“Blackie?” Fiona asked, waving her good hand in front of his face, “Where be Gow? Where be your wife?”
When he shook his head, as if coming out of a trance, and glanced from Isobel to her, he straightened and pointed to the stairs toward the back door. “Me missus took him to a room. Dougal and Orin’s room, I believe. Fiona! Your hand!”
He’d noticed the bubbling flesh. It hurt worse than anything she’d ever experienced. When Isobel wrapped her delicate fingers around Fiona’s upper arm, tugging her to the stairs, Fiona coughed, but followed, until they stopped at the landing. “Which door?”
Fiona had to think a moment. She’d never entered Dougal’s bedchamber. Would she, if he had asked her to join him there? Then she remembered he’d mentioned he shared a chamber with Vika’s brother. Dougal claimed he was the warrior in their odd little group, and said he had no plans to sleep while danger lurked. That he’d left the village to follow and save her life meant something, but she most likely reminded him of Cliona. She sniffed, and followed Dougal’s scent. He must have left some belongings in the chamber. “Here.”
Isobel pushed open the door, only to interrupt Orin. He stood with his mouth agape, wearing only his boots, with a damp cloth in one hand.
“Why didn’t you knock?”
“Never you mind. I be enjoying the view,” Isobel said, grinning.
Fiona gasped. Isobel was small in stature, but big in courage, to face such an ornery lad in the middle of bathing. Fiona bit the inside of her human cheek to keep from laughing, and pushed past Isobel.
“Isobel, leave him be. This be Orin, a friend.” She coughed again, and a wave of weariness stole more of her breath. Smoke had filled her lungs with its caustic fingers, and her palm burned. She sighed, leaning back against the chamber wall. All she wanted was to soothe the burn, and forget all about men and their devious natures.
“I be glad to meet you, lass. Can you allow me to finish dressing?” Orin pointed toward the door, while holding his cloth in front of his lower half.
“Aye. Come, Isobel.” Fiona returned to the hall, and glanced toward the stairs. Dougal stood with arms crossed, and feet spread. He glared at her for a moment, before his eyes turned warm and smoky. His expression gave her hope.
“I sense a rivalry for your affections, lass,” Isobel whispered.
“What? Nay, Orin be but a lad, and a friend. And Dougal be…” Even as she shook her head, Fiona wondered what it would be like to be fought over by two males. She’d watched stags in the wild fight with antlers and hooves. Hadn’t Dougal and Grady battled near the fairy pool? Over what? The right to mate with her, or to claim her as their mate for life?
Orin wasn’t Grady, but Grady could still be nearby. Should she leave the village, and trot away with a shifter like her own kind? As the thoughts dueled in her head, she wanted to confront Dougal. Before she could say anything, she noticed the open door beside him. The chamber belonged to his golden-haired brother and mate. Gow, with Mistress MacFingan at his side, sat on the edge of the bed. His head was cupped in one hand, and he’d propped an elbow on his knee. She pitied him, especially when news of his shop made it to his ears.
Coughing several times, Fiona struggled to take in air as deep as she could, then walked into the bedchamber. Ignoring Dougal proved difficult, and she wasn’t surprised when he followed behind her. The bedchamber was suddenly too small. Isobel stayed in the open doorway, looking a bit lost. She’d saved Fiona’s life, and claimed Gow as kin, so why didn’t she walk closer?
Dougal stood beside Fiona, shoulder to shoulder. Did he expect her to acknowledge him? She assumed he wanted her only because she resembled his lost love. No one wanted her for herself.
“What be this? Why do you glare at little Fiona? And why does a pretty sea creature stand in me doorway? Come closer.”
All eyes fell on Isobel, who turned her head, as if something in the hall had gotten her attention.
The healer chuckled, then must have noticed Fiona’s hand. “Have you burned yourself? Not in me kitchen, I hope? Let me look at that.”
“Did you fall against me furnace, lass?” Gow asked, awake and lucid enough to follow the conversation.
“I fell against something, due to a man who pursued me through your shop. He wore a white headscarf. Might he be the same man who hit you?”
