And him.
A shiver rolled down her body the same time her covering slipped. When her fog-filled mind told her to glance down, she realized she was naked. She grabbed the edge of what appeared to be a fur and clutched it to her breasts. She must have lost her dress and boots to the sea, but where was her chemise?
“Yer covering was soaked with salt water.”
Did I speak aloud?
She pulled the fur higher as she strove to remember how she got into this predicament.
“I can make a fire if ye need that scrap of cloth to dry, but there are other things about. Ye are lucky to have climbed above the waves.”
“I thought about running farther into the cave—“
“There is no higher ground nearby. Ye would have drowned.”
“Where is the creature that attacked me?”
His eyes dipped, no longer meeting her stare.
She followed his gaze to where her toes peeked from beneath the covers. She drew them back under the fur. Had the appearance of naked skin caused him to stop speaking? A chill slipped down her spine. The air surrounding them moved as if a living, breathing thing. The odors swirled from sweet to salty to sour. Her stomach clenched.
She recognized the odor of wet ash and glanced at a cold fire pit. Brianna’s gaze swept back and locked on his handsome face. As she took in his strong, proud features, the memory of the horror eased. She swallowed once again.
“Ye did no’ see the thing with gleaming talons? It is what drew me upward into—”
“Yer safe with me.”
He had not answered her question. In fact, he acted as if she should ignore the subject. Was she truly safe in his presence? His wide shoulders and bulging biceps shouted strength. And why did the mention of a great, clawed beast have no affect on him? Did he know how to keep the creature at bay?
“Are ye hungry?”
Shocked out of her inner argument, Brianna nodded. The stranger, who had not bothered to share his name or exchange simple pleasantries, disappeared down a hole in the floor.
When curiosity, which, along with the need to gather prettily shaped driftwood had caused this latest mishap, got the better of her, she crawled to the edge. Should she make use of her wits and find a means of escape, or stay here and wait for the unknown?
If only Gregor had no’ forced me to accompany him and his hunting companions to this horrid island.
She had no right to blame her guardian. He provided a home, clothes, and food. She should not have strayed from the stretch of beach near their camp. She had ignored the sea’s power in order to collect wood for Cook’s fire, but she would not continue to dwell on the path not chosen.
What choice had I on this treeless island?
She had best work on getting safely home, and as soon as earthly possible.
The tide had come in. When it receded, she would head back to camp. She had to hope her absence went unnoticed.
“I will cook this.”
Brianna jumped at his voice, and grasped the fur to her chest. Pain sliced through several injured fingertips, stealing her breath. When she slid several fingers into her mouth and sucked them clean of salt and blood, the stranger stared at her mouth.
He turned, and walked with a rigid gait toward a small fire. It crackled and spit in the tiny pit by the farthest wall. A fish cooked over the flames.
How had he caught a fish? When had he started a fire? As she contemplated these notions, she realized that sitting on a pallet in a dank corner was not the place to be when warmth and food beckoned.
Dragging her feet under her, she rose. Clinging to the silky fur, she wrapped it around her body, and stepped off the pallet. The dirt floor chilled the naked soles of her feet. As she padded toward the fire, the dampness grew less intrusive. Heat warmed the cave floor and the smoky air warmed her lungs.
She coughed.
The strange man crouched beside the fire. As she approached, his muscles rippled beneath his vest. She tiptoed closer to the fire and relished the warmth radiating from the growing flames. Tinder snapped and smoke swirled, yet he ignored her presence.
Since the man seemed occupied with some task, she glanced around this end of the cave. A chest sat on some crates in the shadows to her left. He had mentioned other clothing, which might lie inside.
Clutching the fur around her body, she walked toward the scarred trunk and struggled to raise the lid with her free hand. Stubborn with age and rust, the lid refused to budge. Brianna grunted and shoved with all her might in a most unladylike fashion, to no avail.
“Allow me, my lady.” A large hand pushed her aside with a gentle shove. The touch of his cold skin on her bare forearm blasted her with a vision that threw her to her knees. Within the fog of her premonition, two bodies gyrated in mutual ecstasy on a bed of damp sand. In shadow, their tongues slipped between each other’s lips while their hands touched, stroked, and caressed. The passionate purring of their enraptured moans filled Brianna with the sensation of shared, utter joy.
Just as quickly as it appeared, the fog cleared and her vision faded. She regained her footing and stood, swaying. The fur slid to her waist. She grabbed it, pulling its barrier around her frozen body.
“Are ye ill?”
His arms slipped around her shoulders. As he led her back toward the small bed, she pushed out of his grasp and collapsed onto the fur-covered pallet. The contents of her stomach, mainly seawater, threatened to resurface.
Brianna shook with such violence she barely noticed when he sat beside her until he gathered her into his chest. His entire body caressed her in a cocoon of heat. A soft moan escaped her quivering lips.
How could his touch go from ice cold to flame with such speed?
“I swallowed as much sea water as that fish. I shall be fine. Might I trouble ye for a sip of fresh water?” When he glared at her, she prayed his features would soften. Could her recent vision pertain to him? If so, who was the woman he caressed? If he and the man in her vision were the same, her outcome seemed grim.
