by Jane Atchley
Something thumped in his bedchamber. “Ky? Tia’adoi?”
No answer. Duncan hauled himself to his feet grimacing at the feel of wet wool against his backside. Wonderful, now he would have to change. “Ky’lara?”
Still no answer. Odd.
“Roland?” Duncan limped out of his bathing area and froze. A smile broke over his face, and he forgot all about the soles of his feet aching.
****
Faelan took a moment to catch her breath. When she was away from Duncan, she convinced herself he was not as gorgeous as memory made him. No man was that prefect. But in the flesh, fresh from his bath, shirtless, shoeless, and tousled, eyes of burning blue, his smooth golden skin smelling of oranges and chocolate, he took her breath away. She shivered. All that impossible masculine beauty focused on her. He smiled.
As he continued to do nothing but stand there smiling, Faelan swung her legs off his bed and stood. Closing the distance between them, she ran her palms across his muscular chest, and down his arms, entwining her fingers with his.
She watched him raise their joined hands to his lips and kiss her knuckles.
“You really must stop appearing unexpectedly in my bedchamber, Faelan. I might develop expectations.”
“Would it be such a bad thing?”
“No.” Resting his forehead against hers he closed his eyes inhaled and let his breath out in a long sigh. “You smell like home.”
Tears pooled in Faelan’s eyes. “You smell like oranges and chocolate.”
His eyes flashed open. He raised his head, gave her a diffident little grin. “My sister sends soap from home. It repels insects.”
Standing eye-to-eye with Duncan never failed to surprise Faelan. In her mind’s eye he was bigger than life. “You don’t let a girl’s romantic illusions get in the way of the facts do you?” Faelan freed one hand and punched his shoulder emphasizing her point. Duncan let out a little gasp. She couldn’t believe her playful pat had hurt. “Are you all right?”
“Not altogether, no. Do you mind if we sit?”
Faelan wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Her other arm went around his waist. She was surprised he actually leaned on her as she walked over to his bed. He sat on the edge looking grateful for her help. She picked his legs up forcing him to recline and sat beside him. Her fingers brushed the sun-bleached hair off his brow.
“What happened out on the battle field?”
“My great-grandfather dropped into me for a visit.”
“You shifted into a dragon.”
Duncan shot a pained smile toward the ceiling. “Yes. I know.”
“Did you realize how terribly beautiful you where gliding across the sky?”
His bright, bright blue eyes focused on her face. “Did you think so? Really? Were you not afraid?”
“Yes and no. Yes, you were beautiful and no, I wasn’t afraid. I knew you’d never hurt me.”
Capturing her hand mid-motion, he pressed a kiss into her palm. “I am glad, because I was not sure.”
“Ky’lara told me Addiri means little dragon. Why did you tell me you were descended from pirates?”
“Because it is true.” Duncan blew out a frustrated breath. “I thought my family gifted, and the Drake legend, simply legend—a fanciful myth the Maoliou fabricated to explain away my family’s anomalies. I am a man of science, Faelan. I deal in fact, not myth. Now I find every myth is fact. Everything I believed about myself and my family is not true. And the new truth is very unsettling.”
He sounded so much like a petulant child Faelan couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t I know it? My truths are unsettling too. Move over.”
Duncan shifted left, making room for Faelan. “You are not the least bit afraid of me? You do not care whether I am possessed by a dragon?”
She stretched out beside Duncan, resting her head on his shoulder, one hand teasing his flat brown nipple with her fingers. She couldn’t help it. His chest was muscled and beautiful. “It’s who you really are. Do you care that I’m dual-natured?
“Never think it.” Duncan planted a kiss on her brow. “I like it. It’s like having a secret weapon.”
“What were you trying to do before I came in?”
“Dress myself. Captain Fawr wants me to make a riding tour of your camp. It proved a bit more taxing than anticipated.”
“Men.” Faelan sat up. “Roland!”
The cadet stuck his head in, “Yes, Miss Faelan?”
