by Victoria Zak
As his men fussed over him, James kept his eyes on Abigale. Alice hugged her and bragged over her healing abilities. His kinsmen, one by one, took their turn thanking her as well.
Once his kinsmen dispersed, Abigale started for the door. “Where are ye going?”
She turned around. “I was going to look for a place to rest for a while. I’ll be back soon.”
“Nay lass, this is yer bedchamber. Ye’ll sleep here.”
“Are ye sure? I can find another room.” Abigale worked her hands nervously into her apron.
Grinning, James pulled back the covers, offering her a warm place to snuggle. “My lady.”
Deep blue eyes stared back at him. Abigale untied her bloodstained apron and slowly unlaced the front of her dress. Intently watching as she crawled onto the bed, James motioned for her to come closer. Dropping his view to her chest, he could see straight down her under dress. Her perfect breasts begged for his touch. By the saints, this lass was going to be the death of him. The shadows under her eyes told him how exhausted she was. Damn him for thinking with his cock; she needed sleep.
Abigale laid her soft body next to his. Her warmth pulled him in and held him captive. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until their bodies molded together. This tantalizing feeling was the same he’d felt back in his dream. It was like he was basking in the sun, soaking up its rays without a care in the world. Is this what Conall meant? A woman's love bringing peace? Love…well maybe he shouldn’t go that far, but this sensation was like paradise.
He knew he was probably being selfish by wanting her next to him instead of letting her sleep. Truth be told, when Abigale was around, she chased his demons away. There was no doubt that she was the one who had chased the soul collector away. She was the light to his darkness. James closed his eyes and kissed the top of Abigale’s head. “Sweet dreams my bel ange.”
Knowing where his demon hid, he would take these moments, cherish them, and commit them to memory. It wouldn’t work out between them. How could it? She was human and he was Dragonkine. As soon as she found out the truth, she would be gone. No man with his amount of uncontrollable vengeance could possibly be honorable enough to deserve a happy life. The English had taken so much from him that he feared, no matter how much blood was shed, it would never be enough. Even if she could forgive his evil ways, he was still a dragon.
A young Dragonkine that needed the thrill of battle in order to quench his dragon’s lust for blood. Joining the king’s rebellion allowed him to tame the beast.
His enemies were out there and he knew it. Welcomed it. This was why he vowed to never take a wife. Just the thought of something happening to Abigale in retaliation for his wrong-doings stirred a sinister feeling deep inside him. Which led him to believe this was no accident. Nay, the arrow being this close to his heart was no accident at all; he’d been a target.
Unease settled in his bones. Someone had tried to kill him, but who had taken the shot? Undoubtedly, the attacker had to have known he was Dragonkine, for he used a poison arrow. No mortal arrow could kill a dragon. Furthermore, the marksman was quite skilled with a bow.
James clung to Abigale. Could there be a weed in the garden that needed to be pulled? A kinsman betraying not only their clan, but the whole of the Dragonkine Guard? James ground his teeth together as he thought about one of his brethren turning on him. He needed to talk with Magnus soon.
13
If you can’t take the heat, don’t tickle the dragon. ~ Anonymous
“Och, lass.” James sucked in a breath. “Touch me like that again and I'll have ye on yer back quicker than I can draw my sword.” He arched a brow. Even though he didn’t want a wife, he still very much desired the lass.
The last two days had proven to him that he indeed liked Abigale's company, and it didn’t help that his dragon was relentless with need as well. He made himself known by stirring inside James’s body, insisting to be around Abigale.
“Ye mean like this.” Abigale blushed as she skimmed her fingers across his ribs, teasing him as she unwrapped his bandages.
James squirmed in reaction. “Aye, bel ange." If only his men could see him now, chuckling like a wee lad, they would tease him relentlessly. Truth be told, he craved her touch a little more than he had the right to.
