Once Upon a Kiss (27 page)

“What,
then, prithee?”

Graeham
shrugged, searching for a plausible reason, one not quite so complicated, or
embarrassing, as the truth. He shook his head. “I’ve a calling for the church,”
he said rather unassertively, his expression screwing.

“Good
God, man! You must have one better than that!”

Graeham
shook his head. “I fear not, sire.”

Stephen
sighed and shook his head. “Very well, then, d’Lucy. Have it as you
will—though I wish you success in convincing your brother, for I doubt he
will be as accepting as I.”

Graeham
smiled. “I’m certain I shall manage, sire.”

Stephen
chortled. “Aye—smooth-tongued bastard that you are.” Once again, he waved
Graeham up from his knees, and then placed an arm about Graeham’s shoulders,
leading him toward the door. “Tell me, then... does this mean I will have yet
another God-spouting prelate fighting to save my soul?”

Graeham
laughed, and cocked his head. “Perhaps, sire, though I vow to give you no more
grief than the Empress’ minions have.”

Stephen
laughed outright and whacked him upon the back. “Ye God! I would have you
quartered,” he swore emphatically. “I would indeed!”

William’s
mood was black—blacker yet for the news he’d just received—from the
king, no less! Though he tried to keep his calm, he stormed from the king’s
apartments, bursting out into the sunlight, his face a mask of stone, lest
anyone’s eyes were upon him.

That
whoreson d’Lucy! What possible reason could the fool have for giving up his
lands to his infernal brother? If he had dared so much as touch Dominique
wrongly... he would strangle the imbecile with his bare hands. If he thought for
one instant that he, having given up his holdings, was going to wed with
Dominique still, then he was truly mad!

At the
very least, he was a fool! As was Stephen for granting the petition, for Blaec
d’Lucy’s loyalties lay with no other save his brother. His interests were
purely his own. And his power, while it had been harnessed beneath his
brother’s thumb, was incontestable. There would be no bounds to his greed now
that his business was his own.

And
Blaec! God damn the man to hell! William would as lief strangle Dominique
himself, rather than allow the bastard to touch her. The very last thing he
intended was to allow Blaec d’Lucy to usurp what was his. Graeham, he could
have borne—Blaec was another matter entirely, for he could well recall
the way Blaec had gazed at Dominique. No duty there. Nay, for he recognized
lust when he saw it

Damn
d’Lucy!

It had
been all William could do to mask his anger when speaking to the
king—king, bah! the man had no wisdom at all for the dispensation of
justice. Nor had he the stomach to rule as he might. Had not England suffered
enough these nineteen winters? Stephen was a spineless fool, wanting to please
everyone, and pleasing no one at all. At least Henry had known to choose
allies. Stephen was little more than an idiot.

Well,
by damn, if Stephen could not execute justice, then William was perfectly
capable of doing so—and more than ready, as well.

Perhaps
all was not lost... yet. Aye, perchance all that was needed now was a reverse
in plans. Perhaps Dominique might still become lady of Drakewich.
His
lady of
Drakewich.

Aye,
perhaps.

But
then... if it proved to be so, and Blaec d’Lucy had bedded her... if he had so
much as touched her... mere poison alone would not be a fitting enough death. By
the eyes of Christ, he would personally rip out Blaec d’Lucy’s entrails and
feed them to his accursed buteo!

All
Dominique needed do was walk into a room to command attention—even
dressed as she was in her threadbare blue bliaut, all eyes followed her. Her
silky mane, rich and full, cascaded behind her as she lifted her skirts and
raced across the hall, oblivious to his and the steward’s presence. She didn’t
see him even as she rushed past them toward the stairwell, and Blaec was
hard-pressed to listen to the steward’s report as he watched her—as was
the steward. The man struggled to keep his train of thought, he couldn’t help
but note. Still his mood was too good to fault the fellow for what he himself
could not help.

Excusing
himself once she disappeared from view, he followed her, racing up the tower
steps after her, his pace swift but silent, for he intended to surprise her.

He
quickly overcame her stride, hooking his arm about her waist, lifting her, and
hauling her up the stairs along with him. She gave a small shriek of surprise.
“You are being made off with,” he told her, chuckling. He carried her into the
nearest doorway.

Dominique
shrieked indignantly. “Not here!” she exclaimed.

He set
her upon her feet, grinning. “Ah, now, but where is there better a place for
solitude?”

“Aye,
but ’tis the garderobe!” Dominique returned.

He
lifted his chin, gazing with a look of surprise about the small chamber. “Is
that what it is?” he asked, sniffing. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh,
you!” Dominique laughed and shoved him away, trying to evade him. “God’s truth,
but I think you are mad!” she said with certainty.

He
caught her, backing her once more against the wall. His lips curved roguishly.
“Mad for you,” he agreed readily. He arched a brow.

