Daniel regarded the couple with disfavor. “And you know this how?” He had to agree with Quinn’s assessment. Their body language was uneasy and their tone a shade too belligerent.
Quinn raised heavy black brows. “I spend one morning a week here in the summertime. You get to know how people behave.” His tone suggested he was amused by Daniel’s question.
“Could we see something of yours?” demanded Aloha Shirt.
“Those sketches you were looking at are mine,” Angie said. “They’re preliminary drawings for sculptures.”
“Oh. Then why are they framed?” the woman chipped in as if she had caught Angie in a lie.
“Gallery rule,” Angie responded briskly.
Aloha Shirt peered at the card on the wall. “You’re this Angelina Lindorm?”
“I am.”
“You going to turn these sketches into sculptures?”
“Some of them. When I am commissioned to do so.”
These days Angie hardly ever did a sculpture without a commission. Her work was in such demand that she usually had pre-sold anything she worked on. Even when she had a showing, there would be scarcely anything without a sold tag. Aloha Shirt looked baffled. His wife disgruntled.
Angie’s pleasant demeanor didn’t alter by a fraction, but somehow the couple walked out the door, arguing about where to go next. Another couple waylaid her.
“Are you Angelina Lindorm?” asked a woman with a neatly coiffed head of auburn hair. She was dressed head to toe in elegant summer whites.
“I am.”
“This is an honor,” said her husband. He looked around the big room. “I’m Charles Rutherford and this is my wife Leona.”
“How do you do?” Angie shook hands. “Are you the Rutherfords from Cat’s Head?”
“We are. We came to spend some time with Ryan and Claudia and the baby,” Leona said.
“Jocelyn is a darling!” Angie said happily.
“Thank you.” Charles hesitated. “Are you prepared to accept a commission for any of these sketches?”
“I am. I don’t have a studio on West Haven. Yet. But I’m taking orders.”
“We were wondering if you would be prepared to accept a commission for this one,” Leona said. She and her husband moved in front of a line drawing that fairly leapt off the paper. “That tree looks as if it might be alive.”
Daniel drifted behind them. Mrs. Rutherford was correct. The gnarled tree’s branches moved as if it were dancing. He stepped backward. The twisted branches became the graceful limbs of a dryad. And then returned to being a venerable oak.
“Thank you,” Angie said primly. “That’s one of my favorites too. Where did you want to install the piece?”
Unlike many artists, Angie would scale her art to fit the purchaser’s venue. Within reason. Although normally this sort of transaction was handled by her agent. Daniel lost interest in the back and forth. He returned to Quinn who was shading in his sketch of Angie.
Quinn chuckled softly. “She generally sells a couple of pieces every time she comes in here. Not necessarily her own stuff either. We get a lot of looky-loos like the pair that just left, but we also get lots of well-heeled patrons who are drawn in by rumors of genuine Lindorms. The Rutherfords are summer people. Property development. They can afford an Angelina Lindorm.”
“But her studio is in Stockholm,” Daniel objected.
“Robin’s got a crew building her one right this minute. Have you been out to the artists’ colony?”
Daniel’s blood iced. “She’s not staying on West Haven.”
“No?” Quinn returned to his sketch pad.
His pencil added a blur of gray to the edge of Angie’s breasts. Today, Daniel’s mate’s hair was confined in an elaborate braided bun, but Quinn had drawn it loose and curling around her, caressing her shoulders and the delicious line of her breasts. As if she had just risen from a heated bed, her formal sheath had morphed into a diaphanous peignoir. Daniel saw it through a red haze.
He growled. Quinn turned his head. His beard twitched with amusement.
“Why are you drawing my wife?” Daniel asked through clenched teeth.
“Beautiful woman. Great bone structure.” Quinn flipped through his pad and showed Daniel sketch after sketch. Angie’s blossoming pregnancy was documented in detail. “I’m thinking of doing a superimposition of Moira, Robin and Angie. Set in the Old Forest.” He lost interest in his explanation, erased a line and redrew it.
“You stay the hell away from my wife,” Daniel ground out.
