Once Upon a Kiss Read Online Free

aside the reins and asked
pointedly, “Are you always so ill mannered, my lord?”
    “Without exception,” he replied, his lips curving
yet a fraction more.
    In truth, Dominique thought he might have been
grinning except for the wintry chill that remained in those disquieting,
scathing eyes. She wanted to smite the condescension from his face.
    “Demoiselle,” he persisted, “would you have me assist you, or nay?
I do not have all day.”
    Dominique cursed him beneath her breath, knowing
it was within his power to make this difficult passage more facile for all. But
nay! She had the distinct impression he would make it infinitely more difficult
were the choice his own.
    To the devil with him! All that truly mattered was
that Graeham d’Lucy should find her pleasing, she reminded herself. His
wrathful brother could fling himself from the highest tower window!
    He advanced upon her abruptly and Dominique’s
heart vaulted into her throat.
    “I can manage to dismount on my own, thank you
please!” Goaded into motion by the merest threat of physical contact—the
thought of his hands upon her waist—she promptly slipped to the ground.
But in her haste, the hem of her bliaut caught upon the pommel. One foot in the
stirrup, the other midway to the ground, she froze the instant she felt the
breeze upon her stockinged legs. Her gaze flew to his at once, and her eyes
widened in horror at the dark look upon his face. He shuddered—in
revulsion, she thought—and her heart tripped. “Oh!” she cried.
    He moved swiftly to aid her, as though he could
not abide the sight of her an instant longer than necessary and her breath
wedged painfully within her breast as she watched his fingers work deftly to
liberate her gown. Only when it was free did she dare breathe again.
    But to her dismay, once he’d freed her gown, he
merely held the hem, bringing it closer as though to inspect it. Dominique gave
a startled shriek as her hem rose higher whilst he tested the fabric between
his fingertips, examining it, his countenance darkening.
    “My lord, please!” she exclaimed. “Please!”
    As though recalling himself suddenly, he crushed
the fabric violently within his fist and flung it down at her feet. The hem
swished about her ankles as his gaze pierced her once more. Gooseflesh erupted
upon her skin as she slid the rest of the way to the ground under his scrutiny.
    “’Tis a mighty fine cloth,” he said, his eyes
locking with hers.
    Sweet Mary, but they were so deep and dark a
green—appearing all the darker for the sinister shadows that rimmed them.
They suited him, she decided, for they were the eyes of a man who never rested,
never trusted. They were the eyes of a dragon, she determined, and he’d lied
when he’d claimed he did not spew flames. He did, but not from his mouth. His
eyes burned her, consumed her—and still she could not tear her gaze away.
She shivered, noting the telltale muscle that ticked at his jaw, and then
abruptly he turned away. Dominique inhaled a breath, for his dismissal left her
reeling.
    ‘This way, demoiselle!”
    For an instant Dominique stood, stupefied,
watching him go, before she understood that he meant for her to follow. And
once again she bristled. Arrogant cur!
    Why she suddenly felt compelled to defend her
gown, she wasn’t certain, but something in his tone seemed to accuse her. “My
brother would have me look my best,” she informed him, barely keeping pace with
his long strides. “’Tis not every day a woman celebrates her marriage and peace
for her people!”
    “Is that so,” he mocked her, turning those
sinister eyes upon her abruptly. “Then you rejoice in this union with my
brother?”
    She lifted her chin. “Of course!” she replied. But
he merely turned from her, continuing toward the donjon.
    Dominique practically stumbled over her gown in an
attempt to keep pace, wishing fervently that she were a man so she could
challenge him properly. Lord she would love to wipe