The Dragon in the Stone

by Doris O'Connor

  Instead the woman was allowed to be a thorn in his side, and had been for the last goodness how many centuries. Drorgan had long since stopped counting. What was the point of it, after all?

  Cheryladna lost some of her superior air, at last and grasping Geva by the hand marched out of the hall with her head held high.

  “Eugene, make sure she is not granted access again, will you? I can do without her displays of…”

  He let his words trail off, all too aware of Rhonda’s brows drawing together, while Eugene nodded.

  “But what about the child, my lord?” he asked, and Drorgan took a deep breath in to calm his agitated dragon.

  “Geva is always welcome in the castle, you know that, Eugene.”

  His butler smiled, inclined his head to Rhonda, and followed Cheryladna and Geva out of the hall. Drorgan held his hand out to Rhonda, willing her to take it, and when she slid her trembling fingers into his, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  That simple act of trusting him really shouldn’t mean that much to him.

  ****

  Rhonda had to remind herself to breathe when Drorgan’s fingers closed around hers. Tingles of awareness shot up her arm, and his intense gaze grew heated. She could see the flames in his irises when she looked up into his blue eyes. It was the oddest, yet utterly fascinating thing to witness, and when he tugged on her hand, she willingly followed where he led.

  The murmurs of the crowd started up again, and dread crawled up her spine. She recalled very little of the story of his life Drorgan had told her when she was a little girl, but one thing she did remember.

  …there was a very naughty dragon, called Lord Drorgan. He ruled his world with magic and disdain.

  She’d always thought he’d embellished that part, yet now, here in the great hall with his people whispering and giving him a wide berth she wasn’t so sure that he had. It was becoming obvious that the whole place was under some sort of magic spell. That was the only explanation that made any logical sense. Not that any of this was logical. How else was she to explain all this, however?

  His hand in hers was as real as her own. The heat that emanated off him scorched her skin, and at the same time drew her to him like a moth to the flame. A very dangerous flame as had been so aptly demonstrated by little Geva.

  Rhonda’s heart squeezed painfully at the horrific extent of the little mite’s injuries. Back in her time, a plastic surgeon would be able to at least reduce some of that awful scarring, but here, in this time, whenever that was, such skill was sadly unavailable.

  Lost in her ruminations, and in her very real need to make sense of what she had witnessed, she startled when Drorgan addressed her.

  “Take a seat. I need to deal with these matters, before I can decide what to do with you.”

  His assumption that she was something to be dealt with stung, but Rhonda swallowed the snarky response hovering on her tongue when she looked up at him.

  Far from being haughty, the raw need that showed in his gaze before he blinked and masked his emotions made her heart beat faster. His fingers crushed hers for the second it took her to incline her head in compliance, and another murmur erupted behind her.

  Drorgan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, but his thumb caressed the back of her hand. The slightly calloused pad sent tingles of awareness along her nerve endings, and she immediately missed the contact when he released her, nodding toward a wooden chair on the dais next to his.

  This, too, carried the intricate carvings of a sleeping dragon, just like his navy surcoat did. The fabric stretched over his broad shoulders when he sat down on his chair. Larger than hers, it carried the exact same design. Black diamonds made up the eyes of the dragon’s head that graced the top of his backrest, and a shiver went down Rhonda’s spine as they seemed to come to life under her gaze. She hastily shifted her focus to Drorgan’s muscular thighs as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, while he adjusted his belt away from a sizable bulge. Heat filled her cheeks when it dawned on her why he was doing that, especially when she caught him watching her out of the corner of his eyes, and his lips curled in a sardonic smile.

  In the blink of an eye the mask was back in place as Drorgan waved a hand at the scowling nobleman, who stood to one side of the dais, hand on the hilt of his broad sword.

  “Right, forgive the intrusion, Johannes. I believe you were telling me how you’d sooner kill your daughter than let her marry Duncan’s son?”

