To Kiss in the Shadows by Lynn Kurland Page B

to do aught but give Kendrick a companionable flick on the ear in passing. Now, as she crossed over the enormously small and completely inadequate bridge that separated Blackmour’s aerie from the rest of England, she wished she had brawled with her brother-in-law truly. The victory might have occupied her mind enough to cause her to forget her nervousness.
    She dismounted in the courtyard. Well, she actually slid from her horse in something of a faint and found herself caught quite deftly by her husband, who set her on her feet as calmly as if he was accustomed to tending swooning wives daily.
    They entered the hall, and Lianna soon found herself surrounded by a press of people, adults and children, who couldn’t seem to get close enough to Jason. Children tugged at him, cast themselves into his arms, and wept at the sight of him. A handful of lordly men clapped him on the shoulder, and a pair of women greeted him with kisses and affectionate ruffles of his hair.
    And then the throng parted.
    The Dragon himself—and it could be no other—stood there, waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and a fierce look on his face.
    Jason took Lianna’s hand and pulled her with him. She didn’t want to resist. Not truly. Somehow, though, her heels just seemed to dig into the rushes of their own accord. It was to no avail, of course, for she soon found herself standing far too close to Christopher of Blackmour for her comfort.
    â€œMy lord,” Jason said, inclining his head.
    â€œSo,” the Dragon said gruffly, “you found yourself a bride.”
    â€œI did, my lord.”
    â€œBested that womanly brother of yours for her, I hear.”
    â€œThat, too, my lord,” Jason said, loudly enough to cover a mighty snort from said womanly brother.
    â€œLet me see her,” the Dragon said, “and tell her to stop quivering. I never devour brides until they’ve slept at least one peaceful night under my roof.”
    â€œOh, Christopher,” said one of the women with a sigh.
    Lianna looked from the woman, who was shaking her head, then back to the Dragon himself, who seemed to be having trouble maintaining his frown. Perhaps he was tempted to let it disintegrate into something more fierce.
    Jason was of no help to her. He stepped aside and placed her hand in the Dragon’s talon without so much as a flinch. Lianna swallowed over the hideously dry place in her throat and did her best to stand tall.
    â€œBlonde?” Christopher of Blackmour asked.
    Lianna blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œDark-haired, my lord,” Jason said dryly.
    Blackmour grunted. “Her nose is crooked.”
    Lianna felt her nose with her free hand. It was, as it happened, her best remaining feature. “It most certainly is not,” she said, frowning at her host.
    â€œBut surely those teeth are rotting.”
    â€œMy second best feature,” Lianna said stiffly, then she realized something that had escaped her attention whilst she was defending what beauty remained her.
    Christopher of Blackmour was looking at her.
    But he was not seeing her.
    She felt her mouth slide open. She gaped at her husband’s former master for several moments in silence whilst a pair of things that had never made sense to her suddenly became very clear.
    Blackmour rarely left his keep, but the rumor had been because he was too busy practicing his dark arts to do so.
    Jason had said his master had taught him to see with his heart, to look beyond what the eye normally was consumed by.
    And why not, when his master was blind?
    Lianna felt tears well up in her eyes and course down her cheeks before she could stop them.
    Christopher of Blackmour sighed. “Now I’ve made her weep. Gillian, have you a cloth about you for this poor girl? Jason, see what my sweet lady wife has to give you for the tending of your bride. By the saints, this gruff business works so much better when your sire does