Fire Maidens: Portugal

by Anna Lowe

  For a moment, they watched the mismatched couple in silence. It was adorable — the tall, handsome young man dressed to the nines, gamely dancing with a widow three times his age. Helping her relive fond memories, perhaps, or giving her new ones.

  That could be us someday, Laura’s dragon side sighed. Dancing with our man, looking back over a happy lifetime.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get real. So, she’d danced with Marco once. That didn’t mean she was going to live happily ever after with him.

  But his eyes strayed to hers at exactly that moment and held on for a long time. As if she were the one in his arms, and he was looking into the future, too.

  Then another couple cut into the space between them, and Laura blinked.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, remembering Finn. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to dance.”

  Honestly, though, she wasn’t too enthused. Finn was great, but there was no chemistry there. Not like the fireworks Marco set off in her.

  He stuck up his hands. “Dance? And have my head torn off by Marco? I might be Irish, but I’m not mad, girl.”

  Laura frowned. “Why would he be upset?”

  Finn laughed. “If you have to ask, you’re as blind as he is.” Then he grabbed more wine off a tray as another one of the caterers passed. “I propose a toast. To love. To destiny.”

  Laura took her glass, not quite sure how to respond.

  “To destiny,” she murmured.

  She swished the wine around. The evening was turning out better than she’d expected. And who knew? It might get even better. She could chat with Paloma and dance with Marco again. She could take in the incredible views, listen to the beautiful music, and find something else about Madeira to fall in love with.

  Given a full stomach and another glass of wine, she might even be able to face Quintus if necessary. She scanned the room, hoping to intercept one of the caterers for some finger food. But as her eyes skimmed the far side of the room, the front door opened and a trio of new arrivals stepped in. The first was a striking brunette in a glittery gown with a plunging neckline. The woman sashayed in and paused as if waiting for everyone to break into applause. When no one seemed to notice, the woman frowned. She looked around, then froze, watching the dancers as so many others did.

  Watching Marco, Laura realized.

  Of course, that wasn’t unexpected, considering how people seemed stunned by Marco’s good looks and authoritative air. Even when the dance ended, the crowd watched Marco walk Dona Leonor over to a chair.

  But the woman in the doorway didn’t just watch Marco. She studied him as if contemplating something from her past. Her eyes wandered up and down his body, undressing him. Her lips quivered, and she touched them delicately. Sensually, even.

  Who’s that? Laura was about to ask when she recognized one of the men.

  Paloma murmured in disapproval, but Laura froze. Her pulse raced, and her heart pounded in alarm.

  “What is it?” Finn asked.

  Her mouth opened, but all she could do was squeak.

  “What’s wrong?” a deep voice asked.

  That was Marco, thank goodness. Still, Laura couldn’t speak. She was too busy keeping an eagle eye on the front door.

  Marco turned slowly, following her gaze. When he spotted the new arrivals, he stiffened too.

  “Duarte,” Laura finally whispered, identifying one of the three.

  Duarte, the dragon who had attacked her in Lisbon. The one with the pearly, perfect teeth.

  But while Laura’s hair stood at the sight of Duarte, Marco stiffened at the sight of the brunette. “Olivia.”

  “Olivia,” Paloma echoed in distaste.

  Laura’s eyes darted between Marco and the woman. Who was Olivia? And what the hell was Duarte doing there?

  Chapter Twelve

  Marco’s dragon growled as he looked across the room.

  Olivia.

  She didn’t look a day older than when he’d last seen her, and that had been a decade ago. If anything, most men would say she was more beautiful, but all Marco saw was more dangerous.

  Olivia slid her hand down the doorframe and jutted her hip, then spoke into his mind.

  Marco, querido. It’s been too long.

  It hasn’t been long enough, he nearly snorted, because he never wanted to see her again. But saying that would mean admitting what power she’d once held over him, and he wasn’t about to go there.

  Instead, he pulled a curtain over his thoughts, blocking her from reading his mind, and turned to Laura. The soft heat of her hand warmed his fingers, and he took a deep breath.

