by Bianca D'Arc
Now that Envard was injured, though, he might have more luck. For one thing, Envard wasn’t able to deny Thorn access to the keep’s archives now that he was stuck in bed. Thorn decided to have a look at what he might be able to find in the records at his earliest convenience.
Thorn was good at ferreting out secrets and he’d solved more than one mystery by careful study of old, forgotten records. He’d wanted to see what he could dig up at Fadoral Keep for a long time and finally had an opportunity to search without impediment. He would make the most of his time here while the young lord was incapacitated.
Lady Cara finished her task and Master Tristan helped her down, his hands lingering on her trim waist perhaps a fraction too long, but Thorn couldn’t fault him. If it had been Thorn with his hands around the lovely lady, he would probably have pressed his advantage much further by now. All in all, Thorn had to admit Tristan treated Lady Cara as fine as any noble gentlemen—or any knight of the realm, for that matter.
Cara was well on her way to being overwhelmed by the two men. They were both huge and muscular, taking up far too much space in the increasingly small enclosure. Tristan was at her back, walking close behind her as she left the narrow space between the two dragons.
She could feel not only the heat generated by the dragons, but also the warmth of Tristan that seemed to surround her from behind. He smelled good too. Like leather and the pleasantly fragrant oil he used on his blades. It was something he’d brought with him from his homeland and the scent intrigued her almost as much as he did.
Sir Thorn waited in front of her. There was no way out except by passing very close to him. He didn’t seem inclined to move either, which made her excitedly wary. Why wouldn’t he shift to let her pass? What was he up to?
The moment of truth was at hand. She’d walked as far as she could without brushing past Sir Thorn and he hadn’t moved. She stopped, looking up into his golden eyes, surprised to find a teasing sort of arousal in his gaze. Was she reading him right? Was he truly interested in her? And why now—with Tristan halted only inches from her back?
Thorn stood from his leaning position and faced her. They were very close now and when Thorn moved, Tristan had followed suit. She was sandwiched between the two big men, confused by their actions. Were they competing over her in some way? She didn’t think it likely. Even though she and Tristan had spent one amazing night together, he’d been studious in avoiding her presence except in extraordinary circumstances. In fact, he’d made her feel as if he regretted the incident, which broke her heart a little.
Sir Thorn, on the other hand, had been nothing but friendly to her. Although she often got the impression he liked her, he had never taken it any farther. He’d never kissed her. Not even on the cheek. He’d never sought her out to be alone with her on the many visits he’d made to the keep. He’d been pleasant, but he hadn’t once given her any indication that he might be interested in something more than friendship.
Until tonight.
“Thank you for taking such good care of Rath,” Thorn said in a low, intimate tone she had never heard from him before.
“It’s my pleasure to be of service to him,” she replied, somewhat formally. Thorn was standing much too close and Tristan was mirroring him behind her.
Thorn moved even closer and she backed up—right into Tristan. His hands went to her hips to steady her and…stayed there. She liked the warm feel of his big hands on her hips, but she couldn’t concentrate with Thorn moving in even closer.
“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.
“Yes,” Tristan added over her shoulder. “What are you doing, Sir Thorn? Cara is a lady and I will defend her honor even against a knight of the realm.”
She heard the anger and confusion in Tristan’s voice, near her ear. He sounded firm and challenging, though clearly puzzled by the strange turn of events. Goddess help her, the closeness of the two men was working on her senses. If either one wanted to have her at this very moment, she would be powerless to resist. In fact, she wouldn’t even want to resist.
“Are you drunk?” Tristan added, almost as an afterthought.
“Not drunk, Master Tristan. Merely…curious,” Thorn said, adding to her confusion. The heat of his body in front and Tristan from behind was making her giddy.
“What are you curious about that you would accost Lady Cara in this way?” Tristan demanded, a bit more anger showing.
“I am curious about something Sharlis told me earlier. You can both hear the dragons when they speak. And it’s clear to me that we are both attracted to the lovely Cara. Are we not, Master Tristan?” He paused, raising one brow as he posed the rhetorical question. Tristan didn’t answer, but she heard a slight gulp as he swallowed hard behind her. “I think perhaps the lady is drawn to both of us as well.” One of his eyebrows rose in speculation, but he didn’t push her for an answer, thank goodness. “It is just possible that all of us can have what we want.”
“I do not understand,” Tristan said after a moment.
In that moment of silence, Cara thought she understood what Sir Thorn was driving at and the very idea made her mouth go dry. The thoughts raised by his words both tantalized and confused her. She couldn’t have spoken, even if she’d wanted to. As it was, she was dumbfounded by the idea that the dragoness had been discussing such intimate matters with her knight.
Cara had to take a couple of deep breaths to help her gather her wits. But every time she breathed in, she was engulfed in the delicious essences of the two men, blending together into something so intriguing and sublime that she was hard pressed to think clearly.
She had to dig deep to find her courage. The same courage she’d had to encourage within herself to go out to battle with the soldiers of her brother’s keep. That very same courage would help her now. If she was going to deal with these two men at all in the future, she had to assert herself now or they’d run roughshod over her forever. Just as Envard did. And that she would not allow.