  Rhonda gasped in horror, and following Drorgan’s dismissive wave of his hand, she noticed the young couple standing on the other side. The man held a simple dagger in his hand, one arm wrapped protectively around his sweetheart. A much older man, face lined with age and his body stooped over as though he was in pain, was talking to him in low urgent tones and a rough dialect that Rhonda didn’t understand. He had to be the young man’s father, because the resemblance was clear to see.

  “If that what it takes, then yes, I will.” The nobleman spat the words out, and the young woman started to cry. Rhonda itched to go to her, to offer comfort any way she could, but she’d read enough history books to know that would only make things worse.

  This castle, this time was Drorgan’s domain. She had no right to interfere, no matter how much she wanted to. Magda appeared in her line of vision, and her encouraging smile reassured Rhonda that she was doing the right thing by keeping her mouth shut, even if she wanted to scratch that girl’s father’s eyes out.

  The young man tightened his grip on the girl, and said something to her that made her look up at him. There was no mistaking the love that shone out of her eyes. It made Rhonda feel as though she was intruding on a very private moment, and she looked away. Far safer to glare at the nobleman, who now stood with his arms crossed, looking murderous.

  “Then we have a problem, Johannes.”

  Drorgan’s clipped voice put an end to the underlying whispers that filled the room, and Rhonda grasped the wooden arm supports on her chair in a white knuckled grip.

  “I don’t understand why, my lord Drorgan. She is my daughter, my property to see fit to do with as I please, and I will not have her disgrace herself by marrying beneath her. I’m your steward. I demand the respect owed to me. I—”

  He blanched and took several steps back when a deep growl erupted from Drorgan’s massive chest. The vibrations of that growl shook the floor, and Rhonda watched in stunned fascination as Drorgan shot to his feet. Waves of heat emanated off of him, and he seemed to grow taller, more menacing, as though he was struggling to contain his dragon. Any rational person ought to have been frightened, but Rhonda seemed to have lost all sense completely, because she found herself wishing he would change.

  She’d been too out of it to appreciate his transformation from dragon to man last time he’d changed. The crowd in the hall thinned, several of them taking off through the open doors at the back, while the rest drew back. Strangely enough the young couple and the old man didn’t move. Rhonda did wonder why they didn’t seem afraid of Drorgan, before his deep voice bellowed through the air. It held the growl of his dragon, raspy and far too arousing for Rhonda’s peace of mind, as her body responded to the deep command in that rough timbre like a puppet on a string.

  “Owed to you, you say. You forget yourself, steward. I pay you well for your services. I don’t owe you anything.”

  The steward looked as though he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it, and sheathed his sword. Bowing his head, he dropped to one knee.

  “Forgive me, my lord. I chose unwise words. I merely meant that—”

  “I know full well what you meant, as do all of those here assembled, Johannes.” Drorgan interrupted the man again, and Rhonda had to smile at the goldfish impressions this Johannes was now making, as Drorgan stepped off his dais and approached the young couple.

  “What’s your name, sweet thing?” he asked the young woman. She blushed a deep crimson and dropped a curtsy while her lover’s hand tightened on his dagger.<
br />
  “Lucinda, my lord,” she whispered, and Drorgan smiled, while placing his hand on the young man’s arm.

  “That’s a pretty name for someone as fair as you.”

  If that was possible she blushed more, while throwing a worried looking glance toward her intended.

  Johannes, meantime, smirked, some of his superior air returning to his stance, and Rhonda didn’t dare breathe.

  Surely Drorgan wouldn’t…

  Looking between Johannes and Drorgan brought her no clues, especially as sweat broke out on the young man’s brow, and he staggered as though he was in pain. Drorgan didn’t act as though he had a particularly strong hold on the other man’s wrist, but, then again, his dragon’s strength far exceeded that of any mere human, so who knew what he was doing to the man.

  After what seemed an interminably long time, but could have only been seconds in reality, the white knuckled grip the farmer’s son had on his dagger eased, and Drorgan turned his attention to the lad and nodded.

