In truth, Draco had not stopped to consider the consequences of his scheme and now he berated himself for his stupidity. It was not that the young lady was undesirable. She was just the opposite. But he had no taste for marriage, and he would never curse any woman, especially one as beautiful as the famed Beauty of Castle Neige, with marriage to a beast such as himself. He was too old for her as well as battle-scarred, with a reputed past as horrendous as his face and body. A gently bred maiden like Bianca should marry a benevolent lord who would see to her comfort and happiness. She should marry a man intelligent enough to hire warriors like the Black Dragon to keep his lands and the people in his care safe.
“You need not look so devastated at the prospect of having to marry me,” she spat at him. Her words cut through his reflections and he watched as she talked herself into a grand rage. “The only ones who know I am here would never breathe a word of this,” Bianca shouted.
“Everyone will know if you do not lower your voice, my lady. You are shouting.” His deep voice held a wealth of amusement. It was apparent that she was used to getting her own way, because when she was thwarted, she acted like a child. Her people clearly doted on her every whim.
“Oh you brute! This is all your fault.” Bianca turned her back on Draco and wrung the water from her gown.
For a long moment, he watched her. She swallowed hard several times. It suddenly occurred to him that she was on the verge of tears. Draco took the opportunity to get out of the tub while her back was to him, preserving what little bit of dignity she had left. He silently cursed himself for letting his plotting go so far as to lure an innocent young maiden into his chambers, coming close to seducing her while she bathed him. He was surely becoming perverse in his old age.
“I did not mean to offend you by reacting as I did at the mention of marrying you, but I have no plan to wed, not ever.”
“Never?”
“Yea. That is right. I will never take a wife.” Draco managed to pull on his robe before Bianca turned around to look at him incredulously.
“Why is that? Would you not marry me if we fell in love?”
He snorted at the notion. “I do not believe in love, my lady.”
Instead of laughing at him, as Charles had, Bianca merely nodded, her face taking on a pensive expression. “I agree with you.”
“You agree with me? About what?”
“Love, of course.”
This time Draco did not try to hide his mirth, and he laughed right in her face. The sound was a rusty resonance, as if his laugh had not been set free in quite some time. “You cannot fool me on that account either, Lady Bianca. All young maidens, especially those actively seeking husbands, they all believe in love.”
“You are wrong, Lord Draco. I do not believe in love. And I am not the one seeking a husband. It is my stepmother who wants me wed and gone from here. I am perfectly happy living a single life. I have my duties and hobbies to keep me employed.”
Her solemnity sobered Draco and he stared at her in disbelief. Was she serious? He looked at her lovely face and somber eyes and it came to him that she was indeed earnest. He began to see her in a completely different light than that which he had thought possible. She was the beautiful Bianca de Neige, but it seemed that her beauty went much deeper than just her lovely, soft skin. For the first time in years, Draco considered how his life would have been different if he had met a woman like Bianca de Neige when he had been young and naïve enough to believe in love. But as soon as the foolish thought entered his head, he pushed it out. He took Bianca’s arm and led her dripping toward the door.
“What have I said to offend you?” she asked, running to keep up with his long-legged strides.
“Nothing, my lady.”
His brusque reply left no room for further questioning, so Bianca kept quiet while he opened the door and firmly placed her on the other side of the threshold. Turning around to ask him once again, what she had done to offend him, she found him staring at her with such intensity that she was sure he could read her every thought. Her gaze settled on his firm, full lips and she blushed, hoping he could not, or he would know that she wanted him to kiss her again.
“Do not play with fire, my lady, unless you want to get burned.”
Blast him! He could read her mind. “I don’t know what you mean, my Lord Draco.” She tried to hide behind obtuseness.
His answering smile told her he was not fooled.
“Will I see you at the evening meal?” Bianca cursed her fleet tongue, never stopping to consider her words before they were out in the open between them. She awaited his reply with a great deal of anxiety.
“I will need to eat.”
“Oh yes. You will. We would not want to starve you.”
“No. Never say that I was mistreated at the hands of the Neige family.”
Still not able to get her feet to move, Bianca quickly thought of something else to say in the stillness of the hall. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
“Well, yes, actually there is something I have been wondering about, since you ask. Perhaps you could help me.”
His kiss came swiftly and was fiercely possessive, giving Bianca no time to react before he ended it and the door shut firmly in her face, the sound of the bolt securing on the other side. Bianca touched her lips with her trembling fingertips as she stood there for a moment in a daze.
“Oh, my! He does indeed like me.” A smug smile flitted across her lips. “Well, my Lord Draco, you have met your match in this little dragon slayer.”
* * * * *
“Get the men together, Charles. We are leaving, immediately.”
Draco stomped down the corridor of the stables where he found his handsome cousin checking on their livestock. The heavy, putrid atmosphere suited his mood just fine. He wanted to be reminded of the earthy things in life. It was imperative that he get away from anything that reminded him of the Lady Bianca de Neige. Surrounded by the pungent smell of horse manure and fresh hay, the remembrance of the exotic fragrance she wore mixed with her own womanly scent quickly diluted with every step as he made his way to the stall housing his stallion. Breathing deeply of the stable bouquet, hay and horse shit, Draco strove to put the enticing Lady Bianca out of his mind once and for all by stating again, more firmly his intent.
