“Way up. Yes, that one. The beautiful, delicious-looking one.”
Draco reached high to retrieve the fruit that Bianca pointed out and dropped two plump apples down into her waiting hands. He had agreed to climb into the upper boughs of the fruit tree just to please her whim. At her urging, he plucked fat, juicy apples and dropped them into her hands as she waited below on the ground.
They had spent several hours roaming about the orchard picking apples, talking, laughing and eating some of the fruit. They were so distracted that they had at first not noticed the sky covering over with dark clouds. It was not until a particularly dark-looking one opened up and let down a torrent of rain that they mounted Inferno and rode pell-mell for home.
By the time they reached the castle they were both drenched and Bianca had taken a slight chill. After housing Inferno in the stable, Draco escorted Bianca back to the great hall where he left her in the capable hands of her maid with instructions that she have a hot bath to chase the chill from her bones. Without argument, Bianca allowed Leia to lead her away but as she was about to turn the corner of the sweeping staircase she glanced back and found that he was still watching her. She raised one hand and gave him a wave before continuing out of his sight.
As she climbed the rest of the stairs the loud pounding of boots followed close behind her. She had just reached the upper corridor when Draco caught her. She was startled to find that he followed her. His expression was intense and the look he sent Leia sent the maid fleeing on ahead to prepare her lady’s bath.
When the little maid was out of sight, Draco took Bianca’s arm and escorted her a little farther down the hall and into one of the many small, darkened alcoves that had been built into the outer wall of the keep. When she hesitated about following him, he merely used his very large, very muscular body to crowd her into the small space.
The heat that emanated from his great bulk so close to hers felt wonderful against her chilled form. Bianca moved close seeking his warmth, boldly splaying her hands over the wide expanse of his chest. A groan rumbled deep within his chest and before she realized what he was about, Draco abruptly sat down on the stone bench and pulled her on to his lap without giving her a chance to protest. Even if she had voiced such a protest, it would have been cut off as he lowered his head and his mouth captured her parted lips in a passionate kiss. Fortunately, she was not of a mind to set up any kind of resistance when she knew with all her heart that this was right where she wanted to be.
She welcomed his kisses, returning them in kind as she wound her arms about his neck, thrusting her fingers into the silky hair at the nape of his neck to hold him captive. His lips moved over hers slanting, trying to find the perfect fit drawing a whimper of pleasure from her. When the wet tip of his tongue swept across the seal of her mouth, she opened for him relishing the taste of him.
Draco cupped her face and rained small kisses over her eyes and cheeks, returning to her mouth.
She relaxed farther into his embrace as he nipped at her lips with his teeth, teasing her, and then lapping the small sting with his tongue to comfort her. “You have no idea what you do to me, my beautiful Bianca.”
His mouth slanted over hers again and again searching for a perfect fit as he whispered words of encouragement. “Yes, this is the way a man kisses a woman, sweeting. The lips are one on the most sensitive areas of the human body. What a man and a woman do with their mouths can heighten the carnal pleasure between them.” Even in her arousal, the exotic meaning of his words made her blush. It was evident that Lord Draco had had his share of intimate encounters over the years. Jealousy nipped at her for a moment before she pushed it away. The number of lovers he had taken in the past should be of no concern to her. At the moment he was hers, held tightly in her arms, his lips on hers.
With a sigh, she relaxed in his arms and gave herself over to his loving. Encouraged, she tentatively rubbed her tongue against his, learning his taste and finding that she very much enjoyed this kind of kissing. It was so sensuous and arousing that she felt a sudden wetness between her legs and her breasts seemed to swell and peak, aching for his touch. Like a wanton, she writhed in his arms trying to find some relief for her condition.
It was Draco who put an end to their tender tryst when he raised his head, effectively ending the kiss. “I want you more than you know, sweet lady.” His voice was low and hoarse as if he was in pain. His admission made so low that she nearly missed it as he touched his forehead to hers, cupping her cheek gently. “But this is neither the time nor the place to show you just how much.” He gently eased her off his lap and on to her feet as he rose to face her.
