Highlander The Dark Dragon

by Donna Fletcher

  Before Heather could inquire about Glynnis, Seamus’s daughter called out for him.

  “My Alaina keeps an eye on me. She will not admit it, but she fears me being carted off one night, never to see me again. I am old and nearly crippled and of no use to the Dragon. You be careful, my lady, do not become useless to the Dragon or you too will disappear.”

  She watched him shuffle off, leaning heavily on his walking stick. She did not believe her husband evil, though her sensible side warned that two days’ time was not enough to truly know someone. Why then did she feel so strongly that evil did not reside in her husband? Her husband did, however, seem to be a man shrouded in mysteries and she was curious to solve them for her own peace of mind.

  Roy returned and she left him to finish his chore.

  Heather headed to the keep with thought of asking Nessa if she knew about Glynnis and what had happened to her. Her husband was bidding his uncle good-bye as she approached and she gave Ewan a wave as he rode by her.

  Her husband walked down the steps to meet her and stretched out his hand. “Time for us to talk.” One look at her soft pink lips and his thoughts were not on talking.

  Eager to speak with him, Heather hurried to take his hand, though once he took hold of it, a gentle tingle rippled through her. And for an instant something warned her to never let go.

  Rhys settled Heather in a chair in his solar and before he could say a word Heather spoke.

  “I am curious about something,” she said.

  “Only one thing?” he asked.

  Was that a slight smile she saw? Her own smile brightened at the thought that there was hope in getting the Dragon to smile. “One thing for now.”

  “Have your say, for there is much I have to say to you.”

  Heather did not let his chastising tone bother her. She continued on, though her heart thumped a bit harder as she asked, “Where have all the McCombs gone? I recognize so few faces.”

  “Who has been whispering in your ear?”

  His curt response sent her heart thumping even harder. “What do you mean?”

  He took a step closer to her. “Did you not say you wished for us to always be truthful with each other?”

  She nodded.

  “Then say what you will and be done with it.”

  He sounded as if it was an order, so this time she decided to obey him. “Why are the older McComb people disappearing?”

  He took another step closer and leaned over her, planting his hands on the arms of her chair. “That is not your concern.”

  Was it her curiosity or foolishness that had her pursuing it? “It is everyone’s concern when clan members vanish without explanation.”

  “How many times must I tell you that I rule here? My word is law. I need not explain myself to anyone. Your duty as my wife is to obey, without question. And that is what I expect you to do.”

  She inched forward in her seat, her heart racing wildly now as she brought her face closer to his. She could not pull her gaze from his dark eyes, for they seemed to invite her in. But the question was—what would she find there? And once there would she be lost forever?

  She spoke softly in almost a whisper as she said, “Is that what you truly want, a meek wife who never questions. A wife with no thoughts of her own?”

  Her breath was soft and sweet as it drifted across his lips like a faint kiss and the thought came fast and furious. Kiss her. Difficult as it was, he ignored the urge. “I want an obedient wife who will not anger me at every turn.”

  It struck her then like a great weight that surely had to be weighing him down, and she rested her hand to his cheek as she said, “What is it you fear?”

  He stepped back quickly as if he had been struck. “I fear nothing.”

  She stood. “I do not believe you. You reminded me about speaking the truth, now I ask the same of you.”

  Rhys reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Fear was beaten out of me a long time ago as was faith. Power is what matters. It controls. It rules. It is obeyed.”

  “Love matters more,” Heather said and was shocked to hear him laugh, though it was no humorous laugh.

  “You are foolish if you believe that. People do not follow and obey powerful Kings and Rulers or warriors out of love, they follow out of fear, they submit out of fear.”

  “So you would rather I fear you than love you?”

  “Love?” he said on a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. “You truly believe that you could love me?”

  “Why not?”

  “You will find out soon enough,” he said and released her, turning away.

  “Why is everything a mystery with you? What do you hide? What do you fear?”

  Rhys swerved around. “I hide what is necessary and did I not make it clear that I fear nothing? Enough of this nonsense,” he ordered with a wave of his hand. “There are other more important matters to discuss.”

  “There can be no matter more important than that of your wife one day possibly falling in love with you.”

  Rhys stepped closer to her. “I would prefer your obedience to love.”

  “I cannot promise you either one, but I believe one would be much easier than the other for me to give you.”

  Her voice was gentle, her words heartfelt, and her lips inviting.

  Kiss her.

  This time he did not ignore the urging. His arm hurried around her waist to pull her close and his lips settled eagerly on hers.

  Heather let herself be swallowed not only by his powerful arms, but his kiss as well. She had been waiting for him to kiss her, wanted him to kiss her and did not waste time wondering over why she enjoyed his kisses. She simply allowed herself to do so, for in his kiss was a mystery she intended to solve.

  He commanded well with words, but more so with his lips and she had no trouble obeying what he demanded of her, for she demanded of him as well. And the deeper the kiss delved the more she sensed she drew closer to uncovering the mystery.

  When he tore his mouth away from hers, she felt as if he took her breath with him and she gasped momentarily for air.

