“How did ye find me?”
“The vessel from Mull gave us passage to Staffa, so I might discover yer fate. Nia insisted the winged beast flew straight here.”
“And Ranald?”
“Ranald died days ago, lass. Ye saw him fall into the sea.”
Her eyebrows wiggled, stretching the tear-stained skin around her eyes.
I cry for Draco.
“I should be dead. I wish to die,” she whispered, her head bowed.
“Nonsense. There is a man here who claims to be yer intended husband. I admit I wanted to thrash him when I saw ye in his embrace.”
“Draco lives?”
Gregor smiled and stepped back. Draco lay hidden in a corner of a familiar cave, on a bed of moss and heather.
“Aye, he lives. He saved ye. Once I got over the shock of his transformation—”
“Please, Laird Gregor. I wish to tell her. I must bear her fright and disappointment.”
“As ye wish, sir.”
Gregor bowed and quickly slipped out of the small cave via the hole in the floor. Smoking candles could not hide Draco’s tempting scent, until she spied the bloody bandages wrapped around his middle.
“Ye were injured in the attack!” Brianna fell to her knees and ran her hands over the rest of him as she searched out more injuries. His face, too pale for a healthy countenance, blushed. He grabbed her fingers in one of his large hands.
“Look at me,” Draco demanded. “I have much to confess.”
“Draco, tell me who attacked us. Gregor says Ranald could no’ have done this, and I jumped from the cliff when I saw ye lying dead.”
“Ye are quite impulsive, my love. ‘Twas only Gregor meaning to rescue ye from my clutches. I lay injured, but no’ dead. I had mere moments to transform before I plucked ye from the sky. Ye should have seen Gregor’s face!”
“Ye plucked me from the sky?” She swirled the words around in her mind. “How?”
Draco pushed with ungainly motion to his feet. He winced and pressed one palm to a seeping wound before bringing his black eyes back toward her gaze. “Do no’ scream.”
Brianna shook her head at the riddle while praising the powers that be. The man of her heart lived. When she focused on his face once more, fangs filled his mouth and both his eyes flared red like liquid flame. Every fingernail lengthened, and he sprouted two wings. His breeches vanished while his skin, now green as emeralds, sparkled under the candlelight.
What did she feel? Fear?
No, this is Draco, my love.
He had hidden this important aspect of his life the same way she had kept her gift of sight from him?
I have fallen in love with a man, only to find he is no mortal human. Does it matter?
She stared in guilt-filled shock as he morphed back into his human form, his scales turning back into his brown leather vest and trews.
“Brianna, I have loved ye since I first grabbed ye from under the waves inside my cavern. I have loved yer wit, yer strength, yer gifts, and yer tenderness toward a lonely man who prayed for death before he met ye. I am sorry I kept my secret from ye. Shame fills my heart at what ye must think of me.”
“Shame? Because ye can change into a beast at will, and kill those who get in yer way?”
He laughed.
Then, she wondered how his being a dragon-shifter might affect her bairn should their intimate coupling result in a child.
“Nay. I was cursed. Surely Agatah has no quarrel with an innocent child.”
“Agatah?”
“The mother of Jean, the young woman who perished beside Agatah when my clan was massacred fifteen-odd years ago. She lived as our healer but was, in truth, a most powerful witch. The death of one daughter, and the disappearance of another, drove her mad with grief. She cursed me to live the rest of my life as a winged beast, until some unselfish task made her see my life had value.”
He laughed, a bitter sound compared to the lively laughter they shared only days earlier.
“I see no reason for the curse to linger. Ye saved me from the sea creature, and ye saved me from my own foolish flight off a very high cliff.”
Draco chuckled, again. The sweet sound of his voice brought a smile to her lips. If only this Agatah were here.
“I be here, Brianna. I agree.”
Both Draco and Brianna gasped at the wispy image floating in the air. Did the ghost agree with Brianna’s words about the curse?
“I absolve ye of my wicked words and undo what has been done to thee.” With a wave of her slender hand, a bright light sailed toward Draco.
