by Darby, Brit
Sated, Cailin drifted into a dreamless sleep, curled safely in her Dragon’s arms.
DRAKE KNEW CAILIN SLEPT, her soft, even breathing in rhythm with the rise and fall of his own bare chest. She snuggled into him, and he drew her tighter to his warmth. He pulled her cloak over them and closed his own eyes. But he knew sleep would not come.
The night air touched him, the fine sheen of perspiration that covered their naked bodies dissipating beneath its chill. Cailin’s body molded against his perfectly. In the past, he’d never felt comfortable with intimacy after sex. But with Cailin, it seemed natural, as if meant to be.
This thought shattered the sleepy images in Drake’s mind. He remembered his earlier words. He practically demanded she rut with him or he’d not help her. Shame scorched his mind, guilt paraded a close second.
He was surprised she obliged so willingly, her passions wild and unchecked. She was so uninhibited he might have suspected her of being a loose woman had it not been for the recollection of her virginal resistance at his entry.
Drake did not doubt her innocence. So, why did she succumb to his lecherous demands? Was she so desperate to find her father she surrendered her very virtue for a noble cause?
His pride flared. Damn it, the wench could have said no. He’d not have raped her — he had no taste for taking women against their will. Though truth be known, he’d never had any difficulty in finding a willing, warm woman.
On and on his mind warred with his heart. In the end, neither claimed victory. In the wee hours of the morning, he finally drifted into a fitful sleep, silently damning the woman he held in his arms. Cursing her for the beguiling witch she was.
Chapter Nine
DRAKE SHOOK CAILIN’S SHOULDER gently. Her sleepy eyes opened; dark lavender, like the dawn sky above them now, just as the sun breaks the horizon and greets the day.
“You’d best be up, lest you get caught in your state of undress.”
Her eyes widened. Shock, embarrassment, horror all flitted across her face. Drake sensed her upset and tried to distract her with humor.
“Leo sleeps like the dead, but I doubt he’ll miss a naked woman only a few feet away.”
Still, she seemed to be unable to move. Drake picked up her discarded clothing and knelt down beside her. “Here. Would you like some help?”
Cailin abruptly jerked the clothes from his hands. “I can manage.” She avoided his gaze as she rose and turned her back to him. The shapely, long line of her bare back tempted Drake to take the tunic back off even as she slipped it over her head. Soon drab brown wool covered the silky flesh he longed to touch again. He wanted to explore her enticing figure at a more leisurely pace, and in the full light of day.
Drake closed his eyes and tried to gather his wayward thoughts. He shouldn’t allow a fine figure of a woman to temp him into her snare. Already he had committed himself to traveling with Cailin, helping her to find her father. Constantinople — out of all places on the damned earth, it was the most dangerous place for them to go. He was a fool to even consider it.
“I’m done,” Cailin whispered, sounding tense.
He hadn’t realized he was standing there with his eyes closed like an idiot. When he opened them, their gazes locked as morning light burst over the hill. Suddenly, neither of them knew what to say, how to act. It reminded Drake of his first time with a woman. Shy, awkward, only sixteen years of age. God’s blood, this woman affected him strangely.
“Good,” he mumbled, turning away from her.
Cailin felt close to tears as she gazed at Drake’s rigid back. She never cried. The raw emotion confused and angered her. Why on earth did she feel like crying now? She had no cause for tears. What she did with Drake … what she gave him, she knew, meant nothing. Why should it matter that he seemed remote, cold and untouchable this morning? Uncaring. Unloving. Why should she care he had no tender words?
She kept the tears at bay and imagined how a man might act. “So then,” she spoke calmly and coolly as she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, “I trust our bargain’s made?”
“What bargain?” Drake turned back to her, his face dark, his expression unreadable.
Cailin regretted speaking. His angry, brooding gaze clashed with hers. “I’m assuming we struck a bargain.”
“Is that what you think last night was about?”
