Kiss of the Dragon

by Christina James

  Turning away from her mirror, she grabbed her comb and stroked it through her hair before she sat down to braid a narrow plait at the side of her face which she drew back to hold the long mass of black silky tresses and keep it somewhat restrained. There were times when she wished she had the courage to cut her hair to waist length. But since it was so glorified by bards in their song, her stepmother would never allow it. Heloise told her that if she appeared with half her hair missing, half of her suitors would disappear. The outrageous belief made Bianca smile. Imagine it. Marrying a woman for her hair. It was too ridiculous.

  “Am I asking too much to want a man to want me for more than just my outer beauty?”

  Leia slipped into the room hiding a wide yawn behind her hand. “Here, here, my lady, let me finish dressing your hair. Please, sit. Now tell me what has you so sad.”

  “I was considering the silly songs that bards conjure up. They are so asinine and nonsensical.”

  “Oh, no, my lady. The ballads are beautiful. I have been brought to tears by their sweet words on more than one occasion,” Leia assured her as her swift fingers weaved their magic as she dressed Bianca’s beautiful tresses.

  With a sigh, Bianca grew quiet as her thoughts strayed to Baron Draco and the sweet kiss they had shared. The man had captured her fancy if not her heart and she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Finishing with her mistress’s hair, Leia moved to kneel beside her and took one of her soft, delicate hands. She squeezed gently as she spoke from her heart. “The bards praise your great beauty, my lady, which you have in abundance. But I think what truly draws the gentlemen, is the goodness of your heart. It is that which comes out in the songs and poems. If you would but listen carefully, it is not only your fair looks that are praised.” With a reassuring smile and an encouraging nod, Leia stood to leave, stifling a yawn as she did so.

  Bianca felt as if her lagging spirits had been renewed.

  It would be pleasant to think that perhaps some of the men who came to woo her saw more in her than just a fair countenance and fine form. She would keep this in mind as she sat at the table and endured another long evening of ballads and poems composed about her beauty. Fortunately, she had something else to keep her occupied. She had a mission to see to this night, and it would take all of her cleverness to carry out her plan to catch the man she had set her sights on.

  “Oh.” Leia paused at the door. “I nearly forgot, my lady. Just an hour past, a new suitor arrived. I was told he is very handsome. An older Spanish gentleman with fire in his blood and ambitious enough to court the Beauty de Neige.” She giggled behind her hand. “My lady, you have so many handsome men seeking your favor. I think the number of swains, young and old, showing up at the gates of de Neige grows by the hour.” Still giggling, Leia slipped out the door.

  Moving to her mirror Bianca once again pondered her reflection. Her hair, pulled back into a coif of skillfully twisted plaits, was entwined with thin gold ribbon. The resulting effect brought out the fine bone structure of her cheeks and left her long, fragile neck bare, except for the gold ribbon she wore with a heart-shaped amethyst pendant suspended from it. The deep plum color of her gown did indeed make her eyes appear to be a darker violet than usual.

  “Do you think, Beauty, that I can make the great Black Dragon jealous?”

  The young woman in the mirror smiled at her with supreme feline confidence.

  * * * * *

  A revered Beauty, her soul unclouded by pride,

  The one thing her heart desired, was true love at her side.

  A gentlewoman, she was not afraid of honest labor,

  Getting soot upon her cheeks only added to her inner splendor.

  She waited for her prince to sweep her off her feet,

  She tarried at her tower window nightly, torn from her peaceful sleep.

  With images of a knight-errant riding across the valley floor,

  To take her soft white hand and pledge his love forever more.

  Chapter Five

  “My Lady’s cheeks so delicately smooth,

  Lips as red as a blushing rose

  Caressed by love’s first kiss,

  Soft and sweet, oh heavenly bliss.

  In a voice so fine, the meadowlark weeps,

  As he listens to her sighs of passion, so sweet.

  In her ears, like silvered moons, he doth whisper

  His vows of love

  And she sighs in sweet surrender.”

  The melody plucked upon the lute was the only part of the tribute that did not irritate or embarrass the blushing maiden for whom it had been composed.

  With a tight smile fixed upon her full red lips, which would surely be praised more than once during the duration of the evening, Bianca tried not to roll her eyes as she listened to current entertainer embellishing her attributes with the added coloring of sexual innuendo. It was indeed a new experience for her and one that she deeply wished she did not have to endure. But sit there she did, through every last verse offered her. Many bards had praised her beauty, some more lavishly inventive than others, but until tonight she could not remember her attributes being so lustily praised, so poetically, so vigorously.

  The handsome troubadour tossed his mane of black, curling locks over his shoulder in a very sensuous manner and smiled boldly up at her in a superior mien. It was obvious that he waited for a word of praise as his fantastic phrases, which hung in the air like a well-timed fart. But she could not bring herself to utter a word, but sat, red-faced and stunned, trying to pretend that she was somewhere else. Her mortification held her captive as she found herself seated at the high table with Baron Draco d’Ensoleille, who glared fiercely at the unfortunate bard, his hand on the hilt of his dagger as if he would avenge her honor.