“My father speaks French, though I never learned. It’s a beautiful language.” She smiled. “He would call me his bel Abigale when he would visit me at the nunnery. I cherished his visits, especially not knowing when he would come again.”
James noticed how Abigale’s mood seemed to sadden when she talked about her father. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could stare into her blue eyes. Pas aussi belle que vous. James smiled. Indeed, not as beautiful as ye. “My father sent me, my younger brother, and mother to live in Paris when I was nine years old. He wanted our family safe and far away from the English. Bloody Sassenach made my father surrender Castle Douglas.”
“What happened to yer father?”
“He was left to rot in the Tower of London. They called it a traitor’s death.” Hatred lingered in his every word.
“I’m so sorry, James.”
“Aye, me too.” He changed the subject quickly, for bringing up that part of his past was no good. He already felt his dragon growling. “I can assure ye, Abigale, if yer da could have, he would have come to see ye more.”
“It does no’ matter anymore. He had the chance to make it up to me and well—”
“He married ye off to the Bogeyman.” James saw it in her eyes; she, too, did not want this marriage.
“I dinnae mean it that way. I’m happy here.” She looked up and smiled. Abigale unwrapped the last bandage. “Hmmm.” Her brows furrowed as she felt around the wound, examining it.
“What?”
“James, yer wound is healed,” Abigale informed him.
He’d forgotten about his healing abilities. No wonder she looked confused. “Well, that’s because I had an excellent nurse."
“But, the severity of yer wound—”
“Abigale, ye healed me.” His tone was firm.
Knowing better than to push him, Abigale changed the subject. “What was Paris like?”
Bloody hell, what were all the questions? Details of his life in Paris were difficult to explain and now wasn’t the time. He wouldn’t know where to begin, for he’d gone through hell. His mother had died a few months after arriving. Some said it was the black plague that took her, but James knew differently. She’d died of a broken heart. Elizabeth loved his father so much that she couldn't live without him. Knowing that her husband was most likely dead or imprisoned, she had fallen into a deep depression and died.
After his mother’s death, he and his brother were left to fend for themselves. Poor and with nowhere to go, they lived in the back alleys of Paris, barely surviving. Up until that point, James had been strong and took care of wee Archie, always making sure he ate his fill first, while James went without most nights. But fate played a cruel hand when James became sick and his wee brother had to take care of him. James fought a burning fever, agonizing body aches, and violent vomiting. It had been two miserable weeks and he was weak and scared. He was certain the plague was taking his life. What he had suffered from was no sickness; he’d gone through his transformation to Dragonkine.
This part of his life was off limits, sealed up tight, never to be opened.
James felt a warm hand covering his arm and saw Abigale leaning toward him. “Ye dinnae have to tell me, James. I understand. The past is the past.”
Indeed, he did want to tell her everything in the hope she would accept who he was but sheltering her from the truth was the best thing to do.
“Ye do have to tell me what bel ange means.”
James moved closer to the edge of the bed so Abigale was standing between his legs. He reached up and cupped her face, pulling her closer. James stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and rested his forehead against hers. She ha
d the most beautiful eyes. “It means beautiful angel.”
Pressing his lips to Abigale’s, he kissed her gently at first until her mouth opened, reassuring him that she wanted his kisses. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth. Heat flooded through him and his cock hardened as she ran her hands up and down his shoulders to his neck. His dragon roared, vibrating his core. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until the softness of her breasts pressed against his bare chest, searing his flesh. James ran his hands down her back, pausing at her tiny waist. If he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t be able to.
He fisted her skirts, trying to contain the desire and douse the flames. He pulled away, ending their kiss. “Abigale, ye make me want things I can no’ have.”
Abigale whispered, “Whatever ye’re going through, please let me help. Please let me in.”
James closed his eyes and wished it was that easy. Lust couldn’t win over logic. “I feel like I’m too close to the edge and about to—”
Abigale firmly grabbed his face between her hands. “Then jump. I’ll catch ye.”