Then he smiled, and swept away all worry.
A different sort of heat fused her legs together. Moisture formed between her thighs and a shocking tingle spread across her breasts. Could this man be dangerous in many ways?
She recognized the signs, particularly his outsized masculinity and her reaction to his pleasant scent. She dealt with the friends of her adopted laird, as well as the warriors who visited the tower.
She knew enough of what occurs between a man and a woman to keep her distance from men such as those in Gregor’s hunting party. A few assumed servants came with the meal. She, Cook, and the other servant, Nia, accompanied the sailors to this island. Nia liked men, but Brianna did her best to avoid their unwanted clutches.
“I will no’ hurt ye.”
He released her and turned away. She followed him with her gaze as he marched back toward the fire.
Did I voice my concerns out loud?
He impaled another fish with a stick, and then laid the skewered meat across the flames. The aroma of seared flesh and bitter smoke filled the tiny cave. Were his words a simple statement? Or, had he read her thoughts?
Again.
The trunk lid stood propped open. She staggered to her feet once more and padded over to it to investigate what lay inside the old chest. He appeared beside her, holding a burning torch.
“Some light might help.”
“My thanks,” she whispered as she stepped aside.
“What is wrong?”
His gaze searched her face for an answer to his question. Partially in shadow under the tiny flaming twig, a furrowed brow above eyes black as pitch brought a tremble coursing through her limbs. She stood naked beside him but for a drooping fur. She wanted to run, yet the urge to know him better won out.
Someday, curiosity might be her downfall. Cook frequently admonished her for this flaw. Her guardian warned her to heed his words of caution as well. He demanded she keep her body pure so as not to e
ndanger her gift of premonitions. She shrugged away thoughts of her obligations to the clan and asked a question burning in her mind.
“What be yer name?” she asked.
When his attention to her face altered, and he glanced down her body, Brianna clenched the fur much tighter. His concentration strayed even lower to where her ankles and feet were naked under his scrutiny.
Oh, dear.
“I wish to send thanks to yer master,” she explained, though it was a lie. He might believe her untruth since such a poor, half-dressed fisherman must have a guardian or laird on whom she might pretend to bestow her appreciation.
Unless…
He threw the flaming torch to the dirt. Only the sputtering coals of the fire pit glowed from the corner as he stepped closer. When he grabbed her forearms, Brianna gasped.
“I answer to no one.”
The moment he touched her, another violent vision thrust her back several more steps.
CHAPTER 3
Brianna’s naked back slapped against the icy, black wall beyond. Had he pushed her once more? Impossible. The man stood still several feet away. He rubbed both his hands down his leather-clad thighs as if attempting to clean her scent from his flesh.
She followed his movements as if she stared through a fog. Strange sounds echoed through the dark cave, or did they eminent from inside the mist? Blinded by a gray haze, the snap of a leathery tail assailed her senses while the whip of beating wings chilled her bones. Then she saw her own image melt into the handsome stranger. He kissed her image!
As sudden as it began, the vision faded to dust.
Unaffected by the image he must not have been able to see, the stranger returned to the fire. She stared at his back as she willed the vision to fade from memory. He rotated the spit and poured water on the fish to keep it from charring. Steam and splattering drops made her wet her lips.
“May I have a sip?”
His answering grunt propelled her to his side. The vision had lasted mere seconds, and the look in his eyes during that daydream gave her courage. He had not gazed upon her in anger, but with another emotion she did not fully understand.
When she bent down to take the cup from his hands, he held tight. Their eyes met once more. Heat again washed over her and curled her toes. Could he hear her heart thumping? Every speck of skin came alive with the unfamiliar spark of passion.
“Leave me,” he whispered.
“What? I—”
“Leave my side before I am driven to do something we shall both regret.”
Though barely audible, his words sped across the space between their bodies. Heat pooled inside her womb. Her tingling fingers urged to stroke his furrowed temples. The yearning to comfort his pain gripped her with a foreign need.
Clutching the cup in her hands, Brianna stepped back. As she sipped, her throat cleared and her stomach settled. She shook her head and thought about the truth in his words.
I stand here half-naked and wonder why he reacts in such a way? He is but a man.
A low growl echoed off the walls of her prison. A prison, since she had no idea how to escape the confines of this small cave with the cavern filled with one very large, possibly angry man. Not while all but naked.
Heeding his advice, she retreated to the chest. Not surprisingly, the stranger followed. With slow sips, she waited his next move while ignoring his low growl. She had not long to wait before he surprised her once again.
He leaned above her head and propped another torch in a crack in the wall. When he turned to retreat once more, Brianna mumbled her thanks. Using the available light to investigate the chest, she studied it closely.
It was made of salt-stained leather with brass trim in need of a good shine. She ran her fingertips along wide scratch marks where the latch and its padlock should be.
How did they break off? By the action of the sea? Or, by a claw?
A roll of parchment lay on top of a pile of robes and blankets. She untied the ribbon and discovered several drawings. She stared at the fine bones and sparkling eyes of a young woman. The sketch, crude and hastily done, was filled with raw emotion from the top of her curls to the low sweep of her full bodice. She smiled once more at the parchment, and then retied the strip of yellowed lace.