  Rhys lowered her to the chair and poured her some wine, handing her the goblet. “Drink.”

  She did not argue. She sipped at it as her breathing began to slowly return and the pleasurable tingle that had settled over her had begun to fade. She looked up at him at a loss for words.

  “Drink,” he ordered again, though this time with firmness that warned of any protest.

  It was not his demand that had her taking another sip. She took it because it helped calm her, for calmness was her only shield in dealing with the fiery Dragon.

  Rhys paced in front of her. Love. It had been foolish of her to have mentioned it and he let her know it. He stopped abruptly and pointed a finger at her. “There will be no more talk of love.” With that he stormed out the room.

  Heather jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. She took another sip of wine, wondering how she was ever going to manage being wed to the Dragon. She sat enjoying the solitude and quiet, and the wine.

  Feeling quite calm after finishing the wine, she planned to go in search of Nessa in hope of finding out about Glynnis and hoping the answer would not disturb her.

  The door opened abruptly and Rhys walked in. Shoving the door shut behind him, he walked over to her with a look on his face that for a moment frightened Heather. She was not sure if it was anger or passion she saw there. She took several anxious steps away from him, but he quickened his step and his arm shot out, coiling around her waist, yanking her forward, and slamming her against his hard chest.

  “You want to see the beast you truly married?” he said, though did not give her a chance to respond. His mouth came down on hers so harshly that it stole her breath.

  Chapter Eleven

  Heather did not struggle against Rhys’ overpowering kiss nor did she respond. She was too busy trying to breathe. It did not help with how tightly he held her against him with one arm or how r
oughly his other hand gripped the back of her head, forcing her mouth to remain on his. If his intentions were to show what a beast he could be, he need not have bothered. His size and strength alone had done that. She was not foolish enough to think that she could ever defend herself against him and hoped she would never have to. But now?

  He hoisted her up, not taking his mouth off hers and walked her to the door, planting her back against it and pressing his body tightly against hers. She felt him then. He was hard, thick, and large. And the image of what he possibly intended to do to her right here and now sent a ripple of fear through her.

  When he rubbed himself hard against her, his tongue drove deeper into her mouth and he stole the last bit of breath she was fighting to keep. She shoved at his shoulders, trying at least to push him away enough for her to breathe, but she met solid muscle and could not budge it.

  Her next action was instinctive. She challenged his tongue with her gentler one and stroked the side of his face with her hand as she did. He responded more quickly than she had expected and with his kiss easing she was able to slip her mouth off his, rest her brow to his, and take his face gently in her hands as she struggled to say, “You stole my breath.”

  He stared at her and she was caught in the depths of his dark eyes. They seemed to always mesmerize her. There was something there, something about them...

  “Be wary, wife, of the beast unleashed, for he cannot be harnessed or tamed,” he said as he lowered her so that her feet finally touched the floor.

  She rested her hand on his arm and as her breathing calmed, she said, “I would never be so cruel as to try to harness or tame a beast that lives wild and free. But if he wished to befriend me, I would welcome his friendship wholeheartedly.”

  “It would be foolish to befriend a wild beast.”

  “Not as foolish as to think to tame one.”

  “He could harm you.”

  “Or not,” she said softly.

  “Do not trust the beast,” Rhys warned.

  “I will not—at least not until he trusts me.” She brushed a kiss across his cheek and with quick steps left the solar, the door closing behind her this time.

  Rhys stared a few moments at the closed door, then went and poured himself a generous goblet of wine. He had meant to make her see the truth of who he was and to teach her a lesson. It had not gone as planned, but nothing seemed to be going as planned.

  Heather was so much more than he had imagined she would be. While she wisely feared, she also wisely did not let fear stop her. She was more of a courageous woman than she knew, for she had quieted the Dragon with a tender touch.

  She had infuriated him with her talk of love. A beast could not be loved nor could it give love. She needed to understand that and accept it.

  He went and sat in the chair near the hearth, stretching his long legs out, the flames leaping back as if fearful of him. He had fought to keep control of himself when he had kissed her, but his need had suddenly raged out of control when he covered her mouth with a kiss that was anything but gentle. She needed to see the consequences of irritating the Dragon. She needed to know what she would suffer and yet...

  He stood and poured himself more wine, though he had yet to finish what he had. He downed a mouthful and shook his head. He had been the one to suffer, the taste of her igniting a slumbering need, but it had been the remembrance of her gentle touch, the brush of her lips across his cheek, the mention of friendship that had left him, still now, hard and aching.

  There had been no one to call friend until he met Pitt and that had taken time to evolve into friendship and now the brotherhood they shared. Pitt had trusted faster than he had, but then he had rescued him from a pit where he had been left to die a slow death. When Rhys had asked his name, he had said Pitt, claiming a new name, for the man the culprits had dumped in the pit had emerged a far different person, much like Rhys had.

  Rhys was not who he once had been or ever would be again.