  All in all, the evening had so far turned out to be a total failure. Her hope to capture Lord Draco’s attention was coming to naught and she did not think she could have been more mortified if she had come to supper naked. That was how the bard had left her feeling with his descriptive verse praising her attributes. It was somewhere in the middle of the last verse that she had noticed the newly arrived Spanish duke giving her lewd glances.

  Surely, she had never alluded that she welcomed such attention, had she? She glanced at her father who sat down the table and noticed his frown as he stared from her to the bawdy bard and then he raised his hand and dismissed the man for other entertainment. Her sigh of relief was almost audible and she just caught herself before she raised her fan to cool her burning face.

  Lord Rodolfo Xavier Del Jara sat to her left, chortling through the risqué verses. The heated looks he gave her left her in little doubt as to his lascivious thoughts. But imagine her shock in the middle of supper to find his hand suddenly making its way up her thigh, squeezing it suggestively in front of the crowded hall!

  “I am enjoying this evening’s…entertainment…enormously.” The Spanish nobleman leaned close and whispered in her ear. Bianca froze in a mixture of horror and disgust. Before she realized what the Spaniard was about, he snatched her lax hand and pressed it over the obvious swelling of his member beneath his codpiece.

  “Merde!”

  Bianca spat out the unladylike curse under her breath as she snatched her hand back, outraged by his obscene boldness. She glared at him.

  “Pardon, my Lady Bianca. I meant no offense. I merely wished to show how much your beauty and sweetness affect me. As you can see, I have great desire for you.”

  Bianca was not sure how to respond to his apology for his outrageous behavior so she merely gave him a stiff nod and eased as far from him as she could. It was not until her thigh came in contact with Draco’s that she realized how close she came to sitting in his lap in her attempt to stay out of the way of unwelcome roaming hands. She glanced up to find Draco watching her closely. He raised a questioning brow. “Are you in need of assistance, my lady?”

  Bianca was too mortified to do more than shake her head in denial. It was obvious
that Draco had witnessed the shameful display between her and the bold Spaniard. She carefully eased back to the middle of her chair. But she kept up her guard for any further uninvited endeavors from her left.

  “There is no reason to run, little chick. My intentions are honorable, I promise you. It will only be a matter of time before we are wed and you are in in my bed, at my tender mercies,” Lord Rodolfo whispered loudly, not caring who heard his challenge. But Bianca was determined to ignore him completely. She had more important issues to deal with this evening.

  But as the meal progressed, she found her attention divided equally between picking at her food, fighting off the Spaniard’s unwanted attention and trying to catch Lord Draco’s eye. The latter proved to be a failure, so she decided to ignore her main objective and fight to keep what dignity she had left intact. It proved to be quite a task. To save herself further embarrassment she conceded to let Lord Rodolfo fondle only her hand as she tried to keep her mind on the conversation between them.

  At their initial introduction, Bianca had not really listened as Lord Rodolfo Xavier Del Jara rattled off the long list of his antecedents and other credentials. Suffice to say, the middle-aged noble was from one of the oldest families in Spain and made certain that everyone understood it from the beginning. He was a handsome man who knew only too well his own charm, and he was serious in his search for a suitable wife. He was also a widower who had never had children and doted on his two younger sisters. Bianca found this attribute appealing.

  “And you are an excellent choice for my duchess, mi amore. Even my family thinks so. My sisters are more than willing to share me with a suitable wife.” It was an ambiguous statement but Bianca chose to ignore the underlying implication.

  Just down the table from Lord Rodolfo sat his two sisters, Lady Pia and Lady Belia. They had accompanied the duke on his journey north to advise their brother on his choice. Two more sour-looking ladies Bianca had never met. They appeared as if they had each just sucked on a lemon; their lips were so puckered in disapproval. They had let it be known upon their arrival that they did not approve of their brother looking so far afield for a bride. They had complained about every possible thing imaginable since their arrival, from the attire of the guard in the hall to the wide, stone staircase, and later, Bianca was informed that they had not approved of the rooms furnished for them. Even if they had been given the best accommodations in the ladies’ tower, it was not good enough for the royalty from Spain.

  Duke Rodolfo however had not complained about anything. He was a pleasant enough man, but spoiled beyond belief. He had only to snap his fingers and his personal servants raced to do his bidding. Everyone in his entourage bowed to his every whim. And that was part of the problem Bianca had now. He refused to believe that she would reject his advances and laughed off her coolness as being a maiden’s modesty.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a nasally complaint from the end of the table. Belia was at the moment attempting to drown out the tenor, who had just started his tribute to “the beautiful Angel de Neige”, with a high-pitched nasally whine that threatened to snap the tightly strung strings of the lute.

  “Is there nothing decent to assuage one’s thirst in this entire provincial manor than this…this…?” She put the goblet beneath her long, hooked nose, gave a disdainful sniff and then made a horribly scornful face, “wine?”

