The Dragon Lord (17 page)

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Authors: Connie Mason

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Medieval

BOOK: The Dragon Lord
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Rose heard the call before she saw the men riding into the inner bailey.

The lord returns! The lord returns!”

Grabbing a cloak, Rose flew out the front door to await Dragon’s return. Raj hurried after her. Rose squinted at the riders through a curtain of blowing snow and knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Raj must have read her thoughts, for he lurched forward. “He should not have ordered me to remain behind,” Raj said grimly.

Rose searched the face of each knight, seeking Dragon. A cry slipped past her lips when she saw him slumped over his horse’s withers. She raced out to meet him, but Raj arrived first.

Raj was already lifting Dragon from his horse when she reached his side. “What happened? How bad is he hurt?”

“An arrow, my lady,” Cedric explained as he dismounted beside her. “I do not think the wound is life threatening. We were attacked on our way back from the hunt. On our own land.”

“Carry him up to the solar,” Rose ordered crisply.

“I can walk on my own,” Dominic insisted. He gave a dismissive gesture with his hand.“I have been wounded before, and this is not a serious injury. Put me down, Raj.” Raj looked skeptical but obeyed. Dominic took two steps and collapsed. Fortunately, Raj was there to catch him.

Chapter Nine

Someone said that God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.

—Sir J. M. Barrie

“Who did this to you?” Rose asked as she applied a healing salve to Dominic’s wound.

Embarrassed that he had collapsed in front of his men, Dominic could not look Rose in the eye. Strong men did not succumb to weakness.

“We did not see them. They hid behind trees and attacked without warning and left as quickly as they appeared. Mayhap they were outlaws.”

Rose was quiet a long moment as she wound a bandage over Dominic’s shoulder. “Could it have been Uncle Murdoc?”

” Tis possible. Your uncle is a vindictive man. My death would be convenient for him.” Dominic winced when Rose pulled the bandage a bit too tight. “You did that quite well. Who taught you healing arts?”

“I learned what little I know from my mother. She knows a great deal about herbs and healing. If you develop a fever, I can brew a tea to cure it.”

“Once again you amaze me,” Dominic said. He could not imagine Veronica looking at his wound, much less treating it. The sight of blood made her ill. More than once he had caught her eyeing the scar on his hip with revulsion, or averting her face so she would not see it.

“The lady of the keep is expected to treat her vassals’ minor wounds and illnesses,” Rose explained. “Since I am Papa’s heir, Mama taught me the rudimentary skills of healing.”

When Dominic started drifting off to sleep, Rose prepared to leave. Suddenly he opened his eyes and grasped her arm. Thank you. After a short rest, I will join you in the hall for the evening meal.”

“You will do no such thing,” Rose said sternly. “You’ve lost a great deal of blood and should rest in bed a day or two before exerting yourself.”

Dominic glared at her. “Do not coddle me, Rose.”

Rose’s chin rose to a determined angle. “You will do as I say. If you try to leave your bed.Raj will stop you.”

“Raj is my man. He will do as I say.”

“Not in this instance. Really, Dominic, why are you being so stubborn?”

“Because I do not like to be told what to do.”

Rose sent him a blinding smile.“I find that I enjoy it excessively.” She turned away. “I will leave you to rest.”

“When will you return?” Dominic asked petulantly.

“I will return to check on your wound before I retire.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like you intend to sleep elsewhere.”

Rose shrugged. “I thought it best to find another bed while you are recovering.”

“Like hell!” Dominic thundered. “This is our bed, and you will sleep in it with me. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” Rose said sweetly—too sweetly, Dominic thought. She turned to leave. “I will send a tray of food up to you.”

Disgruntled, Dominic stared at her departing back. Being told to remain in bed rankled his pride. Being ordered around by Rose made him feel like a weakling. Dominic defiantly swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself to his feet. No puny wound was going to stop him from doing as he pleased, and he would be damned if he would let a woman tell him what he could and could not do.

So far so good, Dominic thought as he pulled on his hose and tunic. Though his head spun dizzily and his shoulder and arm throbbed, he tottered resolutely toward the door. He lifted the latch and shoved the door open. Now all he had to do was negotiate the stairs.

