by Meara Platt
She continued to gaze at him in confusion. “Leave? But you just said you didn’t know–”
“I still don’t know why you are here or how to get you safely out, but there’s far more danger in your staying. Brihann is approaching and he’s coming for you. He can’t be more than an hour or two away.”
“Didn’t he give me to you as a gift?”
“And now he’s realized his mistake and means to take you back. Perhaps it wasn’t a mistake at all, that he knew… never mind. The point is, he’s dangerous to you.” He picked up his axe and opened the door to peer down the hall.
Empty.
Only Thomas, his steward, was ever permitted to come up to his tower quarters without being summoned.
He glanced down and saw the breakfast tray. Thomas must have brought it up from the kitchen a few moments ago. Steam still rose from under the silver salvers that held eggs, kippers, and freshly baked buns. He’d purposely asked for foods that were familiar to Georgiana.
His dragon scent would detect anything amiss with this meal.
He inhaled lightly. No one had tampered with it.
He picked up the tray and set it on the table, then strode back to fetch the other packages that had been left beside his door.
Georgiana’s new clothes and slippers.
Her wedding gown had been ruined, but he couldn’t return Georgiana to her family wearing only his shirt. By the Stone of Draloch! She looked so beautiful in it, so naturally alluring with her tousled blonde locks spilling over her shoulders.
And her big, green eyes so trusting as she continued to regard him with confusion.
He knelt and held out the packages for Charon and Styx to smell. They would growl if these garments had ever been worn before. But his dogs didn’t make a sound, merely continued to sniff the packages out of curiosity.
Georgiana shook her head. “What are they doing?”
Bloodaxe rose and placed the packages on the bed. “These are your new clothes. Slippers, too. My dogs are making certain no demon taint is on them.”
She gasped softly. “I’ve just realized something. Oh, how stupid of me! You’re a demon and yet you carry no such taint on you. Why is that?”
The comment surprised him even though he ought to have realized the special connection between them would affect her senses. “You’re wrong. I do carry the foul stench of darkness. Perhaps it is not quite as foul as the High King’s, but it is there.”
“It isn’t.” She shook her head vehemently. “Your scent is that of honey. Mostly that, but there’s also a masculine mix of pine forest and rugged mountains.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe mountains give off a scent.”
“They do. Cool air and rich earth.”
“You’re wrong, Georgiana. Dragons smell like slimy toads.” Sighing, he motioned for her to sit at the table. “Let me look at your arms first. Your eyes look…” Beautiful. “Slightly glazed. You may be running a fever.”
She obeyed his command and sat, but frowned at him. “I’m not running a fever.”
He drew his seat close to better inspect her wounds. But as he took her hands in his and leaned in to roll up her sleeves, she surprised him by putting her nose to his neck and inhaling deeply. He drew back. “What are you doing?”
“Proving you a liar. I knew it. Your scent is that of honey.” Her soft lips grazed his throat. “If I’m never to see you again, I want to remember all that I can of you.”
Remember him? No, he would fix that by casting a spell of forgetfulness over her once she was safely back home. He didn’t want her to recall their time spent together, for she needed to move on and put him out of her mind. Unfortunately, he could not do the same for himself.
He would never forget her.
But he could indulge himself in these last moments.
It would take nothing for him to turn his head ever so slightly and lower his mouth to hers. One kiss.
She would be gone from his life forever within a matter of hours.
Did he dare?
“Eat quickly and get dressed.” He abruptly rolled down the sleeves of her shirt… his shirt… and strode to his night table where the ewer of water stood. He hastily washed and dressed and then told her to do the same. He opened the last of the packages that contained her new clothes. Would they fit her?
They’d been prepared in haste and without benefit of her exact measurements, only what he could estimate. He was familiar with a woman’s body, but he was no seamstress and could only describe what he’d observed of her shapely body.
Her breasts were ample enough to fill the cups of his palms, but not so large as to be overflowing.
Her waist was small enough that his hands could span it.
Her hips were not much larger than her waist. She would have trouble delivering a child, certainly any offspring of his seed.
He dismissed the thought.
There would be no coupling with Georgiana. “Are you done eating?”
She nodded.
He handed her the new garments. “Wash and dress as fast as you can. Bolt the door behind me. Keep away from the windows. I’ll ride out with my forces to see if I can distract him from his purpose. If I fail, be ready to leave here. We’ll have to move fast.”
He had dressed in his usual black. He wore the leather hauberk he always donned before a battle and secured his axe in its sheath at his hip.
He spared her a glance, finding it hard to part from her even though she’d been in his life no more than a day. She was holding up the gold kirtle and green overtunic he’d ordered sewn for her and inspecting them. The green was the deep, rich tone of new spring grass. The gold was the bright gold of sunlight, the one thing all demons feared.
She clutched the clothes to her chest as he approached. “I thought you were leaving.”
“I am.” He eased the garments out of her hands.
“Mother in heaven,” she whispered as he caught her up in his arms.
And then he kissed her.
*
Mother in heaven.
