Smolder (Clan of Dragons Book 3)

by Nancy Lee Badger

  “More pirates?” Vika asked, and began to strain. Catching her breath a moment later, she gazed up at Fiona. “I want to kill each, and every one of them, but only after I push out this dragon!”

  Toal’s face turned as white as melting snow. Alerted to Vika’s predicament, he stamped both feet on the ground, and leapt from his chair. When Vika screamed bloody murder, he headed for the chamber door.

  “Be you leaving us?” Fiona cried.

  He bowed his head as he gripped the door handle, but he didn’t turn to face her. “Lass, this be a female’s area of expertise and, I fear, one for dragons. I cannot be a part of such vile creatures.”

  “Then, will you kindly find one for me?” Fiona asked.

  Vika burst out laughing, but Toal glared at Fiona.

  “What I meant, was, will you fetch Evan, or Mistress MacFingan, the healer?”

  He nodded, and passed her his sword.

  She flinched beneath the weight of the weapon. “Will you not need this?”

  His smile was sinister, but his character was no longer suspect. When he pulled a dirk from a sheath at his side, she nodded. He would succeed, which was a very good thing.

  The door thudded closed behind him, leaving Fiona alone with Vika. She bolted the door, and returned to Vika’s side, but her expression must have revealed her distress.

  “That weapon looks a little unwieldy. You should set it down, Fiona, before it brings you down with it.”

  Fiona set the point into the plank floor beside the bed, and rested it against the back of the chair. It was safe, but she could grab it if their lives were threatened.

  I hope the need shall not arise.

  Vika thrashed on the bed, and her groans deepened, reminding Fiona more of a dragon than a human, especially when her fingernails lengthened. They resembled short, white talons, and she shredded the linens. Knowing Vika’s mate was a dragon, and their babe was a mix of the two species, Vika’s growls and the appearance of talons wasn’t unusual, not to a shape-shifter.

  Mistress MacFingan might take issue, however. The shock might send her back into her sickbed.

  Fiona walked back to the door, and listened. She no longer heard the sounds of battle, which was either a good thing, or a harbinger of things to come. Pirates might have slaughtered everyone. What if they were sneaking up the stairs, set on killing her and Vika? The only way to know was to open the door.

  Better to do it with the sword in me hands.

  Fiona grasped the hilt of the sword, and pulled. The weapon wouldn’t budge.

  “Fairy wings!” How was she to protect them, if the only weapon in the room was stuck point-first in the floor?

  Another scream sent Fiona flying to Vika’s side. Any chance of hiding their presence was gone. “You scream loud enough to wake the dead.”

  “Or bring a dragon out of the sky. Where be Evan?”

  “Be you in great pain?”

  “Do not try to change the subject.” Vika growled and arched her back. When she spread her legs, and raised her knees, Fiona grew concerned. The babe was coming, they were alone, and something large and insistent pounded on the door.

  CHAPTER 21

  The door wouldn’t budge, but Fiona and Vika should be on the other side. A noise made Dougal turn toward the staircase. Several pirates had followed him to the landing. His fear for Fiona’s wellbeing drove him to roar at the sword-wielding marauders. His nostrils flared, inhaling their salt-crusted scent, as well as Fiona’s heavenly fragrance. She was definitely behind Vika’s chamber door, but he needed to deal with the pirates first.

  Fangs lengthened, nicking his bottom lip. Fingers on the hand not holding his sword morphed into sharp, curling talons, and the urge to slice them across the chests of the advancing men made his blood boil.

  Why hide his true nature? The pirates knew dragons existed. Hadn’t dragons burned their ship, and thwarted their attempt to capture Vika and Kera?

  They will not have Fiona!

  Raising his talons, and his sword, he flew at the men. Flailing weapons and horrified shrieks were no match for his swift attack. The attackers tumbled down the staircase, landing in an unruly bunch at the bottom. Dougal followed, and as his fangs bit into one man’s shoulder, the others struggled to escape. Tasting blood, he spotted Toal in the dining area, stabbing a pirate with a dirk, leaving Dougal wondering why he’d parted from Fiona.

