Once Upon a Kiss (33 page)

She
then proceeded to lie upon her belly, and cupping her hands, reached down to
bring the water to her lips, drinking deeply and desperately. When that failed
to satisfy her, she brought another handful to her lips, and another, until she
was quenched at last.

And
then, like a child lying in the dewy grass, she was too replete to move. She
rolled to her side beside the stream and peered up at the changing sky, judging
the time and the distance.

God’s
truth, but it seemed that it had taken far less time when they had journeyed
to
Drakewich.
Surely she was close now to Amdel... She had to be.

Yet
nothing was familiar yet.

Then
again, how oft had she left Amdel’s walls? Her father, and then her brother
after him, had rarely allowed her to venture beyond them She had spied the
surrounding land only from her tower window. The only thing she knew for
certain was that Amdel’s land was far less verdant than that of Drakewich.

She
lifted her head, peering over the landscape. There was far less greenery now.
Even the woodlands she had only just left were sparser in trees. And up ahead,
there was yet another patch; it, too, was less dense.

And
sweet Mary, she was hungry.

And she
had to do the necessary, besides.

Frowning,
she lifted her weary self up from the ground, dusted off her dress, and patted
her horse, before searching through the bag she had secured to its back. With a
little foraging, she found both the bread and the cheese she had stuffed
within, and with no one about to observe her manners, she cared not a whit how
she ate. Like a dirty, hungry peasant girl, she stuffed the stale morsels
within her mouth, more than grateful that she had thought to bring them. She
didn’t care that they were stale, didn’t care that she appeared a madwoman
consuming them.

When
she was done, she wiped the crumbs from her face with her sleeve, bent for
another drink from the stream, and then rose, patting her hands, and brushing
her dress off once and for all. That done, she took her mare’s reins and
started for the thicket ahead, fully intending to relieve herself there. While
it was doubtful she would be spied should she do so here, there was no
assurance someone might not come upon her in the midst of it, and she could
never bear it. Though the trees behind her were nearer, she had no wish to go
backward even a few feet. She didn’t know how much longer she could bear this.

Never
in her life had she been in such a desperate state. Yet it would all be worth
it when she faced William at last, and he assured her once and for all that he
was innocent.

The
tracks were becoming fresher and fresher.

Blaec
estimated that Dominique must have passed this way no more than thirty minutes
before them. Far from being pleased with the progress they were making, he was
beginning to grow more ill at ease with each passing instant. With every mile
they covered, they were riding nearer and nearer to Amdel.

Had she reached
it by now?

The
possibility sat like acid in his gut. He clenched his teeth as he rode out from
the forest and then immediately reined in his mount, urging his men to do so at
once, for there in the distance he spied her, and his heart began to hammer
like that of a beardless youth.

The
knot in his stomach eased with the knowledge that she’d not reached her
brother—not as yet.

Though
she was near enough to her destination to make him uneasy still. The last thing
he wished to do was panic her just now. If she spied them and seized the
opportunity to remount and to ride only a few miles south, they would be within
visible distance of Amdel’s tower walls, and that was the last thing he needed
just now—to be spied by her brother’s men—not when he was ill
prepared to face them.

For an
instant he sat and watched as, oblivious to their presence, she staggered into
a thicket of trees ahead of them. Blaec waited only a moment longer, and then,
urging his men to remain behind, he alone followed her. He dismounted, leaving
his
destrier
outside the thicket, and then entered as stealthily as he was able.

It took
him only a glance or two to locate her, for he spied the top of her head at
once, barely visible above a bush where she squatted, not twenty feet from
where he stood. Pissing, he thought, and singing softly besides, and his face
screwed at the ill fortune of his timing.

He had
to strangle the impulse to turn around and afford her the privacy she had
sought, for he was unwilling to lose sight of her again. God’s teeth, but he
was glad he’d not brought his men, he decided, as he crouched and stole toward
her.

Well,
if he had hoped to catch her unawares and unprepared to flee him... there was
no better moment than this.

The very
last thing Dominique was in the mood for just now was singing, but she did so
because it helped to dispel her melancholy. She sang a verse of a song she
vaguely recalled her mother singing, and then promptly forgot the words as she
was halfway through it. Trying not to think of her discomfort, or her
weariness—or, for that matter, the humiliating fact that she was
relieving her bladder in God’s plain sight—she sighed in disgust, and
tried once more:

“My
husband is exceedingly jealous, arrogant, ruthless, and harsh... but he will
soon be a cuckold if I can meet my sweet lover, a man of refinement and charm.
You see, I do not care one bit for husbands... because they dislike anything
worthwhile. I am telling you: We should scorn the boor who is full of harm!”

She
nodded, quite pleased that she’d remembered this time, and continued:

“Not
for all the riches of Citeaux should a lively heart and lovely lady take a
husband, says Etienne de Meaux; she should take a lover instead... and I shall
believe him and take a lover! Oh… I am telling you: We should scorn the boor
who is—”

“Full
of harm...”

Starting
at the unexpected accompaniment, Dominique shrieked and bound to her feet, her
face screwing in alarm as she thrust down her skirts.

Blaec
cleared his throat, pursing his lips as he suppressed his laughter. Standing
before him, she appeared more a waif than a lady in her threadbare blue bliaut,
with her dust-smeared face—but ah, what a beautiful waif she was.

