Tears of the Dragon

by Cyndi Friberg

  His eyes snapped toward the door. It inched open and four slender fingers curved around the wooden edge. The door eased inward and Lady Rowena stepped into the room.

  Dominic felt his heart slam into the wall of his chest and blood flooded his groin.

  Damn the wench! What was she about?

  She closed the door but didn’t move farther into the room. Firelight touched her face, making her smooth skin glow. He imagined that same flickering light dancing over her naked body and groaned. The golden flecks in her wide green eyes seemed to sparkle with metallic brilliance. Dominic’s hands gripped the rim of the tub so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  Had William realized what he was doing when he set this woman in his path? Dominic smiled. Silly question. Of course he knew, the wily old goat!

  “I promised I’d see to your bath. I’m a woman of my word.”

  Her voice held far more confidence than her expression. She’d somehow managed to repress the fear he’d seen moments before, but her hands trembled. If she was afraid of him, why was she here?

  “I’m quite comfortable,” he said. “You need not tarry.”

  She clutched a small vial in her right hand. “I’ve an ointment that will soothe your muscles and help you relax. May I apply it?”

  Dominic had been relaxed—until she stepped into the room.

  Just before Dominic left Windsor Castle, William had insisted he vow not to touch Rowena intimately. Dominic had been confused by the conversation, but he was beginning to understand the reason for the odd request. Had tales of Rowena’s exploits reached the ear of William Marshal?

  Old bitterness and past resentment surged through Dominic, extinguishing his building desire. Rowena looked so young and innocent, but appearances could be deceiving. Dominic had learned that lesson a long time ago.

  Curious to see how far she’d carry the game, he sat up and beckoned with his hand. “Come. Soothe me.”

  Rowena was amazed that her wobbly legs supported her weight. Sir Dominic’s naked body left her shaking and breathless. His broad shoulders and brawny arms rested along the rim of the wooden tub, every ripple and curve of his chest and abdomen available for her inspection. Thankfully the water was clouded with soap, or she might well have crumbled to the floor—or flung herself into the tub.

  Strangling a ridiculous giggle, Rowena quickly crossed the room. There was less to see from the back, but the view was no less spectacular. His back was wide and corded with muscles.

  You must be bold. You must seem eager for his embrace. Nay, she corrected herself, you must be eager for his embrace.

  Setting the vial on the floor, she raked her fingers through his sodden hair, drawing it into a mass at the nape of his neck. The heavy thickness felt wonderful tangled around her fingers. She twisted his hair into a tight coil that trailed down along his spine.

  “Why do you wear your hair long? Most soldiers keep it short so it fits more easily beneath their helm.” She needed something to distract herself from the heat and tingles flaring to life all over her body.

  “For the same reason I scrape my whiskers.”

  She laughed, leaning in until her mouth hovered over his ear. “Are we beginning another competition of words?” A shudder raked his body, and she smiled.

  “Nay.” He fidgeted, leaning slightly away. She could hear his ragged breathing and feel heat radiate off his skin. “Most men wear beards and cut their hair. I prefer my hair long and my jaw clean. I’ve never been overly concerned with social convention.”

  “I see.” She lifted the vial Thora had given her and poured a small amount of amber oil into her cupped palm. Warming the oil with her body heat, she smoothed it over his broad shoulders.

  A soft gasp escaped her throat. She’d not expected his body to be so hot—or so hard. The muscles beneath her fingers felt as if they were sculpted from stone—warm, living stone. She squeezed and stroked, fascinated by the slick slide of her hands over his flesh.

  She kneaded his corded shoulders and worked the ointment into his thick upper arms. The side of his neck seemed especially tight, so she rubbed the area with her thumbs. She wanted to touch more of him. She wanted to touch all of him. Her fingers splayed across his shoulders and stretched downward, caressing his chest.

  Suddenly, he grasped her wrist and dragged her in front of him. Anger and something even more intense drove every trace of gentleness from his features. Rowena wanted to run, to scream, but she needed him to act upon the lust smoldering in his dark blue eyes.

