Beyond Time: A Dark Order of the Dragon Novel (The Dark Order of the Dragon Book 2)

by Sandra Bischoff

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Lance’s hand hovered over the handle of his door as the day’s events replayed in his head. It all started out so simple, easy even. All he had to do was watch over his charge. A piece of cake. What could possibly go wrong?

  Everything.

  You’ll be fine. All you have to do is sit there while she collects plants.

  Big fat fucking lie there.

  The lady was a magnet for danger, mayhem, and anything else that could ever go wrong. He must have sucker written across his forehead because he bought into the lie they told him.

  Let’s see, get my ass kicked by dear old dad on the training field or doze under a tree while Beth wanders in a field . . .

  Shit. No brainer. Until he wound up in an Allstate Insurance commercial–Mayhem, Medieval Style.

  When he saw her lying at the bottom of that cavern, Lance couldn’t believe he had been so stupid to believe any job involving Lady Distress would be easy. Quite the contrary. Elizabeth was slowly turning his whole existence upside down and wearing out his only pair of boots in the process.

  A thud and muffled curse on the other side of the door shook him from his thoughts. He slipped the dagger free from his boot, palming it, and slowly pushed the door open. Lance stepped softly into the pitch black chamber, his wolf hearing alert, listening for any sign of his intruder.

  His gaze darted around the room. Nothing seemed out of place except the stool in the center of the room. The door behind him slammed shut. Lance spun on his heel and let the dagger fly. A loud hiss let him know he hit his mark.

  Candles around the chamber flared to life. The intruder stepped forward, pulling the dagger from his shoulder and handing it hilt first to Lance. “I see your aim has improved. How is your swordplay? Still eating plenty of grass?”

  Lance retrieved his weapon wiping the blood from it on the hem of his tunic. “More like dirt and mud, but I hold my own.”

  Zephyr smirked. “Really? Would you like to have a go at it? I bet I could still make you cry like a girl.”

  He slipped the dagger back in his boot. “What the hell are you doing here, Z?”

  “I’ve come looking for Sam.”

  Lance frowned. “Why? What’s happened?”

  He waved away Lance’s concern. “Nothing to be worried about. I made a promise to bring her home.”

  A low growl rolled through Lance. “Don’t lie to me, Z.”

  “I’m not. Look, wolf, I tried her chamber . . .”

  Lance narrowed his eyes. “How the hell do you know where Sam’s room is?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough, trust me.”

  Zephyr’s knowing smile irked him.

  “That’s comforting. You have to bring her home for some huge secret. Great.” Lance shrugged, turning away from Zephyr to pour water into a bowl. He dunked a rag in it and wiped off his face wincing as the rough material touched what had to be a busted lip and the beginnings of a black eye. “Good luck with that.”

  “What does that mean?” Zephyr spun Lance around to face him.

  Lance tossed the rag in the bowl, sloshing water all over the table and floor. “It means, I have no fucking clue where Sam is. She dumped my ass here with the family from hell and vanished. Didn’t even say good-bye.” Lance’s jaw ticked. “So when I say good luck, I mean I really don’t give a shit where she is.”

  “You can’t mean that. She wouldn’t have left.”

  “Oh, I mean it. Sam made sure I was delivered all wrapped up nice and neat with a bow and then went poof. Ordinarily that wouldn’t bother me but, hello, I’m stuck in Camelot! No way to get home.” He paused. “Wait a second, how did you get here?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “The hell it’s not! You mean to tell me, you can pull me out of here? What are you waiting for?” Lance picked his cloak up and tied it around his neck. “Haul my ass back to New York. I’m done with this shit.”

  “No.” Zephyr leaned on the closed door, arms folded over his chest.

  “No? Why not?” Lance scoffed.

  “You haven’t learned what you need to know yet.”

  “Bullshit! The sperm donor and the golden boy have drilled swordplay, chivalry and courtly virtues into me. It bleeds from every orifice and pore in my body. Not to mention they both kicked my ass repeatedly on the training field. I think I got this.”