“Where are you going, master?”

Startled, Dominic looked up into Raj’s stem features. “Move aside, Raj. I intend to join my wife in the hall.”

“Forgive me, master, but the mistress says you are to remain in bed.”

Dominic could not believe his ears. This was the first time in his memory that Raj had disobeyed an order. “You forget who is master, Raj.”

“Nay, master, but in this instance I must bow to Lady Rose’s wisdom. Will you return to bed or must I carry you?”

Dominic knew when he had been outflanked, and this was one of those rare times he could not control the situation. Grumbling with malcontent, he shuffled back to bed. Within minutes he was sleeping. He knew naught until he woke the following morning and found Rose lying in bed beside him. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. At least she had not defied him in everything.

The fever Dominic developed during the night was of short duration. Rose used her knowledge of herbs to dose him, and from that point on his recovery progressed rapidly.

Within two days Dominic was out of bed and immersed in preparations for the upcoming festivities. Replies to his invitations had begun to arrive, and Dominic fully expected all ten marcher barons to accept. The keep would be crowded, but Rose had assured him that Dragonwyck could accommodate the guests and their entourages.

Dominic sent his hunters out again and was relieved when they encountered no further trouble with outlaws. Dominic wanted to ride with them, but both Raj and Rose had insisted that he would do himself irreparable harm if he tried to ride before he was fully re covered. Dominic allowed them to have their way, but he did not like it.

The days rushed by with uncommon haste. Excitement reigned throughout the keep. The hall sparkled, the rushes were fragrant with basil, and the scent of pine, holly and bay filled the air. Mistletoe and pine-cone decorations were hung, and a Yule log had already been cut and left outside the door. Cook and her helpers worked feverishly, preparing food and delicacies that made Dominic’s mouth water.

On December twenty-fourth, the feast of Adam and Eve, a tree was cut, brought into the keep and decorated with apples in remembrance of the first family and their sin. Two barons arrived that evening, John of Sheldon and Blayne of Draymore. Dominic knew of them but had not met them before. Both men were powerful marcher barons who opposed the king. Sheldon brought his wife, Mary, and two young sons, and Draymore brought his bride, Aleta. Large entourages accompanied both families.

Dominic was not surprised to learn that Rose was acquainted with the guests. He learned that nearly all the marcher barons had been guests of her father’s at one time or another, and that the last time she had seen them was when they had come to confer with her father about King John’s unreasonable laws.

Seven barons and their families arrived on Christmas Day. The last baron, Henry of Ashford, was expected momentarily. The chambers were filled to the rafters with guests, their knights, squires, servants and nursemaids, and the sound of children’s laughter drifted through the halls. A caravan of Gypsies on their way south for the winter months had heard about the festivities being held at Dragonwyck and stopped by. They offered to perform in exchange for the right to camp within Dragonwyck’s walls. Dominic accepted with alacrity and invited them to set up their camp in the inner bailey.

Rose could not decide what to wear on the first night of the festivities. Officially she was still in mourning, but she did not mention that to Dragon when he had suggested the celebration. She knew her father would rather she celebrated life instead of death.

After considerable thought, Rose chose a dark green under-gown of fine wool with long, close-fitting sleeves. Her long vermilion over-gown trailed on the ground, but she pulled up the excess folds and tucked them beneath the belt circling her hips. The V opening of the upstanding collar was trimmed in gold and green and was large enough to slip over her head. The over-sleeves ended at the elbow and hung down from a moderately wide opening.

Rose wore her long hair plaited into two loose braids, covered with a linen veil and held in place by a gold band studded with green stones. Dragon walked into the bedchamber just as she was adjusting her braids beneath the headpiece.

“I prefer your hair loose,” he said, giving her braid a playful tug.

Rose snatched it from his hand. “I prefer it braided. I am a married woman now and should adhere to propriety.”

“Propriety be damned. I know what I like, and I like your hair down.”

His dark eyes moved appreciatively over her body. “You look beautiful, Rose. You will be the envy of every woman present tonight.”

“I do not need your compliments, Dominic,” Rose said. She studied him through a lavish fringe of gold lashes. “You look quite handsome yourself, my lord.”

