Once Upon a Kiss

chapter 24





Dominique stepped forward, desperate to aid them if she could. She wrung her hands, feeling dizzy with the thoughts that whirled through her mind. William could not have done this thing... he could not have. She refused to believe that he would... There had to be some mistake.

“You... you must allow Alyss to tend him,” she entreated. “Leave the priest for those who are dead.”

Though she was aware that all eyes fell upon her suddenly, she felt only his.

His condemning glare tore at her heart.

“Alyss would know what is best for him,” she reasoned, her eyes stinging with hot tears.

“Why should I trust your brother’s whore?” Blaec barked at her, his green eyes glittering coldly.

Dominique gulped in a breath, taken aback by his anger. She tried to catch her next breath and found a sob caught in her throat. “She is...” She blinked back tears, unable to find a response for the truth. “She is skilled in the simples…” She averted her gaze, fighting back bitter tears. “I swear to you, my lord...” Her voice faltered and her lips trembled. She shook her head miserably, covering her mouth as she met his gaze once more, her eyes pleading with him. “Alyss would no more harm him than she would... than she would me. Let her tend him... please...”

For a moment he said nothing, though his eyes impaled her, and then he said evenly, “It seems there is little choice, demoiselle, for Drakewich has no physic in residence. Fetch her, then, and quickly,” he snapped.

Dominique nodded and turned to go at once, relieved to leave his presence, for her heart was breaking and she wanted no eyes to witness her pain.

He blamed her, she knew.

She could see it in his eyes.

“Tell her this for me, Lady Dominique,” he called after her, stopping her cold with the scarcely veiled malevolence in his tone. “Should he die by her hands... I will lay her head upon a pike beside that of your brother’s. Tell her that, if you would... and then, while you are at it, demoiselle, pray to God for your brother’s black soul, because ’tis his blood I will seek come tomorrow’s first light.”

Dominique’s limbs threatened to fail her, but she nodded jerkily, choking back a sob at his hateful words. To think that only moments before they had laughed together... hoped together. In anguish, she covered her mouth with her hand as she fled the chamber.

Jesu, but she could not bear it. This could not be happening. Her brother had not done this to Graeham! He could not have!

Because he would have known that he would place her at risk with his actions. And he would not do so.

Would he?

Nay, but there had to be some other explanation.

With that self-assurance, she swiped the tears from her face, and vowed that as soon as she found and apprised Alyss of her duties, she would set out to discover the truth.

Even if it meant going to William.

There was no way she could stand idly by and allow Blaec to kill her brother for some imagined wrong. She had to warn him.

More than that, even, she had to know the truth.





“He but sleeps, m’lord,” Alyss said, coming to stand timidly before him, “The wound at his breast is deep, but he is strong and has the will to live.”

Relief sucked the breath from Blaec, choking off whatever words he might have spoken. Though he tried, he could not find his voice. He nodded.

Hanging her head, taking in a visibly shaky breath, the maid reached into her apron, hesitating, and then produced a vial for him. “I...” She took another shuddering breath and then handed him the ampule for his inspection. “You must give this to him... a few drops when he awakens,” she instructed him, swallowing, meeting his gaze with some difficulty. “But no more than a few...”

Blaec examined the small liquid-filled vial, and then returned his gaze to hers, narrowing his eyes warily. “What is it?”

She held his gaze, he noted, even as he saw her flinch at his question. “T-Tincture of hemlock, m-m’lord.”

Blaec arched a brow at her, his Lips thinning at her disclosure. “You carry hemlock about with you?” he inquired suspiciously. “Why?”

Her face reddened at the question, and she averted her gaze, shrugging nervously, and then shaking her head. And then again she met his gaze, lifting her chin, her eyes revealing that same cornered stare he’d spied in them once before... the night he’d questioned her about her bruises.

“’Twas g-given to me,” she answered softly, guiltily.

“Given to you?”

She closed her eyes, and shivered, nodding jerkily. “Aye, m’lord. Given to me.”