  Zephyr shook his head. “Lance, you may have been taught but you have yet to learn, or lead. When the time comes for you to come back, you will know. At that time, you will not need anyone to send you back.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  “That sucks.” Lance yanked off his cloak and tossed it over the stool. His sword, dagger, tunic, and boots joined it as he dropped onto the bed. “Why is it so important that Sam goes back with you?”

  Zephyr sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Alex is having complications.”

  Lance stared at him blankly. “And you’re here with me? Have you lost your mind? Get your ass back there!”

  “But, Semiramis . . .”

  “Semiramis, nothing. I’d be willing to bet my life and my wolf that Sam is already there.” Lance yawned and laid back, eyes closed. “Go home, Z. You’re needed there.”

  “Du Lac?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t worry; it won’t be much longer you’re here. You’ll be fine.”

  All around them the candles extinguished one by one, till only the one next to the bed remained lit. Lance cracked open one eye. “Your mouth to the Goddess’ ears.”

  “Make no mistake, your test is coming. But as you said, you got this. Good luck, Pup.”

  Before Lance could scoff at him, Zephyr was gone. He was once again alone with his thoughts. The more he went over things the vampire said, Lance had to wonder about the hidden meanings. A visit to Merlin could be his answer to sort things out. What else could possibly go wrong? Maybe the wizard would have pity on him and send him home. One could only hope.

  Thirteen

  Upon Lady Elaine taking her leave, Elizabeth couldn’t help but think about the men her Ladyship warned her off of. It was unfair. To tell her she must forget about them yet see them almost every minute of every day, was plain and simple torture. But, if she obeyed the request, she could gain her freedom from her betrothal.

  It was almost worth it.

  There was still a voice inside haunting her. It nagged, trying to make her see it wasn’t Lady Elaine’s place to make decisions for her sons. They were grown men. She had no right.

  Elizabeth tossed her covers aside, rose from the bed, and began pacing. She mulled over the events from the past month. Her arrival in King Arthur’s court, the eerie glow in the forest, the voice calling to her, and now her mixed up feelings for the Du Lac brothers. Each pointed to the fact that she should break her promise to Lady Elaine and pursue one, if not both, of her sons so she may see their true feelings toward her. Or was she merely harboring a grand infatuation for both of them, an infatuation that would only end in heartbreak?

  She hoped with everything in her being that wasn’t the case.

  After the twentieth time circling the chairs before the hearth, Elizabeth’s mind was made up. She wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and that’s what Lady Elaine had thrown at her feet. The gauntlet had been cast. She wouldn’t turn and run from it or meekly give up.

  No. Elizabeth knew what she wanted and she knew how she would go about getting it.

  Donning her soft leather slippers, she fastened her cloak around her neck and quietly pulled the door open. To her surprise, the ever present guard was nowhere to be seen. Luck was on her side this night.

  As quietly as she opened the door, she shut it behind her. The hood of her cloak concealed her identity. Elizabeth was a ghost among the shadows, making her way toward her destination. If anyone discovered what she was up to, not only would her plan go up in smoke, she most certainly be sent far away from this pl
ace never to see either brother again. Ordinarily, she might have waited till the morning, but something kept telling her time was of the essence. The sand in her hour glass was slipping away fast.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. No one followed her, not even her maid.

  Rounding the corner, she stopped short. Hearing voices echoing up from the great hall bellow, Elizabeth panicked. They were getting closer. Picking up her pace, she raced toward the door at the end of the hall. Before the owners of the disembodied voices came into sight, she opened the door, ducked inside and closed it quietly behind her. Leaning back, Elizabeth finally let out the breath she had been holding.

  His door closing woke Lance. He lay in his side, back to the door. The position gave him the opportunity to wrap his fingers tightly around the dagger beneath his pillow. The air stirred slightly, letting him know the trespasser was getting a feel for their surroundings. Lance braced himself for the attack.

