“My Lady’s cheeks so delicately smooth,
Lips as red as a blushing rose
Caressed by love’s first kiss,
Soft and sweet, oh heavenly bliss.
In a voice so fine, the meadowlark weeps,
As he listens to her sighs of passion, so sweet.
In her ears, like silvered moons, he doth whisper
His vows of love
And she sighs in sweet surrender.”
The melody plucked upon the lute was the only part of the tribute that did not irritate or embarrass the blushing maiden for whom it had been composed.
With a tight smile fixed upon her full red lips, which would surely be praised more than once during the duration of the evening, Bianca tried not to roll her eyes as she listened to current entertainer embellishing her attributes with the added coloring of sexual innuendo. It was indeed a new experience for her and one that she deeply wished she did not have to endure. But sit there she did, through every last verse offered her. Many bards had praised her beauty, some more lavishly inventive than others, but until tonight she could not remember her attributes being so lustily praised, so poetically, so vigorously.
The handsome troubadour tossed his mane of black, curling locks over his shoulder in a very sensuous manner and smiled boldly up at her in a superior mien. It was obvious that he waited for a word of praise as his fantastic phrases, which hung in the air like a well-timed fart. But she could not bring herself to utter a word, but sat, red-faced and stunned, trying to pretend that she was somewhere else. Her mortification held her captive as she found herself seated at the high table with Baron Draco d’Ensoleille, who glared fiercely at the unfortunate bard, his hand on the hilt of his dagger as if he would avenge her honor.
All in all, the evening had so far turned out to be a total failure. Her hope to capture Lord Draco’s attention was coming to naught and she did not think she could have been more mortified if she had come to supper naked. That was how the bard had left her feeling with his descriptive verse praising her attributes. It was somewhere in the middle of the last verse that she had noticed the newly arrived Spanish duke giving her lewd glances.
Surely, she had never alluded that she welcomed such attention, had she? She glanced at her father who sat down the table and noticed his frown as he stared from her to the bawdy bard and then he raised his hand and dismissed the man for other entertainment. Her sigh of relief was almost audible and she just caught herself before she raised her fan to cool her burning face.
Lord Rodolfo Xavier Del Jara sat to her left, chortling through the risqué verses. The heated looks he gave her left her in little doubt as to his lascivious thoughts. But imagine her shock in the middle of supper to find his hand suddenly making its way up her thigh, squeezing it suggestively in front of the crowded hall!
“I am enjoying this evening’s…entertainment…enormously.” The Spanish nobleman leaned close and whispered in her ear. Bianca froze in a mixture of horror and disgust. Before she realized what the Spaniard was about, he snatched her lax hand and pressed it over the obvious swelling of his member beneath his codpiece.
“Merde!”
Bianca spat out the unladylike curse under her breath as she snatched her hand back, outraged by his obscene boldness. She glared at him.
“Pardon, my Lady Bianca. I meant no offense. I merely wished to show how much your beauty and sweetness affect me. As you can see, I have great desire for you.”
Bianca was not sure how to respond to his apology for his outrageous behavior so she merely gave him a stiff nod and eased as far from him as she could. It was not until her thigh came in contact with Draco’s that she realized how close she came to sitting in his lap in her attempt to stay out of the way of unwelcome roaming hands. She glanced up to find Draco watching her closely. He raised a questioning brow. “Are you in need of assistance, my lady?”
Bianca was too mortified to do more than shake her head in denial. It was obvious that Draco had witnessed the shameful display between her and the bold Spaniard. She carefully eased back to the middle of her chair. But she kept up her guard for any further uninvited endeavors from her left.
“There is no reason to run, little chick. My intentions are honorable, I promise you. It will only be a matter of time before we are wed and you are in in my bed, at my tender mercies,” Lord Rodolfo whispered loudly, not caring who heard his challenge. But Bianca was determined to ignore him completely. She had more important issues to deal with this evening.
But as the meal progressed, she found her attention divided equally between picking at her food, fighting off the Spaniard’s unwanted attention and trying to catch Lord Draco’s eye. The latter proved to be a failure, so she decided to ignore her main objective and fight to keep what dignity she had left intact. It proved to be quite a task. To save herself further embarrassment she conceded to let Lord Rodolfo fondle only her hand as she tried to keep her mind on the conversation between them.