“Sir Thorn,” she began in as strong a voice as she could muster. She was proud of herself when it didn’t quaver. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her, seeming intrigued by what she might say. That was a good start. “I do not think my brother would consent to such a union.”
“Is that your only objection?” His voice dropped to low, husky tones as he smiled at her.
“What union? What are you two talking about?” Tristan groused from behind.
But Thorn wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even waiting for Cara’s answer. His head dipped lower and then his lips met hers in their first kiss. It was delicious and mysterious, hinting at more than she had ever dreamed of. Her blood heated with his nearness and the rough feel of his beard stubble against her skin.
It took her out of time. Out of place. He made her feel as if all was suddenly right in her world.
But it couldn’t last.
Tristan’s hands tightened on her waist and pulled her sharply backward, away from Thorn.
It was the wrong move. Her defensive training kicked in and she delivered a sharp elbow jab to the midsection of the man attacking her from behind. At least, that’s how her cloudy mind perceived the action.
Tristan gave voice to a huge oof of mixed surprise and pain. He backed up, doubling over as Cara realized what she’d done.
Thorn was laughing at Tristan’s predicament, which made her feel ridiculous. Anger swept in to replace embarrassment as she pushed her way past Thorn, out into the dark night.
Chapter Seven
“Very smooth, gentlemen,” Rath commented dryly, sending rings of smoky amusement wafting toward the ceiling.
“Why did you molest her in that fashion? I fail to understand this land or its people.” Tristan shook his head, his breath returning after the wallop Cara had delivered, which had knocked the wind from him.
He remained slightly bent at the waist, one hand rubbing his abused midsection as he looked up at the knight and dragon. He’d been alarmed at Thorn’s ac
tions—and even more alarmed when watching the other man kiss her brought a wave of sexual excitement the likes of which he’d never known before. Something was happening here. Something he didn’t understand. It was as if he was operating with only half the information he needed, something any good battle commander would not—and should not—tolerate.
Thorn gave a long sigh before answering. “That could have gone better,” he seemed to remark to himself. Tristan didn’t like the long, lingering look the other man gave Cara’s retreating back. “I’m sorry, my friend. You took the brunt of my bungling attempt to find out if she was receptive.” Thorn clapped Tristan on the shoulder, surprising him.
“Receptive to what? A bad attempt at romance? You should have waited until you were alone. Or not done it at all. Can’t you see you’ve upset her?” Tristan was getting angrier by the moment. “Why would you do that in front of me?”
Thorn turned and gave him a speculative look Tristan didn’t quite understand. “To see if you were open to it as well.”
“I repeat—open to what?” Anger was coming much closer to the surface. The knight had better start explaining his cryptic words soon or Tristan was going to beat some sense into the man—knight of the realm or not.
“To sharing,” Rath said abruptly, bringing Tristan’s focus to the dragon.
“Sharing? Sharing what?” It took him only a moment to draw some startling conclusions. “You don’t mean…” Tristan was scandalized, but if he was being honest, he was also aroused by what had just happened and what these two Draconians were hinting at.
“Sharing her life with you and Thorn. And with us. So we can all be a family,” Rath said, twining his neck with the dragoness’s in a clear display of affection.
“You’ve made your decision, then?” Thorn addressed the dragon directly, bypassing Tristan, who still didn’t understand exactly what was going on here. He had thought he’d figured out the strange way Draconians used language, but apparently he still had a lot to learn. These people were talking in circles!
“Truth be told, the decision was made when he climbed up that skith’s back and showed more bravery and skill than any warrior I have ever beheld.” Rath’s voice sounded warm as the dragon referred to Tristan’s actions that very afternoon. But other than that, he was still having a hard time following the conversation. The dragon turned his large head, untwining his neck from that of his mate and bending low to meet Tristan’s gaze directly. “I have been searching for a warrior of great skill, with a pure heart and the willingness to sacrifice of himself for others. Your actions today and the magic that rises when a dragon seeks a knight show me that you are that man. If you can forever put aside your homeland and make your life here in Draconia, swearing allegiance to our king and people, I will choose you as my knight partner, to share my life and that of my family for the rest of your days.”
Tristan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Or feeling. The dragon’s warm magic rose up and surrounded him for a moment, giving him a glimpse of what his life here, with these people, could be like. So different from the lonely path he had envisioned for himself—and very like the promises his prophetess sister had made of the life he could find when he left Elderland. Could it be true? Could he have such a rich and fulfilling life? Tristan hadn’t dared believe it could be so.
“I have already given up all claims to the throne of my homeland and severed all ties with my family in a formal ceremony before I left. It is as if I was never born to that family or Clan. I am alone… I thought I would remain alone for all my days, wandering without a home.” Tears formed in Tristan’s eyes as he spoke the words straight from his heart, somehow drawn to the surface by the dragon’s magic. Tristan knew only the dragon’s jeweled gaze and the connection he could already feel tentatively forming between their souls. “What you offer seems like a dream, Sir Rath.” His voice dropped to a whisper.
The dragon nodded. “A dream of the best kind. One that can come true, if you agree.”