Brianna jumped back as Draco stiffened. Both exhaled and stared into each other’s eyes. He clenched both hands into fists.
“Are ye unwell?” Brianna asked.
“I am trying to change, but am unable to bring on the transformation, and my wound is healed.” He pulled her into a lusty embrace.
When they recalled their audience, they broke apart. Agatah hovered near the pallet. A scrambling sound proved Gregor returned as well. All four stared at each other until Gregor spoke.
“I missed something?”
“Aye, Gregor. ‘Tis Agatah who has removed the dragon’s curse and given me back my mortality.”
“My thanks, dear lady. This man saved my child at least twice.”
“Yer child?” Agatah drifted closer to the trio and seemed to wait for Gregor’s reply with apt attention.
“Aye, she became my ward at an early age, after I found her injured in the wood.”
“When did this occur?”
“But eighteen years past. She appeared no older than five, and kept asking for her mother. ‘Mimaw, Mimaw,’ she cried, over and over.”
“Those words! ‘Tis what my own sweet children called me. Daughter!”
Numbness slipped through Brianna’s body at their words.
Agatah the witch? My true mother?
The truth slammed her chest with a vision so strong, her knees buckled.
“Brianna,” both men shouted as they grabbed her. Gregor stepped away after Draco growled. Brianna laughed.
“What strikes ye funny?” Agatah asked.
“My own mother cursed the man I have come to love above all others. An innocent man. Ye believe him now?”
Agatah floated away from the group, and then turned and smiled. “Aye. Hatred tainted my recollection of the sad event. I first lost Brianna, then lost dear Jean. The pain tore me apart until my ghostly form spotted a single boy kneeling by the grave of his own mother. At least she would be mourned. I had no one left on this earth to mourn for me, so I cursed him.”
“Ye have me, now. I shall plant flowers in yer name wherever I dwell and talk to ye, should ye care to listen. I remember ye and yer shiny silver hair, shrill but loving voice, and love for yer daughters. Find peace, Mother.”
“Bless ye, daughter. Find happiness with this man if it is yer fate, and name yer daughter Jean.”
“We shall, Mother,” Draco answered. He pulled Brianna tightly to his chest and nuzzled her neck.
His scent filled her, as love clenched tight around her heart. On the next breath, she watched her mother’s pale image fade away. Gregor padded close and whispered something she could not understand.
“What say ye?”
“Will ye two live with me in Glenelg?”
“Nay,” Draco answered.
Brianna and Gregor stared at Draco’s shuttered glare. Gregor offered both a home and a clan to call their own.
Why does he refuse the man’s generosity?
“I am a MacDonald. Brianna is a Colson, also of Clan MacDonald. We and the Macleod’s have no’ seen eye to eye for some time, and I dare no’ raise my bairns in their midst.”
Gregor nodded as understanding crossed his face at Draco’s pronouncement. “I will see that the sailors who brought me leave food and gear. Care for her. I have loved her as a daughter. I only attacked ye when I spied yer hands upon her.”
“Apology accepted,” Dra
co answered with a grin. “Ye meant to protect her, as will I from this day forward.”
“So be it.” Gregor climbed down from their cave and Brianna’s heart filled to bursting with love. If their love resulted in a child—or two—she prayed they would parent their children with courage and strength.
“Have I answered the man too impulsively? I should have asked yer wish in this matter.”
“Nay, ye spoke my wishes. We shall spend some time together to consider our options. No’ too long, I must admit.”
“I thought ye might enjoy living here with me. We have food, fresh water, and—”
“A bed. My own bed.” She giggled when Draco’s mouth gaped at her words.
“Draco, my love, I shall no’ spend another night within the arms of a man I have no’ wed, because it be a sin. Of course, as laird of our people, Gregor has the power to perform the ceremony. Too bad he is on his way—”
“Laird Gregor! Wait!” Draco shouted as he climbed down and chased after the man before he had a chance to sail away.