At their initial introduction, Bianca had not really listened as Lord Rodolfo Xavier Del Jara rattled off the long list of his antecedents and other credentials. Suffice to say, the middle-aged noble was from one of the oldest families in Spain and made certain that everyone understood it from the beginning. He was a handsome man who knew only too well his own charm, and he was serious in his search for a suitable wife. He was also a widower who had never had children and doted on his two younger sisters. Bianca found this attribute appealing.
“And you are an excellent choice for my duchess, mi amore. Even my family thinks so. My sisters are more than willing to share me with a suitable wife.” It was an ambiguous statement but Bianca chose to ignore the underlying implication.
Just down the table from Lord Rodolfo sat his two sisters, Lady Pia and Lady Belia. They had accompanied the duke on his journey north to advise their brother on his choice. Two more sour-looking ladies Bianca had never met. They appeared as if they had each just sucked on a lemon; their lips were so puckered in disapproval. They had let it be known upon their arrival that they did not approve of their brother looking so far afield for a bride. They had complained about every possible thing imaginable since their arrival, from the attire of the guard in the hall to the wide, stone staircase, and later, Bianca was informed that they had not approved of the rooms furnished for them. Even if they had been given the best accommodations in the ladies’ tower, it was not good enough for the royalty from Spain.
Duke Rodolfo however had not complained about anything. He was a pleasant enough man, but spoiled beyond belief. He had only to snap his fingers and his personal servants raced to do his bidding. Everyone in his entourage bowed to his every whim. And that was part of the problem Bianca had now. He refused to believe that she would reject his advances and laughed off her coolness as being a maiden’s modesty.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a nasally complaint from the end of the table. Belia was at the moment attempting to drown out the tenor, who had just started his tribute to “the beautiful Angel de Neige”, with a high-pitched nasally whine that threatened to snap the tightly strung strings of the lute.
“Is there nothing decent to assuage one’s thirst in this entire provincial manor than this…this…?” She put the goblet beneath her long, hooked nose, gave a disdainful sniff and then made a horribly scornful face, “wine?”
Paul, the young page who had the misfortune to serve the Spanish noblewoman, looked ready to spill the pitcher of fine Neige wine down her back. He was known for being unforgiving of any and all insults to the hospitality of the Duke de Neige. He was proud to be a member of the Neige household and took offense when a visitor uttered any derogatory remarks about it. If Belia was not careful with her disparaging complaints, she would likely find a little something extra in the bottom of her wine cup or possibly beneath the sheets on her bed. Young Paul was well known for avenging any and all insults personally. Never before had anyone criticized the local wine for which Castle Neige was renowned. It was clear that Bianca would have to move to put an end to the criticism before Paul took a step to see that it never happened again. Bianca leaned forward a bit so that she could see Belia who sat as straight as a poker in her chair with her tight blonde curls and lavish jewelry. The gowns that she and her younger sister wore were beyond outlandish in adornment. The heavy velvet bodices were high-necked, encrusted with a profusion of pearls and gems worth a small fortune. It was clear that the Del Jara family was very wealthy and they thought nothing of swaggering under the weight of it. Rings on every finger and ropes of pearls twined about their necks until they had to keep their heads high just to breathe properly. If this was an example of the way noble women dressed in Spain, Bianca did not envy them. From remarks Belia had made earlier, they had just come from the court of the Spanish king and this venture into the quaint French countryside was taking its toll on her.
“Castle Neige is known for serving its guests only the best wines. If you are not happy with the vintage perhaps you would prefer something stronger, maybe ale or mead, or even cider.” Bianca knew that this last offering would be offensive to the Spanish noblewoman but she could not resist the backhanded insult after all the woman’s criticisms since she had arrived.
“No! Dear God, no! I would never drink such a demeaning libation. I will just have to make do with this….offering.”
“You are too kind,” Bianca murmured under her breath. “Paul, please refill the other cups. I am sure that everyone is parched after listening to the delightful ballads the good minstrels have entertained us with. Please, my lords, drink, drink. More entertainment will follow supper. My father demands the best.”
Bianca had made it a point to always find something good in every person she came in contact with, but she was hard-pressed to find anything at all that recommended the two younger sisters of Duke Rodolfo Xavier Del Jara. Near the same age or perhaps a few years old than herself and Modesta, the two Spanish gorgons had done nothing but criticize everything and belittle what they seemed to consider lowly French aristocrats.