James jaw tightened and he damned himself for a fool. Pulling her on top of him, he leaned back on the bed, bringing her with him. He grabbed her arse tight. Pure desire took over as he rolled her over on her back. He kissed her neck and pulled down her dress so he could feast his eyes on her beautiful breasts. He flicked his tongue over a pink nipple and sucked until it became hard. Abigale moaned in pleasure, encouraging her husband to keep up with his wicked assault on her body.
He’d never hungered for a woman like this before. Feeling like a greedy bastard, he was going to take what she offered, make love to her until she screamed his name. She was his wife, so bedding her was his right. Aye?
In a lust-crazed frenzy, James pulled up her skirts, all the while kissing her breasts. His hands finally reached her bare legs. Bare legs? The lass wore no stockings. He paused for a moment and cocked a brow at Abigale. “Yer stockings?”
Abigale unleashed an innocent smile and shrugged. “I was hot.”
That smile, so pure yet devious, sent him further spiraling out of control. He slid his over her womanhood and… By the saints, he burned for her.
Abigale completely lost herself in James’s wicked ways; he’d awakened a deep desire she never knew she had. His kisses burned her flesh and his touch lit a fire that heated her core. She thought she would go up in flames when she felt his hand on her sex.
Disbelief set in as she thought about pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Except she couldn’t will her hands away from exploring the expanse of his broad shoulders and the ridged peaks and valleys of his well-defined body. It was as if she was a prisoner under his control and she had no plan for escape.
A voice off in the distance broke her thoughts as she heard a young boy call out to Fergus.
“Fergus?” she said out loud.
James halted his assault on her neck and looked down at her. “Och, lass, that’s not the name I wanted to hear from ye.” He smirked. “I was thinking maybe James, or better yet, Laird Douglas of Angus, take me now, ye—”
“Shhh. I think I heard someone call out to Fergus.” God, was she going daft? A beautiful man was about to make love to her and she was hearing voices? Nay, she could have sworn she heard her horse’s name.
Ignoring the distraction, Abigale pushed her hands through James’s hair, pulling him down into a mind-blowing kiss as she forgot about everything and focused on the moment at hand.
A voice louder than the last rang through her passion-filled fog. This time, she heard it clearly. She was not crazy. “Did ye hear it?” She tried to get up, but it was pointless. James wasn’t letting her go.
“Nay.” James kissed down her neck and continued driving her crazy like the outside world didn’t exist.
Abigale heard the voice again. “James, please stop." At least that’s what her mouth said but her body told him another story. “I need to see what’s going on."
With a huff, James rolled over, letting Abigale escape. Adjusting her dress, Abigale slipped out of bed and went to the window overlooking the bailey. Still trying to gather her thoughts, she fumbled with the fur covering. Once she found the opening, she peeked out and couldn’t believe her eyes. “Oh no!”
James shot up. Well, he’d given it his best effort, for his cock was hard as a rock and his body was aching for release. “What is it?” he growled.
“Fergus has run away from his stall and Neven is trying to catch him. I must go.” Abigale began to search the chamber for her shoes. There was no time to waste, the lad was going to end up hurting himself. Fergus never allowed anyone but her to handle him.
She found her shoes. “I’m sorry, James, but if I dinnae go and calm Fergus down, he will injure Neven. I can no’ let that happen.”
James let out a frustrated huff. “I assure ye, Neven can handle Fergus. Now come back to bed, I’m no’ done with ye, lass.”
Abigale shot her husband a ye-can-no-be-serious look as she slipped on her other shoe.
“Och, I suppose ye’re right,” James said in defeat.
“I’ll be right back.” Abigale smiled at her husband as he melted back down into the bed.
James lay there for a moment as he processed everything that was happening. By all that was holy, that horse was spoiled and in desperate need of manners. He made note about discussing it with Abigale. Fergus was going to have to behave in order to stay in the stable.
