Dragon's Treasure (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 1)

by Isadora Montrose

  Leah chuckled. “It's so big. I keep getting lost. I seem to be in my own wing. And I can't even figure out how to get places without having to stop and ask people to help.” She ate another bite of eggs. “What about you, Steve, how long have you worked for Mr. Sarkany?”

  “Three years. Since I left the military.” Something in his tone suggested that he didn't want to talk about leaving the service.

  “Is bodyguarding as hard as soldiering?” she asked instead.

  Steve smiled. “It depends. It's different for damn sure. But it uses the same skill set.”

  “Except for the waiting on tables!” Leah chuckled.

  “I went to butler school,” he told her.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Mr. Sarkany wanted me undercover, and he is used to the best of European service.” Steve shrugged his broad shoulders. “At least it means I'm pretty much guaranteed a job if I lose this one. Provided I don't lose my employer with my employment. If you see what I mean?”

  “Is that likely?” Leah looked around her nervously.

  “Not here. But there are lots of places in the world where a guy as rich as Sarkany is a target. But this place is safe. There's no way on or off without being spotted by the radar on St. John's.”

  “Oh. What happens if there's a storm?”

  “You ride it out. The pantry's stocked and the generators have lots of fuel.” Steve reached a big hand across the table and patted Leah's plump one. “Don't fret. This house looks like it's made of palm leaves and twigs and glass, but it can withstand a hurricane.”

  “Really?”

  “You bet. When you have as much dough as the Sarkanys, you can buy the best engineering in the world. They had guys from Japan and Germany and I don't know what all. So I'm told. It was a bit before my time.” Steve closed his knife and fork and wiped his mouth.

  Leah poured them both more coffee and leaned back in her chair. She had a few minutes before Sarkany could reasonably expect her to begin work. She was beginning to get a bad feeling. If Hugo wanted to he could force her to remain here indefinitely. And he had been plenty annoyed yesterday. But really why would he bother?

  Steve began to regale her with stories of his adventures overseas, edited as she was perfectly aware for civilian ears. He was glib enough for her to realize he had told these tales many times. But, hey, that was cool. She had never heard them before. And his flirting was so practiced she knew it didn't mean anything. He was a nice guy, but he wasn't all that interested.

  It was more than pleasant to sit in the shade, listening to Steve's stories, with the sound of the surf crashing on to the rocks in the background. And she might as well enjoy this unexpected moment of peace, because she dreaded the looming confrontation with her boss. And it would be a confrontation. Sarkany liked have his way. He was used to it. Entitled? You bet. Look up entitled in any dictionary and there would be her boss's photo.

  Steve leaned forward a little. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “What's up? You're acting like you don't believe I single-handedly took out a nest of terrorists.”

  Leah blinked. She made a pretense of gaiety. “Well,” she drawled, “A Green Beret can handle most things single-handedly. It's just that if there were only twenty of them, it would have been more sporting to handicap yourself.”

  Steve smiled at her mild joke. But he put a big hand over one of hers. “If there's some kind of problem here, tell me. You're not much like the boss's usual trophy women. If you want out, I'll get you out.”

  “It's not quite as bad as that,” she assured him. “Let's just say, that he's giving me some grief, but I'm not ready to holler 'uncle' yet.”

  “If there's trouble,” Steve looked her straight in the eye, and she fully believed in that moment that he was a deadly warrior, trained for combat. “You holler and I'll have your back. You better have my cell number.”

  Leah looked up from inputting Steve's number to see Sarkany watching her from the shrubbery. Even with her sunglasses, the sun was dazzling. To her dismay his body language looked wrathful. For an instant his head seemed to dissolve into waves of heat and puffs of smoke. Then he turned abruptly on his heel and his rigid back vanished into the gardens.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hugo was feeling much jauntier after spending a pleasant night gliding high above Isle Balaur and relieving his feelings in a series of violent bursts of flame that scorched only the humid air. He had decided that his unusual response to Leah's distress was probably nothing more than a reaction to his change of location. Even a dragon could have a stomach-ache.

