Cherished Protector of Her Heart

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Jennifer began pulling Aurora down the hallway. “We’ll need to put on a more fitting dress to greet a Count.”

  Dumas. Damien remembered the name. Back at Castle Roke, he had been instructed to accommodate the Count and Countess any way he could. No wonder they practically ran here upon hearing of his betrothal. Damien had not wanted a huge wedding; he had wanted to take Aurora to a small chapel and have a small wedding. But Aurora was a lady, the head of Acquitaine now with the death of her father. She wanted, nay, needed to put on a lavish wedding for her people and for all the others who would scoff at their union.

  Let them scoff. Let them wonder if she was with child. Let them all guess at why she would marry below her station. He didn’t give a damn. But he knew her well enough to know she wanted to celebrate her happiness with her people; more than anything, this feast was for them.

  But with Count Dumas and his wife arriving, all of Damien’s fears came rushing forward. His past. It would haunt him forever. What if someone recognized him? He knew the Count and Countess only knew him as working for Roke; they had not known he was an assassin. Their threat would come in emotional turmoil. He wanted to head any misconceived assumptions off before they blew up in his face.

  He knew where Aurora was having the guests stay, in the west wing of the castle. And the Count and Countess would, no doubt, have one of the largest rooms. Plenty of space for the luxury that accompanied them, all the servants, all the playthings. Damien grimaced. His large steps took him through the busy stone hallways. Acquitaine was a place of contentment. Aurora treated her people well. She protected them with trained knights and the lands prospered because the people were shown great respect by their lady.

  Servants passed him, genuflecting and bowing slightly in reverence. It was a different life than the one he had been accustomed to at Castle Roke. Aurora had granted him a title, knighting him in a very private ceremony between just her and him. Damien grinned at the memory. She had been completely naked. Only after she had seduced him into agreeing to be knighted, something he had never wanted, did she reward him with a night of lovemaking. He would do it again, he vowed. That night had been glorious. The next day, the bans had gone out and Damien realized it had all been a plan on her part. Even though the title meant nothing to either of them, it did to her people. It would lend legitimacy to their marriage. Sir Damien weds Lady Aurora. They would always be Aurora and Damien to him.

  He hurried through the hallways and up a set of stairs.

  There was a commotion at the end of the corridor. He recognized Gunther, the steward of Castle Acquitaine, a small elderly man, thin in stature, but elegant and commanding, standing in the doorway of the room.

  As Damien approached, he heard the countess commanding in a severe voice, “Not there, you idiot! Over there. The mirror must face the bed!”

  And he remembered. He remembered how her orders had to be followed without question. She was harsh and condescending to her servants, to all those below her.

  Damien grit his teeth. He placed a hand on Gunther’s shoulder and stepped past him, taking a deep breath for the coming confrontation.

  Countess Margaret Dumas was a statuesque woman. She stood in the middle of the room, hovering over one male servant struggling to move a large mirror etched with metallic scrollwork on the top and sides. “If you break that mirror, I will take it out of your hide.” She wore a blue dress over her thin frame that dipped low between her breasts. Her dark hair was pulled up and a white feather flopped on the top of her head. Her lips were tight with anger.

  The servant picked the mirror up and began to move it. It wobbled in his hands and teetered precariously.

  Damien rushed in and grabbed the mirror just before it tipped too far forward. He helped the poor man guide it to the wall, facing the bed, and eased it to the floor.

  “How dare you interfere --!” Margaret started until Damien straightened and she saw his face. She gasped and her entire countenance changed. She became a siren, a seductress. She jutted her breasts out in a gasp and smoothed her dress over her stomach. “Damien. I just knew it was you.”

  “Welcome Countess Dumas,” Damien greeted.

  “Yes. Yes,” the count hurried forward from the window where he had been gazing with boredom. He was at least twenty years the countess’s elder. His balding head was smattered with gray. He was half a head shorter than her. “Very nice to see you again.” His dark eyes glinted with keen excitement.

