He pressed his aching groin against her belly, and cupped her chin. “I want to kiss you.”
She smiled, and pleasure washed over him. “I want to kiss you, as well, but weren’t you leaving?”
“Aye. Vika needs the healing water of the fairy pool. I must shift and fly, but I cannot let you go.”
“Can you fly like the wind?”
He nodded, wondering why she asked. “Aye, and I shall return in the wink of an eye.”
“If that be the case, can you not spare a moment to kiss me…and more?” Fiona’s hands surprised him by reaching beneath his plaide, grazing his erection, and cupping his ball sac. At first tentative and shy, her exploration turned bold. She squeezed his swollen length, and stroked him. With his cock in her possession, he kissed her.
Pleasure slowly turned into a painful ache, a need for release, but not until he thrust deep inside her wet folds. “I want you, love,” he gasped, surprised at his voice’s breathiness, and the sense of urgency to complete the joining.
Releasing her chin, his thumb teased her nipple before sliding into the curls between her legs. She was damp, and the heat and scent of her welcomed him. Feeling bold, he slipped a finger inside her. Rewarded by her gasp, he added another finger.
“You be ready for me, love. Do not push me away. Please?” Begging, kneeling, making love as if he’d die, if he didn’t thrust inside her, was such an odd sensation. No, it was pleasant, but his mission lingered.
“I fear this shall end much too soon, love.” He lifted her, pressing her against the chamber wall. She lifted her long, silky legs, and tightened them around his hips. With her buttocks cupped in one hand, he pulled up his plaide to free his cock. When the pulsing tip found her hot entrance, he plunged inside her slick channel with one satisfying thrust.
Silencing her gasp with his mouth, his hips moved with an ingrained fury toward a gratifying goal. Her grunts and trembling arms let his lust-crazed mind know she would erupt in moments. A moan arose from the depths of her luscious mouth, while her hips met every thrust with a rhythm older than time. When he had filled and stretched her, over and over, he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue mimic his cock, as he neared his own release.
Perspiration ran down his back in rivulets, and his knees nearly buckled. When she screamed against his mouth, and her inner muscles milked him, he pulled his mouth free and roared. With words even he couldn’t comprehend, he lost himself in the euphoria of a climax that stunned him all the way to his toes. Slamming a palm against the wall kept him from falling into a puddle at her feet.
When his satisfied cock slipped from her body, Fiona slid her legs to the floor. He protested every move, but he needed to catch his breath and leave. He straightened his plaide, ran shaking fingers through his unruly human hair, and nipped her on the tip of her nose.
With her flushed cheeks, and the way her breasts rose and fell from their exertion, she was beautiful. Her eyelids closed along with her swollen lips. He could not read her emotions, but there was nothing more he could do, or say. Others needed his help, and losing himself inside a beautiful shifter was not enough.
I be such a liar.
***
Dougal be such a liar! As Fiona’s heartbeat slowed to normal, she wanted to yell, scream, or slap Dougal’s insensitive mouth. How dare he call her love one moment, yet cry the name of his former lover the next. Before she could open her mouth and berate him for his insensitivity, he slipped into the hall.
He left me?
Grumbling Gaelic curses she’d learned in the tavern, she wrapped the damp cloth around her. A knock on her door made her open it to the smiling healer.
“I found you some clean clothes, and a new apron. Fiona, your cheeks look a bit flushed, dear one. Be you well?”
“I be fine. Thank you.”
“Things be a bit quieter downstairs.” She winked, and closed the door.
Fiona dressed in the new dark blue dress, slipped the apron on, plaited her damp hair, and left the borrowed chamber. There was no noise, or voices, from the other bedchambers, so she hurried down the stairs. She prayed Gow was healing, and Vika was resting.
The healer met her at the bottom of the stairway. “That dress suits you. How was your bath?”