  Laura, his destined mate. He’d tried denying it before, but now, he was sure. The proof was in the way she’d pushed all the anger out of his heart after being riled up by those blustery bastards who’d questioned his honor.

  Are our own Comandos not good enough for you?

  Nothing was good enough for the old guard, and he was tired of justifying the path he’d chosen in life.

  But one touch and a few whispered words from Laura, and he’d forgotten what had bothered him so much.

  He stroked her hand with his thumb, determined to keep calm. Which was hard, because Laura’s pulse was hammering in alarm at the sight of Duarte. When her eyes met his, he forced a tight smile. He had no idea what Olivia wanted or what that had to do with Duarte. But whatever happened, he wouldn’t let them harm Laura.

  Marco glanced over to find Duarte — his own cousin — flashing Laura a shit-eating grin that said, Hello, amada. Remember me?

  Laura’s fingers trembled, but she bristled and stood her ground.

  One of the soldiers Marco had once served with used to say, A true warrior is wise enough to feel fear but strong enough to keep it under control.

  Marco’s nostrils flared. That fit Laura, all right.

  “What’s Duarte doing here?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” Marco glanced at Finn, who gave him a grim nod.

  I’ve got your back, man. You know I do.

  Marco nodded curtly. Trusting Finn with his life was easy. Trusting Finn with Laura’s life, on the other hand, was an entirely different thing.

  No one protects her but us, his dragon growled.

  Finn’s eyes flashed. Do you doubt me?

  Slowly, Marco turned back to Laura. “Stay with Finn. I’ll take care of this.”

  She stared deep into his eyes. “What exactly is this?”

  This was more than enough to deal with at one time. His ex-fiancée. His spoiled, self-entitled cousin. Quintus, the aloof alpha of the island. Somehow, they were all intertwined, and somehow, it all related to Laura. How?

  “This is complicated,” he said, wishing he had more time to explain.

  Laura’s eyes flashed, and he knew she wouldn’t let that fly. Thank goodness Dona Leonor — a close friend of his grandmother’s — approached with a look that warned things were even worse than he’d imagined.

  “Emilio Lombardi,” Dona Leonor seethed, pointing at the young man beside Duarte. “At least, he’s the spitting image of that no-good dragon.”

  The hair on the back of Marco’s neck stood. The Lombardis — here, on Madeira?

  Then again, Dona Leonor was over ninety years old. How good was her eyesight?

  Dona Leonor thumped him on the arm. “My eyesight is perfectly good, young man. That might not be Emilio, but it must be his son or grandson.”

  “Who?” Laura asked.

  Dona Leonor patted her arm. “Stay with me, sweetheart. I’ll explain.”

  Laura didn’t look satisfied. Olivia, meanwhile, greeted Quintus with a kiss to both cheeks, then a whisper. Quintus frowned and looked at Marco, then waved Olivia into his private study.

  Olivia ushered Duarte and the young Lombardi in. Then she held the door half open, beckoning to Marco in a way that whispered, Come along, querido. I promise, I’ll make it good.

  Good god. Was the woman offering him a business deal o
r a quick fuck?

  Not interested in either, Marco’s dragon growled.

  Still, he stalked across the room — to Quintus, his host.

  “What the hell is Olivia doing here?” Marco hissed to the older dragon. “And how dare you host a Lombardi?”

  Quintus’s nostrils flared in anger. “Olivia owns an estate on the island, as you must know.”

  Marco made a face. Oh, he knew, all right. First, Olivia had set her sights on him in a scheme to wed her way into wealth. She’d been born with a title but no money. And Marco, young, gullible fool that he’d once been, had fallen for her. He’d even brought his fiancée to his favorite place in the world, Madeira, and introduced her to the local nobility. Why not?

  He hadn’t thought anything of it when Olivia danced with Enrico de Tomé, a decades-older dragon, at one of Quintus’s parties. But clearly, that had started the gears turning in Olivia’s mind. Why stick with Marco, who would only inherit a handful of mansions and estates when she could slither her way into the arms of an aging dragon who owned a quarter of Madeira?

  “Olivia doesn’t own that estate. Enrico did,” Marco said through clenched teeth.

