The Dragon Lord

by Connie Mason

  AROUSING FIRE

  “Have you never seen an unclothed male before?”

  “I am a virgin,” Rose said indignantly. “Had I known what awaited me in the marriage bed,I would have joined Mama and Starla in the convent.”

  Dominic sat on the edge of the bed and eased her over to make room for him. Idly, he caressed her breast. “I wonder, will you express those same sentiments after we make love?”

  “Like most men, you think too much of yourself. Just get on with it”

  “Nay, my thorny Rose. I am proud of my ability to arouse a woman to passion, and I am not going to hurry or let you talk me out of making you want me.”

  “I am your wife, not your mistress. I do not have to want you.”

  His gaze traveled the length of her nude body. “Aye, youare my wife,” he said possessively.

  It was true. Rosewas his. Her body was appealing in every way. He ached to be inside her, but he wasn’t going to let his lust get in the way of proving that he could make her hot for him.

  A Leisure Book, Dorchester Publishing

  Copyright 2001

  Prologue

  London, October 1214

  “Harder, Dragon. Oh, God, yes. Don’t stop.”

  Poised atop the dark-haired beauty, Dominic Dragon of Pendragon pumped vigorously between his mistress’s plump white thighs. Raising himself up on his elbows, he watched her face as she moaned and tossed her head in wild abandon.

  Dominic had taken the young widow as his mistress upon his return from the Crusade two years ago. Lady Veronica was beautiful, cultured and passionate, and Dominic was convinced that she was the woman he wanted to marry.

  Dominic had led the Pendragon knights to victory over the Saracens during the Fourth Crusade, earning high praise from king and country. Dubbed the Dragon Lord for his courage and fierce determination to prevail over the enemy, Dominic had become a favorite of King John’s court and the king’s champion.

  Dominic’s thoughts scattered as Veronica wrapped her legs around his hips and bowed her back to take him deeper. He pushed himself to the hilt; he was hard and thick, but she took all of him and begged for more.

  “You are incredible, my fierce Dragon,” Veronica encouraged. “I am nearly there. Just a little more … ahhh…” She screamed his name, pulled his lips down to hers and thrust her tongue into his mouth.

  Dominic flexed his hips and went deep; he could feel his climax building clear down to his toes. Throwing his head back, he opened his mouth and roared as he withdrew from her slippery warmth and spilled his seed onto the pristine sheets. He would have preferred to spill inside Veronica, but there were no bastards in the long, illustrious Dragon history and he had no intention of being the first to tarnish the family’s unblemished record.

  Breathing heavily, Dominic collapsed beside Veronica, wishing he could remain in her soft bed and even softer arms instead of traveling to Westminster tonight to meet with King John.

  “As much as it distresses me, sweeting, I have to go,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed.

  Veronica placed a slender hand on his chest and pushed him back down. “Must you?” Her lips pursed into a charming pout as she leaned over him so that her generous breasts dangled tantalizingly above his face.“Can you not stay a little longer?” She glanced coyly at his cock, wet her finger and touched the tip.

  “The dragon is stirring to life again,” she purred.

  Unable to resist, Dominic licked her turgid nipples before gently pushing her away.

  The king has summoned me to the royal palace at Westminster and I am already late.”

  “What does John Lackland want now? How long will his barons stand for his dictatorial ways?”

  Dominic uncoiled himself from Veronica’s clinging arms and scrambled for his clothing. The puckered scar that ran the length of his leg from hip to knee, the result of a near fatal wound, stood out in pale relief, and he turned slightly away from Veronica, presenting a more pleasing view. He sensed her looking at him and ignored her glittering, almost feral gaze. He wasn’t about to let her coax him back to bed.

  Veronica stretched luxuriously, smiling with cat-like satisfaction as she regarded Dominic’s naked form. She found his scar disgusting, but the rest of him was so perfect she was able to ignore it. His body was extraordinarily fit; his shoulders and upper torso rippled with hard muscles from wielding sword and lance in the lists, and his sculpted belly was flat and taut. Her gaze wandered downward as she watched him pull on his braies and hose, admiring the tight muscles of his thighs and buttocks.