Fiona’s cheeks heated She could not meet the woman’s eyes, but a response was required. “I needed to clean meself up. The smoke, it…” She coughed, and hurried into the dining hall. Passing the counter, she hurried into the kitchen, where the cooks were busy baking meat pies, slicing crusty oatmeal bannock, and stirring rabbit stew. The delicious smells caused her stomach to rumble, and she set her bandaged hand on her disagreeably loud abdomen.
“Och, the lass has an appetite. After all that smoke, you need a swig of cider, or maybe the master’s whiskey?” the older of the two female humans said.
Fiona smiled. “Cider might help. I fear I still smell of smoke. I cleaned the best I could.”
“Aye, a bath be a rare treat during this festival. We be up to our necks with villagers wanting to celebrate, or reminisce about fighting the fire at the blacksmith shop, or even planning a response to a pirate attack.”
“Have others seen pirates? I only saw the one, but he was armed with a lethal looking weapon. If he could slip inside the village, will there be others?”
The cooks shivered, and returned to their tasks, while Fiona continued her search for Unna. Opening the kitchen’s rear door, she gazed out into the dark alley beyond the tavern. The large stables loomed to the right, and the village fence farther back, to the left. Shadows moved in that direction, as if someone lurked.
“Who goes there?”
The shadow broke into two bodies, and she was shocked to recognize Unna. “Unna! What be you doing out here, and who be you with?”
“Never you mind, Fiona. ‘Tis a man who knows how to please a lass.” She marched passed Fiona, into the kitchen.
The healer had warned her to keep an eye on Unna. Fiona suspected she shared her kisses too frequently. She closed the kitchen door, shutting out the night, while Unna slipped on an apron. Getting down to work would clear her head and calm her racing heart. Loving Dougal was not what she wanted, or needed. Her chest still ached, because he had called out Cliona’s name in the midst of passion, not hers.
The cooks placed meat pies on several trays, and Fiona led the way into the tavern’s dining hall. The room had filled with men brandishing weapons; everything from pitchforks to swords to pikes. Soot covered the faces of several.
As Fiona distributed the food and collected their coins, she listened. Some talked about the fire, while others warned about an attack. An elder, the one who called himself Notal Kinnon, entered, and the room grew quiet.
She sought out Unna by the counter, where Blackie was serving tankards of ale and drams of whisky. He watched the proceedings from the corner closest to the villagers, away from where she and Unna paused. Fiona slipped the coins into his coin box. She wanted to talk to Unna, but she needed to hear what the old man had to say. Orin told her his word was law in the village.
A prickle along the back of her neck preceded Dougal’s arrival. He walked slowly down the staircase, his dragon eyes roaming the room for threats. She thought he had left the village, but must have been talking in someone’s bedchamber. When his fist went to the sword hanging at his side, Fiona gasped.
He knows we be in danger.
“Your man does not look happy,” Unna said.
“He be not mine. ‘Tis merely someone I met, when I entered the village. He cares for his kin, not a stranger like me.”
“So you say, but Orin told me how he rarely leaves your side.”
“Unna, Orin ought not to share such tales.”
“Orin never mentioned any specifics but, come to think of it, you disappeared twice today. So did he.”
“Orin?”
Unna laughed. “Nay. The warrior talking to MacFingan.”
“Who were you kissing in the shadows?”
Unna said nothing, and scanned the room as if searching for the stranger in question. “He be a very good kisser, and I see no harm in tasting what be offered, but he smelled a bit too much like fish.”
Pirate!
She ought to tell Dougal, but he walked out the back door carrying several empty wineskins. Was he heading to the fairy pool to gather the healing water?
What he does be no concern of mine.
She turned back to Unna. “Do not go too far from the tavern. This man who kissed you, he will want more, and then will leave you without a look back.”
“Hmm. I suppose you speak the truth, but he be very handsome, and I be lonely.” She twirled a strand of her long dark hair, a section that had come loose from her braid. When the elder cleared his throat, Fiona turned her attention away from the server. She wanted to hear what he had to say.
“I had hoped to celebrate the coming of spring with a happy festival, good food, excellent drink, and dances with young lasses. I have news, but it will not cheer you.”