“Draco?” Bianca sounded breathless and swayed dizzily on her feet. Her physical desires were riding her hard, her emotions in complete shambles. She took several deep breaths to steady herself as she realized what he had just admitted.
He wanted her!
But did that signify that he loved her? Mentally, Bianca shrugged. Obviously only time could give her the answer. Unfortunately, time was a fleeting commodity of which she had too little. Her father had given her until week’s end to get the great baron-knight to pledge his troth and the week was nearly over.
Draco edged her out into the corridor, his large hand at the small of her back. “Come, sweet, before your maid returns to find out what has become of you.”
Bianca placed her hand on his sleeve, hesitating to let him leave. She stole a quick glance at his face and discovered he watched her with a curious, arrogant expression on his face. It was obvious that he was well pleased with what had just transpired between them. Before she could object to his hasty dismissal, he gave her a quick peck on the lips and turned her in the direction her maid had disappeared and gave her a little push.
“Go enjoy your hot bath, Bianca. I will see you at dinner.”
But Bianca had not made it down to dinner.
The drenching she had taken in the sudden thunderstorm left her with more than just a mere chill; it had bloomed into a case of grippe. Still she refused to take to her bed and have her maid fuss over her. It would have been only a matter of time before her stepmother found out she was ill. And then the woman would have accused her of trying to shirk her duties to the multitude of suitors who continued to arrive at the castle.
That was the principle reason Bianca sluggishly made her way up the narrow staircase that led up to Galen’s sanctuary. A succession of dainty sneezes escaped her and echoed up around the spiraling granite walls as she slowly climbed the stairs. The jarring action caused shooting pain behind her eyes like a hammer striking a blacksmith’s anvil inside her head.
Stopping for a brief moment, Bianca placed one fever-flushed cheek against the cool stone wall trying to suppress a moan of pain. She was now paying the consequence of being caught in the cold rain, but she would have endured worse for the enjoyment of Draco’s company. Perhaps it was God’s way of reminding her that she walked a very fine line between morality and sinfulness. But she considered Draco worth the suffering.
Pushing herself away from the wall, Bianca trudged wearily on until she reached Galen’s door. There she knocked faintly, wincing once again as the pounding reverberated throughout her head.
“Come in.”
She found Galen sitting at his small desk, writing in his journals. It was his habit to keep a journal of every patient he treated, writing down the signs and symptoms of each ailment, and his prescribed cure. He was very particular about this and scoffed at by other healers who did not take the time to do so. His journals were a means to educate himself and others who came looking for answers.
“I feel like death, Galen.”
Bianca spoke low as she eased herself into a chair cradling her aching head in her hands. The healer turned his head to look at her and he was on his feet at once, coming to kneel beside her. He pushed the mass of black silky hair that had fallen forward over her face. He placed his cool palm on her forehead and then her heated cheeks. Tsking, he stood back and peered down at her through his narrow spectacles.
“You do have a decidedly morbid look about you. A bit pale with but a tinge of green about the gills, but hot to the touch.”
“Are you laughing at me?” She tried to muster up enough force in her voice to give her words some heat, but she merely sounded nasal and drained.
“No, my lady. What kind of doctor would I be if I mocked my patients?”
“Now you’re just being condescending.”
“What would you like me to be?”
“How about being a little more sympathetic?” She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
“If I give you too much sympathy, you would be more inclined to wallow in self-pity and that would not be at all good for your health.”
Her unladylike snort was his only response.
“Let me see what I have for your malady.” He riffled through his cupboard of herbs and potions, picking up first one bottle and then another until he found what he was looking for, and brought out a small pouch. “A little of this and you will feel more like yourself by this evening.” He opened the pouch and dropped a few pinches of the herbal concoction into a cup of wine, which he then handed to her. “Drink.”
“What is it?” she asked scrunching up her face in distaste as she took a whiff of the vile-smelling redolence. The odor hit her even through her stuffed-up nose. It was definitely a potent brew.
Galen had his back to her as he reorganized his cupboard. “It is best that you do not know. Just drink it down and you will begin feeling better in no time.”