  When he had dressed and eaten, he went in search of his PA instead of sending for her. She was sitting on the broad patio outside her rooms. As he came out through the gardens, he heard her gurgling laugh. His spirits lifted further. She was done with her sulk.

  Leah was having breakfast with Steve Holden. Hugo looked in astonishment and fury at his bodyguard and his PA sitting across from one another at the same glass topped table. Leah was wearing another simple dress and her navy and white espadrilles. Her blonde hair was smoothed into a neat coil at the base of her neck. As usual, she looked delectable.

  Holden was not wearing his butler's uniform. His tight black tee-shirt clung to his muscled torso. The short sleeves exposed his thick arms and parts of the tattoos that circled both burly biceps. His aviator shades flashed and his deep voice was low and intimate as he leaned across the table towards Hugo's woman.

  Holden was bending his torso to shield Leah as a man does when he is pursuing a woman, and Leah was turning confidingly towards him. Holden put a huge tanned hand over her paler one. Hugo saw red. Quite literally. A film of scarlet obscured his eyes and flames licked at the edges of his vision. Smoke appeared in small grey puffs from his nostrils.

  Count Sarkany turned abruptly on his heel and returned to his wing in mortification. Never before had he lost control of his talent in public. That female had to be a witch. His brother might have told him that he had finally met his mate. It did not occur to him that what he was feeling was jealousy. It was a primitive emotion that had not previously been in his repertoire.

  * * *

  By the time he got to his office, Hugo's phone was burbling in his pocket. He whipped it out, prepared to annihilate his brother if this call was no emergency. “Yes,” he barked.

  “Good morning, to you too, big brother,” returned Ivan calmly.

  “Why have you interrupted me, youngling?” demanded Hugo in a smothered roar.

  “Because you've got trouble up the wazoo, Eldest. And I do mean trouble.” Ivan's tone was respectful but far from submissive.

  “Indeed.” Hugo controlled his raging emotions with sheer force of will. “If there is trouble, I will deal with it. Proceed.”

  “Not on this line,” Ivan responded seriously. “We need encryption level four. Higher if we've got it.”

  “I will call you back,” Hugo said and ended the call.

  He walked through the hidden door behind his desk. In moments he was locked in his soundproofed, bomb-proofed inner sanctum. The walls and roof of this chamber were six feet thick and windowless. It was a virtual bunker sheltered by the rest of the building, and intended as a safe room in case of an attack.

  Hugo sat down in his leather desk chair and turned on his computer. It took a few minutes, but he patiently entered the layers of passwords that got him access to the encrypted video calling he required. Security was a bitch. Time-consuming and slow, but oh so worth it to maintain your professional and personal secrets.

  Ivan was also in his safe room at the Schloss Sarkany in Switzerland. It looked much as Hugo's did. A long wooden desk bristled with technology. Another at right angles held a row of surveillance screens and command modules. A divan occupied one corner of the room. Doors concealed a washroom, a kitchen and a storage room.

  Ivan was reclining in his desk chair with an patently false air of ease. He sat straight up when Hugo's angry face appeared on his screen
. “Eldest,” he said respectfully, inclining his head. “You have been challenged.”

  Before Ivan's eyes, Hugo seemed to swell. “Who would dare?” he demanded.

  “Landor,” Ivan said succinctly. “Who else?”

  “Bah,” said Hugo. “The Council will never permit a challenge. Even if it were not the twenty-first century, I am still in mourning.”

  “The Council has allowed it. The High Marshal would not hear my appeal. Landor is claiming the Dragon's Blood. He says it is the rightful prize of his line.”

  Hugo contained his wrath, he had already lost control once today. Count Sarkany never lost control. His mighty chest expanded but he contained his blast of fire. “Vadim of Montenegro has insulted our house twice,” he said through lips that barely moved. “Once when he permitted my mourning period to be violated by that skyworm, Landor, and once when he refused to hear my Right Arm.”

  “Vadim claims you are not truly Eldest of the House of Sarkany,” Ivan said. “He says you have omitted the necessary ceremonies and rituals, leaving our House leaderless. Therefore, you have no right to mourn. And he didn't have to hear my appeal because I too have no standing. If you are not Eldest, then I'm not your Right Arm.”

