by Lowe, Anna
Finally, she stood, studying the tapestries. Liam was a lion shifter, so what accounted for all those dragons in the scenes? In one, a dragon flew over a castle, breathing fire. Did that relate to the shifters who’d owned the castle before Liam’s family? In another scene, two dragons flew over a flowery landscape, and they didn’t even look too menacing. On the contrary, that scene radiated hope, happiness, and love, contradicting everything her father had ever said about cruel dragons. Of course, there were unicorns, too, and bunnies, and even monkeys. Who knew what those elements represented to the person who had woven the tapestries centuries ago?
A door creaked open, and Gemma whirled, then smiled.
“Hey,” she called softly.
“Hey,” Liam whispered.
And there they remained for a long minute, doing nothing more than exchanging dopey grins.
Finally, Gemma gave herself a shake and spoke. “I know it’s not that late, but I’m ready for bed.”
“Me too. I’ll show you to your room.”
Her room implied a separate his room, and she would have much preferred to curl up next to him. Maybe even do more than curl up with him. On the other hand, they were in his family’s home, and Liam might need time to process all his stirred-up memories.
But, drat. He’d lit a fire inside her from day one, and her desire had grown steadily since then.
“So, the bedrooms are up here…”
Liam led her up a spiral staircase, then down a wide hallway on the third floor. Portraits lined the walls, and every archway housed a suit of armor. Lots of armor, as Liam had said, all shining to high heaven as if ready to kit out the Knights of the Round Table.
“I can’t decide whether this would be a great place to grow up or a spooky one,” she murmured.
Liam laughed. “Mostly great, as far as I remember. I used to sit on my dad’s shoulders and ride him around like a knight.” His smile stretched from ear to ear then slowly subsided. “At least, I think I did.”
Gemma had always thought it was a curse to have divorced parents and an eccentric father. But to have lost one’s parents so young, and to have heard so little about them from relatives… That was much worse.
She slowed, studying the next suits of armor. Some had pikes, while others held lances, and still others…
A sword glinted, catching her eye, and she touched it. “Can I try this one?”
Liam was so deep in thought, he didn’t turn. He just called over his shoulder, “Of course.”
The sword zinged as she pulled it from the scabbard, and the blade flashed. Really flashed, brighter than any of the bulbs in the hallway. A surge of energy went through her as her bracelets reflected the light back.
She sliced the air experimentally. Wow. That blade was perfectly balanced. She cut to the left, then shuffle-stepped forward and thrust toward a different suit of armor.
Liam jumped back, his eyes wide. “You know your swordplay.”
“Not playing,” she murmured in an echo of her father’s words.
Using tiny wrist movements, she circled the tip of the sword. It felt like an extension of her arm.
“Careful,” Liam said in a strangely guarded voice. “That blade is spelled against shifters.”
“Oh yes?” She turned the blade this way and that. “I’d love to put it to use against a dragon.”
Liam winced and put up his hands. “Yes, well…”
She slumped a little. He was right. Even with a sword that felt as magical as Excalibur, how could she possibly fend off a dragon? She slid it back into place and trudged down the hall.
Liam showed her into a spacious corner room with a huge four-poster bed, a cushioned window seat, and gorgeous stained-glass panels. When he started a fire in the huge hearth, the shadows made the figures on the tapestries dance.
Gemma made a face. Great. More dragons. Between her exhaustion, the gloomy weather, and the reminder of her own helplessness, she found herself dreading a night alone.
Liam must have noticed, because he glanced around the echoing room glumly. “Not exactly cozy, huh?”
She forced a smile. “It’s great. I mean, how often do I get to stay in a castle?”
Still, he didn’t look satisfied. He looked around, then stuck up a finger and announced, “I’ll be right back.”
“But—”
“Just a tick,” he called, trotting out the door.
Gemma rubbed her arms. Castles were great for sight-seeing, but not so much for spending the night, especially in a vast, spooky chamber. Outside, the wind howled, making shutters bang and groan.