The men in the group chuckled, and glanced at the female villagers who had entered the tavern. Fiona watched everyone’s jovial reaction, fearing they did not understand how serious the situation could become.
She’d felt the pirate’s wrath. She knew he’d stop at nothing, until he got the necklace. Unfortunately for him, the necklace was something she didn’t wish to return. She ought to give it to Isobel, so she could force the pirate to return whatever it was he stole from her. Keeping it safe was a priority, and until Fiona was convinced the pretty female didn’t plan to seek out the pirate on her own, it would stay safely tucked away in Fiona’s bodice.
Which brought up another question. Where was Isobel? Had she accompanied Dougal? Nay, he would be smart to shift and fly like a dragon to the fairy pool. Wasting time was not an option, not if he was to help Vika.
CHAPTER 19
Helping Vika was the only reason Dougal turned his back on Fiona, left the tavern, and walked until he reached the wall of timber. Once in its shadow, he jumped over the wall, and quickly undressed. With the empty wineskins at his feet, he shifted. Brilliant light and pleasurable tremors shot thought muscle, sinew, and bone until his dragon wings opened behind him. With a mighty snap, he flew into the night sky.
The euphoria usually associated with the shift was nothing compared to the taste that lingered on his tongue, and the desire he still carried for the little doe, but heading to the fairy pool made sense. Keeping his distance, until he understood why he harbored such strong feelings for her, was the best option, and the only way to secure his heart, until he could find a suitable mate.
With the wineskins clutched in his talons, he flew high above the clouds. The breeze tickled his horns, and smelled a little too much of the sea. He didn’t spy any pirates roaming the forest, so he concentrated on his mission.
“Gather the magical water, and get it to the healer.”
Vika needed the water’s healing powers, and he would do anything to make her birthing end successfully. The healer seemed at ease with their origins, and would help bring the next generation into the world. He sensed the bairn was a dragon-shifter, but he could not envision Vika’s future. If she died, Evan would be devastated. Dougal knew such feelings from personal experience, and would not wish it on anyone.
At the edge of the fairy pool, he landed with a soft thump, and shifted. Filling and setting a stopper in the wineskins was easier with human fingers to do the work. When finished, he smelled salt and unwashed bodies, but he did not have the time to investigate. If pirates were here, then they were far from the village.
Shifting, he leapt into the sky with his precious cargo, and headed back to Morbhan.
***
In the village, Fiona worried about the pirates. And Dougal. Why should she care? He used her, then nipped her on the nose like a beast, after leaving her well-pleasured. She stood on tiptoes, and scanned the dining area, looking for him. She was still angry at the beast, but she was worried he’d met up with pirates, though he was probably far from here, by now. The elder droned on, and she wished he’d hurry, and return to the council of elders’ tent. Besides warning the villagers to keep vigilant, he told them he’d ordered the bonfire lit, and pleaded with the villagers to celebrate, but to keep their heads clear.
“I will make sure no one gets too deep in their cups, even though I shall regret the loss of the coin,” Blackie promised. His words caused more than one human male to groan.
She slipped between patrons, and was surprised to bump into Dougal. He did not turn to look at her, but she knew he would listen.
“Isobel be gone,” she whispered, low enough for only him to hear, “The pirate who chased me has a special interest in the lass, and I fear she seeks him out. I also saw Unna with a stranger, kissing in the dark. I could not see his face, but she admits he smells of the sea.”
Dougal turned and glanced down at her, his eyes turning from deep blue to smoldering embers. Fiona’s mouth went dry and her un-bandaged palm grew clammy, until she recalled the words he had roared during his release. She pushed aside any sexual feelings trying to surface. They needed to discuss other urgent matters, not his continued love for his murdered mate.
“I shall search for Isobel, if doing so shall make you happy, love.”
His response made her pause. His voice was low, and smooth. His partial smile reminded her of the gentle way he’d gazed at her, just before he kissed her senseless in the borrowed bedchamber. Her body softened, and she grew wet and needy between her thighs. Had he said he would search for a missing woman simply because she asked it of him?