  “How did that thug, Vadim, ever become High Marshal?” marvelled Hugo.

  “If you will recall, when our grandsire retired as High Marshal, he was succeeded by Lord Verm of Bavaria. Vadim of Montenegro was elected in the confusion following Lord Verm's unexpected death.”

  “In secret session, if memory serves,” said Hugo.

  “In secret session,” Ivan confirmed. “I think you have forgotten how much the Grand Council has changed in recent years. Most of the old guard has resigned since our grandsire's day. The Council is full of youngsters with no knowledge of tradition.”

  “And fewer brains.”

  “As you say, Eldest. But Vadim is High Marshal now. And he has packed the Grand Council with his relatives and those dragons loyal to him.”

  Hugo growled. “Has he?”

  “He has. Landor's challenge was authorized with scarcely a voice raised in opposition.

  “Our cousin Landor has made his last mistake,” announced Hugo coldly. “I will blast that deceitful, pipsqueak lizard into the last century. He will never live to breathe another lie. The Dragon's Blood is mine, and I hold what is mine.”

  “That is the family motto,” agreed Ivan cheerfully. “But Prince Maximilian of Landor has been a cheat from the nest. He won't fight fair.”

  “Landor may be our cousin, but he has no claim on any of our hoard. What grounds did he give for his challenge?”

  “He claims to be the lineal descendant of Casimir the fourth Count—through Casimir's daughter. Whereas you and I trace our lineage through Casimir's nephew.”

  “He expects us to surrender our treasure on the basis of a four hundred year old claim? He must be mad. And the Grand Council took this seriously?” Disbelief warred with anger in Hugo's voice.

  “Lindorm and his son are the oldest members now. I think that the younger Council members thought the challenge was a lively joke that spiced up another boring meeting. They certainly approved the challenge without any real debate. And they allowed Landor to set the terms. Moreover, Vadim has given the go ahead for a trial by single combat.” Ivan dropped his bombshell.

  “A duel? In this day and age? Vadim must have run mad. The Grand Council is supposed to prevent dueling, not encourage it.” Hugo kept his voice level with an effort.

  “Most of these dragons have never seen a dragon battle. And they don't even know the rules. They let Landor and Vadim run rough shod over all the protocol. Most of it designed to make sure dragons never settle disputes with fire.”

  “Vadim forgets that if I am not in truth Lord Sarkany, ninth of my line, I owe the Council and its High Marshal no obedience.”

  Ivan's gold eyes opened wide. He swallowed. “Do you wish me to tell him so?”

  Hugo shook his well-groomed head. “No, Right Arm. You have no standing,” he said ironically. “I shall ask Roland Voros to speak for me.”

  Ivan laughed. “They will have to hear Lord Voros if he chooses to speak. He will get this sorted. Or at least make sure it takes place in accordance with Dragon Law.” He paused. “Vadim has set the venue and the date already.”

  “Without consulting the defender?” Hugo was disdainful.

  “Landor located some dot in the South China Seas, so new and small it has no name. He's demands aerial combat at the next full moon.”

  For the first time Hugo looked nonplussed. “He wants us to fight in dragon, in the air, in the teeth of a gale?” he asked incredulously. “The boy must be mad. And the Council went along with that?”

  “Reluctantly. Vadim made it a loyalty test. If they objected, they would be doubting his impartiality and honor. Only old Lindorm and his son voted against it. But Vadim can't touch the House of Lindorm.”

  “We are in the debt of the House of Lindorm, Right Arm,” Hugo said formally.

  “Our obligation is undying, Eldest,” responded Ivan in the ancient formula.

  “Bring me the Dragon's Blood, Right Arm,” said Hugo. “Let me look at the oldest treasure of our house.”

  * * *

  A housemaid that Leah had not seen before escorted her to the door of Hugo's office. The impressive mahogany double doors were nine feet high and four feet wide. And the rest of Hugo's complex appeared to be wrapped around the office space. Gloria, the housemaid, put her forefinger on a touch pad and the latch clicked. She pushed at one of the doors and waved Leah through.