“I admit, my grasp of your use of language is poorer than I thought. If I agree to be your knight, what must I do in return? It seems as if I gain much more than you do from this arrangement.” Tristan’s early training in diplomacy prodded him to ask the particulars before consenting to anything.
“You agree to serve Draconia for the rest of your days as my knight. In due course, Sharlis and I would like to resume our relationship. That means you and Thorn will have to convince a woman—Lady Cara, if my senses do not deceive me—to marry you both and share your lives.” Rath nodded his big head toward where Cara had disappeared into the front door of the keep. “Your life will be filled with joy and hardship. Happiness and sorrow. Just as all other people’s lives. The only difference is that you will be part of a Lair family, living among warriors, fighting alongside other knights and dragons, and sharing your mate with Thorn. We will raise any young—human child or dragonet—together. You will live out your life with us as part of a much larger family and Draconia will be your home for the rest of your days.”
Tristan was nearly bowled over at the idea. Shocked and hopeful. Could he really have what the dragon described? Did he dare accept?
“May I have time to think about all you have said?” Tristan asked, stalling. He could not make such a leap without thinking it through—and at least talking to Lady Cara.
He did not want to leave the keep if she did not come with him. From the moment he’d first seen her, he’d vowed to protect her. The new lord was not kind to his sister and Tristan would not leave her without a champion if she decided to stay.
“As you wish. I will be here, healing for a few days. Thorn and Sharlis will stay as long as they can. Perhaps Thorn can give you a better idea of what being a knight is all about from the human perspective.” Rath bowed his head and broke the connection that held Tristan in place. He seemed disappointed, which made Tristan feel bad, but there was little he could do about it at the moment.
“Come, Master Tristan,” Thorn said, grasping Tristan’s shoulder and guiding him toward the keep. “Let’s find a cask of wine and a quiet corner to discuss this. If we are to be fighting partners, we should get to know each other better.”
Feeling somewhat bewildered by all that had just happened, Tristan allowed the knight to usher him out of the dragons’ enclosure. He had a great deal to think about and Thorn’s suggestion of wine and conversation would be welcome to help Tristan sort out his thoughts and questions about the dragon’s offer.
Cara ran back into the keep and up to her room without looking back. The men had confused her and yes, she would admit to a bit of fear. Not fear of them, per se, but more a fear of what her future might hold. Did she dare dream of a different future than the one Envard had planned for her? Could she really escape the bonds of being a keep-bred noblewoman and grab the life she wanted with both hands? Or would it be denied her? Again.
She had already stretched the bounds of the precisely prescribed borders of her life. Her father had indulged her—over her brother’s objections. She’d been allowed to learn to fight and ride alongside the men. Envard hadn’t liked it and took every opportunity to try to cut her down to size. He didn’t realize his constant teasing and testing had only made her want to be better and try harder.
She was a better warrior than Envard, at any rate. He’d fallen in his first battle after their father died. It was for the lord of the keep to lead the charge and he’d done so to disastrous effect. His first battle as lord and he’d been knocked off his horse, unable to rise. His only bit of good fortune was that he hadn’t died. He had a very serious leg wound that kept him abed, but that wouldn’t last forever.
Cara’s short days of respite would come to an end when her brother rose from his sickbed. She wouldn’t be allowed to ride with the soldiers anymore and Envard would probably send her packing as soon as he could sign a marriage contract on her behalf. He wouldn’t let her choose the man he sold her to. For that’s what it was. He would sell her o
ff to some old man in exchange for lands or goods or whatever he could gain from the match.
He’d have to send a dowry, but Fadoral Keep had riches to spare. What they needed was land and people to work it. Land away from the border would be preferable and there were quite a few lords on adjacent holdings looking for suitable brides. Envard wouldn’t care if she liked her husband or not. He’d sell her to whoever offered him the best deal.
Cara couldn’t stand the thought of it.
But could she become a knight’s lady? Could she handle all that implied? Frankly, she wasn’t sure.
She loved the dragons, but the idea of having not one, but two husbands, filled her with trepidation. She wasn’t naïve. She knew what went on between a man and woman. She’d enjoyed her one night with Tristan and longed for more. But being with two men at once was beyond her.
The idea did fire her imagination though. She was attracted to both Thorn and Tristan. She’d fantasized about both of them—the one she’d been with and the one who was forever out of reach. But those fantasies had never starred both men at the same time.
Troubled dreams of the two men followed her into sleep and didn’t let up until morning. She woke tired, with a headache that didn’t bode well for the rest of her day. Things only got worse when she went to check on Envard, to find him sitting up, eating a huge breakfast. He was clear of the fever that had plagued him, on the mend and apparently eager to start running her life again.
“Where have you been?” His tone was accusatory and he didn’t wait for her to reply. “I want an accounting of the battles since I was injured. Why hasn’t the Master at Arms been delivering reports to me?”
“You were gravely ill, Brother,” she reminded him. He was always more unreasonable when he was sick.
“That means nothing. He should have been giving me daily reports at the very least. I have sent for him and will sack him if his words are not to my liking.” Now he sounded petulant. Oh dear. It was going to be one of those mornings.