He shook his head, moaned from the pain, and thought better of it. “I never saw him.”
“I fear he took your weapon, the one you said you placed in the water barrel, before something caused a fire to break out.” She glanced accusingly at Dougal, whose left eyebrow rose.
Moaning, Gow went quiet.
“I have your kinswoman to thank for saving me. Isobel, here.” Fiona beckoned her to join them, as Gow blinked.
“Isobel, I be glad to see you, lass, but we agreed you’d be safer on me sister’s farm.”
“Ha!” she barked. “A deer stole me clothes, and a wolf chased me into town. As I ran, I saw pirates with weapons drawn. I do not believe your farm be the safest place on Skye.”
Dougal’s eyes narrowed, and his frown deepened. Why? Had he something to do with Isobel being chased from her home? Did he associate with a white wolf, or someone who could shift into such a beast?
She returned her attention to the blacksmith. Didn’t Gow realize danger lurked within the walls, as well?
Dougal looked at Isobel, and clasped his hands behind his back. “You shall remain in the village, until the surrounding area be deemed safe. We spotted pirates outside, and I fear others have slipped inside. A group of them were thwarted at the main gate, but a warrior was killed.”
Everyone in the room gasped, except the dragon. Dougal had spoken to Isobel, but Fiona sensed he was actually warning her.
“Aye, I have seen firsthand, as has your lass, that there be pirates inside these walls. What do you mean to do about them?” Isobel asked Dougal.
Fiona felt her cheeks heat at Isobel’s claim of her belonging to Dougal.
As the healer bandaged Fiona’s hand, she glanced at her ripped dress. “I have extra clothes you can wear. I shall bring them to you. You might like to bathe?”
“I thank you,” Fiona said.
The healer tidied up her bandages and herbs, and headed toward the hall. Pausing at the doorway, she caught everyone’s attention.
“I fear it shall take more than a few farmers to remove strangers from our village. If we do not pull together in this emergency, we might all die.”
Everyone in the bedchamber watched her leave, and silence loomed.
“Have you all been struck dumb?” Isobel finally asked, her arms crossed after stepping aside for the healer. She entered the room, glaring, and said, “and why do the words of a tavern keeper silence one and all?”
Gow stood on wobbly feet, and patted her shoulder. The compassion in his expression softened Isobel’s frown.
“Lass, Mistress MacFingan be well known for her premonitions. If she feels danger be lurking, we must honor the warning. Dougal, can you warn everyone?”
Dougal nodded, and turned to leave the room, but Fiona stopped him with a touch. “May we talk?” He nodded again.
She walked into the hall, with Isobel at her heels. When the young lass’s stomach growled, she realized more than her own belly was as empty.
“I suggest you find some sustenance in the dining hall,” Fiona said. Dougal dug into a small leather pouch, tied to his belt, and passed Isobel several coins. Both women smiled at his generosity.
As Fiona and Dougal watched Isobel skip down the stairs, the heat radiating from his body was comforting, and she inhaled his familiar, soothing scent. Even though he smelled good enough to eat, she feared she smelled like smoldering hay. “I need a bath.”
Dougal chuckled. “Agreed. Follow me.”
He headed farther down the hall, then stopped at a closed door. He sniffed the door, then cracked it open. “In here.”
The chamber was smaller than the one they�
��d left Gow in, but the bed looked soft. Fiona’s weariness drew her to sit on the edge of the bed. Her burned palm barely ached, but her lungs heaved. Smoke had penetrated to her very core, and her clothing stank.
“Why did you sniff the door?”
“To find an empty room. Me sense of smell be not as good in this form, but good enough to find us a bit of privacy. I shall return soon. Rest.”
As she concentrated on breathing, he returned with a large wooden tub, then disappeared again. When he pushed through the door carrying four buckets of hot water, she realized she must have fallen asleep.
“Lass, you wished to talk, but also wished to bathe, aye?” Dougal walked to the window, and peeked through the heavy woolen curtain. He tossed something red up and down with his other hand, catching it with his open palm.
She stood, and sniffed the air. “Be that an apple?”
