“Are you blind, Draco? That woman has got to be thrice his age and probably missing every tooth in her head.” Charles shuddered at the thought of bedding such an ancient. He was not so particular as to turn down a homely woman when he was in need, but even he had a limit as to how old a woman he would bed. “If that is what he likes, then the man is a bit abnormal or very desperate. In the last few days we have been at the Castle Neige, I had not noticed him acting too peculiar. And I do not consider him desperate.”
Wanting to ignore the uneasiness that nagged at the edge of his mind, Draco watched with interest as the old woman handed Jabulani a small brown packet. Then the large man bent his head and kissed her gently on the forehead. With a swiftness that belied his size, the large servant nimbly mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of the castle.
“It is probably nothing. Perhaps he has an ailment and has come to seek some treatment. Gypsies are renowned healers.”
“True, they are. But Neige has its own healer does it not? And he is not an hour ride away from the castle.”
“Turn off your brain, Charles. I am sure there is nothing nefarious to the visit. Quit reading more into an innocent visit than is there.” Holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, Charles settled with filling his mouth with bread and chewing it thoughtfully.
Taking a long draw on his wine cup, Draco stared off in the direction that the forever smiling giant had ridden, his own mind working furiously. Despite what he said to Charles, he did not believe Jabulani’s visit to be all that innocent. There was something happening here, something that made him suddenly anxious and he wanted to return immediately to Castle Neige.
“I did not know we had such distinguished visitors in our camp.” Turning around at the sound of the aged woman’s voice, Draco was shocked that the old gypsy he had been watching only moments before had approached them and he had not been aware of it. He found himself staring at a woman who was not only old but whose soul was as ancient as time. He was mesmerized by what he saw as he looked in her eyes. And when she spoke again, he had to blink to bring his thoughts back to the present.
“I am Veryalda. And I would surmise that you are Lord Charles, and you, my young giant, are Lord Draco.”
“Yea, Veryalda, you have the right of it.” Charles smiled indulgently at the old woman. But her sharp bluish-purple eyes sparkled with mischief as she moved around the log on which Draco sat, taking a seat next to him. As she settled her old bones down, they creaked and popped with the exertion.
“I fear this old body of mine may be past its prime, but I keep my mind young by meddling in other people’s affairs and intrigues. And you, Lord Dragon, interest me greatly. I shall enjoy watching you solve your life’s mysteries.”
Her forward demeanor amused him and Draco decided to use the old woman’s curiosity to gain information about what her relationship was to Jabulani. He would gently lead her in that direction. “Have we met before, grandmother?” Draco asked, feeling that there was something truly familiar about the old crone.
“No, my boy. I’m too old to sell my body, even to the likes of you. Though I can see why a woman would pant after yours. But you have no need of a whore, do you? You have another in mind for your loving.”
Charles’ hoot of laughter received a warning look from discomfited Draco. It had been a long time since anyone had taken him so unaware with her perceptive tidings. Leaving him to wonder if the old gypsy somehow knew he had been left smarting in the ashes of unrequited lust for a certain young maiden.
“We may not have met before, my boy. But I know of you and I know that you have a tendre for a certain young maiden.”
Her insight into his personal life was unsettling but did not disturb him overmuch. Draco had always been leery of anyone who claimed to be able to predict what the future held. He was a soldier, a realist, he believed in only what he could feel, taste or see with his own eyes. He wanted to believe that that was the way of things in general. Anybody in the surrounding countryside could have heard that he stayed at the Castle and that Bianca de Neige had taken a liking to him in her young, naïve way. The young lady had not bothered to hide it, that was certain.
Leaning closer, the old gypsy suddenly grasped his hand in hers and flipped it palm up. As her bony finger traced the lines of his battle-hardened hand, she stared deeply into his eyes and spoke so low, only he could make out her words.
“You must not run from your feelings, my boy, or you will never know happiness. The woman you are destined to love will not be easy to hold. Other powers are at work here and I see trouble in your future. You will have to fight for the one you love. It will be a battle that you cannot lose or all will be lost to you. Only the purest form of love can conquer all and then and only then will you find your life worth living.”
“What do you know of this woman whom I would spend the rest of my life with? I do not believe in love or in happily-ever-after tales. What do you know of my life for that matter?” He snarled the last as he pulled back his hand and thrust it behind his back like a small boy. Her words bothered him more than he cared to admit.
“You have a great task before you, mighty knight. You will best a fierce beast in order to claim what is rightfully yours. From the cinders of past betrayal, your wounded spirit will rise and in doing so you will defeat the danger that stalks your ladylove even as she sleeps unaware. Remember, my boy, people are not always what they seem. Do not be fooled by false tales. Even a man with a princely heart is no more complete if he cannot see with his heart even though he is a lowly knight. But the most important lesson is this, love pure and true can thaw a heart of ice but it takes faith to keep it that way.”
“Tell me her name.” Until that moment, Draco had not known how far he had fallen under the gypsy’s spell and he no longer cared. He wanted the gypsy to whisper Bianca’s name in his ear.
