Once Upon a Kiss (22 page)

“God’s
bloody teeth!” he exclaimed. “’Tis poison!”

“I can
explain,” she offered at once.

He spun
to face her, his visage wrathful. “Please try, demoiselle!” He hurled the
contents of the cup down upon the wooden floor at her feet.

Dominique
took a step backward at the menacing look in his eyes. Her expression screwed.
Her voice faltered. “I... I... it was an accident,” she swore.

“Another
bloody accident, demoiselle? How damned convenient!”

“I
swear it is the truth, my lord. It was an accident,” she insisted. “I was
warming the mead when...” Sweet Mary, how could she explain? She was warming
the mead when she heard his voice and started. The thought of seeing him again
was so distressing that she’d spilled the entire contents of the
vin aigre
bottle without even realizing. She’d rather swallow boiling pitch. “Fine!” she
snapped. “I tried to poison you, then! Believe it, if you will! I only wish I’d
succeeded,” she spat. And then without another word, she lifted her skirts and
raced from the solar.

In her
chamber, Dominique paced until the pads of her feet ached her. Trying to kill
him, was she? Fie! At the moment, she’d dearly love to do more than try. “I
cannot believe he would accuse me of such a thing, Alyss!”

“I’m
certain he cannot believe it, m’lady,” Alyss said reasonably.

“Nay?”
Dominique faced her maid, her cheeks suffused with impotent rage. “You did not see
his face. The man is bent upon finding me guilty of something—anything. I
had hoped that once William left, he would cease his accusations once and for
all—but nay!” There has to be a way to end this farce.

Perhaps
once she and Graeham were wed, all would resolve itself. Dominique didn’t see
any way out of the betrothal. Not when her brother was so determined to see it
through, and Graeham had already agreed. She just could not comprehend why
Graeham seemed so guarded against her.

Perhaps
he was uneasy with women? He’d never been unkind to her, not really. Perhaps he
simply had no notion how to speak with her? Perhaps he was too abashed in her
presence?

Suddenly
she knew what she must do. The instant the inspiration came to her, she
realized it was the only solution. If Graeham was too timid to come to her...
then she would go to him.

Tonight.

And if
he truly did not want her...

Well,
then, she would discover that as well.

She waited until the household was aslumber, and
then, following the trail of torches, made her way to the lord’s chamber.
Wearing naught but her linen
chainse
, she padded barefoot down the tower steps.

No one stopped her.

No one was left awake to do so.

Making her way quickly through the solar, she
pushed open the massive door and slid quickly within. From a single unshuttered
window along the far wall, moonlight spilled into the chamber, lighting it with
a ghostly glow. Like a blade of silver, it fell across the bed, illuminating
the figure entangled within its sheets much too dearly. The sight of Graeham
lying there so intimately gave her pause, though she refused to allow her feet
to hesitate.

Bolstering her courage, she hurried across the
room, only to lose her nerve as she stared down at the bed that held the
sleeping form of her betrothed.

Sweet Jesu, but he was a beautiful man.

His yellow hair was even more pale by the light of
the moon, and his features flawless in slumber. Angelic, she thought, not for
the first time. Even so, the very thought of
crawling—willingly—into his bed was disconcerting at best. Still
Dominique knew it was something she must do. She must not leave herself open
again for temptation. She must do this. She had no choice.

And she must succeed.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she carefully lifted up
the coverlet and slipped beneath it beside Graeham, her heart pounding so
wildly that she thought it would burst from her chest. Sweet Christ, how could
he sleep with it beating so loudly? Trying to soothe herself, she lay as close
to the edge of the bed as possible, taking care not to touch him—or any
part of him, for that matter.

Not yet, she told herself.

In a moment, she would.

A moment passed, and then minutes went by, and
with every second that elapsed, the beating of Dominique’s heart became more
painful to bear.

For the love of Christ, she thought hysterically,
how was she going to seduce a man she could not even bear to touch?

Move closer, she willed herself. She shook her
head, freezing at the slight movement she created, her breath arresting. Had
she moved the bed? Had he sensed her presence?

Oh, God! What if he awoke? What would she say to
him? How would she explain her bold behavior? What would he say?

Truly she was mad! And thank God, for otherwise
she would never be able to carry out such an insane plan.

But she could not carry it out, she realized
suddenly.

No matter that she told herself she must seduce
the man lying beside her, she could not move to save her soul. The inches
between them lay as wide as a chasm, and the reality of being within his bed
was more distressing than ever she could have imagined.

Closing her eyes, Dominique willed her hands to
move, to touch him, but they remained, to her dismay, steadfastly clamped at
her breast—like a dead woman! she thought frantically.

Move! she commanded herself.

Her breathing quickened so, till she felt as
though she’d raced up a thousand flights of steps—and down again!
Squeezing her eyes shut, she moved her small finger, and found that the
pounding of her heart increased with the puny effort.

Dear God, she would die here in his bed! Her heart
felt near to bursting even now!

What a fool she was!

Whatever could she have been thinking?

A panic unlike any she’d ever experienced in her
life came over her, paralyzing her wholly. Suddenly even the thought of rising
from the bed seemed an impossible task, for what if she should wake him?

But she must get up! Oh, what a coward she was! A
foolish little coward! And she’d never felt more like weeping.

To her dismay, hysterical laughter bubbled up from
the depths of her, exploding from her lips against her will, shocking
her—startling Graeham.

