Damien's Destiny (5 page)

She raised huge darkened eyes to his face.

“You know,” she whispered.

“I know he is a wicked man. One I’d not trust near anyone in my care. Not you, not Debby, nor one of my maids. He is evil, Toria. A truly evil man.”

She relaxed just a little.

“My lord, you do understand. Thank you, thank you.”

“I accept your thanks on one condition,” he said. “That from now on you call me Damien, as I’ve often requested.”

This was an intimacy she’d seemed reluctant to concede. As he stood unmoving before her, smiling but not touching her, she surrendered. With a smile that shattered his soul.

“Yes, Damien.”

Damien glowed. He felt as if all the angels above suddenly blessed him. He took her hand and tucked it on his arm and after the first hesitation, she stayed at his side.

He patted her hand and then put his own over hers.

“Let’s go find Debby and have dinner,” Damien said in his low alluring baritone. He was experienced enough to put every enthralling nuance into the words he could summon. He was so damn tired of restraining himself. If he didn’t move soon to make her his he felt he’d explode. All the longing and desire for her he’d suppressed for years felt like a giant firecracker in his stomach. Or a crab clutching at his insides. A crab with big claws.

He groaned.

Once again he briefly considered putting a love spell on her but immediately rejected the thought as unworthy of him. But oh, so tempting. If he let himself bewitch her she’d be his in an instant. He sighed and took his hand away. Touching her even slightly was just too damned difficult.

She smiled again, briefly to be sure, but still she went with him, her small hand remaining on his arm. She didn’t try to draw away.

He was winning but the slowness of his progress might turn him into a gibbering idiot.

* * * * *

They were all together in the parlor after dinner. Damien’s cook was excellent and Toria generally made her pleasure evident. Three years at a girl’s school gave her a deep appreciation of the tarts and soufflés she’d learned to relish at Tregaron. She mentioned the unappetizing fare at school frequently but also the friends she’d made. She talked freely about her classes and her teachers. She never referred at all to the time before her school years. It was as if she’d had no life before first waking in the bedroom at Tregaron.

Damien worried about her eventually healing unless she acknowledged her distressed past but grew ever more reluctant to force the issue.

Suddenly Jason knocked on the open door and then entered. His eyes went first to Lady Debora and then immediately to Damien. Damien had noticed this more than once and wondered if his good friend loved his sister. Personally he’d delight in an alliance between the two of them, although Debbie treated Jason like another brother. Still, they were all close friends and Damien now invited Jason to be seated.

“Could we persuade you to make a fourth, Jason? These girls are winning all my matchsticks. They’re both wicked players, I’m sorry to tell you.”

Debby swatted her brother’s arm. “You wretch, Damien. I know perfectly well if we were playing for guineas instead of matches it would be a different story.”

Damien raised his eyebrows in a display of complete ignorance. “How can you doubt me, Debby? You know I never cheat.”

She laughed. “I don’t suppose it’s cheating not to play at top form. Not quite, anyway.”

Damien put down his cards as he caught Jason’s serious expression.

“Do you want to go to my study, Jason? We missed you at dinner, incidentally.”

As his good friend Jason had a permanent invitation to dine with them, although he rarely accepted.

Jason shook his head. “No, let’s stay here. The Lady Debora will be interested in this news as well.”

He took a chair and accepted coffee from the footman serving them.

So it did not concern Toria. Reassured, Damien waited.

“Raphael has been captured by natives in South Africa. The insurgent forces are holding him hostage. They seem to know he is your good friend.”

Debora gasped and Damien shot to his feet.

“Have they informed the Duke of Essingdon?”

“Yes,” Jason answered. “They sent the message to him first. If my information is correct the honorable Duke laughed as he crumpled the message and threw it on the floor.”

Damien didn’t have a doubt Jason was correct.

“Damn the Duke’s unforgiving soul. Just because Rafe didn’t turn out in his image he’s rejected his only son once again.”

Even in his distress, Damien didn’t miss noticing Debora turn white, grasping at the arms of her chair. So Rafe was the way her heart turned. Damien stowed the thought away even as he felt pity for Jason.

Damien, Raphael and Jason had been inseparable during a good part of their lives. Meeting when youngsters at Eton, they’d banded to keep each other from the cruelty of some upper classmen—Damien, then Viscount Hunter, Marquis Chittenden, son of the Duke of Essingdon and the Hon. Jason Manning, son of Viscount Darton. Most of the bullies had learned picking on one of them brought the other two punching and fighting to protect their friend. Damien had been so enchanted to have staunch allies he’d forced himself to rely on them instead of his latent abilities. Only once had he slipped and used his mage’s power.

The class bully had a much younger boy pinned against the wall. His fist was drawn back and Damien walked by. Without much thought he changed the bully into a squalling infant.

Damien looked at the young lad still cringing against the wall, his eyes huge and his fear changed into terror and awe but scarcely abated. Damien sighed and patted his skinny shoulder.

“He’s having a fit of some kind, Willy but don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t do to mention this to anyone, just run. He’ll recover but stay away from him. Don’t let yourself be caught by this young tough again.”

Willy turned away, obviously shaken to the core.

“Forget about this, Willy but call me if you need me.”

He sealed the child’s memory, knowing the incident would soon be forgotten. Then he looked up to see his father standing by. His handsome, loving father, with an unprecedented look of sternness clouding the face so similar to Damien’s own.

“Would you tell me what you have in mind, son?” He nudged the screaming baby with the toe of his boot and it fell silent.

“Hello, sir. I meant to show him what being helpless felt like. I didn’t intend to leave him that way.”