Her
damp gown clung to her, revealing every delectable curve. And Christ... he
remembered those curves only too well. His mouth went dry with desire. God’s
truth, but he was glad his men had remained behind, for if he found even a one
of them staring just now, he thought he might run him through with his blade.

She was
stunned speechless, he could tell, and he lifted a brow, feeling light hearted
in his relief to have found her at last

“You!”
Dominique exclaimed, finding her voice at last. And then more angrily, “You!”
She flew at him then, like a woman mad, pummeling his chest furiously with her
clenched fists.

Laughing,
though he tried to stop himself, he seized her wrists. Between his relief, and
her enraged expression, he thought he would split his sides with hilarity.

“Dominique!”
he bellowed. “Stop, lass.”

“Never!”
she swore. “I swear I will murder you here where you stand!”

“Really?”
he asked her, and then burst into another peal of laughter as he attempted in
vain to avoid her legs while she kicked at him. “Only, before you do… tell me,”
he said, when he could get a breath, “where did you learn such a bawdy song as
that?”

“My
mother!” she told him viciously, struggling to free herself from his ruthless
grip. “You mannerless boor!”

“A
boor?” he said, bursting once more into laughter. “Like the one in your song?”

“How
long were you listening?” she demanded, kicking his shin.

“Ouch!
Watch those legs, demoiselle. They are more dangerous a weapon than my sword.”

“How
long?” she demanded, her cheeks bursting with rosy color.

“God’s
teeth, if I’d have foreseen this, I would have worn my chausses, woman! Merely
a verse or two,” he relented, answering honestly, trying to preserve his legs
from further damage.

She
stilled at that, glaring at him, her blue eyes brilliant in her fury. “Oh! You
are vile!”

He
cocked a brow, grinning. ‘Truly?”

‘Truly!”

He gave
her an injured glance. “You wound me, demoiselle.”

“I
cannot believe you would spy upon me here! How dare you!” she cried.

His
lips curved. “The truth is, demoiselle, that there is not a single part of that
delicious body of yours that I do not know intimately.”

He
could see in her eyes that his words affected her as much as the truth of them
affected him. Even now he was aroused. Painfully. Despite the fact that he knew
there was no possibility of being relieved this moment. Not here. Not now.
Though if she kicked him once more, just a little higher this time, he would be
cured for all eternity, he thought wryly.

“In
fact, Dominique,” he continued, his tone low and husky, “the images are burned
indelibly in my mind.”

Her
face flushed with color—angry color, he thought, for her luminous
sapphire eyes narrowed. She threw her arms out. “You’ve not seen
this
!” she
said vehemently.

“What?”
he asked, unable to keep himself from goading her. “What is it that I’ve not
seen?” His grin widened, despite that he tried to arrest it.

Her
blush deepened till he thought she would scream. “You know very well,” she
accused him, declining to enlighten him.

“Oh,”
he said, his grin widening. He nodded, his brows rising. “I see...” He held her
wrists tighter, lest she use them to pummel him again.

He cast
a meaningful glance at the ground where she’d been squatting. “You mean your
pissing?”

She
shrieked indignantly and struggled all the more fiercely to free herself.
“Swine! Cur! Oaf! I cannot believe you would say such a thing to me!”

He
clucked his tongue at her, resisting another burst of laughter. He had to fight
the urge to draw her against himself and hold her, touch her, caress her, kiss
her senseless. God, he wanted to. He wanted to make love to her right here and
now, wanted to brand her, making her his for all eternity. He wanted to tell
her there was nothing standing in their way now, for they had Graeham’s
blessing. He wanted to say so much. As God was his witness, he didn’t know what
he would do without her.

“What
language,” he admonished, his eyes caressing her, while his hands could not.
“It seems I shall have to cure you of that, once and for all, demoiselle,” he said,
sobering. “After all, we cannot have the lady of Drakewich speaking such
obscenities.”

Her blue eyes shadowed. “We both know that I am
not the lady of Drakewich—that I never will be,” she returned, glaring at
him. “And you are cruel to taunt me so! Release me, at last! Let me go!” She
tilted her head, pleading with him.

“Never!” he swore, though he released her wrists
finally. “Why did you leave, Dominique?” he demanded.

Dominique simply stared at him, the expression in
her eyes seemingly as tormented as his own emotions. “You should have let me
return to Amdel. ’Tis best for all.”

“Christ,
Dominique…” His face twisted. “Best for whom? You cannot truly expect that I
should simply let you go?” he said incredulously, and meant for her to see the
truth in his eyes—that he could not live without her. He wanted to speak
the words, as well, but found his tongue tied. She seemed not to read him at
all.

She
lifted her chin. “Why?” He recognized the instant she hardened her heart
against him. ‘Tell me, my lord... are you afraid I will tell my brother what
you plan? That I might spoil your turn at vengeance? Is that it?”

His
face hardened at her accusation, for it forced him to consider the possibility.
Perhaps that was her intent today—to betray him as he had first suspected
she meant to do.

“Come
to think of it,” he said, blinking, his jaw clenching.

“Well,
you can take yourself back to Drakewich!” Dominique told him fiercely. “I’ll
not be returning with you, after all.” She turned and stormed away, toward the palfrey
she had tethered to the bushes a few feet away.