“Thanks, we’re looking forward to being daddies,” was Tyler’s invariable response. Which of course instantly shut the teasing down, and stopped the nosy from asking Kayla directly about her baby’s father.
But in the watches of the night, Kayla did wonder how she would manage once her son was born. She knew her baby was male because of the ultrasound. Of course, Voros had told her she would bear him sons, but undoubtedly this was just sexist speak for ‘I want an heir.’ The difficulty was that she would require child care if she wanted to work, and although Tyler and Nate were being wonderful, she couldn’t expect babysitting when they also needed to work.
When Dr. Whitcomb called her out of the blue to say that at last he had the money to study the spider crabs of Ngaire Island, Kayla was delighted.
“We have sufficient funds for a longitudinal study,” Dr. Whitcomb told her. “This will expand our research into the effects of Heterosaccus on crabs. We have time to properly investigate how the parasite is driving the evolution of the crabs, and vice versa of course. And Dave Foster’s reef building project also has the green light. I want you to head up both projects. If you’re interested.”
“Of course, I’m interested,” Kayla responded immediately. “Thank you for thinking of me, sir.”
In one twenty-minute call, Kayla’s life changed. She went from being a starving post-doc with two bad jobs, to a research fellow of the University of Auckland with no teaching responsibilities, other than the thesis work of the Masters of Science students who made up her research assistants.
Kayla had always loved Ngaire Island. The laboratory she was in charge of was just two rusty Nissen huts, hot in summer, and cold in winter. But the island was Eden as far as she was concerned. The waters that surrounded the small volcanic island held a wealth of different habitats which provided an endless variety of research subjects. The forested interior was a place of dazzling beauty.
Kayla had a little two-bedroom cottage as her home. It wasn’t fancy, but it was more than adequate for her. She moved in grateful for its shabby furniture and tiny kitchen. From the narrow front porch, she could look down over the bushes and wildflowers that grew out of the rocks to the glistening pink sand of the bay. All around her little house, the tall pohutukawas or Christmas trees grew. Their green leaves and red flowers were both beautiful and sheltering. Paradise, indeed.
Almost before she had settled into her lab and got to know the first of her ever-changing assistants, islanders appeared and introduced themselves and made her welcome. Looking as she did, she had always wondered about her own heritage. Her adoptive parents had been totally silent on the topic of her birth parents and Aunt Audrey and Uncle Chester had denied all knowledge. But these handsome men and women, who proudly tattooed their faces and bodies as their ancestors had done, seemed to assume she was one of them.
She had no sooner returned from Auckland with her son Aidan, when one of her friends showed up with a lovely young woman with blue tattoos curling on her chin.
“This is my cousin, Amiria,” Rongo Te Paka told her cheerfully. “She will look after the little one while you are working, Dr. Cooper.”
Tall, curly haired Rongo was impossibly fit. His broad chest and back were decorated with intricate designs as were his muscular legs. He looked and acted like a traditional Maori warrior. As far as Kayla could tell, despite a keen intelligence and great curiosity, the young Maori man had no ambition beyond his fishing village. But he was a good friend to her.
He and his friends often brought her fresh fish from their haul and repaired her cottage when it needed it. They refused all compensation, claiming her as kin. With her new ability to detect deceit, she could tell they were perfectly sincere, so she accepted their help. She needed all the friends and family she could get.
But Amiria was a different proposition. Kayla was absolutely certain she had never seen this girl before.
“Where are you from,” she asked the young woman.
“I come from the South Island,” Amiria said cheerfully. “My grandfather has found me a husband here,” she continued.
“Oh.” Kayla had no idea what it was permissible to ask. Amiria seemed to be about her own age or a little younger. And despite her beauty and intelligence she appeared to be utterly contented with her arranged marriage.
They settled on a reasonable wage. Amiria made no fuss about accepting money for child minding, and she seemed very competent when she took the baby into her arms. Little Aidan was the sweetest tempered infant and he took to his Maori nursemaid instantly. Before long, Kayla realized her child had two women wrapped around his little fingers.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Present Day...
