Night of the Highland Dragon

by Isabel Cooper

  “As an institution, I take it? In our current form, around forty years. If my memory serves, and if my superiors were being honest with me, we more or less organized ourselves after the Crimea. Before that”—he spread his hands—“efforts here and there. Mostly scattershot. I’m given to understand that Cromwell and his crowd set us back considerably—and the first of the Stuarts wasn’t much help either, though I’m sorry for any offense that gives you.”

  “None at all,” Judith said with a snort. “We’ve had no reason to be fond of James up here—and particularly not in my family. He was before my time, but my mother had a number of hard names for the man, and she a soft-spoken lady by custom.” She smiled at the memory, then moved on. “Are you in the army’s command? Scotland Yard’s?”

  William shook his head. “I’m no policeman. And the Yard doesn’t get along very well with us, in truth. The honest ones are, I suspect, too honest to approve of covert activities.”

  “Soldiers are a more practical lot,” Judith agreed. “Mostly.”

  “Mostly.” Sensing, as she did, that they’d more or less crossed the Rubicon, and that the ground, if not precisely safe, was less deadly, he relaxed and eyed her contemplatively. “Do you speak from experience?”

  “Aye. I was a navy man most of my life, but I spent a bit of time in the army as well. Though that was mostly in the colonies. America, I mean.”

  “A navy ‘man’?” he asked, and his eyes dropped just for a second to her breasts. She felt the gaze as if he’d brushed his hand across her bodice, and her nipples stiffened. Evening dress was good for camouflage; she was lucky that way.

  She shrugged one shoulder, making the motion slow and fluid, and smiled at him. William shifted in his seat. Good. The score was even again. “I’m no great sorcerer,” she said, “and I couldn’t make very much difference in my appearance, but if I dress the part and act it, I’ve enough magic to cover any slight flaws. From the stories I hear, there were plenty of women who managed it with only trousers and a little binding. Once your mates are your mates, nobody really cares very much.”

  “I’d imagine a few of them would care too much,” William said.

  “Scum is scum. It’d be the same for a pretty boy. I had a few other advantages,” she added, remembering the gunner’s mate on her first ship. When she’d broken his jaw, there had been a few comments about how she was stronger than she looked; then they’d gone ashore and he’d vanished. Not everyone had the resources Judith did. Lynn would be one less problem for those who didn’t. She studied William. “You’d have been an officer, I’d think.”

  “I would have, had I gone into the regular forces. My parents hated the idea. They didn’t have any other children, and my mother couldn’t bear the idea of me going off for years at a time, to say nothing of getting shot at. But I wanted to serve,” William said, affectionately amused by his past self. “My uncle offered me another way. He was an…esoteric sort of scholar, you might say. Knew a few of the right people.”

  “It hardly kept you from getting shot at,” Judith said, “from what you mentioned before.”

  “No. But my parents never knew I was in the line of fire, and that was the important thing. They died thinking that I analyzed reports for the Home Secretary.” He took another sip of his brandy. “For that matter, I’m surprised you weren’t an officer—of the two of us, you’re the one with the title.”

  “It wouldn’t bear close inspection. Neither would I. And they care more about background for officers, or they used to. It was easier to be just another boy who’d run off to sea.”

  “Oh,” said William.

  Curiosity was clear in his face. Judith saw a thousand questions there. But she didn’t see fear or hate, or what she now realized she’d dreaded more—a come-look-at-the-freak sort of condescension. Instead, what lit his eyes and parted his lips was interest—maybe even wonder—and her body responded, going soft and wet and a little light-headed.

  No. Not yet. Business first.

  She swallowed. “So,” she said, “what happens once your superiors get your report?”

  “I hope they’ll deal with you and your family in a civilized manner.” William paused. “In fact, I’ll give my word that, as far as it’s in my power, I’ll make certain that they do. But I’d be lying if I offered any guarantees.”

  “And you never lie?”

  “I try to avoid it, when possible. It causes complications.”

  “Truth is easier to remember,” said Judith. She got to her feet, waved William back to his seat on the sofa as he started to rise, and walked over to the window. Pushing the drapes aside, she looked out.

  A wide expanse of black met her eye, the castle buildings and various trees darker shapes within. She could barely make out a few points of light off in the village. It was funny how far away half an hour’s walk could look.

  Judith turned back and saw William watching her. “Tell them,” she said, “that my family is very old. We’ve seen a great deal—my father’s father was a legionary in Rome. And though knowledge vanishes with the generations, we’ve still enough of it, and enough power, to be good allies.”

  She didn’t say, Or bad enemies. It was in better taste in a bargain to let the man across the table draw his own conclusions.

  “I will,” said William, and then he did get to his feet. He was a strong figure, all height and broad shoulders, with the ruddy glint of his hair contrasting with his black wool coat. He was probably armed—he’d have been a fool if he wasn’t. It did not detract from his appeal. “And we can work together in the meantime against this threat to both of us?”

  “Aye,” said Judith. “We can. Which leaves me with only one more question.”

  “Oh?” he asked, and he must have sensed the shift in her demeanor, for his mouth softened, a sensual smile curling around the corners.

