Angel's Assassin (22 page)

Helen gasped in exuberance and moved to the
garderobe to pick out a beautiful blue dress made of opulent
velvet. She spun it around before laying it on the bed. “Isn’t he
handsome?”

Aurora couldn’t even look at Helen without
the image of Damien’s lips on Helen’s searing to the forefront of
her mind.

Helen sat on the bed beside the dress. “I
think I love him,” Helen admitted.

“Who is it today?” Aurora wondered. She had
heard the words before from Helen. Many times. But none of those
times had brought this much sadness.

“Damien, of course.”

Aurora’s heart plummeted in despair. “How do
you know?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Helen stood with boundless energy, as if she
could not stay seated. She glided across the floor to the table
near the wall and picked up a cloth. She plunged the cloth into the
basin full of water. “He is not like any other man I have known. My
heart thumps in my chest when he is near. And when he looks at me
with those eyes!” She shook her head, breathlessly, her hand over
her heart. “I feel as though I am falling into them. I want to be
with him all of the time.”

Aurora looked down at her entwined hands
where they rested in her lap. She hoped to hide the anguish tearing
her apart. Every word Helen uttered was a description of her own
feelings. How had this happened?

Helen wrung the cloth out and turned to
Aurora. “He kissed me,” she whispered. “And it felt like I touched
the very stars.”

Aurora could not lift her head. She
remembered how Damien’s kiss made her world spin, her mind dizzy.
Tears burned her eyes, punishing her for the sin she committed.

“Oh, and his wicked touch,” Helen continued
in a sigh as she approached Aurora. “I could hardly breathe.”

For a moment, Aurora could not move. She
fought valiantly to regain control of her emotions. She was Lady of
Acquitaine. She could not hold tender feelings for a man who kissed
other women. For a man who only wanted to knock her from a
pedestal. And yet, the tears would not be banished.

Helen wiped the cloth along her cheek. “I
know it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it,” Helen confided in a
breathless whisper. “I would have given him anything had he merely
asked.”

Aurora’s spirits sank as a thickness welled
in her throat. How could she have let Damien kiss her? How could
she have let him? But the memory of his hot mouth moving over hers
only caused her chest to constrict further.

“He is so strong, and –”

“That will be all for now, Helen,” Aurora
said with more command than she had intended.

Helen stepped back, shocked. “I haven’t done
your hair,” Helen said quietly.

“I’ll do it,” Aurora whispered.

Helen bobbed a curtsey, hiding her surprise.
“Yes, m’lady.” Helen walked to the door.

Doubt filled Aurora. She knew she should call
Helen back and apologize for her abruptness. But she did not want
to hear how Damien had touched her cousin, how he kissed her. She
could not bear the image engrained on her mind. She demanded her
mind stop replaying the scene. Instead, her traitorous body let a
tear pass from her eye unchecked.

Alexander knew the answer was here. He just
needed to find it. He stared down at the headless assassin. This
corpse was the victim of Damien’s blade from the forest attack.
Alexander had paid the cemetery keeper a coin to see the body.
Well, what was left of him anyway. His body was there, as was his
head; they were just not connected.

Alexander lifted the man’s arm and pulled up
his tunic. There it was. The black circle with the x through it.
The brand that he had discovered on the other assassin. The mark
that connected them. Both assassins were sent by the same man. But
who?

Alexander placed the arm back in place. He
stared at the decapitation. It was so clean. It took a lot of
strength to take a man’s head clean off his shoulders. He leaned
forward, inspecting the cut. The blood had long since either
drained from his body or stopped flowing. But this wasn’t what
Alexander was looking at. It was the slice, the cut. So very clean.
The killing blow was delivered with a very sharp sword. But most
swords had a sharp edge, so that wasn’t what struck him as
different about this kill.

No, this strike was brutal. Filled with
anger. Vicious. Alexander moved to the head lying beside the body.
He grabbed hold of the hair and lifted the head. He pictured the
assassin standing there.