Watatoni Te Kanewa, Dragon Lord of the Tasman Islands glared menacingly at the two young dragons seated before him. The blue tattoos on his brown jaw and the ones that circled his body from collarbones to waist rippled a potent warning. He leaned forward towards his allies bristling with affront.
“You dare,” he thundered. “You dare demand brides of me?”
Roland, Lord Voros, Lord of Tarakona and Dreki, remained seated and composed his aquiline features. Watatoni Te Kanewa was fearsome but he had little use for cowards. Roland glanced sidelong at his companion Ivan Sarkany, but Ivan’s chiseled features were just as calm and impassive as they had been all day. Ivan returned their host’s ferocious scowl with a bland and courteous gaze.
Voros had been surprised when the old dragon lord had received them in the traditional flax loincloth and bare chest of the Maori warrior. And even more surprised when Watatoni had waved his spear carriers away and left his broad ceremonial front porch to enter his house with only his guests.
From roof beam and pillars, the carvings of Te Kanewa’s ancestors glared down at Roland and Ivan with their tongues fully extended in ritual defiance. Watatoni looked just as warlike as his ancestors. He glowered forbiddingly at the two men seated on his wooden floor.
“We demand nothing of you, Grandfather,” Roland assured the chieftain. “We only plead with you for a maiden of your House. Not as a right, but as the hope of friendship.”
Lord Te Kanewa was not placated. His bare chest heaved with anger and his tattoos bulged and twisted with his rage. He drew breath deep into his massive lungs and began his lecture. “For over a hundred years the Guild of Dragons has tried to draw our Maori dragons into its fold. For a hundred and sixty years we have kept ourselves apart. And why? Because we could see with our own eyes the decadence of European dragons.”
Roland glanced again at Ivan. Neither said anything. They would have to let Watatoni have his rant out in silence.
“If we needed proof that our ways are not yours,” continued Te Kanewa in a voice like thunder, “The decline in your numbers would have been all we needed. You come to me, Roland, as your great-grandfather did, and I say to you what I said to him: Our maidens are the promised brides of men of valor and self-control.
“When our young men are given their mates they have to earn them with many proofs of self-denial and many deeds of courage. They are tested until their sinews strain and the burden lashes their souls. Not till they are joined in marriage do they dare so much as touch a fingertip to their women. And our reward for keeping ourselves pure has been to see our race increase.
“Twelve sons have I. And ten daughters. And ten times that many grandchildren. My brothers are as blessed as I.
“Where are your brothers, Voros of Tarakona and Dreki? Where are your sons, Ivan Sarkany?”
Lord Te Kanewa glared fiercely at the two handsome dragon shifters before him. “You lack discipline,” he continued contemptuously. “You, Sarkany, have lain with maidens so numerous they cannot be counted. You have wasted your seed on women who could never bear you firelings.”
The old chief turned his baleful glare on Roland. “You, Roland, son of my friend, and grandson and great-grandson of my friends, and adoptive son of my house, are even more degenerate. Not two hundred miles from h
ere your mate and son live alone, abandoned, unclaimed. My warriors labor day and night to guard your greatest treasure, Lord Voros. And you, what do you do? You disport yourself with feeble creatures not worth the half of the precious female who has gifted you a fireling. What have you to say to me?”
Roland swallowed and sleeked his blond hair off his face while he decided how to deal with this frontal attack. He inclined his head politely to his host and swallowed his fury. “My Lord,” he managed. “I do not seek a bride for myself. I am mated to my beloved Kayla. It is my friend, the brother and Right Arm of Lord Sarkany, who craves the favor of a maiden bride.”
“I would esteem the courtesy of being joined to a woman of your family,” Ivan Sarkany began. He stopped when the old dragon lord raised a large and imperious hand to silence him.
“It is out of the question. Our maidens are promised to their mates. They are bonded before they are women made. You will have to seek a wife elsewhere, son of the House of Sarkany.