  She sighed when he pulled his knee-length tunic over his head and lifted her gaze to his face. His jaw was square and firm, hinting at his stubborn nature. His high cheekbones, the bold slash of his nose and his full sensual lips were compelling attributes. His eyes were midnight dark, so intimidating one felt the need to look away when pinned with his penetrating gaze.

  “I cannot speak for Lackland’s barons, but my own thought is that the king’s cruelty and unjust laws are insupportable,” Dominic said. The barons have been at odds with John since he was routed from France by King Philip’s forces and forced to give up most of Normandy. Rumor has it that he killed his nephew, Prince Arthur, who was regarded by many as the true heir to the throne.”

  Veronica stretched and posed for Dragon’s benefit. “I care not what the king does. Will you return to me tonight?”

  Dominic fell into a short brooding silence. “I think not. I know not how long he will keep me, or what he wants of me, but he will probably invite me to spend the night at the palace if the hour grows late.”

  “Pity,” Veronica complained.Tomorrow night then?”

  “Perhaps.” He assumed a thoughtful look. “Mayhap King John has decided to return to Normandy to reclaim the land he lost and has need of knights to accompany him.”

  “Bah,” Veronica jeered. ” Tis a wonder Lackland’s influential barons have not forced him to abdicate. Why do you continue to serve him?”

  “I am his vassal. Tis my duty to serve him wherever and whenever I am needed.” He buckled on his sword and leaned over the bed. “Kiss me good-bye, sweeting.”

  Dominic’s mood changed abruptly once he left Veronica. His pleasant manner dropped away the moment the door closed behind him, and he became the dark and dangerous knight whose very name made his enemies quake and his friends tread lightly around him.

  Dominic was met outside the front door of Veronica’s newly constructed stone manor by Raj, a huge Arab who had attached himself to Dominic after Dominic had freed him from Saracen slavery. When Dominic returned from the Crusade, Raj accompanied him to England, serving as squire, faithful friend and protector.

  “Where do we go, master?” Raj asked, holding the reins of Dominic’s high-prancing destrier as he mounted.

  “To Westminster, Raj. I’m late.”

  Raj mounted his own horse, unfurled the Dragon pennant and rode in silence beside Dominic through the streets of London. They passed St. Paul’s Cathedral and crossed the Thames over the new stone bridge, then rode through narrow paved streets crowded with vendors, costermongers and pickpockets. The city, along with its population, had grown, Dominic thought as they passed wharves loaded with goods from as far away as Constantinople. The city was in the process of using shares of its wealth to buy its freedom from royal rule. Soon the city would be able to elect its own mayor and sheriffs.

  Dominic and Raj approached Ludgate, the southwest gate of the city, joining the flow of humanity leaving before the gate closed for the night. Suddenly the parade of people slowed, then stopped. Dominic drew rein, his gaze following their pointing fingers, grimacing at the grisly sight he beheld. Another example of King John’s cruel justice, Dominic guessed as he g
azed at the man’s head spitted upon a pike embedded atop the Roman wall. Aware of the king’s penchant for torture, Dominic could well imagine the suffering the man had endured before death had claimed him.

  “Do you know him?” Raj asked.

  “He looks familiar,” Dominic reflected, “but I cannot place him. Perhaps the king will enlighten me.”

  They passed through Ludgate, leaving the city and its teeming hordes behind. The city now spread well beyond its high Roman walls. There was an extending line of rich men’s mansions and bishops’ palaces along the country road that led from Ludgate to Westminster, where none had existed a few years before. All were imposing, well-constructed manors backed by spacious gardens and trees.

  Dominic’s distinctive banner was recognized as they approached Westminster’s main gate, and they rode past the barbican and gatehouse without being challenged. Dominic drew rein before the studded oak door and dismounted.

  “Shall I wait for you here, master?” Raj asked, grasping the reins of Dominic’s destrier.

  “Nay. See to the horses and find yourself a meal and a bed,” Dominic advised. “My meeting with the king is likely to extend past curfew. I will summon you when I am ready to leave.”