She had witnessed an incident earlier in which Modesta came away rather on the bad end of one of their raucous remarks. Bianca opened her mouth to berate the two women for their churlish remark but was arrested when Lord Charles appeared at her side and defended her with chivalry worthy of a white knight in shining armor. He had smoothly turned the tables on the two Spanish sisters leaving them standing with their mouths hanging open while he took Modesta’s hand and led her to the opposite end of the table where they would not be further bothered by the pompous Spanish nobles.
That heartwarming scene had thus far been the highlight of her evening and brought a lump to Bianca’s throat even now as she fought back the envy she felt for her cousin’s good fortune to have a man so attentive to her feelings.
With the Spanish sisters jostling for attention down the table, and Draco all but ignoring her, Bianca was left to entertain the Spanish duke and she could not have felt any more depressed about matters. She gave her attention to Duke Rodolfo instead of Draco in an attempt to make the latter jealous. But she soon found out that it was an impossible task to get a rise from a person who apparently was not even aware of her existence.
“This troubadour does you a great injustice, my princess.” Lord Rodolfo leaned intimately close and whispered in her ear. Because she had been preoccupied with the great hulking dragon next to her, Bianca was caught off guard. But the foulness of his breath brought her attention back to him forthwith and she nearly gagged. Holding her breath, she fought to keep from spewing what little she had eaten all over the table. It seemed the man was not in the habit of cleansing his teeth nor had he partaken of a sprig of mint in his entire life. Bianca made a grab for her wine cup and took a healthy swallow to wash the rising bile down. It took several deep breaths to steady her nerves before she considered herself safe from being physically ill. He would definitely not be in the running as a candidate for her future husband. It crossed her mind that when Lord Draco had kissed her earlier in the day, the experience had been oh, so lovely. In fact of the matter, she had rather liked being kissed by him.
No, the Spaniard was out of the question as an acceptable husband.
“Oh, perhaps you would liken my eyes to spring violets?” Bianca surreptitiously leaned away from the Duke and then took another drink of her wine to hide her antipathy toward him. Then to give herself a further barrier to his foul exhalation she took her napkin and pretended to wipe away some excess wine from her top lip.
“No, your eyes are the color of the late sunset, right before the dark arrives.”
“You mean twilight?”
Thinking she heard a derisive snort from her other side, Bianca turned her head to find her nose pressed against Lord Draco’s massive shoulder. She pulled back and looked up suspiciously to see if he had been listening to the conversation between her and the Spanish duke. But she must have been mistaken because he seemed to be in deep conversation with the resident healer, Galen. Surely, she had not imagined the sound.
“Thank you for the compliment, Your Grace.” However, her sarcasm was lost on the thickskulled Spaniard. Then an imp of mischief rose in her and she decided to put the gallant on the spot and at the same time catch Lord Draco in his eavesdropping. “Perhaps Your Grace would entertain us with a song to praise my attributes next. I do not think the company in this hall could ever get enough of hearing me described right down to my littlest toe.” Bianca’s request did not have the expected results, however.
“If that is what you wish, my lady.” Duke Rodolfo made to stand, so far into his cups that he was willing to take on the challenge without a thought to his pride. Embarrassed that she had brought the nobleman to this pass, Bianca grabbed his hand to stop him from making a fool of himself. The duke took full advantage of the contact and held her hand in his as he whispered loudly, “Perhaps you would care to accompany me to someplace a little more private, sweet maiden. I would then be able to pay proper homage to your beauty in more secluded surroundings. I am sure that there are more lovely things about you that I could give adulation that these foolish bards have missed. I am sure, your lovely white breasts would easily fill my—”
A shocked, embarrassed Bianca broke in to end the outrageous prattle of the libidinous Spaniard gallant.
“It would be most improper for us to leave the hall, Your Grace.” Bianca yanked her hand out of the duke’s grasp and reached for her wine cup yet again, this time to regain her composure after being so thoroughly, tactlessly propositioned. Never had she come across a suitor so full of himself, caring little for convention. He actually expected that Bianca would agree to accompany him to the nearest darkened, secluded corner and allow him to lift her skirts for his pleasure. Though she was shocked at the turn of events this evening, Bianca feared that this would not be the last time she would have to fend off such lewd behavior. For this reason, she would double her efforts to gain Lord Draco’s attention.
The warm touch of Lord Draco’s fingers over hers as they both reached for the wine cup that sat between them was barely a whisper of a caress, a mistake, she was sure. But it thrilled her nevertheless. Just having this great warrior sitting beside her gave her the strength to stay for the entire meal.
