“Drake? One of us?” Of course. He knew there were dragons in North America, many of them originally from European stock, but it was still a surprise.
“Yes. He’s married to the fairy who owns the art supply store. My cousin I-don’t-know-how-many-times removed.”
“Right. And you just guessed he was a dragon?” he asked skeptically.
Her laugh rippled out. “Of course not. I called Rosa Drake.” Lady Drake was married to the Eldest of the House of Drake. “She confirmed that Quinn belonged to the American branch of the clan. And added that he had married a fairy. I did a little research and realized I’d located some of my own people.”
She looked around the room approvingly, her gaze lingering on the big gilt-framed mirror. She looked directly into it and fluffed her hair as if she were alone in her boudoir. Most unlike his proper wife. He took another look at the mirror. It was an observation post. By Thor, they were being spied on!
“Your family is Latvian,” he replied to her comment.
She shook her bright curls at him. “Latvia is just what they call our home, nowadays. Time was we lived in the Land of Fae and mixed not at all with mortals.” She sighed, her grief evident.
“Long ago,” he said briskly. “Before you were born.”
Her green eyes flashed. She inclined her head in acknowledgment of his dismissal of ancient fairy history, but her lips tightened enough to show that she was annoyed. “I am happy to have found the Fairchilds.”
“You have family,” he informed her coldly. “Grandmother and Grandfather were disappointed that you did not attend their house party at Chateau Lind. As were my parents. They expected you to join them in France.”
“I sent my regrets. To be honest, I didn’t miss all that formality and tradition. And you didn’t go either,” she pointed out.
“The Eldest and his lady have the honor of the whole House of Lindorm to uphold,” he reminded her sternly. “And when the chateau is crammed with bachelors and virgins, formality is the best way to keep things sedate.” Grandmother’s annual house party was the dragon marriage mart where Rosa Drake and Lady Lindorm herself matched young dragon lords year after year*. “And as you very well know, wife, I was deployed.”
He had spent April and part of May chasing down Russian subs looking for somewhere to offload toxic waste. It was always easier to prevent a dump than to arrange cleanup. Not as exciting or as dangerous as fighting spies, but an officer took the task he was assigned.
“Nothing new there,” she said. A big smile lit her face. “Hello, Charlotte. How are you finding the new job?”
The young woman in the crisp white shirt and black pants looked like professional waitstaff, but she grinned back most unprofessionally. Daniel sniffed. A mermaid. Young, beautiful and not alarmed at serving dragons. Interesting.
“It takes some getting used to. But the tips are better,” Charlotte confided. “Are you ready to order, Angie?”
“Charlotte, this is my husband, Admiral Lindorm. Daniel, this is Charlotte Merryman. Her people own the Crab Hut down in the harbor.”
Daniel stiffened. In what world did you introduce your server? He barely remembered his manners in time. “How do you do, Ms. Merryman? I’ll have a glass of wine, if you will bring me the list. Angie, will you have something besides water?”
“Your usual, Angie?” suggested the server brightly.
Daniel stiffened at the disrespectful address. His wife was Lady Daniel to waitstaff.
“Yes, please,” Angie said. “Please bring us an order of crab cakes to start.”
“Same recipe as the Crab Hut,” Charlotte confided. “But don’t tell Dad!” She whisked herself away.
“Charlotte is the daughter of the mer-king,” Angie whispered.
“And she works here?” He could hardly believe his ears.
Angie chuckled. “She’s declaring her independence by not working at the Crab Hut. I understand that King Roger and Queen Pearl are not happy at their youngest spreading her fins.**”
“I imagine not.”
Charlotte returned with the wine list and a bottle of sparking water which she poured for Angie. “I’ll be right back with those crab cakes.”
The cakes were good. Not Swedish, but good. He said so.
Angie nodded. “The seafood is superb. Overall, the food isn’t bad. But I’m not staying here for the food.”
“Why are you staying here at all?” he demanded. The island was pretty enough. But a backwater.