He tossed it to her, and walked back to the door. When he closed the door behind him, the soft click made her face him, while she devoured the crisp fruit. He was still dressed in his red and black plaide, but now carried a sword, and she feared he’d have need of it before the night was out.
After they talked, she would find another knife, one the kitchen wouldn’t miss, and hide it on her person. She had already hidden the trinket beneath the pillow.
Tossing the apple core out the window, she pulled the curtain closed. She walked past him and sat on the edge of the bed. “Dougal, I fear we must set aside our differences this day, in order to fight the pirates, and keep these villagers safe. Aye, most be strangers to me, but I have grown to like it here. Besides, I have nowhere else to go.”
“Grady offered you a home.” Dougal stopped in front of her, and she had to tilt her head back in order to see his face.
“Do not mention that beast to me again! He wished only to use me to satisfy an itch. Cannot you kneel? I be straining this human neck.”
“I kneel to no one!” Instead, he turned and sat beside her. “Better?”
She nodded as she inhaled his familiar masculine scent. “Have you a plan concerning the pirates?” She removed her apron, tossing it to the floor.
He gulped. “Aye. Me brothers and I have talked with the town’s elders, and the warriors guarding the gates. They be watching every section of the village walls. No one else shall enter.”
“Your words comfort me.” She tugged her footwear off, and her stockings followed.
He jumped to his feet, and paced. “In the meantime, Orin and a handful of young lads shall search for any strangers in the village.”
“Orin? He’s but a child! He might get injured!” she cried, as she untied the laces that crisscrossed her bodice.
Dougal swallowed, stepping closer. “He and the lads have strict orders to search out intruders, not to engage. His safety means much to me, and to Evan. We be family, now.”
“That reminds me. Have we any word on Vika’s progress? The hall be much too quiet.” Fiona glanced toward the chamber’s closed door, listening.
When he kept quiet, Fiona rose to her feet. She let her gown settle seductively around her bare feet. Dougal groaned.
Naked, she walked over to the small tub and stepped into the warm water. As she sank down, she glanced back at him, easily reading the yearning in his gaze.
Dougal stepped closer, clasping his hands behind his back. “I briefly talked with Evan. Vika be resting. The bairn ‘tis stubborn. I have sent Wynn to search for pirates, as well.”
Fiona recognized the worry in his furrowed brow. She had no tranquil words to calm him. She knew nothing of birthing a babe, though she yearned to be a mother. She’d spent each summer watching fawns follow their mothers through the northern meadows, but she never grew round with her own offspring. Leaving the herd was the sensible thing to do, and her quest to find her friend had been the kick in the rump she’d needed.
Her quest had ended with the news that Cliona had died. She was alone in a village full of humans, and her current body was reacting strangely to the human male who stood beside her.
“Lass, be you ill? Your face has gone pale, and your shoulders be hunched.” Dougal reached for her.
She raised her bandaged hand, keeping him from touching her. He sank to his knees beside the tub and growled, but he kept his hands away from her. She felt shy, or was it uneasiness? That a warrior, and a dragon, would kneel to her was an anomaly. Was he trying to woo her, or turn her head, and make her open to any suggestions?
Nay, any naked female might do, for a dragon with lust in his heart.
Although she wanted to make love to him, she worried she could not survive more heartbreak.
“Nay, Dougal, I be in need of clean clothes and this bath.” As she picked up a bar of soap, she couldn’t help smiling as she recalled their swim in the fairy pool, and how natural their lovemaking had felt. When the image of Dougal, bleeding from the shoulder filled her mind, she frowned.
“Your expressions change in a heartbeat, and although I love your sweet smile, I fear I be the cause of your frown.”
Dougal was a dragon, but appeared nervous. A shifter of such power, yet the scent of his human flesh stirred her soul. When his fingers traced her human jaw line, and his rough skin slid along her smoother flesh, her heart raced inside her chest.
When had he touched her? She smelled the leather of his sword’s sheath, and watched his blue eyes change to flames. She ought to finish her bath, and dress. She would gather up her skirts in her one good hand, and walk out of the chamber with her head held high.
