Garden of Dragons (Dark Gardens Series Book 3)

by Meara Platt

  She continued to study the imposing room. There was a large, canopied bed in the center of it. Dark blue curtains draped over the canopy and an exquisite gold and blue carpet covered most of the floor. There were dragon carvings along the mahogany mantelpiece over the fireplace, but she would have been surprised if it were otherwise. “My maid and your valet will fear to lose their positions if we constantly dismiss them from their duties,” she teased.

  “Would you rather not have me undress you?” His wicked smile was irresistibly appealing.

  She shook her head and laughed softly. “No, it’s far more fun when you do it.”

  He was most accommodating, his touch setting her body afire as he slipped her out of her gown and then assisted her in removing his clothes because she wasn’t nearly as adept at seduction as he was and struggled with his buttons. “Your prowess astounds me, little one.”

  “Be quiet, you wretch. Men have so many more layers and fastenings, it isn’t at all fair.”

  They were moaning and laughing and eager for each other as they fell into the large bed and wasted no time in warming each other between the sheets. When they were both spent and resting in each other’s arms, Anabelle drew his lips to hers for a long, lingering kiss. “Are you ready to talk?”

  He groaned. “Must we?”

  She smiled, but took no pains to hide her disappointment. “No, not if you don’t wish to. But I do so enjoy lying in your arms and sharing my thoughts. There’s something wonderful about talking to you in the intimate quiet of our bed.” Her smile broadened. “Our bed. I love the sound of it. And I love you.”

  He wasn’t going to say the words back to her. She knew he wouldn’t and contented herself with all that he was willing to give her. He needed and desired her, and would sacrifice his life to protect her. “Tell me about Prinny’s note. Was it about his advisors?”

  Saron sank back against his pillows and moaned. “Will you not let the matter go, little one?”

  “I would, but it obviously troubles you. You were fretting throughout our wedding breakfast. Afterward, Penelope, Julia, and I noticed that you and Lord Eastbourne spent a good amount of time in a quiet corner engaged in deep discussion. Why not let me help? I am your dragon mate, after all.”

  “That you are.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close against his body.

  She loved the way their bodies fit together, the warmth of his skin and the tickle of his chest hairs against her cheek, and the perfect way she seemed to twine around him like climbing roses around a solid oak tree.

  “I’ve been summoned for an audience with Prinny first thing in the morning. He’s set on opening negotiations with Bloodaxe and refuses to heed my warning.”

  “Then let’s work on swaying the advisors. We know one will not be reasoned with because he’s been corrupted. But that leaves three others. Perhaps they don’t fully understand the danger these Dragon Lords pose.”

  “They do, but their common sense is clouded by pride and political ambition.”

  “It seems to be the curse of men,” she said, casting him a wry glance, “to advance civilization through curiosity and exploration, then ruin it all by their need to conquer and control. In this regard, I believe men are no better than demons.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. Each time I seal a portal, some idiot opens it back up.” He shifted so that he was now facing her. “Knox is the eldest of his advisors and very old line. He doesn’t fancy the idea of hanging a peer, no matter that these Dragon Lords are not of our realm. He believes that punishing any nobleman, even one such as Bloodaxe, might give the English commoners ideas about ridding themselves of their ruling class, much as the French rid themselves of theirs.”

  Anabelle shook her head. “Goodness, what arrogance!”

  “Without question. He even has the look of such a man, large and bloated, walks about with pompous disdain, sneering at everyone he believes is beneath him.” Saron studied her and the sincere outrage so evident in her expression. “He won’t be budged. I’ve tried to reason with him.”

  “Do the others feel the same way?” She rested on her elbow, her lips pursed in thought.

  “Reston agrees with Knox, though he might yet be swayed. He isn’t nearly as intolerant or arrogant as that old bag of wind, but he believes it is unwise to punish a Dragon Lord for fear it may upset the balance in the demonic realm.”

  “Would it?”