Within minutes, Liam hurried back in, half hidden behind a mountain of pillows and blankets that threatened to spill out of his arms. Gemma scurried out of the way as he made for the bed.
“All right, then. Commence Operation Make Castle Cozy,” he announced.
She laughed. “Operation what?”
He started tossing pillows into place. “Ha. You think it can’t be done? That’s what they told Churchill during the Blitz. Just watch.”
With one hand, he yanked off the gold-tasseled bedcover and flung it aside. Then he pulled a thick, woolen blanket from the pile he’d brought and threw it open with a snap.
“First, you get your happy colors,” he said, spreading it over the bed.
She laughed. The blanket was white with sky-blue stripes that flowed like waves as it fluttered into place. The pillows were bright yellow and green, like the flowers and grass at the shore of a lake they’d passed.
“Now, if Gareth weren’t so slow…” Liam muttered.
“Say again, sir?” Gareth appeared at the doorway with two steaming mugs.
“Finally,” Liam declared. “What took you so long?”
If his aunt had uttered those words, they would have sounded hopelessly snobbish. But Liam made them more of a tease.
Gareth paced in, unperturbed. “I dare say, the cocoa powder hasn’t been called for in years. Not since you were a wee lad.”
Gemma hid a grin. Gareth had a way of following orders while putting Liam in his place.
Liam grinned, and Gemma swore Gareth had a twinkle in his eye. They liked testing the boundaries of the boss/servant relationship, didn’t they?
“Well, we need it now.” Liam motioned to the four-poster bed. “Leave the cocoa there, please, and help me push this thing.”
Gareth’s face pinched. “That is not a thing. It is a seventeenth-century heirloom from the house of—”
“Yes, yes. A very old bed. Come on, put your back into it.”
“Really, it’s fine where it is,” Gemma protested.
But Liam was a man on a mission. “It is not fine. It’s not cozy.”
Gareth frowned. “Cozy?”
“Cozy,” Liam declared. “Ready?”
Gemma put her shoulder to one corner, while Gareth and Liam pushed at the others, and slowly, the monolith scraped along.
“It will scratch the floor,” Gareth protested.
“Which is made of stone,” Liam pointed out.
“Like the soul of an Englishman,” Gareth muttered.
Liam laughed. “I’m half Welsh. Come on already. We’re nearly there.”
Once they’d maneuvered the heavy bed into a corner, Liam trotted back, dragged over the rug, and surveyed his handiwork.
“Better. We need a table, though. A place to put a book and a drink. Come along, Gareth. Chop chop. Make yourself useful.”
“Useful. Indeed,” Gareth grumbled, heading for the door.
“Really, it’s fine,” Gemma tried.
But Liam didn’t pay attention. Instead, he called after Gareth. “And not one of those oak monstrosities that weigh ten stone. Something cozy.”
“Certainly, sir. Something we have an abundance of on the premises.”
Liam ignored him, turning back to the bed. “So, if we pile these up…” He tossed a few more pillows around. “And close these…” He drew the curtains on three sides of the four-p
oster bed, then hopped in and patted the space beside him. “What do you think?”
Gemma crawled in, sitting with her back to the wall and her shoulder against Liam’s. Their feet stuck out before them, and they sat there, watching the fire as if it were a television.
“Cozy? Not cozy?” Liam asked.
Gemma smiled and held both thumbs up. “It’s great. Thank you.”
The curtains closed off most of the huge, echoing room, reducing the view to the best parts: the bright, comfy blankets, the crackling fire, and the window seat with its stained glass, barely lit by moonlight.
“Maybe not as nice as your bunk on Valhalla, but it’s a start. Oh — except for one thing.” Liam scurried out and returned with the drinks.
Gareth had used big, earthenware mugs for the hot chocolate, and when Liam transferred one to her hands, his fingers played over hers. For a few breathtaking moments, they remained close, hands touching, eyes locked. Her breath hitched, and she swore Liam’s did too.
