by Connie Mason
“Think you they will lower the bridge, master?” Raj asked.
Dominic sent Raj a smug smile when he heard the sound of gears and saw that the drawbridge was slowly being lowered.
“You have your answer, Raj.”
Once the bridge was in place, Dominic clattered across, followed closely by Raj and the two score knights attached to his service. Dominic’s smile turned sour, however, when the grilled portcullis remained firmly in place. He reined in sharply and waited, his famous temper growing shorter by the minute.
“A warrior rides out to meet us, master,” Raj said with a hint of amusement.
Dominic saw no reason for levity until his mind registered the fact that the warrior approaching the portcullis was a woman. Tall and shapely, she wielded a sword as if she knew how to use it and wasn’t afraid to do so.
Dominic’s first thought was that this woman was no vassal. A headdress of semitransparent linen covered her head, held in place by a gold circlet. Her golden hair hung free beneath the headdress, proclaiming her an unmarried woman, and a fringe of bangs across her forehead curled seductively beneath the circlet of gold.
Her deep red under-gown had long, fitted sleeves and appeared to be made of the finest wool. Her over-gown of dark blue was belted at the hips with a gold chain and embroidered at the hem in a green, blue and black motif. She reined in at the closed portcullis and aimed a fierce glare at Dominic.If she hadn’t looked so bloodthirsty, Dominic would have laughed at her. She appeared too young to be Fairchild’s widow, so he assumed she was his daughter.
If this was the woman he was to wed, Lord help him!
Rose of Ayrdale stared through the iron grillwork at the knight demanding entrance and knew not what to make of his unexpected appearance. No good would come of his visit, she was sure. Clad from head to toe in chain mail shirt, hood and leggings, he sat his destrier as if he were a part of the magnificent animal. His white linen, knee-length surcoat was belted at the waist with leather, and a broadsword hung in its scabbard from a baldric slung over his right shoulder.
Rose studied the dragon emblem emblazoned on the triangular shield he carried, and frowned. Some thing jogged her memory but was quickly lost when she noted the look of irritation on the knight’s ruggedly handsome face and the spark of anger in his dark eyes. He looked so ferocious, so dangerous, that she brought her heavy sword up defensively.
“Who are you? State your business with Ayrdale and be gone.”
“Who are you?” Dominic challenged.
“A daughter of Ayrdale. What do you want?”
Suddenly a guardsman came riding up to Rose. He brought his horse close to hers, leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She blanched, took an other look at the fierce knight demanding entrance and immediately backed away.
“Why has the Dragon Lord come to Ayrdale?“she asked Dominic.
“Raise the portcullis and I will explain.”
“Nay. I am in charge during my father’s absence and I deny you entrance.”
Sensing his master’s waning patience, Dominic’s destrier reared but was quickly brought under control with a firm hand. “Open in the name of the king.”
Rose glanced past Dragon at the party of armed guardsmen riding with him. She was not at all convinced that letting them inside the keep was a good idea.
“King John is a tyrant,” Rose charged. “He has imprisoned my father in the Tower on flimsy charges.”
“I bring news of your father,” Dominic countered, then added in an aside to Raj. The woman must be lacking in wits to defy me.”
Rose lowered the sword. It had become too heavy a weight for her slender wrists, but she would have wielded it and gladly in defense of Ayrdale. She had trained with her father’s knights because she was his firstborn and the closest thing to a son he had. She wasn’t as strong as a man, but she could defend herself should the need arise.
“How do I know you speak the truth?”
“Summon someone who can read, and I will show him the king’s seal on the official document I carry.”
Rose sent him a contemptuous look. “I can read, Lord Dragon.”
Dominic stared at her, obviously skeptical, then shrugged and removed a scroll from a pouch he carried at his waist. He guided his destrier close to the portcullis, unrolled the scroll partway and held it up for Rose’s inspection. Rose frowned when she noticed that Dragon had exposed the king’s royal seal but left the body of the document concealed. An unsettling sensation twisted her gut. Was he trying to trick her?
“As you can see,” Dominic said, “the document bears the royal seal.”