  “Welcome Count,” Damien said.

  “Out!” the countess commanded. “All of you.”

  The servants hurried to the door, grateful to escape her abusive commands. She barely waited until they scurried out and closed the door behind them before she began circling Damien, eyeing him appreciatively.

  Damien didn’t move. It reminded him of his time at Castle Roke. His servitude. He was already regretting granting Aurora her wish to have a public wedding ceremony.

  “I told you it was him, Marcus,” she cooed, and reached out to him.

  He grabbed her wrist before her long fingers could touch him. “I am no longer slave to Roke.”

  “Technicalities,” the count said.

  She stepped in close to him. “You are a knight now?”

  Damien released her hand. “Yes,” Damien said stiffly.

  The countess chuckled low in her throat as she slanted him a coy sideways glance. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what your rank is. You still look so delicious.”

  Damien opened his mouth to tell her he had no intentions of becoming her plaything, but Count Marcus added, “And you are to marry Lady Aurora?”

  There was something in his voice that sent every nerve in Damien’s body on alert. He looked at him.

  “Marcus was very excited at your choice for a mate.”

  “She is not my mate. She will be my wife,” Damien said firmly.

  Margaret chuckled even deeper. “Even more delicious.” She leaned in close to Damien, letting her breasts brush against his arm. “She is very lovely. Even by my standards. I approve of your choice.”

  Damien straightened. “You are here to join in the celebration of my marriage to Lady Aurora.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “We are here to celebrate. A union such as yours is… worthy of every intimate detail.”

  Damien grit his teeth. “There will be no intimate details between us. I am to be married and take my vows seriously. Lady Aurora is to be my wife. There will be no other.”

  “Surely you cannot mean it. Imagine the pleasure we can all have! Why Marcus has agreed to actually join us if Lady Aurora participates.”

  Damien’s teeth clenched tight. “She will not participate. I will not participate.”

  Margaret pouted and crossed her arms. “Marcus!” she cried.

  He hurried to her side, stroking her back as one would a pet. “Fear not, my dear. There are ways around all vows.”

  “Not these,” Damien growled. “If you cannot control yourselves at Castle Acquitaine, then you will be asked to leave. Is that clear?”

  Marcus drew himself up, his eyes narrowed. “We can contribute to the growth of Acquitaine. The village is in need of a new water way, is it not?”

  An entire water way? Coin was evidently not a problem for the count. “There is nothing that you can contribute that will sway me or my future wife.” He moved to the doorway. “Our past is just that. Our past.” Damien stalked from the room. These two were going to be trouble.

  Cherished Protector of Her Heart - Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Three

  More guests had arrived. Thankfully, no one Damien knew or recognized from his days at Castle Roke. No one from his past. He gazed out the window over the lands of Acquitaine. In the darkness, it looked like a different land. A land from his nightmares. In the dark, many things looked the same. He could almost hear the distant cries from the tortured souls at Castle Roke.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Aurora lay in the bed, a beam of moonlig
ht falling over her, illuminating her like an angel. She lay on her stomach, one arm bent over her head, the other at her side. She was naked, a blanket pulled over the bottom half of her glorious body. Her golden hair lay in waves of curls around her head and on her back.

  She was the only good thing he had ever known. She had saved him in every possible way. She still did. He thought sometimes he would go mad with memories. And then he would see her, looking at him, sleeping beside him. The memories would fade and all that was left was his love of her. His all-consuming love of her. He was so afraid of losing her, so afraid that one day she would wake up and realize he was not worthy. Or that all of this would be some wonderful dream and he was still chained in the bowels of the dungeon at Castle Roke.

  With every arrival of strangers, the feeling to run grew stronger in him. He wanted desperately to whisk Aurora away and disappear into the darkness that had so sheltered him in the past. But she didn’t belong in the darkness. And he could never take her away from this life, from her people. She belonged here, looked up to by every single one of them. Praised, worshipped, adored.