  He grasped her upper arms and yanked her forward. The tub bit into her abdomen and tepid water splashed her skirt.

  “I am not soothed.”

  His voice sounded harsh and needful. Rowena fought through her terror and forced herself to meet his gaze. She let her lids droop slightly as Thora had showed her, and she remembered to lick her lips. “Then let me soothe you. Tell me how. I will do—”

  He shoved her backward so forcefully she landed hard on her bottom. Tears blinded her as failure loomed on the horizon.

  “Get out.”

  He spoke the words with such finality that Rowena wanted to crawl beneath the floorboards. She scrambled to her feet and flew from the room.

  Tears streamed down her face by the time she reached her bedchamber. She threw herself onto the bed and wept. All of her old insecurity crashed over her like storm-swollen waves.

  You are unfeeling and frigid, Rowena. No man will ever find solace in your bed! Gaston’s hateful voice echoed from the grave.

  He had not wanted her.

  Just like Gaston, Dominic had not wanted her.

  Chapter Two

  Damn the man! Fair Fiona glared down at the dark-haired knight from her hiding place in the corner of his room. Was he partial to other men? What was wrong with him?

  It had been no simple task to convince Rowena to come here. How dare he reject her out of hand!

  Vibrating with destructive energy, she prepared to dive.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Fearsome Dragon warned.

  “There was no reason for him to be so cruel. Rowena is passing fair. Why would he hesitate?”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t wish to be manipulated by a meddlesome Fairy.”

  She flew right through her guardian—knowing it annoyed him—to get a better look at the knight. “We must have more time. I know I can find a man worthy of our Rowena, but first we must thwart Edwin.”

  The dragon’s laughter rumbled, sounding very much like thunder. The knight looked around, confusion bright in his vivid blue eyes.

  “Be careful,” Fiona whispered. “He heard you.”

  “Has masquerading as a human taught you nothing about them? Rowena doesn’t belong to us. For the moment, at least, we belong to her.”

  “And we will ever belong to her, if she cannot break my curse.” Floating in a lazy circle around the human, she went on. “One step at a time, my friend. We must stop Edwin then we’ll plan the rest.”

  “Without the knight’s cooperation, how do you intend to protect Rowena from Edwin’s plot?”

  She flew through the thick stone wall. Pausing to make sure the corridor was empty, she transformed into Thora.

  Tossing her hair over her shoulders, she said to the unseen dragon, “I’ll think of something. I always do.”

  * * * * *

  Rowena didn’t see Sir Dominic again until midmorning the following day. The great hall bustled, everyone preparing for the main meal to be served. Rowena joined the assembly, hoping she didn’t look as anxious as she felt.

  Dominic’s rejection left her with no option but to attempt one final, dangerous bid for freedom. She intended to extend him every courtesy, play the role of charming hostess to the fullest, and then become violently ill. The ruse wouldn’t work for long, but she only needed one day, perhaps two, before she would be able to present herself to William Marshal.

  Farrell met her at the foot of the stairs, his expression reflecting his anxiety.
“What transpired last night? Was Sir Dominic reasonable?”

  A heated blush blossomed across her cheeks as the memory of Dominic’s nude torso materialized in vivid detail. If he’d been reasonable, she’d have spent the night in his arms and in his bed. “Reasonable can be hard to define.”

  The steward smiled then his eyes grew serious, intent. “You must be very careful in your dealings with this man. The stories surrounding him are many. I spent the last few hours listening to those who know him best recount unbelievable acts of violence and mayhem.”

  “He’s a knight, Farrell. Violence and mayhem are his vocation.” Fear fluttered in her stomach.

  “Nay. It’s more than that. They spoke of…” His voice faltered, and Farrell glanced away.

  “He is here. I cannot change that fact,” Rowena commented when he did not explain what he had overheard. “Gossip naturally accompanies anyone with notoriety. And you said yourself that Sir Dominic is well known.”