  He worried about the pretty doe-eyed female, even as blood splattered on the floorboards. One escaping pirate tried to stick his blade in Wynn’s back, and a well-placed punch from Toal sent the renegade flying head first over a table. Wynn never saw his savior. Toal was lucky, because his brother might have bitten off his head.

  Dougal opened his jaws, and released the man bleeding beneath him. As the pirate stared up in horror, Dougal jumped to his feet. The pirate on the floor slapped a hand to his bleeding shoulder. When he rolled over, struggled to his feet, and sped through the melee, Dougal allowed him to go. The coppery taste of the human’s blood still coated his tongue. He slowly wiped the blood from his chin, and growled.

  He rarely ate human flesh. Years ago, when fishing far out to sea, he spied two male humans clinging to an overturned vessel. Keeping his distance, he watched as a huge shark pulled one beneath the waves. The other screamed and screamed. Dougal put him out of his misery by killing him with his talons quickly, before eating him. It was merciful, since the toothy fish ate his companion alive.

  Toal suddenly stood beside him, watching the pirate slip through the crowd. “I would chase after him, but I gave me sword to Fiona.”

  A wave of jealous anger flew through Dougal, and he grasped Toal by the neck. Fortunately, for Toal, Dougal had retracted his talons. Instead, his fangs lengthened, and he opened his mouth to threaten the bastard-turned-rival.

  “Put away those fangs, dragon, before a villager sees them.” Toal coughed, trying to take a deep breath.

  “I do not care, at this moment in time.”

  “I see no reason to take your anger out on me. The lass be fine, and she sent me to search for the healer. The babe be coming.”

  Dougal dropped him, and Toal coughed. Dougal handed him his own sword, borrowed from Evan. “Take this, and try the room over there.”

  As Toal headed to the owner’s rooms, Dougal spied Evan slicing a curved blade through a pirate. He must have taken it from a dead one. When blood sprayed across Unna’s braid, a warrior ripped off her apron and wiped the gore away. She smiled up at the dark-haired lad, and slammed a metal tray on another pirate’s head. Very few pirates were still on their feet, and only a couple of the villagers sported wounds. The few females atop the tables, the ones that hadn’t fled to the tavern owner’s chamber, appeared hale. They acted like warriors, helping the males of their species.

  He got Evan’s attention, and his brother worked his way to Dougal’s side. “What be on your mind, Dougal? Your human eyebrows be pointed at the ceiling, and a drop of blood be dripping down your neck.”

  “Toal be fighting with us.”

  Evan nodded. “I noticed. ‘Tis a mystery. Acceptable, under the circumstances.”

  “Toal was just upstairs with your mate.”

  Evan’s eyebrows rose and he roared at what Dougal had just said. The fighting stopped, and everyone starred at the brothers. Evan glared at the few remaining pirates, and the seamen fled out both the front and rear doors. As the villagers cheered, Evan’s rage at the attackers turned to abject fear.

  Dougal could only watch as his youngest brother raced up the stairs. The healer bustled past him, and followed Evan up to the second floor. Toal had returned to his side, and helping pick up the strewn tables and chairs. Dougal finished with a few scattered tankards. When he straightened, Toal was leering at something over Dougal’s shoulder.

  ***

  On a quest to find Isobel, now that Evan and the healer had made an appearance, Fiona realized she no longer had her own personal quest to fulfill. She’d finally come
to grips with Cliona’s death, and ought to head north, leaving all the humans behind.

  Too much had happened during these last few days. She couldn’t leave just yet. Vika’s bairn was a miracle, with a dragon-shifter for a sire. How could she miss the babe’s birth? Most importantly, the necklace the pirate wanted needed to be returned to Isobel, if she could find her. That was something she vowed to make right, before she left.

  Dougal had made love to her, but called out Cliona’s name, which was thoughtless and unkind. He’d collected the healing water, a noble mission, and she prayed the magical water worked to ease Vika’s delivery. She was relieved both the healer and Evan had taken over Vika’s care. During the melee, and her flight outside the tavern with Toal, there was one person she still hadn’t seen.

  Isobel.