Georgiana’s heart soared the moment he touched her. She ought to have been terrified and fighting him off. Instead, she stood on her toes and circled her arms around his neck, eager to lean into his warrior’s body and give herself over to the wondrous sensation of his kiss.
She knew his touch.
She knew his lips.
How did she know this man? She struggled to think, but his lips were on hers, probing and possessive, and she couldn’t hold a single thought other than she wanted to belong to him. Oh, his kiss. So filled with longing and desperation. His mouth pressed down on hers, urgent and demanding, and at the same time it seemed as if he were reining in his passion, as though he feared to hurt her with the power of his need.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her against his muscled body so that she could feel the taut planes of his broad chest. Keeping one arm around her, he put his other hand to the back of her head, his fingers winding in her wild curls to hold her steady. Did he think she would pull away?
How could she ever want to draw away from him when the power of his desire filled her? His strength flowed through her like a molten pool of lava filling every lonely crevice of her heart.
The turbulent feelings he evoked in her were at the same time frightening and thrilling.
“I know you, my lord. Sweet mercy, how is it possible? Why is your kiss so familiar?”
“It can’t be.” His mouth closed over hers once more, the touch of his lips on hers sparking a fire within her that would not be quelled. But how? What was this heat surging through her body? She pressed her lips against his, and did not resist when he slid his tongue between them to tease them apart.
She breathed him in.
She tasted him on her lips.
She felt the iron strength of his arms that held her close to his body. Curiously, they were not confining. Quite the opposite, his touch seemed to set her y
earning free. She ran her hands along his bulging muscles and down his broad back. She wanted to run her fingers along his hot, smooth skin, but he was dressed for battle and she could not dig through the layers that covered his body.
She clutched his shoulders, but only managed to clasp the worn leather of his hauberk and the soft linen of his shirt in her fists.
He thrust again to tease her lips apart. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue to slide in, for he was deepening the kiss and stirring her passion. She was a virgin, but understood the act of mating. How soon before he probed lower and entered her there.
And was she mad to desire it?
“By the Stone of Draloch,” he said in whisper, easing his lips off hers and setting her down gently before moving away. “Why did you not stop me?”
Her heart was pounding like a war drum in her chest. “Could I have?”
He nodded. “Aye, a word from you is all it would have taken.”
She doubted it, and yet he did not appear to be in jest. “I didn’t want to,” she admitted, although it was folly to do so. She didn’t wish to encourage him, but neither was she sorry for this kiss that both of them appeared to need with an inexplicable desperation. “I’ve never kissed any man like this before. Not even Oli–”
“Do not mention his name.” A darkness swirled amid the blue of his eyes. She’d seen it before. But it flickered out quickly. “I do not wish to hear about this man who intends to claim you as his wife.”
“Assuming I make it out of here alive.”
He appeared offended. “Do you doubt I will protect you?”
“No, I don’t doubt you.” She shook her head. “But you’re worried that you might not succeed. This realm is a cruel place, or so you’ve told me. And I’ve experienced it.” She held up her arms that were covered by the long sleeves of his shirt that she was still wearing.
He frowned, but gave her cheek a light caress. “I had better see what Brihann wants. Get dressed, Georgie. Be ready for my return. And if I tell you to run, then do it. Don’t look back. Just keep the two moons to your right and that will keep you heading west. You’ll come to a range of tall mountains. That’s your passageway out of here. The mountain rock is sharp and will likely cut your hands, but ignore the pain. Keep climbing and don’t stop for anything.”
“Won’t there be demons to stop me?”
“Lots. I’ll take care of them. All you need to do is climb.”
She glanced at the battle axe he carried so casually at his side. “Will you give me a weapon? Something more effective than the eating knife I took last night?”
“No. Your wits are your best defense.” He studied her a moment longer. “Besides, you were brought here for a purpose that is beyond my comprehension. Whatever force placed you here is not about to let you die.”
“Unless it is my time,” she said quietly.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her to him. “By the Stone of Draloch, it is not your time. I think I would feel it in my very bones. I would feel it in the last vestiges of the soul I thought I had lost years ago. You aren’t meant to die.”
Why would he feel it in his bones? Or to the very depths of his soul?
He couldn’t unless they were connected somehow. They were. They had to be. He’d poured his heart into their kiss. Even though demons weren’t supposed to have hearts or noble thoughts or feelings. But his every thought and act had been to protect her.
She gasped. “Do you believe you’re the one who’s meant to die?”
The possibility left her bereft.
He arched an eyebrow. “I am not afraid of death.”
“No, I didn’t think you would be. I also think there are times you long for it.” She surprised him by rising on tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on his tense jaw. “If this is to be our last meeting… I want you to know that I shall keep you in my heart always.”
He looked at her as though she’d stuck a knife between his ribs. “Don’t you dare.”
He strode out, leaving her behind with Charon and Styx.
Chapter Five
Lord Bloodaxe’s hounds sank down on their hind legs and stood so still on either side of Georgiana that they reminded her of a pair of matched fire irons. “You are permitted to move about the room,” she said, expecting they wouldn’t understand a word of what she was saying. “But you’ll have to turn around while I undress. After all, I’m a well-bred young lady and require some privacy.”
