Her Dragon's Keeper

by Suzanne Roslyn

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ABOUT SUZANNE ROSLYN

  HER DRAGON’S TREASURE

  Startled, she looked over her shoulder.

  Blake stood, bared to the waist. His tattoos glowed against his sun-kissed skin. With his hair glistening wet, he appeared right out of the shower, no socks and just a pair of faded, ripped, jeans.

  Sensing the direction his thoughts took, Emily kept her back to him. “You never seemed the type that would cuff a girl to your bed.”

  “You’ve been a naughty girl, Emily Reese.”

  HER DRAGON’S KEEPER

  Her Dragon’s Keeper

  Dragons of Giresun

  Book I

  Suzanne Roslyn

  Her Dragon’s Keeper Copyright © 2018 by Suzanne Roslyn. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Suzanne Roslyn

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Suzanne Roslyn

  Visit my website at www.SuzanneRoslyn.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Mar 2018

  Ember Secrets

  Chapter One

  Stay right there…

  Slowly, Emily stepped back from the glass pedestal. She waited, waited for an alarm to set off, but to her quick relief none came. Inside the master of Giresun’s Manor’s bedchamber, she felt for the dragon’s egg nestled beneath her dress. Her eyes never leaving the knock off she’d switched in its place.

  Almost baby.

  Emily took another step back, paying close attention to the bookshelf on the other side of the pedestal. A few years back, she’d encountered one as a trap, sliding aside to reveal an arsenal waiting to escort her to her own wake.

  It came as no surprise to find the egg out in the open. Dragons were amongst the vainest supernatural beings she’d ever encountered. Even in their human forms, they were full of themselves.

  Which is why this assignment had been so hard for her to refuse.

  In a four-hundred-year manor, such as this, she wished she had more time to explore. Soon, the ferry would come for the guests of tonight’s diner party, and she didn’t plan on missing her ride.

  If she knew her aunt, she didn’t have much time. This whole charade of her fake pregnancy and Margaret’s revolving art gallery would soon grow old.

  Outside, a cluster of clouds drifted across the moon, deepening the shadows below. Any other time, she’d escape through the window. Tonight, she had to go back out the way she came in.

  As soon as she was about to make her exit, she heard the door open and whirled around.

  Blake? Emily didn’t move for a long moment. She could barely breathe with forty pounds of shelled dragon strapped against her lungs.

  She searched his face, wondering if he recognized her after all this time. A part of her wishing he did, another swearing he wouldn’t. Their time together had been brief. Too brief.

  Nothing about his dark wheat-colored hair or his clenched jaw struck her as recognition.

  Blake stood with his arms crossed, barricading the door. “What are you doing in here?”

  His gaze landed on the pendant peeking between the valleys of her breast. Self-conscious, she reached up and covered it with her hand. “There are so many rooms here. I couldn’t tell which door led to the powder room.”

  His eyes narrowed. “No. What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I’m a guest. I was invited.” She could hear her cousin, Jacques, laughing at her for getting caught with her skirt up.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Emily. If you wanted back in my bed, all you had to do was ask.”

  “Your bed?” She needed to get out of here before Blake discovered there was more of her beneath her skirt then what she appeared.

  “This is my room.”

  “You’re Lord Giresun?” Why hadn’t she known that? Like his dragon-side, he’d kept a lot of things to himself. Not that she, too, had been completely honest with him. But she’d left it in the past, like she’d left him.

  And that smile was back on his lips. Slow. Hot. It did crazy things to her stomach. She needed to get away from him.

  He took a step in her direction, and she ran her hand down over her skirt to ensure the egg remained nestled in the right spot against her to continue her pregnant charade.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed me.”

  A dragon. If Blake had gotten back from one of his band’s head banging performances, it would explain why he wasn’t thinking straight. A definite advantage for her.

  She walked toward him and the door, his eyes landed on the faux egg on the pedestal behind her. His smile turned upside down. Those eyes, brown, then a flash of gold, narrowed back in on her.

  Like fireworks, hot embers exploded in her chest and settled in her womb. She shifted from one foot to the other. “It was one night.”

  “Is that why you bailed?”

  She shook her head. She could never explain to him in a way he would understand. A mortal, like her, probably, but not him. She came from a long line of dragon keepers. As one of the chosen Keepers, she wasn’t exactly welcomed by dragons, and making the effort wasn’t worth it considering the dragons blamed the Keepers and their ancestors for their curse.

  Although, fitting into their human world with the ability to shift and become human or become dragon saved their sorry hides all these centuries. They didn’t see it that way.

  Emily never once regretted the price of paying her family’s debt. She would have agreed to anything to spare her mother the kind of death the draconian society had planned for her—even the price of leaving Blake and any ambitions of a singing career behind.

