by K. A. M'Lady
“Aye, milord,” Rosalynn replied, her voice low but with restrained disagreement. She turned grudgingly to do his bidding, mumbling about stupid men.
Damon left the hall with Rosalynn’s grumbles ringing in his ears. He would not think of it now and told himself that he would have another conversation with Rosalynn later. He was exhausted, angry and wanted nothing more than a bath and a week’s worth of sleep. He could not have one, but would definitely have the other. Reaching the top of the stairs, he bellowed, “Smedely.”
Smedely appeared silently at his side.
Damon vaguely wondered where he had come from appearing so quickly as though a ghost. “I want a hot bath. Now,” he growled.
“All has been prepared for your return, milord. It but awaits you in your room.”
Damon nodded to the servant, striding down the hall without as much as a thank you.
“Ungrateful cur,” Smedely mumbled as he strode down the stairs.
In the predawn haze, a silent shadow waited in the inner bailey, hiding in the darkness by the side door to the outer castle wall; a passage to the rocks below and a path that led to the sea.
Like a vulture circling, waiting the moment of demise, the creature waited for his quarry to depart the castle. “My time is not my own,” he said, his voice rough, eerie like a storm rising on a tumultuous sea. “What has kept you?” he questioned, darkness pooling around him like an evil cape.
“Other duties,” his companion replied as he strode forward and blended into the darkness.
“‘Tis time we make a bolder move. The dragon is beginning to weaken in his anger. We’ll strike next where he least expects it. Tell me of this girl whom he has brought back with him?”
“She now resides in the dungeon.”
“Hmmm…” he responded, rubbing his chin deep in thought.
“I have heard she is a prize, hair of flame and eyes of emerald, with skin so creamy a man cannot resist the yearning of touching it. Mayhap she can be used further.”
“Where have you heard such rumors?” he replied.
“It appears your guards have loose tongues. Besides, you would be surprised what is said over ale and dice,” he sneered.
“At any rate, it matters not. Now is the time to shift into our next course of action. And when that dragon bastard comes to his senses and his needs overtake his anger, that is when we will strike.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Damon slammed his door behind him, shedding his clothes as he went. There was steam rising off the large tub that had been prepared and left for him in the middle of the room. A fire blazed in his hearth and food was left at his table. He toed off his boots and stripped from his braise before sinking into the gloriously hot water. Sitting back, he leaned his head against the edge, closing his eyes as weariness caught up with him. The tub was not quite long enough to stretch out his long limbs, but the water felt so good that it mattered not.
He sat for some time, pondering this recent turn of events. Going back over from start to finish, he tried to make sense of Gabriella’s arrival. It was strange, a lone woman in a field with no horse markings, no wagon markings and no sign that any others had been there with her at any time. And yet he questioned his first sight of her. She’d had blood trailing down her face.
Damon knew Richard had not struck her or injured her in any way. He pondered how she became wounded, and who had been responsible for her wound. And he considered the fact that she still persisted in giving him no answers.
Then there was also the fact that she had been injured again during one of their stops. He still wondered if she had planned that final stop, too. Was the injury she received then planned as well? But how can an injury such as that, as terrible as it was, be planned? Had her conspirators decided to relieve themselves of her assistance? Was she but a pawn now in their game of rebellion? Damon ground his teeth with questions.
Sinking beneath the water, he rubbed his hands over his face. Was he seeing dangers where there were none? Was his inquiry with this woman keeping him from seeing the real dangers, the truth behind it all? There was but one way to find out.
He washed quickly and rinsed the soap from his tussled hair. Grabbing a large drying cloth, he climbed from the tub. He wrapped the cloth around him, shoved his feet into his boots and strode from his room.
* * * * * *
Gabriella sat on the dank floor as the stench of filth permeated around her. She was afraid to move, as she didn’t know what kind of disgusting things she would encounter. She sat on the floor and cried as if her world had ended. Again. She had no idea how the hell she was going to get out of this. Her father was not here to help bail her out of the chaos that seemed to now be her life.
