Once Upon a Kiss

chapter 16





The almoner had collected and distributed much of the previous night’s offerings, but Dominique felt it her duty to see that the villagers received more. After all, these would soon be her people—regardless of what she felt for their lord—and somehow she felt responsible after seeing their homes ablaze in the night. Many still worked diligently to repair their incinerated huts, while others searched for strays from their animals, gathering them together to rebuild their fences and cages.

Early this morn, Dominique had requested permission from Graeham to dispense items of need: blankets, clothing, and some food. Closeted with his odious brother, he’d refused to see her, but had granted his express permission for her to take whatever was necessary to them. In that, he’d been generous, as somehow she’d known he would be, but the fact that he continued to avoid her made her feel less than welcome in his home. Dominique couldn’t help but wonder, bitterly, that if he found her so repulsive, why he would risk the alliance. How could she inspire in one man such hatred, and the other such indifference?

God’s truth, but she was becoming so very confused.

Free to come and go as she chose, she conveyed what she could to the village and was surprised that they received her offerings with such mistrust. Truth to tell, they eyed her as though they expected her to hand them poison instead of the comforts she bore. Dominique didn’t care. Let them mistrust her if they would. For now. Soon enough they would see that she meant to be mistress here in every way—and that meant caring for them in the manner she’d never been able to for the villein at Amdel. Twas something she aspired to, and she would prove herself to them all.

Without being asked to, she began a stew of leeks and cabbage for one of the larger families, showing the woman, Maude, how to employ the most common spices to flavor the broth. While Dominique was no master of the simples, she certainly knew enough to enlighten them. Alyss, on the other hand, was quite skilled, and Dominique vowed to bring the maid along on her next visit. There would be much Alyss could teach them, Dominique was certain—including how to grow some of the more useful herbs themselves. Maude, for her part, stood guard over her shoulder, as though she expected Dominique to add a pinch of mandrake instead. No matter that she told herself she was not insulted, she was. She could not help but be.

Later, wearied of trying to prove herself to the parents, she played hide-and-seek with the children, keeping them occupied whilst their mothers and fathers labored to set things aright From the children, she received a more ardent welcome. In their innocence, they held no prejudice against her, and she found herself, for the first time in days, able to forget that she was an unwelcome stranger in their midst.

Still, their honesty was staggering, bewildering.

“My da says your devil brother burned our house,” one older boy told her.

The laughter died in Dominique’s throat. Caught in the middle of tying the scarf about the boy’s eyes, she unraveled the knot and whirled the lad about to face her. “Nay! ’Tis not so,” she told the lad, seizing him by the shoulders, trying to make him see the truth. “Your da is not right! My brother was with me during the fire—within the castle! Do you understand? He most certainly did not burn your homes!”

She released him when he nodded mutely, but her own expression remained stricken, for the damage was done. She could play no longer with her heart so heavy. God’s truth, but it seemed that when her brother was innocent, he was guilty still. It was unfair!

She offered the day’s farewells with a smile, though it never reached her heart. Even with hugs from the children and a penitent glance from the boy who had accused her brother, she could not regain her former resolve and lightheartedness. Nor could she so soon return to the castle. Instead, she mounted her palfrey and sought sanctuary in the distant meadow. There she dismounted and sat wearily upon the plush grass, and before she could stop them, tears sprang to her eyes.

It seemed hopeless. Could these people ever forget the bitter battles fought by their fathers and accept her as she was? She had been willing to lay her grudges to rest. It was her own father, after all, who had perished at the hands of Gilbert d’Lucy! If she could forget these things for the sake of peace... could not these people even try?

Dominique knew it was pointless to feel sorry for herself. She knew it would solve nothing, and yet she could scarcely keep the sadness and sense of loss—a loss she’d not even experienced at the death of her own father, at least not so acutely— from enveloping her. And then there was the loneliness. With William gone from Drakewich, she truly had no one.

No one at all.

Nor could William truly care for her when he’d left her here alone to endure as best she could in his enemy’s home. Nor had he promised he would return for her nuptials. On the contrary, he’d admitted that he could not stomach the sight of her with Graeham d’Lucy. It was as though she were being exiled. So, then, he would sacrifice her and abandon her so easily? Would he never again be able to bear the sight of her? What sort of an alliance was that to be?

It was no alliance but war, a little voice answered.

And she was its casualty.

Plucking a new blade of grass from its pale green sheath, she studied it, turning it between her fingers. Then, suddenly tossed the blade into the breeze and watched as it was carried away. Lifting her gaze toward Drakewich, she thought that, like the solitary blade, she was lost, caught in the wind between heaven and earth... or rather, hell.

As the blade fell to the ground in the distance, she knew that selfsame fate would be her own.

‘It was hell that awaited her.

