Once Upon a Kiss

chapter 2





Every terrifying tale Dominique had ever heard whispered of the Black Dragon rushed through her mind in that instant as she stared down into his piercing eyes. Like a half-wit, she sat upon her mount, her heart racing wildly, and she feared he must have guessed at her thoughts, for his lips curved a little contemptuously.

“Contrary to what is said,” he apprised, “I do not spew flames.” His eyes mocked her as he stepped forward, offering his assistance. “And particularly not at innocent maids.”

He’d emphasized the word “innocent” as though it were a gauntlet pitched at her feet and Dominique sat, staring at his extended hand with something akin to horror. Of course she was innocent! She had no notion what he’d meant by the insinuation—if, indeed, that’s what it was—nor did she wish him to touch her—not in this life or the next!

“Demoiselle?” he prompted. One dark brow arched diabolically. “Have you plans to dismount some hour this day, or did you plan to take that respite upon your feeble mount?”

Dominique bristled at his arrogance. Forgetting her dread of him for the instant, she pitched aside the reins and asked pointedly, “Are you always so ill mannered, my lord?”

“Without exception,” he replied, his lips curving yet a fraction more.

In truth, Dominique thought he might have been grinning except for the wintry chill that remained in those disquieting, scathing eyes. She wanted to smite the condescension from his face.

“Demoiselle,” he persisted, “would you have me assist you, or nay? I do not have all day.”

Dominique cursed him beneath her breath, knowing it was within his power to make this difficult passage more facile for all. But nay! She had the distinct impression he would make it infinitely more difficult were the choice his own.

To the devil with him! All that truly mattered was that Graeham d’Lucy should find her pleasing, she reminded herself. His wrathful brother could fling himself from the highest tower window!

He advanced upon her abruptly and Dominique’s heart vaulted into her throat.

“I can manage to dismount on my own, thank you please!” Goaded into motion by the merest threat of physical contact—the thought of his hands upon her waist—she promptly slipped to the ground. But in her haste, the hem of her bliaut caught upon the pommel. One foot in the stirrup, the other midway to the ground, she froze the instant she felt the breeze upon her stockinged legs. Her gaze flew to his at once, and her eyes widened in horror at the dark look upon his face. He shuddered—in revulsion, she thought—and her heart tripped. “Oh!” she cried.

He moved swiftly to aid her, as though he could not abide the sight of her an instant longer than necessary and her breath wedged painfully within her breast as she watched his fingers work deftly to liberate her gown. Only when it was free did she dare breathe again.

But to her dismay, once he’d freed her gown, he merely held the hem, bringing it closer as though to inspect it. Dominique gave a startled shriek as her hem rose higher whilst he tested the fabric between his fingertips, examining it, his countenance darkening.

“My lord, please!” she exclaimed. “Please!”

As though recalling himself suddenly, he crushed the fabric violently within his fist and flung it down at her feet. The hem swished about her ankles as his gaze pierced her once more. Gooseflesh erupted upon her skin as she slid the rest of the way to the ground under his scrutiny.

“’Tis a mighty fine cloth,” he said, his eyes locking with hers.

Sweet Mary, but they were so deep and dark a green—appearing all the darker for the sinister shadows that rimmed them. They suited him, she decided, for they were the eyes of a man who never rested, never trusted. They were the eyes of a dragon, she determined, and he’d lied when he’d claimed he did not spew flames. He did, but not from his mouth. His eyes burned her, consumed her—and still she could not tear her gaze away. She shivered, noting the telltale muscle that ticked at his jaw, and then abruptly he turned away. Dominique inhaled a breath, for his dismissal left her reeling.

‘This way, demoiselle!”

For an instant Dominique stood, stupefied, watching him go, before she understood that he meant for her to follow. And once again she bristled. Arrogant cur!

Why she suddenly felt compelled to defend her gown, she wasn’t certain, but something in his tone seemed to accuse her. “My brother would have me look my best,” she informed him, barely keeping pace with his long strides. “’Tis not every day a woman celebrates her marriage and peace for her people!”

