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 steps 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.