Kiss of the Dragon (21 page)

“I came out here for solitude.”

“Yea, I know. But it is not in your best interest that you
be alone.”

“Then let me reiterate, I need no advice and certainly no
company. Good night, madam.” But the old gypsy ignored his rudeness.

“Ah, now I understand. You think an old woman such as
myself, knows nothing of love.” She laughed mirthlessly as she walked over to
feed Inferno an apple that she pulled from her pocket. “You remind me of your
master, my handsome brute,” she crooned to him, her voice just loud enough for
Draco to hear.

“A horse, am I?” Draco sat back and watched the gypsy woman
through narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his massive chest.

“Yea, that you are, my boy. A brutish beast to be approached
carefully, fearfully, but give him the love and attention that he craves, and
he can be gentled to the right touch.”

“So like my horse, I but need a gentle touch?”

“You have it now, my boy.”

“What are you doing here, Veryalda?”

She turned to face him, an enigmatic smile taking years from
her face. “Would you rather that I leave you to stew in your own self-doubts,
my boy?”

“And if I do?”

“That is unfortunate. I have come to offer my counsel, and
being the chivalrous knight that you are, you will not kick me out the door
without hearing me out.”

With a resigned sigh, Draco conceded to her wishes. “Very
well, Veryalda. But I am an impatient man, say what you would but be quick
about it.”

As he watched, Veryalda’s smiling animation suddenly stilled
and a composed, calmness pervaded her face. She lifted her head and stared into
the empty space over his shoulder and he turned his head to see who else had
entered the stable. There was no one there. He glanced at the old gypsy. In a
low monotone voice she proclaimed, “You need to go to her, now.” Something in
her voice made Draco tense.

“What is it, Veryalda? What do you know?” He was beside the
old woman in a flash. Consternation marred his forehead as he awaited her
wisdom.

“You waste time asking questions, my lord. Go to Bianca. Go
now!”

* * * * *

She leaned against her bolted door and sighed with relief.
She had retired early from the whirl of dancing and socializing taking place in
the ballroom. For the first time in hours, she was able to relax and gather her
thoughts and emotions. It had been a trying evening what with the newest suitor
plying for attention, along with the dozens who had been hounding her for the
last few weeks.

The Viscount of Merridew had arrived in time for the evening
meal and without Draco at her side, she had felt unprotected and exposed.
Bianca saw a reprieve when Cynric appeared and she cut a swath across the
ballroom to ask him where his brother was. Unfortunately, within moments of her
arrival at his side, he had started sneezing uncontrollably. As soon as a whiff
of her exotic perfume invaded his sensitive nostrils, he backed away from her,
apologizing for his weakness. He had been no help at all. All she was able to
make out from the occasional word that he was able to get out was that for some
reason his brother would not be making an appearance at dinner. That much was
already apparent.

It seemed that the mighty Black Dragon would hide in his
lair rather than face the truth of what existed between them. Did he not
realize that it was only a matter of time before the spark of passion that
flared between them would blaze into a fire so hot it could not be ignored?

Bianca had just made up her mind to retire to her chambers
when her stepmother cornered her with the latest of her suitors on her arm. She
had been avoiding the young nobleman and hoping to find him placed some
distance from her at the dinner table, but her stepmother had other thoughts on
the matter.

Christian Hamlin, Viscount of Merridew was an Englishman,
the most cocksure horse’s arse Bianca had ever had the misfortune to meet in
her entire life. It was possible that he was even more pompous and
thicker-skinned than the Spanish duke had been. Not only was he greatly
condescending to everyone he came in contact with, but he made it clear from
the moment he entered her home, that he would accept her for his wife-to-be
only because she was a wealthy heiress. He had been heard to comment to his
valet that he only suffered being in the “bloody provincial countryside”
because he needed to marry well and the Lady Bianca de Neige was the best
candidate he could find. She had a title as well as the wealth to satisfy his
greed.