But all he received from the old woman was an enigmatic smile and a wink before she turned to Charles and captured his hand. In the same manner, she began to read his cousin’s fortune to him.
“Who are your handsome visitors, Veryalda?” Her black slanted brows gave the newcomer a sensual appearance and, with the blatant desire burning in her exotic black eyes, she could easily have her pick of any man. But her hot black gaze moved hungrily over Charles, taking in his fine clothing and magnificent physique before her interest centered on the Black Dragon of Normandy. As her gaze roamed over him, her small pink tongue flicked out to wet her luscious bottom lip and she moved closer. Her hunger was obvious.
“Never mind, Carmen. They have not come here to buy your favors.”
Turning a frigid glare upon the older woman, the voluptuous Carmen thrust out her hip and placed an inviting hand there to entice her male audience.
“I did not think they came all this way to watch me dance.” Her lips curved into a seductive smile as she continued to gaze at Draco from beneath her thick black lashes.
“I am the best dancer in the camp, my lord Dragon. You were at Castle Neige last night and I know that you watched me dance.” Her hands moved over his muscular shoulder and down his arm as she moved against his side. More than just her skirt brushed his thigh as one of her shapely hands dropped lower. “I will be at the castle again tonight. If you wish, I will….dance for you, in private.” Her invitation was obvious.
“Get to your chores, Carmen, or you won’t be going anywhere tonight.” Veryalda shooed the sensuously tempting beauty on her way.
As Carmen walked away, her hips swayed suggestively. She turned her head and gave Draco a look that said more than words that she expected to see him later and the small kiss she blew his way suggested that they would get to know each other very well. Very well, indeed.
“You had better watch your step with that one, my boy. She derives joy from the trouble she causes and for now, she has set her sight on you. Take heed, my lord; do not make the mistake of falling into her tender trap.”
Chapter Eight
Bianca knew the moment Lord Draco arrived because she had been watching for him. It gave her pleasure just to observe him as he moved loftily around the edge of the room. Her heart fluttered with joy as she realized that he purposely made his way toward her. But as she stood in anticipation, a young man stepped forward to intercept Draco with the intention of introducing him to the lovely young woman at his side.
Bianca recognized the young nobleman as one of the young lords who had arrived only that morning. So far, he had made no effort to seek her out, and from what she had learned about him through her maid, his real intention for being here at Neige was to find a husband for his shy younger sister.
“And at present, it appears he considers the infamous Black Dragon of Normandy a possible match for her.” This last was murmured beneath her breath so that anyone standing near would not hear her speculation.
Bianca’s eyes narrowed with sudden jealousy. She had never before paid much attention to the other unmarried maidens who came to take up temporary residence other than to pass a short time visiting with them as they sat in the solar gossiping about fashions and such as young women do. But now she found herself in the disquieting position of viewing every woman in the room as a potential threat to what she considered her property and her hackles rose as she prepared herself to do battle to hold him. The extent of her jealousy was a very new experience for Bianca. She had never had anything to be jealous about before now.
As soon as Draco arrived, his eyes sought Bianca out. She was surrounded by a multitude of likely suitors who all clamored for her attention. She handled them with the ease of a young queen holding court as she smiled and nodded. But when their eyes met over the distance of the room, he knew that she was only waiting for him to rescue her. Even if he had agreed to help her sort through the numerous candidates seeking her hand in marriage, he could not bring himself to merely hand her over to any one of them. His heart warred with his mind about where his duty lay.
Glancing around the maddening crowd to find the most unobstructed route to her side, he found his cousin holding court at the side of the room. But it was the lovely Lady Modesta who received all his attention. Draco smiled slightly as he watched his cousin maneuver the maiden away from the crowd. They moved into one of the small alcoves behind several large pots of shrubbery where Charles placed his large body between the shy Modesta and the rest of the room as he proceeded to woo her.
By the envious expression on the faces of several young women, as well as a couple of older ones, who looked with interest at his broad, velvet-covered back, Charles still had the knack for drawing females of any age. Draco smiled wryly and shook his head. He threaded his way through the crowded room trying to avoid being stopped by anyone who just wanted to chat. But it was not meant to be.
“Baron d’Ensoleille?”
Draco paused as a familiar young nobleman touched his sleeve. It was one of the young gallants who had been in his hunting party that morning. He raised a black satanic brow in a frown at the forwardness of the man. A gasp of terror from his young female companion drew Draco’s attention in that direction. The lovely young maiden had a death hold on the young nobleman’s sleeve as he tried to draw her forward but she held back staring up at Draco as if he were indeed the very devil.
“Hush, Miranda. Show a little backbone.” The whispered reprimand was loud enough for Draco to hear and he empathized with the girl for her terror. He knew that his face was a fright. Before he could move away, the young lord forestalled him.
“Excuse me, Baron Lord d’Ensoleille, for being so bold, but I wish to present my younger sister, Lady Miranda.” He pushed the trembling young maiden forward, only to have to clear his throat in warning to remind her of her manners. “His lordship, Baron d’Ensoleille.”