“That was your insinuation.” Cailin felt her anger wavering, leaving her worn and spent. It took all her strength not to run in the face of his animosity. She was almost afraid and hated the feeling, as much as she hated tears. But what did she fear? She did not fear him harming her. This emotion ran deeper, stronger, something more destructive than physical violence. More absolute.
“Aye,” he finally said. “A bargain has been made.” He stalked off.
CAILIN STEPPED INTO THE boat and settled in the stern, steering oar in hand. Swooping down from the sky, Disir settled upon her shoulder. The raven cawed as if prodding her to get going and Cailin almost laughed. Then she saw Drake’s look and any levity fled in the icy wake of his stare.
Drake and Leo pushed the boat to deeper water before jumping in. They each picked up an oar and for some time, the dip and splash of the oars was the only sound. Cailin shaded her eyes and gazed out over the water, mentally mapping their location. Things were starting to look familiar.
“My father’s cousin has a farm not too far down the coast,” she said. “We’ll be welcome there. They’ll know where we can get horses and supplies.”
Drake turned slightly in his seat but did not look at her. “Won’t your relatives think it odd you’re traveling in the company of two strange men?”
She shrugged. “Possibly.”
“Doesn’t that worry you?” Leo asked, his kind face showing concern.
“Why should it?”
Cailin hadn’t given thought to how it might look to outsiders. It seemed of little consequence compared to finding Thorvald. Why should it matter what anyone else thought?
“Perhaps we can make up a plausible reason we’re traveling with you,” Leo suggested.
“Why? I’ll just tell them the truth.”
This time, Drake looked at her, his golden eyes hard and striking her innermost core with their intensity. “Will your family approve of your journey? Why wouldn’t they try and stop you, like the people you were running from in Hedeby?”
Irritation chased her patience away. “I was running from one man … not the entire town. You make it sound like I am the one in the wrong.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.” Cailin’s ire rose. “Why should I endure the attentions of a man who wanted to force me into marriage? Who tried to brutalize me when I refused to accept or honor an arrangement he claims my father made just before his death?”
Only the slightest twitch of his jaw even revealed Drake heard her. His eyes, his face showed no reaction. Cailin wanted to reach over and slap him; her aching heart wanted him to display some emotion, even if only rage.
“Why would this man lie?” he finally asked.
“Why wouldn’t he?” she sneered. “He lied about my father’s death.”
Drake was silent. Leo piped up. “Why are you certain your father isn’t dead, Cailin?”
Cailin knew she owed them an explanation; a logical reason for them to put their lives in danger for her. But nothing came to mind. She shook her head. “I cannot explain how I know. Please, trust that I would not ask this of you if it weren’t important. Thorvald lives.”
In an explosion of emotion, Drake reached over and grabbed her shoulder. “Trust?” He shook her and Disir startled into flight, his indignant caw echoing over the waters. “Why should we trust you, woman? We’ve spent the last two years in hell an’ have learned one thing – t’ trust in no one. If you do, ’tis certain death. Do no’ think us so foolish, lass.”
Leo tugged at Drake’s arm, trying to distract his anger from Cailin. “Drake. Cailin’s done nothing to make us think he
r dishonest. Did that witch Zoe destroy any respect you had for women? Can you not see Cailin is not like her?”
“Zoe?” Cailin asked, putting the pieces together in her head when she remembered their dread of returning to Constantinople. “The emperor’s wife?”
Drake withdrew as she spoke, but the emotion she saw burning in the depths of his eyes disturbed her.
“Aye,” Leo said. “But in truth Zoe is not his legal wife, she is his consort. She made up lies about Drake raping her when he refused to assassinate a man for her. The emperor himself in fact. So Emperor Leo sentenced Drake to death based on her lies. I tried to speak up for him, give an honest alibi, but it only bought me the same ticket to hell. At the last minute, Zoe convinced him it would be a much crueler — and amusing — fate to sell us into slavery.”
Drake did not speak but glowered during Leo’s explanation. Cailin didn’t know what to say. Now Drake’s distrust made sense, but it still stung. She decided on the truth and took a deep breath. “I will tell you why I set out on this quest. I am a seer. My Sight usually comes in the form of dreams, though I have had flashes of prophecy when awake. That is how I know my father is alive.”
