by Anne Renwick
By the time she’d reached the window, Kinross’s steam carriage was rattling down the road. It was the last she’d seen of her husband.
Until he returned for her dragon.
At her feet, Zia let out a soft whimper.
She strode across the hall. That horrid man’s past actions continued to plague her. The best she could say about Kinross was that he hadn’t mentioned the scattering of dragon scales at the base of her neck to a single soul. A dragon was a fascinating creature, one any number of men would pay dearly to possess. Should her own secret be discovered, she herself might end up under the microscope. Had her dragon not dispatched her husband, would he have sold his wife as well?
Zia dashed across the great hall to Luke’s side.
“A year of mourning is traditional,” Aileen muttered as she passed Natalia on her way back to the kitchen.
“Yet I must take actions now,” Natalia snapped, dropping the silver coin from Zia’s treasure hoard upon the empty tray. “Without coin, food and coal cannot be purchased. Eventually, we will run out of luxuries to barter. I intend to depart for Edinburgh soon.” Perhaps Luke could argue her case before the director of the Department of Cryptozoology. She would ask. What other choice was left to her? “If you and your grandfather do not wish to accompany me, perhaps your fiancé ought to have the banns called?”
“Perhaps.” Aileen agreed, but she bit her lip. Had the romance gone sour? “I’ll speak with him.” Her leather soles struck the flagstone with more force than necessary as she exited.
Natalia had not yet met this mysterious fiancé. Nor had Aileen offered to introduce them. She suspected she would not be invited to attend the wedding.
She sat beside Luke at the high table, and he pushed a cup of steaming tea in her direction, all while rubbing Zia’s head. The dragon sat, leaning against a friend she must have thought long lost. “Thank you.” Cradling the warm teacup in her hands and watching him drain his bowl of the much-detested cabbage soup, she cut to the quick. “You’re ill.”
“A filterable virus.” A shadow crept across his face. “Forcibly acquired while in captivity at a secret Russian biotechnology laboratory—Ural Zavód—in the Ural Mountains. They were in need of infected human subjects upon which they might trial an experimental medication. It failed. All subsequent formulations also failed to effect a cure. Long-term ramifications persist.” He tugged a paper packet from his pocket and poured a brown, powdered substance—an herb—into his teacup. “Milk thistle,” he offered by way of explanation. “An attempt to alleviate some of the damage done to my liver.” An earthy scent wafted up as he poured his tea over the ground seeds.
“Ural Zavód,” she repeated as her mind spun back the clock. Papa had worked there and, when her aptitude for chemistry became apparent, she too had been recruited. She’d even thought to marry a colleague, though she counted herself lucky to have escaped the callous, malevolent man’s grasp. Was it Dimitri who had experimented upon Luke, who had tortured him in the name of science? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. But it certainly explained why he’d been unable to contact her. A weight in her chest lifted, even as her stomach twisted at the thought of what Luke must have endured. “I warned you against the attempt. Collecting dragon eggs was a dangerous endeavor, even before scientists—accompanied by armed guards—began to actively hunt them.”
“We’ve had this argument.” He met her gaze with a set jaw, unapologetic. “Zia—to my knowledge—is the sole female dragon on the British Isles. Her kind is rare, even in the Urals. Given how prized they are, well, without a male, the species might well face extinction.”
Luke shared her father’s dream, to establish a refuge in the hills of Scotland where the dragons might live free. He’d fought for the right to launch an expedition into the Ural Mountains of Russia for an entire year. But the Department of Cryptozoology cited increasing tensions with Russia. Expedition denied.
Still, he’d gone. Insane, driven man.
“Yet you return empty-handed.” Both men had risked so much for so little. One had lost his life; one had lost his health. At least Luke wasn’t here to take Zia from her. She pressed a palm to the surface of the worn, wooden trestle table as a new fear raised its head. “Were you followed?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Wonderful. Yet another worry took its place in the queue, clamoring for attention. As if the trouble Lord Kinross had drawn down upon her wasn’t enough. If this kept up, she would soon run out of arrows. Or be forced to start aiming for men’s throats. An unsettling possibility. She cursed under her breath.
