SOUTHERN
FRIED
DRAGON
A Civil War romance
with a Scottish
paranormal twist
by Nancy Lee Badger
***Caution: contains explicit sexual situations***
Cover illustration copyright © 2013
www.ThinkFlowDesign.com
Copyright © September 2012 by Nancy Lee Badger
*revised edition © March 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information
storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Dedication
To those who put on a uniform, not knowing what the future might bring. I salute you all.
Welcome to the novels of
Nancy Lee Badger
- Southern Fried Dragon: Nancy Lee Badger is a keen storyteller who draws you in and keeps you reading until you get to the happily-ever-after. —Jan Romes
-My Banished Highlander : I am addicted to highlander stories and this book did not disappoint me.—Terry Spear
- My Honorable Highlander was a great read and I totally look forward to Iona and Cameron’s story in the next book of the series. —Shelly at Dark Diva’s Reviews
- Love To The Rescue: Nancy's writing style is edgy, provocative and realistic. The fire and rescue scenes were spot on. —BabsBookBistro
- Destiny’s Mountain: Nancy skillfully paints a portrait where the reader can envisage the beautiful scenery… with a great display of action, romance, suspense and wonderful chemistry,
this story is indeed awesome. —The Romance Studio
- Dragon In The Mist: A 2012 Reader’s Choice Award. Winner/1 Place in its category in the
Silken Sands Self-Published STARS Contest. —Gulf Coast RWA
- Unwrapping Chris: This is a must read… I love all of Nancy's books… You will not be disappointed in this book. —BabsBookBistro
- Dragon’s Curse: Wow! This was a historical with a delicious paranormal twist… wild animals,
a shipwreck, a witch, and ghosts. I loved it! —Mickey
- Secret Love Match: This book has everything you would want: romance, a little mystery, suspense, and thrills… delightful book. —Barbara Hightower
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 1
Charleston Harbor, South Carolina
December 1860
The men were on her in a heartbeat. They groped, pawed, and mumbled filthy words, expecting Dru Little to welcome their company. Blazes. Just my luck. A trio of smelly, drunken seamen had wandered down the alley behind the inn, moments after she’d stepped outside. How careless to lose awareness of her surroundings simply fetching a bag of flour. Even with her supernatural senses, she’d smelled liquor-tainted breath and soured uniforms too late to avoid the attack.
When a large meaty fist squeezed a breast, she hissed. The hand disappeared, but returned quickly. Her attention swung to another man who yanked the hem of her dress above her knees. She squirmed as she gathered strength to hold her nature at bay. Dru kicked until her booted foot met bone. A dark shape dropped to the dirt.
“Bitch.”
Dru smiled. Her tongue licked the tips of her lengthening fangs still hidden from her assailants. A third man stepped back, his eyes wide.
Maybe, not so hidden.
The sudden splitting of thin human skin tore a scream from her dry throat. The pain increased each time her talons escaped from beneath her human fingernails.
She grabbed the hand on her breast and squeezed. Its owner howled as the tips of her claws sunk into his flesh.
The satisfaction was short-lived. The man she’d kicked had jumped to his feet only to lunge at her with murder reflected in his lamp-lit eyes. Two filthy hands with calloused fingers encircled her neck before she could take a deep enough breath to summon a ball of flame. A suffocating near-silence, peppered with grunts, enveloped Dru as they pulled her to the ground.
How sad to die in human form. How inexcusable to not have torn the men to pieces before they’d gotten the best of her inner dragon.
“Who goes there?” A deep voice split the night, and heavy footsteps grew close. A man raced toward them through the darkness. His blue uniform screamed authority. His outraged yell made her attackers pause. When he brandished what she assumed was a sword, the drunks scattered like rats.
Two tripped over each other, then scrambled to their feet, while the stranger’s weapon swooped and slashed. Oddly, Dru’s superior senses did not smell blood. The alley’s rancid odor made her sneeze, which garnered her savior’s attention.
Dru retracted her talons, sat up, and fussed with her hair. The bun she wore while working, required by her employer, had come undone during the drunkards’ attack. She had felt no fear.
I am a dragon.
The scoundrels should thank their lucky stars the soldier’s appearance halted her transformation, or they might have found themselves her late night snack.
When the tall shadow moved and crossed the dark alley to stop in front of her, she smelled the sea. Wild, fresh, and sexy. It enveloped him, a more pleasant smell than the stench of the alley and the three drunkards. He offered his hand.
The hand not holding the weapon. Dru accepted it, now that her fingers had returned to normal. Normal for her human persona, anyway.
The moment they touched, a spark tingled and raced up her arm despite the fact her savior wore gloves. His eyes widened. Had he felt it, too?
He released her and stepped back, then saluted her with his weapon. Dru laughed, the light-hearted and improper sound a welcome change from the stillness after the attack. His weapon was a long, slightly bent loaf of bread.