  His first reaction, Zephyr returned to test his patience again.

  Instead of being assaulted by au de vampire, the soothing aroma of blooming heather embraced him. Lance instantly relaxed, recognizing Elizabeth’s unique scent. Confused, he lay still waiting for her to make her move, but she stood near the door still as a statue. Silently he willed her to come closer. As if she heard him, Elizabeth stepped closer until she was mere inches from the bed.

  Releasing the dagger, Lance rolled onto his back, eyes closed, waiting. Expecting to sense her fear, he was surprised when all he felt was hesitance. He cracked open one eye, thankful the wolf’s night vision was still part of him. She stood, watching him sleep. The moonlight illuminated her face making her emerald eyes sparkle. The soft curve of her cheek beckoned him to touch it. Her full pink lips parted slightly as she breathed. It took all of his resolve not to reach out to her and taste them.

  The mattress creaked under her weight as she sat beside him. Lance immediately shut his eye. With a shaking hand she brushed the hair back from his face revealing a dark bruise on his cheekbone.

  “This is entirely my fault. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Elizabeth touched it lightly. He winced, opening his eyes. His scalding hazel gaze met hers. Before she could pull back, he caught her wrist and pulled her closer. She gasped but did not pull away. His other hand cupped her cheek; his calloused thumb caressed the velvet softness of it. Her lips parted to speak. Lance never gave her the chance. He pulled her down onto the bed, rolled over her, trapping her beneath him.

  He nudged her nose with the tip of his. “You have no idea how dangerous this game is you play, cher.”

  “I assure you, My Lord, ‘tis not a game I play.” She wiggled beneath him attempting to loosen his hold.

  “Ah, I’d be very careful if I were you. Don’t start something you aren’t prepared to go through with, My Lady.” He pressed his arousal against the juncture of her thighs.

  Elizabeth gasped. “You would not!”

  He rubbed his stubbled cheek against her smooth one leaving a blush of pink flesh in its wake. Burying his nose in her wavy ginger tresses, he inhaled her scent, sighing. “No, I wouldn’t.” Lifting his head, Lance gazed into her green eyes. “But I won’t lie and say the idea hasn’t occurred to me.”

  “How dare you speak to me thus.” She tried to slap him, but Lance caught her hand, pinning it to the bed.

  “How dare I? Okay, let’s examine this, shall we?” The corner of his mouth tugged with amusement. “You snuck into my room and caressed my face. I’m quite sure if I hadn’t stopped you, you would have crawled into bed with me to cuddle. Am I right?”

  “Nay!” She hissed. “I came to make sure you were well. Your mother told me--”

  Lance groaned leaning his forehead on hers. “And the mood is gone.”

  “What? What did I do?”

  Lance smirked. “A little lesson for you. When there is a man in your bed, never, and I do mean never mention his mother. Its cock-block central.”

  She frowned. “Cock-block? What does a rooster have to do with any of this?”

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. “Not a rooster. It means, cher, that mentioning my mother has officially put me out of the mood to bed you. Is that better?” He let go of her hands and shifted off her.

  “Nay.”

  “Would you rather I did bed you then?” Lance wrapped a stray tendril of her hair around his index finger hiding his smile.

  “‘Tis not what I said.”

  “Then tell me, Beth, what is it you came looking for? Why are you here?”

  Instead of answering him, her hands framed his face and pulled him down to her. Their lips met. A bolt of lightning shot through him. Lance growled. The wolf pushed its way to the front, wanting to devour her. His tongue teased hers, tasting the sweet honey her mouth had to offer. Breaking the kiss, he nipped her bottom lip. “For someone who doesn’t want to be in bed with me, you have a hell of a way of showing it.”

  She stroked the bruise on his cheek with her fingertips. “I did not come here to lay with you, Christian. I came to make sure you were safe. I was told that you fought with Sir Galahad.”

  “Another lesson, cher. Don’t bring up the lil’ bro either.” He chuckled.

