Dragon Bites

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  “I am ready.”

  Rory started. She’d come up behind him, close enough that her breath tickled his neck like the gentle breeze he’d felt, while standing inside the crumbling tower of Urquhart Castle. Her fragrance surrounded him, a seductive combination of feminine musk and fresh water.

  “Umm, this way,” he said, pointing a shaky finger toward the nearby inn. As they walked, a quick glance showed him that she was now discreetly covered. Even so, her soggy dress hugged breasts that bounced in time with each bare-footed step. Nessía’s damp hair tossed in the breeze, and his fingers itched to gather up a fistful of strands. She smelled like an incredibly alluring mixture of beach sand, pond water, and female.

  They climbed the stone steps, side by side. Rory ushered her through the door and slowly closed it. Only a few low lights burned in the front rooms. With no sign of either the innkeepers or the American women, he grabbed Nessía’s hand and pulled her up the staircase. Padding softly for fear of letting on that he’d brought a woman home, Rory reached his room. He unlocked his door, opened it, and pulled his guest inside.

  Instead of flying by him as he gently closed the door, soft, chilled flesh suddenly filled his arms. While her hands circled his neck, Nessía’s luscious lips pressed against his mouth. As their bodies entwined, they fell together on his bed. Pillows tumbled to the floor. His heart slammed against his ribs while his erection swelled and lengthened, pressing against the front of his jeans. Again.

  “Nessía, please…” What the heck am I saying? Isn’t this exactly what I planned the minute I walked toward the pub tonight?

  “Too many words. Talk later.”

  Rory, obedient for the first time in his adult life, rolled her beneath him and clung to her as if she might fade away. Her damp fabric of her dress soaked the front of his shirt. The chilly reminder knocked some sense into his head. Her skin was frigid and he was keeping her from a hot shower. He rolled onto his back, and disconnected from the plush bounty of her breasts and the warmth of her thighs. When she purred and reached for him, he accidentally rolled off the side of the bed.

  Thump.

  “Owww.” Rory sat up and rubbed his aching temple. His jeans pinched his groin and he wanted nothing more than to strip off the offending material. Cooler heads prevailed.

  “Where did ye go?” Nessía asked, staring at him from the bed.

  My bed.

  She looked rumpled, flummoxed, and innocent. Her hair fluttered around her shoulders in disarray and her dress hung off one shoulder. When she chewed on her lower lip, he hesitated.

  “We don’t have to go any further.” It killed him to offer her a way out, but his feelings for her had him flummoxed.

  “Rory, I want this. I think.”

  Rory stared at the flushed skin that outlined her delicate collarbone. If the dress and shirt slipped any lower, he’d be able to suckle her naked breasts.

  Not a bad idea.

  No, take it slow.

  Rory didn’t want to scare her off, so he pushed up to his knees and rubbed a sore hip. “I fell. The bed is too small. Back home, I have a king.”

  Her brows arched and her beautiful blue eyes opened wide. She scurried to a kneeling position, her back ramrod straight, and her mouth in a frown. “Ye keep royalty in your bedroom?”

  His booming laugh echoed off the flower-papered walls, and filled the room. Nessía’s cheeks turned a brilliant red. She shuffled off the bed and headed for the door. On his feet in an instant, Rory gathered her in his arms before she left his life forever. “I’m sorry.”

  “Ye should be.”

  She struggled for moments then melted into his embrace. When she lifted her head, tears glistened in her eyes. His stomach clenched with guilt. Slowly, he lowered his head, and gave her ample opportunity to pull back. When she did not move, he crushed her mouth with his lips. Drinking in her deliciousness, Rory inhaled her essence and smelled the loch’s mist. Working his fingers across her soggy clothing, he massaged her back.

  She purred like a kitten.

  Backing her against the door to the hall, he pressed a knee between her legs, and opened her. A moan filled his mouth.

  Mine or hers?

  Heat and pure pleasure threatened to buckle his knees, until a distinctive rap, rap, rap reverberated from the door.

  Mr. Neeps!

  “Just a second,” Rory said. He pulled Nessía across the room, and pushed her inside the bathroom. He pressed a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise, then closed the door. Returning to the unwelcome visitor in the hallway, he pulled his door open and forced a smile.