  A familiar anger-filled voice had Fiona racing down the staircase. At the bottom, she hurried into the dining hall, where Isobel stood beside Dougal and Toal. The men’s chests heaved from exertion, and the blood-splattered room told the tale.

  “Isobel!”

  The lass turned, and frowned at Fiona.

  “She does not seem to want to see you, love,” Dougal said.

  “I want her,” Toal mumbled, but Fiona heard.

  The man was incorrigible. She doubted Isobel wanted anything to do with the likes of him. What did she want? Why did she look so angry? Was she still searching for the pirate with the white headscarf? Did she continue tempting fate, because the brigand took something of hers?

  Fiona ignored both men. “I wish to speak to you, Isobel. You and I have unfinished business.”

  Dougal stepped beside her. When his fingers touched her elbow, she shoved him away and walked closer to Isobel.

  “Lass?” he asked.

  Without glancing at him, she said, “Vika be progressing. I fear ‘tis no more I can do for her. Since you men made such a mess of Blackie’s tavern, I suggest you leave.”

  “Fiona, you do not mean that? We have more we must share.”

  “Dougal, we have nothing more to say to one another. Be gone.” Fiona stamped her foot, and felt more than foolish, yet she refused to look at him.

  Toal chuckled. “Me thinks you treated the wench with disrespect. You head upstairs. I shall assist the ladies.”

  “Toal! Leave us!” Fiona, Dougal, and Isobel shouted.

  Toal smirked, and left the room.

  “Where be we going?” Dougal asked, but Fiona was too busy following Isobel to answer.

  “We should not leave the safety of the village square.” Dougal growled under his breath, but Isobel kept going.

  She led them past the bonfire, its flames shooting into the night sky. Embers flitted on a slight breeze, and Fiona’s eyes followed one as it landed in Dougal’s hair. She paused to brush it away, and met his gaze. His blue eyes had gone dark, reflecting the flames at her back. “Dougal, we should keep going, or the lass might disappear again.”

  He nodded.

  Fiona wanted to smile at him, but their time was over. She would never allow him to touch her, kiss her, or make love to her, again. Turning away, she quickened her pace, and tripped over a root. Before she could gain her balance, she slammed her burned hand against the fence. “Ouch!”

  Isobel strode toward her, her fists at her sides. “Keep your voice down, or I shall leave you in me dust.”

  “Isobel, you might think you can, but I be swift on me feet. At least, when I be not wearing this silly dress.”

  “That be a good color on you, but what happened to the other dress?”

  “A pirate ripped it. The healer was kind enough to replace it with this.”

  Isobel’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about how you came by the dress you wore earlier.”

  Fiona’s cheeks warmed. She’d stolen the clothing from Isobel’s cottage. “I found it.”

  “Liar. I know you took it. I saw you.”

  Dougal whispered, “Isobel, I do not know what you think you saw, but…”

  Isobel stood in the shadows along the fence, and a smidgen of moonlight turned her blue eyes silver. She turned her attention to Dougal. “A white doe grabbed the dress, and I sense you be familiar with this creature.”

  “Why would you say this?” Dougal asked.

  “Isobel, be you…one of us?” Fiona whispered.

  Isobel exhaled a long, slow breath, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Fiona.

  Ever since she had burned her hand, Fiona’s senses felt scrambled, but she assumed there was something special about Isobel. If only she could get through her anger.

  Dougal leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Tell her, Fiona.”

  Guilt made Fiona’s gut churn, but she directed her words at Isobel. “Aye, I took the dress.”

  Isobel sighed. If she was angry or surprised, Fiona had no time to decipher which emotion made her lash out at the night sky. Isobel turned on her heel, and raced along the fence.

  “Lass, why be you following her? She be acting strange, with too much on her mind. Pirates roam the village. We should return to the tavern, where I can keep you safe,” Dougal whispered.

  “Me? Why be you worried about me?”

  Dougal’s eyes widened, and he stepped close enough for the smell of leather, wool, and his personal scent to wash over her.

  When her tongue slipped out to moisten her dry lips, he growled, and moved closer. Fiona slapped a hand against his chest, and cried out.