“Tell Captain Fawr that Duncan needs more rest. He won’t be riding this afternoon—”
“Roland, please tell him,” Duncan cut in. “I will attend bonfire tonight. I will also prepare the formal surrender documents this afternoon, and I would be grateful if he would make preparations for the signing ceremony.”
“Yes sir.”
“Where were we?” Faelan snuggled against Duncan’s side and slowly walked her fingers down the shallow valley formed by his abdominal ridges.
His hand trembled as it skated down her side to rest possessively on her hip. “I-I c-cannot pull my boots on by myself, Faelan. I cannot possibly—”
Faelan stopped his breathless sputtered protest with a kiss. She had the power to make a dragon tremble, what a heady aphrodisiac. The bulge rising in his trousers said everything she needed to know about what Duncan could and could not do. She broke their kiss just long enough to whisper against his lips, “It’s a good thing you’re not by yourself then, isn’t it?”
Careful of his physical condition, Faelan made gentle love to him, not once but twice, before both of them fell into a deep sated sleep.
Later Faelan rolled over, ran her hand over the cool sheet where Duncan’s warmth should be, and came awake with a start. Propping herself up on one elbow, she looked around the chamber. Duncan hadn’t gone far. He sat at his campaign desk, quill in hand, bent over a piece of paper. Unmindful of her nudity, Faelan padded over and leaned on his shoulder.
Ah yes, the surrender document. How had she forgotten? Could it be because Aimery Duncan held the power to make her forget her own name? Surely nothing as simple as that.
Duncan raised his head and brushed her cheek with his lips. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”
Yes, that was it.
He’d dressed completely, including boots.
“You’re feeling better.”
“Uh-huh. Very mortal, a feeling I have recently come to find beneficial. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Laughter bubbled up in Faelan’s throat and spilled out. “Anytime I can help, just call out.”
Duncan strode over to the bed, yanked the top sheet off and draped it around her shoulders. “I hate covering perfection, but if I don’t, I will never get any work done. Plus, it is getting late. No telling how much longer Roland and Ky can keep certain people from barging in on us. Do you know what I think?”
Faelan tucked the sheet under her arm. “I’m afraid to guess.”
“I think I should take you home with me.” Duncan dropped a kiss on her collarbone. “We could run naked through my house. Would you like that?”
Yes, please. Her heart stopped. “What are you asking, Aimery?”
Complete confusion flashed across his face. “I-I am asking if you would like to visit my home.”
Her heart started beating again. “What happened to my sweet, reluctant lover?”
“He sprouted wings and flew away. I am who I am.” Duncan returned to his desk and tapped the papers he had been working on straight. “He was your enemy and your jailer. You should be glad to see the end of him.”
“We’re not enemies now?”
“No.” Grabbing Faelan’s hand Duncan tugged her into his lap. “You are a worthy adversary which, anyone may tell you, is a different dynamic altogether.”
“On your side of the river, maybe. On my side of the river, I’m a collaborator.”
Duncan’s face went blank, all the fun sucked right out of him.
Great Ancestor, why didn’t I slap his face whi
le I was at it?
“Captain Fawr gave you the liaison position to please me. I am sorry it brought you trouble. I can appoint someone else. It will not repair your reputation, but still…”
Faelan silenced him, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Aimery, honey, my brother can tell you I haven’t cared about my reputation for years. I made a joke that wasn’t funny. Forget it.”
Ignoring his doubtful expression she snatched the document out of his hand. “Let’s hear what you have in store for my people before we make plans to run through your house naked.”
That put a smile on Duncan’s face. “Then you’ll come?”
Faelan’s eyebrows shot up. She’d never heard Duncan use a contraction. “I’m not making promises.” Their wartime romance was as bittersweet as any of the holiday love affairs Faelan remembered from girlhood, full of angst and passion. But once the holiday ended, the lovers returned to the real world. Regardless of what he said, it was unlikely Duncan really wanted her at his side in the real world. “Read, Field Marshal.”