Drake stood up. He was as tall as Daniel and as broad. His green-gold eyes level with Daniel’s. Drake’s amusement grew. “I’m a married man,” he replied. “A happily married man. I’m not your problem. I don’t know what’s wrong between you two, but dragon to dragon, jealousy won’t help.”
The Rutherfords departed in a happy murmur of mutual farewells. Angie put a tablet inside a desk drawer and rejoined the men.
“What did they buy?” asked Quinn.
“Tree study 12,” Angie said gleefully. “Well, they put a deposit down. I told them they didn’t have to – I mean if you can’t trust the Rutherfords, who can you trust? They insisted on paying for the materials. Half the remainder when I start work on the piece. The rest on completion.”
“Who are they?” demanded Daniel.
“Cougar shifters. Angie just did a deal with Cougar One,” Quinn said easily. “That would be the head of the clan. Congratulations, Angie.”
“Are they going to pay to transport it from Stockholm?” Daniel inquired in his frostiest voice.
Angie’s green eyes opened wide. Her right brow cocked. “Why would they need to?”
Quinn roared with laughter and clapped Daniel on the back. “Angie, why don’t you take Dan to the Bean for a coffee, while I hold down the fort?”
“If you’re sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure.”
CHAPTER NINE
Angie~
As soon as they were outside, Daniel growled, “What is your relationship to that fellow?”
Why was Daniel’s irrational jealousy so arousing? He knew Quinn was a mated dragon and her cousin by marriage. Angie knew it was just a symptom of his domineering personality. Not proof of his love.
Yet every cell in her body reveled in his covetousness. She coughed gently. “Quinn is also member of the artists’ co-op, and married to my cousin. He and Moira have been very kind to me.”
She led her seething husband up the street to the Bean and Bran coffee shop. Naturally the crowds on the sidewalk melted before her dragon, as if he were an icebreaker forging a passage through frozen seas. Probably no more than his arrogant demeanor.
“You better get your furnace under control,” she suggested after a glance at his face.
He snorted. Flames flickered at his nostrils and died as he re-established control of his talent.
“Here we are.” She indicated the small hole-in-the-wall cafe.
Aloha Shirt and his wife came out of the coffee shop empty-handed. “Too crowded,” they grumbled.
Angie waited until the other couple had merged with the swarm of visitors before she pushed the door open. Brass bells clanked against the glass. The Bean was the locals’ coffee shop. Gossip central. There were never any seats for tourists. Every table was full. A line had formed in front of the old-fashioned wood and glass display case. But just as they entered, two people stood up and offered them their table.
“Hi, Claudia, Ryan,” Angie said. “This is my husband, Daniel Lindorm. Claudia and Ryan Rutherford.”
“Hey, Dan.” Ryan held out his hand. “Good to know you.” He was wearing a baby carrier strapped to his chest. Dark blond hair peeped out of its bright red support. But newborn Jocelyn was fast asleep.
Daniel was obviously finding Americans’ casual shortening of his name hard to bear. But he shook hands with them both. “Thank you,” he managed.
“We were just waiting for our cue to leave,” R
yan said. “Any moment now Jocelyn is going to wake up and scream.” He laid a protective hand over his small daughter’s head.
“Glad to know you, Dan,” murmured Claudia, rummaging in a shopping bag.
“Your grandparents were in the co-op this morning,” Angie said.
“Did they decide which of your pieces they wanted?” Ryan asked. “Grandfather was very taken with one, but Grandmother was holding out for another.”
Angie only smiled. The elder Rutherfords might not care to have their expensive purchase discussed in the Bean. Ryan and Claudia gathered their diaper bag and shawl and left in a minor flurry.
“Sit down.” Daniel held Angie’s chair. “What do you want?”
“Martha knows.”
A tall, aging earth-mother in a blue and yellow tie-dyed skirt and tunic, with a long gray braid swishing down her back, brought over a steaming mug. “One herbal decaf latte,” Martha Furlong announced. “Do you want a snack with that, Ange?”
“Not today, thank you. Martha, I’d like you to meet my husband, Daniel Lindorm.”