The Department of Cryptozoology’s failure to provide a stipend this past year was the root cause of her current predicament. Not, it appeared, that Luke was to blame. He’d been abroad, imprisoned, suffering horrific torment. They would need to speak of that. Soon. Not just yet, but where to start?
“But it appears trouble preceded me.” Brow furrowed, Luke placed his hand over hers. “The cage in the courtyard, has it anything to do with the laird’s death? With the injured man I met claiming rights to seize a dragon?”
“Everything.” Her mind flashed back to her husband’s last words.
“We’ve a meeting,” he’d informed her. “With a man who will solve our financial woes and remove the creature to his care.”
“What!” she’d cried. “How dare you? Zia is mine!” Inasmuch as one could own a Russian Mountain Dragon.
“No,” he’d replied with entirely too much calm. “We married before the most recent Married Women’s Property Act was passed. All you possess—livestock included—belongs to me.”
Livestock!
All her moveable property had become her husband’s upon the consummation of their marriage. Never had she been so grateful she’d kept her father’s research notes a secret. Yet, with Kinross’s death, everything that was his—including this castle—was now hers.
Save the one thing she held most dear.
Luke squeezed her hand, dragging her back to the present. “Natalia?”
She blinked. Focused on his worried expression. “Zia ate him.”
His jaw dropped.
“Most of him.” Natalia swallowed. It had been a horrible, horrible moment. Not at all an end she would have wished upon anyone. Yet once Kinross had enraged the dragon, instinct had overcome training, and the beast inside Zia ripped free… and into the man who would see her caged, quartered, and sold in pieces for profit.
She pulled her hand away, dropping it to stroke the scales upon Zia’s head. The dragon sat between their chairs, eyes closed, her small wings folded tightly against her back, thrilled that her two most favorite people were once again in the same room. Natalia elaborated. “She’s but a small dragon, unable to eat a full-grown man in one meal. Enough remained that the village doctor was able to conclusively identify him.”
“Zia ate him,” he repeated, still gaping.
“I’m to blame for the current hysteria surrounding the rumor of a man-eating pteryform.” Natalia glanced down. “A mistake. Some of the locals are terrified. Others are mounting expeditions to bring down the creature. I’m not proud of the misdirection, but pointing out that there’s been a dragon in their midst for three years seemed unwise.”
Luke barked a laugh. “I see.” He stabbed his fingers into his hair and dragged his hand to the back of his neck. “I’m struggling with the concept of Zia attacking someone. She’s always been a gentle dragon. She never showed any aversion for Kinross before.” He closed his eyes briefly. “The cage. He tried to force her inside?”
She nodded. “Exactly. He sold her, as livestock, for an impressive sum to a man named Rathail. But Zia is no farm animal; she is a rare and protected species. I instructed my husband’s solicitor to return the funds, but he claims the money was used to address the deep debt Kinross had accrued, and Rathail continues to insist the dragon is his rightful property.”
/> Chapter Three
“Rathail,” Luke repeated.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
After all the pains he’d taken to elude the Russians as he exited their frigid wasteland of a country, Rathail’s involvement had already exposed Zia to those unscrupulous men who specialized in selling the parts and pieces of rare and emerging animals. Kraken claws. Pteryform wings. Dragon’s blood.
Not that the man or his clients would stop at blood. A vial of poison milked from Zia’s jaw would sell for thousands. She also possessed wings, claws, teeth and scales. And those were merely surface features. It pained him to consider what a dragon’s liver might be worth on the black market.
“You know him?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Of him.” Had Luke or any of his colleagues met him, the man would be behind bars. But the name “Rathail” was an alias. “An unscrupulous trader of exotic animals, he has a price on his head.”
“How much?” A mercenary light ignited in her eyes.
“Absolutely not.” He shook his head vehemently. A mistake. He hadn’t had a decent night’s rest in… years. Their earlier skirmish had awakened the dull headache that had plagued him for months. “Are the castle’s finances so awful?”
