Free Once Upon a Kiss by Tanya Anne Crosby

keenly, but disregarded the barb, knowing full well that she was
baiting him. He refused to be manipulated. He turned to the maid, persisting,
“I demand the name.”
    To his
disgust, the young woman began to quiver before him. “Oh, m-m’lord...
please...”
    “God’s
teeth, woman, I cannot believe you would allow the fiend to go unpunished,” he
told her scathingly.
    “’T-Twas
no one, m’lord,” the maid declared fervently. She fingered her cheek anxiously,
averting her gaze. “I-I swear! I merely fell from my bed ’tis all.”
    “Fell
from your bed, my arse!”
    “How
dare you speak to her so,” Dominique interjected.
    At her
censure, Blaec eyed her once more, though with little compunction. He could
scarcely credit that the wench was so unwilling to name the culprit. He knew
full well that she’d not fallen from her bed, and was on the verge of telling
her just so, for he’d witnessed the other bruises, as well, but then he looked
at Dominique—truly looked at her—and found his tongue stilled. Only
were the maid protecting her lord could she possibly lie so, and in protecting
her lord, perhaps she protected her mistress as well. At the look in
Dominique’s eyes, he found inexplicably that he could not accuse William with
her standing before him looking so distressed.
    His
lips curved contemptuously, though he was uncertain which disgusted him most:
his sudden weakness toward Dominique, or the maid’s blind devotion to her
master. “And what of the gown?” he could not help but point out, turning to eye
the maid sharply. “It rent itself on your descent to the floor, I presume?”
    Alyss
peered down at the gown in question, as though in a stupor, and then shook her
head as she met his gaze once more. “I-I do not know,” she persisted. Panicking
at his doubtful expression, she said a little more hysterically, “I-I do not,
m’lord!”
    “Leave
her be, at last!” Dominique demanded, intervening between them suddenly, her
expression fierce. Blaec watched with growing disgust as she enfolded the woman
gently within her arms and patted her reassuringly. “Can you not see that you
are distressing her?”
    His
brow lifted. “Unlike her mistress, it seems, the wench frightens much too
easily, demoiselle, for I’ve not threatened her at all. I merely requested to
know the name of the miscreant who abused her, so that I might deal with him
justly.”
    Dominique’s
lashes fell momentarily, thick as smoke upon her creamy cheeks. “Aye, well...
she says she does not know.”
    He
could tell when her eyes met his once more that she’d drawn the same conclusion
he had. Still, he found he could say nothing to accuse her brother, for in her
beautiful blue eyes—those eyes that were so much like her despicable
sibling’s—he recognized both her acknowledgment and her denial.
    She
knew.
    She had
to know.
    Yet she
lifted her chin, denying, all the same, and dared to command him, “Let her be,
my lord.”
    When
she’d thought him responsible, she’d been quick enough to speak, yet now he
sensed fear that the possibility should be spoken at all. Which led him to
wonder if she knew... or whether she merely suspected...
    Could
she possibly not know how detestable her brother was?
    To his
disgust, he had the overwhelming desire to go to her. Her eyes were wide and liquid
suddenly.
    Mesmerizing.
God, but he could lose himself in those brilliant blue pools.
    “If
you’ve something to say, my lord, say it and be done,” she said breathlessly,
her chest heaving softly.
    With
fear? grief? anger?
    She
looked as though she would burst into tears, yet she did not, and he found that
suddenly it did not matter. If she would protect her brother, then so be it. He
shook his head, unwilling to press the matter further.
    Even
so, he could not quite shed the urge to enfold her into his arms... just as
she’d done with the maid... fool that he was, for she was not his to comfort.
    Neither
did she need him to comfort