Silence prevailed. Only the waves sloshing against the boat were heard. Then Disir’s noisy return brought them from their reverie, his caws renting the quiet. As the raven settled back upon her shoulder, Drake spoke.
“You truly believe in these dreams?”
His question was a quiet one, all anger now gone from his voice. Cailin nodded. He looked away, confusion clear on his face. He did not understand. She risked asking a question she wondered since they first met.
“Do the Dragons ever speak to you, Drake?”
“What?”
“The Dragons that cover your flesh … do they speak to you?”
He pushed his hair back from his face, leaving both hands resting on his head as he looked up, watching the clouds in the sky. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Hmm, I think not. But do they speak to you, Cailin? Do my tattoos have something to say?”
She realized Drake teased her, made a joke of her sincere explanation. Cailin pushed the hurt aside, remembering how the people of Tynemoor feared her as a child. Would a Pict be any less suspicious? Most likely not.
She countered mockery with honesty. “Yes, they do. That is how I knew I could trust you.”
His gaze came back to her. “They were wrong, lass.”
“No,” she said, standing firm upon the matter. “I saw your Dragons in my dreams before I ever saw them marked upon your flesh.”
“God’s blood, Cailin. Now you’re givin’ me chills,” Leo said, though his laughter was weak, unconvincing.
Disappointment surged over Cailin when she saw the look on both men’s faces. She could not bear it if they feared her.
She tried another tack. “What made you get those particular tattoos, Drake?”
The topic seemed a touchy one with him. “Why the hell does it matter?”
Cailin removed the leather-bound bundle from her back, and with shaking fingers undid the ties. Lovingly, one by one, she pulled the Dragon swords from their protective sheath and laid them across her knees.
Drake drew in a sharp breath. Cailin offered him one and he took it, giving him the chance to examine the Dragon’s head gracing the hilt. Up close the magnificence of the sword inspired even more awe. He then did the same for the other.
“These are exactly like my tattoos,” he whispered. “I thought as much when I first saw them.”
Leo leaned over for a look. “Aye,” he said. “’Tis the same design, Drake.”
Seeing the wonder in Drake’s eyes, Cailin gambled and risked telling all at that moment. “Your Dragons, Drake, are my Dragons.”
But the spell of fascination broke, and Drake scoffed as he handed the sword back to her. “You talk nonsense, woman, those are but myths our ancestors told.”
“I remember Grandmother telling Dragon tales,” Leo said. “I always thought she was a bit daft.”
Drake looked thoughtful. “Maimeó used to speak of a MacGregor woman, a Scot from Alba, who last possessed the fire of the Dragons.” He spoke in a reflective tone, apparently thinking back on his youth. “But that was hundreds of years ago.”
Cailin’s voice took on the soft burr of the Scots as she quietly said, “My mother was Moira MacGregor of Alba, a descendant of the woman you speak of.”
“God’s wounds …” Leo’s whisper faded into silence.
“Ridiculous.” Drake clung to his disbelief, like a drowning man his hope.
“A bheil sibh cinnteach às a Draig?”
It was Leo who repeated the Gaelic question. “Are you sure, Dragon?”
“Aye, I’m sure,” Drake growled, then grabbed the oar with a vengeance. “Start rowin’, Leo, afore she has you seein’ ghost and goblins, too.”
Cailin said no more.
IT WAS EARLY EVENING when they rowed ashore. A farm sat upon a knoll above a stretch of beach. Within moments they were sighted and people streamed from the longhouse. It was less than a year since Cailin and her father last visited his cousin, Magnus, and his wife, Inge. Recognizing her at once, the couple and their children, all nine of them, and other family members, including Magnus’ mother and father, and Inge’s younger brother and two sisters, hurried to greet them.
The arriving trio then followed the crowd up a stream that twisted along the hill and ran through the farm near the buildings. The main longhouse was wood planked, the other buildings wattle and daub or stone and turf. A stone fence surrounded the farm, separating the fields from the garden.