Bianca found herself looking into the dark, warm eyes of Lord Draco for the first time since the meal began and with his gaze solely on her, everyone around her faded away and only the two of them existed for that moment in their own small world. But as quickly as that feeling of contentment spilled over her, warming her, soothing her, it vanished. In its stead came the unmistakable sounds of tinkling bells and the thrumming drum beat filled the hall followed by scantily clad women and brilliantly dressed men who flowed into the hall and began to dance. Gypsies had arrived and with them, a cold panic washed over Bianca, freezing her in place with fear.
Draco watched the change in the lovely young woman at his side and wondered at it. Fear seemed to swallow Bianca up and all color washed from her face, leaving large, haunted eyes staring through him. And then she shook herself out of her temporary daze and turned to look upon the entertainers who filled the hall. Her fear was so palpable that he knew it was no dream, but in the next moment, she looked calm and collected.
Thinking that perhaps he had been mistaken, that perhaps his instincts were wrong, he reached out and tipped her chin slightly so that she was forced to look him in the eye. There he saw the truth. Her deep violet eyes held dark panic and anxiety even as she sat deathly still and stared out at the performers who filled the hall with loud, boisterous music and laughter.
A dark scowl covered his face as Draco turned his attention to the weakling duke sitting beside Bianca. Something was wrong here and he wanted to know what the gallant had done to offend Bianca. He heard every word of their conversation as the meal had proceeded and as far as he could discern Bianca seemed to be holding her own against the overzealous, over-amorous Spaniard, but he perhaps he had missed something.
“Santa Maria! The Duke de Neige has an eye for good entertainment.” Duke Rodolfo’s hoarse exclamation could be heard down the table where his two sisters sat staring at the exposition of exotic dancers, jugglers and musicians that moved around the guests. Their shocked eyes flew to their brother and they blushed at his open appraisal of exposed flesh and sinful dancing.
Draco frowned fiercely at the Spanish duke for his contemptible behavior, trying to catch his eye, but the man was too enthralled staring at the gypsy dancers to heed him. Draco would get no explanation as to Bianca’s change of attitude from that quarter. Duke Rodolfo was suddenly much too preoccupied with his own immediate gratification to give another thought to coax an unwilling innocent into a darkened corner to ease his lust. Before him was a bevy of willing partners in eroticism.
“What is it that troubles you, Bianca?” Draco spoke in hushed tones so that nobody else at the table could overhear them. She blinked twice. She had been staring blindly at the entertainers in the middle of the hall, seeing none of it.
At his voice, Bianca turned her head to look at the large, darkly handsome man at her side. She was startled to find him so attuned to her feelings. Even so, she had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard his question. So Draco repeated himself.
“Forgive me for being so inattentive, my lord. I am not quite myself.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand and placed her fingers over his lips. Surprised at her own actions in a public place, she jerked her hand back and dropped her gaze, missing his slight smile and then frowned at her next words. “It is nothing, really, Lord Draco. I was but reminded of a dark dream that sometimes troubles me at night.”
“Ah, I thought all fair young maidens dreamed of a white knight in shining armor coming to rescue her from dark demons. It is not so with you?”
“I regret to say that I have no such dreams, my lord. Mine are dark and gruesome; nightmares in which there is no hero, only specters to be feared. In truth, it is not a prince that I seek, nor would I want such a man.” Fearing that she might scare him away if she told him what it was she truly needed to keep the horrors away, not wanting him to delve too deeply into her private fears, Bianca decided to turn the subject.
“Do you not find the gypsy dancers fascinating? My father invites them every year to perform for his guests. He has a certain fondness for this particular Rom band.”
“They are very colorful,” Draco replied noncommittally as he glanced around. In truth, he was not paying much attention to the entertainers. His focus had been solely on Bianca. He had run the gamut of emotions this evening, starting with a burning anger toward the Spanish noble who dared to even think he was good enough for the sweet, innocent Bianca. He was furious that she spoke to the little worm. Earlier he had suppressed his laughter at her obvious sarcasm to the Spanish duke and the indifference she showed to all his flattery and that of every bard singing her praises or the soulful eyed swain who had come to court her. When he realized that she held herself above it all he had settled back to be amused. And finally, he felt relieved that Lady Bianca de Neige was not one bit interested in His Grace, Rodolfo, Duke Del Jara of Spain. It was then that he realized she had, in fact, been endeavoring to make him jealous throughout the whole evening and, woefully for him, had given up.
