Kiss of the Dragon (20 page)

“I apologize for hurting you, my lord. But I did warn you
before I started that I had never done this sort of thing before. Galen has
always taken on such tasks.” She gave him a slight smile as she made her way
across the room to stand before him once again.

“A bit of advice, Bianca. You had better learn to do such
tasks if you ever consider marrying a knight. Learning to place a few good
stitches will come in handy from time to time.”

Her heartbeat did a little flip when he mentioned marriage
to a knight, but then she realized that he was merely giving her advice, as was
the duty of a matchmaker.

“I suppose you are right, my lord. One never knows when one
might be called upon to sew a bit of flesh back together. This is turning out
to be an invaluable experience. Thank you for being my first, my lord.”

She didn’t know if he understood her sarcasm, but if so, he
chose to ignore it, adding to her vexation.

“Finish the task, Bianca. My shoulder begins to throb
uncomfortably.” He picked up the dangling needle and held it out to her. “Try
to be a little more tender this time.”

“Perhaps if you would choose your words a little more
carefully, my lord, I might be able to concentrate better.” Her scurrilous tone
drew a derisive snort from the large man.

Bianca diligently resumed the task of sewing the gash in
Lord Draco’s shoulder, but she was far from being pleased about her present
situation. As preoccupied as she was, when she reached for a cloth to wipe
seeping blood from his shoulder, Bianca’s thigh came in contact with the
obvious bulge that threatened to split the seam of Draco’s breeches causing him
to inhale sharply. She stilled instantly not daring to even look up to see if
he was annoyed with her.

“Bianca.” Her name was spoken in a mere whisper.

She looked up and found his eyes burning with black fire.
His desire for her was there for her to see and she knew he wanted her. It gave
her an immense feeling of power. Her earlier fears faded as she watched his
desire in his eyes grow as his gaze dropped to her breasts. He raised one hand
to reach for her and then in the next moment he blinked and his hand dropped
back to his lap.

Her gaze dropped to his throat as he swallowed with
difficulty. “Bianca.” There was a slight tremor to his deep voice as he spoke
her name once again, breaking the silent tension that filled the room. He bent
his head toward her.

“Yea, my lord.”

“I have most likely near bled to death this day, perhaps you
should finish.” His words were barely discernible, but his mouth was so close
to her ear it was impossible not to understand him. His lips were a breath away
from her cheek and she would have only to turn her head and her lips would meet
his. But she only nodded and washed the fresh blood away with her herbal
infusion before she took up the needle once again and proceeded to make small,
meticulous stitches until she had finished the task.

Her skin felt too tight for her body and her heart beat so
loudly she was surprised that Draco did not comment on it. To distract her
thoughts, she gently traced the line of stitches with her fingers as she
smeared on the ointments she had found in Galen’s cupboard.

“I am sorry I was not gentler in sewing up your wound.” She
found clean linen and bound the wound and then tied the ends gently before
placing one light kiss on the bandage. “Peace, my lord.”

“Worry not, Bianca. Your very touch has been a salve to my
tattered soul.”

But she had already fled from the room.

* * * * *

“I find myself too embarrassed to face him again after
making such a fool of myself,” Bianca bemoaned to her reflection as she
vigorously brushed her hair. Every stroke came near to tearing out a great
chunk of hair from her head. If she were not more careful, she would soon be
bald.

“However, there is no getting around it. I have to see him again.
The great question in this matter is whether I will be able to make him
understand how much I want him. I would give anything to make him mine.” The
brush stilled in midair as she thought about all the implications that her
words aroused.

“Anything?” The solemnity of the woman peering back at her
from the mirror was enough to convince her to risk all or she would come to
regret that she had not. If, in the end, he did indeed leave, his heart
untouched by either word or deed of hers to live out his life in lonely
solitude, she could honestly say that she had done her best to tempt him to
stay with her.

Placing the brush resolutely on the dressing table, Bianca
stood and struck a pose, giving her best
come hither, I am yours for the
taking look
and declared, “Well, mirror, I am said to be the fairest in the
land. All men find me beautiful and, no matter what Lord Draco professed, he is
no more immune to my charms than the rest. It was time I took action.”

The door of her bedchamber opened and she quickly turned
from her mirror to see who it was. But not in a thousand years would she have
guessed who had come to visit her.