Cailin saw cattle had already been brought down from the mountain pastures for the oncoming winter. For now, they grazed near the farm, until snow would see them driven into protective enclosures along with the sheep, goats, and horses. Pigs foraged freely, along with geese and chickens. Dogs bounded eagerly everywhere, finding too many interesting things to bark at and chase.
In the blacksmith’s forge they passed, coals burned low and the workers there put tools aside to join the impromptu gathering. Cailin glimpsed hoes, scythes, sickles, rakes and spades all neatly placed inside for winter, repaired and cleaned for next year’s use. She knew by now the last of the crops were harvested, meat and fish salted and dried in the food store. Sweet hay and dried grasses were piled high to provide fodder and bedding for the animals. Peat was cut from the bogs and neatly stacked for winter fires, plenty for the long months ahead.
Smoke from the stone-lined hearth drifted in the chilled air, night falling quick upon their heels as Cailin and her escorts entered the longhouse and formally greeted her family. She spoke to each one who entered, hesitating only as she turned to introduce Drake and Leo to her curious relatives.
Leo piped up. “I’m Leo Talorcan and this is my cousin Drake, Cailin’s husband.”
All went silent. Cailin stood in stunned disbelief. Suddenly, chaos burst out as the women grabbed her in delight, the men shook Drake’s hand and slapped him on the back in congratulations. When they settled down enough for Cailin to speak, she didn’t know what to say.
Leo beamed at his brilliant inspiration and ignored Drake’s scalding look. Cailin was certain they would hear about his cleverness later.
As Cailin studied her family’s happy faces, she found she could not utter the words to take the lie back. The story did make everything simpler. Instead, she smiled and dared only a quick glance at Drake as they were led inside. She sensed he was furious with her, even though she had not been the one to claim they were wed. Somehow, that didn’t matter. He was angry anyway.
Chapter Ten
“WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE, Cailin? Where’s your father?”
Magnus asked innocent questions, but they sent tremors of anxiety through Cailin. She hoped her voice did not betray her nervousness. “Thorvald is still in Miklagard; he’s ill and could not return to Hedeby with his ship and crew.”
Concerned murmurs r
ippled over the family who gathered around, hanging onto every word Cailin spoke. Inge invited them to sit, then handed them all horns of mead and sat down beside her husband on the plank bench. The others all gathered at the table to hear more.
“That’s why we are here, we are passing through on the way to Miklagard to join Fadir. We’ll bring him home when he is recovered,” Cailin said.
Magnus seemed to find no fault with her story. “When were you married, Cailin? Why was there no wedding celebration?”
Cailin took a long drink of the mead while concocting another story on top of the story, lie upon lie. She never lied so brazenly before and it made her uncomfortable. “We planned to marry upon Fadir’s return. When he did not come back with the crew and we heard he was ill, Drake offered to take me to him instead. I gratefully accepted.”
Cailin fell silent, the tale getting harder to spin as the shame of it overcame her. To her surprise, Drake continued where she left off.
“Yes, I thought it best to go ahead with the marriage, under the circumstances. I’m sure her father would agree.”
Magnus nodded, a solemn look upon his face. “It was a wise move. We are all grateful to you for considering our cousin’s reputation.”
“We shall celebrate when Thorvald is fully recovered,” Drake promised, then held up his horn for a salute. “To my beautiful new bride, Cailin.”
Everyone took a drink and Cailin hoped the questioning would end, but it did not.
“Then you have not been married long?” Inge asked.
“Only two days,” Leo offered, his grin widening. “Drake and I were, ah … working when Cailin got word of her father. We left at night and the few things we had packed were lost in a storm. We nearly didn’t make it.”
“You left at night, Cailin?” Magnus looked stunned. “Was a dangerous thing you did.”
“I know, but I was so upset about Fadir, I couldn’t wait until daylight.”
“No matter,” Drake smiled at her, a warm, gentle smile that took Cailin by surprise. It looked genuine. “We are safe now. Without supplies, but safe.”