  “I don’t think so. For that to happen, demons would need to feel greed, ambition, jealousy, and arrogance. But they’ve lost the ability to feel anything but hatred. Hate is all they have left, all that sustains them. They feed upon it, breathe in its foul stench through their oily pores. Hate is the malignant blackness that flows through their veins, the evil that keeps their wicked hearts beating. Punishing one Dragon Lord would have little impact on their balance of power.”

  “Surely, Prinny’s other advisors can make him see reason.”

  “I had hoped for an ally in Lord Asbury, but he’s intrigued by Bloodaxe’s magical abilities. He believes there are mystical secrets to be wrung from him.”

  “It’s true. There are.”

  He nodded. “But to approach him is to approach a venomous asp. One bite and you’re dead. It’s far too dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. Bellingham, that codswallop, holds no opinions whatsoever, merely chooses to agree or disagree depending on which way he senses Prinny is leaning. He’s an utter toady.”

  “Do they know about your powers? Or the time you spent in the Underworld realm?”

  “No,” he said softly. “That is something I would only share with you.”

  She placed her hand hesitantly over his, her fingers soft and gentle as they caressed his tense flesh. “I’m so sorry for the pain Brihann and Bloodaxe and those other beasts have caused you,” she said in a whisper. “I’m so sorry for all the pain they continue to cause you. But we must have faith that good will triumph over evil, that justice will be done. I have faith in you, my love.”

  “Don’t, little one.” He emitted a groan, unable to choke back his pent-up anguish. “There is no justice in this world. Good never triumphs over evil.”

  “But you have triumphed over the Dragon Lords. They’re trapped in their realm and cannot come out unless Prinny allows it.”

  “Which he will, and we’ll be right back where we started.”

  “No, it won’t be the same. I’ll be by your side. Our meeting was a good thing, even though neither of us thought so at the time. There’s a reason we’re now married and I’m your dragon mate. We weren’t merely brought together in a marriage of convenience. Indeed, this is probably the most inconvenient marriage ever to take place.”

  “All because of your father’s mad wager,” he said with unwarranted gruffness and drew away.

  “No, our hearts led us here. Not my father and not the Stone of Draloch either, no matter how powerful and bound to your Draloch ancestry it is. Love is the force that brought us together and I don’t think even the all-knowing Stone of Draloch has the power to overcome that.”

  He shook his head. “Go to sleep, little one. No more talk of my demonic ancestry. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and so have I.”

  “Very well. Good night, Saron.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

  *

  Anabelle managed a few hours of fitful sleep back in her own duchess quarters before Sally, the young maid Saron had assigned to serve her, came in with her breakfast tray shortly after eight o’clock in the morning.

  “A splendid morning it is,” the thin-haired blonde chirped. She wasn’t a beautiful girl, but she had a bright disposition and pretty eyes. Happy eyes, something not seen much in London. The girl set down a tray on her night table, then crossed to the windows to draw aside the curtains.

  Sunlight spilled into the chamber in a great ball of warm, yellow light that seemed to bring the orchids painted on the wallpaper to life. “Oh, I know it always see
ms gloomy when you wish it to be bright,” Sally said, huffing as she opened a window, “and shiny as a new shilling when you wish it to be gray. But I’ll take bright sunshine any day. We’ve had so little of it these past few weeks. Why, it rained all of last month without so much as a break in the clouds, not even for an hour. Terrible for the disposition, anyone’s disposition, I say. And not at all pleasant for the ladies and their fine silk gowns. Speaking of which, Lady Penelope wishes to take you shopping again today.”

  “I’m certain we thoroughly emptied the shops already,” Anabelle said, the activity seeming so trivial after all she and Saron had discussed last night. There were demons to chase back into the Underworld, but not before a stop at the fashionable modistes? It was absurd to think that a fine wardrobe would protect her from those creatures.

  “There’s plenty more shops in London and you’re in need of suitable gowns, that’s what Lady Penelope says. Oh, not that your clothes aren’t beautiful, Your Grace. But they’re two years out of fashion and His Grace will be considered vile for failing to take care of you when he isn’t vile at all.”

  “You like him, Sally.”