It was true, Rose thought. Dominic’s belted tunic of purple wool trimmed in silver ended at his knee and was elegant in its simplicity. His short velvet cloak was held together by a jeweled pin and was the same bold purple as his tunic. Rose’s gaze slid lower. Never had she seen a finer pair of legs on a man.

He sent her a cocky grin. “Am I magnificent enough to dazzle all the ladies?”

“If that is your intent, you should succeed admirably,” Rose mocked. “I am sure all the ladies will swoon over the Dragon Lord.”

“Will you swoon, Rose?”

Rose gave an indignant snort. “I have never swooned in my life.”

He stepped closer. Heat arced from his skin to hers. The look in his eyes was so intense, so compelling, Rose felt her toes curl inside her shoes.

“Have you not, love?If you recall, I have made you swoon from pleasure on more than one occasion. I know I have been neglecting you of late, what with the preparations for the festivities taking up my time, but I promise to do better in the future.” He toyed with the end of her braid. “Tonight, when we are alone, you will wear your hair down for me and I will make you swoon.”

“I have not felt neglected at all,” Rose retorted. “You have been recovering from a wound, and I have been busy.”

Rose wanted to flee someplace where Dragon’s compelling gaze could not find her, but his dark desire held her suspended, drawing her to him like a moth to flame.

He laughed and offered his arm. “Shall we greet our guests, my love? The sooner the evening is over, the sooner we can retire to our bedchamber and indulge ourselves.”

Rose placed her hand on his arm. “I fear it will be very late, my lord.”

“Anticipation is said to be an aphrodisiac.”

“Humph! As if you needed one.”

“Are you complaining, Rose?”

“This is not a proper conversation, Dominic,” Rose chided. “Our guests await us and we are late.”

They heard the laughter and hum of voices as they descended the staircase. When they entered the hall, applause greeted them. Dominic guided Rose to the dais and seated her with a flourish. Then he lifted his hand for silence, and though everyone had been welcomed personally upon arrival, Dominic gave a warm welcoming speech and told them about the hunting and hawking he had planned for the next twelve days.

Father Nyle gave the blessing, and then the feasting began. The tables had been set with white cloths, steel knives, silver spoons, dishes for salt, silver cups and
mazer
s—silver-trimmed wooden bowls. At each place was a trencher, a thick slice of day-old bread serving as a plate for roasted meats.

Bread and butter were carried in first and distributed among the tables, followed closely by ale and wine imported from English-ruled Bordeaux. The first course was a thick, savory soup. The solid parts were eaten with a spoon and the broth sipped from the bowl. Squires, trained in serving food, stood behind their lords and saw to their needs.

The blast of a horn announced the meat course as servants paraded into the room carrying trays of roasted venison that had been turned all day on a spit, followed in close order by platters of boiled beef, roasted boar and grouse.

Dominic placed tender slices of meat on the trencher he and Rose shared and cut them into manageable pieces. She picked them up and ate with her fingers. Eels and a variety of fish dishes were served next, accompanied by assorted root vegetables swimming in butter and cream sauce. During the meal, Gypsy musicians played softly in the background.

Before the final course of fruits, nuts, cheese and spiced wine, the last baron arrived with his entourage. Henry of Ashford was apologetic as he explained his lateness to Dominic.

“Forgive me, Dragon, for arriving in the middle of your meal. One of our wagons broke down, delaying our arrival. I thank God I did not bring the children along. I am Henry Ashford. We met in London several months ago.”

“No need for apology, Ashford,” Dominic said. “My wife and I are happy you arrived safely. I do indeed recall meeting you in London and hope your stay at Dragonwyck will be a pleasant one. Did you bring your wife, my lord?”

“Aye, and a houseguest. My wife had invited her cousin for the Christmas holidays before we received your invitation. I mentioned that I was bringing a houseguest in my response to your invitation, did I not?”

“So you did,” Dominic acknowledged. “Accommodating one more guest is no problem.”

Dominic looked beyond Ashford to the two ladies who had just entered the hall. The hush that followed in their wake should have alerted him, but it was not until Raj leaned over his shoulder and whispered a harsh warning in his ear that he recognized one of the ladies approaching the dais. Dragonwyck was the last place he had expected to see Lady Veronica.

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