  He could never let the beast inside him rest. Never. It was the beast—the Dragon—who rose up and did what was necessary and God help his wife when the Dragon truly touched her.

  ~~~

  Heather slowed her steps as she approached the Great Hall. She wondered over her husband’s actions. Why had he tried to frighten her? Surely he realized that she did not know him well enough not to be afraid of him and certainly not well enough to believe she could trust him completely. He was still a stranger to her and that seemed odd to admit since after only two days with him she felt comfortable enough to accept his kisses and return them, something she had never expected. She had thought with time perhaps she would grow accustomed to intimacy with him, but to her great surprise she was not adverse to his kisses or his arm around her. How further intimacy would be she could not say, though recalling how hard and large he had felt against her was a bit of concern. The rough encounter had given her pause since before that she had enjoyed all encounters with him. But then he was a man of many mysteries of which needed solving.

  “Nessa,” Heather shouted as she entered the Great Hall and the servant hurried over to her. Before Nessa could say anything to her, Heather spoke. “I need to speak with you.” She lowered her voice. “It is important.”

  Nessa nodded. “Aye, my lady, this way.”

  Heather followed the servant through the passageway to the kitchen, then straight through the kitchen and out a door. They wound their way past several cottages until Nessa stopped at a small, well-kept one, a lovely garden surrounding most of it.

  “My home,” Nessa said and opened the door for Heather to enter.

  It was one room, neat and well-kept, what little furniture there was fitting nicely into the small space. Nessa offered her the one chair in the room while she sat on a small bench.

  “How can I help you, my lady?”

  “I was wondering if you knew what happened to Glynnis?”

  Nessa gasped. “All that is left of the McCombs wonder what happened to poor Glynnis. She was a pretty one with long dark hair and such lovely blue eyes. All the young men favored her but she had eyes for only one.” Nessa shook her head. “Sadly, he died. An accident, though many think otherwise.”

  “Why?”

  “The Dragon had summoned Glynnis often after his arrival and many believe he had taken a fancy to her and wanted her for himself. Some believe the Dragon holds her captive in the room on the upper floor, a slave to his wickedness.”

  “I was up there. The room is bolted.”

  Nessa’s eyes turned wide. “No one is allowed up there.” Her eyes grew even wider. “Good lord, he has locked her in, never to get out.”

  “I do not believe that and I wish to prove it. Do you know of any other way into the room?”

  Nessa turned silent for several minutes before saying, “I remember my mum telling me once that there was a secret way in and out of the keep from the upper floor. It was meant to help the laird’s family escape if necessary, but it was never used.” Nessa gasped. “That must be how he is able to get the women to the upper floor without anyone seeing them.”

  “The Dragon would have to have learned of the secret entrance to be able to use it. Who else knows of it?”

  Nessa chewed on her lower lip as she thought. She finally shook her head. “I cannot say, for my mum never said how she learned of it.”

  “Then you cannot say for sure if a secret passage does exist.”

  “No, though I do remember my mum tapping and pushing against walls in the rooms on the upper floor when we would see to cleaning the rooms there. She would look at me and tell me she was searching for secrets.”

  “Then I will continue her search.”

  Nessa jumped up. “Do you forget that the Dragon forbids anyone to go to the upper floor?”

  Heather stood, smiling. “I have no intention of disobeying my husband.”

  “Then wherever will you search?”

  “Outside,” she said, “and I can count on you not to breathe
a word of this?”

  “You have no worry there, my lady, and I would be pleased to help you anyway I can.”

  “I appreciate that, Nessa, but I will not see you suffer if caught helping me. I will do this on my own, for then I will be the only one answerable to the Dragon.”

  “As you wish, my lady, but I am willing if you should need me.”

  Nessa returned to her duties and Heather stood outside Nessa’s cottage, glancing up at the keep. It was a fair size, though seeing how the tower narrowed as it stretched to the upper floor made Heather realize how small the space actually was. The top portion was usually left as one large room and often used for storage of linens and such, but this top had been divided into three small sections when finished and she wondered why. Did it have something to do with the secret passage?

  Heather slowly made her way around the bottom of the keep toward the side she was most interested in. She was glad the area was not in view of the entire village. It was more secluded with no one about, a perfect place to make an escape.

  Her glance went to the ground instead of the keep itself. She walked over and squatted down, her hand going to an area of grass that appeared to have been trampled. Why would grass so close to the keep wall be trampled?

  “What are you doing there?”

  Heather fell back on her bottom startled by her husband’s stern voice.

  His hands quickly slipped under her arms and he lifted her to her feet.

  “I never hear you approach,” Heather said with a shake of her head.

  “And you never will, so do not think to hide anything from me.”

  “How did you learn to walk so that your footfalls were not heard?” she asked, taking his arm and leading him away from the keep and from her reason for being there.

  “An exceptional warrior taught me the skill.” There were times her beauty caught him unaware and this was one of those times. Her blonde hair glistened in the sunlight and her cheeks were tinged soft pink, her lips a deeper rose. Had his harsh kiss still lingered there, staining her lips? Her green eyes sparkled with almost as much pleasantness as her smile.