Once Upon a Kiss (40 page)

Graeham
nodded, and Dominique could tell that the telling of this particular tale
pained him considerably. “At any rate... the boys’ sire at once began to count
the days since their espousals, and found them too few in number. He found,
too, that the dates coincided with the final time the wife had last seen the
dead betrothed, and though he loved her... he could not keep himself from
wondering. Even as she denied it vehemently, it plagued him. But the one son,
he could not deny, for he was too much like himself. The other...” His jaw
tightened. “The other he shunned.”

For an
instant there was only silence between them, for Dominique knew not what to
say. “Did he never accept Blaec?”

“Do you
know the scar Blaec bears upon his cheek?” he asked her by way of response.

Dominique
nodded.

“
’
Twas done by my father,” Graeham revealed. “Blaec
wanted so desperately that our father should be proud of him upon his
knighting, and when my father stepped in to administer the colee, Blaec’s eyes
did shine.”

He
breathed in deeply, closing his eyes with the memory, and when he reopened
them, they were shimmering with tears. “If my own heart was fraught with joy
and pride that my father would at last accept him, Blaec’s was near to
bursting. My brother knelt there, his shoulders straight, his head lifted
proudly, waiting patiently, unable to conceal the pleasure in his eyes as my
father removed his sword from his scabbard.”

Graeham’s
jaw worked with emotion as he relived the moment. “And then my father reared
his arm back, and he smote him with the hilt of it—with all the strength
of his body. God’s truth...” His voice broke. “I thought he shattered every
bone in Blaec’s face.

“Blaec
fell backward from the blow, and then recovered himself, jolted. Yet he did
nothing but kneel again before our father, still reeling from the buffet.
God... he knelt there, blood flowing from his wound, and his eyes shadowing
with pain even as I watched, but he took that blow like a man.”

Tears
streamed down Dominique’s face. She could not speak, imagining him so spiritually,
broken. “He lied to me about the scar,” she said choking on the words. “He lied
when I asked...” Her heart broke for the little boy he’d been—she wanted
to reach back in time and hold him, tell him that she loved him.

Graeham
nodded. “It surprises me not, for he would never speak of it after.” He smiled
sadly. “Until you came, my brother’s emotions were scant. He showed them not at
all—neither anger nor joy. Yet since you arrived here at Drakewich, I
have seen them both aplenty... beginning from the moment you rode into the
bailey. You should have seen his face... Aye, he loves you, Dominique,” he told
her. “Now I ask you again... do you love him?”

She
laughed nervously, shrugging. “He’s such a domineering brute.”

Graeham
chuckled at her response. “Funny you say so, but I did not ask you what you
thought of him,” he debated, “I asked what you felt...”

Dominique
sighed deeply. “Aye,” she relented, her eyes shimmering with tears all over
again. “I do, Graeham... with every piece of my heart and my soul. I do.”

His
eyes crinkled. ‘Then you must go to him, for he’ll not come to you. ’Tis long
now been Blaec’s philosophy that he not pursue what he may not have. Lest a
prize fall into his lap, he’ll not see it.”

Dominique nodded, and Graeham stood to go.

“He is
in the hall below if you would seek him,” he disclosed. “And now, alas, I am
off to bed once more.” He winked at her, grinning mischievously. “Lest Alyss
spy me upon my feet, and decide not to tend me any longer.”

Dominique
smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”

He
stood looking down upon her an instant longer, and then said, “Go to my brother
with my blessings, Lady Dominique.” His eyes sparkled once more. “Make my
domineering brother happy,” he urged her, “tell him what is in your heart. He
will receive it well, I assure you.” And with that he turned to go, leaving
Dominique to consider his words.

But she
didn’t consider them long. She rose from the bed determinedly, refusing to pity
herself any longer. What was done was done, and naught could reverse it. And
the last thing she intended was to lose the man she loved, as well.

Not
wanting him to see her with her face stained with tears, she washed it quickly
over the lavatory, and then brushed her hair loose, letting it flow over her
shoulders as it would— there was little else she could do for the riotous
mass. And then after finding and lighting a taper, she made her way down the
stairs, halting abruptly at the foot of it.

She
found him easily enough, though he sat in the dark, for the hall was deserted
else wise. The servants, having finished with their labors, had dispersed. Only
one torch remained lit, braced upon the far wall; its light cast his shadow
into twisted forms at his back. He sat dejectedly, his head within his hands,
brooding.

Seeing
him there, she felt her heart trip. Dominique didn’t want him to feel the
guilt, didn’t want him to hurt. She wanted to put her arms about him and hold
him, soothe him.

She
wanted to run to him.

He heard her before he saw her.

Seeking the sound, Blaec removed his hand from his
face, raking it down over his whiskered jaw, and when he spied her coming into
the hall, his breath caught within his throat. Like some faerie angel she
drifted toward him, her ivory gown swirling about her feet with the draft, a
lighted taper in hand. She held her hand about its flame, protecting it, lest
it go out, and it reflected upon her face.

Like the night he’d made love to her by
candlelight, she froze when their gazes met, looking as though she would run
did he so much as open his mouth to speak. The wavering glow illumed her eyes,
and caught the glints of copper in the hair that flowed over her shoulders.
Like snow before the sun’s heat, his heart melted within him.

He swallowed, for it was the first time he’d set
eyes upon her since their return to Drakewich. God’s truth, he’d feared to look
within her eyes, only to spy the hatred and revulsion there.

He couldn’t have borne it.

Yet as she neared—though he could spy the
evidence of her tears in her red-rimmed eyes, and her pink little nose—he
saw none of those emotions, and his pulse began to hammer like that of an
untried youth as she came to stand before the lord’s table.

