Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  “Indeed,” he managed, his heart pounding as she clasped his hand in hers. Her skin was smooth, soft, warm—and this close, he could smell the sweet, soft scent of her hair. What did she wash it with to make it so lustrous, so silky? He found himself aching to run his fingers through it, just once. He was acutely aware that they were alone in the room together now, and he cleared his throat, a little shocked by the way his mind was running away with him. “I’ll look forward to it, my Queen.”

  “Oh, Stephen.” She chuckled, all but stopping his heart. “Given that we’re to be joined to one another tomorrow morning, I think you can call me Reagan, don’t you?”

  “Reagan,” he managed, hoping desperately that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. God, why had he agreed to meet her in his human form? His dragon form didn’t give away his feelings like this. Then again, he hadn’t known what an effect she’d have on him. “Until tomorrow.”

  “Until tomorrow,” she echoed with a smile.

  Then the door was closed, leaving him alone again—and more shell-shocked than he’d ever felt in his life.

  Chapter 4

  Reagan

  Reagan couldn’t sleep. She’d stayed up long into the night, poring over every record and report of attacks from Clifford in a vain attempt to busy her mind until it tired. But although reading long-winded descriptions from foreign dignitaries would usually put her to sleep in twenty minutes, tonight she’d had no such luck. Her mind simply kept straying from the paperwork and back to the handsome dragon who was staying in the room next door to her.

  What was it about him that had captured her attention so completely? She’d been expecting some stuffy royal archivist—the kind of dragon who’d spent so much time poring over books that he’d forgotten how to do anything else. But though Stephen’s intelligence was clear in the way he’d spoken, there was something else there, too. What was it? Some spark in his eyes, some tone in his voice—even exchanging diplomatic pleasantries with him had been somehow thrilling. She’d fiercely regretted showing him to his chambers, letting him leave her sight, and then scolded herself, shocked by her own feelings. What was it about this stranger she’d just met that was so distracting to her?

  Maybe that was why she was insisting on poring over these records—guilt at having forgotten, for a few minutes, what the purpose of this alliance was. Clifford had been sighted dangerously close to their valley and gaining ground every day, according to the scouts that had been keeping an eye on his position. But her mind just kept creeping back to Stephen. What did he think of her, she wondered? There’d been something reserved about him, she could tell. A sense that he was holding himself back, especially when his guards had been led off to their quarters and the two of them had been left alone for a moment. Well, of course, he was a little guarded, she scolded herself. He’d only just met her.

  What if he was unhappy about this match? She realized with a jolt that they’d barely discussed it. Had this union been his idea? Or, like her, had it been proposed to him without him having any input whatsoever? He seemed happy enough to be here. But then again, royalty was trained in putting on a brave front. That was diplomacy. What if she’d disappointed him?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered aloud, shocked and irritated with her thoughts. What on earth did she care what he thought about her? She was the queen of the valley—a damn good queen, too, if she was being honest. She was strong, intelligent, capable, a fierce fighter. What possible issue could he take with her as a match?

  Before she knew it, the sun was creeping over the horizon, and she took a deep breath, getting to her feet and stretching. It wouldn’t be the first sleepless night she’d spent, though the reason for the sleeplessness was certainly new. Slowly, she changed into the golden gown that she’d had made for the occasion. It set off her eyes and her bronze skin rather fetchingly, she had to reflect, gazing at herself approvingly in the mirror. Odd—she’d never given much thought to how she looked. She dressed her human form a certain way to demonstrate her position, of course, but she’d rarely considered whether or not she looked attractive. What was going on with her? Why was her dragon so restless?

  The ceremony was simple. The Elders were there, and a few invited guests from both kingdoms, but it was far from the raucous celebration of some mating ceremonies she’d attended. Dignified, she thought to herself as the vows were being exchanged, her hands tingling as Stephen held them in his. Very dignified. Stuffy, an uncharitable soul might say. But still, when he took her into his arms for the ceremonial first dance, she didn’t feel stuffy at all. She felt electrified. It was all she could do to focus on the steps, to move with grace and dignity, to gaze up at his handsome face as he guided her around the dance floor, the approving eyes of the community following them.

  The celebration took the better part of the day. She and Stephen were busy the entire time—it felt like everybody in the valley had to have a detailed conversation with them about what the union would mean, what security measures were being taken to defend them all from Clifford. The reason for the arrangement wasn’t far from anyone’s mind. Stephen was wonderful, she thought approvingly, watching him answer question after question about military tactics without the slightest sign of frustration. She hadn’t realized until now how much work she’d always done by herself. A week ago, this kind of event would have burned her out completely. Having another person there to answer the questions too—well, she could see why kings and queens ruled together.

  But in the back of her mind, burning like a fire, she just couldn’t dismiss the way she felt about him. Her whole body was still tingling with the way he’d held her close on the dance floor. She’d danced with dozens of people—it was a traditional social activity at balls and gatherings, and she was nothing if not a well-trained Queen—but it had never felt like that. She’d never felt this kind of fire in her chest, this kind of desire to dance with someone again, to feel them pull her close …

  She fought hard to keep the look of dismay from her face as she glanced up at Stephen. Was it possible—could it be that she was falling in love with him?

