Kiss of the Dragon

by Christina James

  Heloise’s caustic remark hit home. Guilt swept through Bianca and she was momentarily speechless. She had never before thought that the small bouts of illness that her father suffered of late were due to her. Did he find her so troublesome that he needed to take to his bed just to overcome heartache? She had noticed that he had these episodes of ill health more frequently in the past few weeks.

  With her mind laden down with guilt and worry for her father, Bianca barely noticed the viscount, who had decided to behave himself during the rest of the meal. When the tables were cleared away and the dancing began for the rest of the evening’s entertainment, Bianca excused herself early with the excuse of feeling unwell and fled to her chambers where she found solace in her own company.

  As soon as her maid helped her out of her gown and into her nightgown she gave Leia the night off to spend as she wished. She did not want her hovering over her like a mother hen.

  She glanced at her writing table but found that she had lost her inspiration for writing for the time being. Instead, she sat down at her dressing table and spent long moments brushing out her long, black, silky mane of hair before plaiting it into a thick braid.

  Her pensive mood turned quickly to melancholy as her thoughts flew to what her stepmother had said about her father. He had seemed to age greatly in the last few months. This sad fact worried her. He had always been an active man, maybe not as lively as he had been as a young man, but for his age, he was in excellent condition, or so she thought. Tomorrow she would seek out Galen and ask him if there was something that could be done for her father. Maybe he had a potion that would help.

  When she finally climbed into her bed, Bianca feared sleep would elude her with her head filled with so many worries. But she was more tired than she had first thought. As her mind conjured up a vision of Draco’s ruggedly handsome face, she drifted off within a short time to dream of her great Black Dragon.

  * * * * *

  “Awaken, my beauty, your dream lover is here to make your body sing with passion until the first rays of dawn. Awaken from your slumbers, my beauty, let me show you what it is like to be a real woman.” The words of seduction, spoken softly against her ear, slowly broke through the thick haze of sleep that surrounded her. The hushed resonance of the whispering voice filled the darkened room, bringing her fully awake. It took a moment to comprehend that she was not dreaming. Confused about what was happening, she opened her eyes and nearly screamed at the dark, shadowy figure that hovered over the side of her bed.

  “I will caress every inch of your petal-soft skin. I will taste the nectar of your ripe full lips and lower.” Bianca could not believe that Draco had finally come to her and from his seductive whispered words he was ready to admit that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Here and now. Her heart jumped with joy and a smile formed on her lips. She had fallen asleep dreaming of this moment and now her dream was coming true.

  She raised her hand and with trembling fingertips she caressed his face, which was hidden in the shadows. After running her fingers across his smooth cheek, she paused.

  “My lord?” In her mind’s eye, she pictured Draco’s whisker-roughened cheeks and the scar that marked his cheek and moved her fingertips up and down, finding it smooth and unmarked. Even as her brain began to process the information, she snatched back her hand and shrank back into her pillows. What was going on here? As the last fog of sleep swept from her mind, she realized that Draco would never spout such flowery words to her. In truth, whoever stood next to her bed sounded like one of the wandering minstrels who came to the castle to fill her ears with their outrageous flattery.

  Then a horrible thought came to her that she was indeed dreaming and her dream had turned into a nightmare in which her dream lover had changed into a dark, shadowy demon. Yes, this was only one of her dark dreams. She closed her eyes tight for several moments and commanded herself to wake up. But when she opened her eyes, the shadow was still there.

  “Draco?”

  “No, my sleeping beauty. I have no wish to hear that bastard’s name upon your luscious lips. It is my own name that you must learn to say.” The whisper was muffled and she strained to understand his words. Uneasiness began to fray away the edges of her sleep-fogged mind and Bianca realized that she was indeed wide-awake.

  There was an intruder in her bedchamber! A man and he was not Draco as she first thought. Grasping the edge of her coverings, she eased them up to her chin and took a deep breath, readying herself to scream for Jabulani. But then reality flooded in and she remembered that her giant protector had vanished earlier in the day and she was without a guardian. Terror filled her mind and then comprehension that she was quite alone in her bedchamber with a strange man trying to crawl in bed with her.

  “Say my name, my beauty. Say, Christian.”

  “Merridew.”

  The low rumble like distant thunder came from the vicinity of the doorway of her chamber. There was no mistaking Lord Draco’s fury as he drawled out the name. Then a spark flared, giving light to the darkened room.

  When the Englishman saw the huge, scarred warrior, standing in the open doorway holding a candelabrum, he swallowed noisily and opened his mouth to try to explain his presence in the lady’s chambers. But at the implacable expression on the face of the infamous Black Dragon, he perceived that he had made a grave error in coming there. A hard knot of real fear twisted his gut and he was terrified that he would not make it out of this room alive. When he had been presented with the notion of compromising the notorious beauty, he had not been expecting to have to slay a dragon to reach his prize.

  “I have not touched her.” He defended himself as he eased off the bed. He slowly rose to his full height, trying to appear tall as he faced this giant. His usual haughtiness was the only weapon he had at his disposal so he used it shamelessly. “I was here at the lady’s request. We made this assignation earlier this evening. Now it seems that the lady has changed her mind,” he lied as he tried to bluff his way out of his present predicament.

