February 4th, 2019

Hello! Okay, so I know I suck. I haven't updated in FOREVER and this is a much shorter chapter than you're used to. Time has just decided it doesn't like me and seems to disappear before I know it. That said, I knew I needed to get an update soon and, SURPRISE, I'll be updating another chapter hopefully in the next week or so. That one will be much longer and I think will move the story forward a lot more and this one, but it's necessary. I hope the events that take place will give you a better idea of what Damien is up against when it comes to his family and how far he's willing to go to get Amar and Hanna back. Please read and review3 -Nicole

Unexpected Desire ch 12

Gideon Maddock's POV

Back at Maddock Manor, Gideon Maddock frantically paced the weathered carpet of his chambers, mumbling incoherently to himself. His red satin robe hung loose off his broad shoulders and his slippered feet scuffed against the floor. The dim light in the room made the shadows under his eyes seem much darker. Ezekiel, his chief commander, stood a few feet away, eyes following his lord's erratic movements. His second in command had just left the room after reporting Damien's last whereabouts.

Gideon's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, shaking his head back and forth, as if denying the very plausibility of what he had just heard. He can't do it, he just can't do it.

Ezekiel's gaze was unwavering. He stood at the edge of the carpet, dressed in his chainmail and boots. With one hand, he gripped his helmet to his waist, and with the other, he braced his spear against the floor. Despite his lord's unsteady state, he spoke with conviction. "My lord, we must move quickly if we're to stop this imprudence."

"Silence!" Gideon shrieked, hands grabbing at his hair. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I need to think." Ezekiel bowed his head and waited.

Gideon continued to pace. His rooms were spacious and ornate, second only to the grand ballroom. There were two levels, the upper held his bed, dresser, and a fireplace. The lower level had several large chests, his trophy case, and a second, larger fireplace, all standing on the giant Persian rug on which the two men now stood.

Gideon finally came to a stop in the middle of the room. He straightened and seemed to take a deep breath before smoothing his hair back and clasping his hands behind his back. He didn't immediately turn, but stared straight ahead, pondering something. His mouth had a grim set to it, and his brows drew low over his eyes. The two men stood there for a time as Gideon seemed to grapple with something inside himself, until finally coming to a conclusion. When he turned, Ezekiel raised his eyes to meet Gideon's, which were eerily similar to his son's. The lord was, in fact, an older version of Damien, tall, well built, head full of silky, dark locks, and clear, sea-green eyes. Moments ago, those eyes resembled a murky, bottomless bay, but now were full with a certain clarity. Gideon stared at his chief commander, and said in a level tone, "You're sure your lieutenant wasn't spotted?"

"I am certain, my lord."

"And he saw Damien meet with Gregory?"

"Aye, my lord." Ezekiel stepped forward, his boots silent on the multi-colored carpet. "He was able to sit at a table close to theirs, and he overheard most of what was exchanged. Gregory demanded money for the two women. Damien plead for their lives, but ultimately agreed to pay the ransom."

Gideon nodded and resumed pacing, keeping his hands folded behind his back. He stood in front of his trophy case. A tall, beautifully polished cherry-wood cabinet, holding his array of weaponry. Mounted at the top was his broadsword. He carefully lifted it from its hook, admiring the knick-free blade. It had been years since he'd used it, even in a simple sparring, yet the weight was still familiar in his hand. He turned, eyes flicking toward Ezekiel. He balanced the sword on his open palms and slowly approached him. Unwavering, Ezekiel held his gaze. He was the bravest man Gideon had ever known, and he'd been with him years before he became the lord of the town. Gideon trusted him with his life and the well being of the city.

"When my son returns, it will be to steal from the House of Maddock." Gideon stopped a few feet away and leveled his gaze. "We cannot allow that."

Never breaking contact, Ezekiel shook his head. "No, sir."

"When Damien steps foot on the grounds, I want your men, your best men, to grab him. Incapacitate him, if need be, but he will need to be detained."

"Understood, my lord."

"He will be locked in one of the servant's quarters, furthest from the front gates."

"Yes, sir."

"Do not release him until I give the word. Is that clear?"

"Completely."

Gideon nodded. "Then see to it."

Ezekiel bowed once more and left the room to give the orders to his men. The lord watched the door close and released a long sigh. He raised his sword again, eyes running over the untarnished steel, past the worn, black leather grip, to the pommel at the end of the hilt. The Maddock family crest, a griffin, was engraved in the metal; still freshly polished, as if brand new. Gideon whipped the sword back and forth, remembering when he had first learned how to hold it. He'd been around Elias' age when he died.