“Aye, ‘tis only me, my love. Are ye angry?”
Why would Dru think he was angry? She’d fallen, presumably to her death, only to reappear behind a…
Shaw spun around abruptly. Squinting, only the brick and granite balustrade, the black hulk of several cannons, and the sea beyond filled his vision. Stars had popped out into the sky as the clouds retreated, lending low light to the area, but he knew what he had witnessed.
“The creature,” he said, glancing behind Dru. “Where is it? I want to thank it for returning you to me.”
Dru gazed up at him from the cocoon of his embrace. She stood on the tips of her toes with a sad look upon her lovely face. Her eyes glowed like flames while her body smelled of smoke.
Flames? Smoke?
“Shaw Stenhouse, do ye love me?”
“For the love of—”
“Yer answer?”
“I asked for your hand in marriage. I nearly died when you fell—”
“I jumped.”
Shaw dropped his arms. She stepped back. “I see. My offer was so horrible, death was more palatable?”
CHAPTER 11
Dru stepped forward and pounded on his chest. The silly man played dumb. Or, he refused to acknowledge what he had witnessed moments earlier. She had shifted, from her dragon form, to the human he knew as Dru Little. What would he say when she revealed all? When she explained in detail who or, rather, what he had proposed to?
“The creature you speak of is a Scottish dragon. She is very old, fairly wise, yet small compared to her peers.”
“Size matters not. Dragons? I’ve never seen the like, though something with wings once stole my apple.”
“ ‘Twas sweet, indeed. I thank ye for the treat.”
Silence.
Shaw’s mouth opened to speak, but the tramping of boots in the stairwell interrupted his reply. Shaw pulled her into the shadow of the stair tower, out of sight of the nearing soldiers. The men laughed and kept walking toward the right flank. Dru did not make a sound.
“Clarify your last words,” Shaw whispered.
Dru cupped his cheek, leaned up, and kissed him. “My love, believe what yer eyes have seen. Search yer heart. I am what I am. And more.”
Shaw, still quiet, leaned his bulk against the outer wall. The stars, reflected in his eyes, jumped and danced while her heart grew afraid. If he could not accept her origins, would he leave her?
“You are the dragon?”
“Aye.”
“How is this possible? I mean, I felt its power. I smelled the smoke and gazed into eyes of flame. Your eyes are the same, yet you have flesh and bone, not wings and scales. This is too much.”
Dru turned and retreated. Shaw had to find his own answers, in order to accept her. If her unusual beginnings horrified him, she would not accept his proposal. She would fly away, then search farther up the American coast for an ideal location. If she stumbled on some other poor lass, her life could start anew.
Would a life without Shaw’s love mean anything?
“Don’t go. Please don’t fly off without giving me a chance to understand.” Shaw’s fingers, wrapped around her forearm, were gentle. Below the skin, his tremors proved his body shook from either their lovemaking, or the truth of her existence.
“I grew up as a creature, roaming the earth for centuries. I loved Scotland, but no one in Scotland loved me, so I left there, arrived in Charleston, and met you. Now our existence is steeped in myth and faerie folklore. What would ye like to know?”
Shaw chewed his bottom lip, and Dru yearned to suckle the tender flesh between her own lips. He pulled her back inside the safety of their hiding spot, then let her go immediately. “I want to know why, when I met you, you were well-known. The customers of the Milltown Restaurant told me you had worked there for years.”
“I borrowed this body.”
“Excuse me? You did what?”
“Keep yer voice down,” she whispered. “I arrived from Scotland, weary and beaten. I spied a woman walking along the cliff, where the travel lane veers too close?”
“I know the spot.”
“A carriage, led by two large horses, barreled down the lane and struck her. She landed at the base of the cliff.”
“Lord! How terrible.”
“Aye. I flew down to the beach, but she was beyond hope. I shifted, using her body as a template.”
“A what?”
“A pattern, so to speak. Along with the human form, I gained her memories. I am the dragon, but this is also me.” She motioned down her body with a flourish of her right hand.
“I do not understand.”
