The side of his face brushed against her hair. “I’m in yer corner now.”
The man was temptation dipped in caramel and swirled in chocolate. If she turned her head two inches, her lips would meet his, and she was sure she could find a way to enjoy a pulse-pounding make-out session right here on the back of this horse.
She forced herself to stare straight ahead. For all intents and purposes, Xavier was a man who lived by the rules of 1745. He probably wanted a woman who wore skirts and spent her time in the kitchen. Avery was not that woman. Besides, he wasn’t a man, he was a dragon, one whose future was uncertain. There were too many ways a romantic attachment to Xavier could go wrong. She was here for one reason and one reason only—to help him kill Lachlan and then bring him with her to the outside world to help protect her family from Eleanor. A romantic entanglement would only complicate things.
Adjusting the sword on her shoulder, she used it as an excuse to put a hair of space between them. “I’m in your corner too.”
Chapter Twenty
Xavier struggled to keep his dragon from taking hold. It had been a long time since his beast had wanted its way, but his inner dragon chuffed and squirmed in a desperate desire to claim Avery. His skin prickled with need for her. He wanted to hear her cry out his name as he buried himself in her and her fingers clawed at his hair.
It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. His want of her was an ache he felt to his bones. Turn your head. If she did, he’d kiss her like she’d never been kissed before, and then he’d ask her to be his mate.
She sat up straighter, putting room between them, and stared straight ahead. He frowned. Had he misread her signals? Mountain help him—after everything, it might be Avery and not Lachlan who was the death of him.
As twilight stretched across the fairy hill, Tàirn’s feet splashed down in the stream and they arrived at the brownie’s cottage.
Xavier dismounted and helped Avery down. “I need to tend to the cow. The brownie will want his bowl of cream, and we donna want a hungry brownie on our hands.”
She nodded once and avoided his eyes as she slipped into the cottage.
Avery waited by the fire for Xavier to return from the barn, but it was well past dark before he finally entered the cottage, and she didn’t think milking the cow or feeding the brownie could account for his delay. Still, she was too much of a coward to ask what he’d been doing. More than likely he’d been avoiding her since things had become awkward. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, but acting on those feelings would be a disaster. The mixed signals she was putting off must have made him uncomfortable.
She sipped her tea, which she’d laced with a fair amount of whisky, and watched the flames dance across the logs on the grate.
“I thought ye’d be asleep by now. I hope ye did not wait up for me.”
She glanced in his direction. “Actually, I did. I thought I would take the floor tonight. You can have the bed.”
He grunted and gave his head a firm shake. “No.”
“It’s only fair. We can alternate.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldna rest knowing ye’re out here.”
She gave him a heated stare. “Why? Because I’m a woman?”
He jerked back as if surprised by her ire. “Nay. Because I’m a dragon. I don’t get cold. The floor is as soft as a bed to my flesh, and if the fire sparks it will not burn me.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t argue with that logic, but she frowned and poured more whisky into her cup from the bottle beside her. She drank it down.
“Whit’s wrong, Avery? Does it anger ye that I sleep on the floor?”
She turned to him, her head swimming with the effects of the whisky. “No. But I think you like being the hero. You probably want a woman who is helpless. Someone you have to save every other day. Someone who cooks and cleans and lets you do all the dirty work… Pops out babies like a salad shooter.”
“Whit’s a salad shooter?”
“Never mind.” She waved a hand and drank more whisky.
“I donna want a helpless woman.”
She scoffed, swaying where she sat. “Oh sure, a Highlander whose life has been suspended in 1745 Scotland for a few hundred years must be a feminist.” She belched toward the fire.
He flashed her his famous crooked smile and rounded the bench to sit beside her. “I had a helpless wife once, but I dinna love her. She’d ha’ these fits where she thought insects were swarmin’ her skin or the wee folk were tryin’ to kill her. I cared for her and did ma best to keep her well, but it was not a good feelin’ when I found her dead. I wasna able to save Jane, and I would ne’er volunteer to be responsible for someone like her again.”