“Worse.” She stood, crossing her arms and frowning. “Hence my husband’s attempts to sell Zia. I own a castle and a townhome in Edinburgh and have no funds with which to maintain them. I’ve sold what I can, exchanging candlesticks and crystal for coal and food. But the villagers haven’t much coin, and what use do they have for dark and dingy portraits of Kinross ancestors?” She waved her hand at the great hall.
His eyes caught upon one in particular. An arrow pierced its canvas, protruding from the chest of a dignified and bewigged gentleman. But she was correct. Two long, wooden tables and their chairs stretched the length of the room, their surfaces bare. The mantle too lacked adornment. Gone were any and all decorative ornaments.
He smiled at the mental image of Natalia arriving in the small, Scottish village with a sword strapped to her hip and her arms full of antiques, bartering them away for tea and biscuits.
“It’s not funny,” she huffed. “Kinross was never generous with funds. But now I’ve not a farthing left to pay Aileen or McKay. Zia is subsisting on the occasional sheep and whatever fish she manages to catch in the river.” She began to pace. “I contacted the Department of Cryptozoology regarding my situation and was sent nothing but a note conveying ‘their deepest condolences’. Without results, they’ve no interest in funding me or my research. I intend to take up residence in the Edinburgh townhome. From there I’ll either need to sell the castle or remarry.”
He frowned at the thought of Natalia remarrying. He selfishly wanted her for himself, but he had precious little to offer her beyond helping to extract her from this current situation. “Rathail will not cease his attempts to capture Zia, not even if you kill this current hunter. Appealing to the legal department to contest Rathail’s claims will do no good. The man is a ghost. Besides, if my department has ceased to provide funds…” During his absence someone had badly mishandled her case.
“Exactly.” She threw her hands in the air. “Traveling to the city, however, is proving an impossibility. The steam wagon is broken, Zia is deeply averse to being caged and, even were we to manage all that, setting out upon the road makes us an easy target for Rathail’s hunter. To say nothing of managing a dragon in a city.”
“All true. Regardless, neither of you are safe here. Zia will not fare well in a smaller home. She needs more space, not less.” At the sound of her name, the dragon shifted her weight, nudging his leg in a clear ploy for attention. He swallowed the rest of his tea—its bitter, weedy taste a necessary evil to assist his damaged liver’s functions—then obliged Zia. “Best to evacuate the premises quickly while the hunter is recovering.”
“And where, pray tell, would you have us go? Into the highland moors?” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s exactly what you have planned. What are you not telling me?”
It was time. He hoped she wouldn’t skewer him. “Upon docking in Edinburgh, I didn’t report in to my department. Nor did I come directly here. My brother met me before I even stepped from the ship.”
“He’s still the gamekeeper for Castle Edinample?”
“He is. A qualified—if unpracticed—assistant. My two years in the Ural Mountains of Russia were not wasted. I did not come home emptyhanded.” A grin stretched his face. “I passed him a very important bundle. A male dragonet. My brother waits for us in the Trossachs.”
“How?” Natalia gasped, her eyes wide and dancing.
Luke sat a bit taller in his chair as his chest swelled with pride. He had, after all, accomplished the near impossible. “The facility was compromised. Something about the capture and interrogation of a Russian agent in Germany. Equipment and research subjects—prisoners—were being transported to a new location. Mistakes were made, doors were left unlocked. In the chaos, a few other men and I took advantage to break free.” No need to tell her about the man he’d killed for the clothes on his back, the keys at his hip. “There was a new dragonet in a cage—a month or two old—I took him with me.” Along with a few other items he’d pawned in Riga. “I managed to gather enough rubles to buy a steamer ticket and send a single skeet pigeon.”
“Not to me,” she huffed.
“No. Absolutely not. The dragon’s trail needed to go cold, in case…” His smile faltered. “In case my path had been traced. The timing of the dragon’s escape linked to mine. Or my connection to you somehow discovered.” He looked away. “During the acute stage of hepatitis, during their horrible ‘treatments’, I was often delirious with fever. I can’t be certain what—if anything—I revealed.”