  “I should be going. My aunt will wonder what has become of me.” She moved to go past him, reaching for the door.

  “Emily.” His hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

  “Let me go.”

  “Since when have you become a thief?”

  She came face to face with his harden expression nor could she deny the look of sheer longing she found in his eyes. She almost backed up. “I’m not the one who took something that didn’t belong to me.”

  His pupils turned to narrow slits and his iris turned golden. “I can’t let you go.”

  Oh hell, that voice and his accent. She felt it all the way to her toes and every place in between that hadn’t warmed for far longer than she would admit. Not when she had a job to do.

  “Is that why you offered to host my aunt’s revolving art gallery here?” Emily tried to jerk her arm from his grasp, but he tightened his hold around her wrist.

  “Margaret Moldvan is your aunt?” As stunned as he sounded,
she would have almost believed him.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, my absence has no doubt been noted.” She swayed on her feet, her eyes drifting shut as her entire body gone flush.

  “Not before you return what is mine.”

  She snapped them open a second later. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do.” He laid his other hand against the egg nestled against her abdomen beneath her lace dress.

  She didn’t dare take her eyes from his. She took her other hand as any protective mother would and knocked his hand away from her.

  “How dare you try to take possession of my….” She tried to pull away from him, but he yanked her closer.

  “I can smell you.” He leaned nuzzling her neck. His other hand pressed the small of her back. She pressed her hand against his shoulder, trying to protect the egg between them.

  His breath hot against her ear, he whispered, “If it is a hatchling you desire, I am happy to oblige you.”

  “I’ve already got one, but thanks,” she held her breath, watching his golden eyes intensified.

  “I can’t allow you to leave here.”

  “And I can’t allow you to get beneath my skirt.”

  His grip loosened on her wrist, as he tilted his head. His gaze fell to her lips. “Are you sure?”

  Heat exploded inside her belly, growing and spreading through her lower limbs, from the warmth of the egg pressing against her and not Blake’s lips a breath from hers. She willed herself to pull back from him, but his hand left the egg and cradled her neck. He brought his lips to hers in a searing kiss which jolted her down to her core. She opened to him, his tongue infiltrating between her lips in a dual to conquer.

  His hand released her wrist and she clung to him.

  He reached up under the folds of her dress and caressed the inside of her bare thigh. Slowly, he pushed her back against the wall. His mouth retreating from its assault and brushing feather light kisses down her neck. Her flesh flushed with heat. She entangled her hands into his hair, as his hand slid further around her thigh.

  She felt the clasp of the egg harness snap and she stiffened. He brought his face up; about to reclaim her lips in another kiss when on instinct she brought her knee up. He hissed, clutching his groin as she fled him.

  Chapter Two

  She took off down the corridor, her hands wrapped around the precious egg strapped to her body. Between her legs, one of the clips bounced against her inner thigh. How could she have been so stupid?

  Down the hall, she heard the door. Quickly, she made for the stairs. Several ladies and gentlemen stood conversing with their flutes of champagne. Emily slowed. She gripped the hand rail, taking each stair down with intentional care. A few of the men stepped out of her way while the women stared at her. A few smiled and nodded to her. She glanced above, and there he stood.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  His brow raised.

  She almost stumbled down the next stair and a set of hands reached out to steady her. “Easy there, darling.” She turned her attention to Jacques, his gaze on Blake standing at the top of the stairs.

  “You need to get me out of here now.”

  “I see you found your way to the powder room.” He assisted her past a woman going up the stairs, holding her long gown up from tripping.

  “I’ve been compromised.” She went to look behind her when Jacques put his hand on her face and stopped her. “I’ll say. Our host can’t take his eyes off you.”

  She allowed Jacques to slip her hand on his arm as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “What’s he doing?” Her heart thundered in her chest.

  “Speaking to two other gentlemen on your behalf, I’m sure.”

  “You knew he was here, didn’t you?”

  “I assure you, I did not.”

  “We need to get out of here.” She smiled as they passed a group of people mingling just outside the dining room.

  “There’s Margaret. I’ll meet you at the dock.”

  Emily’s heart pounded in her chest. She turned her head when Jacques said, “Don’t look at him. I’ll take care of him. You get Margaret.”

  “She’ll come on her own, she always does.” She didn’t have time to explain. Against her belly, the egg grew hot. Emily rubbed her egg and took a deep breath.

  “Are you, all right?”

  “Just get me out of here.” She took another breath in through her nose and out her mouth. The two men headed towards the stairs. Emily glazed from the corner of her eye; the master of the manor had disappeared.

  “He has all the exits blocked by now with security.” Jacques guided her toward the dining room.

  “Since when has that stopped you?” Emily hissed. Her skin burned against the warmth of the egg.