If Draco were totally honest, he would admit that after watching every man in the hall following Bianca with his lustful gaze, he was nearly crazed with jealousy. He knew deep down that he had no right to such feelings, but his heart refused to listen to his logical mind on this matter.
“I think you have lost your Spaniard to that gypsy girl.”
Turning at his words, Bianca blushed at the sight before her. Duke Rodolfo embraced one of the more scantily clad gypsy women and he had his hands on her full, lush breasts, squeezing them in fascination. And then to her horror he lowered his head and began to kiss her bared flesh. The sultry beauty squealed when his face disappeared into the cleavage between her full white breasts. Before her shocked eyes, the Spanish nobleman moved his hands to her thighs and he attempted to raise her skirts. A slap on his wrist stopped him momentarily as he glanced around, remembering where they were.
“Come, my little gypsy, I want you all to myself.” He latched on to her slender wrist and dragged the protesting wench into the shadows at the back of the hall and disappeared up the back stairs toward his rooms.
“What a pity.” Bianca’s sigh of resignation was loud and feigned. “And he was at the front of the pack of contenders for my hand. I really had high hopes for that one. Ah well, que sera, sera.” Her refreshingly bold laughter startled Draco. He looked at the lady and was surprised that she was not insulted by the behavior of the Spaniard or his obvious lust. His lips twitched in mirth and then he let out a bellow of laughter.
“Have you been besieged by many such crass suitors?” Draco finally calmed his robust laughter long enough to ask. His dark eyes took on a suddenly intense look that wiped the smile from her lips.
“He is an example of the usual type of scoundrel who has shown up these last few weeks seeking my hand. You see now why I am not all that responsive to my stepmother’s active pursuit to find a suitable match for a husband.”
“Yea, I can see that you have a problem.” He became quiet as he watched the gypsies whirl about the hall entertaining the crowd. After a few moments, he turned and looked down at her. “What you need is a matchmaker, my lady.”
“A matchmaker?”
“Yea. You need somebody who has the ability to muck out the undesirables and recognize only the true contenders for your hand.” He signaled the page to bring forward his offering and partook of the dessert being served, giving Bianca a berry pastry before choosing one for himself.
They munched their treat in companionable silence while Bianca’s mind worked furiously for a solution to her dilemma. But it was the baron’s suggestion that sparked a brilliant inspiration in her head. It was a truly exceptional notion and she had him to thank for giving it to her.
“I have taken your fine suggestion under consideration and I have decided that you are right, Lord Draco.”
Pleased with her compliment, Draco was congratulating himself for his intelligence when her next words nearly knocked him over.
“I think you would be the perfect one for such a task, my lord. By your own words, you could protect me by mucking out the rabble. You would be helping me to choose a fine husband from the cream of the crop. Yea, it is a grand notion.”
“No, Bianca. I cannot be your matchmaker!”
“Oh, but you must. It is your scheme after all and I know that it will work. Trust me, Lord Draco.”
“But I have no concept of what kind of husband you are looking for. I would do you no good in the capacity as your matchmaker.”
“But you would be perfect at it. All you need do is whisper in my ear your thoughts on any suitor who comes seeking my hand. You would be protecting me from any inappropriate advances as well.”
“Men have attempted to assault you before? Did you tell your father this?” Draco’s ire rose at the thought of any other man touching her. The knowledge of his own actions did not seem to bother him. He would run his sword through any gallant who dared come within two arm-lengths of Bianca.
But then he remembered his resolution to leave with the new dawn and told himself that it was none of his concern that she would eventually wed. He would be gone and Bianca would go on with the task of finding a husband. But the image of a sordid horse’s ass like Duke Rodolfo, who had the audacity to openly proposition Bianca at the dining table kept Draco from refusing her request.
“So far, I have managed to fend them off on my own, but with you by my side, they would not even attempt anything untoward with my person, I would wager it.”
“I could assure you, Bianca, they would not even get close enough to try.”
“Good! Then it is settled. I will bid you a good evening, and I expect to see you in the morning. Until then, Lord Draco, sleep well.”
She was gone before Draco could stop her. A wry smile twisted his mouth, making his scar stand out more prominently. He found that he did not dread the prospect of spending time with Bianca. He supposed he would have to postpone his departure for a few days at least. At the rate her suitors were arriving daily and taking into consideration the famed beauty of the lady in question, he figured he could find her a suitable husband by week’s end.
“I wonder if I will be able to give her up to another man,” he murmured under his breath as he accepted another cup of wine.