Shite. He’d forgotten, before leaving for the hunting trip two days ago, he’d instructed the stable lad to prepare for Abigale's trip to her new home at Bothwell Castle. He’d planned to tell her as soon as he got back, but what he didn’t plan on, was being shot with a poisonous arrow and his bel ange saving his life. Now he wanted her to stay. But would she after everything that had happened between them?
James shot out of bed, panicked. “Abigale, wait!” Quickly, he fetched his tunic and adjusted his trews. He had to stop her before she reached Neven and Fergus. Stubbing his toe on his way out of the bedchamber, James stumbled down the corridor, cursing along the way. God, he hoped he would catch her in time.
Abigale entered the bailey and ran over to Neven just in time as Fergus reared up on his hind legs. “Are ye all right, lad?”
“Aye my lady, I am sorry to have disturbed ye.”
“’Tis all right,” she reassured the frightened lad. “Fergus is just scared. Everything will be fine.”
Abigale approached Fergus. “Shh.” She reached out and patted his nose, then his chest. “Easy, laddie, no one will hurt ye.” Abigale calmed Fergus instantly. “What happened, Neven? Why is Fergus out of his stall?"
Neven looked down at his worn shoes and gripped his tunic tightly. “I’m only doing what Laird Douglas instructed.”
“And just what has the laird instructed ye to do?”
The lad paused and swallowed hard.
“’Tis ok. Ye may speak freely.” Abigale reassured him.
“My lady, I’m to ready yer horse for the trip to Bothwell.”
“Bothwell?” Had she heard the lad right? Why would James want to send Fergus to Bothwell? It didn’t make any sense.
“Aye,” the lad answered.
“And why would he be going to Bothwell when his home is here with me?”
“My lady, I’m to ready yer horse and escort ye to Bothwell. We leave in the morn.”
Unbelievable, James was sending her away? To Bothwell? Not wanting to frighten Neven more than he already was, she bent down and took the lad’s trembling hands in hers. “I assure ye, I will be staying here. This is my home. Fergus should be fine now. Take him back to his stall and leave him be. I promise I’ll have a talk with him about his attitude.” She smiled.
Neven nodded and quickly began his task.
Abigale stood up with her hands on her hips and turned to find her husband barreling through the bailey toward her. He must have known he was too late, for he treaded softly as he approac
hed. “Bothwell Castle?” she asked.
“Abigale, let me explain.”
Abigale didn’t know whether or not she wanted to hear his excuses. Nay… It had dawned on her that no matter what he said, she no longer cared. Hurt stabbed at her heart. He was going to send her away; how could he do this to her?
She pushed past him and started toward the keep; with each step her anger grew.
James followed a step behind, trying to get her attention, but she kept moving. “Abigale, listen to me.”
Ignoring him, she reached the great hall doors. They entered like a windstorm.
“Damn it, would ye stop and listen to me!” James grabbed her arm and swung her around until she looked at him.
Blinding rage took over. If he thought she was going to listen, he was seriously mistaken. She ripped free and allowed raw emotions to wash over her. "Nay, James Douglas, heed my words and hear them well. I’ve been more than agreeable in accepting my fate being married to ye. I’ve lied to a priest. I practically threw myself at ye, hoping ye would desire me.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’ve given ye all that I have, but ye’re as stubborn as a mule.” She paused and took a deep breath. Gaining more courage, she squared her shoulders and continued. “I’m tired of yer stubbornness. If ye think ye’re going to send me away to Bothwell, ye had better reconsider. I will no’ go.”
“Abigale, just let me—”
She looked up at the towering beast. “If ye do no’ want to be around me than ye leave. I’m staying here.” With that, Abigale strode across the great hall and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
James stood dumbfounded. Every word spoken was true. Abigale had showed him more love than he deserved. Though she’d been wrong about one thing; he did desire her. From the moment he met her at the loch he knew he loved her. The problem was, she sent him spinning out of control, and he had been desperate to escape whatever bewitching spell she cast upon him.