She blushed when they nodded. But they remained as still as statues and continued to stare at her. “What are you trying to tell me? Very well, you’re right. I didn’t behave like a lady last night. But I couldn’t help myself. Your master is…”
She picked up her new clothes and moved to stand behind the bed while continuing to chatter at her two intrepid companions. “I don’t quite know what he is, in truth. But he must be someone special to me. Don’t you think?”
Charon and Styx nodded again.
She eyed her two companions warily. “Is it truly possible you understand me?”
They gave another nod.
Was it just a trick or did they know what she was saying? She tipped her chin up in the air. “Then turn around while I slip off your master’s shirt and don this gown. I won’t have the two of you gawking at me.”
Charon turned to face the door while Styx faced the windows.
“Sweet merciful heaven, you do understand.” The realization rattled her, but also comforted her. She hastily washed and then put on her new garments. Her slippers turned out to be soft leather ankle-length boots that laced up the front. She nodded her approval. She’d be able to run in them if she had to. Her gown was a little too long and not practical for running, but she could gather up the skirts without much difficulty. “You may turn around now, gentlemen.”
Charon and Styx immediately obeyed.
She laughed and shook her head. “What do you think of my outfit? The kirtle and tunic are a few hundred years out of fashion. But I’m not going to tea with the Prince Regent, am I? The linen is quite soft and the colors are very pretty, don’t you think?”
They barked their obvious approval.
She sighed. “Who were you in an earlier life? Knights of King Arthur’s round table?”
They didn’t respond.
“I suppose not. Perhaps Knights Templar? Did you hide your treasure on the Isle of Malta?” She caught not even a blink from them. “Will you give me a hint?”
She sat at the table and nibbled on the last of her eggs and kippers. She’d already had her breakfast, but took a few more bites anyway to fill her belly and maintain her strength. But she knew better than to overdo it. If she had to suddenly run, she couldn’t afford a stitch in her side to slow her down.
Yet, if she were on the run, she might have trouble finding food. She fashioned a pouch out of the kerchief that came with her gown and tucked some bread and an apple in it.
She turned to Lord Bloodaxe’s hounds that were following her every move. “Am I permitted to feed you table scraps?” Charon’s ears perked when she lifted a kipper onto her fork. She grinned at him. “Aha! You like fish, so you must have been a fisherman.”
He cast her an exasperated look, as though she were so far off the mark as to be pathetic. “But I saw your ears perk. You–”
Both dogs suddenly turned to the window and started growling, all playfulness gone as they bared their sharp teeth and settled their bodies low on their haunches, preparing to leap at whatever threat was out there. In the next moment, an enormous, yellow-scaled creature made its presence known by smashing the windows with its spiked tail.
Georgiana fell back with a soft cry as the massive beast suddenly stuck its long yellow head through the gaping hole and tried to grab her in its snapping jaws. Dragon.
She meant to scream, but her terror caused her throat to constrict so that she felt strangled by her own fear. No! She had to keep her wits about her.
She rolled out of reach and
scrambled to her feet to frantically search for a weapon while the growling dogs held the beast off. Charon lunged at its snout and Styx went for its throat. The beast momentarily withdrew, but Georgiana knew there would be no more than a few moments of respite before it demolished this stone tower and caught her in its bone-crushing grip.
How does one defend against a dragon?
This one looked similar to the one imprinted on Lord Bloodaxe’s back, but it was an opalescent, yellowish amber and not nearly as majestic. Perhaps it was the lack of expression in its ebony-black eyes that diminished the nobility of the creature.
Lord Bloodaxe had taken his battle axe along with several daggers that he’d kept in a chest along the back wall. She raced to the chest, her heart once more thumping madly as she opened it to uncover a treasure trove of weapons, none of which she knew how to use.
The crossbow looked the most promising, but it was too heavy to hold in her hands and aim. She’d have to prop it up on something. The bed’s footboard would do nicely. It would also provide a protective screen that she could hide behind.
But the footboard was merely carved wood that would split in half if the dragon whipped its tail and gave it a good thwack.
Mere seconds had passed but it felt like an eternity.
She glanced around, looking for something sturdier to shield her. Of course! Lord Bloodaxe’s shield was hanging on the wall beside the chest. She used her shoulder to push it upward and off its hook and then winced as it noisily clattered to the ground. “Please don’t be dented.”
She wouldn’t blame Lord Bloodaxe if he throttled her for damaging his precious armaments. But she’d worry about that later. She hoisted the shield onto the bed and propped it up between the footboard and the mattress.
Breathing heavily and grunting from the exertion, she then dragged the crossbow to the bed and propped it up against the footboard as well. She hastily dug through the chest and grabbed all the arrows she could find, loading one onto the crossbow.
“Blast, how does this thing work?” It was no easy feat to draw the bowstring taut and properly set it on the delicately poised spring. She finally managed it, but knew she would have only one chance for a good shot because reloading it would take more time than she had to spare under a steady assault.