“Lieutenant Shaw Stenhouse, at your service, Ma’am.” Nearly breathless, he swept low in an exaggerated bow, then poked through the shadows with his boot. He scooped up the hat she’d seen fly off his head as he ran when he’d brandished his weapon.
Dru laughed again. “Pleased to meet ye, young sir. Aye, ye did those men a service.”
“Pardon?”
He ran a hand over his head, straightening his dark hair. Brown or black? Hard to tell beneath the moonlight spilling in the alley. He’d tied it back in a queue, and the piece of coarse hemp rope fluttered in the soft breeze that lacked the strength to clear the fetid smells from the dark alleyway.
Tread lightly with this one, she thought.
“I gave as good as I got, sir. They earned a few well-placed bruises this night. I wanted to inflict more, ‘tis all.”
He laughed. The low rumble made goose bumps pop along her forearms. Heat spread deep inside her womb. How odd. No human male had ever caused such a reaction, but this male smelled good and was very pleasing to the eye.
She moved several steps back toward the inn’s kitchen door. He followed, still smiling. Candlelight seeped from the kitchen and rewarded
Dru with a glimpse of a deep-set pair of sparkling gray eyes.
By his nervous shuffle and backward glances, Dru sensed he had somewhere else to be. He’d run to her rescue, and she should thank him with more than a few words.
The thought made her lips tremble, itching to taste him. Not as dinner, of course, but as the human male standing before her. When he gazed down at his feet, then back at her mouth, she’d smiled. The weird longing to kiss him senseless was out-of-place in their situation. She planned to pass through this human existence until something better came along. Dru had no need for sexual entanglements.
Not tonight, anyway.
“I feel I’m a’keepin’ ye from yer duties, sir.”
“If they come back—”
“Fear not, sir. I will not remain outside this night. Where are ye’ headed?”
“Across the harbor, to Fort Moultrie. I am part of the 1 U. S. Artillery regiment. I travel by boat once a week to the Charleston docks for supplies.” He turned and gazed toward the end of the alley facing the harbor. “My men are waiting…”
When he turned back to face her, Dru tossed her loosened hair over one shoulder and couldn’t help giggling when his eyes tracked the movement. “Maggie needs this flour.”
“Maggie?” he croaked, as he stepped closer.
The young man sounded like he needed a stiff drink. Too bad the inn’s dining hall had closed for the night. His scent washed over her anew. Salt, sea, and male. Human male, a new scent she was beginning to like. “Maggie is the cook. I help her, and serve in here.”
Lieutenant Stenhouse’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen door, only now seeming to realize where they stood. The small amount of light that filtered into the alley from the kitchen bathed them in its glow. His attention returned to her mouth.
Would he kiss her?
Such a silly thought, Dru.
However, when his head bent low and he brushed his warm lips across her mouth, Dru’s knees wobbled. Strong hands clasped her waist as butterflies filled her stomach. The brief touch, quickly over, stirred her with a longing for more.
Dru sensed his retreat.
Blazes!
When had she closed her eyes? Tossing away all shyness, her hands circled his neck then drew his head down. She kissed him. Hard.
Her strength kept him captive, yet he did not fight for release. His arms encircled her, and pulled her close. Her breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest. Brass buttons pinched her sensitive breasts while the smell of damp wool flooded her nostrils. His lips were softer than she’d expected, and he tasted indescribably delicious. Fire stirred inside her veins as her blood heated. The unexpected pleasure of their joining made her heart soar.
I am flying without wings.
His breath, when he pulled back, caressed the moist skin of her upper lip. When she moaned, he returned to join his mouth to hers. His tongue slid against the crease between her lips and she gasped at the sensation. When it slipped inside, her entire body hummed. Concentrating, she kept her fangs at bay and her talons retracted.
The effort gave her little time to comprehend the sensations spreading over her, nor the heady desire clenching deep inside her human body’s core.
Delicate tingles raced from her toes to her fingers, shocking everything in between with an urge to make love, here and now. Kissing a human male definitely had its high points.
“Dru Little! Where be ye, girl? I need that flour.”
Dru and the lieutenant jumped apart as if scorched by flames. The heat from his body still burned deep inside to tease her mystical soul, and not with dragon’s breath. She immediately missed his touch and taste.
“I’m coming,” she shouted toward the door.
The man’s left eyebrow rose, and heat swept across her chest and cheeks. She threw a quick glance at the kitchen door, thankful that Maggie had not come out to investigate.
Dru grabbed the heavy bag of flour and hoisted it onto a shoulder. She faked an unladylike grunt to keep her secret, since dragon strength made her inhumanly strong. As she pretended to toil with her burden, Shaw lifted the bag from her and placed it on one of his broad shoulders.
“Allow me.”
Hiding her smile, Dru held the kitchen door open, then followed him in. The surprised look on Maggie’s face was priceless.
“What’s this? I send ye outside for flour and ye come back with…”
“Maggie, this is Lieutenant Stenhouse. Lieutenant, this is Maggie MacDonald. We met, accidently, in the alley.”
