Angel's Assassin (13 page)

Her horse? By his size, Damien surmised Imp
was a warhorse, not suited for a lady. He nodded.

“I raised Imp from when he was little. His
father is my father’s war horse.” She met Damien’s gaze,
proclaiming with an upturned chin. “I trained him myself.”

“He’s a beautiful horse.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Aurora said.
“Because I am giving him to you.”

“What?”

“He comes from a fine line and I am sure you
will be happy with his --”

“You are giving him to me?”

Aurora lifted her eyebrows and nodded her
head. “Your reward for saving me. There is no better horse in all
my stables than Imp.”

“But he’s your horse,” Damien said, awed.

“You will learn to love him as much as I do,”
she stated, stroking the horse’s nose.

Imp nickered again.

Damien turned to the horse. He was a
beautiful stallion. His hindquarters and withers were the same
height. The muscles in his shoulders and rear legs were strong and
able. He’d never dreamt of having a warhorse. They were reserved
for nobility and for knights. Not for assassins.

“Would you like to ride him?” Aurora
asked.

Shocked, Damien turned to her.

Her gaze swept his face, a small grin on her
perfect lips.

In an instant, all thought of riding the
horse vanished and concern for her well-being replaced his
enthusiasm. “Are you well enough to ride with me?”

Aurora considered his question, but the smile
hidden behind her pursed lips never disappeared. “I’m always well
enough to ride.”

Damien narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. What
did that mean? She must be a good rider if she trained Imp. But how
good? “Ride with me,” he encouraged.

Aurora nodded. She walked to another stall
where a mare was stabled. She took the reins from a post and led
the horse to the door. Aurora grabbed the mare’s mane and pulled
herself over the horse’s back. She threw her leg over the animal
and swiveled her head to look at Damien.

Astounded, Damien could only stare. Bareback!
It was obvious she was very comfortable riding.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Do you
think you can keep up?” She kicked the horse hard, driving the mare
out into the inner ward.

D
amien’s mouth
dropped open as Aurora raced off. Her hands gripped the mare’s
brown mane with confidence. Her body moved in complete rhythm with
the horse’s movements. It was obviously not the first time she rode
a horse this way.

Damien mounted Imp and spurred him after her.
If it were a race she wanted, he would give her one. He was an
excellent rider and would prove to her she could not win against
him.

Aurora led him out of the castle and across a
field, racing like a messenger delivering a life or death missive
to the king.

Damien closed the distance between them, an
evil grin curving his lips. He would catch her in a matter of
moments. Imp was stronger and faster than her mare. His smugness
vanished as she swerved her mare toward the forest. Damien grit his
teeth. She knew Imp’s limitations. He was a big animal. It would be
harder for the warhorse to beat the mare in the cover of the
forest.

Aurora entered the woods through a small gap
in the trees.

Damien followed, seconds behind her, having
to duck low beneath a branch stretching across the opening. She
raced ahead of him, maneuvering the horse around a tree and then
another and another, leaping the mare expertly over a fallen limb
blocking her path.

Damn, she was good, Damien thought,
struggling to keep up with her. The larger steed had a more
difficult time handling the tight trees and bushes in the forest
than Aurora’s smaller mare, but Damien was determined not to let
her get out of the woods before he did.

Their pace quickened as the path in the
forest widened, giving the animals more room to show off their
speed. He could hear the wind whistle past his ears, feel the
horse’s powerful muscles beneath his thighs. His own hot breath
came in cadence with the warhorse’s heavy grunts. Still, he could
not overtake Aurora.

She purposely slowed her mare and Damien
caught up to her. Her face was full of determination, her jaw set
tight. He could only see a part of her eyes, but what he saw
gleamed with inner fire. Perspiration glimmered on her face, giving
her skin a lustrous sheen.

Damien swung his gaze ahead of them,
wondering why she slowed. To his left, an old bridge crossed a
dried out stream carving a deep cut into the earth. Not much beyond
that, he saw the edge of the woods and the clearing beyond. He had
one chance to take the lead from her in their little race. He had
to stay on the path and jump the old riverbed.