He drew an invisible path along the severed
neck of the man indicating where the sword had entered and where it
had come out. He could tell because the skin was flapping on the
exit side. He turned the head to look at the exit path of the
blade. His eyes narrowed. It was a remarkable cut. The strength,
the precision. He had seen only one other cut so precise.

He had been in a town where the captain of
the guard, Alexander couldn’t even remember the man’s name, had
been killed. But he remembered the blow. The assassin had
completely severed the head. Just like this one. Clean,
precise.

Slowly, Alexander lowered the head back to
the body. God’s blood!

He looked back at the castle. He knew who the
assassin was! Aurora was in danger.

A
lexander
hurried down the hallway. He had to get to Aurora. She had to know
she was in danger. He had to reach her. Damn. The assassin had
always been in the castle, beside Aurora. Pretending to protect
her.

Damien stood outside of the room, his arms
crossed over his chest. He grit his teeth. Helen was inside alone
with Aurora. What was she telling her? And worse, he knew Aurora
would believe that deceitful wench.

The door opened and Helen emerged, closing
the door softly behind her. She lifted a victorious smile to
Damien.

Damien wanted to throttle her; he wanted to
wrap his fingers around Helen’s neck and squeeze until she no
longer could take a breath. Instead, he wrapped his fingers over
the door handle and opened the door, entering Aurora’s room.

Alexander rounded a corner and entered the
stairway, taking the stone stairs two at a time. He ran to Aurora’s
room and flung the door open. “Aurora?”

The room was dark. He entered, his heart
clenching tight in dread. Was he too late?

Dim light shone through one of the thin
vertical window slits carved in the wall. She would usually be here
at this time of day, embroidering with some of her ladies.
Alexander’s gaze swept the darkness. Had Damien already killed her?
The dim lighting made it impossible to see anything except for the
chair two feet in front of him.

A rustling sound behind him made him spin
toward the noise. He wasn’t alone. He whipped his sword from its
scabbard.

Behind him, a shadow separated from the wall
and came forward, the glint of a dagger shining off the light in
the hallway.

The whispery kiss of a sharp blade hissed
across his throat. Pain followed the slice and Alexander lifted his
hand to his neck. Blood flowed quick and free from the fatal cut.
He tried to stem it, pressing his hand to his throat, but there was
no stopping the wet stream spreading through, and down, his
fingers. He stumbled and fell to his knees, swinging the sword
wildly in desperation to ward off anyone near him. The blade only
cut through empty air.

As darkness crept in at the corners of his
vision, a man stepped forward, not the man he had expected, but
another man. A man with the same eyes as Damien.

Alexander took a final gurgling breath. He
wouldn’t be able to save Aurora. She was the last thought he had
before his body went limp.

Aurora knelt on the stone floor of the
chapel, her head bowed with the weight of her guilt. Oh, she had
sinned. She deserved to be punished for what she allowed Damien to
do to her. Kiss her. Touch her. She clasped her hands so tightly
her knuckles burned. The worst sin of all was to have these
feelings for him! To want to kiss him. To look for him wherever she
went.

She bowed her head over her hands and prayed
for guidance and strength.

Ormand had departed the castle without
another word. Sir Harold and the other two knights had confessed
their role in the plot. They were banished from Acquitaine. Her
father was being generous. They should have been fined. They should
have been hung to the highest rafter for threatening to hurt
Damien. She cast a glance over her shoulder. Damien had gratefully
given her this time alone, standing respectfully near the wall of
the chapel. Even now, she could see his darker form amidst the
shadows. She knew he was watching her. A tingle of awareness
ignited her body.

She faced the altar once again. While she
couldn’t see him clearly, she could feel his gaze upon her every
moment, like a gentle caress. His touch came unbidden to her memory
and heat rushed through her body. Aurora remembered his brazen
caress. She remembered his hot kiss. She had been intoxicated by
his nearness. The feelings she had for him were wrong. They were
images and feelings she should have only for her husband! She was
Lady of Acquitaine, above such indiscretions. Aurora the saint.
Aurora the virtuous. She had heard those whispers behind her back.
She bowed her head, tightening her entwined hands, and prayed.