“I hope this works.” Bianca grumbled as she pinched her nose between the thumb and forefinger of one hand and tipped up the cup and quickly downed the medication nearly choking on the repulsive remedy. She gagged and fought to gain control of her stomach. She thought for a moment that Galen’s shoulders shook. Was he laughing at her? Surely not. But at that point, she was not in any condition to care.
“I think I will return to my bed for the rest of the day. I need a little rest.”
“That would probably be best. Take a long nap and you will feel more like yourself by evening.”
“I truly hope so. I have matters to take care of that cannot wait any longer. Thank you, for your kindness, Galen.” Bianca smiled wanly at the old healer before making her way back down the tower stairs making for her room. She decided to take his advice and take a good long nap.
* * * * *
“Take that and that, villain.” The wooden sword thwacked against trees and slashed through shrubs as the aggressor pushed his imaginary foe farther and farther into the overgrown rose garden at the back of the curtain wall behind the keep.
The only witnesses to his heroic battle were a couple of chattering squirrels and several outraged blue jays that scolded him fiercely for invading their quiet sanctuary. Theron ignored them as he clambered on until he had thoroughly vanquished his foe, finally driving the villain to the ground where he lay wounded, begging for mercy.
It was while he stood debating on whether to grant the pretend scoundrel a pardon or not that he heard rustling in the bushes near the curtain wall behind him. His head came up as several startled birds above in the trees took to wing at the first sign of an intruder, shrieking a warning.
Thinking that one of the maids had been sent to find him and feeling guilty about sneaking away from his assigned chores to play make-believe in the back garden, he ducked behind a large lilac tree and flattened himself to the ground.
From there he watched as a strange man moved stealthily into the middle of the garden. He had an ominous appearance about him with his tall, broad-shouldered form covered in a long black cape, his face hidden beneath the cowl, which he had pulled up over his head to hide his identity.
When the man suddenly stopped and glanced around in his direction, Theron thought he had been discovered and he held his breath as he waited, expecting to be called forth from his hiding place. But when nothing happened, he raised his head and peeked up over the tall grass to find that the mysterious stranger made his way along the side of the keep to disappear through the kitchen door.
How odd. Perhaps it would be best if he followed the stranger just to keep an eye on him. By the looks of the fellow, he could very well be a spy! Or worse. A slow smile split Theron’s face. This could be his chance to repay the Dragon for his generosity. He would follow the man and determine what he was up to and then report his find to his master.
Theron glanced back in the direction the man had come and hurried through the overgrown garden to the wall to discover how he had gained entry to the garden since there was only high curtain wall surrounding it. That was when he found the small gate hidden behind a gardener’s shed, old, with rusty hinges, little used, and forgotten until now.
Sensing a good adventure, Theron ran across the garden and into the kitchen door. As he moved through the large room crowded with servants carrying about trays and tubs. He did not see the black cloaked man.
“Here what are you doing in the kitchen, you little scoundrel? Get out to the stables and do your master’s bidding.” Theron ducked just before the hand of the cook’s assistant would have cuffed him alongside the head. He could have told the woman that he had very little to do until his wounds were healed but he noticed the doorway that led up the back stairs and he dodged the blow and ran for it. He nearly laughed out loud at the crash of a pot hitting the floor and the cook’s loud voice scolding her assistant for being so clumsy.
Theron raced up the stairs, only slowing as he neared the second level of the keep to listen for footsteps ahead of him. On the stairs above, he could hear the light tread of booted feet taking the steps quickly. Theron moved up the steps as quiet as a cat, slowing occasionally to listen intently before he moved forward. When he made the fourth level of the keep he peered around the stair railing to see the hem of a black cloak disappear through a doorway down the corridor, the door clicking closed after it.
Hesitating for but a moment, Theron crept on silent feet, his hand sliding along the cold stone wall. He had been on this floor several times, but the memory of the last time still gave him chills. He had accompanied his friend, Paul, who worked in the kitchen when he had been sent to deliver firewood to that very same room. At the time, he had thought it a lark to have the run of the Great Keep but he was quickly disillusioned.
