Chapter 19 #3
Damien twisted to follow Hugh’s stare, seeing that this at least was no bluff. The sun glinted wickedly off the tip of the arrow notched back in the bow of the archer he’d mentioned, and Bernard had gone the color of milk, stiffening in his saddle as if he expected the piercing blow at any moment.
Snapping his gaze back to Hugh with a scowl, Damien slid his blade back into its sheath, and he heard Bernard follow suit.
Hugh smiled. “Now throw the scabbard and belt to the ground.” Damien was forced to scramble to comply in time, but Hugh nevertheless waited another heart-chilling count before calling off the death-watch.
The bastard.
“While I am duly impressed by your show of power, my lord,” Damien said, echoing Hugh’s sarcasm when the tense moment was past, “can you not simply tell me what you want without surrounding me with a score of soldiers first?”
Hugh paled in anger at the insult, jerking his mount closer to Damien.
His hostility made the steed stamp and prance as he muttered, “You will not be so blithe when I have done with you, Ashby. The sound of your pleas for mercy will be music to my ears, I assure you.” He flashed him a look of pure, gloating evil.
“If I’m not too occupied in fucking Alissende to hear you, that is. ”
That was all it took.
Damien threw himself off his horse, tackling Hugh before the wretch had a chance to even raise his blade, and pulling him to the ground on the other side of his destrier’s stamping hooves.
Commotion erupted all around them, but before Hugh’s men could drag Damien off their lord, Damien got off three good shots with his fist, reveling in cracking it against the cur’s arrogant face.
Too soon he felt himself being yanked back, held at the arms by two men; Hugh lurched to his feet and swiped at the blood coming from the side of his mouth and his nose, his expression filled with rage as he lunged forward with a growl and planted a rock-hard fist into Damien’s belly.
A wall of agony shot through Damien with the blow, seeming to arch up along the still unhealed rib on his left side.
The pain of it choked off his breath and would have likely dropped him to the dirt but for the men still holding him up.
Coughing, Damien forced himself to regain his own feet after a moment; he’d be damned if he’d even appear to cower before Hugh de Valles.
“Not so glib now, are you, Ashby?” Hugh asked tightly, flexing his fist and calling for one of his men to bring a cloth to clean the blood from his face.
Damien didn’t bother trying to answer. Instead, he used the time while Hugh was occupied to try to regain his breath, letting his gaze slip surreptitiously around, checking the perimeter of the road—until he spotted a small movement behind the trees off to the right.
A face peered out for an instant, looking overwhelmed and distraught.
Thomas.
Christ, the lad looked like he was preparing to come out in the open, probably to try to stage a rescue.
It shouldn’t have surprised Damien, knowing his squire’s penchant for tales of valor and heroism.
But he was too young to have learned the difference between courage and outright folly; if he emerged from the wood now, he’d be dead before he could take five paces.
He attempted to meet Thomas’s gaze without being caught at it, feigning another attack of coughing.
To his relief, it worked. Thomas’s eyes were fixed to him, and Damien shook his head sharply, hoping he conveyed the message, even as Hugh walked up, blocking off his view by standing directly in front of him.
“Now let us get down to the meat of this enjoyable meeting, shall we?” Hugh grated. “You have taken something that is mine. While I would relish killing you because of it, I have decided there are other methods of ridding myself of you that would prove even more useful—and satisfying.”
“This tired tune does not bear singing again, methinks,” Damien said calmly, “but if you are entertained by it, then do go on.”
“Don’t pretend ignorance, Ashby. Your secret has been exposed,” Hugh hissed. “The marriage proxy with my cousin? The Writ of Absolution from the Inquisition? Both as flimsy as the parchment upon which they are scribed.”
Damien remained silent, though he could not suppress the feeling of dread that swept through him at the idea that Hugh might have indeed discovered the truth…not for his own sake, but for Alissende’s.
He must not have been as successful as he’d hoped in concealing that flare of anxiety, for Hugh gloated, “Ah, at last a hint of reaction from the impervious Sir Damien. Aren’t you going to ask me how I discovered your ploy to dupe us all?
Are you not curious what I intend to do with this delightful information? ”
Damien met his stare with the penetrating chill of his own, experiencing the satisfaction of watching Hugh shift back a step in response.
“I do not need to ask anything, Harwick,” he grated at last, abandoning all pretense of respectful address.
“Men of your ilk cannot help but tell all eventually, with or without question.” He nodded, mocking, “So why don’t you just go ahead? ”
“It matters little,” Hugh said. “You’re a dead man anyway. My dear brother Michael was as forthcoming with the truth about your falsified proxy and Writ of Absolution as I’d hoped he would be—after the proper incentives were applied to him, of course.”
Damien cursed under his breath, shocked into it by the sickening understanding of how far Hugh was willing to go—and struck with fear over what that could mean for Alissende.
Hugh appeared to be enjoying himself, and he made a show of looking impressed.
“I must say that I never realized gentle Michael possessed such strength of will. I’ve been told he was barely clinging to life once they’d finished with him.
But each man has his breaking point, doesn’t he, Ashby?
” Hugh’s expression turned more sinister.
“You hadn’t quite reached yours when Alissende arranged your rescue from France, it seems. Thank heavens there is still time to revisit that…
ah, yes, and perhaps to learn what Alissende’s is as well, poor dear, depending upon the choice you make in the next few mome—”
“Leave her out of it,” Damien growled, going for Hugh’s throat as he threw himself forward against the grip of the men holding him. But they were ready this time, and they yanked him back, hauling him a few paces away from Hugh, who just stood there with his arms crossed, shaking his head.
Making a clicking sound with his tongue, Hugh approached Damien again.
“Control, Ashby…what has happened to your legendary control, man? I am disappointed.” He stopped then, all mockery vanishing as his gaze sharpened to ice, the force of it boring into Damien.
“And as for leaving Alissende out of it—she is it, you insignificant, upstart mongrel. I have done more for the sake of claiming her than you could ever dream, and I am capable of far worse. You should consider that carefully when making the choice I am about to offer you.”
“Say it then, and let us get on with this,” Damien muttered.
Hugh smiled coldly. “Your first choice is to sign a parchment declaring your marriage to Alissende false. You will then go willingly to be confined in the dungeon of my lesser estate at Grantley Hall a few miles hence, to resume interrogation by the Inquisition as a Templar Knight—”
Hugh’s sadistic pause forced Damien to bite off a clipped “Or?”
“Or you can decline signing the parchment and be taken into custody anyway, only with the added and rather distressing scenario of seeing Alissende arrested along with you, for aiding and abetting an accused heretic. Of course the rest of her household at Glenheim will face questioning as well, no doubt. And when one considers what happens to gentle-born women in such circumstances…” He made a sound feigning concern.
“As I am sure you know, it is often less than savory.”
“You bastard.” Damien’s voice was barely audible at the thought that Hugh would even consider exposing Alissende to that kind of hell.
“Just remember the choice is yours, Ashby. Sign the document, and I will ensure that Alissende is kept free of all taint in the matter.”
“Free for your taking, you mean,” Damien grated, aware of what this would mean for the woman he loved. Yet the alternative of her imprisonment and interrogation would be far worse, he knew.
Hugh shrugged, smiling lecherously. “The spoils of war, nothing more.” In the next breath, however, his grin vanished, replaced by a menacing stare. Leaning in, Hugh fixed Damien with a look that made clear he would brook no further delay.
“Now choose.”