  He turned away to the window again. It felt like his world was falling apart. With the arrival of his father and then the count and countess. His past was catching up with him. He couldn’t have her. She was too good for a man like him. A man with such darkness inside him.

  Damien clenched his teeth. She loved him. She reminded him every day. And he would not disappoint her. He would not run any more. He was to be lord of Acquitaine. It was what she wanted. And he wanted to be with her. He would face whatever came his way. And he would be ready. But to do so, he had to be strong. He was becoming soft. Roke had reminded him many times that complacency was death.

  It was a mistake he would not make. With a backward glance at Aurora, he dressed and strapped on his sword before he left the room.

  Again, Aurora looked at the door. It had become their routine. Damien would come to her room at night, and spend the evening with her. But before daybreak, he would return to his own room. While she surmised most of the castle folk knew they slept together, she didn’t want it to be obvious. She still needed to set an example for her people.

  Jennifer combed her hair into a braid of restraint. She was silent this morning. She knew who Aurora was waiting for.

  Damien would always return and escort her to break her fast. But he had never been this late.

  “I’m sure he will be here any moment,” Jennifer said in a whisper. “He is probably speaking to Sir Rupert about the men at arms. You know how diligent he is regarding protection.”

  Aurora looked into the mirror. She was done dressing and her hair was finished. There was sadness in her eyes that she could not let her people see. She took a deep breath. She could no longer hold off going to the Great Hall to break her fast. She nodded and rose. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. Had something happened to him? She stepped out into the hallway.

  Rupert bowed slightly. “Good morning, m’lady.”

  “Good morning, Sir Rupert,” she responded. She looked down the hallway, but Damien was not there. She stood for a moment, indecisively. She wanted to go to his room and make sure he had simply over slept. But would he think of her as insecure? Would he think she was trying to be controlling of him?

  “I thought I had erased that scowl of concern.”

  Aurora whirled. Damien strode toward her. Her breath left her in a silent sigh. She looked him over, making sure he was not hurt. His black boots hugged his calves, his black leggings tight over his muscled thighs. He still wore black from head to toe, his tunic form fitting, allowing a hint at the power beneath. His sword was strapped to his waist. His black hair came to the tops of his shoulders. Aurora lifted her chin, resisting the desire to throw her arms around him. “You are late, m’lord.”

  A grin tugged Damien’s lips as he stared down at her as though she were the center of his world. “It will not happen again.”

  “Make sure it does not.” Aurora turned to head down the hallway, allowing Jennifer and Rupert to take the lead. She leaned in toward Damien, her shoulder brushing his arm. Damien glanced at her, his gaze sweeping over her face.

  There was something there. Something that made the scowl return to Aurora’s brow. “Is everything all right?”

  He nodded, but did not meet her gaze.

  Aurora was unconvinced. As they approached the Great Hall, they heard a commotion in the hallway ahead. Shouts came from the corridor. A woman servant rounded the corner and came to a sliding halt. “Sir Rupert!” Her eyes were wide. She looked at Aurora. “Two knights are fighting in the castle.”

  Rupert rushed forward, following the servant girl. Jennifer ran after them. Aurora moved to go, too, but Damien grabbed her arm. “Wait here.”

  She opened her mouth to object.

  “Rupert can handle this.”

  “These are my people.”

  “Not just your people. Not anymore. There are guests arriving, strangers –”

  “Damien!” she insisted. She took his hand in hers. “This is my castle. Our castle. Fighting inside is not allowed. The people are looking to us now to see how we will rule.”

  Damien grit his teeth.

  “This cannot be allowed.”

  He cursed beneath his breath and released her hand, moving toward the shouts and murmurs with a purposeful stride.