Suddenly, Aurora jerked her horse to the
side, cutting in front of Damien and Imp.

“That was very unladylike!” Damien called out
to her. “Well done!” As he urged Imp toward the ravine, Damien
could see Aurora out of the corner of his eye. She leaned low over
the mare’s head, urging the horse faster. They reached the bridge
before Damien arrived at the ditch. The mare clattered over the
bridge, galloping at full speed.

When she reached the other side, Aurora did
not follow the path, but instead plunged forward into the heavy
growth of trees just off the narrow dirt trail.

Damien spurred Imp and the mighty steed
soared over the old riverbed, clearing the ditch with plenty of
room to spare. The path to the edge of the woods curved. He leaned
low in the saddle and guided Imp back onto the trail Aurora veered
off of. “Go!” he urged in Imp’s ear. “Go!”

Damien glanced over to see Aurora and her
mare swerving around fallen branches, dodging trees with only
inches to spare. Their horses were almost neck and neck.

With a gentle nudge, Aurora urged the mare
over a fallen tree, then burst through the bushes and into the
clearing, beating Damien by mere seconds.

The ride through the trees instead of the
path had been incredibly risky and reckless. It was a fabulous
move. Damien admired it, even in his defeat.

Aurora reined in the mare, smiling
resplendently at Damien. “You are an excellent rider,” she admitted
breathing heavily.

“Not quite excellent enough,” he replied,
looking at her with a newfound admiration. She was one of the best
riders he had ever seen. The skill she displayed handling her horse
was almost magical.

Aurora lifted her leg over the mare’s back
and slid to the ground. She patted her mare’s nose, whispering
words of fondness to it. She took the bridle and began walking
across the field. “There is a stream ahead where the horses can get
a drink,” she told Damien. “Widow Dorothy’s house is just over the
ridge beyond.”

Damien scanned his surroundings. The field
was not very large, surrounded on all sides by trees. In the
distance to the north, a rolling hill obscured the horizon. The
trees worried him, their thick trunks offering a thousand places to
hide. “Do you come this way to Widow Dorothy’s every time?”

Aurora nodded. “Usually I stick to the path.
It’s a beautiful area. Very secluded. Private. I think in the
entire time I’ve been riding Imp I’ve only run into two…no, three
other people.” She grinned. “That’s why I enjoy it.”

Secluded. The word set off a warning bell in
Damien’s mind. He cursed himself. How easy it was to forget what he
was hired to do when he was around her. She had a way of making
everything else unimportant except for her sweet smile. Even her
own safety took a back seat to her charms. He thought about their
wild race. It would be difficult to follow them unnoticed. Still…
“We shouldn’t stay here long.”

She walked elegantly, easily leading the
mare. “Just until the horses get a drink.”

Her thick braid of gold swayed with her
movements. Perfection, he thought. Her skin was flawless,
luminescent. Like an angel. And yet… there was another side to her.
A tempting and alluring side. Her lips were full and enticing. Her
breasts were rounded and firm. Her hips curvy and… Damien shook
himself mentally. You are here to finish your mission, he
reprimanded himself silently. And they were alone. Secluded.

The darkness that lived in his soul stirred
and settled about him, drawing him away from Aurora’s
influence.

“I love coming out here,” Aurora admitted. “I
know this forest well.” She glanced at Damien with a gentle,
curious stare. “Were there forests where you grew up?”

Damien nodded. His hand dropped to the dagger
in his belt.

Aurora turned her gaze from him to the stream
before them. She took a deep breath, lifting her face to a beam of
sunlight shining in through the leaves of the trees.

Lord, she was beautiful. He could stare at
her smooth skin, her radiant beauty for an eternity and never grow
tired of it. But he didn’t have eternity. He stopped. His horse
continued on, but his firm hand on the reins forced the animal to a
halt. How easy it would be. One quick swipe. His fist tightened
around the dagger’s handle. He would finally be free.

She brought her mare to a halt and tied the
animal’s reins to a tree’s branch near the stream.