  “Is that so?” Draco pushed away from the doorframe where his powerful body had been at rest in a pose that was deceptively unthreatening. “Did he touch you, Bianca?” His eyes never strayed from his prey as he stalked ever closer to the visibly sweating Englishman.

  “No, Draco,” Bianca replied, and then she hesitated as she tried to recall any familiarity on the viscount’s part. “I…I do not think so, but I do not recall. I awoke with him hovering over me, whispering in my ear.” Her voice trailed off as her mind turned introspective. She suddenly envisioned what the viscount could have done to her had she not awoken or if Draco had not come to her rescue, for the second time in one day.

  But the viscount was not finished with his effort to throw up a smoke screen to hide behind. “It has occurred to me that it is inappropriate for you to come to the lady’s chambers at this time of the night. What are you doing here? Perhaps the lady and I had no wish to be interrupted.”

  A loud bark of laughter that careened around the room like a clap of thunder followed his words, as Draco moved within inches of the viscount, his eyes snapping with fury. “If the lady did indeed invite you for a lover’s tryst, why is it that you entered her bedchambers through the window?” It was then that Draco noticed the scratches and scrapes on the man’s face. “It must have been an uncomfortable climb. Did you fall into the rose briars?”

  Guiltily, Christian’s gazed dropped to the bloody scratches on his forearm. In that moment of inattention, the dragon lord moved uncomfortably close and he found himself staring up into Lord Draco’s dark, sinister eyes.

  “You have no idea of how close you are to never seeing another day, Merridew. Only Bianca’s presence saves you from that end,” Draco ground out between his tightly clenched teeth. Without giving the viscount a moment to ponder his menacing words, he let fly his huge fist slamming it into the Englishman’s jaw. It was the last thing he saw before his world went black. Draco dragged his limp body to the
door and tossed it out into the corridor.

  “Take the viscount to his chambers, Jacque. And see that he stays there.” The young guard stood staring at the unconscious nobleman on the floor, and then up at Lord Draco, an appalled expression on his face.

  “Yes, my lord. I will guard the door myself.”

  A stiff nod was all he gave the guard before turning and walking back into the room. He was certain that after tonight’s events, Bianca would not have to worry about Christian Hamlin, Viscount of Merridew.

  Bianca climbed from her bed and began to look for her shawl when Draco stepped back into her chambers and turned to close the door on the offending nobleman.

  “I am sorry, Bianca.” His words were muffled as his face was toward the door, his head bowed slightly as his forehead rested upon the cool solid wood.

  “What do you have to be sorry for, my lord? If it had not been for you, God only knows what would have happened here.” She could not believe this brave knight would feel guilt over what the viscount had attempted to do.

  Bianca moved to stand behind him and tentatively placed her hand on his massive shoulder. She felt him quiver at her touch and it encouraged her to be bolder. With hands splayed wide, she moved them down over the hard, bulging muscle that formed his back, tracing the indentation of his spine down to the hollow above his firm buttocks. A groan of need escaped his throat as she hesitated in her exploration. He raised his head, swallowing hard.

  “If I had not discovered him climbing the vines to your window, you could have been…he would have….” He could not even speak the unthinkable things that he pictured in his mind and he yearned to drag the door open and skewer that bastard with his blade as he lay unconscious in the corridor. But Bianca’s soft hands moving over his body filled his mind with other imaginings. He fought the urge to turn around and sweep Bianca up into his arms to carry her to that bed and slake his burning desire with her soft white body until he was mindless. But would that not make him just as vile as the creature he had just beaten and tossed out into the corridor?

  “Would you not look at me, my lord?” she entreated.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I do, I could not stop myself from touching you, kissing you.” His raw honesty sent shivers of delight rippling through her body, and she gasped her surprise. The knowledge that he wanted her made her bold.

  “Touch me, Draco.” Softly spoken, her words tore at him and Draco nearly succumbed to her sweet temptation.

  “I must go, Bianca, before you find yourself well compromised, there, on your own bed. We would both regret it if that happened.”

  He gave her no time to argue the point. Before she could stop him, he had opened the door and slipped out. As he pulled the door closed behind him she asked, “What of the viscount, he might come back.”

  “Worry not, fair lady. I have men standing guard over him and I will be outside your door to see to your safety personally.”

  The door closed in her face with finality, and Bianca cursed her ill fortune. The man was not cooperating with her seduction. What was she going to do?

  Chapter Twelve

  For several moments, Bianca stared at the heavy wooden door that had just been closed in her face and then stamped her foot in a fit of anger. The damned man had rejected her again. This seduction was not going well at all. She knew how the tale should end. Had not she written story after story in which the knight in shining armor rescued the maiden in distress from the evil villain and then proceeded to carry her off on his great steed to live happily ever after in his castle in the distant sunset? What was it that she did wrong?

  Bianca glanced at her bed considering whether she should return to it, but immediately rejected the notion. Going back to sleep was impossible after what had just happened. And knowing that Draco stood on the other side of her chamber door was nearly beyond bearing.