As he waited outside the door while Paul crept in and quickly dropped the wood near the fireplace and bolted for the door. He had grabbed Theron’s hand and pulled him down the stairs as fast as their feet would carry them. When they were safely hidden in the storeroom beneath the kitchen, a breathless Paul had explained why he had rushed them away from that particular room. There in the safety of the darkness beneath a heavy wooden table Paul had related a strange tale about the duchess being a witch. He said that she would occasionally use young boys in her strange rituals, cutting off their fingers and toes to make her witches’ brew. And if a boy was fortunate enough to escape her with those intact, he would be forever cursed by the evil eye she placed on him. As they squatted in the dark, shivering by the horrid thought, Theron was not sure whether to believe his friend. But Paul had assured him that he had it on the good authority of Marie, who was the chambermaid of that level of the keep. It had been later, when Theron had actually met Marie, he realized she was only trying to scare Paul with her tales to keep him in his place.
That was why Theron had not hesitated about making his way down the corridor now. He did not stop until he was right outside the door. With great caution, he stepped close and placed his ear to the keyhole and strained to hear what was being said on the other side of the door.
* * * * *
“Dear God in Heaven! What have you gone and done? You imbecile!” The harsh reprimand was tinged with shock at what Heloise had just witnessed. Even as the words left her mouth, her mind worked to discover a means to cover up the deed that her companion had performed with startling precision and brutality.
“What was I supposed to do, Heloise? I had no choice. Would you rather that the little whelp had prattled on us? You know that he would have run straight to that blasted Black Dragon and told him what he had learned. He is the bastard’s little page, after all. If that occurred, what would have happened to your plotting and scheming?” Standing negligently against the wall next to the door, wiping the blood from his dagger, he watched distractedly through heavy-lidded eyes as the duchess frantically worked to clean up the blood that now stained the floor of her private chambers.
“You could have chosen a less messy means to achieve the same end.”
“Perhaps you could recommend a good poison.”
His sarcastic barb hit home as the buxom noblewoman flushed red and then lost all color as she realized that her partner in crime knew more than she would have liked. Heloise, Duchess de Neige, could not afford to be connected to a murder at this point in her schemes. She shot him a look that said more than words how much she disliked his sarcasm.
“Do not use that tone of voice on me, boy. I have managed very well up to this point without…this.” She waved her hand at the dark stain on the floor.
“I would have thought that by now you would appreciate a quick end to a problem. Poison is such a slow way to rid oneself of an…obstacle. Do you not agree?” The sly evil smirk on his face bothered Heloise. She was not one to scare easily but his unspoken meaning left her uneasy. “We do not have the luxury of time to take care of the little sneak the way you have been taking care of the Duke. We needed to silence him quickly. The little bastard had his ear to the keyhole listening to every word of your scheme. You are fortunate that I opened the door before he got away. He would have gone straight to the Dragon and we would be in the dungeon,” he reminded her.
“Yea,” she agreed reluctantly. “But you must know that I hate it when you are right,” she grumbled as she went back to mopping up the pool of blood. The vision in her mind of the way he had grabbed the small boy and dragged him into the room only to stab him mercilessly haunted her as she went through the motions of cleaning up the evidence. Heloise was a vicious, manipulative schemer, but she had never had to watch anyone murdered in her presence. It was unnerving to say the least. She would have to avoid such disturbing scenes in the future.
* * * * *
“GALEN!”
The loud bellow had Bianca hesitating on the steep, twisting stairs as she descended from the healer’s rooms. Her own ailments were forgotten in that moment asthe outrage in the voice below her sent a cold wave of apprehension sluicing down her spine. She recognized the voice as belonging to Draco, but the trepidation that hung on that one word echoing up the stair had her dreading what was to come. He materialized on the steps just below her, in his arms the cause of his torment. He cradled the still body of young Theron against his chest.
“Oh, God! What happened?!” Bianca’s anguish mirrored Draco’s as she stepped aside to let him pass, the child held protectively in his arms. She followed them, her own miserable state of health forgotten. By the time she caught up with Draco, he was already taking orders from Galen.