“We are leaving immediately, Charles,” he repeated.
“What is this, Draco? We only just arrived and already you want to move on? I think not. We came here for a purpose and I will not be leaving until it is accomplished. I have not yet won the hand of my lady.”
“Your lady is not the Beauty de Neige.”
When Charles arched a golden brow in unspoken admonishment, Draco had to reiterate. “Well, she is, but she is not the Lady de Neige, daughter of the duke. The legendary beauty you journeyed the length of France to woo and win for your wife.”
“I am well aware of this, Draco. But it matters naught. Modesta de Neige is also a great beauty and I understand that she is an heiress in her own right. Do you think I have not done some investigation after our meeting with the Duchess Heloise this morn? Lady Modesta’s marriage lands are vast and her dowry, though not as magnificent as her cousin’s, is acceptable. I am losing nothing. If anything, I stand to gain the affection of a lovely young maiden whom I find extremely attractive and adorably naïve. I look forward to the task of educating her in all things once I have persuaded the duke that I am the best choice as her husband. It is fortunate that I was not given the opportunity to ask the Lady Bianca to wed me or I would be backtracking to get out of that predicament.”
His answer took Draco by surprise. He had not considered that his cousin, with his obsession to obtain wealth to refurbish the estates that had been awarded him, would be satisfied to marry a lesser heiress, but it seemed that he was infatuated with the Lady Modesta. True, she was a lovely maiden, but in Draco’s estimation she lacked spirit, a commodity he would require in a wife, if indeed, he were looking for one.
Stopping before the stall that housed his black stallion, Inferno, Draco picked up a bucket of oats and poured the grain into a feeding trough for his faithful destrier. He patted the horse’s soft muzzle in greeting as the steed snorted noisily before accepting his offering and settled down to eat.
“How did you know?” Charles asked, curiously as he watched his cousin.
“How did I know what?”
“Do not try to distract me with your act of ignorance. You knew that the maidservant was the legendary Beauty de Neige right from the first. How did you figure it out?”
“I did not; not at first. I knew she was not what she appeared to be, but it was the Duchess’s description of her stepdaughter that gave away the whole charade.”
“Yea, I was not pleased to be fooled in such a way, but as it turned out I am well pleased that the two young ladies did so. After you retired to your chambers to bathe, I asked a few pertinent questions about the two cousins and found that the bold Bianca is known for leading her shy cousin into peccadilloes. Speaking of which, how fared your bath?”
“Fine,” Draco replied a bit tersely as the muscles in his broad shoulders lifted to straighten his large body to its full height. A snort of disbelief from his companion had him clenching his jaw in a stubborn line. He was not about to admit his blunder in judgment even to his cousin. When he requested that the black-haired maidservant, who had the audacity to spill an entire pitcher of cider in his lap, be sent to his chambers to assist with his bath, he had known for a certainty that the duchess had no notion that she sent her stepdaughter. Even while his conscience pricked him for his devious scheming, he chose to ignore it. He wanted her. From the moment that he noticed her in the hall, he was attracted to her. But when he caught her and pulled her on to his lap and her soft, curvy body pressed against his, he knew what pure lust was and that part of his anatomy under her round little bottom sat up and saluted. He wanted, no, he needed that leverage over her. Her deception fascinated him and at the time, he wanted some private time with her, to study her, to teach her a lesson.
“Is it true then?”
“Is what true?” Draco turned when Charles sidled up next to him at the stall gate, and reached out to pat the magnificent black warhorse.
“Is it true what the bards sing about Bianca de Neige?”
“How would I know that, Charles?”
“It was she who helped you bathe, was it not?”
“Yea.” Draco’s voice was low and threatening. “I warn you now, Cousin, that information goes not further. I do not want it bandied about that the lady did anything unworthy to her station.” He turned and glowered at his cousin, waiting for his agreement. “I am serious, Charles. I want no scandal associated with her.”
“In that we are in total agreement, cousin. The maiden may be outrageous in some of her actions but you will be pleased to know she has many loyal subjects here who would do most anything to protect her. You worry needlessly.” Charles clapped his cousin on the back and grinned teasingly. “It is obvious by your defense of the lady that she has captured your attention, if not your heart, eh? Could it be that you find the renowned Beauty de Neige irresistible?”
If his sun-bronzed skin had not already been dark, the blush that stole over Draco’s high, chiseled cheeks would have given away his private feelings about the lovely Bianca. But fortunately, the dimness of the stables and his dark complexion saved his manly pride. He turned the emotions he refused to acknowledge back on his inquisitive cousin with a vengeance.
“If that were true, then why am I about to saddle my steed and ride out of here without a backward glance at the revered beauty?”