“Lord Dragon speaks the truth, my lady,” the guardsman said. “He is the king’s champion. I have heard tales of his bravery in the Crusade and his skill in the lists. If he says he has news of your father, I am inclined to believe him.”
“I trust your judgment, Sir Eric,” Rose said. “Order the portcullis raised and inform the guardsmen to keep their wits about them while Lord Dragon and his guardsmen are within the keep.”
“Immediately, my lady,” Sir Eric said as he wheeled his horse about.
Rose’s palfrey inched backward as the portcullis was raised by slow degrees; then she turned and motioned for Dragon to follow as she rode past the barbican and through a passageway leading into the outer bailey. The murder holes in the stone ceiling must have made Lord Dragon nervous, Rose reflected when she looked back and saw him flinch and raise his shield.
“Fear not, my lord,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You are not about to be slain.”
The architect was a genius,” he replied.
Rose rode through the outer bailey and paused be fore another portcullis that opened into the inner bailey, waiting for Dragon and his guardsmen to catch up. The portcullis was raised and she rode through.
Dominic followed, admiring the shapely curve of her bottom outlined beneath her clothing. If she wasn’t such a sharp-tongued witch he might enjoy being wed to her, but taming the woman was bound to be more chore than pleasure.
Silently he contemplated the young beauty’s peaches-and-cream complexion and golden hair, unfavorably comparing her with his mistress’s striking dark comeliness and ebony tresses. God’s nightgown, why couldn’t John have allowed him to wed Veronica, the lady of his choice? He probably loved Veronica as much as he could love any woman. Marriage to either of the Fairchild women would be a disaster.
Dominic passed through the gate into the inner bailey and took stock of his new holding with a critical eye, noting with approval the rectangular towers that topped the curtain wall at regular intervals. Nestled against the wall were various buildings and outbuildings. He identified a brewery, a storage shed, a thatched barn and stables, a smithy, a mews and, next to the keep, a chapel. Stretching his neck, Dominic caught a glimpse of a fenced-in garden, and beyond that an orchard and beehives. Ayrdale appeared to be thriving despite its absent lord.
Fairchild’s fair daughter dismounted before the keep’s stone stairs and tossed the reins of her palfrey to a squire. Dominic barked out orders to his guardsmen and followed close on her heels as she mounted the long staircase. Another squire sprinted ahead and opened the immense oak doors for them. Trusting no one when it came to his master’s life, Raj brought up the rear, his huge hand resting on his sword.
Dominic’s appreciative glance swept over the great hall. Trestle tables had already been set up for the evening meal, and villeins hurried about performing their duties. The head table, resting upon a raised dais, was set with fine cloth and plates and cups of wrought silver for the lord, his family and their guests. A huge hearth warmed the large chamber, and the rushes smelled sweet and clean. Comfortable chairs and benches were positioned around the hearth for the lord and his lady to take their ease.
Dominic’s sharp gaze focused upon the two women who rose from their chairs and waited for him to approach. He had nearly reached them when he came to an abrupt halt, his gaze riveted on the younger of t
he two women. She was the exact image of the young woman who had met him at the portcullis. He blinked and looked again. The same hair, the same eyes, the same nose.Identical twins! Had the king known that Lord Fairchild had not one but two daughters?
Smiling, the older woman stepped forward and curtsied. “My lord, welcome to Ayrdale. I am sorry my husband cannot greet you himself but he would want me to bid you welcome. I am Lady Nelda of Ayrdale, and these—”
“Mama,” the warrior maiden cautioned. “Lord Dragon brings news of Papa. Perhaps we should hear him out before we offer hospitality.”
Lady Nelda’s eyes sparkled with excitement and she clasped her hands over her heart. Though she was older than her daughters, Dominic thought her every bit as lovely.
“You have news of my husband, my lord? Oh, my, ‘tis so long since we have heard anything. Please tell me what you know.”
Dominic pulled off his hood and bowed over the lady’s hand. Telling this kind lady that her husband had been put to death wasn’t going to be easy, but being a straightforward man, he got right to the point. No sense in prolonging it.
“Unwelcome news, I fear. I regret to inform you that Edwyn of Ayrdale is dead.”