“I feel her. Inside me. She worked at the Milltown Restaurant and lived above the inn. ‘Twas rather easy to assume her life, though I dropped many a tankard of ale the first few weeks.” She laughed. A mighty Scottish dragon had turned into a simple serving wench.
What would the Black Dragon think of me now?
“I am shocked, truth be told, but not surprised. My grandmother spoke of faeries and specters as well as creatures of the seas and caves. Scotland is rich in history and myths, yet I never dreamed I would fall in love with one.”
“Are ye calling me a piece of history, or a myth?” Dru smiled when Shaw laughed, and all felt right with the world.
“Who goes there?” A new voice called out, through the night.
“Blast it, it’s one of my men. Stay here and keep quiet.”
***
Dru nodded, though Shaw barely saw her move. He’d bolted from the shadows, raised a hand, and hailed his corporal while he prayed she stayed silent as a grave. They’d find themselves lying in the grave together, if discovered.
“Lieutenant Stenhouse? I thought all were to bed ‘cept us lowly guards.”
“Ha. On a night like this?”
“Yep, she’s a beauty.”
Shaw coughed. “A beauty?”
“The night. Gorgeous, but somethin’ is stirring. I don’t think this is a good thing. My bones ache. Storms a’brewing.”
“I agree. The southern militia has some tricks up their sleeves. However, reinforcements and supplies will reach us, soon. Those men at Fort Moultrie on Sullivan Island, as well as Fort Johnson on James Island, will tire of waiting us out. This silly conflict will end.”
“I’m a’hopin you’re right. G’night, sir.”
Shaw walked with a casual lope to the shadows where he’d left Dru.
Dragon lady Dru.
“How appropriate.” He chuckled.
“I pray yer thoughts stray to the inappropriate, sir,” she teased.
Shaw hardened at the delicious memories of their violent coupling. Heat spread through his groin and his mouth turned dry as dust. The urge to taste her, as he filled her secret spot with his rising flesh, made him forget where they stood.
Again.
Shaw pulled her into his arms. “Dru, this is beyond the norm.”
“Aye, I have never been called normal, but I love ye and want to take ye away to safety.”
“No.” She wanted him to leave his post? His men? The life of a federal soldier was important to him. Dru was important to him as well. He could not leave either.
“I must stay. It is my duty, but my commission will be fulfilled by the end of April. This business with the southern states might end soon. I hope it does. Then and only then can we be together.”
Dru made a nasal sound and emitted a tiny tendril of smoke.
He smiled. This is Dru Little. If I want her as my wife, I must accept the good with the surreal.
“Besides,” he said, smiling down at her, “You will never get me in the air.”
“Fine, ye told me yer afraid to fly. However, I shall keep my ears open,” she said, wiggling them between her fingers, “and will return to this spot, same time of night, should the news endanger yer life. Agreed?”
Shaw nodded. He hated the idea that she would be taking a chance someone might see her, but no one had as yet. If she could
supply his regiment with military information, why not?
“Agreed. Now, go home. Be careful.” Shaw pulled her into his arms and ravaged her mouth, deepening the kiss until she softened into his embrace. Heat and passion rose, but he slowly set her aside. Taking too many chances was dangerous.
“I love you, Shaw Stenhouse.” Dru kissed her fingertips, laid them against his mouth, and turned. At the edge of the balustrade, she jumped.
Shaw fought the urge to run to the edge. Keeping to the shadows, he spied a lonely figure rise toward the night sky and flap its large wings. For a moment, he could have sworn a larger shadow followed her.
My eyes are playing tricks on me. Isn't it enough that the woman I love is a dragon? What have I gotten myself into?
***
Dru slipped in her bedroom window, and locked it behind her. Had Shaw spotted the large black shadow, as it followed her home? A shadow, black as night and twice her size?
She undressed, and lay on her bed. Her body hummed with the memory of their lovemaking. Desire, pleasure, and a heart-stopping climax were nothing, compared to the love she felt for the human. Considering she never meant to seek a permanent relationship with a human, why this man?