A soft sob escaped her and was muffled at once, for as she glanced behind her to be certain she was alone, she caught sight of a figure on horseback, watching silently from the shadows of the woods.

Gasping in startle, she scrambled to her feet, her heart racing as she turned to face the rider.

She thought—God’s love—she could not be certain, but it looked to be William! She would recognize his odd helm from any distance, uncommon as it was. Made of a darker metal, with rivets and bands and a nose guard that fell well below his chin, dividing his face full in half, it was a sight that would have frightened her silly were it not so familiar. Yet it was, and the possibility that it might be William lifted her spirits at once.

Had he changed his mind? Had he returned?

Waving, Dominique hailed the rider, but the figure did not so much as stir. Yet she knew it was him—she knew it! Why he did not make himself known? It was him, she knew it. Tossing caution to the wind, she lifted her skirts and began to race toward him, but even as she closed the distance, the figure retreated into the trees. Dominique called out his name, and ran faster, though her sides ached with the exertion.

“William! Wait! William!”

She shouted to no avail, stopping and gulping in a breath as the rider disappeared completely from view, swallowed by the trees. Still, she was too close to simply stop where she stood. It was him. She knew it. It had to be! Once again she lifted her skirts and ran, stopping to catch her breath only when she entered the threshold of the woods. Unable to go farther, she leaned against a tree rather than collapse to her knees, resting as she took in her surroundings, seeking some sign of the rider.

He was gone.

Her side ached, and she clutched it, winded and disheartened.

The area was undisturbed, as though the horseman had been naught but an apparition. But it could not be...

The hairs at the back of her nape prickled, rising. She could not have imagined him.

She had seen a rider.

Shaking her head, she covered her face with her hands and gave way to a rare burst of hysterics. Had she wished so much for her brother’s return that she would imagine him here? God’s truth, but she thought she would go mad in this place alone!

“Looking for someone, demoiselle?”

Startled by the unanticipated voice, Dominique straightened at once, pushing herself from the tree to face Blaec d’Lucy. She frowned. Her tormenter. For an instant there was only silence between them as she composed herself. “You!” she exclaimed suddenly.

Like some doomster, he sat his mount, looking down at her, saying nothing, though his brows lifted, mocking her once again.

Her hackles rose, and her hands went to her hips in outrage. “It was you!” she accused him. “You all along! What right have you to stalk me this way?”

He cocked one brow higher. “Is that what I am doing?”

He sounded bored, as though he could not care a whit that she’d caught him spying. Dominique’s blush heightened with her outrage. “You know very well what you are doing, my lord! Tell me what it is you hoped to discover by following me—spying!” she accused outright. Let him be offended, if he would, for she had no desire to mince words.

“What is it you hoped to hide?” he countered, dismounting, tossing the destrier’s reins over its withers.

Dominique eyed him warily as he approached. And then it struck her that, for the first time, he’d not donned his raiment of war. Nor had he worn the ominous black. Instead, he’d worn a shorter, light gray tunic with simple blue embroidery, and dark blue hose. Nothing remarkable. But the breeches, unlike the ones he’d worn the day before, were shorter, and all but indiscernible beneath the tunic, leaving his hose completely exposed to view. Dominique had seen the fashion worn on occasion, though never quite so indecently. Having never been to court to witness the changing fashions, she was rarely subjected to such revealing sights. And her brother’s men—her brother, included—had not the coin to follow the newest trends. Praise God for that, for the sight of his near bare legs left her dumbfounded.

Standing before him now, faced with his state of dress, she forgot everything, forgot his scarcely veiled accusation, forgot her wariness, forgot her anger, forgot even her good breeding. Her gaze rose the length of his well-muscled calves to his perfectly delineated thighs, and she was struck speechless. “I...” She swallowed convulsively, her gaze returning to his face briefly and then back to his disclosed limbs.



A shudder coursed through Blaec at the look she gave him. “You what, demoiselle?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears. God curse him, she didn’t know what trouble she was courting with that look. Were he any other man... and she any other woman...

Christ... were she not to wed his brother...

It didn’t matter what she wore, or for that matter, that she was dirty after serving in the village and rollicking with the children, she was beautiful—too beautiful for his own good. He’d watched her from the castle walls, for it had struck him as odd that she’d wish to aid the villagers when it was her own brother who had caused so much destruction... or perhaps that was why she wished to help. Guilt was an effective motivator. Or at least, he’d begun to believe it was so until he’d spied her here, waiting—he’d not missed the rider on horseback, watching from the distance. Dominique must have known him, expected him, for she’d waved. But the rider had disappeared upon spotting Blaec’s approach. That she’d not realized he rode toward them told Blaec only that she’d lost all thought at the sight of her... lover, was he? The mere possibility sat like acid within his belly.