There was no one to save her, she realized. Even if there was, what would she do then? Steal a horse? Escape the castle? Where would she hide? Where would she even go? She knew for certain that if on the rare chance that she could escape, Damon would most certainly hunt her down.
Feeling destitute, alone and overwhelmed, she sat on the floor of the dark cell, arms wrapped around her legs and cried. If Damon decided to leave her in this cell and forget about her, no one would care. With a sniff, she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut out the insane world her life had become.
She was angry. Angry at Damon for putting her in this godforsaken cesspool. Angry at her parents for dying. Angry at herself for losing control of her life and her faith in herself. And the anger only made her sob longer. Her groan of despair echoed through the small cell. She rubbed her palms against her eyes to try to blot her tears, knowing that she only smeared more dirt across her face. This only made her cry more for the easy life she seemed to have left behind in her own time.
It seemed like hours before she finally quit crying. She was exhausted, annoyed and disgusted with herself and with Damon and his single mindedness that this was somehow all her fault. With a small amount of fire still churning in her blood, she stood up and stalked to the cell door, pounding on it.
“Damon, you ignorant, egotistical bastard. Let me out of this damn cage. Do you hear me? Let me out of here!” She yelled and pounded until her throat burned and her fists hurt. She could hear her jailer rise, knocking his chair over as the jangle of keys rang out down the hall.
“Cease yer bellowing, ya harpy,” he exclaimed, looming before the door. Placing the key in the lock and turning it, he swung the door open.
The stench of body odor wafted past Gabriella, causing her to take a step back. “I demand to see Damon this instant,” she stated.
The guardsman swung his meaty arm out and backhanded her.
Gabriella lay sprawled on the floor. Clutching her hand to her cheek, she thought her eye was sure to be bulging from her socket. “Jesus, you idiot, you didn’t have to freakin’ hit me,” she yelled at the guard.
Damon’s voice roared through the small room of the cell. “Gavin. Leave be,” he ordered, addressing the jailer with a growl of agitation.
The filthy man grunted in response, moving past Damon and out the door of the cell.
Gabriella lay on the ground in silent wonder, her heart pounding within her chest. Damon stood before the door with nothing on but a towel to cover the lower portion of his body and his boots. The hard planes of his chiseled upper chest gleamed in the light of a sconce outside the cell.
His hair was still damp from his bath, and she could smell the scent of sandalwood that clung to his wet skin. His arms were huge, and his thighs were perfectly sculpted. Gabriella’s mouth turned to dust.
Damon watched her for a moment. Reaching out a hand to her, he stated, “Come.”
Gabriella didn’t have to be told again. She would have done just about anything to get out of that cell. Damon’s long strides all but dragged her again through the hall of the keep and up the stairs. Passing a servant, he ordered more hot water and food be brought.
What is he up to? Gabriella wondered as she followed him down the hall, taking two st
eps for his every one. She thought that he would take her back to the room she had originally been in, but instead of opening the door on the right, he opened the one on the left and dragged her inside, slamming it shut behind them.
She stood just inside the door.
Damon walked to the table and poured two cups of wine, taking a long draught from one. Her throat had gone dry and she was mesmerized by the sight of him, partially covered and standing before the fire.
He turned then, and stared into her eyes. She swore her legs couldn’t possibly hold her. “Come here, Gabriella,” he told her, his voice firm, his eyes a glimmer of silver.
She wanted to stand her ground. To defy him. But to what end? He’ll just cross the room and force me to do as he says. Damn him! Medieval England sucks! Medieval barbarians suck! This whole situation sucks! And to think, I wanted to learn about this…
Resolutely, Gabriella crossed the room, stopping in front of him. He placed the cup of wine in her hand and told her to drink. She thought of telling him no, that she wasn’t thirsty, but as she stood there looking into the dark depths of his silver eyes, she knew it was pointless to fight him on something so small. Besides, she was thirsty.