She wasn’t above having those feelings. Not
since Damien…

She didn’t know what to do. She knew she
should not be near Damien, the enticement of him was too much for
her to resist. Yet, God help her, even with the traitorous image of
he and Helen kissing, she could barely stand his absence. She had
never met a man like him.

After about an hour, Damien joined her,
kneeling beside her. “What could you possibly be praying for this
long?”

Aurora lowered her folded hands from her
forehead. “I do not believe that is any of your concern.”

“If you were my angel, I would forgive you
anything,” Damien whispered softly.

Aurora turned to him, startled.

“Will you forgive me?” he whispered.

His dark eyes were full of vulnerability and
an intensity that touched her. “It is not my duty to cast
judgment.”

“And yet you hold my transgression against
me. Isn’t your God supposed to forgive anything?”

Aurora’s eyebrows rose. “My God? Don’t you
worship God?”

Damien raised his eyes to the cross above the
altar of the chapel. “I believe I’m already in hell.”

His statement shocked Aurora, but she
remembered the scars on his back. “There must have been some good
in your life.”

Damien’s gaze swiveled to her. “You’re the
closest thing to heaven I’ve ever known.”

Stunned, she could only stare into his dark
eyes. The honesty in his words touched her heart. They were
humbling and flattering. And yet, if she was the closest thing he
had ever known to heaven, what kind of horrible life had he
lived?

Her gaze dropped to his lips. She was not
heavenly. Because if she was, she wouldn’t be jealous of Helen. She
would be able to give him the forgiveness he sought. She couldn’t
think clearly when he was so near. She wanted to forgive him. She
wanted to touch him. But the painful image wouldn’t fade from her
mind. Her mind was cluttered with doubts and betrayal.

Aurora rose and left the chapel.

Aurora strolled past the Great Hall and saw
Jennifer hurrying through the large double doors toward her. She
bowed her head. She didn’t think she could face Jennifer just now.
But her cousin took up pace beside her.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

Aurora nodded. She was always all right. For
her people.

“I’m so sorry about Count Ormand.”

Aurora nodded, without looking at her cousin.
She wasn’t sorry about Ormand. Not after what he had attempted. His
motives were anything but gallant.

Jennifer hooked her arm through Aurora’s and
led her into the stairway. “It will be fine, you’ll see. Count
Ormand was not the man for you.”

Aurora remained silent. She didn’t want to
spread rumors about his arrogance or his selfishness.

They moved up the spiral stairway
together.

Aurora knew Damien was following, but she
couldn’t hear his footsteps.

When they emerged from the enclosed stairway,
Jennifer said, “Jeffrey is an honorable man, you know that. But
about a month ago, a woman said that he had made advances to
her.”

Startled, Aurora looked at her. “You didn’t
tell me…”

Jennifer shrugged. “Jeffrey and I had to work
it out ourselves. Jeffrey was not at fault. In the course of trying
to be kind to her and not hurt her feelings, his manners were
misinterpreted as affection.”

Aurora scowled. “Then everything worked
out?”

“In the end, yes.” Jennifer pulled her close.
“I see the way you look at Damien,” she whispered.

And then Aurora understood. “You spoke to
Helen.”

Jennifer squeezed Aurora’s arm. “Helen wants
every man to love her. She isn’t happy unless she has the man she
can’t have.”

The image of Damien and Helen kissing came to
Aurora’s mind, followed closely by the sting of betrayal.

“And I see the way he looks at you,” Jennifer
said.

Aurora swallowed a lump in her throat. “You
are mistaken,” she said with all the bravado she could muster. “He
must love Helen. He was kissing her.”

Shocked, Jennifer looked at her. Slowly, her
face transformed to sympathy and a compassionate grin tugged at her
lips. “A kiss does not mean love.”

Aurora looked down, refusing to let her
cousin see the tears and pain this caused her. Damien had kissed
her.