“You seem to be struck dumb of a sudden, Lady Dominique.” His jaw tightened with displeasure. “Was it something I said?”

Her gaze remained fixed upon his limbs. “Something you said,” she repeated. Her brows knit, and her tongue darted out to lap at her lush, full Lips.

Heat surged through his veins. “Lady Dominique...” Blaec shut his eyes, willing his own body to restraint. When he reopened them again, it was to find her staring still, and he shuddered, undone by the desire so evident in her brilliant blue eyes. Eyes that were too knowing by far. It was a gaze that enticed and teased, for she knew very well he could not have her.

Would not.

Did she tease him on purpose? He wondered.

It led him to wonder, too, though he had no right to, how oft she’d issued such blatant invitation before. It led him to wonder how oft such temptations were met. Once again, it led him to anger.

And then he reminded himself that he had every right to consider his brother’s interest. The very last thing he intended was to allow her to foist some bastard’s by-blow upon Graeham. Graeham was too accepting by far. His anger rose, and with it his determination to discover the truth about the little vixen standing so defiantly before him.

Who had she intended to meet... her lover, by God, or was it her brother’s spy?

Either possibility burned his gut raw.

She was no innocent, he vowed. Nothing about her bespoke it—not her too ripe bosom, nor her long, lean legs, made to wrap around a man’s waist in bawdy pleasure. Again he shuddered, more affected by the sight of her than he cared to acknowledge.

Was that, then, why William wished to hurry the ceremony? Was she no innocent? Was that why they’d come to Drakewich unannounced? Had they hoped to secure the alliance before her belly swelled with child? God damn the both of them!

He’d not realized he advanced upon her until he saw her retreat a step, back into the tree, and thwack the back of her head in her haste to evade him. She cried out, and tried to scurry away, but before she could flee, he lunged forward, pinning her between his arms against the oak tree. “I’ve warned you already, demoiselle... when you stir the fire, you risk being scalded by its flames.”



Dominique winced as he pressed her against the rough bark, but something fluttered deep within her at the intimate feel of his stone-hard body against her own. Every nerve in her body her came alive at his words of warning. His touch.

“That gaze of yours is a dangerous thing,” he said coldly, softly.

Dominique’s heart vaulted against her ribs. “I... I’ve no idea what you are saying. If I have looked at you any way at all, my lord, ’twas with disdain, and naught else!”

‘Truly?”

His husky whisper sent a shiver of alarm down her spine. Dominique felt her voice leaving her even as her lips parted to speak. “Aye,” she croaked. “’T-Tis the t-truth...”

He lowered his face till his lips hovered just above her own. Dominique felt herself grow cross-eyed as she stared at them in dread, remembering. Dear God, did he plan to kiss her now? Her heart tumbled with the thought.

Surely she did not want him to... did she?

His eyes darkened to smoke green. “Do you think me so dull- witted that I would believe you, demoiselle?” He pressed her more firmly against the tree, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

Dominique cried out at the brief touch of their lips, and averted her face, though something in the depths of her leapt to life in that instant. Liquid heat spread through her limbs like wildfire, burning... just as he’d warned it would. God’s mercy, she could not be feeling this... this feeling! Should not... could not... She shook her head in bewilderment, for she did. She wanted him to kiss her, God rot her soul. She was faithless... wanton...

“Who were you planning to meet here today?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly. Dominique could scarcely part her Lips—much less answer.

“Lady Dominique!” he snapped. “Who did you plan to meet?”

The meaning of his words penetrated the haze of her mind at last. Once again he mistrusted her, when she’d given him no reason to do so. Dominique turned her head sharply to face him.

“I planned to meet with no one!” she swore vehemently. “No one, do you hear me? Why do you accuse me yet again? It seems to me you are bound to believe the worst of me, my lord. What mischief is it you think I scheme?”

“Any number of things,” he murmured hatefully, his gaze unblinking, unrepentant. The cur! He cared not a whit that his words wounded her.

Dominique narrowed her eyes and glared at him. She wanted so desperately to lash out at him. And she would have, too, if his thighs against her own had not trapped her legs so mercilessly. She twisted furiously, trying to free herself, to no avail.

“God curse you, Blaec d’Lucy,” she railed. “God curse and rot you!”

He made some clucking sound with his tongue, admonishing her as though she were naught more than a naughty child. “Such language from the lady,” he said, his eyes piercing her. “Did I not know better, demoiselle, I would think you less than your breeding.”

“Oh!” Dominique twisted again, managing only to set him more fully against her, for he was as unmovable as solid stone. “You—are—truly—all that they say you are! You are despicable! Get off me, you arrogant beast!” She shoved at his chest, but he would not budge.