Heloise, Duchess de Neige, stood rigidly in the opened
doorway, as if she were afraid to step any closer. Her hands clenched tightly
together and her long fingernails dug into her tender flesh, she looked
terribly upset. Bianca wondered what had gone so wrong today that it had
ruffled her stepmother’s feathers in such a drastic way.

“Can I do something for you?”

Pasting a false smile on her painted face, her pale blue
eyes as cold as ice, Heloise moved a few steps into the chamber. “Yes,
stepdaughter, there is something that I would dearly love for you to do. But…”
She shrugged her shoulders indifferently, “that is not what I have come here to
discuss.”

Bianca was not in the mood to try to follow her stepmother’s
enigmatic words. The woman wanted something and she was not one to dither
around about asking. She was not a shy person by any means.

“I had to see with my own eyes, that you were unharmed in
your latest escapade.”

“In the first place it was not an escapade, stepmother. I
was kidnapped and nearly murdered. Lord Draco came close to being killed when
he rescued me from those villains. Do not put less importance on it than it
really is. And as you can very well see, I am fine. Thank you for your concern.
You can leave my chambers now.”

“Please, Bianca. Do not be so catty. I heard about this
disturbing business earlier today but I was unable to attend you until now. I
wanted to verify to myself that you were not harmed or perhaps even killed.”

Never would Bianca have figured Heloise to be so concerned
for her welfare. Perhaps she had greatly misjudged her stepmother. Perhaps she
was not the cold-hearted witch that she appeared to be.

“I appreciate your kindness, Duchess. But as you can see I
am uninjured.”

Bianca twirled about to show her stepmother that she had not
even a scratch to show for the morning’s misadventure. “I cannot say as much of
Draco. He was in need of several stitches in a ghastly cut he received for his
efforts in my rescue. And Jabulani has yet to be found after the villains
attacked us on the road. I fear for his life.”

“Draco? Should you be so informal with a lowly baron, my
dear? He is a nobleman’s by-blow after all. He has made it plain that he is not
here to court you. No matter what you think.”

Bianca’s cheeks paled at her stepmother’s words.

“It is just as well. Take my advice. Setting your sights on
such a base-born knight can only bring you heartache. But then again, you are
not from such high-class parentage either. Your father made the mistake of
marrying beneath him and thus never was able to advance himself in the eyes of
society. He was most fortunate to have met and married me. You should take a
lesson from his mistakes. Look to make a grand catch.”

Her parting shot stunned Bianca so much so that she stood
frozen in place, staring dumbly at the door for some time after Heloise left.

Her stepmother’s words went around and around in her head
and a niggling doubt began to grow. Would Draco turn his back on her if he
learned the truth about her mother? Most of her suitors would care little of
her ancestry. Most were captured by her beauty and held by the knowledge that
she was a great heiress. She had never worried about the shadow that colored
her noble line. She tried to assure herself that Draco would not be so shallow
as to turn from her if he found out that her mother had been a gypsy. He was
not like that. He wouldn’t care about her past. Would he?

* * * * *

Heloise’s attention remained centered on the one item of
Bianca’s story. She fought the fury that threatened to swamp her with black
hatred. If not for the Black Dragon, her scheme would have removed this
obstacle to her future plans for Neige. She had barely been able to hold back
her angry words.

She slammed into her bedchamber and stalked to her own
mirror. She stood, gazing at her countenance and hating what she saw. Her age
was catching up with her and her looks faded with every passing day. Her anger
spewed forth as she took in the fat, dowdy, middle-aged matron who gazed back
at her.

“What a simple-minded little twit, she is. Imagine, talking
to mirrors as if they would answer her. No wonder she thinks so highly of
herself. Vanity is a sin and one of these days she will suffer for her
transgression. Fairest of them all? Hah! In my youth, I would have outshone her
as a diamond outshines a stone.” She spun around slowly; turning her head to
watch her silk and lace gown swirl about her now plump figure. In her mind’s
eye, she did not see a middle-aged matron, but a young maiden as she was twenty
years earlier. A beauty of the first water, proud and coquettish, flirting with
all the young men from behind her fan. Golden hair piled high, held in place by
jeweled combs. Smooth white skin and rose-tinted cheeks, a long, slender neck
and creamy white shoulders that set off a richly decorated satin gown. Yea, she
was the crème de la crème of society, and every young nobleman set out to
seduce her. They wanted her in their beds, but not as their wife. Alas, she was
not a great heiress. She had finally had to settle for a minor nobleman and
they had moved to his country manor to rusticate away from court and polite
society. It had taken years for her to make her way back to the social swirl
that she craved and then she had been fortunate to find the newly widowed Duke
de Neige who suffered deep sorrow for his late wife. It had been a simple thing
to give him her sympathy and then to move into his bed. He had asked her to
marry him within months of their first meeting, he had been so lonely.

