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

by Isadora Montrose

  “We have had a pleasant visit,” Roland assured her, which didn't begin to answer her question.

  “I will escort you to your room, Beloved” Hugo said solicitously. “I have a gift for you.”

  Another gift! Hugo had already given her a lifetime supply of jewels. He seemed to delight in finding some new trinket in his overflowing hoard. He had safes everywhere, all filled to bursting it seemed to her with jewels and sacks of coins.

  “Do you remember the combination?” he asked as they stood before the safe in her room.

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Open it, my darling. I found a box for you to keep your jewelry in.” Hugo sounded boyish and happy. He placed a little chest on her palms.

  Leah admired it. “Is this real ivory?” she asked in disbelief.

  “It is. Twelfth century.” A long forefinger traced the carving on the top where a dragon was defeated by a mounted knight wielding a lance four times as long as his horse. The coils of the dragon's tail wound around the lance that pierced his heart.

  “This is St. George,” Hugo said. “Slaying a dragon. As you have slain your dragon. Do you like your namesake?” He pointed to the other panels.

  They were mellowed to a rich yellow, and had cracked with age. Wood showed through the gaps and at the back a piece had fallen off revealing a square of dark brown. But on the remaining panels saints raised their hands in blessing or knelt in prayer.

  “Where did you get it?” she had asked suspiciously. Because it sure looked like something out of a church.

  “I belonged to one of my ancestors.”

  “He robbed a church!” she accused.

  Hugo looked hurt but he shrugged lightly. “Possibly. Or commissioned it. Or bought it. You may rest easy, the original owner of that casket is long dead. No one living has any claim to it but me.”

  “It should be in a museum!” she objected.

  Hug shook his head. “It would never go on display,” His long fingers stroked the cracked and yellowed ivory with great delicacy and appreciation. “As beautiful as it is, it isn't perfect enough. It would wind up in some drawer or storage box with all the other artifacts not good enough to put in the cases.

  “These were a dime a dozen in their heyday. This wasn't made for some great monastery or church. At the monastery of Lindisfarne, for example, this would have been a very minor reliquary. The focus of some aristocratic monk's private prayers. Not the decoration of even the smallest chapel.

  “But whoever used it was a true devotee of St. George,” he assured her.

  “How can you know that if you don't know where it came from?”

  He looked surprised. “It's part of my gift,” he said simply. “I can also feel the frustration of the carver.” He put a finger on a snarling lion. “Do you see where his knife slipped and he made the lion's mouth wider on one side. He had to do penance for his error—but I can't tell if that was for swearing or bad workmanship.”

  “You're making that up!'

  Hugo looked directly at her. Nope, he wasn't lying and he was deeply offended at the suggestion that he might.

  “I'm sorry.” Leah touched his hand with hers.

  “Enjoy it Beloved. Keep your jewelry in it,” said Hugo, “And store it in your safe.”

  She cautiously flipped it open, lifting the silver latch carefully. The inside was polished wood. A modern strip of black velvet had been cut to fit but not glued down. The hinges were solid silver. Like the latch, they were heavy and outsized for the delicacy of the box, but they opened and closed easily.

  As certainly as she knew anything, she could sense the pride in the silversmith who had made them and etched the flowing patterns that decorated them. He had been proud and happy to be providing the hardware for a holy object. She was so startled by this new way of knowing that she nearly dropped her box.

  Hugo's hand steadied hers and he gave her a knowing smile. “Let's put your jewels inside,” he said.

  Together they arranged the necklaces and earrings he had bestowed on her. No bracelet she noted. And only the one ring. “Are you giving me a starter Hoard?” she teased, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  He looked so pleased at her words that she didn't have the heart to tell him that she had been making fun of him.

  His fingers fondled Poppy's pearl earrings. “Where did you get these?” he asked softly, bracing himself for her answer.

  “My grandfather got them in Vietnam and gave them to Grammy. I inherited them.”