Modesta rose to her feet to follow her cousin from the hall, but Bianca motioned her to sit and finish her meal. She seemed to be having a splendid time in Lord Charles’ company and it warmed Bianca’s heart to know that her cousin may have finally found a caring, thoughtful man who seemed genuinely interested in her. If all went as planned, Bianca would also have a splendid husband in the person of Lord Draco d’Ensoleille.
“Bianca, dearest, I noticed that you have been enjoying the company of His Grace. Is it too early to tell your father you have chosen a future husband?”
Duchess Heloise must have been lurking in the shadows near the staircase. She caught Bianca completely off guard as she made her way from the hall. She thought furiously for a polite way of telling her stepmother that the duke was an appalling disappointment and she would not care if she ever saw the man again.
“I am afraid, Duchess, that the Spanish duke and I have nothing in common. I would never satisfy such a great man.” The last was said with open sarcasm but Bianca did not care if her stepmother noticed.
“Oh come. Surely, you have not given him the opportunity to prove himself. He only just arrived this afternoon. Why some of the best catches out there are just diamonds in the rough. You cannot judge a man solely on first impressions.”
Bianca could not help but agree with her opinion of diamonds, but she was not thinking of the Spaniard. She had a darker, more perplexing individual in mind and she was unaware until it was too late that she had agreed to let Duke Rodolfo stay for a few more days.
“You have made an excellent decision, Bianca. His Grace will make an excellent husband for you. He is very rich and looking to marry a young wife to give him sons.”
“Do not misunderstand me, stepmother. I have made no choice as of yet. Maybe in a few days I will be able to give my father an answer, but not just yet. I need time.”
Trying to ease by the stalwart matron was not an easy task and Bianca was forced to stay and endure more of the older woman’s commentary.
“Are you going to retire so early, my dear?”
“Yea, stepmother. I am weary and I thought to have an early night.”
“But I thought with the entertainment your father thoughtfully provided, you would be comfortable in your milieu.” The sly smirk on Duchess Heloise’s painted face showed Bianca that her stepmother meant to hurt her by the remark.
A strained smile touched her lips as Bianca replied, “Why would I be enthralled by a mere band of Rom? Perhaps you should debate the matter with my father. I am certain that he will disagree with my opinion. He seems to be enjoying himself if you had not noticed.”
The loud gasp of outrage that whooshed from the older woman echoed off the stone walls of the long corridor. It was evident that Heloise had not expected to have her own venomous remarks turned back on her with such civility. Her husband’s association with the band of gypsies was a very sensitive area in her relationship with him and she did not need this little chit reminding her of it. In her clumsy endeavor to use Bianca’s fear of the Rom as a convenient weapon, she had over looked the obvious. Heloise’s latest attempt at cruelty had backfired. Not even bothering to excuse herself, she turned on her heels and flounced away, making her way toward the head table and her husband.
For a moment Bianca felt a bit guilty that her father would have to listen to Heloise’s insecurities, but then she reasoned that he was the one who married the woman. Let him deal with her bitter carping.
It was bad enough that Bianca had not yet overcome her uncommon fear of Rom, but knowing that she had gypsy blood in her cut like a knife. Her dear, sweet mother had come from this band of Rom and to feel such fear of her own people, made Bianca feel like a traitor to her mother’s memory.
With a sadness of heart, Bianca made her way up to her tower chamber, where she went to sit at her small writing desk, a small, solitary figure. She shivered as she opened the precious well of ink and picked up a long, sharpened quill. What she wished for above all else was to be held in the warm embrace of a certain magnificent warlord. It was the memory of their time together in his chambers that inspired her writing this night. With all her emotion running high, her quill glided across the parchment and her story built on itself until she had covered several pages. Her hopes and dreams came alive with the story of a magnificent knight in shining armor who rescued his ladylove from the horrible fire-breathing beast and in the end pledged his undying love for her, before carrying her away on his mighty black stallion to live happily ever after.
When her candle had burned down to a nub and began to sputter, Bianca doused it and climbed into her cold, empty bed. As she lay in the dark, her mind was filled with thoughts of the man who was so close and yet so far away from being exactly what she had dreamed of her whole life. A deep craving for someone to love and cherish her filled her with such anguish that she could actually feel pain in her chest as if her heart were breaking. Tears squeezed their way from the corners of her closed eyes and trailed down her cheeks, as she lay alone in her bed. She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned on her side, determined to lose herself in sleep. Her last conscious thought was a prayer asking for the morrow to dawn bringing a better, brighter day.