Lady Nelda turned deathly pale, and Dominic feared she would faint. He stood ready to catch her but Sir Eric of Carlyle rushed forward to steady her. The lady did not faint, however, but one of the twins swayed and would have fallen had her sister not placed a bracing arm around her.
The twin who had met him at the portcullis with the bared sword glared at him, her fury palpable. “Did you have a hand in my father’s death? I want the truth, Lord Dragon, if you are capable of telling it. The last we heard, my father was residing in the Tower.”
This hot-tempered girl was definitely not for him, Dominic decided. He glanced at the more demure sister, his look speculative. She stood with her eyes downcast and her hands folded in front of her; her lips moved in silent prayer. She appeared to be opposite in nature to the spitfire who dared challenge him with blazing eyes and raging temper. If he could not have Veronica, he would take the shy sister and find a husband for the other. A woman with a sharp tongue, bad temper and defiant nature would try his patience.
“I had naught to do with Lord Edwyn’s death,” Dominic said firmly.“I am but relaying the king’s message.”
“Our thanks, Lord Dragon,” Nelda murmured. “Our steward will direct you to a chamber, where you may rest before returning to London. If you will excuse me, I wish to mourn my lord in private.”
“There is more, my lady,” Dominic said. He removed the rolled parchment from his pouch and handed it to her. “Perhaps this will explain your situation more clearly.”
Lady Nelda read the document, her face turning paler by the minute.This cannot be true, my lord,” she gasped when she’d reached the end.
“What is it, Mama?” the outspoken twin asked.
“The king has given Ayrdale to Lord Dragon. Every hectare of land, the keep and its vassals are his by royal decree.”
The king cannot do that!” the girl exclaimed. “Papa did not deserve to die, and we do not deserve to be turned out of our home.” She stomped her foot. “Oh, I wish I had never let Lord Dragon inside the keep. Where is my sword?”
There’s more,” Lady Nelda whispered. “One of us must wed Lord Dragon.”
The document dropped from her hands, and she groped for the chair behind her. Her daughter picked up the scroll, read it through once and tossed it into the hearth.
“That is what we think of Lackland’s orders,” she sneered. She turned to the captain of the guard. “Sir Eric, see that Lord Dragon and his guardsmen are promptly escorted from Ayrdale and sent on their way.”
“You will do no such thing, Captain,” Dominic said in an authoritative voice. “The castle guards are mine to command. If you have heard of me, you are aware of my reputation as a crusader and warrior. I had naught to do with your lord’s death; I am but following the king’s orders regarding Ayrdale. If you and Fair-child’s personal guardsmen do not wish to serve me, then you may leave immediately. But I sincerely hope you will remain and help protect Dragonwyck.”
“Dragonwyck!” the outspoken twin exclaimed.
“Aye. Tis the name I’ve chosen for my demesne,” Dominic said, ignoring the girl’s gasp of outrage.
Sir Eric looked askance at Lady Nelda. He appeared to be torn between loyalty to his dead lord and the desire to serve the new one. “I am sworn to protect Lady Nelda and her daughters.”
The choice is yours to make,” Lady Nelda said faintly. “May I leave now, Lord Dragon?”
“Not yet,” Dominic said in a tone that stopped her in her tracks.“You may leave after I choose my bride.” He turned to Sir Eric. “Fetch the priest.”
Lady Nelda looked deflated, and the meek sister began to weep silent tears.
“I would know your daughters’ names, madam,” Dominic said. He had already decided not to marry the grieving widow. He wanted passion, not tears, in his marriage bed.
* * *
Rose stared at Dominic in horror. The thought that one of them would be forced to marry the Dragon Lord was incomprehensible—nay, absurd. How could anyone expect her mother to take a new husband so soon after her beloved lord’s death? And everyone in the keep knew that her sister was meant for a religious life. Father had promised that Starla could enter the convent as soon as he returned from London. That left… Rose, and she knew that no man in his right mind would choose a sharp-tongued bride.