Yea, fortune had finally chosen to favor her with what she
had wanted most, a rich, titled husband. The means to get back into polite
society. She was still a magnificent-looking woman and she was not about to let
that little chit steal one ounce of her glory.

The gloaming darkened into night and the world slowed to a
peaceful state as the castle inhabitants retired to their beds and slept. All
that is, except Draco d’Ensoleille. He had much on his mind and found it
impossible to succumb to slumber.

In search of solace, Draco made his way to the stables. He
found a lit torch at the entrance, which he borrowed to light his way to his
stallion’s stall. He moved down the center aisle, the light from the torch
throwing his tall, wide shadow against the walls behind him. The exaggerated
size of the apparition drew a gasp of horror from a sleepy stable lad when he
heard footsteps and roused himself to see who dared to invade his domain that
time of the night. Before he could screech his terror, a large hand clamped
over his mouth.

“Go back to sleep, lad. I am here to check on my steed,
nothing more.” He proceeded past other stalls until he reached Inferno. His
horse greeted him with a loud nickering as he thrust his muzzle through the
slats of the gate.

“Good boy.” Draco rubbed his hand up and down the stallion’s
forehead and along his satiny neck. His gentle handling of the horse earned him
a nip, as Inferno demanded a treat. Chuckling at the stallion’s forwardness, he
drew an apple from his pouch and offered it. The sweet treat was demolished in
one chomp and Inferno demanded more.

“You greedy beast. Someone has spoiled you.”

He found a brush and stepped into the stall and began curry
the horse with long, firm strokes. The sound Inferno made at the attention
could have been taken for a groan of pleasure as he stood very still and
accepted the attention as his due.

Draco found peacefulness in the simple act of grooming his
stallion. In the solitude of the musty, dark building, he found that he could
clear his head and affect a little soul-searching. But he soon found that it
was not to be. His place of quiet solitude was invaded by one interruption
after the other.

Even as he stood brushing out Inferno’s magnificent mane,
Charles came looking for him. His heavy footsteps could be heard on the stone
floor as he made his way down the aisle. When he finally came to a halt before
the stall, he said nothing.

Draco glanced at his handsome cousin who stood watching him
with a very somber expression on his face, saying very little for a very long
while. Not wanting to encourage him to stay, Draco decided to ignore him. When
he did finally speak, Draco barely controlled the urge to laugh outright. The
man was truly morose in his statement.

“I have come to the conclusion that I owe you an apology,
cousin. I realized that I have inadvertently been misleading you for some time
now.”

“Oh? In what way have you misled me?”

“I boldly claimed at one time that everybody, even you, was
capable of falling in love. But now I take back my words. As much as I care for
you, cousin, and I would never do anything to cause you pain. After much
thought, I have come to the conclusion that you are indeed incapable of such an
emotion.”

Draco really should have been offended at Charles’
forthright cynicism. But it was hilarious to see the man who had thought he had
it all figured out questioning his beliefs. He shook his head in perplexity.

Thinking on it for several long moments, Draco realized that
he should not find his cousin’s dilemma a laughing matter. Had he not stated
such was his belief many times over? His whole perspective of love and women
was based on one disastrous affair that had left his pride in shreds and his
heart bruised. Since that devastating experience, he determined to never put
himself in such a vulnerable position again. He had buried what remained of his
naiveté of his youth and named the gentle sensibility of so-called love what it
really was—lust. He slaked his manly needs with willing women. In the near two
decades since his engagement, the green youth that he had been had managed
tolerably, cleaving to his rigid principles where women were concerned. From
the moment he had first set eyes on the Beauty de Neige, his whole world had
turned upside down. He could not help it. He wanted Bianca as he had never
wanted anything else. Now he was faced with the task of explaining his
turnabout to his cousin.