  “Of course. We all do. Many on his staff come from bad beginnings, but you wouldn’t know it now. His Grace took us in and never once looked down on us though he had every right to do so because we come from the gutter, some of us do. His Grace has always treated us kindly and with respect, unlike other fancy gents who kick people about like dogs, who give more thought to a pair of old boots than to their servants. Indeed, some would sooner toss out a loyal servant than toss out a pair of old boots.” She stopped, as though suddenly realizing she was speaking to an earl’s daughter and now the wife of the duke who employed her, not another of Saron’s retainers.

  “Forgive me, m’lady. I had no right to prattle so.”

  “That’s all right, Sally. I don’t mind. I’m eager to learn more about my husband. It is no secret that we fully disliked each other at first, but my opinion of him changed considerably once we met.”

  The girl smiled. “His Grace has tremendous admiration for you, too. He never takes a liking to anyone who isn’t quality and that’s good enough for us.”

  Anabelle sat up in bed and reached for the tray, which held a pot of hot chocolate, two coddled eggs hidden under a silver lid, marmalade, and freshly baked crumpets. She rarely took breakfast in bed, but allowed herself the indulgence this one time for she and Saron had stayed up too late and she was now exhausted. “Go on, Sally. Tell me more.” She liked that his staff not only thought well of him, but appeared to be devoted to him.

  “He cares for those less fortunate,” Sally confided. “His frightful outward appearance hides a heart of gold.”

  Anabelle nodded and listened intently, encouraging Sally to chat away while attending to her duties. Once Anabelle was washed and dressed, she was eager to find Saron, although she feared he’d already left the house.

  “Oh, m’lady.” Sally shook her head and tsked. “A pity to waste such a glorious day. London doesn’t have too many of those. His Grace isn’t one to waste the day, either. Took himself off first thing. Sun was barely up. He was frowning as he rode off, but it’s to be expected. He has important matters that concern him.”

  Anabelle never thought to ask last night whether he would be gone the entire day. No doubt he would since the Prince Regent was most demanding of his time. “Did he mention when he plans to return?”

  “I wouldn’t know, Your Grace. But Mrs. Crawford,” she said, referring to Saron’s housekeeper, “may know. Shall I ask her?”

  “No. It isn’t important.”

  Anabelle wasn’t eager for the planned trip to the fashionable ladies’ shops, but knew how much Penelope enjoyed these diversions and didn’t wish to disappoint her. Also, it would give her the chance to speak to Penelope about Bloodaxe, for a thought was nagging at the back of her mind and she could not speak of it to Saron.

  She wandered out of her room and knocked lightly at Penelope’s door, which was open. “Do come in, child. Or shall I refer to you now as Your Grace?”

  “Goodness, no. Anabelle will do.” Penelope had made her feel most welcome from the first and she adored her. “It feels quite odd to be here in London and married, no less.”

  Penelope arched a gray eyebrow. “I hope you are enjoying married life with my nephew.”

  She blushed. “Very much.”

  What a difference a few months had made in her life. In truth, even in these last few days. Her heart had always been bound to Harleigh Hall. At Harleigh, she would have been checking on her brother’s lessons, paying calls on the tenants, making certain the animals were properly fed and tended, ensuring the household was stocked and running in proper order.

  But her heart was now bound to Saron. Her place was with him, wherever he chose to be, even if it meant remaining in London. What would she do to fill her days here? Saron’s capable housekeeper saw to every detail of running the house. She and Penelope couldn’t go shopping every day.

  “Saron and I spoke at length last night,” Anabelle said, closing the door to ensure they would not be overheard. “He told me so much about his parents, about Lord Bloodaxe and the Dragon Lords.”

  “I’m glad. He’s needed to unburden himself ever since he climbed those Razor Cliffs and made his escape as a little boy.” Without pausing, Penelope donned a stunning green velvet pelisse with matching green reticule and gloves, but her hands shook as she donned her gloves. “I know he hasn’t told me everything. In truth, I couldn’t bear to hear the little he did tell me. What is it you wish to know from me?”

  “Tell me about Bloodaxe.” She shook her head and sighed in frustration. “Not as he is now, but as he was as Saron’s older brother, Arik.”