“Lay the child on the table. Carefully now,” Galen commanded. He kept his voice even, attempting to still the anxiety of the large nobleman and distraught woman who followed him. The healer then proceeded to issue commands keeping them occupied with small tasks while he discerned the state of the boy who was covered in his own blood, barely breathing. Even as he worked, he questioned Lord Draco.
“Who did this?”
“It is not known. He was found behind the stables covered in a thin layer of refuse. One of the stable lads cleaning out the stalls happened across him.” Draco took a deep breath as he glanced at Bianca out of the corner of his eye. “He has been stabbed in the back several times.” His words were hard and grating. He would have liked to protect his lady from this horror but he was not in the frame of mind to be gentle. He could not hide his disgust for whoever had committed this inhumanity. He could not take his gaze from the deathly white face of his new page. The boy was an innocent and someone would pay for this. He vowed it!
“Who would do such a thing, Draco?” Bianca’s trembling voice cut through his thoughts of revenge. She had stood at his side from the moment he placed Theron on the table and now she placed her small hand on his thick forearm, her violet gaze pinning him, looking for solace and assurance.
“I do not know, but by God, when I find the villain who did this atrocious deed, he will wish that his father had never met his mother,” he grated through clenched teeth. Beneath her fingers, the thick muscles of his arm bulged as his hands fisted. The fury of the Black Dragon burned hot beneath his barely contained control.
For the first time since Bianca met Draco, she began to understand how he had attained his dangerous reputation. As she stood at his side watching the hatred in his icy black eyes, a shiver of fear raced down her spine. It was not for her that she was concerned. She knew without a doubt that he would never harm her, even though his dark eyes glowed with a feral blaze as he tried to contain the immense power of his anger.
“The boy still breathes, my lord.” Galen’s soft voice broke through the tension. “It is very shallow, but steady.” His hands moved over his small patient as he determined the extent of his injuries. Galen was diligent about his business. He worked to stanch the slow flow of blood from the wounds as he listened and prodded about the child’s chest.
“Will he live, Galen?” Draco asked in a near whisper.
“He will unless his wounds fester. Fortunately the knife did not hit anything vital.”
After what seemed like hours, Galen finally made his diagnosis.
“The worst cut is deep. The blade glanced off his young bones in several other places saving him from worse injury. No vital organs were damaged, but his cuts and bruises will take a long while to heal. As for his mind,” Galen shrugged his shoulders and a tear crept down his face as he gazed down at the small boy, “he will have to awake before we will know how this affected him.”
The old healer shook his head in disgust. “Whoever did this has a very black heart. He meant for this boy to die. If by chance the villain finds out that Theron survives, another attempt could be made. I would suggest putting guards at the door and informing the duke that there is a murderer within the grounds of the castle.” He then glanced up, spearing them with his pale blue eyes. “But then we already know that, do we not?”
With a nod and a look of dark determination in his eyes, Draco left the room. The man was on a mission, and nothing would stop him from achieving his objective.
With a heart filled with trepidation, Bianca followed him. They made it on to the small landing outside the room before he stopped and turned to confront her with his soft-spoken request. “Stay with the child, Bianca. Keep watch over him while I look into this business. Come for me the moment his condition changes…one way or the other.” He brushed the back of his knuckles down over the soft curve of her cheek, a deep yearning momentarily flickering through his dark eyes.
“I must go.”
“Draco,” her voice pleaded as it echoed through the darkened corridor. When he glanced back, she whispered her enjoinder, “Be careful, my lov…my lord.”
His curt nod was his only acknowledgment that he had heard her before he turned and disappeared down the stairs.
Returning to the Galen’s surgery was the most difficult thing Bianca had ever had to do. The sight of Theron, lying so still on the table, was almost her undoing. Who could do such a thing, especially to an innocent child? It brought tears to her eyes, but she resolutely wiped them away. She would stand strong for Draco and do what she could to see that this boy he had taken into his protection would survive and flourish in the new life he had been gifted with.