  “Give Margaret my apologies for our early departure. I’ll meet you by the ferry dock.” Jacques left her and slipped through the crowd of people admiring the display of art in the foyer.

  Emily waddled to the dining room. She found Margaret standing with three gentlemen discussing politics and art. Her silver haired aunt laid her hand on Emily’s arm. “Oh Reese, there you are my dear. I was just telling Mr. Haralamb of our visit to Salisbury last summer. Remember those beautiful stones?”

  Emily spotted Blake coming her way. “Very strange and mysterious, actually.” Emily winced at the stinging sensation growing up her chest.

  “My dear, are you, all right?” Mr. Haralamb asked.

  A bead of sweat broke out on her forehead, not from Blake, coming to stand beside Mr. Haralamb, but from the sweltering heat spreading through her body.

  “I’m not. Thank you for asking.” Emily turned to Margret. “I’m sorry Aunt Margaret, but I am really not feeling well this evening. I wanted to let you know Jacques and I are stepping out for a bit of air.”

  “Thank you dear.” Margaret patted Emily’s arm whilst looking Emily in the eye. Emily turned her head slightly to acknowledge Blake’s presence in their little group. Margaret looked at him from the corner of her eye and sighed. “Our Reese here is carrying a very fragile delivery.”

  “Indeed,” Blake said.

  Emily clutched the egg around her. He pressed between Mr. Haralamb and Margaret taking her by the arms. The gentleman beside her stepped aside and made room for him.

  “You are feeling unwell, love?” he asked.

  Emily felt the blood drain from her face. Her arms grew slick with sweat. She glanced over at Margaret, whose eyes had enlarged to the size of her flute stand.

  “You look pale. Perhaps instead you’d prefer to go lie down.” He wrapped his arm around her. Emily saw black spots floating in front of her vision. She shook her head trying to clear them away.

  “You are acquainted with each other?” Mr. Haralamb asked.

  “Oh, where are my manners?” Margaret said. “Mr. Haralamb this is Blake Beowulf, our host tonight and master of Giresun Manor.”

  “Ah yes, Mr. Beowulf, pleasure,” Mr. Haralamb said.

  Emily leaned into him. Her head felt like it was spinning while her hair line absorbed the dampness from her perspiring skin. “I really must go now. I-I’m so sorry.”

  “Yes… Yes. How thoughtless of me!” Margaret took hold of Emily. “We must get you out of here. Jacques will wonder what is keeping you.”

  “Please…” before Emily could say more her legs trembled and her knees buckled.

  Chapter Three

  Blake caught Emily before she collapsed. He slipped an arm behind her knees and lifted her. Her aunt gasped.

  She trembled in his arms, her head rolling back as she fainted.

  “Should we call for an ambulance?” Margaret took hold of Emily’s hand. “Reese?”

  He scanned the faces in the dining hall. He nodded and two of his men came towards him. “Those are a luxury here on the island, but no fear. My staff is trained to see to her care. I could not live with myself if anything were to happen to my fiu.”

  “I did
not realize your niece was the lady of the manor,” Mr. Haralamb said to Margaret.

  Blake looked down at Emily, he held her closer in his arms, an overwhelming sense of protection swept through him, and for more than the egg she carried. To distract from Mr. Haralamb’s remark, Blake said, “It is an honor to have Mrs. Moldvan and her art displayed here tonight.”

  “Yes. Very much so,” Mr. Haralamb said.

  “Thank you,” Margaret muttered. She held onto Emily’s hand and when Blake turned to take her out of the dining hall she refused to let go.

  Many of the guests watched them; the silence in the room deafening. “We have exhausted her, my poor dear. Please continue.”

  His gaze bore first to Margaret’s hand clutching her niece’s hand then to her ashen face. “I suggest you let go,” he said quietly.

  Margaret bit her lip.

  She gave Emily’s hand a squeeze. “If you…”

  “She’s in the best care, assured. You can see her later, after she’s rested.” Blake spotted Garth and Sigurd following him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He stalked out of the dining hall. His arms strained beneath his suit jacket as he carried her up the stairs. He felt Margaret’s cold glare freezing into his back with each step.

  At the top of the stairs, Sigurd turned and held out his arms.

  “No, I’ve got her. Get Naomi and meet me in my chambers.”

  Sigurd rushed ahead turning the knob at the end of the corridor as he went. Blake kicked the door open and strolled inside his room. He laid Emily on his four-poster bed. Her flesh burned. She moaned as he pushed up her dress.

  His hands drifted across the large opaque egg nestled between her heart and her womb. “Always rushing ahead. Never thinking.”

  Her long brown hair spilled across the pillow. She opened her eyes, glazed with her misery. He reached down and unclasped the second clip between her legs, heard her sharp intake of breath, and he leaned in kissing the spot where he’d pinched her tender skin beneath the clip.