  She let out a frustrated breath. “Then pray tell me, what I can say? I am trying to explain why I am here.”

  “I’m teasing. Please, go on.” He brushed her lips with his.

  “Like I said, I was told of the fight and had to see for myself that you were unharmed. I know the strength Sir Galahad has in his sword arm.”

  Lance growled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It means he is a powerful knight. You shall see for yourself at the tournament.” Elizabeth cupped his bruised cheek. “Judging from this, I can see you already know that.”

  His hand covered hers as he turned his lips into her palm. “Yeah, well you should see him. I got in a few good punches too.”

  “Oh, I fully intend to.” She pushed up and sat on the edge of the bed, arranging her cloak around her.

  “What? Wait, there’s no way I’m letting you do that.”

  “No way you will let me? I am sorry, Christian, you may be appointed my personal guard, but you have no claim over me. I am free to do as I wish. See who I want to see.” Standing abruptly, she put distance between them.

  “And go from one bed to another in the middle of the night? Really, Elizabeth?”

  “I am not a common whore and you will not address me that way.” Her hand connected with his already bruised cheek quicker than a cobra strike. The slap echoed in the darkness. Pain flared across Lance’s face.

  His lip curled in a snarl. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck . . .”

  Elizabeth backed away till her heels hit the door behind her. “I was wrong to come here. I should have heeded your mother’s warning.” She turned and wrapped her fingers around the door handle.

  “Beth, wait.” Lance rose and stepped behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “What did my mother say to you?”

  “Lady Elaine said she would bend the King’s ear to break my betrothal, but . . .”

  He turned her to face him. “But? What condition did she put on her help?”

  Elizabeth kept her eyes downcast, focusing on the fabric she twisted in her fingers. “Her ladyship bade me to stay away from both you and Galahad.”

  Lance cupped her face in his hands, gently forcing her to look at him. “And what reason did she give for that?” The wolf was alert and pacing in his mind.

  “She said Sir Galahad was meant for something greater and you would be leaving again. She warned me there could never be a future for me with either of you.”

  His thumb traced her bottom lip. “And what is it you want?” He leaned in closer, his lips a breath away from hers.

  “I do not know.” Her whisper was barely audible.

  Reaching behind her, Lance opened the door. “Until you do,
cher, I suggest you heed her warning and stay away.”

  Elizabeth blinked and pulled away, pausing to glance in his direction once more before slipping into the torch lit passageway.

  Fourteen

  Elizabeth ran down the corridor unable to get away from Christian fast enough. She should have listened to the rumors. He was Sir Lancelot’s son after all. Tales of his father’s legendary prowess were told by bards all over the countryside. The apple obviously didn’t fall far from the tree.

  Rounding the corner, she heard the echo of his door closing. Elizabeth leaned her back against the cold stone wall and tried to catch her breath. It was foolish of her to go to his chamber in the middle of the night. If anyone had seen her, God only knew what would have happened. Surely it would have resulted in yet another appearance before her uncle. King Arthur, being at his wits end, would most likely send her to the convent until her betrothed came to claim her.

  She could not let that happen.

  It was bad enough to be betrothed to a Lord she never met. But to spend her days in solitude and prayer? Elizabeth would rather be drawn and quartered. It strengthened her resolve to find a way out of the agreement between her father and Lord Rimmon.

  Peeking back toward his chamber, Elizabeth wondered about the lost son of Camelot. Where has he been all these years? The man was a mystery to her. A mystery she had every intention of unraveling.

  “I will know your secrets, Christian,” she whispered.

  A hand touched her elbow. “And what secrets do you think my brother holds for you?”

  Startled, Elizabeth spun around with a gasp. Galahad grabbed her arms and pulled her close. She braced her hands across the hard plane of his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the thin tunic. Lifting her chin, she gazed up into the sapphire depths looking back at her, mocking her.

  His lips were so close, all she would have to do was rise to her toes--