* * * * *
Bianca slept in a chair next to the pallet on which Theron lay. His small hand was tucked safely within her own, as if with that small measure of contact she could keep him in this world. Galen had worked long and hard, doing everything in his power to heal the child. He had finally left for a while to see to his other patients. He left Bianca and Fate to watch over Theron. He would survive his injuries if fever or some other complication did not take his fragile life. So they had set up a schedule and Bianca was to take the first shift.
That was where Heloise found her. The heart-wrenching depiction that she came upon when she entered the healer’s chambers did not even cause a twinge of regret or hint of guilt. The only emotion that flickered in those cold pale orbs was loathing.
In her twisted mind, even as she seethed with jealously and hatred for her beautiful stepdaughter, the Duchess de Neige reasoned that if she had ever had a child of her own, she would have wanted a daughter, one as beautiful as Bianca. With such a daughter, she would have been the envy of every matron at court for having produced such a beauty.
Her daughter would have drawn the attention of every nobleman in the kingdom even perhaps the king himself. Heloise smiled at the thought. Then as her delicious daydreams cleared from her mind, her eyes focused once again on the scene before her.
Resentment for her husband’s daughter flared hot as she gazed upon the silky blue-black hair, the soft rose-red lips and the lush body that curved in all the right places to make any man’s mouth water with desire. She would do everything in her power to remove this obstacle from her path.
After all, a woman of her age could not afford to lose the attention of her husband to another woman, even if that woman was her stepdaughter. Heloise had barely secured the Duke de Neige for her husband in the first place. It had taken much scheming and manipulation to achieve her goal of becoming a duchess. And now she meant to assure her station in this society, no matter what it took. And her first task was to rid herself of one useless stepdaughter by one means or another.
It was with this cold determination in her mind and ice in her veins that she strolled across the room and stood over the two innocents as they slept.
“Get up, Bianca. You should not be here. Leave the boy to Galen’s care.” She startled Bianca with her harsh voice. “Look at him. He is filthy. Come away at once I say. A noblewoman should not be touching such filth.”
Bleary-eyed, Bianca slowly raised her head. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rose as a chill of warning swept over her. She gently placed Theron’s hand at his side before rising from her chair, not for the reasons her stepmother had given. She needed to move this discussion outside the room, so that the child would not be disturbed in slumber. She moved past Heloise, walking to the door and down the stairs. In the corridor below, she stopped and turned to confront the woman.
“What is it, stepmother?” she asked as she turned, only to have the older woman grab her arm in her claw-like hand to hold her within her reach.
“There is no reason for you to be flippant. I will not tolerate your disrespect.” Her grip tightened to be very painful for Bianca but she refused to react to her stepmother’s viciousness. When Heloise understood that Bianca was not going to be threatened even with physical abuse, she released her hold and took a step back. “You have a suitor waiting in the great hall.”
Her announcement was not what Bianca wanted to hear at the moment. She was tired and ill and she just wanted to get back to Theron to sit with him until he showed some improvement.
“What time is it?” She glanced out the nearby window to determine the time of day or night. It was dark except for the bright moonlight that beamed through the opening, and a most inappropriate time for a suitor to be calling as far as she was concerned.
“It is just past supper time. The prince was most disappointed that you could not attend the meal, but I promised him that you would make an appearance later. I suggest you do not disappoint him or me. He is the ruler of the principality of Kiev and a very prestigious match for you.”
“I am in no mood to meet this prince or any other man right now. There is an injured child lying in that bed up there, perhaps dying. I am not about to go socializing when my help is needed here.”
The look that her stepmother gave her was so cold that Bianca shivered. The woman’s face was unreadable and then she merely nodded. “Fine. If you do not want to make a good first impression, then you only hurt your position with the prince. Perhaps you can afford to waste your time mooning after some bastard who will do no more than sniff about your skirts. He will never marry you, you know. He will never settle down.”
“It matters not, stepmother. I know that Draco has no intention of marrying me or any other woman.” But even as she said the words out loud, her heart cracked and bled just a little. Her time was running out and she had made a promise to her father.
