Dragon's Curse (Harlequin Nocturne)

by Lynn, Denise

  And his wayward beast had heard the increased tempo of her heart, along with the rush of blood flowing through her veins, when she lied.

  But his odd fascination went deeper than the physical. Neither he, nor his beast, should be so aware of this woman. Her scents of fear and desire shouldn’t be so easily detectable.

  But they were.

  Pheromones that were uniquely Ariel Johnson still lingered in his suddenly cramped office. His gut tightened, making him painfully aware that not only was he attuned to her emotions, he wanted more.

  He wanted to taste her lips, stroke the softness of her flesh, feel her move beneath him and hear her sigh of pleasure as it turned to cries of fulfillment.

  Muscles played across his back involuntarily. The oddly shaped birthmark on his shoulder blade burned. Cam tore his attention from the view and his thoughts from Ms. Johnson with a curse.

  What the hell was he thinking? She worked for the Learneds, making her as much an enemy as they. He couldn’t let desire and need cloud his judgment this way.

  He swung away from the window determined to rein in the growing hunger and came face-to-face with his twin.

  Braeden stared hard at him, frowning when Cam erected a wall to protect his thoughts. “The interview didn’t go well?”

  “It went fine.” Cam sat down behind his desk. Careful not to reveal too much about the interview or his unease, he said, “She starts tomorrow.”

  “She?”

  “Ariel Johnson.” He pushed her folder across the desk. “She’s too dangerous to turn down.”

  Braeden sat in one of the chairs in front of Cam’s desk. He shook his head while thumbing through the glowing references. “Dangerous? How so?” He tossed the folder back on the desk. “All I see are some overblown references.”

  “She’s our latest would-be thief at the castle.”

  Braeden’s eyebrows rose sharply. “And you didn’t think it worth mentioning before?”

  “I wanted to be certain.”

  “Why did you hire her if you knew she could prove dangerous?”

  “I’m not sure.” He paused, unwilling to divulge everything to his brother. “Something…” Cam shrugged. “I figured it would be safer if I could watch her here to see what she’s up to.”

  “Watch her?” Braeden leaned forward and, holding Cam’s gaze, he asked, “You sure there’s nothing more? Maybe another reason you want her close?”

  Uncertain how to answer that loaded question, Cam frowned. The only woman he’d ever wanted that close was gone. It was doubtful anyone could take her place.

  “Your pause says more than you think. I’ve known for a long time that you blamed yourself for Carol’s death.” He leaned back into the chair. “I just never knew why.”

  Cam absently traced the handle of the letter opener on his desk. Dragons etched on the smooth surface mocked him.

  Images of an unknown beast—part dragon, part gargoyle—swooping down from the sky to attack his wife as she looked out across a deep gorge, and Carol falling from the cliff’s edge as he watched in shocked helplessness flashed through his mind. Had he been able to awaken his dragon, Carol would still be here and these cold knots of failure and fear wouldn’t still be eating at him.

  While he could live with the failure and the fear, what he could hardly bear at times was the guilt. Guilt because he’d stood there frozen with shock. Guilt and rage because his dragon hadn’t cared enough to even blink at the threat of danger.

  He forcibly shook off the memories and answered his brother, “It’s my fault because I did nothing.”

  Instead of rehashing the argument they’d had countless times over this very topic, Braeden frowned. Finally he said, “Tell me about this Ariel Johnson.”

  “Not much to tell. She broke into the workroom at Mirabilus.”

  “And you’re certain it was her?”

  “Without a doubt. I saw her, but she…bolted when she saw me.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had bolted from the island once he’d released her.

  “How does that explain why she’s here?”

  “I think she’s related to the missing coma thief.” He explained about Ariel’s brother and the timing that made him believe the thief and brother were the same person.

  Braeden nodded in agreement. “Who’d she say her brother worked for?”

  “A Renalde.” Cam waited for Braeden’s response.

  “Renalde.” Braeden frowned before repeating, “Renalde. I can’t think of anyone with that name.”

  Cam grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Beneath the name Renalde, he wrote Learned and pushed the paper toward Braeden.

  His brother stared at it a moment before he nearly growled. “Learned.” He cursed. “Nathan. I wonder if he’s still alive.”

  “I’m sure he is. And since I sense no magic swirling around Ariel, I’m certain either he, or a member of his clan, is personally controlling her.”

  “Probably someone else under Nathan’s orders.” Braeden crumpled the paper and tossed it into the garbage. “You can’t go against them alone. I’ll call off my trip.”

  Even though he disagreed, Cam wasn’t going to argue. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I don’t need you here right now. You know they aren’t going to attack tomorrow—they can’t.”

  The spells surrounding the Lair were too powerful for the Learneds to break. If another wizard came within sight of the property uninvited, every Drake would instantly know and be ready for whatever danger presented itself.

