Once Upon a Kiss (28 page)

Damn, damn,
damn... it was always when Blaec was not there that he needed him most. Yet it
was his own fault, Graeham acknowledged irritably, that his brother was not
with him, for it was he who had commanded him to remain behind. Clenching his
jaw, Graeham reined in, his skin prickling, for he knew instinctively that it
was at this point in which their greatest danger lay.

And the
decision was solely his.

Though
he retained his calm, the palms of his hands began to sweat profusely. At this
moment his attraction to the church had never waxed deeper. This was not his
strength, by God. It was Blaec’s. He laughed derisively. What absurdity...
Driven by guilt for what his father had done to his brother, for his own part
in the injustice, he had placed his life in danger so many accursed times...
and now did if he died... he would bequeath his brother with a legacy of the
selfsame burden. Scarcely could he bear the thought.

It
seemed his men understood his dilemma, for one knight came forward at once,
offering to scout the hill. He ordered another to the right of the thicket. And
another to scout within. Though uneasily, all three obeyed at once, cantering
away, while Graeham watched them, sweating like a hog beneath the sweltering
August sun. Yet though his face was soaked with perspiration, he resisted the
urge to remove his helm, knowing without looking that his men watched him.

No
sooner had the three ridden away, less than twenty yards distance, the ruse was
revealed. The knight riding for the thicket scarcely had time to turn about, so
fast was he descended upon. He was cut down as the attackers stampeded past
him. His scream of pain rent the air.

‘To
me!” Graeham thundered. ‘To me!” Wily bastards! From the thicket, they might have
fallen upon them had they passed from either side. Were it the last bloody
thing he did, he planned to skewer their ignoble leader through. It’d be the
finest thing his father’s sword had ever done.

With
the clashing of metal, the battle was joined, and Graeham found himself, sooner
than expected, face-to-face with the iron-helmed leader.

Masked
with ventail and a helm, the nose guard distorted his face, cutting it visually
in half. The fiend left only his eyes exposed to reveal his identity but Graeham
instantly knew those eyes: brilliant sapphire blue.

“Bastard!”
he cried out as his mount reared beneath him. Vicious laughter rang in his
ears, even as did the metallic peal of their first clashing blows.

They were alone upon the tower roof. Another
moment of solitude, stolen.

As Dominique gazed out over the wall, she felt as
though she were suspended somewhere between heaven and earth. From this great
height, the land stretched far below them, revealing the horizon as never she
had beheld it before.

Breathtaking.

Nor had she ever been so deliriously happy.

Like a whisper from God, telling her all would be
well, a gentle breeze whipped at her face, her hair, her dress, lifting her
spirits as though on angel’s wings. She was bewitched. So much so that she did
not hear Blaec as he came up behind her once more, embracing her, the heat of
his body warming her from her nape to the curve of her hips. She gasped as his
big hands slid about her waist, and she reveled in the way that he held her...
as though he cherished her.

He squeezed her gently, and she smiled, turning
her head, her eyes radiating the pleasure that flooded her at his touch. “’Tis
beautiful, is it not?” he asked. Her gaze returned to the landscape, and his
arms tightened about her waist. “
You
are beautiful,” he whispered fiercely.

Smiling, Dominique laid her head back against his
chest, gazing up at the pale blue sky, her heart swelling with joy. A dove
winged its way past them, landing gracefully at a higher place upon the tower
wall, and she gazed up at Blaec to see if he was watching. He was, indeed. In
profile, his face was harsh in the most beautiful sort of way. Her eyes fell
once again upon the scar that marred his cheek.

This time she could not have held herself back had
she tried. She reached up, stroking the pale outline of it with the tips of her
fingers, her eyes dulling at the smooth feel of it. It ached her to know that
he had suffered pain at all, and it brought to mind the reality of what he was.

He was a knight. A warrior, loyal to his brother
and his king. Even were they to resolve the insurmountable obstacles that lay
between them, there would always be the possibility that he would be taken from
her in war. She shivered, scarcely able to bear the thought. With the reckless
desperation of one who had been too long without air, she wanted to breathe him
within her so that they might never part.

“How did you receive it?”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he
gazed down upon her. “What?”

She frowned at him, removing her hand from his
face, and placing both of hers upon his own at her waist. “You know very well
what I wish to know,” she accused him petulantly.

His green eyes twinkled as one hand slid up to
squeeze her breast. “What is that?” he countered playfully, changing the
subject effortlessly.

Dominique shrieked with surprise, and laughing,
tried to disengage herself from his embrace. But he held her firmly within his
arms, unwilling to release her.

“Nay, do not,” he said. “I’ll not let you go.”

‘Then tell me,” she demanded of him.

His eyes sobered slightly. “If you must know... I
was sliced with a shaving knife by a careless barber.”

“Nay!” Dominique was incredulous. “Say it cannot
be so!”

He hugged her, nuzzling her neck playfully. “Ah,
but ’tis true,” he swore, his breath warm against her neck.

“That is not what I have been told.” She sagged
against him, feeling the answer of her body in the tautening of her breasts as
he nibbled her neck, nipping her lightly.

His tone was unconcerned. ‘Tell me what it is that
you heard, demoiselle.” He lifted a hand to cup her breast, while the other
explored the flat contours of her belly, and his lips explored her neck.

Dominique’s breath quickened. “I heard...” And
then she laughed. “If you will not stop, I cannot speak,” she berated him, but
her head lolled to one side, giving him better access. “I heard, my lord, that
you received the scar during battle,” she relented, “during some great feat of
valor.”

