Smolder (Clan of Dragons Book 3)

by Nancy Lee Badger

  “You be the one not watching where you be going. I could have killed you, if I hadn’t dropped me sword first.”

  A sword? She stared at the weapon he’d dropped on the ground, then up at the sheath. Was that a bit of red ribbon tied to it? She’d run into a warrior, and could have died all because she sought a quiet place to eat!

  “Me bread!” Ignoring him, she searched for her sack of food only to have two large hands grasp her around the waist, and swing her into his huge chest.

  “Cliona?”

  The man’s breathy response made her go still. He knew Cliona? She looked like her friend, she knew, but would he understand she was not Cliona? She didn’t wish to inhale his manly musk tinged with leather. She shuddered, wondering if his sword’s sheath was made from deer hide. Why did she find the heat from his fingertips tantalizing? Why were his lips open, as if waiting for her to speak. She was frozen. Managing a deep breath, the only words to escape were, “Fairy wings!”

  ***

  Fairies? The female in his arms opened her mouth and shouted at Dougal something about fairies.

  “Please release me, sir. I be not Cliona, but I can explain,” she said.

  As she squirmed, seeking to escape, she rested one hand on his shoulder for support. Heat from her feminine fingertips seared his skin beneath the light shirt he wore, and he found himself wishing she touched him in a more intimate way. When she brushed her unruly brown hair from her face with the other, he gazed into her light brown doe eyes.

  “You will explain, before I let you out of me sight. You be Cliona in the flesh, but…you be not,” he said, growling. Her scent was different than his dead mate. More like spring rain and heather.

  He set her back on her feet, which was the moment she must have realized he’d lifted her up to face him, eye to eye. She stopped struggling, but he kept his hands planted on her waist. He could feel the heat from her skin through her dress. The cloth was a shade of grass green, decorated with brown and blue butterflies. “I be Dougal, and waiting for an answer, lass!”

  “I be…a relation of Cliona Black. I be looking for her, as she seems to have disappeared from…our home.”

  “Liar!”

  She sputtered, as if taken aback by the anger behind his accusation.

  “You be not related to Cliona. You look like her, but why do you lie to me?” His Cliona had no family beside him, but the resemblance was uncanny. He could not let her out of his sight until she answered him. He tightened his grip.

  Fiona gasped. “You be hurting me, sir. I shall try to answer you, but not while imprisoned.”

  As he glared at her, the scent of smoldering ash replaced the aroma of the fresh bread. His inner dragon screamed to be released, to lash out and spew flames. She ought to fear him, and whimper like a meek human lass. For some mysterious reason, he couldn’t make his fingers let her go.

  The human flesh beneath his fingers was warm and silky smooth, and he wondered if the rest of her was as appealing. She smelled heavenly, and the urge to taste her made his groin tighten, and his head lower.

  He melded his mouth with hers, and drank in her deliciousness. She tasted sweet, with a hint of mulled cider. Her lips were as soft and plump as the clouds over the Black Cuillin Hills, and he wondered if her breasts, concealed beneath a shabby dress, were as soft. As he drank of her, his human hands swept over her arms, then found the plump breasts beneath the thin cloth of her dress. Her nipples hardened, and he wished to suckle them next.

  As he deepened the kiss, angling his human head to better cover her mouth, he realized she was not returning his kiss. In fact, she was as still as a mountain. She lashed out, and kicked him.

  “Ouch!” she cried.

  Embarrassed that his touch had not swayed her to continue kissing him, he released her lips. More than that, he shoved her away with an angry growl, although she didn’t actually hurt him.

  She hopped on one foot in pain from striking his shin, and nearly fell over, waving her arms to regain her balance. He opened his mouth to ask her why she didn’t wish to kiss him, but the lass covered her head and cowered, as if she worried he planned to strike her, or burn her with a mouthful of flames. Had she any idea that he was a dragon?

  Nay, ‘tis me imagination.

