Once Upon a Kiss

chapter 3





Dominique tried in vain to calm her nerves.

Pacing the confines of the chamber she was to call her own until the ceremony, she found herself seething over the way Blaec d’Lucy had all but accused her. Nor could she so easily forget the manner in which he’d abandoned her here within his bedchamber—aye, his bedchamber, curse him to damnation! How would she bear it, with all of his possessions amassed about her?

“Pardon the inconvenience,” he’d said with very little remorse, “but as you are already aware, we did not expect you so soon. There are no other accommodations available. Nonetheless, you must feel free to make my chamber your own as I have no need of it.” His eyes mocked her.

“I shall need my coffers,” she’d informed him at once.

“Of course,” he’d said, sounding taxed. “Perchance you’ve yet another behest? Tell me, demoiselle, is there aught else I can do to assist in making my lady more comfortable?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.

She’d felt the condemned prisoner, given her last request in that moment. “Nay,” she’d answered petulantly. And then, “Naught save to send me my maid.”

His fingers had tightened about the edge of the door, his knuckles whitening—evidence to his displeasure.

“Please,” she added.

She could tell it pained him to aid her in any fashion. “Anything else, demoiselle?”

“Nay!” she said, though, in truth, she wished she could think of something just to vex him.

“Then you should have yourself a pleasant rest,” he’d imparted coolly, and with that, withdrew, turning and virtually slamming the heavy wooden door in her face. The wrathful sound of it rattled her bones.

Arrogant, misbegotten cur.

When she was mistress here, she would speak to Graeham; Perhaps Graeham would enfeoff his brother and remove him far from her presence once and for all!

And perhaps not... they did seem rather bound to each other, she reflected, nibbling irately at her lower lip. The very notion aggrieved her. Particularly so when she considered what little voice her mother had had in her own home. Truly she had hoped for more.

Looking about wearily, Dominique couldn’t help but note the simplicity of the chamber. Though it was large by most standards, all that occupied the room was a bed, a basin, and a brazier, along with a few coffers. Still, it was filled with him—all that he owned: his shield, his armor, his scent...

But that was ludicrous! she reproved herself, shuddering at the notion. How could she possibly know his scent? And yet somehow, she did.

She sat upon his bed, testing it, trying desperately not to think of it as his bed. Instead, she returned her thoughts to her mother. In truth, she scarcely thought of her mother—or her father, for that matter—for her mother had perished of fever when Dominique had been naught but a child. Her father died long before she came of age—murdered by the lord of Drakewich in a dispute over land in the eleventh year of Stephen’s reign. She shook her head at the injustice of it all—to be offered now in wedlock to the son of her father’s murderer! It was almost too much to bear.

And yet she could not quite summon the enmity her brother bore the d’Lucys—at least not Graeham. Her betrothed seemed amiable enough, and she’d been much too young to feel, much less understand, her childhood loss. Nay, she could bear no hatred toward him.

The Dragon was another matter entirely.

For him, though she knew him not at all, Dominique felt little but enmity. Despite tales to the contrary, she imagined he was the spitting image of his despised father—if not in coloring, then in temperament.

Be that as it may, she’d already determined to do what was necessary for the sake of peace. Too many at Amdel depended upon her. Moreover, she wanted her brother back—the William who had shared confidences with her, that sweet soul who had loved and laughed with her as a child, the boy who had lived for something other than revenge.

The very last thing she intended was to allow the Dragon to muddle their plans. If he meant to look for cause to mistrust them, then she vowed he’d never find it. She would make absolutely certain all appeared as it should. And henceforth, till he found it within his heart to trust them, she would slay him with kindness.

She only hoped he would feel reprehensible when the truth came to be known. Considering that, she struck the mattress with a clenched fist, thinking that the bastard Dragon probably knew naught of compunction, and she was likely wasting her time.

With a heartfelt sigh, she fell back upon the massive bed to await Alyss and the arrival of her coffers.

To her dismay, she waited a very long time.

“M’lady!” Alyss exclaimed with surprise, peeping in hours later to find Dominique lying in silence, staring at the ceiling. “Ye’re awake?”

“Aye,” Dominique said. “I could not sleep.”

Who could sleep surrounded by his effects?

