Damien paused as the import of that information sank in. When he made his response, his jaw felt tight. “Michael was correct in what he told you, lady. However, I do not recall asking to be saved from it.”
“And yet youweresaved, Sir Damien. Because Alissende needs you.”
That last comment slammed like a fist into his gut, the irony of it coming now—after all this time—almost too much to bear. He raised his brow and found himself grounding out the one word that from the moment he had laid eyes on Alissende again he had vowed he would not utter…the tiny opening he knew he should not grant them and yet could not stop himself from offering anyway.
“Explain.”
Lady Blanche proceeded to do just that, while Alissende stood a few steps distant, watching Damien with a kind of painful awareness flooding her; she studied the rigidity of his powerful back, the twitching cords of muscle along his cheek, and the battle-honed contours of his arms that led to fisted hands. Along with him she heard once more the litany of Hugh’s crimes against her—of his aggressions and evil deeds, the whole of it punctuated by her cousin’s assurance that his brother, Hugh de Valles, the new Earl of Harwick, was an unstoppable, dark force, protected in part by his carefully cultivated position of favor within the royal household—but she said nothing herself.
She could not. Nay, not a word. All that she was feeling had risen up, thick and hot, to fill her throat, keeping her mute.
She had been readying herself for this meeting for weeks, ever since Michael had received word that Damien would survive. She had rehearsed over and over again how she might feel, what she would say, the memories she would need to subdue when she looked into the stunning blue eyes that had once burned with love for her.
But she had been beyond foolish, she realized, for nothing could have prepared her for the reality of this. This was Damien standing before her, as magnificent as he had been the first time she had noticed him when she’d been but a young maiden and he a hot-blooded new knight at court…gentle, sweet Damien—the breathtaking warrior of velvet and steel, tenderness and fire, who had loved her with such devotion that she had become intoxicated with constant longing for him. Being near him had filled her with joy, and she had believed with every fiber of her being when he had gazed into her eyes and vowed that even death itself would have no power to come between them.
But she had changed that. God help her, she had changed it.
She had thought time would mend the gaping wound she had dealt to both their hearts the day she had cast him away…had hoped against hope that he might heal, even if he could not forgive.
But he had not healed, any more than she had. She could see that now. The bitter truth of it had been there like a blade in her heart as soon as their gazes had met but a few moments past. She had been swept up in the storms raging in his eyes, knowing she would have to make peace with that if her mother and cousin managed to convince him to stay.
Aye, that and much more.
Silence settled over the chamber, and Alissende realized that the explanations were finished at last. Damien stood, silent and motionless as before, except for the shallow, even breaths he took. When at last he spoke, it was in a voice that sounded hoarse from restrained emotion.
“Thwarting Lord Harwick seems to be a necessary action, if all you have told me is true, but I still fail to understand why I must be the one to undertake it.” He made a sound of disbelief. “There are skillful warriors aplenty throughout England, and many titled noblemen besides who would consider themselves blessed beyond measure to wed a young, widowed heiress such as—” He stopped short, inclining his head slightly as he finished, “—such as your daughter. Why did you not seek out one of them?”
Alissende felt the jab, not only of his carefully worded insult but also of his deliberate omission of her name. He had not uttered it even once this day, she realized of a sudden, and it cut her to the quick.
“Because we were in France when it became clear that extreme measures must be taken to prevent Hugh from seizing Alissende by force,” Lady Blanche said, not unkindly. “And so wereyou,in dire circumstances of your own. It seemed an honorable exchange: your life for Alissende’s safety. More importantly, you are not a stranger to us. What we knew of you was in your favor, and so the proxy was created to make you Alissende’s husband.”
“You must have been truly desperate, then,” Damien answered darkly, “for it is no secret that I was judged to be deficient for that role five years ago. Naught about me has changed since that time, except for the worse—for now in addition to being a poor and landless knight, I am also a tarnished former Templar and an accused heretic to boot. If the feigned Writ of Absolution you have procured for me is discovered, then I and anyone connected to me will be subject to arrest and interrogation.”
He laughed again, a joyless, sharp sound. “Nay, I am not the man for this duty. Seek another, for I intend to serve no master but myself and am bound for the freedom of Scotland to sell my skills to the highest bidder as a mercenary knight. I have naught to offer anyone as a husband.”
He seemed as if he might glance to Alissende then, but he appeared to stiffen in the act, preventing himself at the last moment. “If there is no more to this than what you have told me, then,” he continued, “I will needs—”
“If you must know the full truth of it,” Alissende interrupted, forcing his gaze to her at last, “you were chosen of all men, Damien, because you are the one man of all who once loved me.” Heat filled her cheeks with the admission, but she was bolstered by the steadying dose of irritation that had finally begun to seep through her embarrassment and despondency; it allowed her to tip her chin enough so that she could meet his stare head-on as she said, “That is no secret either, is it?”
The shadowy array of emotions that swept across his face in the charged silence that followed might have made any other woman sink to the floor at his feet, begging forgiveness. But Alissende had lived through far too much of her own pain and disappointment to indulge that kind of visible weakness. She kept her back stiff, never taking her gaze from his.
His eyes glittered down at her in the wash of sunlight, cool blue and filled with a stunning blend of anger and pain; then that sardonic tilt lifted the corner of his sinfully handsome mouth again, sending a stab of desire through her as he murmured at last, “I do not think you wish to explore the fullness of that question now, lady, and in front of this company.”
“And yet it is the true reason my family urged me to accept this proxy,” she allowed, her voice husky with all she was holding back. “That you and I share a public…historytogether,” she felt herself flushing again, “presents a better appearance to the rest of the world, permitting the possibility that our match was undertaken in sincerity rather than for simple expedience.”
“My brother was training in France when you served at court, Sir Damien,” Michael murmured from off to the side, though Alissende noted that Damien did not shift his gaze away from her to look at him, “so you know aught of him from your own experience. But you must understand something about Hugh’s grasping nature to fully comprehend the gravity of this.”
“And what would that be?” Damien uttered the question, still keeping his attention only on her, the force of his stare unleashing unwelcome ripples of emotion she would not—could not—allow herself to feel again.
“Hugh has spent considerable energy cultivating a position of favor with our new king,” Michael continued, “and it was well known at court that he intended to make Alissende his own, once the official mourning period for her late husband ended. That my brother might have been complicit in the hunting accident that took Lord Denton from this world seemed of little consequence within the royal circle, for Hugh applied his influence to smooth over any concerns.”
Damien scowled, looking at Michael at last. “One of my Templar brethren, Sir Richard de Cantor, served the king as a weapons trainer many years ago. He confided concern that the new sovereign’s judgment might prove weak in matters of friendship.”
Michael nodded. “King Edward has not shown himself as shrewd as many would wish in the time he has held the throne, preferring to honor his favorites at the cost of the kingdom’s barons and lords. My brother has ingratiated himself to the king in this fashion and had all but persuaded His Majesty to support his marriage to Alissende at the time we fled with her to France. That was why we needed to act immediately, before my brother’s increasingly violent attempts to claim our cousin for himself became a royal decree.”
Michael walked over and took Alissende’s hand in his own, trying to comfort her, and Alissende squeezed gently back, grateful for his concern. “As it stands,” he finished, “the king is not pleased with what he perceives as Alissende’s impetuous action with this proxy, but he has come to accept it in the belief that it was made out of a love long denied by time and circumstance.”
“The proxy has been declared officially at court already?” Damien grated, looking to her and then back to Michael. “By God, but you assume much. You did not even take into account the possibility that I would refuse your plan.”