“You be a warrior, and here to guard your family. I cannot ask you to hunt for a lass who ought to know better than to run off into the night. If Unna was kissing a pirate, right behind the tavern, ‘tis best to have you here.”
He slipped his large hand around her uninjured one, and gently squeezed. “I shall take care of both concerns for you.”
She blinked, and he was gone.
The elder talked louder, and Fiona did her best to follow what he was discussing. Talk of warriors, armaments, torches, and where to place any prisoners was not going to protect Isobel, wherever she’d run.
When Unna caught her eye, Fiona returned to the kitchen. As one of the cooks filled bowls with stew, and set them on a tray, Fiona slipped a long carving knife from the cutting board into the pocket of her apron.
I shall not be caught without a weapon, again.
With their trays loaded, she followed Unna into the dining area. Handing out bowls and collecting coins, while keeping their voices hushed, was slow and tedious. As she worked, she listened. Many of the villagers responded with cries of “Kill them,” and “Not in our village!” Fiona wished to voice her agreement, but a loud crash at the rear of the tavern, near the door just beyond the staircase, drew everyone’s attention.
As men charged into the dining area brandishing weapons, women screamed. Fiona dropped her tray on the nearest table, and raced to the kitchen. The villagers, and Dougal, would beat back the attackers, but there was another door, one not protected by anyone, except a couple of old cooks.
When she entered the kitchen, several pirates turned her way. Two had just locked the cooks in a storeroom, if the curses flying back and forth through the door were any indication.
The other pirate, a man she recognized from the burning building, advanced toward her. His white headscarf was soot-covered, and the leer was back. She could turn and escape, but she wanted to know exactly what they wanted, first. If it was only the trinket she’d shoved in her bodice, she planned to fight him for it. If he came too close, she would pull out her hidden knife.
“We meet again, lass. Shall we take up where we left off? You took something of mine.” He sneered, and stepped closer.
She stepped back. “Me friend claims the item belongs to her, at least until you return what you stole from her.”
He scowled, and glanced at his
other men. They quieted, though the curses coming from the other side of the door continued. The cooks were safer in the storage room.
“You had best hope they do not escape. They wield a knife as well as a warrior, as do I.” She slipped the knife from her apron’s pocket, and held it upright, close to her chest. She had no wish to drop it, or accidently plunge it into a human’s chest.
Not yet.
“What do you mean to do with that, love? I would hate for you to accidently nick those fine breasts.”
“Keep your gaze a bit higher, scoundrel. You be not welcome here, so turn around and leave before you die.”
“By your hand?” The pirate laughed, and the others joined in.
“Nay, friend. By mine.”
Fiona gasped at Dougal’s sudden appearance beside her, and her heart did a tiny lurch. Brandishing his sword, he crouched beside her, as if readying an attack. Stepping a bit behind him, Fiona cast her attention to the pirates. Their mouths had dropped, and the two near the storeroom inched toward the kitchen door.
“I believe you surprised these bastards, me lord.”
Dougal chuckled, and rose to his full height. “Get out. You’re not welcome, here.”
His voice was the same low, soft voice he’d used in the bedchamber, and Fiona took a long, deep breath. They were confronting a life and death situation, giving her no time to reminisce about the most pleasurable coupling she’d ever experienced. When she worried he included her in the order to get out, she touched his arm.
“Love, ‘tis best you return to the dining area. The villagers have the attack nearly under control.”
“I cannot leave the cooks locked in the storeroom!” she cried, stepping toward the storeroom door. Before he could reply, the pirate lunged at her. A sword, slicing through the air from behind her, stopped the downward swing of the pirate’s curved blade, before it sliced through her body.
“If you hurt the lass, ‘twill be the last thing you ever do.” Toal MacMorgan slapped the blade away with his longer, wider sword, and shoved Fiona behind him. She reached out, tugging Dougal’s arm.
Smolder (Clan of Dragons Book 3) Page 17