“As for you, Roland, you are welcome to as many sword bearers as you need. My nephews and grandsons are well trained and loyal and will guard you and your treasure with their lives. We will fulfill the pledges we have made. But you need to set your house in order.” Te Kanewa lowered his booming voice. “I hear you are about to be elected High Marshal of the Grand Council.”
“This is so, my lord,” said Voros taken aback. “But it is not widely known. May I ask how you heard of this?”
The old Maori dragon shook his head as if shaking off a pesky fly. “I am old,” he said. “But still my eyes see clearly. As in the days of yore, we keep our ways and our magic is still strong. Roland Voros, your treasure is imperiled by your ambition. You have made an enemy of Vadim of Montenegro, and he plots against you. Why should you be surprised if he seeks revenge upon your unclaimed woman? By all the ancient laws of your Guild, is she not his — or any dragon’s — to seize if they have the strength?”
“Not exactly,” corrected Roland taken aback. “An unclaimed mate is still under the protection of her transformer.” But he stood up as if uncertain. His casual black slacks and blue polo shirt were elegantly casual, but compared to his vigorous, warlike host in his tribal costume he looked effete. “Grandfather, do you foretell that my woman will be attacked?” he demanded.
“Ngaire is not at the ends of the earth anymore,” said Te Kanewa impatiently. “It has telecommunications. It is in the news. Your mate has published research papers, and her face and name are known. Is Vadim of Montenegro a fool that he cannot find your treasure? Are you convinced Maximilian of Landor is dead?”
“His body was never recovered. We believe it was eaten by sharks,” put in Ivan.
“You believe. You believe,” said Te Kanewa scornfully. “I have seen your enemies rejoicing. While you make bed sport with whores you neglect your true mates. Ivan Sarkany your bride is to be found within the Severn Isles.
“Roland, your bride has long been chosen. Claim her before she is lost to you.” Te Kanewa stood up. He might have been the original for the fierce warriors carved into his roof beams. His black eyes looked piercingly at the two young dragon lords before him.
Sarkany and Voros exchanged glances. As one they bowed to their host.
“We will leave you, my lord,” said Voros respectfully. “If you have seen danger then we must counter it. We thank you for your wise counsel.”
* * *
“Well, so much for acquiring a Maori bride,” Ivan Sarkany said desolately as he and Roland Voros flew back to Wellington in Voros’ Cessna. Voros was in the pilot’s seat. “I am apparently disqualified for wasting my seed.” He grimaced.
“I did warn you that the Maori dragons were straitlaced, didn’t I?” Roland said.
“You did. But I thought that Lord Te Kanewa might still want to buy a granddaughter a rich husband,” Ivan said. He paused. “Do you truly have a mate, Ro? And a fireling?” he asked wonderingly.
“I do.” Roland checked his instruments as if his confirmation was casual. But a pulse beat in his clamped jaw.
“You’ve kept it quiet.”
“She refused me,” said Voros bitterly. “She ran off and took lovers after her transformation.” For a moment his handsome face was wreathed in the smoke and the cabin reeked of brimstone.
“Do you mean to tell me that you were lucky enough to meet and transform a virgin and you let her go?” Ivan demanded incredulously. His gold eyes flashed with mingled envy and horror.
Roland shook his massive blond head as if shaking off a bad memory. His features were set in severe lines as he held the small plane level. “She flaunted her lovers in my face,” he said vehemently. “I would have immolated her where she stood if I had not maintained self-control.”
Ivan leaned across and punched his friend in one mighty arm. “You are a fool, Voros,” he said earnestly. “You’re describing an impossibility. You know your dragon lore. None better. Do you remember our ancestor Ferdinand the Barbarian?”
“Naturally.”
“He accused his wife of taking a lover and walled her up alive in a tower,” Ivan recounted.
“In the dungeon of his castle,” corrected Roland.
“Whatever. In my family we say it was a tower. Maybe it was a dungeon. It was centuries ago — so who knows? The important part is that her brothers heard of this outrage and they rescued Isolde the Pure from her husband and razed his castle.” Ivan grinned. “And a good thing too cousin, since you and I descend from her son Vladislav.”
“So we do, cousin,” Roland said noncommittally. “And from Ferdinand the Barbarian. What is your point?”