But Rose could not help being the way she was. Though they were identical twins, Rose and Starla were as different as night and day. Sweet, shy Starla had her heart set on entering a convent and becoming a nun. It was all she had ever aspired to. Rose, the firstborn by five minutes, had always known she would be the one to marry and rule Ayrdale once her father was gone, but she hadn’t expected the day to arrive so soon.
Rose looked into her sister’s stricken eyes and quickly decided she would make whatever sacrifice was necessary to save Starla from the Dragon Lord. Her quick mind had already hit upon a plan. Placing an arm around Starla’s quaking shoulders, Rose looked Dragon boldly in the eyes and said in a quiet voice,“I am Starla. Rose is my twin.”
Starla started to protest, but Rose gave her such a stem look, she quickly clamped her mouth shut. Lady Nelda merely stared at Rose as if she had lost her mind. None beyond their immediate circle had heard her words.
Dragon seemed not to notice their agitation as he raised Starla’s chin and stared into her frightened eyes. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned toward those gathered around him and said in a loud voice, “I will wed Rose.” Every villein, guardsman, squire and freeman in the great hall stared at Dominic with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
“People of Dragonwyck, heed me,” Dominic said in a loud voice as the throng of vassals inched closer. “I am Dominic Dragon, your new lord, and Dragonwyck is the name I have chosen for my demesne. You are all invited to witness the marriage of your new lord to Lady Rose.”
A tall man of middle years stepped forward. “I am Sir Braden, Ayrdale’s steward. May I ask what happened to Lord Edwyn of Ayrdale?”
“I will tell you.” It was the warrior maiden, the one named Starla, who answered as she shoved past Dominic. “King John ordered my father killed and gave Ayrdale to Lord Dragon as payment for the deed.”
Dominic’s temper hung by a single thread. Instinct told him the acid-tongued twin was going to be trouble, and he was glad he had chosen her sister. “Not true. I had no hand in Edwyn of Ayrdale’s death,” Dominic claimed.“From what I have heard, Edwyn plotted treason. I was given Ayrdale because I am capable of protecting England’s border against Scottish invaders.”
“So the Dragon says,” the girl spat.
Dominic had taken all he could of the viper’s jibes. A harsh reprimand was on the tip of his tongue, but he withheld it when he saw a brown-robed man with tonsured hair and a round belly running behi
nd Sir Eric, holding up his robes to keep from tripping on them.
“Did I hear aright,my lord?” the priest asked when he reached Dominic. “Is Lord Edwyn truly dead? Did you bring his body home for burial?”
Dominic glanced at Lady Nelda and cursed King John beneath his breath when he saw a glimmer of hope in her misty eyes—a hope he couldn’t fulfill.
“Nay, Father, I was not charged with that duty. I believe Lord Fairchild was buried in London.”
“In unconsecrated ground?” the priest asked in a shocked voice.
” Tis all right, Father Nyle,“Lady Nelda said. “Our Lord in heaven knows my husband was a good man. We do not need his body to mourn him.”
“We must go to the chapel immediately and offer a Mass for his soul,” Father Nyle said. He turned to leave.
“Nay, Father,“Dominic said, staying the priest. “You will perform a wedding within the hour.”
“A wedding?” The priest bristled indignantly. ” Tis not proper. We are in deep mourning.”
“I fear I must insist,” Dominic said. “I intend to wed Lady Rose within the hour.”
Rose shuddered involuntarily at his words, and her mother stirred herself to object. “I must protest, my lord. Tis far too soon to think about a wedding.”
“Protest away, my lady, but ‘twill do you no good. I am but following the king’s orders. Expediency is important for reasons that should be clear to everyone. Dragonwyck has been too long without a master, and dire consequences could result should an enemy of England try to claim the land for himself through marriage to one of you ladies.”
Father Nyle sputtered to himself but offered no further protest. “Very well, my lord.If you insist, I will perform the ceremony. The least I can do is see to the legal aspects of the union. Lord Edwyn would have wanted that for his daughter. Furthermore, I feel an obligation to protect our dead lord’s widow and other daughter. They deserve the security of a home, my lord.”
“I will hie myself to the convent,” Lady Nelda said, “and my daughter shall come with me.”