“Do not discard all your theories just yet, Charles.”

At Draco’s dry tone, Charles studied his cousin. Draco’s
lips twisted in the semblance of a grin and the haunted look in his dark eyes
had Charles gasping in shock. Then his expression brightened. He smiled smugly.
“You have fallen in love with her.” It was a statement not a question.

Thrusting his hands through his hair in a show of
frustration, Draco turned away, mumbling something unintelligible.

“What was that you said, cousin? Could you please repeat
it?”

Draco turned to face his cousin and glared at him fiercely.
“Yea. I love her. Damn it to hell.” He ground out the curse as he dropped his
forehead on his arm stretched over Inferno’s back.

Charles laughed long and hard. “So, the great warrior, the
famous Black Dragon of Normandy, had finally been taken down by a small bit of
feminine fluff.” It took him several moments to collect himself. Draco emerged
from the stall and collared him, sobering his humor. His laughter died but he
grinned knowingly at his cousin.

“A bit of advice, my Lord Draco. When you tell the lady of
your feelings, you should refrain from bellowing it at her. Women tend to be
very sensitive about such things.”

With a disgusted snort Draco gave him a slight shove before
turning to make sure the latch on the stall was closed. He then scooped up a
small bucketful of grain and poured it into the feeding trough.

“Come, cousin, you know what I say is true.” The teasing
tone had disappeared from his voice. “You do plan to ask for her hand in
marriage, do you not?” The joking tone in his voice turned to a challenging
one.

At the threatening look he received from his large, dark
cousin, Charles threw up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and took a healthy
step back. “I am relieved to find that you are as human as the rest of us,
Draco. So why are you so bothered?” He watched as his cousin moved to a bench
across the way and sat down heavily. Charles took a seat next to him, ignoring
the ominous sound of creaking beneath their combined weight.

“I love her, Charles.”

“And that is the dilemma?”

“Yes,” he grumbled as he held his head in his hands.

“Well, I really see no problem with it, but I will warn you,
cousin.” Charles waited for Draco to look up at him before he continued. “The
new suitor who arrived at the castle this afternoon might prove to be a real
problem. He is the kind of fanatic who, once he makes up his mind about what he
wants, does not give up until he possesses it. Do you understand what I am
telling you? I would suggest you tell the lady your intentions as soon as
possible before she decides to look elsewhere thinking that you are a lost
cause.”

“It is impossible, Charles. Telling her how I feel would be
the worst thing I could do. She deserves better. She deserves a young, handsome
man who would spoil her and coddle her to her heart’s content. She would be
better off with someone else.”

“How can you say that? She could never find a better man,
cousin.”

A snort of derision followed his words. “Do not be a fool,
Charles. I am an old, cold-blooded, battle-scarred, sullen bastard.”

“Ha. Your scars are badges of your honor and loyalty to the
realm. Being born on the wrong side of the blanket was no fault of yours. And
it has nothing to do with who you are and if she has come to care for you
despite all of that, then she shows good judgment and is worthy of your love.
Furthermore, a cold-blooded man would be incapable of rescuing an orphaned
chimney sweep with no future to speak of and giving him a chance at a decent
life. As for sullen, well three out of four are not all that bad.”

A reluctant half-smile flickered across Draco’s face, and
his mood began to brighten. He wanted to believe Charles’ words. He thought
about Bianca’s response to his kisses and caresses and a spark of hope bloomed
deep within his soul. Perhaps he did have a chance with her.

“I will think on what you say, Charles. But do not expect
miracles. I still consider myself to be too old and too set in my ways to be
taking on such a young maiden.”

“Never believe that, Draco. Well, my work is finished here.
I have a beautiful maiden of my own awaiting me.” Charles rose to take his
leave, but as he reached the door, he paused and turned, his face a mask of
serious warning. “My intention for seeking you out was to warn you about your
lady’s new suitor. I was not jesting. He arrived earlier today and if I were
you, my friend, I would keep my eyes and ears open. He seems remarkably
determined to gain the duke’s approval for a match between him and the
beautiful Lady Bianca. My impression of the man is that he will not be easily
dissuaded.”

