Once Upon a Kiss (10 page)

It was never forthcoming. To his distress, Graeham
had always been his father’s son, and Blaec little more than an inconvenience.
It didn’t matter that Graeham would change it were he able to, it was as it
was. His hand went to his sword hilt, and he lifted the old relic from his
scabbard, tracing his bare thumb over the inscription along the blade.
INNOMINEDOMINI: In the name of God. How incongruous.

“So … to whom do we owe such a debt of gratitude?”
Graeham asked. He could not begin to fathom how it was that Blaec could look at
him with affection, much less the devotion he gave. He didn’t deserve it.

Blaec’s answering grin was wily. “The carpenter’s
wife,” he disclosed with obvious relish.

“Sweet Maude?” Graeham’s tone was incredulous.

Blaec chuckled. “One and the very same. It seems
they caught her husband with his breeches down.”

Graeham’s brows knit. “Surely you jest?”

Again Blaec chuckled, only this time with
considerably more humor. “Nay, and to hear Adam tell it, she climbed down from
atop him like a madwoman, shoved down her skirts, and ran to the window with a
wood axe, flinging it out at the nearest rider.” His grin widened. “Apparently
it left the premise imbedded within the rider’s face.”

“Ye God!” Graeham shuddered at the image that came
to mind.

“My sentiments precisely.”

“I believe I shall never tease the wench again,”
Graeham vowed, shuddering again. “In fact, perhaps we should recruit her.”

Blaec smiled morosely. “Certainly she’s fared
better against those fiends than any of our men have managed thus far.”

Graeham sighed. “A rather sad fact, but true.”

“At any rate,” Blaec continued, “last night it was
much too dark to search the adjoining woods, but I thought perhaps today... we
would invite our guests on a... hunt?”

Graeham’s brows lifted. He nodded. “I should very
much like to see Beauchamp’s face if we were to happen upon a body,” he
admitted.

“‘Tis settled then.”

“Aye,” Graeham agreed. Lifting himself from the
bed, he made his way to the door, re-sheathing his sword. “I suppose I shall go
extend the invitation to our guest,” he proposed. And pray he’s found
blameless, he thought silently. For everyone’s sake he hoped Beauchamp was not
responsible.

“Be certain to invite
your bride
,” Blaec called after him, his
tone sardonic.

Graeham stopped and turned. “Of course,” he said,
but his brows knit.

Something about the way Blaec had called her his
bride caught his attention, and he stood there considering his dutiful brother
a long moment. He’d been watching those two together and even a blind man could
detect the undercurrents between them. And suddenly he grinned, for he knew
precisely how to extricate himself from his entanglement. Inadvertently he’d
already stumbled upon the answer. Blaec was right, though Graeham would never
admit it. Out of guilt, he had inadvertently been casting the two of them
together.

Even if William was guilty, he reasoned, in all
likelihood his sister was not, for she didn’t strike him as a treacherous
shrew. Loyal to her brother, she might be, but her outburst yesterday evening
when they’d considered the fate of William’s messenger had told him much.

Aye... what better way to shed himself of his
burden?

Indeed, and if all settled itself well, then it would
go considerably easier when he spoke to Stephen later. He’d long vowed to do
so, but it was past time, and as he shut the door behind him, and Blaec settled
back into the massive tub, Graeham felt remarkably lighter in spirit.

Lighter than he had in ages.

Dominique managed to wait until both she and Alyss
were respectfully dressed, but she couldn’t hold back any longer. When Alyss
lifted up a comb from Dominique’s possessions in order to dress her hair,
Dominique removed it from her hands, returning it to the table.

“Alyss,” she began, her tone grave, “you must tell
me who did this to you.” Gently, wincing at the sight of the bruise, she
reached to touch Alyss’ cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Alyss fidgeted uncomfortably. “Nay, m’lady...
there is nothing for you to be sorry for.” Gently she removed Dominique’s hand
from her face, as though heartily uncomfortable with the ministrations. “I do
thank you, but ’tis just as I said... I fell from my bed whilst I slept.”