  When Braeden remained silent, Cam asked, “Ariel was sent here for a reason, don’t you think it wise to discover it?”

  His brother nodded. “Yes, but—”

  “No.” Cam stood up. “There are no buts. Your wife is seven months along with twins. She and the babies are your main concern. I can take care of things here.”

  When a look of indecision crossed Braeden’s face, Cam said, “Go. See to Alexia. Make sure she’s safe. She’s more important than anything else, including the Lair.” To drive it home, he added, “Besides, I can contact you at will if and when I need you.”

  The door to the office opened a crack. “Are you two still in here?”

  Braeden answered his wife with an obvious lie. “No, I’m in our apartment packing.”

  He rose and looked at Cam a moment before saying, “You damn well better call if you need anything.”

  “I will. Go.”

  Cam waited for his brother to disappear before turning to once again stare out the window. He’d call Braeden only if he absolutely had to. While he didn’t expect any trouble he couldn’t handle, a part of him hoped that Ariel Johnson wouldn’t prove too easy an adversary.

  Chapter 4

  Pockets of dense fog kept Ariel alert on her drive back up to the Lair the next morning. Without warning, the road ahead would be obscured from view and then just as suddenly the fog would disappear.

  She lessened her grip on the steering wheel of her van only when the Lair came into view. But tightened it again the moment she saw Cameron Drake standing by the studded double doors.

  Ariel hadn’t expected the man to welcome her personally. She felt oddly as if a dragon was bidding her welcome to his lair as he stirred the boiling cook pot.

  She threw the van in Park, fighting to calm her overwrought nerves and overactive imagination. While she knew that danger resided here, she doubted if anyone, or anything, was actually waiting to
use her as the prime ingredient for a stew.

  Cameron opened her door. “Good morning. Have you had breakfast yet?”

  Ariel couldn’t help herself, she gasped at what she hoped was an innocent question.

  His eyebrows rose briefly at her response. Before he could say anything, she quickly swung out of the van, stumbled and ended up against the solid plane of his chest.

  Cameron grasped her shoulders. “Steady there.”

  The touch of his hand lingered, sending a frisson of awareness through her. When she glanced up to apologize, the vision of him lowering his mouth to hers sent a rush of blood to her head.

  She swayed against him and swore she felt him gather her close before he stepped back, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Ariel shook the strange imaginings from her mind. “Yes, fine, thanks. I just moved too fast, I guess.”

  “You need breakfast.”

  “No, not really.” She shook her head as the thought of food made her stomach knot. “But some coffee would be wonderful.”

  “We’ve got plenty.” Cam followed her to the rear of the van. “Let me help with your things, then I’ll show you where we hide the java.”

  When he grabbed her old battered briefcase, she held her breath, praying the latches didn’t decide now would be a good time to give out.

  She choked back a sigh of relief when he handed her the satchel intact. The last thing she needed was to have her new boss see all her notes and research on basic gardening. She feared this game of charades would be up before they played the first round.

  “Morning, Ms. Johnson.”

  Ariel turned to see an elderly white-haired man approach pushing a baggage cart.

  “Good morning…”

  “Harold.” Cam supplied the name, adding, “Harold is the lifeline that holds this place together.”

  The older man snorted. “Just the general maintenance man.” He started unloading her suitcases. “I help out where I can.”

  Cameron piled the last bag onto the cart and shut the van’s doors. “Watch him, Ariel, when he starts in with the modest act, he’s out for something.”

  Harold chortled. “A day off would be nice.”

  “You had one last year.”

  “Oh, yes, I suppose an extra day off every hundred and fifty years is asking a bit much.” Cameron frowned as the older man winked at her. “A bunch of slave drivers is what these Drakes are.”

  Ariel laughed at the man’s joke, hoping the tremor of nervousness wasn’t too apparent. “I’ll keep that in mind, Harold.”

  “If there’s anything you need, miss, you just holler and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, I’ll do that. Please, call me Ariel.”

  She and Cameron followed Harold into the Lair. Once in the lobby, Jennie, the receptionist she’d met yesterday, called out, “Mr. Drake, a moment, please.”

  After Harold sauntered off with the baggage cart, Cameron excused himself, giving Ariel time to collect herself and to survey her surroundings. She’d noticed yesterday that the floor was planked wood made to look old with scuffs, knots and faded spots here and there.

  Suits of chain mail and plate armor flanked the arched stone doorways. Shields and ancient weapons mounted on the walls, along with iron wall sconces, made the lobby look like a great hall in a medieval castle.

  An appropriate setting for a place called Dragon’s Lair, she guessed. Unfortunately, all her research on commercial gardening covered tropical-type gardens. She doubted if something like that would fit into this decor.

  Now what would she do? Panic wormed its way into her head. If she couldn’t come up with something, he’d realize she had no experience for this job whatsoever. The cold dread only increased when Cameron returned with an odd expression on his face.