Through her large network of spies, Bianca had gained the
information about the new arrival before she had descended to dinner that
evening. And if she had been given the choice, she would not have bothered with
the man. But the choice had been taken from her. Heloise had issued a special
invitation to the Viscount to dine at the head table, to be Bianca’s dinner
partner. Thus, she was truly trapped in her obligation.

Dinner started well enough with introductions to the new
arrivals followed by polite chatter from the company around the table. The
first sign that she might be in trouble was when Bianca felt a hand on her
thigh. She had been about to scoop a mouthful of tender venison into her mouth
when shock froze her movements. She turned her head and found the viscount
looking at her with a gleam in his beady, weasel eyes.

“Remove your hand this instant, my lord,” she whispered
fiercely. His thin lips formed into a sly smile, telling her plainly that he
did not take her protest seriously. The English weasel had the audacity to move
his hand higher and squeeze her thigh suggestively. Her fierce look should have
warned him, but he was so sure of himself that he ignored her rejection.

“I would have us become better acquainted, my sweet.” He
bowed his head toward her, boldly placing his mouth on her neck as he murmured
against her soft skin. “What say you, we rendezvous in your bedchambers for a
little slap and tickle later?”

It took Bianca only an instant to extract herself from the
man’s clutches as she gave him a shove that nearly toppled his chair backward.
He yipped in alarm and caught hold of the table edge, saving himself from
disaster. “Damn it, lady! What the bloody hell has gotten into you?” He glared
at her, his face twisted in anger.

“You and your lack of manners, my lord, are more than I am
willing to tolerate. You are overly bold with your hands and insulting in your
innuendoes. If a simple ‘no’ does not suffice, then I will use any means I have
to make myself understood.” They glared at each other for several moments until
Heloise, who sat next to Bianca, broke in, demanding her attention with a sharp
pinch on her arm.

“Ouch!” Bianca turned and glared at her stepmother as she
rubbed her reddening skin.

“You are not being very cordial, Bianca,” she whispered in
Bianca’s ear. “Your father bade me tell you that he wants you to consider the
Viscount as a possible match. The duke is very impressed with his lordship.”

“If my father wishes me to consider the viscount, he should
have the courtesy to tell me so himself. If I choose not to accept this
Englishman as a suitor, he will honor my decision. The viscount is naught but
an ill-mannered, contemptuous boor.” The haughty tone of voice she used with
her stepmother only succeeded in making that lady furious and she took her
revenge the only way she knew would have any effect on the little chit.

“You know your father is not feeling well this evening.
Perhaps you should learn to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, at least for the
evening, and try to be an obedient and dutiful daughter. You will refrain from
causing your father any more pain and heartache than you already have, Bianca.
The duke is not getting any younger and it would be a shame if he had to spend
his twilight years knowing that his daughter defied his every wish. I swear,
Bianca, you give him more grief than his old body can handle.”

Heloise’s caustic remark hit home. Guilt swept through
Bianca and she was momentarily speechless. She had never before thought that
the small bouts of illness that her father suffered of late were due to her.
Did he find her so troublesome that he needed to take to his bed just to
overcome heartache? She had noticed that he had these episodes of ill health
more frequently in the past few weeks.

With her mind laden down with guilt and worry for her
father, Bianca barely noticed the viscount, who had decided to behave himself
during the rest of the meal. When the tables were cleared away and the dancing
began for the rest of the evening’s entertainment, Bianca excused herself early
with the excuse of feeling unwell and fled to her chambers where she found
solace in her own company.

As soon as her maid helped her out of her gown and into her
nightgown she gave Leia the night off to spend as she wished. She did not want
her hovering over her like a mother hen.

She glanced at her writing table but found that she had lost
her inspiration for writing for the time being. Instead, she sat down at her
dressing table and spent long moments brushing out her long, black, silky mane
of hair before plaiting it into a thick braid.

Her pensive mood turned quickly to melancholy as her
thoughts flew to what her stepmother had said about her father. He had seemed
to age greatly in the last few months. This sad fact worried her. He had always
been an active man, maybe not as lively as he had been as a young man, but for
his age, he was in excellent condition, or so she thought. Tomorrow she would
seek out Galen and ask him if there was something that could be done for her
father. Maybe he had a potion that would help.