  Quintus laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. She inherited his wealth, but not his power.”

  Marco stared. Did the old man really think Olivia would be content with that? “And now she’s here with a member of the Lombardi clan. How dare you host one of them?”

  Quintus waved his hand, unconcerned. “They’re no danger to us.”

  Marco stared. Years earlier, the Lombardis had nearly seized power in Europe, and they had recently launched a second campaign to vie for ultimate control of Europe’s great cities.

  “They’re a danger to Lisbon,” he pointed out.

  Quintus’s face contorted. “Let them take Lisbon. What has Lisbon ever done for us? We are a sovereign territory.”

  Marco couldn’t believe his ears. It was one thing for Quintus to guard Madeira’s independence. But did his pride blind him to the obvious threat posed by the Lombardis?

  “The Lombardis aren’t interested in a single stronghold in Europe. They want a foothold from which to expand. They’ve already attempted coups in Paris, London, and Rome. Lisbon could be next — and then Madeira.”

  Quintus laughed. “No one will ever take Madeira.”

  Marco shook his head. Quintus was as oblivious to danger as Marco had once been to Olivia’s greed.

  He turned to the study, scowling. “And you have no objection to Olivia scheming with a Lombardi?”

  Quintus shrugged. “That woman is always scheming. But she is no threat to my power.”

  “Perhaps you underestimate her.”

  Quintus glowered. “Perhaps you underestimate me. You may have inherited an estate here, as Olivia did—”

  “Mine comes from family, not scheming.” Marco cut in.

  Quintus ignored him. “—but like her, you do not hold any power here. Do I make myself clear?”

  Marco nearly barked back in challenge, but Laura pinned him with a look from across the room.

  Whatever you’re about to explode over, calm down.

  Marco exhaled slowly. She was right. Riling up Quintus wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  “The Guardians exiled the Lombardis for a reason,” Marco pointed out, trying to keep cool.

  Quintus’s cheeks turned red. “Those were the Guardians of Lisbon and other cities. We make our own decisions here on Madeira. Have you forgotten?”

  Marco shook his head. Madeira’s dragons were famous for their fiery independence. But when had they grown so overconfident? And what about the treaty of mutual assistance the Madeirans had signed with the Guardians of Lisbon?

  “Coming, querido?” Olivia called sweetly from the door of the study.

  Marco jutted his jaw. He was not her darling. And, shit. An evening that had started better than he’d anticipated was turning into a nightmare.

  Still, there was no arguing with Quintus, and he had to discover what Olivia was up to. So he stalked to the study, glowering at Olivia the whole time.

  If you try anything sneaky… his dark eyes warned.

  She faked a sweet, innocent look. Wouldn’t dream of it.

  No? Then why did she sidestep, forcing him to brush against her on the way in?

  Marco bared his teeth. He’d fallen for her seductive tactics a long time ago, but now, the contact only made him cringe.

  Behind him, Olivia closed the door with a satisfied click, cutting off the noise of the party.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Marco barked at all three — Olivia, Duarte, and the young Lombardi.

  Duarte chuckled, flashing those too-perfect teeth, then made himself comfortable on a leather recliner, stretching out with his hands behind his head like he owned the place. Olivia sashayed over to his side and placed her hand on Duarte’s shoulder.

  This could be you, Marco, enjoying my favors, her man-eater look said.

  As if Marco was interested.

  “Why, darling,” Olivia cooed. On the surface, she was all chiseled perfection. But now that Marco was closer, he could see the marks left not by time, but by greed and ambition. Her skin was pinched, her cheeks drawn, and the lines around her mouth were deeper. “I decided it was high time to check in on my properties on Madeira. We just arrived.”

  His eyebrows jumped at the we. “Isn’t Duarte a little young for you? I thought rich old men were your thing.”

  Duarte’s shit-eating grin widened. Clearly, he had no idea he was being played by Olivia.

  Olivia fluttered her oversized eyelashes. “Really, Marco. What would my dearly departed Enrico say if he heard you?”

  “He’d say, ‘I can’t believe what a fool I was.’ And he would tell Duarte not to make the same mistake.”