Timidly, Lady Miranda raised her hand and offered it for Draco’s attention. He accepted it gravely and lifted it to his lips, but before his mouth even touched her skin, she jerked her hand from his grasp and then went white with shock at her rudeness.
“Oh, my lord, please forgive me. I am so….” Before she could finish her sobbing apology, an older woman, who was apparently her attendant, stepped forward and drew her away before she could embarrass herself or her brother further.
“Forgive my sister, Baron d’Ensoleille. Miranda is very young and not accustomed to the ways of men.” He shrugged his shoulders in his puzzlement as how to explain his painfully shy sister. “She is easily frightened. Not that you alone frighten her, my lord. She panics readily. I fear that my duty in finding her a suitable husband will be near to impossible.”
“Think nothing of it, young…” Draco couldn’t remember the young man’s name, so he went on. “Perhaps you should talk to the Duke de Neige about such matters. He seems to know the way of it.” With that short rejoinder, Draco moved on, not wishing to engage him in further conversation. He was well aware of what the young nobleman had in mind. A possible match between his young sister and the Black Dragon. But Draco had no intention of accommodating him in that area.
Draco had mapped out his future years before and marriage was not to be found. Even now, he made an exception in appearing at this ball. He generally had little time or patience for the company of gentlefolk. He was used to his way of life, a warrior’s life, harsh and, at times, unforgiving. This crowd of overly dressed nobles and their fine ladies made him nervous and he did not care for the feeling. The only women he came in contact with were camp followers or whores. Having lovely young maidens pushed at him with the proposition of matrimony in mind was disquieting to say the least.
His earlier intention of making his way to Bianca’s side suddenly evaporated and he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room. In his mind, he still saw the horror reflected in young Lady Miranda’s eyes. Flashbacks of a similar look on young Lady Deidre’s face when he arrived to claim her as his bride flashed to mind. Even though he was much older now, a seasoned warrior who had faced down enemy after enemy, the recollection hit him hard. He truly believed that Deidre had been correct in naming him for what he was; a great, ugly, scarred beast.
Draco looked around him and found that several maidens were staring unabashed at his face, their faces showing dismayed fascination. When Draco nodded slightly to acknowledge them, they quickly looked away pretending they had not noticed him. But their whispered comments behind decorated fans were loud enough to hear and his horrible, scarred face was what they commented on. Several pairs of eyes glanced back at him and then away as if he were a monstrous display for their entertainment.
Draco moved then, forcing his way rudely through the remainder of the crowd, his face darkened in humiliation and anger. He continued through the crowd, barely responding to the polite acknowledgments that were murmured his way. He had one goal in mind at that moment and that was to get to a darkened corner of the room where he could drink ale until he could leave without insulting his host.
But he was distracted from his dark thoughts by the loud unruly noise near the entranceway. As the noise of the crowd subsided, an older, gaily dressed man with a violin at his shoulder stepped through the open doorway and began to play a lively jig as a group of young men and women beating tambourines followed him.
Guests cheered heartily and then moved back to the edge of the dance floor to make room for the much-anticipated entertainment to begin. The low plaint of a Rom violinist suddenly changed tunes and began softly filling the air with a slow, sensuous melody as several gypsy women moved forward and began to move sensuously around the dance floor. Their movements were purposely seductive, their arms rolling
and weaving in the air, their hands undulating in curiously hypnotic patterns as the men beat the tambourines against their hands. The bangles on the gypsy’s ankles jingled in rhythm with the slow foot movements and their hips swayed enticingly as they danced in and out among the guests, selecting the males to slowly circle, their bodies touching and retreating in an obviously sexual invitation.
The beat of the music quickened and arms and hips followed in rhythm and the women whirled in fast, intricate movements moving to the center of the room and out again. Each picked a man and now moved to him, smiling provocatively up at him as she ran her hand ran over his arms and shoulders while he laughed and playfully grabbed at her. The display of sexual charms soon had every male in the room moving to try to catch an elusive gypsy dancer as she whirled by.
But it was one particular man whom Bianca watched as a comely dancer took every opportunity to press her body against his as she whirled and swayed to the music. It was obvious she performed for him alone. Bianca watched the expression on Draco’s face, trying to determine if he enjoyed the attention. When he smiled down at the dark beauty, she felt her heart squeezed slowly, painfully. When the gypsy took Draco’s hand and invited him to join her in a slow, sensual dance, Bianca found that she could no longer stand there and watch. She moved to the side of the room and slowly made her way to the doorway, thinking to seek the solitude of her bed for the rest of the night.
Bianca considered that the whole of her day had been ruined. Her disappointment had begun early that morning when she had found out Lord Draco had ridden out before she could catch him.
When it finally came time to make an appearance in the great hall, she had been excited and anticipated how the evening would proceed. She had hoped to be seated next to Lord Draco at dinner. Bianca needed to see him, to talk with him. But he had not made an appearance. She made do with the company of several young lords who did their utmost to entertain her with stories of their great hunting feats earlier in the day.
Kiss of the Dragon Page 13