  Aurora followed, having to hurry to keep up with his rushed pace. They moved into the spiral stairway. As soon as they emerged into the main hallway, they saw a line of peasants and servants all facing in one direction, some strained to see above the heads of others. Merchants and shop owners stood before them, closer to the spectacle.

  Aurora could hear the sound of swords clanging, echoing through the hallway.

  Damien paused at the first step, then glanced back at her. Their eyes met and locked. The scowl he wore and his tight lips were testament to his displeasure. He moved forward, having to work his way through the people. Aurora followed. As the onlookers saw them, they gave way with slight bows or greetings of ‘m’lord’ and ‘m’lady’.

  Damien paused at the front of the circle beside Rupert. He spoke to Rupert, but Aurora couldn’t hear what he said over the shouts and encouragement from the crowd. Damien again looked back at her, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe. He leaned in and spoke again to Rupert. Rupert glanced back at Aurora and then nodded at Damien.

  Aurora could only surmise that Damien told Rupert to stay with her.

  He moved forward, into the open circle of the two fighting knights.

  Aurora recognized one of the two men as a young knight named Thomas. The other knight she didn’t recognize. He must have come with the count and countess or Lord Knowles and his wife who had arrived late last night. Tingles of trepidation danced across the nape of her neck as Damien approached them.

  The crowd quieted to hear his words until only the ting of swords meeting in the hallway sounded.

  When the two knights saw him, they stilled with their swords crossed before them.

  Thomas looked torn. His gaze shifted from Damien to the knight and back. “Take heed, m’lord.”

  Aurora moved forward, but Rupert caught her arm. When she looked at him, he shook his head.

  “Put down your weapons,” Damien ordered. “There is no sword fighting inside the castle.”

  Thomas began to lower his sword, but when the visiting knight did not, he brought his back up again.

  “You are not my lord,” the knight answered bitterly. “I only take orders from him.”

  Damien stepped up to Thomas’s side. “You are a guest here in Acquitaine. If you do not lower your weapon, I will see that you are banned from its borders.”

  “And who are you that you have this authority?”

  Damien narrowed his eyes. “Sir Damien. But you know that, don’t you?”

  The knight grimaced, and suddenly Damien pushed Thomas backward and drew his sword to counter the knight’s strike t
o his heart.

  Cherished Protector of Her Heart - Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Four

  Damien sidestepped the blow as he pulled out his sword. He hit the knight’s weapon, knocking it aside. He couldn’t concentrate on what was going on around him, not the shifting crowd, nor even Aurora. He had to watch this knight, his every move. He allowed the beast inside of him, the one he had thought buried and captured, to emerge from his cage. He could not allow disobedience. He would not allow it in his home, nor in his guests.

  “There are many who say you do not have the blood line–”

  That was all the knight got out before Damien attacked, reining blows down upon him. The knight defended himself, but was not able to talk. That was fine with Damien.

  He pushed him back to the wall before the knight swung his blade. Damien arced his body away from the blow, which was too close. He had to be more diligent. The second swing was expected and Damien countered it, then stepped in to punch the knight in the face. The knight's nose erupted in a gush of blood.

  Damien ducked the next swing and kicked the knight back. He fell into the crowd, which parted for the falling knight with cries of alarm.

  Damien clutched his sword tightly, waiting for the angry knight to rise. The knight had gotten lucky with the one blow. It would not happen again.

  The knight shoved himself to his feet and whirled, facing Damien, panting, furious.

  It was enough. He would make mistakes.

  He lunged toward Damien, his sword held high in the air. It would be too easy to kill him. Instead, Damien sidestepped the blow and then ducked the following swing. He needed to finish it so no one questioned his authority again. He caught the next swing with his sword, sliding up to the hilt. He captured the knight’s hand to the hilt, holding it tight. The knight did the same. Instead of struggling for control, Damien used the knight’s own weight. He leaned back and flipped the knight over his head. He jumped to his feet, and before the knight had time to recover he stomped his hand on the knight’s sword arm, trapping it on the floor.