“Lieutenant,” Maggie said with a small curtsy.
“Ma’am. Where do ye want this bag?” he grunted.
Dru pointed to a storage bin below the table and the two of them worked together to empty the contents. When he stood, Dru brushed flour from his lapel. Shaw tipped his hat at Maggie, then followed as Dru headed out into the alley.
“And, yer name, lass?” he asked, once they stood alone in the alley.
“Ye sound as Scottish as myself, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, though born in New York, I grew up around my immigrant parents’ accents. I seem to fall into it when excited.”
“Hmm. Yer excited?” She smiled, knowing she’d added a wicked grin with her words. In the dim light from the open kitchen door, a blush rose up his chiseled cheekbones. Dru licked her lips, and waited.
He moaned as he stared at her mouth. Were her fangs showing? She rolled her tongue along her human teeth, but her fangs had not dropped. Then she recalled how their tongues had danced inside her mouth.
Dru shivered.
“Are ye cold? Ye should go inside.” The soldier’s eyes drifted down. His boots glistened with dew. When had it started to drizzle? Now attentive, she sensed a hard rain threatened. She might have to postpone her nightly hunt. One of Maggie’s raw chickens would do until tomorrow.
“What I meant to say is, when in a battle or when saving a beautiful young woman from a band of ruffians, I slip back into a Scottish burr.”
“I’m not complaining, Lieutenant,” Dru said. She stroked his stubbly cheek and smiled wide. “I must return to my duties.”
As she turned to mount the steps into the kitchen, Shaw pulled her into his arms. His mouth found hers and her hands slipped up and over his shoulders. She circled his neck with tingling fingers, reveling in the silky softness of his queue. When they had stepped inside the kitchen, the lamps revealed his hair to be as dark brown as coarse cinnamon and his eyes the gray of winter clouds.
He backed her against a shadowy wall and pressed against her, returning her attention to his rock-hard body. The swift surge of passion thrilled her with the power their shared kiss conjured. The second kiss was a joy-filled surprise that swiftly turned into a carnal promise of things to come.
With her fingers entangled in his silky locks, she wiggled her hips, yearning to get closer. He groaned, and pressed her between the hard planks of the wall and the steel planes of his chest. His tongue slid across her lips until she opened beneath his touch, welcoming him inside. She now knew what to expect. She now craved his intimate strokes within the sensitive curve of her mouth.
Prickles of desire brought a moan from deep within her throat, and the pleasure dampened the secret area between her legs. She never would have believed the fire inside could flame even brighter. She yearned for more.
Much more.
When he broke the kiss, Dru cried out with disappointment.
“I should not keep taking advantage, Miss…you neglected to share your name.”
She laughed. Yes, she’d forgotten he’d asked, as any human male would. Names were a big thing between humans. Saddled by the name of the woman whose life she’d overtaken, she had nothing to hide. As time wore on, she’d grown to like it.
“Dru Little.”
He smiled and bowed at the waist, picked up his bent loaf of bread and stepped back. “I must leave ye, now.”
“Getting back to Fort Moultrie?”
He nodded while his thum
b wiped a raindrop from her cheek. “I will return in a week, at a more appropriate hour. Goodnight, Miss Little.”
As he retreated into the dark, she glared at his back. Why did he have to leave now? Kissing him could lead to a variety of pleasurable things and she desperately wanted to experience them. Her human body reacted uniquely different from her scaled dragon form, but he spoke the truth. No normal human woman would make love to a man she just met.
What was I thinking?
* * * * *
Shaw exited the alley and headed toward the pier where his men had tied the small boat. He smiled like a love-struck fool when he realized he whistled as he strode along. His light steps and tight breeches were due to thoughts filled with Miss Dru Little. She tasted like sugar and cinnamon and smelled like almonds. Her plain, serviceable dress and stained apron could not hide her delectable curves.
His steps faltered when the memory of her surrounded by three men flashed through his eyes. Fear and apprehension stirred him to run toward them when she had screamed, and him without his sidearm. A momentary lapse he would not repeat. He dare not return to Charleston without it.
She’d given her assailants their own bruises, but they’d had her on the ground. What if he'd walked by five minutes later?
“Lieutenant! You’re late.”
Shaw’s attention snapped back to the corporal below him, sitting inside the skiff with a few other soldiers. The men had stacked boxes of vegetables and bags of flour and sugar at their feet. Shaw tossed the bread to the corporal. The man grinned at the bent and ruined loaf, now soggy with dew.
“Trouble, sir?”
“Aye, but all is well.”
“Do tell.”
“I came to the aid of a lady in distress.”
“And? Did she reward you handsomely?” The corporal’s eyebrows arched, and he rubbed a hand between his legs.
“Yes, Miss Little’s kisses were generous.” The words tumbled from his mouth before the guilt washed over him. The guilt of sharing his moment with Miss Little. “Let’s get back to the fort. I am wide awake, but this sea air will put me out soon enough.”
Southern Fried Dragon Page 1