  “Please do not injure yourself, love.” He curled his fingers around her bandaged hand, bent down, and kissed her knuckles.

  Fiona gulped, until she recalled what he’d done. He missed Cliona. He’d shouted her name, not Fiona’s. He was a dragon in search of a dragon-mate, and she was nothing but a distraction.

  Pulling her hand free, she raced into the darkness, and caught up to Isobel. “Where be you headed?”

  “Fiona, you should stay with Dougal. He wants you, I suspect.”

  Fiona chortled. “I refuse to only warm his bed,” which was silly to admit, since they’d never made it to a bed.

  “I be looking for the pirate with the white headscarf.”

  “The one that attacked me in Gow’s shop? Do you carry a weapon?”

  “Nay, do you? Antlers, perhaps?”

  Isobel was mocking her? Pausing in the shadows, Fiona pulled the knife from her apron’s pocket. When she glanced back, Isobel was on the ground beneath a huge man, who smelled of fish.

  Thinking only to help her friend, Fiona plunged the kitchen knife into the man’s back. Instead of piercing his flesh, it hit the wide leather belt holding his curved blade. Pain radiated up her arm, and she nearly dropped the knife. Before she could bring her arm down once more, a meaty fist grabbed her wrist.

  The knife tumbled to the earth.

  CHAPTER 22

  The earth trembled beneath Dougal’s feet as he raced toward the stables. His gut told him to follow Fiona and Isobel, but Fiona’s reaction to his touch disturbed him. What had he done to make her go from satisfied bed partner, to a cold wall of stone? Then, Fiona had called to Isobel, before following her out into the dark night.

  He tried to stop them, to keep Fiona safe from the sea-faring brigands. Evan was with his mate, and he prayed Toal kept out of trouble. The bastard had helped, saving his life, guarding Vika and Fiona, and collecting Evan and the healer for Vika.

  Fiona was his main concern. If she wouldn’t listen to him, and walked into danger, he would shift and search her out. His dragon eyesight could easily peer through the darkness, enabling him to watch over her from a distance, much better than as a stag. Following the lass and her otherworldly companion from the air seemed the best method.

  He reached the huge stable, behind the tavern, and climbed on top of some barrels. Grabbing the edge of the roof, he crawled to the peak. Shouts echoed in the west, where the tavern owner and villagers worked to fashion a blockade to close the hole in the
fence, and from the east, a female screamed.

  Fiona!

  Tossing his clothes onto the roof, he called for the shift. The transformation came on him in a flash of white light and the cracking of bones. For the first time, he prayed for the shift to end quickly. Fiona needed help!

  As his human feet morphed into talons, and his arms became wings, he lost his footing. He roared his anger as he reached out to grip the roof shingles, taking half of them with him as he slammed onto the ground. His tail hit a barrel, flipping it into the air. It fell on his head with a splat.

  With water up his nose, and the breath knocked out of him, he sputtered and choked. He lay dazed, until he rolled to his side. Shaking the stars from his eyes, water dripped down his muzzle. As it puddled around him, he stumbled to his feet.

  Another scream had him taking to the sky. Before he could reach her side, Orin led a crowd of young human males into the square.

  Should I allow Orin to protect her?

  The appearance of a dragon within the walls would scare too many villagers, so he landed on the other side of the fence. He called to him through a hole in the wall. “Orin!”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Dougal.”

  “Why be you outside the fence?”

  “Never mind. Did you hear a scream? I fear Fiona be in trouble. Can you help her until I…change?”

  “Ahh…I understand. I shall.” Orin’s footsteps headed toward the group of young lads. “Follow me, friends!”

  Dougal lifted his horned head above the fence, his gaze following the red-haired lad as he regrouped with his friends. The others with him carried farm implements. Some had already earned nasty cuts, and blood covered a few heads.

  They raced off in the direction of Fiona’s scream, giving Dougal time to shift into his human form. Jumping over the fence, he went in search of the clothing he’d left on the roof. He found them in a puddle of water, on the ground beside the stable. They must have fallen when he’d tumbled off the roof.