  “You’re right, of course. We’d be wise to focus on the situation at hand. Were you able to come to an understanding? Are you going to accompany him back to William Marshal?”

  “A very good question, steward,” Sir Dominic cut in. “I’m curious to hear the answer.”

  Rowena turned, thinking she was prepared for the sight of him. Her breath caught painfully in her throat and she forced her eyes not to widen. He was tall and commanding. His broad shoulders, thick upper arms and deep chest needed no padded gambeson or chain mail hauberk to appear powerful.

  And his face… Rowena had never seen features so fiercely handsome, so savagely appealing until she met this man. He’d pulled the unfashionable length of his raven black hair straight back from his forehead and bound it at the nape of his neck. Without the softening contrast of his loose hair, his cheekbones appeared even sharper. His dark blue eyes gleamed back at her with brutal intensity.

  Lying had never come easily to Rowena, so she chose her words carefully. She could feel his gaze move lazily over her features, even after she averted her face. “Is there no alternative? Can I not send your lord a message explaining the details of my predicament?”

  “And if he has questions after reading this message, am I to come scurrying back for your reply?” His tone was dry, mocking. “I think not. You need to accompany me.”

  “Then can you ensure the security of my castle in my absence?”

  “Are your castle guards so inept? Have you never ventured beyond the castle walls before? You seem to have very little faith in the competency of your own men.”

  “It’s not their competency I doubt,” she admitted. “It’s their loyalty. Some would prefer to swear fealty to Edwin.”

  “That is not true,” Farrell defended her passionately. “The men are loyal to Pendragon Castle, and you are the Lady of Pendragon.”

  “Among other things,” Rowena muttered. “Let’s join the assembly. Everyone is anxious for the meal to begin.” She motioned toward the head table with a graceful sweep of her hand. The lesser tables had already filled with people. Dominic’s men had stayed largely together, dominating the long table closest to the hall’s main entrance.

  “By all means,” Dominic agreed.

  They took their places upon the dais and Dominic casually picked up the small round loaf that sat beside each thick bread trencher. Breaking off a piece, he handed it to Rowena. “You should be commended on your keep. Seldom have I seen a hall so clean and well organized.”

  “My thanks.” She nibbled on a small bit of bread while the first course was served.

  Servants moved between the tables efficiently. Spit-roasted chickens and mutton were distributed in bowls throughout the hall. Then boiled cod with parsley sauce. Apple fritters and boiled greens were served to accompany the meat dishes.

  “How soon can you be ready to travel?” Dominic asked as Rowena began to fill the trencher set before them.

  She chuckled, setting aside the serving dish. “Are you always so tenacious?”

  “Always.” He didn’t smile, but a suspicious twinkle came into his eyes.

  “How long will I be gone? Where is Sir William?”

  “He’ll receive us at Windsor Castle, and the duration of your stay will likely be determined by your willingness to cooperate.”

  She didn’t miss the subtle reprimand in his softly spoken words. “Then I suppose I can make ready by the morrow. Will that satisfy you?”

  His gaze narrowed and his lips pressed together. “You need not concern yourself with my satisfaction. I was sent here for a specific purpose. You would do well to remember that fact.”

  He sounded annoyed, but his velvety blue eyes took on a soft, distant quality. Was he remembering what it felt like as her hands slid over his flesh?

  “I’ve not forgotten your reason for being here. But you must understand, I’ve been defending my position at Pendragon nearly from the day I laid my husband to rest.” The conflict at Pendragon Castle began long before that, but Sir Dominic didn’t need to know her entire history.

  “Against this Edwin? Or are there others with a mind to be Pendragon’s lord?”

  “What did Sir William tell you?”

  “Just that Edwin of Llangly has petitioned the crown to recommend the annulment of your marriage. William thought it odd, being that Gaston is dead, and a third party submitted the petition. He sent me to deliver his summons and escort you to Windsor Castle.”

  “How long have you served Sir William?” She smoothly changed the subject.