She took his hand, her eyes conciliatory. “You made the right choice, passing the dragonet to him. Not that I’m happy you ignored my warnings. Or didn’t tell me about your expedition before you left.”
“I thought I’d be gone a few months at most,” he confessed. Zia nudged his hand with her snout, insisting he resume his attentions.
“What did you name him, the dragonet?”
“Sasha, after your father.”
“He’d have liked that.” She blinked back the tears that welled in her blue eyes. “A companion for Zia at last, even if he is merely a dragonet.”
Luke stood, gathered Natalia against his chest and kissed the top of her head. When she’d run from Russia, two dragonets had been under her care. Yuri, a young male dragonet, hadn’t survived the journey.
Though he offered sympathy, it was impossible to ignore the sweet scent of her soap or the soft warmth of her curves. When she melted against him and her arms wrapped about his waist, his mind strayed to their earlier, interrupted kiss. He let his hand drift up her spine to cup the base of her skull. A widow, she was no longer forbidden. His honor and her virtue would not suffer if—
At his feet, Zia nudged his leg again, harder. Enough to upset his balance. There would be no ignoring her. “What is it, girl?”
The dragon stared at him for a moment with unblinking golden eyes, then turned and left the room. Flapping her wings, she half-flew, half-hopped though the door leading into the adjacent room. Once styled the Earl’s Presence Chamber—a title long-since extinct—the room now served as Natalia’s laboratory, and its fireplace held Zia’s treasure trove.
Zia’s head appeared in the doorway to see if they followed.
With a sigh, Natalia released him. “If we’re to leave, I’ve a single request.” Her face flushed pink, and his heart ceased to beat while he waited for her next words, hoping. “Share my bed tonight?”
He stopped breathing. “You’re certain?” He’d hardly dared hope for her forgiveness, let alone such an invitation. His groin stirred. If only he could sweep her off her feet, he would carry her to her bedchamber this very second. “I’m not at my best.” And never would be again.
But if she still wanted him…
“Was our earlier kiss not demonstration enough? I’m tired of regrets, and we’ve waited long enough. Don’t make me ask again.” Even her ears were now red.
“Oh, I won’t.” He tucked a stand of golden hair behind her ear, then leaned close to whisper, “The moment I first laid eyes on you, I was lost.” She shivered as he pressed his lips to the edge of her jaw, working his way back to her sweet lips. “And there’s no need to wait for nightfall.”
Zia hissed her impatience, and Natalia sighed. “The interruptions won’t cease until we see what Zia is about.” Her palm ran over the rough surface of his beard, and a teasing light flickered in her eyes. “But then…”
It took every last effort to step away from her, but the sooner Zia was allowed to show him her latest treasure, the sooner she would settle.
Luke scanned the room as he entered. Alongside one wall stretched a length of tables and cabinets placed end-to-end, their surfaces covered with all manner of chemistry equipment. Beakers and burets. Crucibles and clamps. Filters and flasks. The same cluttered chaos he recalled.
Only now weapons were everywhere. A staggering array of sharp, steel edges gleamed. Propped against the wall, hung from hooks, piled in corners were swords, crossbows, bows and arrows. Even a pike. “It’s a wonder there are any weapons left in the great hall.”
“We found more stored in the cellars.” She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t spend every hour at the workbench.” She picked up a crossbow and slid a palm over the wooden surface of its tiller as he hoped she might soon run her hand over his— “Swordplay, target practice, knife throwing, all diversions that have proved useful. Save the rifles. I’ve not the powder or the bullets.”
Thank aether.
Clamping his jaw shut and ignoring the curved stairs in the corner that led to her bedchamber above, he turned his attention to Zia, kneeling beside her on the thick carpet that stretched before the hearth. The dragon was shoving aside rocks, bits of metal and such, hunting for a particular item she wished to display. He waited patiently.