  Hugo could breathe again. “They are truly lovely,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “I have to speak with Ivan and Roland before they go.” He pulled her into his arms for a kiss that spoke of possession and happiness.

  When he left, her whole body was humming with unsatisfied lust and an even greater sense of connectedness. That guy was good.

  * * *

  “My mourning will be over next June,” Hugo told Leah at dinner.

  “Hmm,” she said and looked a question.

  “And I believe that it will then have been thirteen months since your grandmother left this world?”

  “She died at the end of April,” Leah said softly.

  “And it is still a grief to you.” Hugo's voice was very gentle. “Have you marked her passing with all the rites of your people?”

  “We had a funeral, if that is what you mean? But her ashes are sitting on a shelf in my living room.”

  Hugo looked shocked. “But not by your choice?”

  “When I can afford to, I will bury her with Poppy.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Until then she gets to sit on my bookcase.”

  “We must attend to this at once.” Hugo looked appalled. “I had no idea. You must plan a ceremony and arrange for your grandmother to be reunited with her husband.” He held out a hand to her and waited until she placed hers in his. “Forgive me.”

  “How were you supposed to know?” Leah asked.

  “Do you think I did not know that your soul was weighed with deep sorrow? But I believed that it was the loss of your only relative. But this delayed interment is a separate grief. We will return to Atlanta as soon as this other matter is settled. I promise you.”

  “And what other matter would that be?” she asked sweetly. Hadn't she knows that he was hiding something?

  Hugo looked taken aback. “Roland and Ivan are announcing our betrothal. Until that is concluded, it is best if we stay here.”

  Leah looked indignantly at Hugo.

  “What is it My Heart?” he asked instantly.

  “You know very well I haven't agreed to marry you!”

  “But you will. It is fated, Beloved. Do you think it is mere happenstance that you and I are so attuned that we can fly together like one soul?” Hugo hand tightened on hers. “You are my bride and will be the mother of my sons,” he swore.

  Leah's hand found her stomach in alarm. But she knew she shouldn't really worry. Her back had been aching all day, so she knew she wasn't pregnant—not this month. She shook her head at Hugo. “I can't marry a guy who has had more mistresses than I have had hot dinners!”

  “No other woman will ever entice me now that I have known your sweetness,” he assured her.

  Leah looked admiringly at him. “You're good. Very good. I wonder how many other women have heard those same words?”

  “None,” he swore hand on heart. “To none but you have I ever given my heart. And it is in your keeping until death shall sunder our bond.” He smiled at her. “When we have buried your grandmother's ashes, we will plan such celebrations of our union as the world has not seen in a hundred years.”

  * * *

  “As we discussed, I have asked Lindorm to supply us with a coterie of sword bearers,” Roland told Hugo. They were speaking over video. Hugo in his office and Roland in his private plane.

  “Very good,” Hugo was purring—his plans to discomfit Vadim and Landor were moving along according to plan, and his obstinate Leah
was at last bowing to fate.

  “Wake up Sarkany,” the video screen snapped. “You're not listening to a word I'm saying.”

  Hugo started. He inclined his head in apology. “My mind wandered, Left Arm. What were you saying?”

  “Lindorm and his sons cannot support us—it would be unseemly to drag such venerable elders on such an errand. But even Lindorm can only raise a half dozen striplings. He has twelve grandsons, but the eldest is only twenty-two.”

  “Dress them lavishly and tell them to keep their mouths shut and their eyes and ears open,” Hugo instructed. “Do you go in full regalia?”

  Roland shook his head. “I think not. We will have to travel through airports. I thought business suits would create less stir. But I had hoped for a swarm of dragons to impress the High Marshal.”

  “It will be sufficient if those young Lindorms have their grandsire's mighty shoulders and long limbs.” said Hugo.

  “They are not yet full grown, but they are tall and husky lads. It's just that they are inexperienced.”

  “Do you expect attack, Left Arm?” asked Hugo in surprise.

  “I do. I no longer know what is driving Vadim. He has always been a slick, double-dealing villain, working behind the scenes. Why has he shown his animosity so plainly in this matter?”