Stay, she wanted to say. Stay and make me feel as good as you did last night.
But a heavy thump sounded at the door, and they broke apart.
“A table for the young lady,” Gareth announced.
The table was a light, pretty thing, painted with colorful flowers and vines. Something narrow enough to fit through the door without trouble, though Gareth bumped and banged as he went, announcing his presence. Gemma blushed. Had she and Liam been that close?
Her blush deepened, because yes — Liam had kneeled between her legs to hand her the drink. Quite innocently, she was sure, but what had it looked like from behind?
It would look good, the dirty part of her mind decided. It would feel good too.
And, zoom! Her mind took off with wild fantasies of Liam crouched in exactly that position, minus the hot drink — and his clothes.
Of course, Liam didn’t blush. Was the man even capable of feeling self-conscious? She doubted it. He simply extracted himself and waved Gareth over, helping him position the pretty table at the bedside.
“Perfect,” Liam announced.
“If you’re quite finished making the room cozy, sir…”
Gareth held the bedroom door in a hint. Obviously, he was an old-fashioned, no boys and girls in the same room type.
Liam waved cheerily. “Thank you, Gareth. That will be all. Good night.”
Gareth paused, looking at Gemma in a way that begged her to show more decorum than Liam did. He waited and waited, then muttered something in Welsh — a string a syllables far too long and loaded to mean Good night. But Liam turned back to Gemma, and a moment later, Gareth closed the door, leaving them alone.
A few minutes earlier, they’d been all but cuddled up on the bed, but suddenly, Gemma didn’t know what to do. It was one of those awkward moments when she was caught between being a nice girl and the burning desire to tear off her clothes and declare, Let’s get down to business, baby.
Even Liam seemed stuck. His eyes glowed honey-gold with desire, but his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He wanted her — she was sure of it. So, what made him hold back?
“What else can I get you?” he whispered after an excruciating pause.
You, she burned to say. Just you, curled up next to me.
Instead, she said, “I’m fine, thanks,” and regretted it immediately. Which left her little choice but to sip her drink. Liam sat beside her, drinking just as quietly. Gemma did her best to stretch out the moment, sipping slowly. But at some point, her mug was empty, and his too.
“I guess I’m all set,” she mumbled lamely, setting her mug on the table.
The clock on the mantelpiece ticked, hinting at the late hour. But when she was sure Liam would utter a polite, Well, I guess I’d better go, she blurted out something — anything — to extend his stay.
“How do lions sleep?”
His laugh echoed through the room. “That’s what I like about you. You’re very…unexpected.”
I like a lot about you, she wanted to say.
“Sorry. Rude question?”
“Not in the least. Most nights, I sleep in a bed, just like this.” He motioned over his human body. “But in lion form, I find myself a nice spot — a cozy spot, you might say. Then I lie down and sleep.”
“Like a cat?”
He shook his head. “Cats curl up. Lions are above that. Kings of the jungle and all that. You know.” He raised his chin and looked down his nose in a regal way.
“Actually, I don’t know. I’m new to all this.”
“Well, then. Lion Sleep Patterns, Lesson One. Pay attention, please.” He clapped like a schoolteacher. “First, you sit back.” He went down on all fours on the rug and sat on his haunches. “Like this. Sort of like…like…” He moved around but couldn’t settle into a comfortable position. “It doesn’t work in this body. But basically, you get into the position of a sphinx.”
She burst out laughing. “A sphinx?”
He grinned, then grew serious. “I could show you if you want.”
Her lips trembled, and her whisper barely made it past her lips. “I’d like that.”
He stood and glanced around, then said, “Don’t be alarmed.” It was a joke, but the little hitch in his voice said he was nervous too. “I have to strip first.”
Gemma decided not to say, Fine with me.
She did lean back slightly, because a girl shouldn’t come across like a total voyeur. That put Liam partway behind the curtain, mostly out of view. Good enough?