THE END
…and Continues to Thrive with Dru and Shaw
Dru Little flew away from her home in a cave beneath a Scottish Island to end her lonely existence and find companionship across the sea. Her journey in late 1860 has led her to the modern American city of Charleston, South Carolina. Hiding her true self, she takes over the life of a serving girl and enjoys the hard life working in a tavern near the wharves. She has no idea that her life will turn upside down in a dark alley the moment a handsome soldier saves her life.
Lieutenant Shaw Stenhouse has his own worries. Southern secessionists are talking up a storm in Charleston. His fellow Federal soldiers are suddenly at risk from the community they are here to protect. The possibility of civil war takes a backseat when he saves a comely lass from drunken sailors. A good deed and a stolen kiss put a smile on his face until the threat of war becomes a reality. Their instant attraction proves disastrous when Dru spots her former lover, the Black Dragon, working for General Beauregard and the southern troops. As the clandestine group plans their attack on Fort Sumter, and Shaw’s soldiers, she takes to the sky.
Dru fights against the threat of detection, while she fears losing Shaw’s love. What will he do when he finds out that she is a powerful Scottish dragon Hell-bent on carrying him to safety? When Shaw discovers her hiding inside the heavily guarded fortress, thoughts of espionage—and worse—catapult the two lovers into danger from many sides.
When her former lover threatens Shaw, Dru must decide which is more important: protecting another of her kind, now nearly extinct, or protecting the human male, the man she has come to love. Amid cannon fire, and the threat of Civil War, love and trust will find a way.
Southern Fried
DRAGON
CHAPTER 1
Charleston Harbor, South Carolina
December 1860
The men were on her in a heartbeat. They groped, pawed, and mumbled filthy words, expecting Dru Little to welcome their company. Blazes. Just my luck. A trio of smelly, drunken seamen had wandered down the alley behind the inn, moments after she’d stepped outside. How careless to lose awareness of her surroundings simply fetching a bag of flour. Even with her supernatural senses, she’d smelled liquor-tainted breath and soured uniforms too late to avoid the attack.
When a large meaty fist squeezed a breast, she hissed. The hand disappeared, but returned quickly. Her attention swung to another man who yanked the hem of her dress above her knees. She squirmed as she gathered strength to hold her nature at bay. Dru kicked until her booted foot met bone. A dark shape dropped to the dirt.
“Bitch.”
Dru smiled. Her tongue licked the tips of her lengthening fangs still hidden from her assailants. A third man stepped back, his eyes wide.
Maybe, not so hidden.
The sudden splitting of thin human skin tore a scream from her dry throat. The pain increased each time her talons escaped from beneath her human fingernails.
She grabbed the hand on her breast and squeezed. Its owner howled as the tips of her claws sunk into his flesh.
The satisfaction was short-lived. The man she’d kicked had jumped to his feet only to lunge at her with murder reflected in his lamp-lit eyes. Two filthy hands with calloused fingers encircled her neck before she could take a deep enough breath to summon a ball of flame. A suffocating near-silence, peppered with grunts, enveloped Dru as they pulled her to the ground.
How sad to die in human form. How inexcusable to not have torn the men to pieces before they’d gotten the best of her inner dragon.
“Who goes there?” A deep voice split the night, and heavy footsteps grew close. A man raced toward them through the darkness. His blue uniform screamed authority. His outraged yell made her attackers pause. When he brandished what she assumed was a sword, the drunks scattered like rats.
Two tripped over each other, then scrambled to their feet, while the stranger’s weapon swooped and slashed. Oddly, Dru’s superior senses did not smell blood. The alley’s rancid odor made her sneeze, which garnered her savior’s attention.
Dru retracted her talons, sat up, and fussed with her hair. The bun she wore while working, required by her employer, had come undone during the drunkards’ attack. She had felt no fear.
I am a dragon.
The scoundrels should thank their lucky stars the soldier’s appearance halted her transformation, or they might have found themselves her late night snack.
When the tall shadow moved and crossed the dark alley to stop in front of her, she smelled the sea. Wild, fresh, and sexy. It enveloped him, a more pleasant smell than the stench of the alley and the three drunkards. He offered his hand.