  “Over confidence?” Hugo suggested. “Desperation?”

  “Possibly. But I think we are missing something. All I know is that this doesn't feel like a ceremonial occasion. It feels like going into battle.”

  Hugo raised his brows. “If your intuition warns you, Roland, heed it. Caution your small blaze of dragons to be ready defend themselves—to take to the skies if necessary. Vadim of Montenegro is a treacherous bandit and you are heading into his stronghold.”

  “Of course. I have taken every precaution, but I still feel I have missed some vital clue.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Hugo left his bride sleeping and headed to his office as soon as he decently could. The sky was still pale and the sun was well below the horizon, but he had spent a restless night worrying about his messengers. Surely even Vadim of Montenegro would not be so dastardly as to assault visitors?

  Hugo growled. He wished he knew why he was so uneasy. He might as well have stayed in bed with Leah. Because even a cranky, achy Leah who didn't want to play was better than no Leah at all. Every instinct was still tingling. He had to stop thinking about romping with his luscious Georgia Peach and concentrate on finding out what was putting him on high alert.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Hugo was checking email and surreptitiously keeping an eye on Leah. She was most unfortunately not pregnant and she was in pain. Every time she felt a twinge, a matching agony pierced him. She seemed to be stoically going through the material he had asked her to help with. So, either he was feeling sharper pains, or she was used to these stabbing pains, or he was getting a double dose. He felt miserable and out of sorts—and just why had grandfather never mentioned this aspect of bonding with your mate?

  An alert from Ivan distracted him from his brooding. Ivan and Roland had outfitted their blaze of dragons and all were en route to Vadim's mountain fastness in Montenegro. They were using the Sarkan Industries corporate jet.

  All was well. Roland's report on Lindstrom's boys was that they were proving sensible and dignified despite their youth. So why did Hugo feel this tingle of unease?

  Stay alert, he emailed back. Watch your back.

  Watch the sky. Ivan responded. Now what did he mean by that?

  I want hourly updates, Hugo wrote. Vadim wouldn't dare attack a party of heralds that contained the heir to the house of Sarkany, Lord Voros and six scions of the house of Lindorm. Would he?

  Anxiety and pain knotted his stomach. Hugo glared across at Leah who was placidly typing. Before he had bonded with her, he had never had such feelings.

  “What?” she said lifting her head from her monitor.

  “I'm worried about Roland and Ivan,” he blurted.

  Leah nodded. “They'll be fine,” she reassured him. “Air crashes are rare. Driving is far more dangerous.”

  “True enough.” But statistically speaking dragon attacks weren't on the books. Had he sent his brother and his friend into ambush?

  The afternoon dragged on. Ivan texted him from the air. All was well. Not even turbulence disturbed their trip.

  His empire marched stolidly on. Plants manufactured goods. Shipping sailed on time. The stock market continued to love his investments. But Hugo's unease would not go away.

  “I'm pretty much done,” said Leah. Behind her a printer whirred again. “I need your signature on some of them, and I'm not sure if you want me to reply to Okamoto quite as harshly as I have. And the funeral director has reserved October third for Grammy's service.”

  Okamoto was soon dealt with and Leah clearly expected them to leave the office together. But Hugo was still uneasy.

  “Why don't you have a swim before the sun sets?” he suggested.

  Leah wrinkled her nose at him. “I won't be swimming for a few more days,” she said primly. “But I might go outside and read on the patio.”

  “I'll tell Holden.”

  “I don't need to be watched,” she said irritated.

  “Guarded,” he corrected. “You are precious to me. I need to know you are safe.”

  “I am not your possession, Hugo Sarkany!”

  Hugo was on his feet, sweeping Leah into his arms before he thought. “You are mine,” he declared. “My dearest treasure, never doubt it.” He kissed her greedily trying to relieve his rising sense of anxiety and assure himself of what he did not know? Her love? Surely she loved him? Had he not given her his heart? Showered her with jewels? Fulfilled her desires? What more could she demand?