  Olivia petted Duarte’s shoulder. “Don’t mind him, docinho. Jealousy is an ugly thing.”

  Marco went on as if he hadn’t heard. “Since Duarte doesn’t have a great fortune, one has to wonder what you’re using him for.”

  Olivia’s eyes hardened, telling him how close he was to the truth. Still, she kept her laugh lighthearted. “I’m just a lonely widow. Can you blame me for keeping good company?”

  Marco gnashed his teeth. True mates committed themselves to their partners forever — even after one’s death. But not Olivia. She was out there, playing the field.

  Always scheming, Quintus had said.

  The question was, what exactly was she after now? Marco turned, pointing to the young Lombardi — a slick, twentysomething-year-old in a tailored suit. “Do you call him good company?”

  The young man’s dark eyes shone as he glowered. “I beg your pardon.”

  Olivia stepped closer to him, wearing her best pouty look. “Don’t mind him, Luigi. There’s a word for men like Marco.”

  “Bitter,” Duarte filled in. “Washed-up. Callous.”

  Marco frowned. Bitter, yes. Absolutely. Callous, possibly. But washed-up? Hardly. And ever since Laura had come into his life…

  His heart filled with happily fluttering butterflies, and his pulse skipped.

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed, and Marco went cold. Who knew what cruel revenge Olivia might take if she knew what Laura meant to him?

  What does she mean to you? his dragon whispered.

  He gulped, thinking of their long flight over from the mainland. Quiet mornings on the terrace. The easy, I was born for you movements of their dance.

  Everything, he realized. Laura meant everything to him.

  He forced the notion behind a stone wall in his mind and stared Olivia down.

  “There’s a word for men like him, too.” Marco pointed to the young outsider. “Exiled. You are a Lombardi, correct?”

  Luigi huffed. “I am. But it was my uncles who were exiled, not me.”

  Marco didn’t buy it — not the way the young man’s eyes glinted at the mention of his family’s name.

  “All Lombardis were exiled,” Marco growled.


  “Not from Madeira,” Olivia pointed out.

  Marco tried to keep his cool. Getting angry wouldn’t help him understand what was going on. “I see. Why is he here, then?”

  Olivia waved as if that were self-evident. “He’s my guest. Duarte introduced us.”

  Marco narrowed his eyes. What they were up to, he didn’t know. But the basics were easy enough to picture. Duarte and Luigi — two dissatisfied, low-ranking, self-entitled bastards — had decided to join forces in some kind of plot to gain power and acceptance. A half-baked plot, knowing Duarte, who never thought things through.

  But Olivia did. If she’d caught wind of their plans and gotten involved… That was a totally different matter. Olivia was ambitious, and not in a good way. Early on, she’d targeted Marco. Then she’d shifted her sights to Enrico, the richest dragon on Madeira. And now…

  Marco’s brow furrowed. Now that Olivia was filthy rich, what could she possibly desire?

  Power, his dragon side hissed.

  His mind spun, slowly piecing it all together. Olivia might have the greatest fortune on Madeira, but she lacked political power. Quintus had made sure of that, and she wouldn’t dare take him on directly. But if she could manipulate a couple of fools like Duarte and Luigi into doing her dirty work…

  Marco stared, trying to read her mind. But Olivia had shuttered off her thoughts as tightly as he had. Her mind was a cold, icy wall.

  Luigi motioned out the windows. “When Duarte described the beauty of Madeira, I knew I had to see for myself. And this island — like my gracious hostess — is even more enchanting than I imagined.” Luigi finished with a fawning bow toward Olivia.

  Marco didn’t buy a word. Enchanting? Luigi had barely glanced at the stunning views. Promising was more like it. The promise of personal gain.

  “I see,” Marco said through clenched teeth. “And how long do you plan to stay?”

  Luigi’s eyes glinted. “My plans are flexible.”

  “And how long do you plan to stay, querido?” Olivia walked over and raised a hand as if to stroke his chest.

  Marco caught her wrist and gripped it hard. Too hard, really, but there was no other way. Olivia could play games with boys like Duarte, but not with him.