An unholy light blazed in Draco’s eyes at his cousin’s
words. “Have no fear. I am not about to let some young lordling keep me from my
goal. It has been awhile since anyone defeated the Black Dragon.”

With an understanding nod, Charles turned and left Draco to
his thoughts.

Though his spirits had been somewhat renewed, Draco was not
sure how to proceed. He was not ready to confess his true feelings to his lady.
With a sigh of frustration, he buried his face in his hands. But his moment of
solitude was again interrupted.

The faint scent of jasmine assailed his nose and even
without raising his head to look, he knew he was no longer alone. Slowly he
raised his head, expecting to find the woman he had been obsessing about
standing near him but to his disappointment and annoyance, he found the old
gypsy woman, Veryalda, instead. He groaned his irritation. What the hell was
going on? First Charles offering his words of advice and now this? It was as if
they had joined forces to gang up on him for the same cause.

“What is the uncertainty, my boy?”

Draco could not remember anyone having called him
boy
since he was a youngster. It brought back old, forgotten memories of his
childhood and his sweet, loving mother. They had been happy enough back then,
but there had been moments of sadness also. He had vague memories of running to
his mother’s room in the middle of the night after a bad dream to find her
weeping piteously as she lay in the middle of her big, solitary bed. She had
always welcomed him into her warm arms and they would lie in the darkness, her
reassuring him that everything was fine.

He had never thought to ask about his father until he was a
little older and his mother returned home after several months visit at court.
It was when he had interrupted a heated argument between his mother and his
uncle that he realized he was a bastard. Loud voices had drawn not only him,
but also his younger cousin, Charles, from the mock battle they fought in the
garden around to the terrace where his mother and Charles’ father sat. Until
that day, he had not thought much about who his father was. As he had listened
to the conversation, he realized that he did indeed have a father but one who
did not want him or the new babe his mother found she was carrying.

The harsh words between the two siblings were hurtful and
bitter. Draco’s uncle lashed out at his mother, admonishing her that her lover
would never wed her. That her lover already had a wife and family and he was
using her in a momentary self-gratifying affair while he was at court. It had
spread through the aristocracy that the man had been using her and he cared not
how it ended.

The memory of that day and his mother’s tear-ravaged face
when she learned those truths was burned forever into his mind. His mother had
slipped into a dream world of her own, refusing to accept the truth. Later when
she gave birth to his younger brother, she had told him that his father would
come some day and they would be a happy family. But when he was older and had
asked her outright who his father was, she just shook her head and slipped back
into her dream world where everything was serene and everyone lived happily
ever after.

Then he had proceeded to fall in love with a young lady who
had totally turned his world upside down and he knew then how his mother had
felt. But he refused to let her later rejection turn him into the pale ghost
his mother had become just before she died. The last time he visited her, she
was on her deathbed, welcoming her departure from this world. She had been but
eight and thirty but she looked much older. She had begged him to take care of
his younger brother, Cynric. That was when his brother had only been fifteen
and Draco was already a seasoned warrior who had seen years of bloody battles.
He gave her his word as he held her small, fragile hand and she had taken her
last breath and passed over into a more peaceful place, taking with her the
identity of his father.

It was those things that came to mind as he looked into the
face of the old gypsy, lost for a few moments in her haunting eyes. He shook
his head and wondered why his mind had wandered so far from his present
predicament.

“What do you want, old woman?” His words came out soft, but
there was a definite ring of steel to them that could not be missed.

“I heard rumors of a certain knight and lady who have come
to an impasse and might have need of the services of a clairvoyant to give them
some guidance. But it is apparent that you are uneasy in your thoughts and mood
and that now might not be the time to offer them. What could be the matter,
hmm?”

Draco stared unbelievingly at the old woman. She stood
resolutely before him, cloaked in her hooded black velvet mantle like a ghostly
apparition. When he had first met Veryalda, he had thought that she was old
beyond time. But here in the dimly lit stables, she seemed to have an ageless
air about her. He peered closer and decided that there was something familiar
about her. She was old and wrinkled, but it was her violet eyes, which gazed at
him with warmth and life, that held his attention. She reminded him of someone,
but he could not think of who, so he let the notion pass. He was not in the
mood for a midnight visit from yet another person wanting to give him advice on
something that was none of her business. His curt words were designed to put
her off and get rid of her.