“I’m sorry, Xavier.” Avery shook her head. What a stupid comment to make considering his past.
“No, if I ever married again, I’d prefer a warrior. I reckon it’s exhausting saving someone all the time. I’d much rather take turns. It seems I’ve needed my own saving now and again.”
She turned her head and was surprised to find him staring at her through a fringe of deliciously long lashes. His eyes moved to her lips, and he leaned in. Would he kiss her? God, she wanted him to. Her entire body tingled with the desire to feel his full lips on her own.
The warmth of his breath brushed her lips and sent a rush of heat pulsing through her veins that dwarfed the effects of the whisky. She inched forward and pressed her mouth fully to his, reveling in the soft, wet heat. From the day they’d arrived and he’d started the fire with nothing but his internal flame, she’d wondered at the temperature of his mouth. She wasn’t disappointed. Her heart thudded ferociously at the feeling, racing as if she were drinking lightning. Her stomach clenched.
His fingers threaded in the hair at the nape of her neck, and she tilted her head to allow the kiss to go deeper, preparing herself for pure bliss. If she allowed this to continue, she would dive into him, straight to the bottom, and she wasn’t at all sure she’d ever break the surface again.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she spotted Fairy Killer on the table. They had the sword. Xavier would soon use it to slay Lachlan, which meant her time here would soon be over. Everything would change. He’d come back to Mistwood with her, and then…
With all the strength she had left, she pulled away. Her head was spinning. “Wait, there’s something I need to know.”
“Anything,” he said in a voice lined with cinders.
“After you kill Lachlan and take back Castle Dunchridhe, what happens then?”
“I’ll need to set things right, ye ken. Fix what Lachlan has broken.”
How long would that take? “And then?”
“I promised ye that I would return to Mistwood to speak with my siblings and discuss their issues with Paragon. I plan to keep that promise. I won’t leave ye to make excuses for me to Nathaniel.”
“Their issues? Don’t you mean your issues? It’s your mother on the throne.”
“’Tis not my war, Avery.”
She backed up a step. “You don’t plan to help them at all, do you? You’ll meet with them because you owe them that much for sending me, but you have no intention of helping them oust Eleanor.”
He stared at the fire. “My people are here.”
“But what about… your family?” She’d almost said, what about me? But that would be silly. None of this was about her.
“I wish them the best of luck if they think Paragon is worth saving,” he said coolly.
Avery suddenly felt a little nauseated. She nodded slowly, then set her cup down. “I think I’ve had too much whisky.” She stood and moved toward her room. “Good night, Xavier.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Xavier slept fitfully that night. It was clear Avery did not approve of his ambivalence about Paragon. It was possible he’d misled her, although that hadn’t been his intention. Had she assumed he’d run headfirst into a war for Gabriel’s benefit? O
f course she had; her sister was his brother’s mate. Which gave Xavier another reason to deny his dragon’s desire to bond with Avery. He had to stay strong while she was here. She’d be back in her world soon enough, and the temptation would be gone.
He was relieved when the sun rose. Unfortunately, any plans he had to advance his cause against Lachlan ended with a clap of thunder and the sound of rain against the roof.
Avery wandered from her room, rubbing her eyes. “Why didn’t anyone tell me Scottish whisky was the devil?”
He grinned. “Weel, they say the devil was once an angel. Ye’ve had yerself a slice of heaven.”
She laughed, then winced as if the sound hurt her head. Lowering herself into a chair at the table, she poured herself a cup of tea. Thanks to the brownie’s magic, breakfast was already there on a tray beside the sword.
When her eyes refused to meet his, he wondered if he’d have to address the kiss and their conversation the night before. There was so much unsaid between them. So much at risk if they gave in to the attraction that even now prompted him to move closer to her.
