Chapter Twenty-One
“Now is the time to sleep, Princess. You need your rest. Tomorrow I will take you to someone who can help you. There is a faery queen known as Gaethryn, whose magic can match that of your uncle the Red Wizard.”
“You refuse to help yourself? Aren’t dragons supposed to be bloodthirsty? We must strike! Together we can avenge my father!” There was no response. She was saddled with a very poor excuse for a dragon, she fumed to herself.
He responded by extending one wing, and gently, inexorably, drawing her into the fold of his body.
—The Dragon and the Blue Star by Analise Crewe
Dex watched Ana closely as they exited the carriage in front of the crouching stone beast of Drakefell Castle.
She’d been strangely quiet during the journey.
At first he’d been glad of the silence, then he’d begun to wonder what was wrong with her.
Was she ill? Or just having pangs of remorse for marrying him, discomfited by the mishaps and ill portents. Probably the latter.
When he helped her down, she felt so fragile and light in his grasp. He made a flourishing bow. “Your new house, milady.”
“House?” Her eyes widened in what looked like abject terror. “I don’t see a house. This is a fortress. There’s a portcullis. A moat with a drawbridge. Battlements.”
“Those are the usual elements of a castle.”
Her eyes shone with what looked like tears.
Was she about to weep in front of the long line of staff assembled in front of the house with military precision?
He sincerely hoped not. They kept their gazes pointed forward, but were obviously straining to catch a glimpse of their new mistress.
It wouldn’t be right to have that first impression be one of weakness.
“Ana. Are you all right? Do you need a moment before we greet the staff?”
“I . . .” She clutched her hands together at her throat, staring up at the time-darkened stone battlements.
She hated it. She was sorry she married him. She was going to run away the first chance she got. He shouldn’t have talked her into this marriage.
“It’s . . .” She took a shaky breath. “It’s .
. . absolutely magical! Like something from a fairy tale.
” A delighted smile played over her lips.
“Can’t you just imagine Qavox the dragon crouching there?
” She pointed up at the high walls surrounding the castle.
“I can see him launching off the wall, wings spread wide, blocking the sun over the village below.”
“Ah . . .” Dex attempted to picture such a fanciful occurrence with no luck. “I’m told during one siege the castle employed the use of a trebuchet, so there have been large projectiles launched from the walls.”
“Is that right? I’ll wager this castle has many tales to tell. I want to know all of them! I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I’d be living in something as grand, as wild and magical as this castle.”
“Then you like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” Late afternoon sunshine found the shades of apricot in her hair as she danced to the carriage where her maid was disembarking. “Tessie! Tessie, we’re going to live in a castle!”
“Yes, Your Grace. It’s majestic.”
“Don’t be too excited,” Dex said as the two women approached. “It’s terribly drafty and the towers have bats.”
“Ooh. Bats!” Ana clapped her hands. “Do the stairs creak most mysteriously? Are there suits of armor that move to inexplicable new locations during the dead of night?”
Dex shook his head. “Not that I’ve observed. But there are cracks in the walls that let in vast amounts of icy wind. You may prefer to live in London after experiencing a winter here.”
“I shan’t. I have a feeling that this castle and I are going to become fast friends. When I write the sequel to The Dragon and the Blue Star, I’ll set it in just such a castle. In fact, the castle will be a character in the novel.”
Dex smiled despite the stretching pain of the scars on his cheeks. He’d been worried that she would hate the castle and here she was already making it a character in a future novel. She constantly surprised and disarmed him.
She turned to him with shining eyes. “Are you smiling?”
“Never.”
“I think you were smiling. Come, my duke, show me my new abode.” She took his hand and led him forward.
McArdle, who had reached the castle ahead of them, glanced askance at the slip of a girl who had brought such merry chaos to the house in London. He made the introductions and Ana had a kind word for each member of the staff, from Mrs. Hedges, the jolly housekeeper, to the youngest scullery maid.
It was too much. She was too much. He was in grave danger of being charmed out of his customary malaise.
“I must visit my ailing steward,” he said gruffly as they entered the great hall. “I’ll see you for a light supper later this evening.”
As the duke strode back out the door without a backward glance, only one thought ricocheted round Ana’s mind: and after supper . . . the wedding night.
They’d slept in separate rooms in the inn on the journey from London to Surrey. Travel-weary, Ana had been only too happy to snuggle up on a comfortable bed and fall into an immediate slumber. But tonight . . . tonight there would be no peaceful slumber.