  “That’s better. Relax, son of Duncan. I have no intention of invoking the lord’s claim on this young lady, and you should know better than to try to draw your dagger on your Lord.”

  “My lord, please, he didn’t mean anything. The lad is in love and…”

  Duncan’s hoarse plea on behalf of his son petered out as Drorgan held out his hand to stop him, and he shook his head.

  “Ah yes, love makes fools of us all.” Drorgan glanced Rhonda’s way, and her heart turned into a jackhammer at the odd expression that softened his fierce face for the length of one heartbeat before he turned back to the couple.

  “Tell me, son of Duncan James, are you in a position to look after my steward’s daughter in the manner she is accustomed to?”

  The young man’s face fell, and he shook his head.

  “No, my lord, but I can offer her my heart, my hard work, and my devotion ‘til the day that I die.”

  Rhonda blinked back tears at the wealth of emotion behind those words, and Drorgan nodded again.

  “And you, Lucinda, what say you to this young man’s proposal?”

  “I say yes. I love him, my lord.” Her father swore under his breath, but Lucinda paid him no heed. She clung onto her young man’s arm instead, and Duncan cleared his throat.

  “It will be a hard life we’re offering the lass, for sure, but my son is a good man, and he will do the best he can for any wife of his. Rest assured on that, my lord.”

  Silence fell on the great hall, as Drorgan stepped back and resumed his seat on the dais. The very air seemed to hold its breath as to what he was going to say.

  “Very well, Duncan. You and your family have been loyal supporters of my clan these many years since at great personal cost to yourself.” He paused, ran a hand over his face and sighed, as he scanned the great hall. “You all have suffered for your association with me, and will continue to do so unless…” Drorgan glanced her way, and Rhonda wanted the ground to swallow her whole as everyone’s attention seemed to shift to her. What the hell was that all about?

  “Be that as it may, I grant my permission for the wedding, Duncan.” A grim smile kicked up Drorgan’s full lips when the young couple whooped in delight. “Let Eugene know if you need anything. Call it my wedding present.”

  A gasp went around the room, and Duncan’s eyes grew huge as he bowed as deeply as his advanced age would let him.

  “That is most generous of you, my lord.”

  Drorgan waved him away.

  “‘Tis nothing, Duncan.”

  The steward Johannes let out a stream of obscenities under his breath, and Drorgan’s jovial mood dissipated in a cloud of smoke as his dragon roared again. Rhonda was half expecting him to breathe fire, the way his nostrils flared and he pinned his steward in place with the sheer force of his will it seemed. The fine hair on Rhonda’s exposed arms rose in response to the silent power display, and she swallowed hard, fearing for the hapless steward.

  “If you have something to say, do have the courage to say it to my face, Johannes.”

  The steward paled and shook his head.

  “Nothing, my lord.”

  Drorgan smiled.

  “Good. That will conclude today’s audience, unless anyone else has something particularly pressing for me to see to?” He swept his gaze across the room, and when no one stepped forward he extended his hand to Rhonda with a silent question in his crystal blue gaze. Heat flared in the blue orbs, when she took his hand without a moment’s hesitation and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She was once again struck by his presence as he pulled her closer, so near that his body heat infused her, and she had to fight the urge to lean in even more, to wrap herself around his tall, hard frame and to never let go.

  It was the damnedest thing, the way their connection pulsed between them like a living entity. It made the rest of the great hall fade in the background as Rhonda stared up at him, waiting for his next move.

  Drorgan pulled her closer still, and Rhonda forgot to breathe altogether, when he cupped her face with his free hand, and rubbed his thumb over her lips in slow, lazy moves that made her heart rate go into overdrive. His jaw tightened, and in the next instant he blinked and pulled away, releasing her from whatever strange hold he’d held her under.

  His fingers flexed around her hand sending a surge of heat up her arm, and he shook his head and mumbled something that she didn’t quite catch.

  Turning them both so that they faced the hall he raised his voice.

  “Let me make one thing clear. If I hear of any attempts to stop this wedding, or any unfortunate accident should befall the young couple or indeed Duncan, I shall be very displeased. Do we understand each other, Johannes?”