Liam slipped off his shoes and shirt as the fire popped and crackled over burning logs. Something popped and crackled in Gemma’s gut too. All that muscle, rippling and sliding like tectonic plates.
Liam turned and slid down his pants, giving Gemma a view of his nice, tight buns. Then he sank to his hands and knees, and—
Gemma’s jaw dropped as his body began to transform. His shoulder blades bulged, and hair sprouted along his back.
She wanted to turn away, but she was too fascinated. It was all so smooth, so seamless. One minute, he was Liam. The next, everything blurred as his fur covered the details. Then he was a lion, giving his mane a firm shake. Slowly, he turned, faced her, and—
Their eyes locked, and her breath caught. Those beautiful, honey-gold eyes were all Liam. The way he held his head was similar, too. His body was completely different, yet she could see echoes of the man in his bearing. Proud, but not arrogant. Powerful, but not pushy. And those eyes…
With a twitch of his whiskers, Liam lowered himself to the floor — butt down, front legs stretched forward, his head held high. Just like a sphinx, ready to watch several centuries unfold.
“Wow,” she managed to finally find her tongue. “That’s amazing.”
Liam puffed out his chest.
“Can you roar for me?”
He rolled his eyes, making her laugh. “Okay, maybe no roaring.” She thought for a minute. “You said sphinx pose was the first part of going to sleep. What comes next?”
Slowly, he lowered himself to his side. For a minute, he lay there, ribs rising and falling with every deep breath. Then he popped his head up, and in one graceful movement, rolled to his feet.
The sight of all that feline muscle, hair, and teeth surging closer nearly made Gemma scuttle away. But her fear was tinged with wonder — and trust. That was Liam, and he would never, ever betray her. Deep in her heart, she knew that.
So, she didn’t budge. In fact, she slid to the edge of the mattress and reached out. Liam inched closer, sliding his head under her hand. Her fingers twitched in an awkward attempt to scratch his ears.
Liam chuffed and closed his eyes.
God, that’s good, she could practically hear him sigh.
When he settled back on his haunches, her heart swelled with hope.
“Are you really going to stay here?”
Those deep, golden eyes searched hers, saying something like, If you want me to.
She gulped. “Seriously? Would it be
comfortable?”
He gave her a look that said, I served a decade in the Foreign Legion, lady. Who cares about comfort as long as you’re safe?
She nodded slowly. “Wow. My own lion guard.”
He bobbed his head and marched back and forth in front of her door, baring his teeth. Really big, really scary teeth, though he would only use them on the bad guys.
“Aha. Are you going to keep that up all night?”
He shook his head, then went back to sphinx position on the rug at her feet.
Her heart thumped a little harder. God, he was sweet. And not at all crazy. Just incredibly loyal. Lovable.
Mine, that voice growled in her mind.
She cleared her throat, stood, and tiptoed around him carefully. “I just need a minute…”
In the end, it took her five to get ready for bed. Liam’s ears twitched, tuned in to her every move. When she finally slid under the sheets and blew out the candle at the bedside, the room went silent but for the quiet crackle of the fire.
Slowly, she slid one hand from under the sheets. And as sure as if she’d called out for him, Liam nestled his head against her palm.
She closed her eyes, marveling at the silky thickness of his mane. His mane, for goodness’ sake!
Part of her burned for Liam to shift back to human form and join her in bed. To touch, kiss, and make love to her all over again. But they were both worn out, and she needed to step back before she got in over her head.
She snorted to herself. There she was, tucked into bed with a lion at her side. Hell, she already was in deep.
She curled her fingers, caressing his thick mane. “Nice.”
His tail tapped gently against the rug. Very nice.
Touching him settled her jumpy nerves, and soon, exhaustion tugged at her eyelids, beckoning her to sleep.
“Liam?” she murmured into the soft glow of the firelit room.
The lion’s left ear flicked back, listening.
“Thank you. For everything.”
He chuffed quietly — twice. Once to say You’re welcome, or so she imagined, and once to say, Good night.