When she finally climbed into her bed, Bianca feared sleep
would elude her with her head filled with so many worries. But she was more
tired than she had first thought. As her mind conjured up a vision of Draco’s
ruggedly handsome face, she drifted off within a short time to dream of her
great Black Dragon.

* * * * *

“Awaken, my beauty, your dream lover is here to make your
body sing with passion until the first rays of dawn. Awaken from your slumbers,
my beauty, let me show you what it is like to be a real woman.” The words of
seduction, spoken softly against her ear, slowly broke through the thick haze
of sleep that surrounded her. The hushed resonance of the whispering voice
filled the darkened room, bringing her fully awake. It took a moment to
comprehend that she was not dreaming. Confused about what was happening, she
opened her eyes and nearly screamed at the dark, shadowy figure that hovered
over the side of her bed.

“I will caress every inch of your petal-soft skin. I will
taste the nectar of your ripe full lips and lower.” Bianca could not believe
that Draco had finally come to her and from his seductive whispered words he
was ready to admit that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Here and now.
Her heart jumped with joy and a smile formed on her lips. She had fallen asleep
dreaming of this moment and now her dream was coming true.

She raised her hand and with trembling fingertips she
caressed his face, which was hidden in the shadows. After running her fingers
across his smooth cheek, she paused.

“My lord?” In her mind’s eye, she pictured Draco’s
whisker-roughened cheeks and the scar that marked his cheek and moved her
fingertips up and down, finding it smooth and unmarked. Even as her brain began
to process the information, she snatched back her hand and shrank back into her
pillows. What was going on here? As the last fog of sleep swept from her mind,
she realized that Draco would never spout such flowery words to her. In truth,
whoever stood next to her bed sounded like one of the wandering minstrels who
came to the castle to fill her ears with their outrageous flattery.

Then a horrible thought came to her that she was indeed
dreaming and her dream had turned into a nightmare in which her dream lover had
changed into a dark, shadowy demon. Yes, this was only one of her dark dreams.
She closed her eyes tight for several moments and commanded herself to wake up.
But when she opened her eyes, the shadow was still there.

“Draco?”

“No, my sleeping beauty. I have no wish to hear that
bastard’s name upon your luscious lips. It is my own name that you must learn
to say.” The whisper was muffled and she strained to understand his words.
Uneasiness began to fray away the edges of her sleep-fogged mind and Bianca
realized that she was indeed wide-awake.

There was an intruder in her bedchamber! A man and he was
not Draco as she first thought. Grasping the edge of her coverings, she eased
them up to her chin and took a deep breath, readying herself to scream for
Jabulani. But then reality flooded in and she remembered that her giant
protector had vanished earlier in the day and she was without a guardian.
Terror filled her mind and then comprehension that she was quite alone in her
bedchamber with a strange man trying to crawl in bed with her.

“Say my name, my beauty. Say, Christian.”

“Merridew.”

The low rumble like distant thunder came from the vicinity
of the doorway of her chamber. There was no mistaking Lord Draco’s fury as he
drawled out the name. Then a spark flared, giving light to the darkened room.

When the Englishman saw the huge, scarred warrior, standing
in the open doorway holding a candelabrum, he swallowed noisily and opened his
mouth to try to explain his presence in the lady’s chambers. But at the
implacable expression on the face of the infamous Black Dragon, he perceived
that he had made a grave error in coming there. A hard knot of real fear
twisted his gut and he was terrified that he would not make it out of this room
alive. When he had been presented with the notion of compromising the notorious
beauty, he had not been expecting to have to slay a dragon to reach his prize.

“I have not touched her.” He defended himself as he eased
off the bed. He slowly rose to his full height, trying to appear tall as he
faced this giant. His usual haughtiness was the only weapon he had at his
disposal so he used it shamelessly. “I was here at the lady’s request. We made this
assignation earlier this evening. Now it seems that the lady has changed her
mind,” he lied as he tried to bluff his way out of his present predicament.