Damien wrapped Imp’s reins to the branch of
another tree nearby.

Aurora bent down on her knees near the
stream, cupping the crystal clear water in her hand.

Damien lifted his shirt over his head,
removing it so no blood would get on it. Too many people would
notice, too many people knew he left with her. He tossed it to a
nearby rock and approached Aurora, slowly beginning to ease the
dagger from his belt. Damien’s gaze settled on her bottom. It was
perfect and rounded and… He shook his head. Damn, how he wanted to
touch her.

Aurora sat back on her heels, wiping her
chin. She turned to him.

He froze as she slowly stood before him. The
fresh water glistened on her lips making them look more succulent
than ever. He was very thirsty. Just one taste.

“You took your shirt off?”

Damien nodded, watching the way her lips
moved so seductively over each word.

“Why?” she asked.

He swallowed in a suddenly dry throat.
“Swim,” he managed to say.

“With your sword on?”

He dropped the dagger back into its place and
removed his belt, draping it over the rock where he had thrown his
tunic. Aurora’s sudden gasp made him whirl.

“Your back,” she whispered.

Damien grit his teeth. His back. Yes. His
back. He had almost forgotten. She made him forget, for just one
moment, who he was. His back was lined with scars of punishment. He
put his arm down quickly, not wanting her to see Roke’s brand
beneath his upper arm, the black circle with the black x seared
into his skin. He reached for his tunic.

“No,” Aurora whispered.

His hand froze as she stepped up to him. Now.
He could do it now. When she showed the same disgust as everyone
else. When she saw him for the disfigured monster he was. His hand
slid from his tunic to rest lightly over the dagger in the belt on
the rock.

Her fingers reached out and traced one scar
across his back to his side.

Damien stood tall before her. He always wore
the scars proudly, as a form of defiance to his master. Even the
sharp kiss of the whip had not broken him, much to Roke’s
displeasure. But now, the scars made him feel… inadequate.

She lifted horrified eyes to lock with his.
“Who did this?”

How could she look at them, much less touch
them? Other women had been repulsed. Some had even turned away from
him. But she was not like other women. Aurora’s healing stroke
swept over his skin, sending warmth pulsing through his body. The
darkness inside him shrank away, retreating. And Damien felt
something unfamiliar stirring in him, something soothing and yet
heated at the same time. Something that sent shivers of warmth
through his body. It was not time to finish his mission. Not now.
He pulled his hand away from the dagger.

“Damien?” she asked, lifting her eyes from
his side to meet his stare. Concern and even outrage shone in her
eyes. But no repulsion. No disgust.

How could she look at him and not see the
evil lurking inside him? The evil that even now wanted to devour
her? Damien knew her innocence and compassion were exactly what
attracted him to her. And he was so very attracted.

Her gaze dipped to his lips and she pulled
back, nervously crossing her arms over her chest, and turned her
back to him. She bowed her head. “I could help you, you know,” she
said softly. “You should not have to endure that.”

“It happened a long time ago,” he said,
moving up behind her.

“Why?” she demanded. “Why would someone do
that to you?”

He was so close he could almost touch her.
“Shouldn’t you ask what I did to deserve such punishment?”

She began to shake her head, but stopped.
“Did you deserve it?”

Damien thought back on the incident that
caused his punishment. It had been shortly after Roke purchased
him, when he thought there was nothing to live for. The training
was physically hard, but nothing he couldn’t withstand. Roke was
attempting to mold him into a warrior, a fighter. He refused to
participate. The beating was quick and painful. Afterwards, they
locked him in a room alone, in the dark. No food. No water. He had
too much time to think. To think about Gawyn running free in the
sunlight, eating what he wanted, going wherever he wanted, doing
what he wanted. Damien wanted to die. When he got out of the
solitary confinement room, he went after that morbid purpose
vigorously, purposely defiant and insolent to his master. He had
been whipped so severely he almost died. He had been made an
example of. No one treated Roke that way and lived. But he had. Did
he deserve such a harsh whipping? “Most assuredly,” he
admitted.