“Babble,” he muttered, dismissing it. He gave her
a gentle squeeze, holding her. “Yet though I like that tale better, my lady, I
can assure you...” He went silent a moment, and then he sighed, relenting,
“’Twas nothing so noble as that.”

Dominique sighed, as well. ‘Tongues do wag,” she
agreed, undone by his gentle attentions.

“Mmmmm... like this?” He tickled her neck with the
tip of his tongue, and Dominique laughed softly.

It amazed her the difference that had come over
him in the last days. He was almost like a mischievous boy, she thought. “You,
my lord,” she said dreamily, “are a very... very wicked man.”

“Hmmmmm.” He nodded, nuzzling her lazily. “So I’ve
been told, demoiselle. Yet you sound disappointed... Would you rather I
admitted the scar was suffered during battle?” he asked blithely.

“Nay!” She clutched his arms about her tightly.
“You mistake me, my lord.” And then she blurted with a wistful sigh, “Would
that this moment might never end.”

He said nothing in response, and Dominique closed
her eyes, leaning against him, wanting so desperately to ask him of their
future.

Did they even have one together?

Did they have anything at all?

For the last days they had somehow, without
speaking it, agreed not to think of this as the betrayal it was—nor of
Graeham, or that it should end. Nay, for it had been easier to pretend...

In the distance, a lone tree swayed with the
breeze, its feathered limbs arching this way and that, like some graceful
dancer beneath God’s watchful eyes. The silence between them in that instant
was so acute that Dominique could almost hear the rush of the breeze stirring
through its brilliant green leaves.

“What will Graeham say when he returns?” She
nibbled at her lower lip as she awaited his reply.

It was not forthcoming. He laid his chin atop the
pate of her head, as though reflecting upon her question and the very thoughts
were too burdensome to bear. She could feel his jaw working, tautening.

“Do you think he knows?” she persisted.

“My brother is no fool,” he said with quiet
certainty. “He knew before he left.”

He turned her about suddenly, his expression sober,
his eyes searching. Dominique willed him to see what was in her heart. Sweet
Mary, but she loved him! As he gazed at her, his expression both turbulent and
tender at once, his hands went to her shoulders.

Slowly, his eyes closing, he bent to kiss her
mouth, his lips quivering, his fingers digging into her shoulders. The look she
saw upon his face made her heart fly into her throat, made her want to cry out
in sheer pleasure, for it seemed as though he relished the very thought of
kissing her, hungered for it, even. As did she.

His tongue slid seductively along the curve of her
lips, his breath trembling as he lapped her, embraced her. Feeling the pounding
of his heart against her breast, she opened to him readily, sighing with the
joy it brought her. Dear God, she loved this man. She wanted to tell him so.
She truly did, but she wasn’t certain how he would respond. She knew he wanted
her, aye... but did he love her?

It seemed as though he did... At least she dared
to hope. And yet... his brother’s shadow fell over them both, haunting them
even at this moment.

Any day Dominique expected Graeham’s return... any
day... and then what would become of her? Of them?

She squeezed her eyes shut, for she didn’t wish to
think of that now, she wanted only to think of the feel of his smooth lips
moving like warm silk upon her own.

She clung to him fiercely, wanting him to take of
her whatever he would.

Anything.

Everything.

If he wanted to make love to her, even here, she
would let him gladly. Aye... and she would love him back... with every fragment
of her body and heart. If he wanted only to kiss her, then she wanted that, as
well. And if he wanted merely to hold her... then she would hold him back as
though her life would end without him.

And she thought it might...

Through the haze of pleasure, Dominique heard,
vaguely, the sound of a horn being blasted.

Blaec tore himself away at once, peering over her
shoulder, out over the tower wall, toward the gatehouse. It took Dominique an
instant longer to gain hold of her wits, though by his expression, she wasn’t
certain she wished to come back to reality.

His face had gone taut, his eyes narrowed.

Dominique whirled about to spy the approaching
cavalcade. From this height and distance, little more was distinguishable aside
from the glittering golden field of his banner. When she saw it, her heart
lurched.

Graeham.

“Something is wrong,” Blaec said, his voice taut,
his hands squeezing her shoulder. He released her suddenly. Pivoting about, he
raced down the tower stairs.

For an instant, her heart thundering painfully,
Dominique merely stood there. And then, taking in a fortifying breath, she
hurried after him, telling herself all would be well.

It had to be, because she could not bear the
thought of living without him.

The portcullis was already being raised when Blaec
reached the bailey. His heart hammering like an armorer’s gavel, he raced
toward the gatehouse.

“Get that damned door open!” he shouted. “Faster!”

When at last the portcullis was lifted, he went
himself to unlock the gates. Unlatching them, he drove them forward with a
strength that came from fear. With the aid of his men, the massive door began
to creak on its immense hinges. The abrasive sound, compounded by the silence
from the other side of the ironbound oaken door, made the hair of his nape
stand on end.

As the gates burst open, revealing his brother,
and merely half the contingent of men with whom he had departed Drakewich,
Blaec’s gut wrenched violently. He felt a roar rise up within him at the sight
of them, for he understood by the blood-smeared appearance of them that they
had battled. And God... the first thought that struck him was that he’d not
been there to defend his brother. Guilt gutted him from within, tearing him to
shreds.

Whilst Graeham had fought for his life, he’d
likely been abed with his bride.

God... this had been his greatest fear. That
Graeham would fight without him at his side. That his brother would die and
that he would not be there to save him.