  “Look at me, lass! You act as if I plan to murder you where you stand. I simply need answers.” Since she obviously did not enjoy his kiss, his voice broke. He couldn’t bear to see the displeasure in her gaze, so he turned his back to her. His shoulders rose and fell, and he labored to breathe. He missed Cliona, and the lass stirred up feelings he thought he’d suppressed. An odd sensation rippled through him, as if an otherworldly creature walked upon his grave.

  An otherworldly? Here? Heat peppered his body, and made him yank his shirt up and off his body. Wearing only the wool plaide, he turned back to apologize for his behavior.

  She had disappeared.

  ***

  Fiona ran, disappearing before he accosted her again. As soon as the black-haired devil turned away and began to remove his garments, she lifted her hem, and flew. Kicking him shot pain through her toes more than his shin, and it had no affect on him. He was obviously upset. He must know Cliona, but since he thought she was her friend, he was no help to her. She couldn’t truthfully answer his questions, and feared he would take out his rising anger on her. Worst of all, she’d dropped her bread.

  She sprinted toward the rear door to the tavern, to find a hiding spot. It wouldn’t be an easy task with so many humans filling the building. As she paused at the backdoor, her heart pounded in her chest. Her lips still tingled, and his taste filled her mouth. Shaking away the memory of his fingers digging into her flesh, she glanced at the dining area. The noisy room was shoulder to shoulder with human males, drinking and laughing.

  At the top of the stairs, a door opened, and a handsome couple emerged. The lass smiled, with her arm around the man’s waist. She laughed and nuzzled the golden-haired male. He wrapped a meaty fist around the base of her neck, beneath her own darker golden curls. She was taller than most females, and he looked familiar.

  Lowering her gaze, Fiona waited until they walked down the stairs and joined the crowd in the dining area. She ran up the stairs, and saw that they’d left their chamber’s door ajar, so she hurried inside. Bracing her back against the door, she exhaled a sigh of relief. She couldn’t stay here. There was only a rumpled bed and a small dresser.

  “The window.” She hurried to the window, and opened it. There was a small bit of roof below it, and she should be able to sit on the roof’s edge, then jump onto a cart parked nearby. She doubted the couple would return soon. The festivities would start at dusk and last for two days, and from the rumpled bed, she had to assume they had already enjoyed each others’ bodies.

  As she glanced out the window, Dougal and Orin walked by. She couldn’t hear them too clearly, but Dougal’s agitated tone, and Orin’s hand movements, meant she might be their topic of conversation. She heard the name Cliona, as well as ornery female.

  “Aye, they be talking about me.”

  Dougal stopped talking. When he raised his gaze toward the window, Fiona backed out of sight. Dragons must have good hearing, she thought.

  She was sure he was Cliona’s Dougal, and a shifter. She didn’t think he’d seen her, so she sat on the edge of the bed. A half-full tankard of ale rested on the floor, and she raised it to her lips and quenched her thirst. With no coin, she had no idea when her next meal would be, so she drank it all. When a nearby door slammed shut, Fiona squeaked.

  Possibly this chamber ‘tis not such a good hiding spot.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Aye, me lord, that be the spot. You have a talented tongue,” a lass said, her voice easily penetrating the wall. Her breathy words were followed by a throaty growl.

  The couple planned to mate in the middle of the day? What if the other couple returned to this room?

  When her thighs tingled and her cheeks heated, she grew
concerned. Dougal’s kiss and roaming fingers had awakened feelings she had no idea how to cope with. If her quest wasn’t so dire, she’d find a human male and enjoy whatever it was humans did in a bed.

  Finding Cliona was too important. Dougal knew her, yet Cliona never mentioned crossing paths with a dragon. Had they met in human form? Had they made love? When Fiona had mentioned Cliona, his deep-set eyes certainly looked filled with lust, or was it longing?

  Once dusk had turned to night, she could wait no longer. Worried the couple would return to their room, she headed back to the window. The cart was still below, but the dragon and the lad were gone.

  She opened the window a crack, and listened. Revelry from the dining area as well as the town center echoed off the surrounding buildings. The festivities had started, so she could climb out safely. Her borrowed gown made it a tad awkward, but getting to the ground was imperative. She still had no idea about Cliona’s whereabouts, or how to answer the dragon, should he catch her again.