“I thought you’d be scoping out the castle today, planning your attack.” Avery’s comment sliced through the thick silence, and relief washed over him.
“Canna in the rain. ’Tis a shortcoming of invisibility.”
“Oh?”
He blinked out of sight, then opened the door and stepped out into the drizzle. She watched as the water made his form glisten.
“Weird. You’re like a reflective ghost.”
“Aye.”
He stepped up on the porch and shook the rain from his shoulders. She smiled at him from the door, and the temptation to kiss her again was almost more than he could bear.
He lowered his gaze and took a step back. “I should tend to the cow. The brownie will want his breakfast.”
He was halfway to the barn when he realized she was behind him.
“Aren’t ye hungry?” he asked her. “Ye can stay if ye like. Out of the rain.” He eyed the stormy sky warily.
“I want to help you milk the cow.” She hastened and ducked into the barn, which was when he noticed she’d taken Fairy Killer from the table and was wearing it on her back.
“Am I ever goin’ ta pry that sword out of yer hands?”
“No. I’m going to start sleeping with it.”
“Lucky sword.” He gave her a roguish grin and was rewarded with a slight blush of her cheek. He wasn’t sure why Avery was drawn to the sword as she was, but until he needed it, he’d let her have her way. It seemed to make her happy. “I’ll eventually need it to slay Lachlan, ye ken.”
She shook her head. “I like it too much. You’ll just have to swing me at him while I hold the sword.” Her eyes twinkled in the dark stable.
“Now ye sound even more like a curaidh.”
“I’m not sure I’d call myself a warrior. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to let the one weapon that can kill Lachlan out of our sight.”
Now that she put it that way, he agreed with the wisdom of it. He told her so as he passed her to get to Tàirn’s stall and scoop a heap of oats into his trough.
“Why do you call him Tàirn? Doesn’t that mean nail in Gaelic? Odd name for a horse.”
“Aye, but he is a nail. He’s the color of one, as black as wrought iron, but he also performs like one. Cuts right through the hardest wind and the steepest terrain. Drives fast like he’s been pounded in with a hammer.”
“I stand corrected.” Avery tilted her head, a faraway look in her eyes. “We should have given the brownie a name. Calling him ‘the brownie’ seems rude. It would be like me calling you ‘the dragon’ or you calling me ‘the human.’”
“But he doesna speak. We canna simply name him like a dog. How would ye like it if I started calling you Mary simply because I couldna speak your language?”
“Right. That is true.” She shrugged.
He finished with the horse and then led her to the next stall, where he kept the cow. He pulled up a stool and a bucket.
“Ye donna have to stay and help,” he said. “Don’t ye have female things ta do?”
She laughed. “Like what?”
He shrugged. “Things women do!”
“No, I want you to show me how to milk her.”
He grunted and made a face. “Ye donna ken how ta milk a cow?”
“Not a clue. And who would feed the brownie if you suffered a sudden bout of hand cramps?” She crossed her arms.
Standing, he pointed at the stool. “Weel, have a go at it.”
She sat down on the stool beside him, gently chewing her bottom lip. Xavier raised an eyebrow as she stared at the bloated udder in front of her. The cow looked at her, its mouth full of hay, as if to express sincere reservations about her abilities. It stomped its feet.
“Relax, old girl,” she said. “We’ll get through this together.”
“Now, take hold of two teats and pinch.”
She tugged the teats straight down. The cow mooed.
“Nay. Not that way.” It was too hard to describe with words. He squatted behind her, wrapped his hand around hers, and showed her.
“Oh! Like squeezing out toothpaste.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but he grunted approvingly anyway. Her fist rhythmically relaxed and tightened, and milk squirted into the bucket. She squealed with pride and delight.
Her hand was warm and soft inside his. Clearly she no longer needed his help, but he was reluctant to move away. He inhaled the clean wisteria scent of her hair before forcing his inner dragon down within him. He slowly pulled away from her, his breathing heavy.