The hand not holding the weapon. Dru accepted it, now that her fingers had returned to normal. Normal for her human persona, anyway.
The moment they touched, a spark tingled and raced up her arm despite the fact her savior wore gloves. His eyes widened. Had he felt it, too?
He released her and stepped back, then saluted her with his weapon. Dru laughed, the light-hearted and improper sound a welcome change from the stillness after the attack. His weapon was a long, slightly bent loaf of bread.
“Lieutenant Shaw Stenhouse, at your service, Ma’am.” Nearly breathless, he swept low in an exaggerated bow, then poked through the shadows with his boot. He scooped up the hat she’d seen fly off his head as he ran when he’d brandished his weapon.
Dru laughed again. “Pleased to meet ye, young sir. Aye, ye did those men a service.”
“Pardon?”
He ran a hand over his head, straightening his dark hair. Brown or black? Hard to tell beneath the moonlight spilling in the alley. He’d tied it back in a queue, and the piece of coarse hemp rope fluttered in the soft breeze that lacked the strength to clear the fetid smells from the dark alleyway.
Tread lightly with this one, she thought.
“I gave as good as I got, sir. They earned a few well-placed bruises this night. I wanted to inflict more, ‘tis all.”
He laughed. The low rumble made goose bumps pop along her forearms. Heat spread deep inside her womb. How odd. No human male had ever caused such a reaction, but this male smelled good and was very pleasing to the eye.
She moved several steps back toward the inn’s kitchen door. He followed, still smiling. Candlelight seeped from the kitchen and rewarded Dru with a glimpse of a deep-set pair of sparkling gray eyes.
By his nervous shuffle and backward glances, Dru sensed he had somewhere else to be. He’d run to her rescue, and she should thank him with more than a few words.
The thought made her lips tremble, itching to taste him. Not as dinner, of course, but as the human male standing before her. When he gazed down at his feet, then back at her mouth, she’d smiled. The weird longing to kiss him senseless was out-of-place in their situation. She planned to pass through this human existence until something better came along. Dru had no need for sexual entanglements.
&nbs
p; Not tonight, anyway.
“I feel I’m a’keepin’ ye from yer duties, sir.”
“If they come back—”
“Fear not, sir. I will not remain outside this night. Where are ye’ headed?”
“Across the harbor, to Fort Moultrie. I am part of the 1st U. S. Artillery regiment. I travel by boat once a week to the Charleston docks for supplies.” He turned and gazed toward the end of the alley facing the harbor. “My men are waiting…”
When he turned back to face her, Dru tossed her loosened hair over one shoulder and couldn’t help giggling when his eyes tracked the movement. “Maggie needs this flour.”
“Maggie?” he croaked, as he stepped closer.
The young man sounded like he needed a stiff drink. Too bad the inn’s dining hall had closed for the night. His scent washed over her anew. Salt, sea, and male. Human male, a new scent she was beginning to like. “Maggie is the cook. I help her, and serve in here.”
Lieutenant Stenhouse’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen door, only now seeming to realize where they stood. The small amount of light that filtered into the alley from the kitchen bathed them in its glow. His attention returned to her mouth.
Would he kiss her?
Such a silly thought, Dru.
However, when his head bent low and he brushed his warm lips across her mouth, Dru’s knees wobbled. Strong hands clasped her waist as butterflies filled her stomach. The brief touch, quickly over, stirred her with a longing for more.
Dru sensed his retreat.
Blazes!
When had she closed her eyes? Tossing away all shyness, her hands circled his neck then drew his head down. She kissed him. Hard.
Her strength kept him captive, yet he did not fight for release. His arms encircled her, and pulled her close. Her breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest. Brass buttons pinched her sensitive breasts while the smell of damp wool flooded her nostrils. His lips were softer than she’d expected, and he tasted indescribably delicious. Fire stirred inside her veins as her blood heated. The unexpected pleasure of their joining made her heart soar.
Dragon Bites Page 10