His father’s face cleared. “I suppose I could have checked your mind and found out but you know we never do so with a loved one. That’s a fair enough reason, I’ll grant you. Just as long as you remember the responsibility that goes with your power and always use it for good. I approve of answering such a provocation. This one’s a despicable bully. Just bring him back quickly. It’s easier to retransform someone if you do it soon.”

His father disappeared and Damien changed the infant back to a silent and now terrified boy. He gave one look at Damien and then wheeled and ran. Doubtless thinking his mind was playing tricks on him but chastened and hopefully a bit more kind.

Damien sat down on the grass and put his head in his hands. A transformation, or any extreme use of his powers, usually left him exhausted.

He heard Rafe’s voice and looked up to see Rafe and Jason staring at him.

“My God, Damien, is this what you meant when you told us you were a mage?”

Well, hell
.

Damien essayed a tired, wry grin. “I take it you saw the whole thing. Yes, that’s part of it. I did try to warn you.”

Jason shook his head, still in apparent disbelief. “You did, Damien and you told us you had Merlin’s blood in your veins. I distinctly heard you talking to your father but I couldn’t see him. Your father was a mage too?”

“Almost all the males in my direct line are. My father’s quite able to visit me when I need him. Please don’t let this change things between us. I need friends as much as anyone. ”

Jase and Rafe lowered themselves to the grass beside him.

“It’s hard to believe, Damien and maybe even harder to accept. Do you do this transformation thing often?”

Obviously his good friends were worried he’d change them into a toad if they angered him. They didn’t want such thoughts but there they were. He suppressed his grin with a sigh. To continue in friendship they must understand and respect him for what he was.

“I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry you witnessed that. I am what I am. I will promise never to invade your privacy in any way, or to help you out of even a bad situation unless you call me in your mind and ask me to intervene. I hope my solemn vow reassures you enough to let us keep on being friends.”

There was a few moments’ silence and then Rafe and Jason looked at each other.

Rafe spoke first. “Good enough for me. I’ve never known you to break your word. Shall we all go to my room and tackle the latest Latin lesson? I purely hate Latin.”

“We both know you do, Rafe.” Jason grinned “This is about the hundredth time I’ve heard you say those very words. Or maybe it’s one hundred and one.”

Jason jumped to his feet and held out his hand to Damien.

“Hope you want to come too, Damien. You’re better than either of us at Latin, blast your hide.”

They marched away together, Damien with a song in his soul. His friends understood him better and were still his friends. May he always use Merlin’s magic to their advantage.

And so the three had formed a lasting bond.

He had never exercised his power in front of them again. He hoped they’d buried the memory far in the back of their minds.

Damien, Rafe and Jase. The three had become much respected and little challenged at Eton and then at Oxford. Each of them had always known he could ask anything of the others.

Damien had been forever grateful he’d restrained his mage’s magic during that time. He was never again tempted to turn the bullies to a helpless state just to teach them feeling helpless can hurt. He learned to use his fists in ways he’d not suspected he could, for one thing. Not only had he come to rely more on his own strength but such friends as Jason and Rafe were beyond compare. He didn’t want to chance losing them. He would do anything for either of them.

Chapter Four

Damien now concentrated completely on what Jason was saying.

“How did it happen, Jase? Where was Rafe when he was captured?”

Damien’s voice was mild but his knuckles whitened as he grasped the arms of his chair. He didn’t think it necessary to mention he’d just heard Rafe’s voice in his head, asking for help from his friend.

“From what I can gather the African leader, Lobengula, captured him easily when Rafe went to him in peace. Rafe was actually trying to join Lobengula’s group and help the natives fight against Cecil Rhodes. Rafe seems to often get into trouble taking the side of the underdog. I’d guess Lobengula has been tricked too many times to believe Rafe is sincerely on his side, although at least he didn’t kill him. He seems to have treated him with little respect though. It’s essential to rescue him.”

Damien winced. Jason didn’t want to tell the women in so many words Rafe was probably being tortured.

“How much ransom will it take?” Damien asked. He kept his voice quiet but Toria stared at his set face and shivered.

“A great deal, I’m afraid. Will you permit me to deliver the money for you? I know you can’t go yourself.”

Damien didn’t answer for a while. The others waited, knowing he was debating what to do. As for Damien, his thoughts tumbled one over the other. He longed to go himself to save Rafe. Rafe must have gone to the British part of South Africa, probably Cape Colony and traveled inland to Mashonaland. Damien’s skills, both medical and magical, might make the vital difference. But he couldn’t leave Toria for the length of time it would surely take. The rescuer would have to go deep into South Africa, a hazardous journey and a long one. In no way could he possibly subject Toria to such a journey. The only choice he had was to stay away from her and keep her safe while Jason went in his place.

He firmed his jaw and finally spoke.

“We’d better plan, then. I think the quickest way is for you to sail directly from Dover.”

Jason showed his relief he’d been chosen by a slight loosening of his shoulders.

Damien continued thinking out loud.

“My yacht is much too small for such a long trip. However, I’m friends with the captain of a larger yacht renting out for cruises through the Greek Islands. As I recall, his boat has berths for six. He’ll be glad to accommodate me if he can. He happens to feel in debt to me. We’ll hope he’s free. But I’ll phone the harbor master and find out if he’s there.”

Jason knew better than to ask what the favor had been. To show such complete confidence in a busy man’s cooperation meant the support had been significant. Probably something minor like rescuing a member of the captain’s family, if he had to make a guess. And thank the angels Damien had possessed the money and foresight to install a phone in this remote location. He could check quickly. Around London phones were ever more evident but they were rare here on the outskirts of Dover.