  Restlessly, she wandered across the room to her writing table and lit several tapers. Since she knew sleep was impossible, she sat down, determined to work on her newest fable. But when she dipped her quill into the ink, her hand stilled and she stared unseeing at the clean parchment, her mind a perplexity of emotions. When she finally did begin writing, it took her several attempts to get the words she wrote to make some sense.

  For the hundredth time Bianca glanced at the closed door. She groaned aloud in frustration. What was wrong with her? Draco had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her and that should have put an end to it. But it had not. It was agonizing to be not more than ten paces from him and not to be able to see his face, to touch him. Perhaps she should tell him to go back to his own bed, so that his nearness would not torment her.

  Bianca was on her feet and crossing the room before she could reconsider her actions. Her fingers touched the handle before she realized what she was doing. Snatching back her hand as if she had been burned, Bianca chastised herself.

  “Do not be foolish!” Then a horrid thought entered her mind. What if he already thought it? “There is no need to give him further proof of his assumption,” she muttered as she stood, staring at the closed portal as if it were her worst enemy.

  No matter how much she tried to talk herself into climbing back into her lonely bed for what remained of the night, she could not get her feet to move. Instead, she put her splayed hands against the door and then leaned her forehead to the cold slab of wood that was all that separated her from Draco. She turned her head and lay her ear against the door in an attempt to hear any sound he might make. But there was only silence from beyond.

  An exasperated sigh whooshed past her lips as Bianca whirled about and hunched her back against the offending orifice. In total dejection, she slid down the rough woodwork to sit on the floor, thinking to use the door as a backrest. Too late, she realized her mistake. The thin night rail she wore provided little protection against the rough surface.

  Bianca slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sharp cry of pain that rose to her lips as a splinter of wood that felt to be the size of a lance embedded itself deep in the sensitive flesh of her shapely posterior. Only a low moan escaped her throat. But as she rose carefully to her feet, the long splinter, of which a great portion was still attached to the door, broke off causing even greater pain. Tears welled up in her eyes and Bianca swore viciously beneath her breath, berating herself for her stupidity.

  Venting her pain and frustration satisfactorily proved to be a difficult matter without making any sound. But Bianca managed it. She hopped about the room on her bare feet with tears streaming down her face, her mouth still covered as she held the injured nether cheek with her free hand. She glanced fearfully at the door, wondering if by chance Draco had heard her and might come into investigate the strange noises she made. She hastened to the door and eased the bar over the door to block him out if he happened to grow inquisitive. It would be just too, too embarrassing if Draco saw her in her present predicament.

  She carried one of the tapers she had lit earlier and sat it on the floor in front of her full-length mirror to give her enough light to ascertain the damage. Fearing what she would find, Bianca pulled the tail of her gown up slowly until she saw the black outline of the wood fragment. It was embedded much deeper than she had first thought.

  “What am I to do?” she quietly lamented to her reflection. She had the urge to weep and indeed a couple of sniffles broke the stillness of the room before she resolutely staved off more. She needed to be logical about her miserable situation. It was obvious that even if she could twist as she was now, looking at the splinter in the mirror, it would be impossible for her to remove the offending piece of wood herself. Bianca worried her bottom lip as she thought on the matter. It was evident that she would have to seek help.

  Hearing a loud commotion in the corridor just beyond the door, she dropped her gown and spun around. Holding her breath, she waited for Draco to knock at her door and demand to know what she was about. Heat suffused her cheeks at
just the thought of him finding out what she had done.

  After a few moments, the sounds of shuffling steps in the corridor faded and no knock sounded on her door. Bianca sighed with relief. But she still had to take care of the sting in her nether cheek. She needed help that was a certainty, but asking Lord Draco for assistance was definitely out of the question. Bianca wished that Leia had come up as she usually did to sleep in the dressing room, but she did not expect her maid to show up until morning.

  She could go to Galen, but Bianca feared that he would be too inquisitive and demand an explanation as to why she was up at that time of the night. No, the situation was much too delicate to take to a man, even if he was the resident healer. That left only one person. She would to seek out her cousin, Modesta. But that presented one very huge problem. Lord Draco. He was standing out there in the corridor guarding her door.

  No, she would have to devise another way to get to her cousin. Bianca paced back and forth her butt aching more by the moment. She frantically searched for a solution even as the tender tissues began to swell.

  Finally, with a sketchy plan firmly in mind, she grabbed the bedclothes from her bed and began knotting them together as she eyed the only way out left to her. It was a bold plan but she was left with few options. If the vile viscount could use her window to come in, then she could certainly use it to get out. But she would not be foolish and rely on the unreliable trellis on which an abundance of prickly roses grew.

  Tying one corner of a linen sheet to the bed frame, Bianca tossed the remaining portion of her makeshift ladder over the window edge. She leaned out to gauge the distance to the ground but in the dark, it was difficult to tell exactly how far the knotted sheets reached. Assured that it must be long enough, Bianca eased her leg over the window ledge and carefully lowered her body down into the darkness.