At the shrieking sound, he shot from the bed, and
ran like a child from a nightmare. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

Try as she might, Dominique could not cease with
her laughter, not even to catch a single breath. She clutched at her belly,
paralyzed with giggles that were anything but mirthful.

Graeham hurried to light a taper, and then held it
over her, staring down as though he thought her demented.

And she must be, for she could not stop even when
he scowled down upon her.

“Lady Dominique?” His expression was stunned, and
a little dismayed.

Dominique could not have responded to save her
life.

“By God’s holy light!” he exclaimed. “What are you
doing in my bed?”

His startled face, lit only on one side by the
light of the taper, appeared wholly sinister suddenly, twisting with the
flickering candle flame, and it was more than Dominique could bear. Her
emotions swung like a pendulum. Gasping in fright, she bolted from the bed,
only to find herself tangled in the bed sheets.

With a strangled yelp, she fell to the floor. And
God was merciful, for in her mind the lights flickered and died.

Scarcely able to believe his eyes as she fell,
Graeham hurried to the other side of the bed, hoping to catch her in time. But
he wasn’t quick enough. He reached her as she emitted a final shuddering gasp
and succumbed.

Hurriedly discarding the taper, he placed the back
of his hand against her nostrils, testing her breath. Finding it strong, he
breathed a sigh of relief. He hardly cared to add to the hostilities between her
brother and himself.

She was limp as wet cloth as he lifted her into
his arms and placed her upon his bed. He went back for the candle at once, and
with it, lit the torch within the brace alongside his bed.

What in God’s name had she been doing?

As he gazed down at her, there was a pallor to her
face that sickened him, twisted his gut. He slapped her cheek softly. Again.
“Lady Dominique!” She didn’t respond. God’s truth, but he thought her beautiful
in that instant.

Quite beautiful, though she failed to stir him.

He’d thought he’d be able to do this. He’d truly
hoped to put an end to the feud between their houses with their union. He knew
now that it was not possible. The truth had become apparent to him in the last
days. And he’d prayed to no avail. It seemed God would not hear him.

When first he’d spied her... he had thought it
possible, then. He’d thought, for truth, that if any maid could stir him to
life, it was she. But she had not, and he began to wonder now that any woman
could.

Once he’d been a man whole... until a peasant maid
for whom he and Blaec had shared a lust had come into his life. Once Blaec had
become aware of the fact that Graeham had coveted her, he had never so much as
looked at her again. And Graeham might have had her then... he might have had
he willed it so... but since that day, he’d understood that he was ever
destined to take everything his brother desired. Blaec had always dutifully
stepped aside, gladly even, and that was the crux of the problem. Some part of
Graeham would not have what was stolen. Perhaps Blaec did not care that
Drakewich was rightfully his by birth, but Graeham did. Though even had his
body not rebelled against him so long ago... even were he able to take a
woman... there would still be his vow of celibacy. He’d long ago deemed it just
penance. It might have been different had he not known the truth, but he did
know.

On his mother’s deathbed, she’d confessed
everything to him, bidding him always keep his brother near. She’d told him
everything he’d already suspected: Their father had been so certain Blaec had
not been his child, for with his dark coloring, he’d looked nothing at all like
their fair father, nor their mother, and Gilbert d’Lucy had determined soon
after his birth that Blaec had been ill conceived. And though he’d loved their
mother too much to cast her aside, Blaec had paid the price of Gilbert’s
suspicions—no matter that their mother had denied it to the end of her
days.

So as not to shame her before the eyes of men, he
had given Blaec his name. Behind their backs, Blaec, eldest son to Gilbert
d’Lucy, had been a bastard, and no more. Unloved. Unwanted. Repudiated. A
travesty, for Graeham knew the truth. Not only did they share the same womb,
but they shared the same father.

Like some unseen blade, the truth pierced
Graeham’s gut, and time would not heal the wound, though the wound was not his
own. While Blaec did not realize... the wound was his. And Graeham could not
live with the blood and guilt upon his hands any longer.

He’d taken too much undeservedly.

He shook her softly. “Dominique.”

Her eyes flew wide, and she gasped in a breath at
the sight of him hovering above her.

He shook his head, trying to understand. “What
were you doing in my bed?” he demanded, though not unkindly.

She said nothing, though her lips began to quiver.
A single tear slipped from her lashes, and rolled down her ashen cheek. Still
she lay staring at him, wide-eyed, and he asked her once more, his tone gentle,
lest he frighten her further, “Lady Dominique... what were you doing in my
bed?’

She shook her head, averting her face, and began
to weep softly. “I-I do not know,” she cried miserably. She rolled to one side,
away from him, covering her face with her hands. “I am so ashamed!”

‘Tell me why.”

He placed a hand upon her shoulder, and she rolled
to face him, her eyes glazed with tears.

“Because I was seducing you, my lord!” she
confessed.

Graeham’s brows lifted in stupefaction. There must
have been something he’d missed. “I assure you, Lady Dominique,” he said,
shaking his head. “Whatever it was you were doing... you most certainly were
not seducing me.”

At that, she began to cry all the more earnestly,
and Graeham peered nervously over his shoulder at the door, praying no one
would overhear. That was all he needed now—for everyone to know she’d
been within his bed. There would be no dealing himself out of the betrothal
then.

“But I was!” she insisted, sitting to face him. He
tried not to note the dark shadows of her nipples behind the fine pleated
linen. “And I’m so ashamed!” she wailed.