  “As you wish, master,” Raj said. “I will not be far away should you have need of me.”

  Raj led the horses away as Dominic ascended the stone steps to the palace entrance. A guard opened the door and Dominic stepped inside.

  “His Majesty is awaiting you, Lord Dragon,” the guard said. “Follow me.”

  Dominic was ushered into the king’s private chambers. At first glance the chamber appeared to be empty. “I do not like to be kept waiting,” King John said as he stepped from the shadows of the window embrasure. “You are late, Dragon.”

  Dominic was more than a little surprised to find the king alone. “I was unavoidably detained, sire,” Dominic said, bowing before the monarch.

  “Would that we could all be detained by a woman as lovely as Lady Veronica,” the king said with sly innuendo. “How fare your sire and his heir?”

  Dominic ignored John’s reference to Veronica. “Father is well, Your Majesty. So is my brother,the future baron of Pendragon. Frederick’s wife is breeding again. Her third, so there is no lack of heirs to Pen-dragon.”

  “And your mother?”

  Dominic sent him a puzzled look. “Mother is fine, but I hardly think you asked me here to quiz me about the health of my family. As well you know, I have spent scant time at Pendragon after earning my spurs.”

  “What are your plans for the future, Dragon?”

  “Nothing definite. I have been following the tournament circuit and have fared very well in the lists,” Dominic said.“And I acquired some wealth during my travels abroad. A landless knight must make his own way, but I have been fortunate and am able to live comfortably. Mayhap I will return to Pendragon in time, to serve my father and brother.”

  Hands behind his back, John began to pace. Suddenly he stopped and whirled to face Dominic.“You should wed.”

  A slow grin curved Dominic’s sensual mouth. He had been thinking along those same lines. Perhaps the king would reward his loyalty with land and a manor. He had, after all, answered John’s call when France threatened to invade England. The invasion never took place, however, because John promised to become the pope’s vassal and pledged an annual tribute of I,000 marks, ending the interdict excommunicating England from the church and the need for war.

  “Marriage would suit me,” Dominic admitted, thinking of Veronica and the passion they shared.

  “Excellent,” John said, rubbing his hands together. “You will leave immediately.”

  Dominic was still thinking fondly of Veronica when the import of the king’s words struck him. His head jerked up.

  “Leave, sire? Where am I going?”

  “To claim your bride. You will be pleased to know your wife comes with a barony, Dragon—rich lands, serfs, villeins and freemen to work your fields and tend your animals. The barony is immense, complete with a thriving village and several fiefs. You will have no problem paying the taxes levied on a great demesne like Ayrdale.”

  Ayrdale. Where had Dominic heard that name? It mattered not. Dominic had no wish to wed any woman save Veronica.

  “You do me great honor, sire,” Dominic replied warily. He’d learned through experience that John gave nothing without attaching a price to it.

  “I have need of someone I can trust in the North, Dragon,” John said. “Ayrdale marches along the border with Scotland, near the Cheviot Hills. The fortress was built by William the Conqueror and given in perpetuity to the Fairchild family. It has played an important role throughout history in maintaining peace along the Scottish border. The former owner, Edwyn of Ayrdale, was one of my trusted barons.”

  “Former owner?” Dominic interjected.

  “Aye. I learned that Edwyn was urging my barons to march on London to force me to sign a document outlining their rights and privileges. The Articles of the Barons,I Believe they call it. I ordered his execution to discourage rebellion.”

  Suddenly Dominic recalled the severed head spitted atop a pike on the Roman wall. “That wouldn’t by chance be Lord Fairchild’s head I saw as I passed through Ludgate, would it?”

  “Aye. He was held in the Tower for several months, but his death was inevitable,” John said. “It shall serve as a warning to others who conspire to diminish my power. With Fairchild gone and my barons’ loyalty suspect, I need a baron I can trust. Scottish lairds eager to extend their lands into England are particularly worrisome in the North.

  “I would not take it amiss if you were to court the friendship of my marcher barons and report their activities to me. I have reason to believe they are plotting against me.”