“Hey, Dan. About time you showed up. What can I get you?”
Daniel inclined his head and accepted his new reality with just the merest tightening of his facial muscles. “Black coffee, please.” Martha moved away with graceful purpose belied by her hippie costume.
“What is this place?” he asked, in a voice pitched only for her ears.
Unfortunately, all this folksiness was stiffening Daniel’s already over-starched spine. He had been born into an aristocratic family. He held high rank in the Royal Swedish Navy. He had been used to deference from the cradle.
It was hard to imagine her husband making a life among people who wouldn’t dream of bowing and scraping. Whereas she found the easy-going informality on West Haven relaxing. She was so done with being Lady Daniel Lindorm.
She grinned at him. “This is the Bean and Bran. It serves the best coffee and brioche in town.” And piping hot gossip, fresh from the rumor mill.
Daniel’s mouth got tighter. But she saw the moment his eyes registered the proprietor standing behind the counter. Lloyd Furlong did the baking for the Bean. His usual air of abstraction didn’t fool her. Adopting the counterculture uniform of ponytail and tie-dyed T-shirt could not conceal this dragon’s watchful alertness from fairy eyes.
She knew a veteran when she saw one. All Lloyd’s years of meditation had done was neutralize his post combat trauma. He was still a protective alpha male. Like Daniel. He might be calm, but he was aware of everything happening in his coffee shop.
Daniel recognized Lloyd immediately. The two dragons exchanged nods as equals. Furlong invited Daniel to share his amusement. She wasn’t surprised when Lloyd brought Daniel’s coffee and a slice of brioche across to their table himself, instead of Martha. He was sending a not-so-subtle message to the room that he approved of Angie’s husband. A gesture she appreciated.
All around them conversation buzzed. Angie knew that the locals were assimilating the fact that her husband was in town. The news would be all over Mystic Bay in an hour. If Robin was correct, that would lift some of the worry from the townspeople, and buy her time on West Haven to persuade people she and her child were safe.
“Welcome to Mystic Bay, Admiral,” Lloyd said crisply and clearly.
Daniel rose to his feet and held out his hand. “How do you do?”
“Lloyd Furlong.” They shook. “Sergeant Major. Marines.”
“Swedish Navy,” responded Daniel.
Lloyd nodded. The dreaminess returned to his eyes. “Anybody need a refill?”
There was a chorus of yes, pleases from the surrounding tables. Martha came out with a coffee pot. Daniel and Lloyd’s moment was over. Daniel relaxed infinitesimally. He sipped his coffee and did not try to interrogate her. He listened to the buzz of conversation, as intent as if he were gathering intelligence. Which she supposed he was.
Would he understand why Mystic Bay felt like home to her? The Old Forest filled some long empty place in her heart. Robin felt like a sister. Moira like a favorite niece.
Even though it took time from her art, she enjoyed her work in the store and at the co-op. They made her feel like part of the community. Even the gossipy Bean made her happy. These days her art felt secondary to the more serious business of growing her baby and making friends.
Could she get Daniel to realize that having a family could be adventure enough even for a dragon with a taste for danger?
CHAPTER TEN
Sully~
When he brought the day’s third lot of whale watchers back to harbor, Quinn Drake was perched on a bollard like some craggy growth. His sketch pad was in his hand and he was ignoring the throng clustered around him gabbling like geese. Sully handed off the disembarkation chores to his first mate and stepped nimbly ashore.
He raised his voice to be heard over the noise. “Everyone with a ticket for the 2:15 tour line up. If you don’t have a ticket, you’re out of luck for this one. Tickets for the next cruises are available at the booth. The supper tour is fully booked.” His announcement thinned the gaping spectators around Quinn.
“Come aboard,” Sully suggested. He led the dragon to the wheelhouse. “What’s up?”
Quinn settled himself with the easy grace of the predator he was. “Moira likes Angie Lindorm.”
“And?”
Quinn looked surprised. “Moira wants her cousin to stay in Mystic Bay.”