  His steward blanched and bowed his head.

  “Perfectly, my lord.”

  “Good, likewise if I hear any rumors or speculations about Lady Rhonda here...” He stopped to glance at her and raising their joined hands up to his lips, dropped a kiss on the back of hers. Rhonda clamped her lips together to stop herself from moaning out loud, but the feel of his soft warm lips on her bare flesh, even if engaged in such an innocent act, sent her libido into overdrive. Amusement showed briefly in his gaze, before he addressed the hall again.

  “The lady is my guest, and as such will be afforded every courtesy. I will not tolerate anyone filling her head with nonsense, nor do I want any of you to get hopeful this is more than me extending my hospitality to a lady in need. Now be off with you.”

  He waited until the last villager had cleared the hall and only Magda and Eugene remained with them.

  Eugene cleared his throat and winked at Rhonda.

  “Luncheon is served, my lord. I took the liberty of having it arranged in the library as Lady Rhonda expressed an interest in seeing it, and at this time of day the light is best in that part of the castle.”

  Rhonda wanted to kiss the old butler, and some of her enthusiasm must have shown on her face, because the old man beamed at her.

  Drorgan seemed less enthused at this answer, if the low growl that erupted from him was any indication. Sure enough he released her hand and gave a formal bow in Rhonda’s direction. While the act was perfectly courteous it still felt like a slap in the face, and her happiness evaporated in a flash.

  “Very well, show her the way. I will be eating in my room.”

  Magda shook her head and glared at him, and Rhonda’s temper rose, when he jumped off the dais, seemingly all set to leave her on her own again.

  “Don’t leave on my account, Lord Drorgan.” Her words stopped his retreat, and his shoulders tensed.

  “I’m not. I just have things to do.”

  “You said you’ll eat in your room. That means you’re hungry, but for some reason don’t want to eat with me. I’m sorry that my appearance is so abhorrent to you that you can’t bring yourself to eat in my presence.”

  That got through to him at last, because Drorgan spun around. Rhonda was half expecting to be doused in a strea
m of fire. He looked utterly furious right now. Head down, hands fisted by his sides, nostrils flaring he looked menacing and so damn sexy that Rhonda squeezed her thighs together to stop the hot liquid evidence of her arousal from sliding down the inside of her thighs.

  Where were a girl’s favorite pair of comfy knickers when she needed them? Better still lady pads, if he kept glaring at her like that.

  And why on earth was that such a damn turn-on? Maybe she had hit her head too hard in that assault she had barely escaped from. Yes, that had to be it.

  “Did I say that? Damn it, woman, what do you want from me?”

  Drorgan ground the words out through clenched teeth, as he slowly advanced on her. Something in his expression made her retreat until the back of her legs hit his chair and she sat down with a thump. Immediately he was on top of her, crowding her, his hands either side of her head, grasping the backrest with so much force that the wood creaked under his fingers.

  Every feminine cell in her body sighed in submission, but she refused to let him see how much he affected her. So instead of closing her eyes and leaning in to claim his full lips in the kiss she so desperately craved, she put her hands on his chest instead and pushed. Not that it had any effect on moving him. His breathing sped up, and his pupils dilated, and he angled his head studying her.

  “Why the hell aren’t you afraid of me, woman?”

  Rhonda curled her hands into his tunic, not to push him away this time, but to pull him in closer. Not that he let her do that either and she groaned her frustration.

  “Why should I be?”

  Chapter Six

  She was going to be the death of him. Quite literally, unless he got this thing between them under control. He had to get away, to keep his distance from her. She was a woman, and Magda notwithstanding they couldn’t be trusted. Human women even less so, and regardless of what his mind, heart, and dragon were screaming at him, she wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be, and besides he couldn’t, wouldn’t condemn her to this half-life stuck in a world and time that had to be completely alien to her. Despite the prophecy there was no way out of this curse. How could there be? They had been stuck like this for too many goddamn centuries.