“I think not,” he said, hovering closer yet. His very nearness sent her pulses skittering wildly. “Not till I know for certain you come to my brother pure and untouched.”

Dominique screeched indignantly. Her brows collided. “Pure? Untouched! You black-hearted swine! Let me go! Get off—”

His lips covered hers with a swift brutality that sent lightning bolts racing through her entire body, ending her protests once and for all, and curling her toes inside her soft pointed shoes. Dominique meant to shove him away, she truly did, but her hands came about and clung to him instead. To her dismay, she could do nothing more, for her traitorous knees buckled beneath her as he claimed her mouth with a fierceness he was unprepared for.

She could only whimper as his tongue traced the outline of her lips, demanding entrance.



Blaec was determined. It was a madness within him now. He couldn’t stop himself, despite that he knew this was not his right. The sight of her, the feel of her against him, aroused him beyond rational thought. When she wrapped her arms about his neck and her fingers curled at his nape, he could only recall the lust, the white-hot need that surged through him like an explosion of fire.

God... when she parted her lips... he experienced triumph like a burst of lightning throughout his veins. His tongue thrust within her mouth, tasting, plundering—not a gentle invasion but a punishing one. The taste of her was sweet, much too sweet. Pressing more fully against her, he allowed her to feel his arousal, hoping to God she would thrust him away. God save them both, because now that he was touching her... kissing her... at last... he didn’t know if he could ever stop.

Ever.

She felt too good, too right in his arms.

God’s truth, he could not even remember the reason he’d begun this, nor what he’d hoped to prove. And she didn’t resist. He groaned in torment... in pleasure. His hand slid down to cup her bottom, lifting her against him more fully.



Dominique moaned low, scarcely aware that his hand crept lower still, down the length of

her leg, lifting her skirt clear to her thigh. How could she be so recklessly drawn to this man?

How could she ever go back? She was branded just as surely as she was lost. Branded by the flames of the Dragon’s breath... her soul, heart, body...

Nay... nay... but nay... how could this be? How could she yearn for a man she’d known so little time and mostly despised? How was it possible? Nay, she told herself.

“’Tis not,” she murmured, but her body called her a liar even as she said it, for it arched against him in shameless abandon, aching for his touch. Tears pricked at her eyes, burning, slipping silently from her closed lids. She was wicked, like her mother, and worse, for she did not even love this man. She could not. How could she crave the touch of the infamous, heartless Black Dragon? The man who had done naught but taunt and mistrust her at every turn?

The brother of her betrothed.

“Blaec... no... please...”



Like some distant call to arms, some part of Blaec heard the voice that summoned him back to reason. Her voice. Still he could not quite find his way through the black lust that clawed at his body, drove him to the brink of insanity.

And then suddenly his mind cleared and he thrust her away, panting heavily. Backing away from her as though she were sin incarnate, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Like some intoxicating poison, the taste of her lingered to torment him. And like some seductive enchantress, the sight of her beckoned to him still. Weak-kneed and glassy-eyed, she leaned against the oak for support, her breast heaving beneath her blue bliaut, and her lips rosy from his kiss, swelling, even as he watched. Evidence of how close he’d come...

Christ, what had he done?

Too much, and not enough.

He shook his head, resisting, for even now, even knowing he must walk away, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms again and lie with her right here.

God help him... even now... and if he so much as touched her again... he knew he would...

Their gazes held, locked, revealing too much.

Far too much.

Dominique’s heart leapt at what she saw there, and suddenly... she understood everything. Every moment that had transpired between them. Every word. Every look.

Everything.

With that first fated glance they’d shared in the bailey, he’d felt it, too. And he’d resisted, to no avail.

Her legs almost failed her. So jolted was she by the knowledge that she could barely catch her next breath.

His face flushed with angry color. “Damn you to hell,” he hissed, tearing his gaze away. “Damn me, as well!”

He spun toward his mount, closing the distance in a few angry strides, retrieving the reins and remounting hastily. Giving her one last baleful glance, he whirled his mount about, spurring it with a vengeance toward Drakewich. He rode as though wolves snarled at his heels.

Away from her.

Swallowing the knot that rose to strangle her, her eyes glazing with tears, Dominique watched him go... knowing in her heart that from this moment on... she was changed. Branded. There could be no denying it now... she loathed him—a low keening sound escaped her constricted throat as she acknowledged that she wanted him, as well. Sweet Mary, but she did! She slid down the tree, not caring that the bark might ruin her gown, wondering to God how such a thing could have happened.

Never could she have foreseen it—never!

Nor could she ever, ever have him.

Benumbed with shock, and trembling, she slid to the ground, her breasts heaving with sobs she would not free.

With nothing more than a simple kiss... their fates had been sealed.

And God have mercy upon both their souls.