“Dominique,” he began, but found his tongue too
thick to continue, his mouth too dry.

They stood staring at each other an instant—though
only an instant, for from somewhere above them came the most ungodly sounds.
Dominique started visibly at the sounds, her face twisting in startle, and then
at once she seemed to regain her composure.

Her brows lifted, and her lips curved at the corners.
“It seems as though Drakewich has been inhabited by spirits in my absence,” she
said saucily.

Blaec chuckled softly, glancing toward the
ceiling, his own lips curving. “’Tis Graeham...”

“And Alyss... I know,” she said, ducking her head
and smiling.

By the light of the taper, he watched as her blush
spread down her creamy throat to her bosom. “I recognize the sounds,” she
confessed, laughing softly, her blush deepening. She met his gaze once more.
“In truth... I used to believe that she and William were fighting when I was
younger.”

Blaec cocked a brow. “I can see why,” he said.

“And later... well, enough to say that it always
amazed me someone so timid and so quiet as Alyss could be so boisterous...
er... during that time...” She nodded abashedly. “Well, you know, my lord...”

He did, and he chuckled at her guarded phrasing.
Yet he did not share her squeamishness. In fact, the very thought of the word
aroused him.
She
aroused him.
“It seems my brother is a noisy lover as well...” He inhaled
sharply and grew sober suddenly, shaking his head and exhaling. He leaned back
into his chair. “All those years... and I never knew...”

“Knew what?”

He shook his head, knowing Graeham would not have
him share his private affairs, not even with Dominique. “‘Naught,” he yielded.
“Naught of consequence.”

And once again there was silence between them.

Dominique swallowed visibly and parted her lips to
speak. He waited; nothing came.

“I...” She glanced away, and then back, staring at
his shoulder, looking somewhat disconcerted. “I am sorry for your wound,” she
said at last, again meeting his gaze, her blue eyes sorrowful. “H-How does it
fare?”

Blaec shrugged. “’Tis naught.” His voice softened
at her disheartened look, reassuring her, “Truly... Alyss tended it in less
than five minutes’ time.”

She peered down at the candle in her hands, hiding
her face from him, yet it only managed to reveal the shimmer of tears upon her
lashes. His jaw clenched at seeing them. He wanted to spare her from tears the
rest of her life.

“Aye... well, I suppose I should thank you for
coming for me,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. ‘Though I would not
have blamed you had you left me there.” Her blue eyes returned to him. “I
should never have gone at all.”

Blaec’s heart wrenched for her.

She deserved better. Bastard! he railed at William
silently. God... he wanted to make up for everything that whoreson had done to
her. “I am sorry, too,” he said. “Though mostly I am sorry you were forced to
witness his death,” he said truthfully. “Can you forgive me, Dominique?”

“My lord... there is nothing to forgive. I knew
someone would meet death,” she said. “I only prayed it would not be you.”

Relief jolted through him. Yet as much as her
words eased him, they aggrieved him as well, for what must she have suffered at
his hands that she could absolve him so easily of her brother’s murder? “Did he
harm you?”

She shook her head at once. “Only my heart,” she
admitted, looking grief-stricken. “He... he...” Her eyes closed, and Blaec
thought he’d spare her the grief of recounting the tale just now. Some other
time he would hear it... when she was ready to speak it.

Providing she didn’t leave him. She was by no
means obligated to stay. Stephen would surely welcome her as his
ward—would leap at the opportunity, in fact, to offer both Dominique and
Amdel to some fortunate man.

And any man would gladly accept them.

Over his dead body.

He gritted his teeth. “I already know, Dominique,”
he said softly. “Alyss told me everything.”

She nodded, and seemed to be battling her
emotions. “Blaec,” she began.

“You need not say it,” he reassured her.

Her eyes gleamed with tears. “I love you.”

He stiffened. “What did you say?”

“I... I said that I love you.” She spoke the words
like a child standing in the shadows, afraid of the dark.

Joy rolled through him like thunder. He swallowed
convulsively. “You love me?” he asked, choking on the question.

Dominique nodded uncertainly, blinking back the
tears from her eyes.

His voice was gruff with emotion. “Come here,
Dominique.”

She did as he bade her, hesitating only an instant
before coming around the table to his side. Without a word, Blaec removed the
candlestick from her grasp and set it down upon the table, sliding it down out
of their way. He then lifted her up, and sat her, too, upon the table before
him. She gasped in surprise, but remained, nevertheless, with nary a protest,
though she appeared never more bewildered.

He gazed into her beautiful blue eyes, and bent to
grasp her ankles dangling before him. Cradling them, he brushed at her flesh
gently with his thumb, and then moved up to caress her calves beneath her gown,
raising it slightly in the process. “Do you know how badly I wanted to do this
the first time that I saw them exposed?” he asked her, caressing her legs. “Do
you remember, Dominique... when you caught your gown dismounting?”

Dominique felt as though her heart would stop at
his touch. His attentions never ceased to steal her breath away. She nodded
mutely, her heart tripping as he moved his fingers slightly higher.

“Now repeat to me what you said mere moments ago,”
he demanded silkily, “lest I misunderstood you...”

Dominique caught her breath sharply. He was
scandalous and domineering... and oh, so strong... yet he possessed such a
gentle touch. “God’s truth, but you are an arrogant brute,” she told him.

“Am I?” he asked, unrepentant. He lifted her gown
to her thigh. “And...”

“And I love you, even so,” she relented at last,
frowning down at him as she endeavored to lower her gown. She slapped his hand
beneath her dress, laughing. “You are incorrigible,” she swore vehemently.