  As she’d been wanting to do all night, Judith stepped toward him and held out a hand. “There are many ways of sealing an alliance,” she said, “and we’ve a more pleasant option than most. The view from my window is very fine, if you’d care to see it.”

  “Oh,” he repeated, his voice dropping, and he kissed the back of her hand. “I most certainly would.”

  Twenty-seven

  Judith laced her fingers through William’s and led him out into the hallway. Only years of practice allowed him to note his surroundings in the journey that followed. Otherwise, he would have walked through the hall and up the stairs like a blind man, seeing only the slim curves of Judith’s body, hearing only the rustling of her skirts, feeling nothing but the touch of her hand on his and the resulting waves of lust running through his body. The temptation to get lost in such sensations was almost overwhelming as it was.

  He did see stonework and tapestries, lamps in brass sconces and pictures on the wall—landscapes, and studies of fruit and objects, but no portraits. He glanced at doors and was reasonably certain that he could find his way back out if he needed to. Even with Judith a scant few inches away, and with the promise of much more to follow, he didn’t forget the possibility of danger.

  That awareness did nothing to shift his mood. Rather, it heightened his arousal. He’d been to bed with dangerous women before, even with women who might have tried to kill him—best to assume, he’d learned early, that everyone might try that—but never had he felt the risk so close at hand. Power walked beside him, and mystery, and those things drew him to Judith just as much as full breasts and bright eyes.

  By the time they reached the top of the stairs, he was aching with desire. Several times he quashed the urge to pull Judith into a corner and kiss her. He’d seen no servants, and the halls weren’t well lit any longer, but he knew great houses, and he knew people who were adept at not being seen. If Judith was waiting until the bedroom—well, she had to live in the village. He didn’t and, knowing that, held himself back.

 
If Judith didn’t go in for public display, neither did she seem worried. She led William onward with a faint smile and a smooth, unhesitant walk, the posture of a woman who’d long since known herself in her own place and capable of commanding anything around her. At that moment, William knew that included him—if not entirely, at least more so than he would have expected. If she’d bade him to kneel at her feet in the dark hallway, he would have done it. As the image came to mind, he drew a deep breath through his teeth and almost wished she would.

  She didn’t turn, but glancing back, she caught his gaze, and her smile deepened. “Almost there,” she said. Her eyes were the dark green-black of the trees outside, shadowed with desire, and her lips curved, ripe and welcoming. “This place is betimes larger than I’d have it be.”

  “I was just thinking,” William said, “that we should have met in a cottage somewhere.”

  Or he should have taken her in the drawing room—laid her on the couch and pushed up her skirt—but although the thought made his cock pulse and strain against his flies, he knew it wouldn’t have been right. Much as he wanted Judith, and as half-jokingly as she’d said it, this was the close of an agreement and the beginning of an alliance. A degree of ritual was appropriate.

  Besides, there was a certain torturous pleasure in anticipation.

  Judith’s bedroom was an island of sea-colored brocade and velvet, with a massive canopied bed that might have come from the century before. The sound of the closing door shut out time as well as the world outside. This was here and now, and the world stilled in anticipation.

  “I’ll need your assistance,” Judith said, her voice low and silky. Almost touching him, she turned, showing a row of jet buttons down the back of her dress. “Women’s clothing these days. ’Tis a wondrous thing that anyone manages to roger a lass.”

  “Some of us,” William responded, “are patient men.”

  To his surprise, he found that he spoke truth. Yes, he hungered to touch her. Yes, he was breathing quickly by the time his fingers undid the first button. But he waited. He was careful. His awareness narrowed to each small, black oval, and each one undone was a drumbeat in his brain: one and two and six and seven, and his heartbeat matched the rhythm.

  At the end, he brought his hands upward in one smooth line over Judith’s corset, tracing her spine and making her shiver, and then pushed the silk to each side. It fell away from her shoulders, and her body, emerging, shone golden and sleek. She made a throaty sound of appreciation, then took matters into her own hands, stepping unhurriedly out of the cloud of taffeta and linen. A few quick motions at the front of her corset, and it too opened and fell away, leaving her naked save for jewelry and silk stockings.

  “My God,” said William, or he thought he did. Sounds definitely came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t have sworn they were anything as organized as words. Forgetting gentlemanly behavior, he stared.

  Naked, she lost neither dignity nor power. Judith made no move to cover herself. Her breasts, full and round with large dark nipples, were bared to his gaze, as was the triangle of black hair between her thighs. She set one hand on her hip and smiled at him, and William thought of classical statuary, of goddesses and queens, and also that he might actually die of lust.

  “You’re not very efficient,” she said. “You could have started undressing minutes ago.”

  “I was appreciating the moment,” he said, and this time his mouth did manage to shape words. All the same, his hands were quickly about their business. He might have popped a button or two in his haste, but he didn’t care.

  Judith watched, eyes filled with anticipation. When William undid his trousers and his cock finally sprang free, she ran her tongue slowly over her lower lip, and his previous statement about patience almost became a complete lie. With an immense effort of will, he managed to get himself free of his clothing.