  “I am grateful for your trust, sire, but why must I wed?”

  John frowned. “Lord Fairchild left a widow and daughter, and I do not wish to appear cruel and unfeeling toward them. Twould speak well for me if I were to find a husband and protector for Ayrdale instead of giving the barony to a man with a wife. I do not want it said that I turned a grieving widow and daughter out of their home.”

  Dominic nearly laughed in John’s face. Everyone knew the king was bloodthirsty, greedy and treacherous, so why the pretense of kindness? The barony tempts me,” Dominic admitted, “but wedding a woman I have never seen does not.”

  ” Tis done all the time,” John said dismissively. “And you may choose which you prefer, mother or daughter. I have been told that Lady Nelda, Fairchild’s widow, bore her daughter at age thirteen and is still of an age to bear more children. I know naught about the daughter except she is of marriageable age. If Lady Nelda strikes your fancy, she is yours, but I would take the daughter, were I you.”

  “I want neither mother nor daughter,” Dominic proclaimed.

  “There is no room for argument, Dragon. You will do as I order. Keep Lady Veronica as your leman if you wish, but youwill wed one of Ayrdale’s ladies. Your marriage is necessary to gain the loyalty of Ayrdale’s vassals.”

  “As you wish, sire,” Dominic replied, fuming inwardly. Gaining a barony was a boon he hadn’t expected, but marrying a woman other than Veronica, who suited him so well, did not appeal to him. Nor did choosing between a mother and daughter who would certainty be grieving the loss of husband or father.

  “How many knights serve under Ayrdale’s banner?” Dominic asked.

  “A score or more,” John said, shrugging.“Eric of Carlyle is captain of the guard. He is a good man, and faithful, if you can win him over after he hears of his lord’s execution.”

  Dominic stared at John in horror. “Have Fairchild’s family not been informed of his death?”

  John looked momentarily disconcerted but quickly regained his composure. “You are to carry word to Ayrdale of their lord’s demise. When you leave London, you will have in your possession my royal seal on a document authorizing your marriage to one of the ladies of Ayrda
le. I understand the keep has a resident priest who will perform the ceremony. Can you be ready to leave two days hence?”

  Two days, Dominic thought dismally. Hardly enough time to prepare for a journey of a sennight or more, but what choice did he have? “Aye, I will be ready.”

  “Oh, one more thing, Dragon,” John said,Lady Nelda is Scottish. Her brother is Murdoc MacTavish, a powerful border laird who has had his eye on Ayrdale for many years. Tis one of the reasons for haste. Wed and bed your bride the day you arrive. Should MacTavish learn of Fairchild’s death before you reach Ayrdale, he will surely try to claim the land for himself.”

  “If the Ayrdale guardsmen are faithful to their former lord, they may try to prevent me from entering the fortress,“Dominic said. “Should I prepare for a siege?”

  “I doubt a siege will be necessary. Once you state that you carry word of their former lord, the gates will open to you. Furthermore, your name and reputation should command the trust and respect of those inside. Tis why I chose you for this honor, Lord Dragon. Enjoy Ayrdale and your new bride.”

  “I intend to rename my barony Dragonwyck,” Dominic said with sudden decision. “Lord Dragon of Dragonwyck.” He smiled. “Aye, I like the sound of it.”

  Chapter One

  A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.

  —Gertrude Stein

  Dominic’s destrier danced impatiently beneath him as he drew rein at the moat’s edge and stared at the magnificent fortress with its four square crenellated towers honed smooth by decades of wind, rain, snow and sun. Set in a narrow glen between two craggy hills, the stone fortress was surrounded by high walls. Dominic was not pleased to note that the drawbridge securing the keep against invaders was raised, preventing him from entering.

  Glancing upward, Dominic saw that the guards on the parapet were looking down at him and his party, but they appeared in no hurry to alert the fortress to his presence or to lower the bridge so he could enter.

  A sudden flurry on the battlements alerted Dominic to the fact that his distinctive banner, a rampant black dragon on a red field, had been seen and recognized.