Chapter Twenty

 

His eyes held flames, and Gabriella swore she could feel the heat from the fire of his wrath. He took in the room with a quick glance before alighting on her, hiding in the corner.

“Come here,” he said slowly, his voice rasped with suppressed anger.

Gabriella shook her head no, clinging to the back of the chair, a pitcher hidden behind her back. Her fear felt so immense she thought she’d pass out.

“I will not tell you again, Gabriella. Come here this instant, or you will suffer even more.”

She could only hold his gaze for a moment. She was paralyzed by her fear. Her heart raced uncontrollably. She didn’t know what he was going to do to her, but his anger rolled off him like the waves crashing outside the castle walls. Gabriella gripped the pitcher tighter. How dare he intimidate me! This is ridiculous and I’ll not stand idly by and let him boss me around.

Damon watched her intently. He was so angry that it all but boiled under his skin. He took one step, and she threw the pitcher at his head. The pitcher shattered against the door mere inches from its mark. Damon glared at her even harder—if that were possible.

Gabriella knew she should listen to him, but really, this was the most ludicrous situation she had ever been in. She glared back at Damon.

With a bellow, Damon lunged for her, and she screamed. He grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. His hand felt like a vice around her wrist, and he was pulling her so hard behind him she thought he’d pull her arm from its socket. “Let me go, you stupid idiot,” she cursed.

She tried to drag her feet to keep him from moving, but it was like trying to drag a locomotive. She tried to jerk her wrist from his grasp, but he only squeezed harder. She resorted to trying to hit him, but it was like hitting an oak, and he only seemed to get madder.

Damon’s anger was so immense he could barely contain it. He dragged her down the stairs and through the great hall, where the injured were being tended. Children were being cleaned up and the survivors were given pallets on the floors. The bailey was not large enough to provide space for all of these people and there was no place else to put them but within the castle walls.

Gabriella gasped at the wounded all around the hall. The stench of burned flesh, blood and smoke filled the air. The senselessness of it filled her with anguish and horror. She staggered with the shock of violence that surrounded her.

Damon jerked her arm to straighten her. He strode on through the hall, past the kitchens and down a back staircase that curved as it wound downward beneath the castle to the dungeon below. Flames from the sconces sputtered in the breeze of their passing as he continued to pull her behind him. She could smell the dank stink of mold and rotted rushes, old blood, dirty bodies and urine.

Damon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed a ring of keys from a hook on the wall. A giant of a man sat in an alcove and watched his liege pulling the woman behind him. His gnarly, black-tooth smile made his eyes squint. Gabriella gasped in fear. The man was huge, filthy and meaner-looking than any person she’d ever seen before.

Damon pulled her down a line of cells, some empty, some occupied with other filthy residents. He stopped at the end of the row and turned the key in the lock, opening the door on squeaky hinges. Pulling her arm, he whipped her inside, where she stumbled into the cold, clammy wall.

“Now, milady, do you wish to tell of how you came to be in that field? Who you are in league with? Because as God is my witness, you will rot in this dungeon until you do,” he growled. Damon stalked towards her and grabbed the front sides of her dress, pulling them together and bringing her toes up off the floor.

Gabriella squeaked.

“Speak,” he roared.

Gabriella shuddered and closed her eyes. She had never been so afraid in her entire life. She knew that even if she told him that she didn’t know how she arrived in the field, that she came from another time, that he just might decide to kill her. She didn’t know what to say. She could barely breathe with him so close. His anger seeped into her pores, and she was frozen speechless.

“So be it,” Damon growled, his face a study in anger, his eyes a flat steel gray. He released her so suddenly that Gabriella’s knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Looking up, she watched his retreat.

He slammed the door behind him and turned the lock, not once looking at her.

“Gavin,” Damon bellowed.

“Aye, milord,” the jailer responded.

“If she so much as utters a word, beat her. She is not to be disturbed by anyone without my personal orders. Is that understood?”

“Aye, milord.”

Gabriella cringed as tears began to flow down her cheeks. What the hell have I gotten myself into? With that thought, she wrapped her arms around her legs, holding them close to her body as she quietly sobbed her anguish and fear.

* * * * * *

Damon mounted the stairs without a backward glance. He was covered in soot and weary to the bone. He would not allow her tears or fear to change him from this course. If she chose not to speak, she could stay in the damn dungeon forever.

Damon met Tanak and Rosalynn in the great hall. All had watched Damon drag the girl to the dungeon, and no one dared to speak to him of his behavior. The glare of his eyes and his clenched jaw proved it would be a dangerous undertaking.

“Tanak, I want Sedrick and five others to go back to the forest, search for three hours and return. I want every leaf, bush and rock turned over. If they find nothing, I want six more men sent out.”

“As you wish,” Tanak replied and turned to follow his friend’s orders.

“Rosalynn. I want these people cleaned up, this blood stench removed from my hall and these children kept from my sight.”

“Aye, milord,” she replied. “And the girl?” she asked cautiously.

“Heed me well on this, Rosalynn, for I will have no rebuke. She is not to be trusted. You will keep her wound cleaned and her body fed. That is all. She is not to leave that cell, nor speak to anyone but me. Is that understood?”

“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.”