“I’m making a new life for myself,” she said lightly. “Far away from Sweden. Far away from Europe.”
“Far away from me?”
“That too,” she said sadly. “Our marriage is over, Daniel. I’m going to have a shiny new life where I come first.”
“And what about me? And our baby?”
“You can hang out with your Navy buddies and run errands as if you are still a twenty-something sword bearer. Business as usual. Jack off if you miss me.” The little witch didn’t even blush at her crudity.
His own face must be scarlet. “That is unfair.” He couldn’t continue. Not in public. His mate was more to him than sex. Much more. “And what about our child? If you think I’ll just cede custody, you are delusional.”
She raised one eyebrow at him. A gesture that never failed to annoy him. “You are welcome to visit him or her. Here. We’ll be living here. Robin and her partner are looking forward to the birth of another fairy child. It’s been decades since baby fairies were born on West Haven. They are very fond of Moira’s daughter.”
“Dragon-fairy,” he corrected. “Our child will be a dragon-fairy. And what about his many cousins in Sweden? Our child should not grow up without his Lindorm cousins. Theo and Lexi’s daughter*** can supply whatever Fae connection is missing in the other Lindorm firelings.”
He had been one of six brothers. Surrounded by a host of same-age cousins. Nothing could replace that. Certainly not this scrap of rock in the Pacific. Or a bunch of fairies.
“And what will I tell the Eldest?” he asked coldly.
“Tell him that I’m removing my child from the line of succession.”
*Dragon’s Confession
**Beloved by the Bear
***Dragon’s Christmas Captive & Dragon Enchanted
CHAPTER FIVE
Angie~
She had at last gotten his full attention. Admiral Lord Daniel Lindorm had finally grasped that she didn’t give a fig who replaced the Thane of Lindorm when Thorvald Lindorm finally breathed his last blast of dragon fire. Daniel’s parents Lord and Lady Sven had five other sons. Their own grandsons were almost old enough to marry. There was no reason why the child of their third son should ever become the Eldest of the House of Lindorm.
Eldest was just an honorific. It did not literally mean the oldest male dragon. It just meant the head of the clan. The dragon in charge to whom all others of his line swore allegiance. The Lindorms were the strongest, richest family of dragons in Europe. The Lindorm Fund grew by leaps and bounds. The entire family were big players in the drama-filled world of the Guild of Dragons. Angie was so over dragon drama. So completely over living under the thumb of the Eldest.
“Mamma and Papa do not consider their grandchildren solely as successors to the Thane of Lindorm.” Daniel spoke through his teeth.
Sven and Melisande Lindorm were devoted grandparents. But their children and grandchildren were pawns in the Eldest’s political games. “No,” Angie agreed graciously. “That would be Grandmamma and Grandpapa’s attitude.”
“If it were not for the courage and foresightedness of the Eldest, we would not be the foremost House in all Dragonry.” Daniel’s tone implied that was the pinnacle of existence.
“The Lindorms will survive without us. My baby and me, I mean. You of course must do as you please.” As he always did.
“What does this island have, that Sweden does not? If you are tired of living in Stockholm, you would be very welcome to make your home on Lind Island.”
“No thanks. I prefer it here on West Haven.”
He gazed around scornfully. “I don’t see the attraction.”
“The inn is a little fussy. But this is authentic American Victorian decor. Popular with the tourists, and Victorian charm is part and parcel of West Haven. I notice you don’t ask about my work.” Nothing new there. Daniel paid lip service to her career, but lip service was all.
“You don’t even have a studio,” he said dismissively. He meant, that she had also abandoned her spacious Stockholm studio overlooking the water. The one his wealth and connections had secured for her.
She smirked at him. “Not yet. Robin is going to build me a cottage in her artists’ colony. In the meantime, I’ve found inspiration in the Old Forest.” She had filled sketchbook after sketchbook with drawings she wanted to turn into her signature swirling figures. The island was a continual inspiration.
Daniel twisted his lips mockingly. “Old Forest? I thought this part of the world was clear-cut in the nineteenth century.”