  She stepped into his arms then, her whole body naked and warm and vibrant against his. William kissed her slowly, learning again the feel of her lips and tongue, the taste of her mouth, and before he was done, he knew that her earlier calm had been at least partly show. Her nipples were hard against his chest, her breasts rubbing against him with every increasingly quick breath, and her hands locked at the middle of his back, holding him tightly against her.

  When William finally pulled away, it was only to take the few steps to the bed. He led Judith this time, one arm around her waist, and she went eagerly with him. Side by side they tumbled onto the blankets. Already William was cupping Judith’s breasts, and while panting, she was running her hands over his chest and sides, slow movements that nonetheless spoke of restlessness. So did the motions of her body—the small, involuntary circles of her hips and the way she pressed her breasts into his hands.

  He was no less overcome. The world had truly narrowed now. He was barely aware of the bed he lay on, only that there was a surface. He did know that his breath was fast and hard, that he groaned as Judith’s long fingers skimmed over his nipples and her hot mouth traced a line down his neck, that every time she writhed against him, the friction of her smooth thigh against his erection made him shudder with pleasure.

  When Judith reached lower, William found some vestige of willpower and grasped her wrist. For a second, she gave him a puzzled look, black brows slanting together, swollen lips beginning to part in a question.

  “My turn this time,” he said.

  For once in his experience of women, he knew he didn’t need to worry about either hurting or overpowering his partner—even in human form, he knew there was strength enough to Judith—but chivalry still gentled his touch as he nudged her over onto her back and rose above her. He allowed himself only a fleeting and far too tempting moment of lying flush against her, feeling her legs beginning to part around him, and then slid lower, taking one of her nipples in his mouth as he’d wanted to do for, oh, ages now.

  Judith moaned, deep and long. Her fingers threaded through William’s hair, tugging a little but mostly just urging him onward as her body did, her back arching as he circled his tongue. Her own hair spread out on the coverlet, a black cloud around her flushed face. By the time he switched to the other breast, her head was tossing back and forth, her lower lip between her teeth in some attempt to at least quiet the sounds she was making.

  It was not inordinately successful, that effort, which made William smile even as he took a firmer grip on his willpower. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard, so hot and full, so desperate to be inside a woman.

  With a last attempt at patience, he stroked up her thighs, feeling the sleek firmness of muscle beneath the smooth skin. Judith parted her legs easily at his touch, and William cupped her sex, relishing the feel of soft hair and then—ah—incredible wetness, and the way her hips instantly strained toward him. With his mouth still on her nipple, he felt her chest rise as she sucked in a breath, and felt with all of him the sudden desperate tension of her body.

  “Now,” she said, and her hands left his hair to catch his shoulders, urging him back upward. “Now would be good.”

  Judith’s voice was fierce, but still one step from demanding. Demanding was, William thought, still too close to begging for her tastes. He had a vague idea of testing that particular line, but Judith’s hands were insistent, her legs open below him, and he abandoned any thought of playing that game. Next time, he told himself silently.

  He’d prepared for many circumstances when he’d dressed. The French letter was in the pocket of his trousers. William made quick work of putting it on, then positioned himself over Judith, the tip of his cock just at the entrance to her sex. Then he thrust forward, Judith wrapped her legs around him as she cried out, and he didn’t think any longer about a next time, or about teasing this time, or about anything remotely civilized or abstract. All was sensation. All was urgency and welcome, and Judith’s eyes wide and green below him.

  He had just enough se
lf-control left to listen to her body, to find the rhythm she’d started and to match it: slow and deep at first, each parting and rejoining like its own separate act, and then faster as Judith arched up against him, taking his rod deeper and rubbing against him at the same time. She’d abandoned any effort to be quiet, and her cries and moans sounded in his ears like rockets, wearing away at his self-control one after another.

  When her climax hit, she screamed against his shoulder, and her thighs tightened around his flanks just as her sex tightened around his cock for the first time. She was, William learned, powerful everywhere.

  He felt himself starting to spend a moment later. He drove hard and deep into Judith, her body still shaking around his and urging him on to greater heights of rapture, until the final waves passed over him and he collapsed.

  Twenty-eight

  It had been a long time.

  Judith turned on her side and stretched, feeling the pop of muscles in her back and thighs, the faint soreness between her legs. She grinned up at the ceiling. The bed felt softer beneath her, the silk brocade sleeker and cooler. It had started raining sometime during their interlude, and she heard the drops pattering against the windows. Carnality also was a transformation, and the aftermath of all such things made her more aware of her body. She’d missed it.

  Absently, she reached out a hand to William’s chest. Considerate, he’d rolled off her a moment after he’d reached his peak, before his elbows could give out under his weight. Now he lay on his back, staring upward in the same contentedly stunned state from which Judith was beginning to emerge.

  She hoped so, anyhow. Men weren’t exactly opaque at moments of passion, and she was fairly sure William had enjoyed himself, but both pride and her own pleasure made her hope she’d done well by him. And it had been a long time.

  Judith trailed her fingers through curls of red hair, felt the warm skin and the smooth muscle beneath them. “They keep you in good fettle, your masters,” she said, smiling again. “Or is this all by way of recreation?”