  “My father was William Marshal’s vassal, so I was sent to be fostered with his sons. A rival baron murdered my parents and burnt our keep to the ground, so I became his ward.” He spoke in an emotionless monotone.

  Rowena’s hand flew to her mouth. She’d only meant to distract him. How could she have guessed that he’d reveal something so horrible? “I’m so sorry, sir,” she whispered.

  “I’ve had many years to accept the loss.”

  “Was this person brought to justice?”

  “King John saw my father’s death as an opportunity to seize back the land he’d granted to my family. I was too young to fight the injustice. William approached King John on my behalf, but the king wasn’t interested in his opinions or objections.”

  Rowena couldn’t meet his gaze. Fiddling with her food, she said, “I remember stories of his outrageous liberties. King John was not a good king.”

  Dominic laughed. “Truer words may never have been spoken. The Barons Charter was designed to curtail his rash behavior, but he had the document invalidated nearly before the ink dried.”

  “So, are we better off with a boy king?” She hoped to lighten the conversation.

  “Sir William is a good and just man. King Henry couldn’t ask for a better regent.”

  “But King Henry is a child. For many years yet, he’ll be vulnerable to the influence of others.”

  He nodded. “That’s why the regent must be strong, his character above reproach.”

  “You admire him greatly,” Rowena said.

  “King Henry?”

  “William Marshal,” she clarified, then seeing laughter in his dark blue eyes, she smiled.

  As the servants began to clear the tables, Rowena remembered the role she needed to play. Easing back against the tall, wooden chair, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  “Is something amiss?” Dominic asked.

  “Just a bit of a headache. If you’ll excuse me…”

  Dominic rose smoothly and pulled back the heavy chair. Rowena hadn’t expected him to follow her, but there was no mistaking the heavy fall of his boots. How long must she indulge him before she could retire to her solar?

  She reached the ramparts before she acknowledged his presence. “Do you intend to follow me around until we depart?”

  He stepped up beside her and leaned one shoulder against the stone fortification. Rowena allowed her gaze to move leisurely over his handsome features. He was far too comfortable with hims
elf.

  He smiled. “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “Why? Do you fear I’ll climb down through the latrine and escape your evil grasp?”

  He chuckled. “Are you always so prickly?”

  The temptation to trust him twisted within her. Oh, to abandon her rash plan and enlist his aid. If he understood what she’d suffered, would he make love to her slowly, tenderly? Would he awaken her senses with patience and skill, or was he a brutish clod like— It didn’t matter! Sir Dominic had made his position clear.

  Turning her face away, she stared out over the bailey, to the village beyond the river. He hadn’t wanted her. He’d sent her away.

  “I’ve no reason to escape you, Sir Dominic. I don’t want to leave the castle, much less start a game of cat and mouse.”

  “How long were you married?”

  She glanced at him suspiciously. Why would he care about such things? It was common knowledge. “Five years.”

  “Really?” He sounded skeptical. “How old were you when you wed?”

  “Older than some but not nearly as old as I would like to have been.”

  “What sort of answer is that?”

  “The only sort you’ll get if you persist with these personal questions,” Rowena told him. “You were ordered to escort me to William Marshal, which gives you no right to pry into my personal affairs.”

  “Why are you so defensive? Was your marriage so very unhappy?”

  “My marriage does not concern you.” She spun and walked off along the battlement, the wind whipping at her veil. He made her feel vulnerable, exposed, and she didn’t like it.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he called.

  She kept right on walking.

  * * * * *

  Church bells pealed, announcing Sext. Rowena pulled the hood of her cloak up around her face and hurried toward a cottage nestled in the shadows of the mighty curtain wall. Brother Samuel would be in the church, singing the midday mass, which left Brother Leland alone.

  Constructed of waddle and daub, the cottage appeared similar to all the others in the crowded village of Pendragon, but Rowena knew a sanctuary lay hidden within. She shifted her basket to her elbow and rapped on the door, listening carefully for a response.