God help him, he understood, and once again rage barreled through him.

“Goddamned bastard!”

He’d intended all along to murder Graeham. His thoughts fled back to the forest... and then to the mead Dominique had been brewing... and he was afraid to hear any more lest he learn what he did not wish to know.

Still... he had to discern the extent of their treachery—had to be certain. “William gave it to you, Alyss?”

She would not look at him now. “Aye, m’lord.”

Blaec braced himself, and then demanded, “Does your mistress know this?” Though he told himself his heart was hardened against her, he held his breath for her answer.

She shook her head, meeting his gaze, and said with quiet certainty, “Nay, m’lord, she does not.”

He felt the breath leave his lungs—he wanted to believe her. Too much. For Graeham’s sake, he could not allow himself to be led blindly. Not when Graeham’s life depended upon his prudence. “And why do you tell me this now?” he asked skeptically, unable as of yet to perceive her motives.

“Because, m’lord…” She glanced at Graeham’s body, lying so still upon his bed, and then back into his eyes. “Because I cannot do it—and he will need the tincture when he wakens, m’lord. Hemlock is good for pain, as well, but in small doses. Yet...”

“Speak,” he commanded her impatiently. “Now is not the time to hold your tongue, woman.”

“Aye... well... you see... too little will not serve him at all... though too much might leave him lame—or even kill him, as you well know… and this recipe... ’tis particularly dangerous, for I-I prepared it strong... and... and I did not wish to risk it... not if...”

He cocked a brow. “Not if I meant to place your head on a pike?” he finished for her.

She blinked, but did not turn away.

“I see.” With some reservation, he handed the vial back to her, his face as rigid as stone. He went to his brother’s side, lifting the coverlet up, as though to shelter him from the draft.

His fingers lingered upon his brother’s hand, the hand he had once sworn fealty to.

She hadn’t had to tell him anything at all, he acknowledged. She might have simply used the tincture while his back was turned... or once he was healed, even... once she no longer thought herself at risk. “Do you love the bastard?” he asked her suddenly, his tone calm despite his raging fury.

For an instant, she didn’t respond. And then she replied emphatically, “Nay, m’lord. He... he did beat me oft.”

He sensed the truth in the embittered way she said the last, but he demanded ruthlessly, “Was it he, Alyss, who gave you those bruises I witnessed?”

He could tell it was a difficult question for her to reply to, for she hesitated, but she did so at last, swallowing before she spoke. “Aye, m’lord. ’Twas he, though I beg you not to tell m’lady. She does not know. She believes him nobler than he is, and I would spare her the truth. He is all she has—all she has ever known.”

“I see,” he said. And then, “Do you wish my protection, Alyss?” He met her gaze at last. Her eyes were glassy, and her youthful features seemed to have aged since the last time he glanced at her.

He saw the hope kindle in her eyes. “You would do so, m’lord? You would do this... for me?” She bit her lip, until he thought it would bleed.

For a moment there was silence between them, and then he told her, swallowing hard, “Aye... only, do what you must.” He glanced down at his brother, his eyes glazed and wounded. He met her eyes once more. “I place my trust in you, Alyss,” he told her soberly, shaking his head, his eyes narrowing. “Do not fail me, and if he lives, I will grant you leave to remain at Drakewich.”

Her expression twisted with emotion. “Thank you, m’lord! Thank you! I swear I will not fail you, m’lord!”

“Though hear me well, Alyss… if he dies,” Blaec continued, meaning every word he was about to say, despite the mildness of his tone, “I will indeed place your head upon that pike—better yet, I will return you to that bloody bastard and tell him you have betrayed his confidence.”

She swallowed visibly. “Aye, m’lord... I’ll not fail you,” she vowed. “I swear it.”

“See that you do not,” he warned, and then he stepped back to allow her to minister to his brother, though he fully intended to watch over her every moment.

She came forward at once, eagerly, clutching the ampule within her fist, and Blaec silently prayed.