“Angie seems to like it here,” Sully said cautiously. On the dock, Norm let the next lot of whale watchers aboard. “I have to pull out in exactly seven minutes. Either get to the point, or come back later.”
Quinn’s astonishment grew. “Moira wants Angie to stay. I want to you make sure that happens. Work on that stubborn husband of hers.”
“Bewitch him?”
“If necessary.”
“He’s a powerful sensitive, with his own full share of magic, Quinn. Even if I could successfully place him under a spell, how long do you think that would last?”
Quinn’s big shoulders rose a couple of inches. His beard moved in a manner that presaged a scowl. “We have to do something.”
“Because Moira likes having Angie around?”
“In a nutshell.”
“As it happens, so does Robin. And I kind of like Lindorm myself. He’s more than a bit stiff, but he’d be a good man to have at your back in a fight.”
“I thought so too. Madly in love with Angie. And chartreuse with jealousy.”
“Chartreuse?”
“A sort of bright mustardy-green,” Quinn said absently. “Not a good look for a dragon. Nor most folks.”
“He looked fine to me,” Sully was losing his end of the conversation.
“Must be some way to turn that jealousy to our advantage,” Quinn suggested.
Norm blew the whistle.
“Why don’t you take Angie over to Sunset Cove to sketch, while I think about it?” Sully suggested.
“Moira wouldn’t like that.”
“Take her along.”
“Huh.”
“You go ashore. I’ve got to show these folks some orcas.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Daniel~
He gave her a brisk farewell kiss on the co-op floor before he left. The kind that told other males a woman was taken. He gave Drake a pointed look, to, magnify his claim. And departed before Angie could recover from her surprise.
He still needed to talk to his wife. No reason that his spirits should lift. Probably they were going to have the same problem with privacy wherever they went. But she needed lunch, and he would make sure she ate some. He wandered down to the harbor and found inspiration.
At 1:25 when Daniel showed up at the co-op, his wife was gone. Drake had abandoned his stool. He asked the arty type with the scraggly beard and frayed jeans who now seemed to be in charge where she was.
Scraggly Beard wrenched his focus from a resplendent glass object that occupied the center of th
e room. It was worth watching. A froth of silver and green, it looked like a breaking wave topped with seafoam. And the circle of small children clustered around it seemed to agree.
“Angelina?” Scraggly Beard said vaguely. He looked around as if she might materialize. “I guess she and Quinn went to lunch.”
They had a date. Or did they? Had he nailed her down? In thirty-three years he had never had to book Angie’s time. If he was on leave, she was free. Was the little witch playing him? Or was this a taste of his future?
A brisk woman with graying hair and a businesslike air emerged from the back room. “Alfie,” she instructed patiently. “Go ask those people if they need any help.”
Alfie gazed blankly at the people milling in front of the desk, but obediently trotted over.
“I’m Beatrice Witchell,” the businesslike woman said. “Can I help you?”
Daniel explained who he was. Suddenly, Beatrice experienced some trouble with her expression, but her voice was composed when she replied. “Angie and Quinn went to Sunset Cove for a swim.”
He pulled out the map of West Haven he had acquired with the sailboat rental. “Can you show me where that is, please?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Swimming, by Thor. So much for Drake’s assurances. Swimming! In her condition?
Beatrice placed a careful circle around a secluded bay, guarded by a massive arcing reef. Her amusement had been replaced by wariness.
“Can I sail there?” he asked.
Her lips pursed. “To the ocean side of the reef, perhaps, but unless you have a local with you, I wouldn’t advise trying to bring a boat in to shore.”
His training held. He immolated neither Beatrice nor the co-op. He even managed a stiff Thank you. At least, he thought he did.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Angie~
“This is a gorgeous spot,” Angie said happily. She stretched out on her towel and rubbed her tummy. “And that was a wonderful lunch.”
Moira’s green eyes twinkled. She adjusted the baby at her breast and rubbed her sleepy daughter’s feet. Angie knew her cousin found it diverting that Quinn had invited them both to a picnic sail, but had forgotten to pack lunch. Moira had magicked a hamper, picnic cloth and beach towels.
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