arrangements, polished silver and folded linen napkins and turned in the direction of the stables.

Over the weeks that had passed he had tried fruitlessly to push Esmeralda from his mind. He knew it would be better for him to just forget that she had ever been a part of his life, but he also knew that such a feat was impossible. Perhaps over time the heart could heal, but the mind could not be made to forget.

He found Desmond outside the stables, grooming one of the horses that would be hitched to the carriage carrying Davina to the cathedral for the ceremony. Desmond stopped what he was doing and bowed formally. His face was blank and emotionless, though Damien could detect a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Your Highness,” he said before heading toward the open doors of the stable. “Can I saddle Persephone for you?”

“That would be fine Desmond, but first I would have a word with you.”

Desmond stopped and turned, his annoyance clear. Obviously
,
Desmond knew that Damien was not marrying his sister today. The young man was, apparently, not pleased. “Of course,” he said tightly, his voice strained. Damien reached out and grasped the boy’s shoulder gently. Desmond flinched but made no move to shrug him off.

“I am sorry for the way things have turned out,” he said. Desmond had cast his eyes down toward his scuffed boots and refused to meet his gaze, but Damien pressed on. “You must know how I feel about your sister, but this was her decision.”