“Ha ha! You have fallen for her, after all.” Charles barked with laughter, ignoring the icy glare that Draco leveled at him. He laughed even harder when Draco stalked away and began gathering his saddle and other trappings.
“Wait, Draco. Do not go. At least not today. The day is nearly spent and you will not reach anywhere pertinent by nightfall. Stay the night and, if you still feel that you need to leave, then do so at dawn with a fresh day ahead of you. But I warn you, cousin,” Charles’ bright mood sobered, “I will not be accompanying you. I have found the woman I plan to marry and I do not intend to leave here without her.”
Deciding that he could survive one night in Castle Neige, Draco consented with a blunt nod, and returned his saddle to its place.
“First thing in the morning, Charles, my men and I will be on the road and headed home.”
“Perhaps you should inform your men of your intentions or they might not be around in the morning to meet that deadline.”
“Why is that?”
“They were discussing making a journey out to the gypsy camp that lies in the woods just past the northern fields of the estate. I am sure your men will be headed there for a bit of a diversion.”
“A little diversion sounds good. Perhaps I will join them on their escapade.”
* * * * *
“What think you?” Bianca asked her reflection in the mirror as she pivoted around and around, looking at herself from every possible angle. She had searched most of the afternoon through her wardrobe and had finally found the one gown that she was sure would attract Lord Draco’s eye. Since he had only thus far seen her in her worst gown she reasoned that she would have to work doubly hard to impress the man. “I think this might do just fine. I have always received great compliments when wearing this gown. The plum color is said to complement the color of my eyes. Or so one gallant fellow informed me.”
Turning away from her mirror, she grabbed her comb and stroked it through her hair before she sat down to braid a narrow plait at the side of her face which she drew back to hold the long mass of black silky tresses and keep it somewhat restrained. There were times when she wished she had the courage to cut her hair to waist length. But since it was so glorified by bards in their song, her stepmother would never allow it. Heloise told her that if she appeared with half her hair missing, half of her suitors would disappear. The outrageous belief made Bianca smile. Imagine it. Marrying a woman for her hair. It was too ridiculous.
“Am I asking too much to want a man to want me for more than just my outer beauty?”
Leia slipped into the room hiding a wide yawn behind her hand. “Here, here, my lady, let me finish dressing your hair. Please, sit. Now tell me what has you so sad.”
“I was considering the silly songs that bards conjure up. They are so asinine and nonsensical.”
“Oh, no, my lady. The ballads are beautiful. I have been brought to tears by their sweet words on more than one occasion,” Leia assured her as her swift fingers weaved their magic as she dressed Bianca’s beautiful tresses.
With a sigh, Bianca grew quiet as her thoughts strayed to Baron Draco and the sweet kiss they had shared. The man had captured her fancy if not her heart and she wasn’t sure what to do.
Finishing with her mistress’s hair, Leia moved to kneel beside her and took one of her soft, delicate hands. She squeezed gently as she spoke from her heart. “The bards praise your great beauty, my lady, which you have in abundance. But I think what truly draws the gentlemen, is the goodness of your heart. It is that which comes out in the songs and poems. If you would but listen carefully, it is not only your fair looks that are praised.” With a reassuring smile and an encouraging nod, Leia stood to leave, stifling a yawn as she did so.
Bianca felt as if her lagging spirits had been renewed.
It would be pleasant to think that perhaps some of the men who came to woo her saw more in her than just a fair countenance and fine form. She would keep this in mind as she sat at the table and endured another long evening of ballads and poems composed about her beauty. Fortunately, she had something else to keep her occupied. She had a mission to see to this night, and it would take all of her cleverness to carry out her plan to catch the man she had set her sights on.
“Oh.” Leia paused at the door. “I nearly forgot, my lady. Just an hour past, a new suitor arrived. I was told he is very handsome. An older Spanish gentleman with fire in his blood and ambitious enough to court the Beauty de Neige.” She giggled behind her hand. “My lady, you have so many handsome men seeking your favor. I think the number of swains, young and old, showing up at the gates of de Neige grows by the hour.” Still giggling, Leia slipped out the door.
Moving to her mirror Bianca once again pondered her reflection. Her hair, pulled back into a coif of skillfully twisted plaits, was entwined with thin gold ribbon. The resulting effect brought out the fine bone structure of her cheeks and left her long, fragile neck bare, except for the gold ribbon she wore with a heart-shaped amethyst pendant suspended from it. The deep plum color of her gown did indeed make her eyes appear to be a darker violet than usual.
“Do you think, Beauty, that I can make the great Black Dragon jealous?”
The young woman in the mirror smiled at her with supreme feline confidence.
* * * * *
A revered Beauty, her soul unclouded by pride,
The one thing her heart desired, was true love at her side.
A gentlewoman, she was not afraid of honest labor,
Getting soot upon her cheeks only added to her inner splendor.
She waited for her prince to sweep her off her feet,
She tarried at her tower window nightly, torn from her peaceful sleep.
With images of a knight-errant riding across the valley floor,
To take her soft white hand and pledge his love forever more.