  “Mr. Hawthorn,” the innkeeper said, gruffly, “ye be making enough noise to wake the dead.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry. I…fell out of bed.”

  Mr. Neeps looked around without entering, huffed, and retreated back down the hall. Rory watched him go, then locked and bolted the door. Gathering the pillows, he tossed them back on the bed then knocked on the bathroom door.

  He heard the shower running.

  “Come in.”

  He walked in, then stopped. Nessía’s silhouette swayed behind the frosted glass of the shower door.

  How can my mouth go bone dry in the presence of all that water?

  Splashes and giggles filled the air, as if Nessía had never used an indoor shower before. An increasingly strange young lady, his confused mind thought, until he spotted her clothing lay along the side of the empty tub and remembered she was naked.

  In my shower.

  “Here is some shampoo,” he said as he passed a complimentary bottle beyond the glass partition.

  “Shampoo?”

  “I presume you want to wash your hair.” He’d rather not have the clean tang of the loch mar the simple fragrance he had come to know as Nessía.

  Her hand slid from behind the glass and as she wrapped her wet fingers around the tiny bottle, she splashed his hand and arm with icy spray.

  “Isn’t there any hot water left?”

  A damp head popped out. “Hot water? Where? Show me!”

  Is she for real?

  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he stripped and stepped inside the large, tiled shower. She huddled against the back wall, her arms crossed over her ample chest, the bottle of shampoo clutched in one hand. He smiled while urging his flaccid member to stay still, then adjusted the spray. Hot water mixed with the icy shower and turned more palatable. Nessía handed him the bottle as if not knowing what to do with it, then joined him beneath the pulse. Squealing with glee, she jumped and giggled.

  Rory shampooed his hair and tossed her the bottle. She sniffed the bottle’s contents and mimicked his actions. While he rinsed the soap from his face and head, a shriek threw him back against the tile wall. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, his gaze filled with Nessía slapping at her eyes.

  “Soap. Rinse it off,” he said. He shoved her head under the spray, then reached for a towel. While the water flushed the last of the suds from her eyes, he pulled her face into the terrycloth.

  Rory tried not to laugh. Why did she act as if she’d never before taken a shower nor washed her hair with bottled shampoo?

  “Thank ye,” she whispered.

  He grabbed the offered towel and tossed it out the door. She stared up at him, eyes rimmed in red, with wet strands of hair hanging limp on her shoulders. Rory stared down at her, a woman who appeared small and vulnerable, when earlier, she’d dumped an entire tray of food and drink in his lap.

  Unable to speak, he leaned down. Rory kissed her, while he kept his hands on the walls. Not wanting to pressure her, he gently brushed his lips over her mouth, while his tongue licked drops of water from her chin.

  Hell, she’s standing naked in my shower. I can wait.

  She pulled back and blinked up at him.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she teased.

  Rory wanted to respond, but the innocent sparkle in her eyes and the teasing tone of her Scottish burr captivated him. His arm
s, legs, and throat went numb.

  When the water grew cold again, he reached past her, turned off the water, then stepped from the shower. Gathering two more fluffy towels, he quickly wrapped one around his waist then held one up to Nessía. She stepped into it, then allowed him to circle it around her, cocooning her within his arms. Her hair smelled fresh from his shampoo, and her skin dripped with moisture. Rory leaned forward and ran his tongue along her protruding collarbone.

  Nessía sighed. Her head bent to the side, and exposed her neck to his mouth. Rory nipped along the succulent flesh, planted tiny kisses up to her earlobe, then down again, and stopped just above breasts swathed in a towel.

  “Rory…”

  He smiled at her whispered plea, stood straight, and kissed her forehead. Her smile’s brilliance lit up the room, and his chest swelled with a yearning he’d kept bound and hidden deep inside too long.

  Mine.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mine. The simple one-word thought coaxed him to cling to her, then guide her back into the bedroom. When she neared the bed, he tugged at the towel and it dropped to the floor. He backed away for a better view, and to give her space. Would she make the next move, or disappear out the door?

  He stood silent, semi-aroused, several feet from her. He sucked in his breath when she crawled across the bedspread on her elbows. When she reached the headboard and smiled, his balls tightened. She laid back in a seductive pose, then fanned out her hair into a golden-brown halo against the pillows.