Chapter Thirty
Duncan watched Faelan’s hopeful expression wilt as he read. At some point, she moved from his lap to perch on the corner of his desk, her expression pensive. Pain shot through his chest. A woman fresh from his bed shouldn’t look pensive. It was a terrible expression and one he longed to erase.
Laying the document on the desk beside Faelan’s sweet, sheet-clad bottom, Duncan tapped the edges straight with his fingers. “Was I not generous?”
Faelan jerked as if he’d startled her. Leaning forward she placed her hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Duncan felt the knot in his chest ease.
“General parole for the rank-and-file in exchange for an oath is very generous. You promised your people justice for the men who raided your camp, so I understand why those men must hang, but…”
Faelan glanced away. Oh, he didn’t like that at all. “But you would have me change…” Duncan let the last word stretch out inviting comment.
“Most of the men involved in that heinous raid are conscripted men under orders. As such, they can’t protest as your troopers can. Hanging them alongside their commanders doesn’t feel like justice to me.”
Duncan dipped his pen in the inkwell and made addition to the document. “I will offer a choice, and limit executions to those who refuse to swear an oath of peace. This is the best I can do. One can only push progressive ideas so far before running into the stone wall that is Captain Fawr.” He glanced up at her. “You are not smiling yet.”
“Must you transport my uncle and the chief-men to Elhar?”
Duncan opened his arms, wiggled his fingers in invitation hoping she would not refuse him. “Come here.”
Faelan slid off the desk, settling on his lap.
“Your uncle invaded a peaceful neighbor and ordered the murder of Kingdom citizens, citizens under the protection of the Great Ladies. There’s no help for it.
“But in truth, I have another reason. You see, I find I do not enjoy war. I do not want to fight this war again in a score of years. Your uncle must face the Ladies with your peoples’ accusations and own your own myths and legends, whether they are true or false.”
Much as he wanted to, Duncan did not try to stop Faelan from leaving his lap. He silenced the protest that threatened to burst from his lips when she began rewinding the yards of fabric that made up her clothing, even though he liked seeing her wrapped in his sheet much more.
Duncan didn’t move a muscle, but his anxiety grew with every passing silent moment. His inner temperature climbed, and now that he understood its meaning, he mentally sung the pact. All the while, he watched Faelan finger-comb her hair and prepare to leave him.
She was going to walk out of his tent and take her sea-breeze scent with her. He knew it. He even expected it.
Just when he thought he might fall on his knees and beg her to understand, she turned to him. “You have to look at the big picture. I know you do. It’s just Uncle Ari and Quinn are the last blood family I have.”
Duncan crossed the space and held her in his arms before he knew he had moved. “I did my best, Faelan. I counted scouts with the rank-and-file over the objections of my generals. I prevailed because Captain Fawr supported me.”
“What happens to my uncle?”
“I cannot say.”
Faelan tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes. “Why can’t you, because you don’t want to or because you truly don’t know?”
“It is beyond my control. I hope the Ladies will hear your uncle’s story and be merciful. Maybe they will ransom him.”
“I could never pay a ransom.” Her voice broke on a little sob at the end.
Duncan almost blurted out, “If you marry me, you can.”
Instead, he settled for rubbing her back.
The familiar and insistent sound of his captain’s voice drifted to his ear from the outer tent. Duty called or rather, Captain Fawr called, which meant Duncan had a bonfire to attend. Drawing a deep breath, he filled his soul with Faelan’s fresh sea-breeze scent, and stepped away. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He never wanted to say goodbye again.
“Come to the bonfire with me.”
Faelan stared at him as if he had suddenly run mad. Why he could not imagine. It had sounded like a straightforward invitation to him.
She must have read his puzzlement on his face because she burst out laughing. The sound of her laughter, as beautiful to him as always, for the first time, did not fill him with a sense of joy. He didn’t have a clue what she found amusing. An invitation to bonfire was an honor, not a joke.