  Climbing over the windowsill, she stood upon the slanted roof. She grasped her hem in one hand, and sat. Sliding slowly, she dropped into the empty cart.

  Listening closely, and hearing no one near, she jumped to the ground. Brushing her dress clear of twigs and dust, she finger-comber her hair, and ran inside the tavern. Other villagers might have the information she sought.

  “Can you help me, lass,” a harried young female asked.

  Fiona caught the tray, filled with full tankards smelling like apples, before it hit the floor.

  “Thank you. Me arms be tired. I have been setting up tables and serving ale and cider all day.”

  “This be cider? I smell apples and something else.”

  “Aye, Mistress MacFingan simmers the juice of pressed apples with cinnamon and other spices. ‘Tis her secret recipe. I be Unna. I have not seen you before.” She lifted another tray of tankards, albeit a smaller grouping.

  “I be Fiona. Where would you like this tray?”

  Unna pointed to the front door, and Fiona could do nothing but follow. Unna pushed her way through the laughing men, and Fiona lowered her gaze to the floor, trying not to drop her tray of tankards.

  When someone pinched her rear, she started. Some of the spiced cider sloshed over the sides, but she stilled her hands, and ignored the human.

  She passed through the door and onto the porch. Flames flickered from torches set overhead, and tables were full to overflowing with edible treats. Some platters held roasted venison, and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

  She was a vegetarian, and would ask for a tankard of cider, if Unna be willing. Pies and roasted root vegetables made her stomach growl, and Unna laughed.

  “Take a pie, or a tankard. If you wish to help for the rest of the night, I be sure I can get Black MacFingan to pay you well. He be worried for his wife. She was taken ill.”

  “I be sorry to hear that. I would appreciate a chance to earn me way. Maybe you might help me in another way?”

  Unna pointed to the corner of the table on the porch, where another young lass was selling food. Fiona smiled at her, and glanced at the human male she was waiting on. He was staring at Fiona’s chest!

  Turning away, she waited for Unna to deliver her tray.

  “I shall instruct you in your duties, but what do you need to know?”

  Fiona hesitated, and waited until the man moved away. “I be looking for a friend. She looks like me, and goes by Cliona. She spoke of this town and its people, and I assumed she traveled here to join in the festivities. I wish to ensure she arrived unscathed.”

  “Cliona? Aye, I heard tell of a lass by that name. She spent most of her time in the cook’s gardens, but I paid her no mind. Me employer, or his wife, might know her.”

  The gardens? Cliona loved to eat grass and leaves as much as she did, but not while in human form. Still, Unna had given her somewhere to start.

  “Me employer be far too busy to talk with you this night, and until his wife be well, he shall have no time for idle chatter. I suggest we work and enjoy the celebration.”

  “We can have a little fun?” Fiona smiled, hoping she could enjoy herself, before she was forced to give up her quest and return home. At least she did not have to worry about Grady, the leader of their herd. He detested humans. As long as she remained in the village in human form, he would not bother her.

  Dougal, on the other hand, could be lurking around the next corner. She shivered at the thought of him kissing her again. Had his eyes actually burned like flames? Would he harm her if their paths crossed again? Maybe she ought to disguise herself, somehow.

  “Unna, might I borrow an apron like yours, and could you braid me hair?” She worried he would remember her dress pattern and her loose hair.

  “Of course. Follow me.” Unna returned to the tavern and barreled through the patrons with enough force to shove several men into the tables. Tankards spilled, but laughter reined over the crowd. Men followed Fiona with their eyes, but no one touched her, this time.

  Unna pushed through a door beside the counter. Her employer, a bear of a man with a bulbous nose, and black hair streaked with gray, lifted his eyebrows as they passed. Fiona smiled, then hurried after Unna. In the kitchens, several older human women slaved over steaming pots, while others formed cakes of dough.

  “Yum! Shortbread,” Unna said.

  The older female cackled, and waved Unna away. “Later, lass. Me needs to bake these.”