  “All the completed apartments in the employee wing are occupied.”

  The panic escalated. Where would she stay? Mr. Renalde had already told her that even though it would be impossible for him to communicate with her while she was on the Drakes’ property, it was the perfect option. He wanted her close—and this would keep her as close to the Drakes as possible.

  His being unable to communicate with her had seemed a blessing until he’d added that if she didn’t check in with him at her appointed times, meaning she’d have to find excuses to leave the grounds, her brother’s life would be forfeited.

  What would Renalde do when he discovered she wasn’t going to be living at the Lair?

  Cameron’s expression lighted. “No problem. For now, we’ll put you in the family wing.”

  Ariel blinked. “Family wing?” Something about the idea of living so close to him and his family didn’t seem right—or safe. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “The fog settles in without warning. I won’t have you driving up and down the mountain every day. There are plenty of rooms. We’ll put you in a suite at the other end of the floor for your privacy.”

  She followed him to the far side of the lobby. A mural of a dragon battling with a knight covered the expanse of the wall. Were it not for the floor indicator above a barely perceptible seam in the mural, she wouldn’t have realized there was an elevator behind the painting.

  No matter how beautiful the painting, she couldn’t help noticing that everywhere she looked, she saw dragons. Ariel shivered, wondering if this was an omen, or simply a manifestation of her worried mind.

  The elevator doors whooshed closed behind them, increasing Ariel’s feeling of unease. She moved to a far back corner, suddenly certain that moving to the Lair had been a very bad idea.

  As Cameron turned toward her, his cell rang and he moved to the opposite corner to take the call.

  His voice was too low, his one-word responses too brief for her to make any sense of his conversation, giving Ariel more time to ponder her situation.

  Her knowledge of the Drakes was limited. The only information she had about them came from Mr. Renalde.

  At first she’d thought the Drakes simply possessed items Renalde wanted—the dragon pendant and the puzzle box. But after meeting with him yesterday, Ariel realized he viewed them as something more than just a mark he wanted to rob. The Drakes were his enemy.

  It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he’d said it. When he’d given her his final orders, he’d half whispered something about making the Drakes suffer a very long and painful death.

  What would she do if Renalde dropped the matter of their deaths into her hands? Stealing was one thing. Murder was another story entirely.

  The Drakes had done nothing to her, or Carl. They were her enemies only because they stood in the way of gaining the items she needed to give to Renalde. She wasn’t going to be responsible for their deaths.

  Besides, she couldn’t. The mere thought of killing something or someone was so abhorrent that it wasn’t even a consideration. That was something Renalde would have to do himself.

  But he’d stated that he couldn’t come onto the Drakes’ property. She didn’t know why, but she hoped that was true. Perhaps then he would never get the opportunity to do them physical harm while she was present.

  Just as the elevator stopped and the doors parted, Cameron laughed.

  The hairs on the back of Ariel’s neck rose as she recognized the same deep laugh that had followed her escape from the chamber at Mirabilus. She stared at her new boss, clenching her hands into fists, trying to fight back the terror clawing at
her chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone scream in fear.

  Cameron clicked his cell off and then turned to Ariel. “I’ll show you to your…” He paused, frowning. The woman was pale—far too pale. Her eyes were huge, her hands clenched as she mutely stared at him.

  Even though the elevator had stopped and the doors were open, she seemed frozen to the back wall. “Ariel?”

  He reached toward her, pulling his hand back when she jerked away from his touch.

  He ignored the urge to dip into Ariel’s thoughts, relying instead on her body language and what he could sense. The closer he got to her, the more she seemed to shrink into herself.

  He’d obviously done something to frighten her. The sharp scent of pure fear swirled from her to fill the elevator and Cam frowned at the sharpness of the icy chill in the air surrounding them.

  Standing in the elevator wasn’t going to get them anywhere, so he reached a hand toward her. “Ariel?”

  She jerked away with a gasp.

  Determined to banish her terror and get to the bottom of the cause, Cam swept her from her feet and into his arms.

  Ariel’s eyes widened farther, she opened her mouth as if to scream and promptly passed out.

  Cameron’s emphatic curse brought his brother Sean into the hall. He looked at the woman in Cam’s arms then said, “We really need to work on your method of picking up dates.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “Don’t you think the conversation’s going to be a bit one-sided?”

  “Shut up and open my door.” Cam added, “The key is in my pocket.”

  Sean dug the key card from Cam’s jacket pocket as they headed down the hall. Opening the door, he asked, “So, who’s the unfortunate lady?”

  “The new gardener.” Before Sean could voice anything else, Cam kicked the door shut in his brother’s face.

  At a loss, Cam stood in the small foyer. Now what? If he took her to a bedroom and she woke up there, it was a safe bet she’d misconstrue his intentions.