He told her that questions filled his head. Maybe it would be better if she and Shaw discussed all avenues of their relationship once the danger had passed.
Dru tossed and turned for the remainder of the night. When the morning sun peeked through her window, it brought memories of Shaw. She loved how his kisses tasted.
Yummy.
Rising, she stretched while her ravenous stomach growled. She skipped down the stairs. The aroma of fresh baked bread made her fangs distend. Dru forced them back, smiled, and listened to Maggie humming in the kitchen.
Early on, Dru learned Maggie enjoyed rising before the dawn. Not her. If Mistress Cumberland stayed away, the day would turn out fine. Maybe a few interesting patrons would dine at the inn, today and take her mind off Shaw.
Dru looked forward to eavesdropping, too. Her dragon’s superior sense of hearing would garner helpful information without putting her life in jeopardy. If war lay on the horizon, she wanted to know. If hostilities escalated, Shaw might die.
Tying her apron around her hungry stomach, Dru smiled at Maggie.
“Up to yer elbows in flour, again?”
“Aye, lass. Look lively. The mistress ordered more of everything. Some big military meeting going on here, today.”
“Here? Are ye sure?” The implications were astronomical. Dru would take every opportunity to eavesdrop. How fortunate. She could gather information, without having to leave home.
“Aye. Start cutting biscuits while I get these loaves done. Then go tap the cider barrels. They do not want ale muddling up their work. Put the large kettle on to boil for tea.”
“Are we serving them lunch?”
“They’ll be here after the lunch rush, but we’ll serve fried chicken wings, biscuits, and lemon tarts. Mistress Cumberland promised to close the restaurant until the dinner hour. Very secret business, I guess. ‘Tis a bad thing, I’m feeling.”
Dru nodded, not sure how she felt. If the military men met over drinks and biscuits to discuss ending the siege of Fort Sumter, she’d welcome the news. However, if they planned an attack, Shaw’s only hope was her ability to overhear the discussion.
Unfortunately, while she served the lunch crowd, Dru learned nothing. The townsfolk mumbled rumors of a secret meeting. Word had spread. When several men asked her, Dru professed no knowledge of any special event.
“The restaurant is closing for some minor repairs,” she said as instructed. Whether they believed her or not, she didn’t care. She looked forward to the meeting. With any news worth sharing, she would soon fly off to see Shaw.
Mistress Cumberland, nervous to a fault, snipped at Dru and Maggie until Maggie pulled her aside.
“Mistress,” Maggie said, “calm yerself. We are ready for yer special guests, but ye are making poor Dru so nervous, she’ll probably spill hot tea down the general’s uniform.”
“How did you know General Beauregard is coming here?” Suspicion glared from her scrunched face and straightened back.
“I guessed. Military men having a secret meeting? I would expect no one less in command. Welcome them, show them to their table, then lock the front and kitchen doors. Dru and I will keep their plates brimming with fried chicken wings, biscuits, and my lemon tarts. Their tankards will stay filled with cider. Leave their comfort to us, aye?”
Mistress Cumberland nodded, but did not stop wringing her hands. She headed for the dining hall, hurried the locals along, then locked the double front doors after the last man had left. Dru sensed the woman’s nerves were still on edge when she peeked through the window curtains again. A knock rattled the doors. Mistress Cumberland jumped.
Dru giggled softly at the woman's nervousness, and kept to the shadows. She strained to glimpse their important, albeit dangerous, visitors. A tall, broad-shouldered man strode in through the front doors, dressed all in black, not in uniform. Dru’s dragon senses went on full alert. When the man’s gaze roamed the room, even as he listened to her employer’s banter, she knew the minute he sensed Dru’s presence. The stranger's glare made her throat tighten and her heart race. He was certainly a handsome man, But dangerous.
Do I know him?
CHAPTER 12
Dru doubted they had ever met. She would have remembered a face like his, yet something about his stance seemed familiar. She inhaled his scent. Something about him made her turn her gaze away.