“Is that so,” he mocked her, turning those sinister eyes upon her abruptly. “Then you rejoice in this union with my brother?”

She lifted her chin. “Of course!” she replied. But he merely turned from her, continuing toward the donjon.

Dominique practically stumbled over her gown in an attempt to keep pace, wishing fervently that she were a man so she could challenge him properly. Lord she would love to wipe the ill-begotten smirk from his face—straight from his eyes!

“For the sake of peace, I presume?”

He didn’t bother even to glance back at her to acknowledge her response, nor even to be certain she followed—curse his hide! “Aye!” she snapped. “Why else, my lord?”

“Perhaps,” he countered, still without turning to acknowledge her, “that is something about which you might care to enlighten us, demoiselle?”

“You do not trust us!”

He halted before the stone steps that led into the great hall, and Dominique nearly collided with his mail-clad chest as he turned to face her. Stifling a gasp, she peered up at him, unnerved by his remarkable height. God, but she was tall for a woman, taller than some men even, but her head scarcely reached his shoulders.

“Let us simply say I am not convinced so easily as my brother,” he said. ‘So tell me, Lady Dominique...”

A quiver sped through her at the way he spoke her name, deeply, sensuously, intimately, as though it were something to be savored and ravished at the same time.

“What prompted you to come so long before the ceremony,” he demanded. His voice lowered with enmity. “When even the banns have yet to be cried.”

Dominique’s blush deepened, for it was the one question she’d asked of herself along the journey to Drakewich. The only explanation she could surmise was that her brother wished not to allow Graeham the opportunity to repudiate her before the ceremony. She knew how desperately he craved this union. “‘Tis plain you cannot begin to comprehend,” she said, “but my brother is eager for peace!” She lifted her chin, gaining confidence with her conviction. “Not everyone relishes bloodshed as you seem to, my lord!”

“Nay?” Once again his devil brow arched, and then his face twisted and some sound escaped him, something akin to a snarl. Dominique shrank from him—so much for her show of mettle, she berated herself. And without another word, he spun about and stalked away, this time without prompting her to follow.

“Nay!” she exclaimed, and hastened after him. If he thought he could cast aspersions upon her and her brother without hearing her speak her mind, he should think again. “My lord, with every dispute, Amdel loses men-at-arms,” she yielded angrily. “The butchery must cease! Can you not see that?”

“Indeed?” He halted once more and swerved abruptly to face her.

This time Dominique did collide with him, so agitated was she with his treatment. With a startled gasp, she drew away, as though scalded by the unexpected contact. She took a defensive step backward, straightening her gown with quaking hands. “God’s love! H-Have you no courtesy at all?” she asked. Her knees felt suddenly too weak to stand, but she refused to cower before him.

Ignoring her angry objection, he said, “As I see it, demoiselle, were Amdel in such dire straits, ‘tis doubtful you’d reveal such news to me. Nevertheless, you have the right of it, the butchery must cease, and to that end I am willing to accept you and your brother in good faith.”

He was willing to accept them in good faith?

God’s truth, but the man was despotic! Her eyes narrowed. “How obliging of you, my lord.”

He took a wrathful step toward her, closing the distance between them in a single stride, and it was all Dominique could do not to shriek in terror and flee. Bending till he nearly brushed her brow with his lips, he snarled at her. “Be that as it may, demoiselle, know this; I shall be watching both of you because nay, indeed, I do not trust you!”

A quiver sped down the length of her spine.

“Are we understood?”

The look upon his face left no doubt as to the veracity of his words. God’s breath, Dominique sensed he would slay even a woman to protect his accursed brother.

Peace, she reminded herself. She was here for the cause of peace. And if she told this brute exactly what she thought of him, she would risk that tentative bond her brother was busy forging. “Aye,” she answered, swallowing, trying to sound as fierce as she was able, but failing miserably. She swallowed her pride as well as her anger. “My lord... you shall find naught untoward with either of us, of that I assure you.”

His green eyes bored into her blue ones, again the invasion so tangible, she was forced to take another step backward.

“Only time will tell, demoiselle.”