I doubt I would ever reach the door.
CHAPTER 18
Dougal ought to march out the door and leave her to bathe in peace, but he couldn’t let her go, not like this. He couldn’t leave her with a frown on her face, and such hopelessness in her eyes. She was lovely, even in her human form, and what little he’d observed of her in her doe shape piqued his interest. He’d even taken an arrow for her. She was brave, more so than any shifter he knew, besides his brothers. She’d made the choice to risk her own life to attack the hunter, and lead Dougal to safety at the fairy pool, using its healing water to clean his wound with gentle strokes and compassionate words. The fairy pool’s water had done wonders for him.
Hadn’t the healer mentioned she wanted some of the healing water for Vika? With the pirate threat looming, how could he help the healer, while protecting his family?
“I need to leave,” he whispered, clasping Fiona’s delicate human hand. Before she could slip it free and plunge her fingers beneath the bath water, he held her firmly. Ignoring her protests, he took the bar of soap and started washing her arm. Her eyebrows rose, and her inviting lips parted. Did she realize the hunger that grew inside him for her? Did she know how her lips beckoned him, demanding that he lower his head and kiss her?
He soaped her shoulders, caressed her neck, and helped her wash and rinse her long brown hair. The room was silent except for gentle splashes and soft moans.
“I do not wish you to leave, just yet.” She leaned back, her eyes drifted closed, and her breasts rose from the water.
Dougal could not finish bathing her. Not if he wished to keep his sanity. Pulling off his clothes and joining her in the small tub was impossible, so he dropped the soap into her lap. Only then did he realize he’d fallen to his knees beside her bath. Why had he knelt?
“I kneel to no one!”
“What was that?” she said. The throaty moan accompanying her question stiffened his member, and made his talons erupt from his fingertips. Why had he knelt? She had reduced him to a subservient creature, by sharing a smile and naked flesh. It was past time to leave.
Willing his talons to retreat, he jumped up, wiped his hands on a piece of cloth, and turned toward the door. Leaving, and finding a mate who could give him offspring was imperative to save his clan. Fiona had stated she copulated with many shifters, yet produced no young. Without offspring, they had no future, but could he love another? He’d given his heart to Cliona, but
always suspected she was unfaithful. Hadn’t both Fiona and Grady hinted at that? She acted foolish, and had died for her errant choices. If he truly wanted to help his clan, he should find a mate, and create a new dragon offspring.
The problem, as it stood, was that there were no more dragon females. He thought of Kera, Wynn’s mate. She grew up a human, learned to shift into a wolf, and found out, simply by accident, that she had the ability to shift into a dragon. Could Fiona shift as Kera had? It was too soon to think about that.
The imminent birth of Vika’s bairn would prove if humans could produce dragon offspring. Kera was also expecting a babe, and the birth of Wynn’s offspring would prove a shifter could produce a dragon. Fiona was a shifter, but there was little time to ponder the question. The danger of attack by pirates, the worst of human men, spoiled everything. Evan and Wynn had charged him with keeping his family safe, and no dirty human, smelling of fish, would touch them.
Not on me watch!
“I said we needed to talk, and now we have, but leave if you must. I shall see if Unna needs me help.” Fiona stood, and wrapped a thick bath cloth around her body. Her whispered words yanked his thoughts back to the present.
The need to wrap the beautiful female in his arms weighed heavy on Dougal’s heart. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her wrists. Taking care not to put pressure on her bandaged hand, he pulled her close, and kissed her.
When she didn’t object, he wrapped an arm around her waist. The heat of her body seeped through the bath cloth, and her tantalizing aroma was as intoxicating as a dram of whisky. She didn’t protest his hold, or try to pull away. In fact, her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, and her eyelids fluttered nearly closed.
The invitation, fraught with danger, was too hard to ignore. If he followed his instincts, he’d be halfway to the fairy pool, gathering the healing waters. Instead, his body leapt to life, and he flung the bath cloth to the floor. She gasped, but said nothing, nor did she struggle. Her feminine scent drifted up, making him thirsty for more.
Smolder (Clan of Dragons Book 3) Page 16