“Then he will have you in his bed and leave you soiled and worthless when he leaves here,” Heloise challenged her. She did not seem to be too offended by the prospect of her stepdaughter’s ruin. “Bed him then. Ruin yourself for a match of good standing. But in the end, you will end up with a gypsy for a husband and no social standing to speak of. But at least you will return to a place where you are actually wanted.”
Heloise turned and walked away. She was gone as quickly as she had arrived leaving the sting of her assertion hanging in the air like an unpleasant smell that would not dissipate and from which Bianca could not flee. The words hurt more than she cared to admit. She had thought herself immune to Heloise’s poisonous barbs by now. But this time she had hit too close to home.
Bringing her feelings for Draco into the open with her lethal insinuations of his withdrawal from her after the great lord used her, was the most toxic venom Heloise could have chosen. Within seconds, doubt began to rise in Bianca and a part of her died a slow, painful death. Could Heloise be right in this matter? She shook her head in attempt to dislodge the doubt before it took hold. She would trust in her knowledge of this man that she loved more than life.
Bianca admonished herself for considering her stepmother’s hateful words, even for a moment. She glanced at the empty doorway and shivered once again. “At least she is gone now.” But it did not matter. Her upbringing would not let her disappoint her father by not welcoming visiting royalty. After all, she was the daughter of a duke. It was her duty to her father and to her heritage.
So Bianca knew that she would indeed make an appearance in the hall to meet the Eastern prince. From experience, she knew that if she did not, Heloise would find another way to hurt her for disregarding her demand by going directly to her father and upsetting him with her complaints.
But first, she had to be sure that no further danger would befall the child who lay so ill in Galen’s chambers. She would look in on Theron before making an appearance below stairs. Draco had placed guards at the healer’s door but she still needed the assurance that all was well while the boy recovered.
* * * * *
The Black Dragon of Normandy ordered a thorough search of the castle and its grounds for any suspicious characters who may have been lurking around in the bailey or the castle proper in that last few days. The duke had agreed to his help in the matter when he heard about the attack on one of Lord Draco’s pages. Every knight, workman, stable boy and servant who had been in the inner bailey just prior to the discovery of Theron’s brutalized body was asked to come forward and give an account of what they remembered while they were there. It was endless hours of questions and answers, only to acquire little or no useful information.
Lord Draco had sent men out to scour the countryside for strangers, halting all travelers and questioning them, but to no avail. Weary from the long hours of work with no useful results, Draco gave up for the evening when the light had faded from the evening sky and he could do no more until the morrow.
Having missed the evening meal and his belly rebelling at the abuse, Draco made his way to the kitchens looking for some sort of sustenance. The cook’s assistant was gracious enough to set him up with a tray loaded with cold fare and all the ale he wanted. He sat at a small table near the kitchen hearth and ate in silence.
As he sat there, he went over what he had learned, which was not much. In fact, nothing had come from his search for the attacker of his new page. In the beginning, he had thought that perhaps the chimney sweep had returned to take revenge for losing his small slave. But he threw that notion out and looked for other possibilities.
He found it hard to believe that such an incident could have happened in such a busy community as Castle Neige without someone taking notice. But so far, not a soul admitted to having seen anything. The only witness was the older stable boy who had found the child. And he had not been much help. What little information he had obtained from anyone who happened upon the scene after the outcry of murder was of little use. He hated to accept the fact that he had discovered nothing to help find the suspect. Not a soul in the castle had seen anything before the incident that he considered pertinent.
He did not consider that there might be a concealed agenda to the occurrence. Grown men, knights, soldiers of the king’s army had been known to spill every detail of their life and more when being questioned by the infamous Black Dragon of Normandy. After his fierce investigation today, he doubted that the lesser knights and soldiers, servants and peasants of the estate could have been able to keep their tongues from wagging.
“Ah, well, tomorrow.” With that resolute sigh, he took a deep swallow from his cup of ale. He would find the answers he sought before the sun set on the morrow, he vowed to himself. He sat the cup down and thanking the cook’s assistant for the fare, moved to the back stairs. He wanted to check on Theron’s condition and, perhaps, speak to his sweet Bianca. The memory of her mouth under his had his body responding eagerly to what lay ahead.