Alyss entered, closing the door softly behind her as Dominique sat up.

Alyss was young and pretty, with dark hair that fell braided to her waist and a face that stole men’s attentions, but she was no true lady’s maid in truth. In fact, till merely a week before, she’d been her brother’s leman, and neither of them were as yet at ease with the new arrangement, for neither had Dominique ever had the luxury of someone to serve her. Her brother, however, hadn’t wished to leave Alyss behind, nor did he think it looked entirely proper for his sister to arrive without a maid.

“Forgive me,” Alyss entreated, her expression dejected. ‘They said were resting and that I should not disturb you.”

Dominique sighed wearily. “I tried but could not,” she repeated. And then, recalling the Dragon’s parting promise, that he would send Alyss forthwith, she asked, “Did the Dragon not find and speak with you?”

Alyss’ face seemed to suddenly animate at the mention of Drakewich’s Dragon. Her shoulders rose and she hugged herself like a lovelorn girl. “Oh, yea, m’lady! But William... er m’lord... as I said, he bade me not to disturb you.” She came forward excitedly and seated herself upon the bed beside Dominique in a most familiar way. And though Dominique was slowly becoming used to the assuming way in which Alyss conducted herself, it took her aback. “Oh, m’lady!” Alyss exclaimed. “Is he not magnificent!”

Dominique’s brows knit and her face screwed. “The Dragon?”

Clearly they were not speaking of the same man.

“Aye!” Alyss declared. “That face!” She bit at her lower lip, and shivered. “He has the face of a true man, m’lady. And those eyes...” She smiled at Dominique. “Lonely eyes, is what they are—but compassionate too.”

Dominique’s brow furrowed. “Compassionate?”

Could they possibly be speaking of the same man?

‘Fie, Alyss! How can you say such a thing when you know him not at all? That man is a Philistine!”

Alyss’ brows collided. “A Philistine, m’lady?”

“Aye, a Philistine—a—” Alyss looked so hopeful that Dominique shook her head in frustration, thinking it best not to enlighten her this once. She seemed too taken with the devil for Dominique to disappoint her. “Never mind,” she relented. She was simply being contrary anyway, she decided, and the last thing she wished was to spoil Alyss’ good humor. If Alyss thought the man compassionate, then so be it. She, herself, had thought him passionate. But passion was a far cry from compassion, she reminded herself.

Shrugging, Alyss whispered, “Oh... to know a man so gentle.” And her expression was wistful.

Dominique thought it a strange remark to make when Alyss and her brother had been lovers so long. She’d never known William to be precisely cruel, and in truth she would have thought him to be gentle with his lover, for he could be so generous when he so wished. A prickle raced down her spine at the turn of her thoughts and she wanted to ask Alyss, but refrained, for she knew it an impertinent thing to do and she didn’t still didn’t know Alyss well enough to speak so freely. Anyway, it was none of her concern, she told herself.

“Well, now,” Alyss entreated, leaping up from the bed. “What shall we do, m’lady? Shall we plait your hair, or what?”

It never ceased to amaze Dominique, the fervor with which Alyss served her. It was as though this were a great adventure for her, though truth to tell, Dominique would have thought it a finer thing to serve the master of the domain, and an affront to be lowered to serving his sister. Still, Alyss never complained.

And neither could Dominique, for Alyss tried so hard, and treated her kindly—much more like the sister she never had.

“I suppose I should change for the evening meal?” Dominique suggested. The fact that her gown had displeased him so greatly had absolutely naught to do with her desire to change, she told herself. She simply wished to.

“Oh, yea, m’lady!” Alyss exclaimed excitedly. “And we shall endeavor to make you absolutely irresistible for your betrothed. That’s a handsome one, as well,” she said, and sighed. “And you, m’lady, are a very, very fortunate woman, indeed!” And with that, Alyss proceeded at once to explore the coffers, searching for something suitable for Dominique to wear.

Dominique was loath to disappoint, so she said nothing at all, but the truth was that at the moment she felt anything but fortunate. She allowed Alyss to choose the gown, and then to dress her, and then when she could delay no longer, she made her way below stairs to the great hall, her legs trembling disgracefully at the mere notion of facing him again.