Once Upon a Kiss Read Free

she reminded herself, trying desperately to
calm the ruthless beating within her breast.
    How long had it been since William had smiled so
sincerely? she chided herself. The truth was that he rarely smiled at all, and
now—now that he found cause to—well, she could not fail him now.
She observed him an instant longer and knew without question that it was the
right thing to do.
    Nay, she would not fail him.
    Resolutely she turned toward her future, advising
herself that she wanted this, too. After all, it had been far too
long—too many battles fought, too much death, and too much enmity. She,
too, needed it all to end at long last—for William’s sake, for the sake
of his soul, as well as her own. If her brother was willing to call a truce,
so, too, was she. Too long had this vendetta consumed him.
    Still she shuddered... for how could there ever be
peace in the very heart of the Dragon’s den? The thought plagued her as she
rode toward her betrothed.
    “Smile, Dominique,” William commanded through
clenched teeth. She turned abruptly to find him leaning toward her discreetly.
“Smile,” he bade her once more. “You look as though you ride to your death!”
    Perhaps ’twas because she felt so, but Dominique
made a better effort for William’s sake. “I... I was merely searching for my
lord, Graeham,” she lied, trying to sound eager. “Perchance do you spy him?”
    William gave her a sidewise glance. His blue eyes,
so like her own, scrutinized her an instant, and then his brows knit as he
indicated, with a discreet nod, to the very place Dominique had been staring so
long. “There,” he stated, lifting his chin slightly and glancing in the vicinity
in which the infamous Black Dragon stood so ominously. “Standing aside his
black-hearted brother.”
    Dominique’s eyes widened, but not at William’s
epithet, for he used it so oft, it seemed almost an affection. With a stifled gasp,
she turned her gaze toward the man standing directly at the Dragon’s side.
Sweet Mary, how could she have missed him?
    Standing beside the infamous Dragon, her newly
betrothed, Graeham d’Lucy, second Earl of Drakewich, was all but indiscernible.
In contrast to his brother’s darkness, he was colorless: Though his hair, as
fair as sun-bleached flax, was the shade so many coveted, it did not stand
apart. And his skin, though swarthier than most of his coloring, was merely
pale in comparison. Though comely, his features alongside those of his ruthless
brother called to mind those of a youth and not a man, for the Dragon’s in
contrast were harsh, with his black shoulder-length hair and towering height.
    At her side, William’s voice was soft, thoughtful,
as he remarked, “I thought you’d spied him already? You gaped long enough.”
    His remark seemed to convict her somehow, and her
cheeks heated fiercely. Averting her gaze, she plucked at her gold-threaded
gown with suddenly tremulous hands. To her immense relief, she was saved from
replying because Graeham d’Lucy started forward to greet them in that instant.
The Dragon, on the other hand, stood his ground. His expression, she noted, was
as grave as those of Drakewich’s tenants, who observed from safe perches. A terrible
sense of foreboding swept over her suddenly, but she inhaled deeply, bolstered
herself, and tore her gaze away from his brother to meet that of her betrothed.
    “A hearty welcome!” Graeham exclaimed as he
sauntered forward. Her mount shied a little at his approach, but she quickly
soothed it, returning Graeham’s greeting with a wan smile. His pale hair
tousled softly in the breeze as he smiled up at her. His brother, on the other
hand—well, she refused to look at him again, refused to even think of him.
Lifting her chin slightly, she continued to smile serenely down at Graeham,
despite the fact that she’d never in her life felt more ill at ease.
    “My lord,” she said, with a gracious tilt of her
head. Discreetly, she wiped her palms upon