  Penelope placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, dear,” she said, turning away to tilt her chin and tie the ribbons of her sleek green bonnet. Trimmed in silver thread, the bonnet trim matched the bright silver of her hair. She cast a quick glance in the mirror to inspect her appearance. “I don’t know what I can tell you, for I rarely saw the boys when they were younger. My husband and I did not like their parents and often made excuses not to see them. I dearly regret it now, for we might have saved both of them.”

  Anabelle knew the discussion was an uncomfortable one for Penelope and quite distressing, but it was important. “Were they close as brothers?”

  “Yes.” She tried to keep the desolation out of her voice and knew by the look of pity in Anabelle’s eyes that she’d failed. “That’s what gives me the greatest heartache. Despite the six-year difference in their ages, they spent much time together. Oh, not when their parents were in residence at Draloch, for they shunned Saron and kept him confined to his room. No doubt they did not want the boys to grow attached to each other knowing…” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Knowing Saron was to be delivered to Brihann when he turned six years old.”

  “But they developed a brotherly bond anyway.”

  Penelope nodded. “The Draloch housekeeper had a gentle heart and would quietly allow the boys to spend time together. Why are you so interested in their past?”

  “Because I think Bloodaxe is in danger. Only he’s as stubborn and proud as Saron is and won’t accept his help.” She sighed. “Not that my husband would offer it anyway. Never to him.”

  “Anabelle, dear. I don’t think this is something you ought to meddle in. This is no simple family disagreement. One misstep could kill you and change the fate of all the realms.”

  “I know. I promise not to do anything foolish.” But she had to return to the Stone of Draloch and speak to the Fae king and queen, for they’d engaged the Dragon Lords in battle and defeated them. “I’ll grab my bonnet. Let’s go shopping.”

  Saron’s imposing black carriage with the blue-eyed dragon emblazoned on the door made its way with ease through the crowded London streets, through Grosvenor Place, past Hyde Park and its popular Rotten Row. Finally, the carriage drew
up to a charming street off Park Lane. “Stop here,” Penelope commanded, thumping on the hood with her walking stick when they arrived. “Yes, this will do quite nicely. Come along, Anabelle.”

  Madame de Bressard was all smiles. The little whirlwind of a woman spoke in brisk, French-accented sentences as she welcomed them in, and quickly had two of her best girls on hand to tend to Anabelle’s every need. In no time, Anabelle was stripped out of her gown and buried beneath cloths of varying shades and textures while the trio draped, pinned, gathered, furled, unfurled, and marked the cloths in white chalk against the outline of her curves. “She has ze excellent body,” the Madame announced, now working a fine, cream silk fabric about her bosom, though Anabelle needed very little enhancement there.

  Having Madame’s undivided attention caused a stir among the other patrons. Anabelle felt their gazes upon her. Most simply looked on in silence, but a few of them were not very discreet. “I see the duke has wasted no time in making her more than his ward,” one unpleasant woman whispered rather loudly.

  “I wouldn’t mind being in her shoes,” her pinch-voiced companion replied wistfully. “I hear he’s very generous with his mistresses.”

  “Yes, until he tires of them. But he’s married to the Harleigh girl now, no doubt at the urging of the royal family. The duke would never have agreed to be shackled to her otherwise. Come along, Drusilla. The air is foul in here,” the sour-faced patron said as she marched out of the shop.

  Penelope turned to Anabelle with a frown. “Pay no attention to that odious biddy. She’s a miserable, old gossip.”

  “And Society loves gossip. The truth is often irrelevant.” Anabelle wanted to chase after her and give her a good poke in the nose, but the modiste’s assistants were pinning the hem of her new, blue velvet riding habit and she dared not move. The blue was the richest, sapphire blue she’d ever seen. All the fabrics in Madame de Bressard’s shop were exquisite. A shimmering pearl satin material for a new ball gown lay in a luminous swirl at her feet.

  The shop door opened again and a Society friend of Penelope’s sauntered in. Penelope greeted her warmly, but the facade of mutual pleasantness disappeared when the friend, Lady Marmott, was introduced to Anabelle. “You’re his…ward.” She spit out the word as though she’d just stepped in muck.