She read that too, for she stifled her mirth pressing her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Duncan.” Faelan dabbed a tear out of the corner of her eye with one fingertip. “I didn’t mean to laugh, but you’re asking me to celebrate my own defeat. Are you trying to make it so I have no place at all among my own people?”
Duncan offered a wry grin. “I did not think.”
Faelan chuckled as if he had made another joke. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Dipping his chin, Duncan gazed at her through his lashes the way he knew turned women sweet. “My only thought was of not having to say goodbye so soon.”
It worked. Faelan moved into his range, palmed his check. Slipping his hands around her waist, Duncan pulled her in for a kiss. He rested his forehead against hers. Now we’re seeing eye-to-eye. Duncan smiled. He hadn’t thought of his brother’s silly expression since he was last at home, a lifetime ago.
“How would you like to visit your uncle instead?”
“Mmm…very much.”
He eyed his rumpled bed. “Will you come back to me after?”
Faelan followed his gaze. “I can’t.”
Was it his imagination or did her tone imply more than her words. “Will I see you at the signing ceremony?”
Faelan pulled out of the loose circle of his arms. “I have no place there. It’s considered men’s business.”
Men’s business? Duncan frowned. His Faelan would see that as a reason to attend.
“For fuck sake,” Captain Fawr roared from outside Duncan’s private chamber. “Kiss her goodbye and let’s go. It’s your damn bonfire. It can’t start without you.”
“Give me a moment, sir.”
Crossing to his desk, Duncan scrawled a few sentences on a piece of paper, folded it in half, and closed Faelan’s fingers around it.
“Don’t make me come in there, Sugar-babe.” The captain’s voice sounded much closer this time.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Stop.” Duncan batted Roland’s hands away from his throat. “Hand me those damn bars, and stop choking me.”
Roland opened his hand, his eyes as round as saucers. “Did you just say damn, sir?”
Duncan sucked blood off his thumb where the first bar had pricked him. His head pounded as if he had not gagged down a cup of willow bark tea. At the thought of willow bark tea, his stomach gave a sudden upwa
rd lurch. He pressed the heel of his hand to his sternum. His head pounded like a bonfire drum. Ashes. He hated alcohol.
His cadet had the nerve to grin. “You did. You said damn.”
“Perhaps.” Rotating his head with great care, Duncan pinned the cadet with a blazing stare. “I am out-of-sorts this morning, and I am familiar with the use of the word.”
The lad shrugged and muttered, “Next you’ll be using contractions.”
Roland’s insolence was not worth comment. Duncan concentrated his failing patience on affixing the final gold bar to his high collar. With any luck at all, it was the last time he would ever wear the damnable, yes damnable, things.
“Since you don’t need help dressing, sir, I’ll just fetch your breakfast.”
“Please no. I cannot stomach the thought.” Duncan shuddered. “I don’t want breakfast. I want—Faelan in my bed, in my life—the twins. Find them for me, please.”
The boy grinned. “You said don’t.”
“Roland.”
“Yes sir. I’m going.”
****
“Lannie? Are you crying?”
“Go away, Quinn.”
“Uh-uh. My little sister’s crying. I can’t walk away from that. I’m counting to ten then I’m coming in. So blow your nose. One. Two—”
“Just come in since you’re going to anyway. Nobody listens to me. Not you or him.”
The mattress sagged under Quinn’s weight, his hand skimmed her shoulder, comforting her as he had done for as long as she could remember.
“Tell bubba what terrible the Field Marshal did this time, apart from turning our Nicholas into an overdone shish kebab, defeating our army, and taking our uncle prisoner.”
“Apart from that.” Faelan gave a sad soggy little laugh and slumped against the bed frame with all the drama of an angst-ridden teenager smarting over her first crush. She ought to be ashamed, but somehow, she wasn’t.
Faelan opened her hand. Quinn studied the waded piece of paper on her palm with raised eyebrows.
“Read it.”
Smoothing the wrinkled paper out against his knee, Quinn bent his head over the note, his lips moved. After a moment, he glanced up and met his sister’s red-rimmed eyes.