Once Upon a Kiss Read Online Free Page B

that
tentative bond her brother was busy forging. “Aye,” she answered, swallowing,
trying to sound as fierce as she was able, but failing miserably. She swallowed
her pride as well as her anger. “My lord... you shall find naught untoward with
either of us, of that I assure you.”
    His green eyes bored into her blue ones, again the
invasion so tangible, she was forced to take another step backward.
    “Only time will tell, demoiselle.”

Chapter 3

     
    Dominique
tried in vain to calm her nerves.
    Pacing
the confines of the chamber she was to call her own until the ceremony, she
found herself seething over the way Blaec d’Lucy had all but accused her. Nor
could she so easily forget the manner in which he’d abandoned her here within
his bedchamber—aye, his bedchamber, curse him to damnation! How would she bear it, with
all of his possessions amassed about her?
    “Pardon
the inconvenience,” he’d said with very little remorse, “but as you are already
aware, we did not expect you so soon. There are no other accommodations
available. Nonetheless, you must feel free to make my chamber your own as I
have no need of it.” His eyes mocked her.
    “I
shall need my coffers,” she’d informed him at once.
    “Of
course,” he’d said, sounding taxed. “Perchance you’ve yet another behest? Tell
me, demoiselle, is there aught else I can do to assist in making my lady more
comfortable?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.
    She’d
felt the condemned prisoner, given her last request in that moment. “Nay,”
she’d answered petulantly. And then, “Naught save to send me my maid.”
    His
fingers had tightened about the edge of the door, his knuckles
whitening—evidence to his displeasure.
    “Please,”
she added.
    She
could tell it pained him to aid her in any fashion. “Anything else,
demoiselle?”
    “Nay!”
she said, though, in truth, she wished she could think of something just to vex
him.
    “Then
you should have yourself a pleasant rest,” he’d imparted coolly, and with that,
withdrew, turning and virtually slamming the heavy wooden door in her face. The
wrathful sound of it rattled her bones.
    Arrogant,
misbegotten cur.
    When
she was mistress here, she would speak to Graeham; Perhaps Graeham would
enfeoff his brother and remove him far from her presence once and for all!
    And
perhaps not... they did seem rather bound to each other, she reflected,
nibbling irately at her lower lip. The very notion aggrieved her. Particularly
so when she considered what little voice her mother had had in her own home.
Truly she had hoped for more.
    Looking
about wearily, Dominique couldn’t help but note the simplicity of the chamber.
Though it was large by most standards, all that occupied the room was a bed, a
basin, and a brazier, along with a few coffers. Still, it was filled with him —all
that he owned: his shield, his armor, his scent...
    But
that was ludicrous! she reproved herself, shuddering at the notion. How could
she possibly know his scent? And yet somehow, she did.
    She sat
upon his bed, testing it, trying desperately not to think of it as his bed.
Instead, she returned her thoughts to her mother. In truth, she scarcely
thought of her mother—or her father, for that matter—for her mother
had perished of fever when Dominique had been naught but a child. Her father
died long before she came of age—murdered by the lord of Drakewich in a
dispute over land in the eleventh year of Stephen’s reign. She shook her head
at the injustice of it all—to be offered now in wedlock to the son of her
father’s murderer! It was almost too much to bear.
    And yet
she could not quite summon the enmity her brother bore the d’Lucys—at
least not Graeham. Her betrothed seemed amiable enough, and she’d been much too
young to feel, much less understand, her childhood loss. Nay, she could bear no
hatred toward him.
    The
Dragon was another matter entirely.
    For
him, though she knew him not at all, Dominique felt