“You have it. As good as any milkmaid,” he murmured.
She glanced at him over her shoulder as she worked. “Now that we have the sword, what’s your plan for using it?”
“Hadna got as far as a plan. I think though, the key is the element of surprise. I’ll take the sword, make myself invisible, creep up on Lachlan, and behead him.”
“What if he recognizes your scent?”
“There is that chance. Fairies have a keen sense of smell and can penetrate the minds of the humans around them. It will be difficult.”
“You’ll need a distraction. I’ll go with you. I’ll cover myself in something, fish or…” She eyed the cow. “…dung if I have to. Anything to mask your smell. I’ll say I was captured and tortured by you and have information about your whereabouts. They’ll take me to Lachlan where you, invisible behind me, will strike.”
“No.”
“Why? It’s a good plan. We should do it.”
“Too dangerous. He might kill ye on the spot. He knows ye helped me. I reckon Lachlan is as confused as I am about how ye made it happen. He’ll likely kill ye out of fear of ye if not for any other reason.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
“I’m not.”
The barn grew quiet aside from the sound of the milk spraying the side of the pail. He watched her, bewitched. Avery Tanglewood had to be a witch; she had enchanted his soul. Mountain help him.
“Avery,” he said softly, “ye told me before ye werena spoken for in yer world.”
“Spoken for… You mean married or have a boyfriend?”
He nodded. “Aye.”
She flashed him an impish grin over her shoulder. “No, I’m not spoken for. Why? You interested in the job?” She bobbed her eyebrows.
He stared at her, wondering what the outside world must be like to create a woman with fire in her soul like her. The mischievous spark in her eyes reminded him of lightning in a summer sky. “Aye. I am.”
The sound of milk hitting the side of the bucket stopped, and her smile slowly faded. Her gaze drifted to his lips. His dragon rose to the surface, just under his skin. He was all need and desire as he crouched to take her face in his hands, feathered his thumb across her jaw, and kissed her.
Although Xavier moved toward her slowly and gently, crouching to reach her lips as she sat on t
he stool, she met him halfway. Their lips collided with an intensity she wasn’t expecting, and he absorbed the momentum. His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her.
Last night’s kiss had been good, but this one rocked her world. There was something raw and feral about it, as if he couldn’t help himself. Neither could she. She knew now that whatever this was between them was short-lived. This kiss was a flirt with heartache and she didn’t care. She just wanted more.
A crack of thunder rattled the walls, and Avery heard the rain fall against the roof. Petrichor and the scent of green grass filled her nose. It was impossible to separate what was the storm and what was him. A shiver of intense feminine desire tingled through her veins. She wanted him, and it had been a long time since she’d wanted any man. More importantly, she wanted. After years of everything feeling gray, he was like a roaring storm of color and light. He was just so good—loyal, strong, honorable, worthy. She’d come here to find herself, and this kiss felt like waking up.
She pressed against him and tangled her fingers in his hair. His lips were soft but demanding. His tongue dipped inside her mouth, and she opened for him, welcoming the invasion. The stroking rhythm ignited a long-dormant passion. He swept her off her feet, turned her around, and pressed her back against the stable wall. A husky moan escaped her and she kissed him harder. Oh God, with his body pressed against her, she could feel him, long and hard against her lower belly.
She reached down and stroked him through his kilt. Stars above, he was massive, but then wasn’t that fitting given his general size? Even with her being above average height, she’d have to strain her neck to kiss him if he weren’t holding her up. She drove the kiss deeper. Aggressive on her part, but she was enjoying this too much to not equally participate.
The sound he made seemed to rumble through the walls. It was like a purr but richer, much bigger than his physical body. That was new. He hadn’t purred like that last night. It reminded her that she was holding a dragon in her arms, as did the fact that the temperature in the barn had risen several degrees. If they continued, would it set the hay on fire?
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