“Unlike Sweden?” She asked sweetly. All of Scandinavia had been logged for centuries. It was only in the recent past that ancient forests had been seen as valuable for more than their timber. “West Haven’s Old Forest is really old. There are sequoias here that were already mature trees when the Vikings first reached North America.”
“Really? In the eleventh century?”
“Uh huh. And dryads.” No one had seen a dryad in Europe in centuries. “They dwell in the Old Forest.”
“You’ve seen dryads, with your own eyes? Or is that just another fairy tale for the gullible?” Daniel’s blue eyes twinkled at her over his wineglass. His voice softened.
“I’ve seen them. You’ll have to walk with me in the forest before you return home.”
“I’m not leaving without you.” He set his glass down, his face stony and implacable. A dragon lord laying down the law.
Hope rose briefly at his words. And died at his unyielding expression. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I just can’t go back to the status quo.” She felt her smile wobble. Blinking stopped her from weeping in public.
“Lindorms do not divorce.” His deliberately soft words fell into her ears, anger rippling in every syllable.
“New country, new traditions,” she responded with a lightness she had to fake.
“Our marriage is not just trash you can discard so you can have your ‘shiny new life’. Surely, our life together is worth working on?”
He thought he had her there. She kept her composure with difficulty. “I’ve been working on our marriage for thirty-three years. When do you plan to start?”
“I’ve never looked at another woman!”
“Fidelity is an excellent starting point. But obviously it isn’t enough. I’ve spent decades trying to change my feelings, trying to be happy in an impossible situation. Well, the stress of all that trying is bad for my baby.” She touched her stomach lightly. “And I am no longer going to pretend I like being left alone most of the time, of never knowing where my husband is, or if he is safe.”
“You are being irrational,” Daniel informed her loftily.
She wasn’t going to cave at his attempt to put her in the wrong. “Deal with it. This is the new me. Maybe your grandmamma will find you a new mate who doesn’t mind if you leave her alone and lonely. I’m done.”
He laid a big hand over his heart. “Lindorms have only one fated mate.”
“What about Lars?*”
“My cousin was widowed for four years before he so much as looked at another female. He fully expected to be a widower – a grieving widower – for the rest of his life. And you know it. You are mine and I don’t intend to let you forget it.”
*Dragon’s Possession
CHAPTER SIX
Daniel~
He could have stayed in the cottage and drunk whatever he found there. But Hyacinth was not just a frilly welter of floral chintz and ruffles, it reeked of his mate. It was almost worse than their Stockholm apartment.
Angie’s new fragrance had seeped into every chair, every closet. It hung in the air. Impregnated the bed. Highlighted her absence. Made him long to set the over-decorated cabin ablaze with a blast of cleansing dragon breath.
After their meal, she had announced that as she was now sleeping for two, she was going to bed. Then she bid him a grave good night. Didn’t even kiss him. He had watched her slip through an almost unnoticeable door in the lobby into the innkeeper’s private suite. He still hadn’t met Angie’s cousin.
To burn off steam, he took himself for a walk down to the harbor. Despite Angie’s assurances that shifting was no secret on West Haven, he was reluctant to take to the air after frightening that gazelle this morning. Who knew how many more tremblers the island harbored?
Great sea lions sprawled over the wooden dock, taking their ease as if they owned the marina. The moored yachts and fishing boats were dark, but the restaurant beside the marina cast sparkling light over the pier. Far out to sea, lights blazed on slow-moving boats. The whale-watching tours had given way to dinner cruises. Glasses clinked, voices spoke in bursts on the decks. The sound, if not the words, carried across the calm ocean.
Daniel strode along the pier, expecting that the sea lions would immediately give way at his approach and dive into the water. Not at all. They opened their mouths in obvious threat and stared him down as if they couldn’t smell him. Apparently even the wildlife knew there was no hunting on West Haven. And unlike the tremblers, they had lost their fear of predators.
He repressed an urge to light a fire under their insolent backsides. That would be cruel and uncivilized.
