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.
Chapter 33
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.
He grinned, his teeth flashing white, and his eyes sparkling devilishly. “Since when?” he asked, spreading her legs suddenly, and settling himself between them.
“Blaec!” she gasped, and frowned down at him, scandalized that he would take such liberties here within the hall. “Not here!” she cried softly, and peered over her shoulder.
“No one is watching, Dominique. I only wish to hold you, at any rate,” he reassured her, his tone as innocent as that of a little boy as he wrapped his arms about her waist. “Now tell me, when did you first know?”
She shivered within his arms, loving the feel of him so near. Wicked though it might be, there was something delicious about the way he was settled between her thighs. “Since the moment I fell in love with you, of course!” she answered flippantly, entwining her fingers within his silky hair.
He gazed up at her, persisting, “And when was that?”
Dominique sighed breathlessly, her heart racing with his nearness. “In the forest... I first knew it then,” she confessed, her voice husky and slightly flustered. He bit gently at her breast and she gasped. “You are a wicked, insatiable man,” she accused him, but she wrapped her legs about him, nevertheless.
He inhaled sharply, and tugged her down to sit upon his lap. Dominique cried out, laughing. “And you are a tease,” he returned huskily, leaning to touch the warmth of his mouth to hers. It seemed as though when their lips met, a chorus rang out in Dominique’s head, a symphony of heavenly voices that deafened her and infused her heart with joy.
“Stay with me, Dominique,” he rasped, “be my bride... ’Tis God’s truth that I do love you, as well,” he murmured against her mouth.
As she heard his profession of love, Dominique’s heart flowered with a gladness unlike any she’d ever known. “I will,” she said, wrapping her arms about his neck, embracing him, clinging to the promise of his words. “Only tell me, my lord,” she ventured haughtily, “when did you first know?”
“Know what?” he teased.
‘That you loved me, of course!”
“Hmmmm... did I say I did?” He peered into her eyes, mischief dancing in his own.
Dominique laughed and smacked the back of his head with her open palm—and none too softly. “Only just now!” she berated him.
“Aye! Now I recall,” he said, reaching back and rubbing his head. “Mind you, demoiselle, that I am a wounded man!” he added plaintively, but he chuckled richly.
Laughter bubbled up from the depths of her.
“When did I first know that I loved you?” He repeated the question to himself, sighing. “’Tis quite simple.” He grinned, forgetting his head and holding her close once more. He tightened his arms about her, and lowered his head, nestling the scarred side of his cheek against the pulse at her throat, listening to the quickening beat that matched his own. And for an instant he merely held her that way, savoring the simple pleasure of holding the woman he loved within his arms. He sighed then, and relented at last, “There, too, in the forest... once upon a kiss...”
Dominique pouted. “Are you certain it was not sooner?” she asked, her brows knitting. “Graeham said ’twas when you first spied me.
He chuckled softly. “Ah... well, did he now? That, I fear, was but a healthy dose of lust.”
She gasped indignantly, lowering her Up. “And how is it you know the difference now, my lord?” she asked petulantly.
“Simple,” he revealed, his voice husky. “Because I would be as content to hold you just so, Dominique... for the rest of my given days.” And then he proceeded to prove his point, though he had designs in haunting his own keep this night. He held her fast, till even the torchlight exhausted and guttered, flickering out.
And still he held her in the soft light of the candle that burned at their side; two figures entwined, sharing the same heartbeat.
Farther up the stairwell, in the darkness, two indistinguishable figures watched unobserved. And then even the two wearied, and smiling, turned and mounted the tower steps.
“You did well, m’lord,” whispered the one.
“Aye,” agreed the other. “And now I deserve my reward...”
There was a smile in the soft feminine voice as she replied, “Again, m’lord? You will kill yourself yet.”
“And die a happy man,” he returned.
Quiet laughter drifted down after them, even as their paces quickened upward, leaving the two below to follow their own amorous pursuits.
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Tanya Anne Crosby
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About the Author
Tanya has written seventeen novels, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including the New York Times and USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor, and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two dogs and two moody cats in northern Michigan.
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