  “Mr. Hugo, is in his office,” she said waving at a matching set of doors at the end of the large anteroom. “You call for me if you need help to find your room when you are done.” Gloria nodded briskly and headed back to finish her dusting.

  The room to which Leah had been led was windowless. There was not even a skylight. Two long off-white leather couches sat back to back in the center. There was no other furniture.

  The lack of natural light was compensated for by clever lighting and pale grass cloth walls and superb works of art. Could that really be a Renoir? Leah wondered. She peered at a pearly skinned young woman peeping coyly from beneath the plume of her wide-brimmed bonnet. Yup. That certainly was what the signature indicated. Leah was confident that Hugo would scorn to hang fakes on his walls.

  She walked to the other end of the anteroom and knocked on the equally imposing doors to the office. When there was no answer, she knocked louder. Nothing. She tried the knob. Locked. Shrugging she began to walk around the room looking at the paintings on the walls. Hugo had several fortunes worth of Impressionist art hanging in this room. Was this why he had excluded the tropical sun?

  Monet's and Matisses made room for van Goghs and Gauguins. No wonder Sarkany was such an arrogant prick. He was richer than—she didn't know who. Some guy in ancient history. Trump wasn't even in his league. Leah decided that if she was standing in an art museum she had better take advantage of it. She had a feeling none of these treasures was ever lent to any public gallery.

  Leah had gone around the room twice, and counted the pictures—twenty-four—and gone back to have a third and fourth look at some. There was still no sign of Hugo. She attempted another knock. Nothing. Was he busy? Or was he teaching her a lesson? He was arrogant, ruthless and powerful. And he could be such an asshole. The mystery was why she felt no real fear of him.

  Leah sat down on the sofa in front of Monet's water lilies—it was a better painting than the two by him in the Atlanta High Museum of Art. Yup, Sarkany had more money than Bill Gates. No wonder he was such a ruthless jerk.

  She swiped at her tablet and put in her password. Fortunately she always had her good friends at Amazon to keep her company. Or coding to do. Sarkany could pay her to read or to freelance. Except that she had no Wi-Fi in this room. Shrugging, Leah scrolled through her books and found the new Jane Cleland that she had downloaded to read on Isle Balaur.
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  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ivan got up from his desk and walked over to the wall of the Schloss's safe room. He pressed the stone wall in the correct place, and part of it slid aside to reveal the digital lock beneath. He depressed a button and input the code when the screen lit up. Another panel opened and he looked directly into a blinking light. When his irises had been scanned, a chest high door silently opened.

  Ivan reached into the safe and removed a worn green leather case from among the many others. He brought it to his desk with reverent hands and stood waiting for his instructions.

  “Open it, Right Arm,” directed Hugo, his eyes riveted on the shabby jewel case.

  Ivan flicked the catch. Nestled on a bed of pleated gold satin lay a massive necklace of blood red rubies sparkling and flashing. The old rose gold links and prongs that held the stones were chunky and barbaric, but the sight of his family heirloom brought a possessive smile to Hugo's hard face.

  “It's a thousand pities you have no mate,” said Ivan lifting the necklace and dangling it from one large hand. The diamonds that encircled the central egg-sized ruby scattered dazzling light. “If you had already bestowed this on your bride, not even Vadim of Montenegro would suggest you turn it over to him.”

  “I have no plan to marry,” said Hugo haughtily. “Whether or not I have a Bride, the necklace is ours. Voros will so inform the Council. I shall ask him to be my Left Arm.”

  “Excellent. If it comes to combat, Landor's seconds won't like having to face Roland Voros. And he's so reclusive, Vadim and Landor have probably have forgotten all about him.”

  “I will ask him within the hour, Right Arm. Now we must watch our flank. That little weasel, Landor, will have planned an attack on our business interests to distract us. I want a report in an hour on any suspicious activities, no matter how small, everywhere that Sarkan Industries operates.”

  “I'm ahead of you, brother,” Ivan replied. “I'm sending you a list right now. We've had a run of bad luck in the last three days. Nothing major, but I sense a story about to break. We need some good news to release to counter whatever devilry the House of Landor is hatching.”