Dropping her hand at her side, Dominique averted
her face, turning from Alyss toward the shuttered window. “Dear God, Alyss...
how can you expect me to accept such a tale? As much as it pains me to agree
with a single word Blaec d’Lucy might utter, I cannot believe that tale any
more than he did.”

“Twas kind of him to consider me,” Alyss
interjected.

Dominique’s brows collided as she whirled to face
her maid. “Kind? I can think of much to call that man, but kind is not one of
them!”

Alyss nodded impassionedly. “Aye, m’lady! In
truth, he would not have been so angry were he not concerned. Only think of
it... would he have spent long hours without sleep, battling fires, when he
could have sent his men out, instead, and then gone to bed without a backward
thought? Could he not as easily have dealt with the fire this morn? Aye,” she
affirmed, seeing that Dominique considered her words, “That blaze did not
threaten the donjon and were he not so concerned for his people, he’d have done
precisely so!” She looked wistful a moment, wringing her hands, and then said,
“Tis fortunate, you are, indeed, for Graeham is not only kind and handsome, but
he is gentle as well. Only would that I...” She halted on a sob, her gaze
skidding toward Dominique.

Dominique hesitated, her eyes misting, but only an
instant, for no matter that she dreaded the question, she had to ask, “Was it
my brother, Alyss? Was it William?” Her hand clenched at her breast. “Did he do
this to you?”

Alyss’ eyes widened. “Oh, nay, m’lady!” She gave a
little squeak of alarm and shook her head adamantly. “Nay!” At once she made
the sign of the cross. “God preserve us both—nay, m’lady—how could
you even think so?”

Relief washed over Dominique. Still, she had to
ask, had to know for certain, “Are you telling me the truth, Alyss?”

Alyss opened her mouth to speak and then closed
it, lowering her face as though taking offense with the question. An instant
later, she lifted her chin, and said with certitude, her eyes devoid of
emotion, “It was not your lord brother, m’lady.”

“Who then?”

Alyss shook her head determinedly. “You must
forgive me, I cannot say.”

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting them.

Dominique and Alyss both turned as the door
creaked opened. That was something these two brothers seemed to share in
common, Dominique thought crossly as Graeham’s face appeared in the doorway.
Neither seemed to care one whit for even the smallest of courtesies. God’s
love, but she was beginning to truly regret this unholy alliance.

Dominique gave her maid a furtive glance. “You
understand I had to know?” she asked softly, fully intending to address the
matter with Graeham. Not even the infernal Dragon could stop her from
discovering the name of the miscreant responsible for this offense.

She fully intended to pursue it, though later.
Because this was, indeed, the first time her betrothed had troubled himself to
seek her out. She forced a smile, not wanting to barrage him with complaints
all at once. “My lord,” she said sweetly in greeting. Lifting her gown, she
made her way at once toward him. “I did so hope I could speak with you today.”

He smiled down at her, and Dominique found that
some of her anger dissipated with the warmth of it. He was, in truth, a comely
man, she told herself, and Alyss was right; she was fortunate. “Well, here I am
in the flesh,” he said jovially. “I trust you are feeling better this morn?”
Reaching out, he sought her hand and, taking it, gently pressed his lips to the
back of it.

Unaccustomed to such graciousness, Dominique
observed the gesture skeptically. “Aye, my lord,” she relented, and despite her
discomfiture, she felt at once a little foolish and guilty for the things she’d
only just thought of him. He was nothing like his brother, she assured herself.
Nay, for it was more than apparent that the man standing before her was of
noble breeding—she cast an irritable glance at the door—at least,
in most respects. His brother, on the other hand, was naught but an uncivilized
brute.

“Splendid,” Graeham declared. The dimple in one
cheek deepened with his smile, and Dominique found herself wondering whether he
and Blaec shared that peculiar feature in common. And yet even as she thought
it, she was horrified. Why, by God’s love, should she think of that man. She
need only concern herself with Graeham. Retrieving her hand, she lowered her
lashes guiltily.

“I’m pleased to hear it as I hoped to persuade you
to join me in today’s hunt.” His eyes were sparkling when she met his gaze
again. “If you will but consider it,” he continued, “I shall count myself a
fortunate man.”