The delicate lace slipped through her fingers and a fleeting memory caused her heart to beat a little faster. Brianna saw yellow ribbons entwined in a pony’s mane. When had she owned a pony? Impossible!
For as long as her memory could recall, she had lived the penniless life of the ward and servant of Laird Gregor Macleod. Might these flashes of memory be of an older time? An earlier life?
Inhaling sharply, Brianna clutched the roll of parchment and its ribbon to her chest. The fuzzy image of a small child, with the freedom to gallop through a brilliant green forest, filled her mind. Fragrant flowers and sparkling days filled with love and smiles felt so real.
With a sigh, she shrugged off such fanciful dreams and returned to the task of finding suitable clothing. The ocean waves had battered her chemise and body. The deep had claimed her boots and servant’s frock. Aches coursed through her limbs, but someone had cleansed her wounds. She prayed this trunk held something in the way of women’s clothing, as the fur left much uncovered.
Brianna pulled a long length of wool out next. More than a heavy wool blanket, the intricately woven plaid announced a clansman’s garb, yet she did not recognize the tribe. The striped pattern’s colors melted together into a gray mass under the flickering firelight.
She draped the great plaid over the trunk’s edge, and then gasped as she pulled out a wisp of delicate fabric. The gown shimmered like silk, and she wished she could name the color, but the dim light kept its secret. A fragile chemise, trimmed with lace, lay beneath the gown. Then, she discovered a pair of slippers wrapped inside a soft, dark, cloak. She rubbed one shoe against her cheek. The downy sensation was reminiscent of a newborn fawn’s skin.
With the possibility of such wonders still to uncover, Brianna dragged everything out of the chest. Movement at the corner of her eye made her turn around, but her handsome cook disappeared the moment she blinked. The cooked fish lay on a platter of beaten silver garnished with fragrant apple slices. Her empty stomach growled.
Had he disappeared so she could dress in private? Not one to question fate, she dropped the fur, as she slipped the chemise over her head. The weightless fabric shimmied down her length and hugged her curves. She raised the heavier softness of the fine gown. Clean fabric, soft as spun silk, tumbled over her head and shoulders and glided down her breasts and hips. Relief lightened her heart. Though tight around the hips and bosom, it would suffice until she returned to camp.
“Lovely.” He strode past her and crouched beside the platter of fish without another word.
“Oh! Ye are returned.” He placed two metal tankards on the platter before he again rose to his full height.
“My, ye are a big—”
“A big what?” His shoulders tensed.
“A big man.” Had he thought she dare insult him? Earlier, she witnessed him flinch when she mentioned his master. Why had he not yet presented her with his name?
“I am called Draco.”
Again, he acted as if he had read her mind. She must learn to curb her thoughts around this handsome man.
Was he smiling? Drat it all, the man did it again.
She walked back toward the pallet and threw the borrowed fur down where it formed the shape of a seal. How could a mere man capture and kill such an agile animal? Draco appeared at her shoulder. Brianna tensed.
“Allow me.”
Before she could ask why he required her permission, icy fingertips buttoned the back of her dress. Frozen in shock at this tenderness, and with his lack of propriety, she felt each movement as he worked his way toward her neck. At one point, he casually brushed aside her hair to complete his task.
She whimpered.
“Eat,” he said, bending to pick up the platter of
food and drink.
One simple word, but it washed over her to ease her sour stomach. A smile nudged at her lips when she realized she missed his touch.
“I am quite hungry. Thank ye, sir.” She took the offered tankard, and sipped. Surprise made her eyes widen at the sweet taste of apples, mingled with a touch of nutmeg. And cinnamon?
“Is this cider?”
“Aye. I found a cask in another cave. Drink up.”
Carefully folding her gown to the side, she knelt on the furs. He sat, cross-legged, beside her. Following his example, she pulled bits of fish from the carcass with her fingers. She longed for a cloth napkin, since she did not want to ruin her fine gown. With a sigh of resignation, Brianna licked her fingers.
The stranger’s hand froze in midair, between his supper and his mouth. When she glanced at his face, she caught him staring with another type of hunger. His attention focused on her fingers as she slid one and then the other into her mouth.
When her tongue slipped out to clean the residue from her lips, he groaned. She let her gaze slip from his face. Suddenly staring at the bulge beneath his leather breeches, she snapped her attention back to his face and forced her voice to speak of things other than hunger.
“Is that where ye disappeared? So I might dress?”
“Aye. There are several chambers off this cave and hundreds more off the main cave. Those, at this point, are beyond our reach. The water runs higher than normal this day. Many of the other caves are unreachable except at low tide.
“What treasures are in those caves? I assume ye have explored each dark tunnel since ye seem to know yer way around.” He sat quiet for a moment, and then gulped his ale.
No cider for such a man, she thought as he licked foam from his lips. Her insides quivered as she imagined his tongue licking her lips.
“What shall I call ye?” he asked, catching her off-guard.
She shook away all thoughts as she followed the movement of his luscious lips. Had he spoken? Oh, right. He had asked a simple question.
Dragon Bites Page 2