From the corner of her eye, the man in black glanced away. He followed Mistress Cumberland to the large table in the corner. Candlelight flickered off his coal-black hair, and the fire from the roaring hearth reflected in his black eyes. He shrugged out of his long traveling coat. His black clothing molded to his body. Two massive shoulders shrugged when he ignored Mistress Cumberland’s nod toward a chair. Instead, he leaned his bulk against a wall and faded into shadow.
Dru fanned her face, forced her dry throat to swallow, and returned to the safety of the kitchen.
“Ye look like you’ve seen a ghost, lass.”
“Maybe. A man arrived. Not a soldier. He reminds me of someone.”
“Who?” Maggie paused, and clapped her flour-covered hands together.
Dru shook her head. What could she say? Was the stranger someone from her dreams? Had she seen such a man among the Highlanders of Scotland? No sense worrying. She had work to do or Mistress Cumberland would scold her again.
Rolling her shoulders, and averting her eyes, Dru strode back into the tavern. She placed a basket of bread and another filled with buttermilk biscuits on the table designated for their special guests. Pots of fresh-churned butter came next. On a table shoved against one wall, she set pitchers of cider and well water. They'd serve the lemon tarts after the men consumed their fill of Maggie's delicious southern fried chicken wings. Linen napkins and hand-polished silver waited patiently, unlike Dru. She desperately wanted this day to end.
Mistress Cumberland bubbled and mewed as each uniformed man entered her establishment. The men exchanged slight nods. Murmurs filled the hall, coaxing Dru to change her dirty apron. She tidied her hair by pulling it back into a severe bun, then pinched her cheeks. She'd learned from Maggie that men talked more openly in front of a pretty face.
The conversation started out casual, with talk of good fishing and success at bird hunting. Dru forced a smile as she served cider or water, and kept her eyes slanted downward, as expected of a serving wench. As she moved around the table, the man in black’s eyes followed her.
Where do I know him from?
“You are much prettier than the darkies,” one man, a captain, said. His low whisper was gentle, and his tone seemed more kind than lewd.
“I thank ye, sir.”
“An accent. Where are you from, my lovely?”
His hand rose, as if he meant to touch her face, then quickly sl
id against the underside of her breast. The captain’s interest had changed from light to dark in a heartbeat. Uncomfortable, Dru stepped around him to fill his neighbor’s tankard. “I be from Scotland, near the northern coast of the Isle of Skye, but I call Charleston home.”
“The Scots breed the most beautiful of women in such a harsh and desolate climate.”
Dru froze.
The black-haired stranger’s comment silenced the room. Unable to help herself, she glanced in his direction. He stood in the corner with his arms crossed, staring back. A slight smile turned his devilish façade to one of mirth.
Blazes! I remember those eyes.
Not wanting to show she’d noticed, and unwilling to delve too far into her history in front of the men, she gave him and the soldiers a curt nod, and moved away. The captain’s gloved fingers tightened around her wrist, stopping her from completing her job of serving the others.
“Unhand the woman, Captain. We are here to work, not play,” the black-haired man said. His voice was low and too soft to match his bulk.
“Who are you to order me around? You’re just a courier. Keep your mouth shut.”
The stranger’s eyes flared and his grin turned to the straight-lipped visage of a man losing control. Only Dru realized he wasn’t a man. She inhaled, and swallowed his scent even deeper, the most accurate way to discern his origins.
The Black Dragon. Blazes! What is he doing here?
“Unhand the woman and ignore Mr. MacCrave. He has brought us vital information, and is a trusted guest at this table,” said the man Dru assumed was General Beauregard.
The other officer grumbled, then released Dru. Freed, she continued around the table. When she reached the general’s elbow, she whispered her thanks.
“Think nothing of it, madam. My men are lonely. Once the war begins in earnest, I fear they will not see their homes for many months.”
His statement chilled her to the bone, if what he said held possibilities. The general expected war. Keeping close to the table, but far from the man they called Mr. MacCrave, she inched her way toward the kitchen. Maggie stood in the doorway and pressed a platter of wings into Dru’s hand.
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