With every word he uttered, Dominique felt more
ill at ease. She was unaccustomed to such courtesy, or, for that matter, such
honeyed words from any man. She gave him a tentative smile. “No need to
consider at all, my lord,” she replied, lifting her chin slightly out of
necessity. Yet another way in which these two brothers were alike—their
uncommon height. “I should be delighted to ride at your side,” she said... and
could not help but wonder if the Dragon would grace them with his presence.

At the thought, her stomach roiled. She told
herself it had absolutely nothing to do with the prospect of seeing Blaec
d’Lucy again. Indeed, she hoped the demon Dragon didn’t bother to join them at
all.

Not that it would matter, of course. Neither his
presence nor his absence concerned her in the least.

Her brows knit, and she bit into her lower lip.

Sweet Mary, but she didn’t seem to be able to put
two thoughts together this morn without thinking of that beast. Assuring
herself it was merely because he’d managed to distress her already this morn,
she forced her thoughts to graver matters. “My lord,” she began, “there is
something I would speak to you of...” She glanced over her shoulder at her
maid, and then back. “Alyss, you see...”

“Nay, m’lady!” Alyss broke in.

Startled by the protest, Dominique turned to
question her silently, and saw that she’d taken an urgent step forward. Truth
to tell, she appeared very much as though she would swoon, and the expression
on her face was nothing short of fearful, growing more so by the second.

“I beg you, please!”

Dominique thought she might be horrified by the
notion of broaching such a tender subject before Graeham, and she relented with
a nod, resolving to ask him later, when Alyss was not present. Perhaps they
would even have a moment aside during the hunt when she could speak to him
privately.

Graeham’s brows lifted, assessing them both. “If
there is aught I can help with, demoiselle, you need only ask.”

Demoiselle.
The sound of it upon Graeham’s lips was strangely
unappealing after hearing it from his brother’s—but how absurd when Blaec
d’Lucy had used the word only in anger and never in affection.

For a flustered instant she could not find her
voice to speak. Recalling the way he’d looked at her, with such potent, silent
fury, and she wondered again what ailed her that she should care whether he
despised her unjustly, or nay. This man standing before her would be her
husband.
This
was the man she should concern herself with, this man and no other.
This man
, and
not his brother.

Graeham watched her with the most peculiar
expression upon his face. “Very well, then,” he said. “If there is nothing
else...” He waited for her to speak up, and when she did not, he added, “Now
there is something I would have you do for me...”

Annoyance pricked at her, unreasonable though it
might be. She wanted to please him. Nay, it was her duty to please him, and she
would do anything she could to realize her place in his home. She tilted her
face to his and prayed he could not spy the confusion that filled her soul.
“Anything, my lord. You need only ask,” she said, and meant it.

His smile was amiable, and she thought in that
instant that Graeham d’Lucy was the most gentle man she’d ever known. God’s
truth, not even her own flesh and blood had been so tender with her—not
ever. She must remember to count her blessings.

“My brother,” he said softly.

Dominique’s heart lurched. She lowered her lashes
at once.

“He is bathing in my chamber,” Graeham pointed
out. He lifted her chin with a finger so that she was sure to see his eyes as
he commanded her. “As my bride to be... I would have you go there now and
accord him the honor of bathing him.”

“Nay!” The single word exploded from her lips,
startling even Dominique, for she’d never dared deny a behest before. Still,
having done so, she could not find in herself an apology for her outburst. He
frowned at her. Brushing his hand away from her face, and she took a panicked
step backward. “My lord! you cannot mean for me to—”

“Ah, but I do,” he broke in, his expression
hardening at her refusal. “He is my brother, Lady Dominique. And as my brother,
none other in this house holds higher regard. Not even you,” he pointed out
callously. “So you see... you will go and bathe him, for I’ll not have myself a
disobedient wife.”

Dominique swallowed the bitter retort that came to
her lips.

“Do we understand each other, Lady Dominique?”

Dominique’s heart sank. Had she truly dared think
she could ever be more than a political hostage in this contemptible barter?
Had she dared think Graeham would be different from his brother only because
his smile had been so angelic? God’s mercy, but she didn’t know who was worse:
Blaec, who openly loathed her, or Graeham, who allowed her to hope and then
could so easily grind her beneath his heel.