“Just that Ferd accused his wife of infidelity, but since she was bonded to him she couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t take a lover. What makes you think your mate was doing more than getting back at you in a fight?”
Roland goggled at his friend. His chest swelled. His face darkened as the blood rushed to it. The plane tipped sideways. “She did lie to me,” he said returning his attention to the controls and leveling the aircraft. “I have proof her tongue speaks falsehoods.”
“How long ago was this?” Ivan asked cautiously.
“Three, nearly four years ago,” Roland admitted.
“And you haven’t patched this quarrel up yet?” Ivan marveled. “Are virgins and dragonesses so plentiful? Can a dragon fight his destiny? If she is your mate, and her child your son, why haven’t you married her?”
“She refused me. She ran off and slept with other men,” Roland muttered, rage in every word.
“Do you really think Watatoni Te Kanewa has the gift of prophecy?” Ivan inquired, bypassing the question of infidelity.
Roland shrugged. His lofty brow was furrowed in thought. “He certainly has something. He knew about Vadim of Montenegro and Maximilian of Landor’s attack on your brother, and the decision of the Grand Council to exile them both. But my sword bearers are all Maori dragons. They are all his grandsons. What they know he knows.”
“Do you think your mate is safe wherever you have her stashed?”
“Of course. She lives surrounded by valiant dragons—each one is a Maori dragon and of the House of Te Kanewa. She is far from temptation. Far from danger. How should Vadim or Maximilian know of her, when you, my friend, did not?” Roland demanded.
“I haven’t been looking, Ro.” Ivan said simply. “I’m not plotting against you. Until six months ago I knew almost nothing about Vadim of Montenegro, but now that he is an enemy of the House of Sarkany, I have made it my business to know all about the toerag who attacked my brother’s bride.”
“We should have kept an eye on the backroom politics of the Grand Council,” agreed Roland shaking his head. “We were caught with our pants down when Vadim made his move against Hugo.”
“So you don’t think that Te Kanewa has second sight?” Ivan went on.
“More like third and fourth sight,” said Roland bitterly. “The Maori dragons are powerful in ways we European dragons can
only dream. My sword bearers all have wing spans in excess of thirty feet. When a squadron of those black demons appears out of a clear blue sky it is both terrifying and amazing. And I still don’t know how they do it.” Roland sighed. “Lord Te Kanewa is right though, Vadim is sure to seek revenge on both our houses. I have to claim my mate. Besides I have proof the boy is mine.”
“Proof?”
“DNA.”
Ivan slapped his knees and howled with laughter. “DNA?” he sputtered. “What happened to your sense of smell, Lord Voros?”
“I have never held my child. Never smelled him. Nor his mother since the day she confessed her perfidy.”
“Roland, take my advice and the advice of that fearful old dragon Te Kanewa. Go and make up with your bride. It’s hard enough to find a mate, you found one. Go woo her.” Ivan swallowed his smile. “How did she take her transformation?”
“Badly. She had hysterics. She wouldn’t listen to me. She was insolent and disrespectful.” Voros’s face was still indignant at the thought of his defiant mate.
“Your mate is not your subordinate,” Ivan pointed out coolly. “And even though Hugo claimed his Leah was ecstatic at her change, we both know he was lying through his teeth. If your mate didn’t know in advance she would become a dragon, she was probably shocked.
“Roland, why are you warming yourself with anger, instead of with the fire of your destined bride? Is celibacy better than sharing a bed with her?”
“Why do you imagine I have been celibate?” said Roland in his iciest tones.
Ivan’s laugh died on his lips as he contemplated his furious companion. “You know as well as I do that when a dragon bonds with his mate, other women are about as interesting as a plank of wood,” he told Roland calmly. “Will you take Watatoni Te Kanewa’s advice and go to Ngaire to claim your mate?”
“Certainly. You know that I must be in France tomorrow to be present at the vote of the Grand Council. But once I have been installed as High Marshal, I will go to Ngaire and claim Kayla.”
Dragon's Successor (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 2) Page 11
