Page 6 of Only You
‘Spirited as ever,’ his friend replied, grinning proudly. ‘If her mother were here, she’d probably have a fit about how much she takes after me. Were she a boy, she’d have been a terrific soldier, but we will have to settle for finding her a strong husband.’ The men shared a laugh before turning to Damien.
‘Damien, this is Kwame Kouassi, one of our liaisons from the Ivory Coast.’
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ Damien said gruffly nodding once.
Kwame looked at him curiously before chuckling.
‘The pleasure is mine,’ he replied. He gestured to some seats nearby. Damien and the general sat down on the sofa and Kwame sat down on an armchair in front of it. ‘Your general speaks highly of you and your skill. I have been a first-hand witness to them through your training sessions over the years and must admit, I am impressed.’
‘Thank you.’ Damien remained stoic, unsurprised by the common praise. The words had lost their lustre years ago. What did raise an alarm was the mention of ‘years’, because while Damien prided himself on being a top-notch soldier, he’d never seen Kwame before. Why wouldn’t he make himself known?
‘General Roulet has also told me that money isn’t as common as it once was. We are indeed much removed from the days of Versailles.’ Kwame chuckled as Damien tensed at the words. ‘Be still, young man. I mean no mockery. I am simply here to present a quite lucrative offer.’
‘Of that, I have no doubt,’ Damien said, his eyes lingering on the art that littered the walls. ‘Though it begs the question of what could be so important to protect?’
Kwame raised a brow before chuckling. ‘Perhaps your general has not kept you well informed.’ Damien clenched his jaw as Kwame clarified, ‘My home country is Côte d’Ivoire.’
Ah, Damien thought,the new colony. He had seen headlines about the country in the news years ago, a few of his comrades being stationed there. He had inquired about doing the same to General Roulet, but the general was adamant about keeping him in France.
‘France has been working to… mend its international relations with us for the past few decades with little success until I came along,’ Kwame continued. ‘You see, young man, there would be no Côte d’Ivoire without me, my land, and my influence with the Grand-Bassam kings. Cousins of cousins and whatnot. Bloodlines are a tricky thing, don’t you agree, Captain? Anyway, not all my countrymen agree with my position and that’s caused some… strain, to put it lightly.’
He didn’t want to be seen, Damien decided right then. His statement alone showed that he was clever, too clever to be seen as a shiny object of the French upper crust. They may have been a hundred years past the days of the guillotine, but some were still fond of the thought.
He was also sure Kwame knew of his orphan roots and put him firmly in his place with that one statement. Kwame was someone to know while Damien would never be. It was a fact and a warning.
‘So, you need protection,’ Damien said, ignoring the slight.
‘Not quite.’ He hesitated, before intertwining his fingers. ‘As I mentioned earlier, I have a daughter who is quite rambunctious, but like all women, must get married. Now, while there are plenty who want her hand back home, I am well aware that my countrymen don’t see the exchange as an opportunity as I have and may see her as an opportunity to seek revenge on me. Luckily, there have also been some requests here that have piqued my interest, but I have my concerns.
‘Let’s not feign ignorance, gentlemen. There will be plenty of people who will embrace her for her wealth while shunning her for her African roots. Now, while she can be trained to be a proper French lady, I have a feeling it would help tremendously if she were to be surrounded by the right company and I need both of you for that to happen.’
‘I agree,’ Roulet said, eyes darkening. ‘You need not worry. I will keep her under my care, and Damien will help ensure she is not taken advantage of.’
Damien clenched his jaw to hold back his immediate refusal. He had assumed he would help with assembling a team, helping the man’s soldiers adjust to the French system, perhaps even provide some training. Instead, he was being demoted to aguard. No, a glorified chaperone! For a landowner’s daughter, no less. Yet, he couldn’t say no right after Roulet’s agreement.
At least, not yet.
‘Thank you, my friend. And I hope you understand, Captain Damien, this is a different battle than you are used to,’ Kwame continued. ‘You must always practise discretion and vigilance. While not technically royalty, she will be the target of many, some more surprising than others. Should you make a mistake, she will pay the price. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Damien reluctantly answered. ‘I… promise to protect her.’
Kwame smirked. ‘Good. Now, we just have to tell her.’
Damien let himself fall a few steps behind the two. He didn’t want Kwame to see even a hint of his anger. All his preparation, the years of literal sweat and blood, all thrown down the drain. He could already feel his skills withering away as Kwame led them into the expansive garden behind the house.
She’s probably sewing or picking flowers.
However, he heard the familiar sound of metal clashing, instead. The whistle of the air being cut, and feet shifting among the dirt. It sounded as if someone were… fighting?
Sure enough, as they rounded the corner, he saw a young woman holding a foil, sparring with one of her father’s soldiers. Only she wore proper protective clothing while the man looked as if he rolled out of bed, his tunic rumpled and smudged with dirt. The two moved around the garden, the girl was surprisingly agile, her fencing skirt allowing her to move fluidly.
He watched her parry with calculating eyes. She had good speed and instincts, but her balance needed improvement. She tended to lean forward, and hunched her shoulders in defence, causing her to sway between moves. She had a good foundation but for the more complicated manoeuvres, she seemed unsure, hesitant. Nothing a couple of adjustments and more practice couldn’t change. Perhaps she should…
‘Keep your back straight,’ he called out.
The girl narrowly dodged the soldier’s lunge before stepping back and pulling off her mask. Her curly hair spilling over her shoulder and her cheeks two red spots from exertion, she looked at Damien.
A shot of electricity ran through him as their eyes met. She was beautiful, something he expected. She was not as statuesque as her father, although her hazel eyes were just as demanding, hints of muscle showing along her arms, her brown skin unblemished, and lips enviably full.Pretty girl, he thought.