Tonight she faced the dragon in his castle. He might eat her whole.
The castle staff had stood stiffly, awaiting his inspection, like the ranks of an army.
But she hadn’t detected any fear on their faces.
Rather, she’d seen admiration, respect. There was something compelling about him.
Warburton against the world. A man who needed no one, showed no weakness, a man who was comfortable with silence and needed no society except his horses. How would she fit into his world?
She wanted to crack that stern facade, wanted to see him smile, or show some sign of softness.
Everyone jumped to his orders. Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He’d known he was marrying a redheaded spitfire.
She’d show him that he couldn’t treat her like a foot soldier.
She’d find a way under his skin, she’d find the cracks in his defenses, like the cracks in the stone castle walls.
“Aren’t you the prettiest wisp of a thing?” a maid asked, bustling into Ana’s cavernous new bedchamber and curtsying.
“Doesn’t have any meat on her bones,” another maid added, following close behind. They looked like twins wearing identical uniforms.
“You’re . . . Cloris and Agnes, are you not?
” She’d tried to make a mental association with each name she’d learned today.
Cloris had pale green eyes, matching the color her name described, which was convenient.
Agnes had a dour expression and deeply etched frown lines, which Ana had decided to remember by thinking she must be agonizing over some slight from her past.
“Bless you, what a memory,” Cloris said, clapping her hands with a gleeful smile.
“Lucky guess, I’m sure,” Agnes said.
“Are you sisters?”
“We are,” they spoke in unison.
“I’m one year older,” said Agnes heavily, as though the year she’d waited for her sister to be born had been interminable.
She wore her thick chestnut hair pulled back and fastened severely at the nape of her neck, while her cheerful sister wore hers in a coronet of braids with tendrils framing her face.
“You’ve met my lady’s maid, Tessie?” Ana asked, as Tessie entered the room.
“Pleased to meet you,” the sisters said in unison.
“Thank you, kindly.” Tessie seemed a little awed by the two older maids. She ducked her head shyly. “I’m not really a lady’s maid.”
“You are,” Ana said.
“The truth will out,” Tessie insisted. “I was a scullery maid before milady, that is Her Grace, promoted me.”
“You don’t say,” Agnes said with a baleful expression.
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Ana enthused. Tessie had been her only friend at the London townhouse when she’d arrived and the two of them had grown close.
“We’ve been waiting for this day ever so long. A bride at Drakefell Castle!” Cloris wiped at her eyes with her apron. “It makes me weep tears of joy. This castle has been silent and lonely for far too long.”
“Don’t be maudlin, Cloris, we’ve much work left to do,” Agnes said grimly.
“Do you think I might be assigned a smaller chamber?” Ana asked. “I might get lost in this cathedral of a room.”
“Oh no, this is your chamber, Your Grace, it adjoins that of His Grace. When it’s time, he’ll visit you here tonight.” Cloris pointed and spoke in hushed tones. “Through those doors.”
Ana studied the wooden doors, carved with twining vines. She said it so matter-of-factly but Ana’s imagination had run wild. Dex, opening the doors, wearing nothing but his black silk dressing gown that could be opened with one swift tug on the sash . . .
She gulped. “I . . . I hope I shall be ready.”
“Never you worry, Your Grace, we’ll prepare you, won’t we, Agnes? We’ll give you a nice hot bath to wash the travel grime away.”
Tessie began unpacking Ana’s clothing while Cloris and Agnes undressed Ana in preparation for her bath, which was being poured into an enormous bathing tub by a brigade of maids.
“Ow, what was that?” Ana twisted around. It felt as though someone had pinched her.
“Just me, Your Grace.” Cloris grinned. “Making sure you’re real. We’ve been longing for the duke to take a wife for so long, it feels like a dream.”
“Cloris!” Agnes remonstrated. “Behave yourself.”
“We didn’t think you’d be so young, though,” Cloris said, with a note of uncertainty.
Agnes helped Ana into a green silk dressing gown and tied the sash, a bit too tightly. “Is she up to the task, I wonder?” she muttered.
“Which task?” Ana asked.
“Why, winning the duke’s heart and restoring his good humor!” said Cloris. “He’s entirely too grave and taciturn. Ever since he came back from the war, he thunders around the countryside dressed all in black, frightening ladies and children alike with that scarred visage and his glowering looks.”