She was also dirty, and her cheek hurt from where her guard had smacked her. Really, how much worse could things get? Don’t ask a question you don’t want to know, Gab, she thought.
As she drank from the cup, servants brought in additional buckets of hot water, setting them by the tub. Without a word, they turned and left the room. Damon crossed the short distance and turned the lock in the door. Gabriella’s heart began to hammer with the click of the lock. Damon casually walked back across the room, like a tiger circling, and took her wine from her, placing it on the table.
“Strip,” he ordered.
“Pardon me?” Gabriella questioned. She frowned, her eyes glaring daggers at him.
“I said, undress. The stench of the dungeon clings to you, and I will not look upon you covered in grime. Now, undress.” He narrowed his eyes.
“If I stink, it’s your own fault. If you recall, you’re the one who threw me in that damn hole,” she threw back, her anger slipping her control.
“You will do as I say, Gabriella, or I will do it for you. Now strip and get in that tub,” he ordered, pointing to the sleek tub that sat in the middle of the room. His voice echoed through the room and his muscles bunched in his arms
Gabriella hesitated. She was angry and scared all at the same time. He was like some caged ferocious animal stalking her. Tempting her. She stood motionless, watching him, afraid to make a move.
Without ceremony, Damon crossed the room to her and tore away the already shredded dress and the thin shift beneath it, tossing them both to the floor. She stood completely naked before him, her mouth hanging open in shock.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Get in the tub,” he said, his voice rough, demanding. Damon stared, unable to tear his gaze away from her flawless beauty. He could not stop his own body growing hard at the sight of her. He continued his slow perusal, following the path down to the fiery thatch of her womanhood before traveling the length of her long, trim legs.
Slowly he followed the return path backward to bring his head up to meet her eyes. His jaw ticked and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching out and taking her. The strong urge of the warrior to take, claim and bury himself deep inside her body burned through his blood.
Gabriella’s heart raced. No one had ever looked at her with such blatant hunger. God! What is he doing to me? My blood burns for this man. I’ve lost my sanity. How can I want this man so badly? This is madness! She shook with wonder, fear and need, all a turmoil boiling beneath her flesh, heating her blood. Meeting his eyes, she licked her suddenly dry lips.
Damon almost lost his mind. “Get in the tub,” he whispered hoarsely. His body was tense with want of her. His fists clenched to keep from grabbing her.
She stood stunned in front of him like a deer trapped in the lights of a car—or the line of an arrow. Unable to move, her breath was caught in her lungs, keeping her frozen, motionless. It thundered in her head, ran rapid through her body like a blazing inferno. Her breath caught in her lungs as she stood stiff before him, afraid to move, but afraid not to turn and run screaming from him. Remembering she needed to breathe, she took in a deep breath.
Now!” he yelled, watching the rise and fall of her breasts.
Gabriella jumped as his voice thundered through the room. Mortified, she quickly climbed into the tub and sank beneath the tepid water. It only reached below her breasts, making them appear to be floating. She could hear Damon’s indrawn breath from across the room and she pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them to block them from his view.
“‘Tis a little late for modesty, milady,” he said harshly. “I have seen all that you have to offer and have tasted your samples. There is naught that you can keep from me.”
“You’re a pig,” she stated. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
Damon glared at her. His jaw ticked with his anger at her nasty words. But he had a plan to accomplish and her annoyance with him would not keep him from it.
Despite her anger, she could still feel his lips on hers. Remember the touch of his hands on her body. She found herself wanting more.
Damon pulled a small stool to the tub and sat down behind her. He reached over her shoulder and handed her soap and a cloth. “Wash. Or you shall see how much of a pig I am.”
Gabriella took the soap and cloth from his hand, splashing water over the edge of the tub. “Ridiculous, demented man,” she groaned, scrubbing as much of herself as she could without moving too much, trying to keep him from getting any more of a view than he already had.
“You’ve missed several important places, milady,” he whispered behind her ear.