  Paul, the young page who had the misfortune to serve the Spanish noblewoman, looked ready to spill the pitcher of fine Neige wine down her back. He was known for being unforgiving of any and all insults to the hospitality of the Duke de Neige. He was proud to be a member of the Neige household and took offense when a visitor uttered any derogatory remarks about it. If Belia was not careful with her disparaging complaints, she would likely find a little something extra in the bottom of her wine cup or possibly beneath the sheets on her bed. Young Paul was well known for avenging any and all insults personally. Never before had anyone criticized the local wine for which Castle Neige was renowned. It was clear that Bianca would have to move to put an end to the criticism before Paul took a step to see that it never happened again. Bianca leaned forward a bit so that she could see Belia who sat as straight as a poker in her chair with her tight blonde curls and lavish jewelry. The gowns that she and her younger sister wore were beyond outlandish in adornment. The heavy velvet bodices were high-necked, encrusted with a profusion of pearls and gems worth a small fortune. It was clear that the Del Jara family was very wealthy and they thought nothing of swaggering under the weight of it. Rings on every finger and ropes of pearls twined about their necks until they had to keep their heads high just to breathe properly. If this was an example of the way noble women dressed in Spain, Bianca did not envy them. From remarks Belia had made earlier, they had just come from the court of the Spanish king and this venture into the quaint French countryside was taking its toll on her.

  “Castle Neige is known for serving its guests only the best wines. If you are not happy with the vintage perhaps you would prefer something stronger, maybe ale or mead, or even cider.” Bianca knew that this last offering would be offensive to the Spanish noblewoman but she could not resist the backhanded insult after all the woman’s criticisms since she had arrived.

  “No! Dear God, no! I would never drink such a demeaning libation. I will just have to make do with this….offering.”

  “You are too kind,” Bianca murmured under her breath. “Paul, please refill the other cups. I am sure that everyone is parched after listening to the delightful ballads the good minstrels have entertained us with. Please, my lords, drink, drink. More entertainment will follow supper. My father demands the best.”

  Bianca had made it a point to always find something good in every person she came in contact with, but she was hard-pressed to find anything at all that recommended the two younger sisters of Duke Rodolfo Xavier Del Jara. Near the same age or perhaps a few years old than herself and Modesta, the two Spanish gorgons had done nothing but criticize everything and belittle what they seemed to consider lowly French aristocrats.

  She had witnessed an incident earlier in which Modesta came away rather on the bad end of one of their raucous remarks. Bianca opened her mouth to berate the two women for their churlish remark but was arrested when Lord Charles appeared at her side and defended her with chivalry worthy of a white knight in shining armor. He had smoothly turned the tables on the two Spanish sisters leaving them standing with their mouths hanging open while he took Modesta’s hand and led her to the opposite end of the table where they would not be further bothered by the pompous Spanish nobles.

  That heartwarming scene had thus far been the highlight of her evening and brought a lump to Bianca’s throat even now as she fought back the envy she felt for her cousin’s good fortune to have a man so attentive to her feelings.

  With the Spanish sisters jostling for attention down the table, and Draco all but ignoring her, Bianca was left to entertain the Spanish duke and she could not have felt any more depressed about matters. She gave her attention to Duke Rodolfo instead of Draco in an attempt to make the latter jealous. But she soon found out that it was an impossible task to get a rise from a person who apparently was not even aware of her existence.

  “This troubadour does you a great injustice, my princess.” Lord Rodolfo leaned intimately close and whispered in her ear. Because she had been preoccupied with the great hulking dragon next to her, Bianca was caught off guard. But the foulness of his breath brought her attention back to him forthwith and she nearly gagged. Holding her breath, she fought to keep from spewing what little she had eaten all over the table. It seemed the man was not in the habit of cleansing his teeth nor had he partaken of a sprig of mint in his entire life. Bianca made a grab for her wine cup and took a healthy swallow to wash the rising bile down. It took several deep breaths to steady her nerves before she considered herself safe from being physically ill. He would definitely not be in the running as a candidate for her future husband. I
t crossed her mind that when Lord Draco had kissed her earlier in the day, the experience had been oh, so lovely. In fact of the matter, she had rather liked being kissed by him.

  No, the Spaniard was out of the question as an acceptable husband.

  “Oh, perhaps you would liken my eyes to spring violets?” Bianca surreptitiously leaned away from the Duke and then took another drink of her wine to hide her antipathy toward him. Then to give herself a further barrier to his foul exhalation she took her napkin and pretended to wipe away some excess wine from her top lip.

  “No, your eyes are the color of the late sunset, right before the dark arrives.”

  “You mean twilight?”

  Thinking she heard a derisive snort from her other side, Bianca turned her head to find her nose pressed against Lord Draco’s massive shoulder. She pulled back and looked up suspiciously to see if he had been listening to the conversation between her and the Spanish duke. But she must have been mistaken because he seemed to be in deep conversation with the resident healer, Galen. Surely, she had not imagined the sound.

  “Thank you for the compliment, Your Grace.” However, her sarcasm was lost on the thickskulled Spaniard. Then an imp of mischief rose in her and she decided to put the gallant on the spot and at the same time catch Lord Draco in his eavesdropping. “Perhaps Your Grace would entertain us with a song to praise my attributes next. I do not think the company in this hall could ever get enough of hearing me described right down to my littlest toe.” Bianca’s request did not have the expected results, however.