  Leah kissed him back instinctively. Being close to Hugo always muddled her clear thoughts. She barely breathed until he set her from him and growled, “Go, I still have work to do.”

  “Don't order me about,” she yelled as she flounced out the doors.

  She was halfway to her rooms before it dawned on her that she was not the sort of female who shouted or flounced. Hugo Sarkany was changing her from the inside out—and not it seemed for the better. She felt calmer when she had settled on her patio on a lounger with her tablet. Reading always relaxed her and she was soon in another place, sharing the adventures of spunky Josie Prescott.

  Why couldn't she have fallen for a man like Josie's stalwart lawman? Why had she given her heart to an arrogant Dragon Lord who just wanted some sons? She was nothing more to Hugo Sarkany than another collectible.

  * * *

  “The sea is like glass today,” Hugo informed her at breakfast her three days later. “I thought I would take you snorkeling before it gets really hot. We can take care of a little business in the office this afternoon. And finalize the arrangements to bury your grandmother's ashes.”

  “I'd like to see the reef,” she said eagerly.

  Hugo supplied her with a mask and flippers, and Holden checked the small inflatable that they were going to use to go out to the reef.

  “I thought you said boats couldn't approach the island,” she said to the bodyguard.

  “This isn't a boat,” said Holden. “It's barely a raft. Has no draft at all. And the boss knows where the currents are slow enough to make it from this beach to the island side of the reef. But if a boat tried to approach from open water, the waves would swamp it and sweep it onto the reefs.”

  Hugo put his arm around Leah's bare round shoulders. He smiled into her worried face. “We'll be fine. I've done this hundreds of times. Just don't touch anything. Live corals can sting you.”

  It was fun. Hugo tethered the inflatable to a pole that stuck up from the sea floor. And he led her over the corals. A dozen differently colored fish darted and swam, indifferent to their audience. Huge fanlike pink corals grew alongside small horned specimens the size of her hand. Tiny filaments swept the air. Twice Hugo drew her back to
evade their delicate probing.

  She had seen photographs of reefs before, but up close was infinitely better. This was a magical world. Hot pink fish the size of her thumb zipped in and out of miniature caverns in the coral. They seemed unaffected by the toxic appendages they hid in, but the predatory clown fish that pursued them kept a wary distance.

  Starfishes sprawled like great, limp, pink flowers across white coral that resembled nothing so much as brains. The spectrum of colors awed and amazed her. To think that if she just accepted Hugo's proposal she could share in this slice of paradise forever.

  She could have hovered there forever, but Hugo nudged her and indicated that they should return to the inflatable. The sun was getting high, and even with all the sunblock she had used she was going to burn. She was very glad to put her beach wrap on and cover up her arms and shoulders.

  “I think I'm sunburned,” she said.

  “Perhaps. I should have remembered that delicate skin of yours.” Hugo was expertly guiding their little craft back the way they had come. The small motor was barely making any wake they were moving so slowly.

  Leah felt entirely at peace, and wholly, totally in love with her most unsuitable lover.

  * * *

  “I really enjoyed the reef,” Leah said at dinner. “It's fabulous.”

  “It is. There are two species of shrimp living there that are found nowhere else in the Caribbean.”

  “Weird. Did we see any shrimp?” Leah wrinkled her nose at him.

  “I didn't, but they are there. I have a tame marine biologist who spends every summer cataloging my reef. When Trevor Gilroy writes up his PhD thesis, he's hoping to have named more than those two shrimp.” Hugo smiled at Leah and raised his glass to her. “Here's to many more visits to that wonderland.”

  She sipped her sweet tea and smiled back at him. “Have you heard from Ivan and Roland?”

  He shook his head. “It's a twelve hour flight and they won't arrive in Montenegro until tomorrow afternoon. Morning to us.”

  “Where exactly is Montenegro?”

  “It's on the coast of the Adriatic Sea, close—by our standards—to Kosovo.”

  “Oh.”