Every hair on Gabriella’s neck stood on end.
“‘Tis of no matter. Give me the soap, and I will do it.” He snatched it out of her hand before she could protest.
Gabriella glanced over her shoulder. She knew it was a mistake as soon as her eyes found his. Dark and moody swirling silver gleamed back at her. His dark hair had dried to lustrous waves at his shoulders. He smiled a small grin and her heart stopped completely. Before she knew what he was going to do, he twined his hand in her hair, pulled her head back slightly and stole her breath from her lips.
He ravaged her mouth, slanting his lips across hers. Tasting each line, nipping and caressing with each stroke. Gabriella swore she was about to die when he slid his tongue inside the wet heat of her mouth. The dance he performed was precise, meant to entice her, lure her, and seduce her to his demands. She could not stop kissing him no matter how much her brain screamed that she should. Her body had betrayed her, and she was lost to his touch.
I’ve completely lost my mind, she thought, as she sank deeper into his touch. What has this man done to me that I can’t tell him no? That I can’t stop this desire that he draws from my soul? What the hell am I doing? She had no answers, only need as she wound her arm around his neck and held onto him like a lifeline.
She tastes like the sweetest of nectar, Damon thought. Her soft, lush lips begged him to continue. He took command of the kiss and thought he’d lost his mind. She laid back in his arms, completely trusting him to hold her up, her breasts raised to his view. He planned to seduce the truth from her lips. Take it from her body. Bind her to him and take all the secrets that she possessed. But as the kiss deepened, he didn’t know who was seducing whom.
Gabriella moaned when he tore his mouth from hers. Traitor! Traitor! she railed at herself for the weakness he stirred within her. Her breath heaved in her lungs as she looked back at him. Her head still cradled in the palm of his hand. Slowly he unwound her hair from his hand, pushing her back to a sitting position in the small tub. Unsure of his next move, Gabriella watched him cautiously.
Without a word, he grabbed a bucket of water that was sitting near the tub and poured i
t over her head.
Sputtering, she wiped the water from her eyes and jerked upward out of the tub. “What the hell!” she exclaimed, water sluicing down her body. “Are you demented?” she asked, completely annoyed at his sudden change in behavior.
“Sit down,” he ordered, jerking her back into the tub. “If you do not sit still, milady, I will not be responsible for the outcome.” There was a dark edge to his voice.
His hand gripped her wrist tighter until she sat back down in the tub. Damon then took the soap and washed her hair from scalp to end. Taking another of the buckets, he rinsed the soap from her hair, careful this time not to dump it all over her.
“Now,” he whispered against her neck. “Let us see to all the other areas.”
Every hair on Gabriella’s neck stood on end. Her breasts rose and her nipples peaked at the thought of him touching her body. Damon moved the hair at her neck and licked a line of fire down to her collarbone. Taking the soap, he made a display of lathering his hands.
“Place your hands on the edge of the tub and do not move them.” The order was gruff as it was whispered against the nape of her neck
Her fever of need ran so high she did what she was told. He had taken over her senses as need tore through her body. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was at his mercy. If she would live or die in this place, only he would decide. And she knew that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Oh, she could deny it all she wanted, but it all came back to need. His. And hers. She swore then and there that she would take this one moment for herself. This one moment to be needed by someone. By him.
She moved her hands to the edge of the tub and Damon wound his arms underneath, taking her beasts in his hands. At his first touch, Gabriella knew she was lost.
Damon took the swell of her into his hands and was entranced by the soft, full beauty. He ran his hands over the peaks, causing them to tighten even more.
Gabriella leaned back into him, resting her head against the hard plane of his chest. Damon closed his eyes and allowed his hands the freedom to move over her silky mounds. His hands moved down the line of her trim waist, running along the bottom edge of her ribs. Spanning its width, he took hold of her and pulled her back into his lap, half in, half out of the tub. He slid his hand down the creaminess of her thigh, spreading her legs to his touch. Stealing her gasp with his kiss.