  “Save me a big wedge. Oh, this be Fiona. She be helping me, this night. Fiona, sit here.”

  Fiona sat, and Unna braided her hair. When she’d finished, Unna passed her a food-splattered apron, and plopped a white linen cap on her head.

  “Me thanks.”

  Unna headed to a table covered with meat pies. “We need to get these and that tray of cider to the elders’ tent.”

  “The what?”

  Unna lifted the pies and placed them on trays. Steam wafted up, and one of the cooks ladled brown sauce over each one. Another finished filling tankards from a huge pottery pitcher.

  “Silly,” Unna said, “the Council of Elders run the village and surrounding farms. They have erected a tent on the far side of the square, and we get to serve them all night.”

  “All night?” She wanted to have some fun, not wait on humans until dawn.

  “Never fear. If we be good, they shall reward us.” Unna wiggled her eyebrows.

  Fiona had a sudden suspicion that Unna’s idea of a reward and her own were quite different.

  Unna walked out into the dining hall, swishing her hips, and laughed at something a villager whispered in her ear. She continued through the door, and onto the porch, while Fiona hurried behind.

  After Unna had a small discussion with the young server, she headed across the square, past the large fire. “The bonfire be huge. Orin did a wonderful job.”

  “I know Orin. I watched him build it.”

  Unna’s steps faltered, but she continued toward a large tent. Had Fiona hit a sore spot by mentioning the lad? When she balanced the tray on one shoulder, Fiona matched her movements.

  They paused at the tent’s entrance while a guard announced them. Fiona glanced around at the people in the square, while hiding her face behind the tankards. She did not see anyone that looked like Cliona, nor could she see Orin or Dougal. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she held.

  “Follow me, Fiona,” Unna demanded, disappearing through the tent flap.

  Fiona entered the tent, and the guard let the flap close behind them. Torches places around the room cast an eerie glow on the faces of several older human males. They sat at a long table, pausing their hushed conversation at Unna and Fiona’s approach.

  “A good evening to you, me lords,” Unna said, as she set her tray down, and placed meat pies in front of each man. Their hair ranged from short-clipped to long flowing locks, but all had gone gray. Some had beards, but a few were clean-shaven like most of the village’s younger males
. Cliona had told her about beards and hairy chests, and though Fiona lived as a fur-coated deer, she found she preferred a nearly bare chest and a square, beardless jaw, like Dougal’s.

  “Me lords, this be Fiona. She be new, and wishes to please,” Unna said, laughing. She winked at Fiona.

  Fiona wasn’t sure what to think about that. Unna’s words made it sound like Fiona was on the menu!

  “Anyone in need of a refill?” she said, pointing to Fiona’s laden tray.

  An elder raised a hand. When Fiona set one of the tankards in front of him, he lowered his hand to her rear end and squeezed. Fiona shrieked.

  “Remove your hand, me lord, or I shall bite it off.” Anger shot through Fiona. Had she not sworn that if another human male touched her, she would lash out, as she did with Dougal? However, she feared these men were important villagers. She did not wish them to throw her out of the village before she found her friend.

  “The lass asked you nicely,” one of the other elders ordered.

  The man dropped his hand, and ate his food, while Fiona walked over to the other elder who had spoke up for her. She whispered, “I thank you, me lord.”

  She placed a tankard next to his meat pie. Unna, whispering on the far side of the tent, must not have witnessed her troubles.

  “I be Elder Notal Kinnon. Fear me not. A pretty lass should be dancing tonight, not be groped by a man old enough to be your grandfather. We need to appease the spirits and fairies, and beautiful dancing lasses will do the trick. You also should sleep, to dream about tomorrow morning’s festivities.”

  She liked the human immediately and honored him with a smile and a short curtsy. “What will tomorrow bring?”

  “There shall be storytelling, prayers, contests of strength and agility, and the blessing of the beasts. After such a long, hard winter, our livestock has dwindled. We want successful breeding. Don’t forget the feasts.”

  A feast sounded great. The elder was what Unna described as one of the village’s leaders. Perhaps he knew Cliona.