Dominique
laughed softly. “You are a wicked, wicked man,” she said, berating him.

“Well,
there you have it…” He brushed her hair from her shoulder and bent to peck her
neck with his lips. “And since we are here...”

Dominique
gasped. “I do not think I could bear the odor, my lord!”

Lest
she escape him, he pinned her to the wall, bracing his arms on either side of
her. “I smell only the fragrance of your body,” he murmured silkily, leaning
into her, nuzzling her hair. One knee went between her legs, lifting up against
her.

Dominique
inhaled sharply at the gesture. “I cannot be certain, my lord,” she said on a
sigh, her head lolling to one side, “but I believe you have only just insulted
me...” He placed a hand upon her breast, and she murmured softly.

The
door made to open suddenly, and she stifled a cry of surprise, her head jerking
up. Blaec’s arm thrust out before it could open to reveal them, ramming it shut
once more. “ ’Tis occupied,” he called out.

For an
instant, there was only silence from the other side of the door. “Sorry, my
lord,” answered a male voice.

“Good God,
can a man not relieve himself in peace?” Blaec added for good measure, smiling
for Dominique’s benefit.

Dominique
stifled a gasp, her eyes widening at his crudeness.

“Aye,
my lord,” came the chagrined reply from beyond the door, and then the sound of retreating
footsteps.

She
lifted a hand to cover his mouth, lest he speak again.

Blaec
shook away from her, saying, “Ah, my love, but I am relieving myself.”

“Shhh!
My God, he will hear you!” Dominique hissed at him. “You are truly mad!”

“He is
gone,” Blaec murmured, reaching down and lifting up her hem with purpose. “And
aye... I am mad... mad with need,” he told her huskily. “Let me love you,
Dominique...”

He
didn’t wait for her to reply, but bent and kissed her lips. She melted against
his knee, and her soft crooning was answer enough.

They
were being pursued.

For the
last few hours since departing London, they had borne a shadow. And now, at
intervals, the foreboding glint of metal flickered ahead of them, making
Graeham wonder that they were being led into an ambush.

His
brows drew together as he considered who it might be, and then he frowned
outright, for the truth was that he could not fathom who might be at their
heels. These were lawless times at best.

Everyone was
suspect.

Instinct
told him that their pursuers had been with them from the first, yet anyone
leaving London would have heard the rumors, and would know... there was no
longer anything to be gained by challenging him. He held his father’s lands no
more. Nay, there was naught to be gained... unless they wished to demand a
ransom... or to settle a debt.

He
glanced at Nial, riding proudly at his side. Nial held his banner high,
unmistakable with its glittering gold-threaded field, and its black,
fire-breathing dragon—a device more suited to his brother, for Blaec was
the true dragon of Drakewich. Even without the lands, Blaec held the title already.
He was the Black Dragon.

Strange
that... that people could sense a leader even when that leader swore to follow.

Graeham
had never had reason to doubt Blaec. His brother had always given him fealty
without question or regret. The truth was that Blaec would likely hang him by
his testicles when he discovered what he’d gone and done. Nevertheless it was
done, and there was naught that could be said to change Graeham’s mind and
will. God’s truth, he’d done what was best for all, and for the first time in
his five and twenty years of life, he felt like his own man—not his
father’s puppet.

Once
again the metallic flicker appeared in the distance, nearer this time. Nial
spied it as well, Graeham noticed, and he nodded at the faithful squire. “Go
and warn the men,” he commanded him.

Nial
immediately fell back “Aye, my lord.”

“Discreetly,”
Graeham said, studying the surrounding land with keen eyes, “lest we force
their hand.”

To the
right, no more than a furlong’s distance, lay thick woodlands, ideal for hiding
an army, yet instinct told him it was not there that the danger lay. They had
remained behind at an indistinguishable distance—perhaps farther now, for
he’d not caught a glimpse of them in the last twenty minutes.

In the
immediate stretch before them, the land sloped upward, concealing what lay
beyond. And to the left of them, the terrain was the same. The road on which
they traveled lay at an angle to the two hills, cutting between them at the
point at which they met, along a lower, narrow passage. It was there he focused
his attention.

There,
and the small pockets of woodland they had yet to pass. He skirted them, all
but the last, and was forced to make a decision, for the last thicket posed a
quandary. If they went around it, they would be forced to pass to the right,
dangerously close to the even thicker woodland to their right. Yet it would
also give them a clearer view of the dale as they entered. If they passed
through the thicket itself, it would place them in danger of an ambush within,
and then they would emerge blindly into the dale. If they forced a pass to the
left, then they would need ride up the hill, placing themselves also in danger
of an attack upon the hillside, and then again as they entered even more
vulnerably into the valley.