“If you want them to move, you have to wave a broom at them.” The speaker was sitting in the dark on the deck of a large commercial fishing boat. At least that was what it smelled like.
“They do seem to be in charge,” Daniel responded politely. The sea lions barked demandingly, and waddled closer to his gray pants.
“They expect a handout,” explained the man on the fishing boat. Daniel’s dragon vision picked out broad shoulders and a big face framed by a wildly curling gray beard. More graying hair stuck out from beneath a battered cap. The boat was The Nightingale.
Daniel was almost pissed enough to teach the beggars a lesson. Reason prevailed. He turned to leave.
“Come aboard, Admiral,” White Beard said to his back.
What the hell? How did White Beard know who he was? Curiosity and outrage drove him up the gangplank. The Nightingale bobbed lightly. The sea lions brayed.
White Beard held out his hand. “Gordon Sullivan,” he said genially. “Folks mostly call me Sully.”
Daniel shook hands. “Daniel Lindorm,” he responded. Sullivan’s grip was strong but not challenging. A pungent aroma of long dead fish came from the skipper as well as his boat. Power emanated from him. The man was a strongly talented sensitive.
Sullivan made a deep amused noise. “I know. Have a seat, Dan. I’ll get you a beer – or something stronger?”
“Schnapps if you have it, otherwise the beer will be fine, thank you.”
“Beer it is. Not a lot of call for schnapps from the tourists.” Sullivan ducked into the wheelhouse and returned with a couple of cans in one hand.
He was a little shorter than Daniel and considerably broader, dressed in the foulest oil skins Daniel had ever encountered in a long life spent among sailors of every stripe. They settled themselves on deck on the weathered barrels that passed for seats. The sea lions went back to dozing.
“You take tourists fishing?” Daniel asked.
“Nah. Whale watching. Throw on a crab supper on
the weekends, Memorial Day through Labor Day. The fancy yachts do dinner cruises.” Sullivan waved a hand at the lights skimming along on the water.
“How many of those are yours?” Daniel asked. His new friend’s casualness did not fool him. This was a successful man.
Sullivan’s beard parted to display white teeth. “Three.”
“Good living?”
“I get by.”
They sat and drank in silence.
“I hear you’ve come for your wife,” Sullivan remarked after they a while.
Daniel raised his brows at the impertinence. Considered not answering.
“Mystic Bay is one small town,” Sullivan observed dryly. “No secrets here, my friend.”
“Oh. Well, I have come for Angelina,” Daniel admitted.
“Your arrival was noted,” continued Sullivan. “And mostly folks are wishing you luck.” He drank. “Even if you are sleeping alone tonight.”
Daniel glared at the skipper. How dared he? In the dark, Sullivan’s chuckle rubbed Daniel’s nerves raw. “What business of yours is it?” he asked coldly. “If I am?”
Sullivan ignored the icy challenge in Daniel’s question. His voice remained placid. “Everything that happens in Mystic Bay is my business. I’m the deputy mayor and since the council runs the island.” He shrugged.
“You want my wife to leave?” asked Daniel.
“Not at all. I want her to stay. So does Mayor Fairchild. That would be your Angie’s cousin. Be a feather in our collective caps. Big name sculptor like Angelina Lindorm living on West Haven, showing her pieces at the Artists’ Co-op. She’d be a huge tourist attraction.”
“My wife is not a tourist attraction,” Daniel said shortly. “She will be returning to Stockholm shortly.”
“That will relieve some minds.”
“What have they got against her?” he snapped.
“Not Angie. Her baby. Folks on West Haven are wary of hybrids. We had us some trouble once with grizzly-fairy hybrids. Folks would rather not have any more hunter hybrids around, in case they turn out to be rogues.”
Daniel snorted. “I have news for you people. We dragons are all fricking hybrids. And we are not exactly known for being criminals.” At least not these days.
Adored by A Dragon: A Shifters in Love Fun & Flirty Romance (Mystic Bay Book 4) Page 3