  God, how inconvenient.

  Chapter 5

  Stephen

  The day passed by in a blur. Stephen managed to distract himself from the roaring of his dragon by immersing himself in the work of diplomacy. This, at least, he knew how to do. His and Albert’s parents had seen to that, training both of their sons in the art of conversation. There was a knack to guiding a conversation, doing it in such a way that your subjects would feel validated and heard—a way to affirm your authority as King without trampling over their rights as citizens. It was a balancing act, and Stephen was pretty good at it.

  But Reagan—she was something else. She was utterly magnificent. She seemed to glow from within, lit up like a star in the center of the ballroom where their ceremony took place. Every time her golden eyes fell on someone, it was as though she saw nobody else but them. Stephen could see why the people of the kingdom adored their young queen so much. Compliments rushed in, sly comments about how lucky he was, but he tried to keep his distance a little. They were right—she was a wonderful Queen, and he couldn’t wait to rule alongside her, as partners.

  But this wasn’t a mating ceremony in the traditional sense. They weren’t in love, were they? They were basically business partners. So as much as he may have wanted to savor the feeling of holding her in his arms, of the touch of her arm on his as they walked around the ballroom conversing with their guests—he knew it was all strictly business. As much as his dragon roared, he knew he had to keep control of himself. He may have been her King now, but he wasn’t her mate.

  Even if he was rapidly beginning to suspect that she was his.

  Finally, the festivities began to die down. Guests were leaving one by one, and they said their goodbyes courteously. Was she tired? She didn’t seem it—she was every bit as radiant as she waved goodbye to the last guest, a green-eyed dragon called William, who she’d in
troduced as a close advisor. His dragon had roared with jealousy at the familiarity between them, and he’d had to fight down the urge to bristle until he’d met William’s mate Francesca. Ridiculous. He was going to need to get control of himself before this became a problem. What was wrong with him?

  “I’m utterly exhausted,” Reagan told him, her golden eyes glowing with amusement as she looked up at him. He smiled, even as his stomach did a backflip.

  “You don’t seem tired at all.”

  “Queens don’t get tired,” she said archly, striking an imperious pose that made his smile broaden into a grin. “Queens are ever gracious, indefatigable, and impervious to all earthly woes.”

  “Of course. How could I forget?”

  “Would you like to dine with me?” she asked, and was that a note of hesitation in her voice? “I’m aware we’ve spent very little time together, and if we’re to rule alongside each other—well, it would be nice to—”

  “Of course!” he said quickly, biting his tongue as he realized he’d cut her off. “I mean—I’d like that very much.”

  “If you’re not too tired, of course. Today was—a lot.”

  “Princes don’t get tired either, my Queen.”

  “Prince?” She raised an eyebrow as they walked the winding corridors towards her chambers. “You’re a King now, Stephen.”

  The word settled on him like an unfamiliar cloak. “King,” he said softly, trying it out. He was intensely aware of her scrutiny, reminded himself that this was a Queen that he was talking to. Still, some part of him couldn’t help but want to share something of himself with her. Something true, not simply more courtesies and etiquette-heavy small talk. “That word had always seemed to belong to my brother alone. It feels a little strange.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” she said, surprising him with the softness of her voice. “For as long as I can remember, it was my mother who was the Queen. I still catch myself looking for her sometimes, when I hear the title spoken.” She smiled. “You’ll grow accustomed to it, as I have. And you’ll be a good king, Stephen. I can tell.”

  They’d reached her chambers now, and there was an odd silence between them. He wanted to thank her for her reassurances, and on a more impulsive level, wanted to tell her a little of what he felt for her, of what had been roaring in his chest since the minute they’d met. And on a deeper level than that, down in the pit of his chest where his dragon was still growling, he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her as though the world was ending …

  There was a curious look in her golden eyes, and he realized with a start that he’d been staring. He cleared his throat hard, averted his gaze, tried to get control of his breathing as they hovered in the doorway to her chambers. Beyond her, he could see the table was set for a meal for two, a bouquet of flowers on the table between the plates.

  “Stephen? Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded stiff even to him. To hide his discomfort, he ushered her into the room, avoiding her gaze as they took their seats at the table. Good. This was safe. A safe distance from her—her and her hypnotic eyes and the warmth of her skin. “A little tired, I think.”

  Was that disappointment on her face? “Of course.”

  “Today has been wonderful,” he said quickly. “I’m looking forward to our partnership, Reagan.” He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t enjoying her company.

  That was the problem. He enjoyed her company far too much.

  Chapter 6

  Reagan

  It felt nice, sitting in her chambers and eating with someone. Reagan was used to dining alone—and as a result, she usually kept herself company with some paperwork or reading materials, dispatches from neighboring kingdoms. Sitting with someone meant she wasn’t so distracted and could actually taste her food. One of the perks of the human form, eating like this. In her dragon shape, meals were a lot simpler, but also a lot less social. Hunting the plentiful herds of deer that lived in the valley tended to be a pretty solitary pursuit. So sitting with Stephen, talking and laughing as they ate—it was a new experience. And, she had to admit, a pleasant one—even though she was worried about spilling food on her elegant gown. That was the benefit of scales—no food stains.

  Her mind kept trying to return to a question that had been burning in her almost since she’d met Stephen, but she didn’t trust herself to give it too much thought with him sitting right there opposite her, that luminous smile of his lighting up the very center of her. They’d been joined in a permanent union—the same way soulmates were. And she’d been to enough mating ceremonies—and heard enough jokes about them—to know what was expected the evening of a ceremony like this one. Did Stephen have expectations? Would he want to take her to bed the minute they’d finished their meal? Should she protest?

  Because no matter how hard she tried to avoid thinking about it, the truth was that she didn’t want to protest. If anything, she wanted to throw this table with all its elaborate place settings aside and hurl herself at the man sitting opposite her.

  It was an impulse that frightened her a little. She’d never felt this about another person, never felt such a strong, magnetic draw as she did to Stephen. When he’d held her close during their dance—god, she’d felt like she was going to pass out or explode. But she’d kept control of herself, focused on her breathing, focused on her training. She was a Queen, not some lovesick adolescent who’d been swept off her feet by the first handsome guy to come along.

  But god, she wanted him.

  Was it possible that he was her mate? That by some bizarre trick of fate or chance or destiny, her destined soulmate was the same man that had been assigned to her in a political union of convenience? Her heart pounded at the very thought. Could she truly be so fortunate? But surely if that was the case, Stephen would have said something. If they were soulmates, they’d both know straight away, the minute they laid eyes on each other. Wasn’t that what all the legends said? But no—he was being a perfect gentleman. She fought the disappointment in her chest as he rose to his feet, offering her a polite little bow as he headed for his chambers.

  A mad, reckless impulse rose in her as he headed for the door. Before she knew it, she was on her feet, too, following him as he moved through the doorway and into the passage beyond. She had no idea what she was planning to do—all she knew was that the idea of spending the night without him was absolutely intolerable. This might be the biggest mistake of her life, but it also might be the most important reckless choice she’d ever made …

  “Stephen!”

  Reagan frowned. Though she’d been about to call his name, the voice that had shouted wasn’t hers. Dismay erupted in her chest as she looked down the hallway—two men she vaguely recognized as belonging to Stephen’s retinue of guards were striding up the hall, identical looks of concern on their faces. Reagan caught herself in the doorway, affecting a casual pose, as though she’d just been saying goodnight and hadn’t, in fact, been about to throw herself into his arms like a lovesick girl …

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Scouts just got back,” one of the guards said, breathing hard, and Reagan felt apprehension stir in her stomach, her feelings about Stephen briefly taking a back seat to the ongoing concerns about Clifford’s invasion. And sure enough: “They spotted Clifford’s forces, gathering to the north. Maybe a day away, if that.”

  “Who’s to the north?” Stephen wanted to know.

  “Nobody,” Reagan said grimly. “If Clifford’s heading this way, he’s coming for us.”

  Stephen nodded firmly, his jaw tight. “Right. Whoever’s best rested—head straight to King Albert for reinforcements. Clifford’s counting on this valley being under-defended—but with enough of a force to hold it, we’ve got a much better tactical position. We could end his reign here and now.” His eyes flashed towards Reagan. “If my Queen agrees?”

  “Clifford’s proven time and time again, there’s no reasoning with him,”
she said coldly. “If he dies in battle, it means the safety of every other dragon on the continent. I say, take no prisoners.”

  Stephen nodded. His guards sketched brief little bows and headed up the hallway, almost running in their urgency to get out of the building and into the sky. Stephen and Reagan watched them go.

  “Earlier than I expected,” he said softly, glancing back at her. “It’s possible Clifford heard we were joining our forces and wanted to strike us down before we got too strong.”

  “Too late,” Reagan said, impulsively taking his hands in hers. He smiled down at her, clearly a little surprised, but there was a guarded look in his eyes that made her release him, suddenly unsure of herself. And was that disappointment on his face? She just couldn’t get a read on this guy. “We’d better get some rest,” she said softly, cursing her own cowardice.

  “Of course. Goodnight, my Queen.”

  “Damnit,” Reagan whispered to the empty hallway. It was going to be a long, restless night—and not just because she’d be thinking about the attack.

  Couldn’t she have just one crisis at a time?

  Chapter 7

  Stephen

  It was a restless night for Stephen. Part of him was lying awake thinking about the impending attack, about defending his new home from invaders almost the same day he’d moved into it. It was certainly one way to settle into a place, though he had to admit, a tour of the palace and the library would be much preferable to being attacked by violent invaders. Still, he knew how to fight, and a grim part of him was looking forward to showing Clifford and his forces exactly what they were tangling with.