  “You are so beautiful, you take my breath away.”

  Nessía smiled wider in response, and his erection jerked to attention. Her gaze drifted lower, and he prayed she liked what she saw.

  “Ye are quite large.”

  Though he appreciated her observation, the way she said it sounded as if…

  “Are you a virgin?” God, I hope not.

  Shaking her head, she blushed. “No, but I have only been with one man.”

  Rory wanted to kill the bastard, whatever his name. An odd reaction. Still, curiosity got the better of him as he padded closer. He crawled on the bed and moved slowly forward until he planted his knees on either side of her thighs. He stared into her shadowed eyes. Child-like wonder stared back.

  “And how long did this relationship last?” If she still saw the man, Rory needed an excuse to take her home. He refused to poach in someone else’s pond.

  “One very quick…in and out.” She giggled.

  Rory glared, then laughed. She really is an innocent. She acted interested in making love tonight, with him. Would she change her mind any minute? He grew painfully hard, so he let his words as well as his physical reaction let her know how much he desired her. Could she understand how deep he’d fallen? “I want you.”

  “I am here, am I not?”

  “I want to make love to you.” He reached out with his hand and, with gentle pressure, turned her head toward the bedside lamp. He stared at her profile, and the gentle curve of her chin. She cupped the hand on her cheek with her tiny hand and turned to face him. He followed the straight sweep of her nose up to blue eyes that sparkled with desire. He suddenly didn’t want to move.

  “No one is stopping ye from doing as ye please, my lord.”

  “Your mouth opens and the most unusual words, in the sweetest Scottish burr, spring forth. I can’t get enough. Stay with me.”

  “Until when?”

  The rest of my life, he wanted to say. “Until morning. Breakfast starts at 7 o’clock so we need to slip away before the other guests get up.”

  “Ye wish for me to stay here? Sleep here, with ye?” She pushed up onto her elbows, her mouth within inches of his chin. Heat drifted up and slammed him with her fragrance. Her scent bathed him in a blanket of sensation. He craved more.

  Naked above her, he slid down until his erection nestled between her thighs, and his chest lay against her breasts. She lay back with her legs spread slightly, anchoring him near her core’s opening.

  Teasing him.

  Or, welcoming him?

  “Sleep is overrated, Rory said, chuckling, “and I want to take my time. I’ve waited for someone like you all my life.” The truth behind the words sent a shiver down his spine. He had never opened his heart to a woman. His line of work kept him alone in the field or in the museum’s dusty basement more hours than he could count. As if Nessía read his mind, she surprised him with a kiss and another question.

  “Why are ye here? In Na Cearcan Bã Na?”

  Rory grimaced. With his life in upheaval, he’d hiked across the moors from Wick to Inverness. He remembered traveling through the canals on a fishing boat heading to Loch Ness, and weighing his options. Should he continue to work for peanuts at the science museum or hop on daddy’s corporate payroll? His father’s offer included his partner’s daughter in marriage. He shivered again, for a different reason.

  “I am investigating the geological transcurrent fault under the loch, active since Mid Devonian times,” he said, stretching the truth.

  “Whose fault?”

  “The fault beneath the loch. It has produced earthquakes over the years. Over centuries, in fact. I want to study the geological structure and come up with a prediction for reoccurrences.”

  Nessía squirmed beneath him. She seemed nervous about something other than having a naked man lying on top of her. Rory leaned closer and nibbled at the corner of her mouth, but she did not respond with either a kiss or a smile.

  “What’s wrong, love?”

  She stiffened beneath him. Did she object to his endearment? Or, did scientists make her nervous. This is a hell of a time to discover either reason.

  “Rory, I know what an earthquake is. We have them all the time, but I never heard that anyone could predict—”

  “I believe you’re mistaken. Scottish quakes are rare. In fact, the last one of any significance occurred back in 1816, well before your time.”

  She did not argue with him, nor did she smile at her obvious mistake. Scotland’s history included about three events each century greater than 4.0 on the Richter scale. The guide at the castle mentioned how aftershocks and minor tremblers occurred every so often, especially in the area around Na Cearcan Bã Na.

  She must be referring to that.

  ***

  Nessía squirmed and turned her head to the side. She snapped her eyelids shut to prevent Rory from witnessing the shame behind her eyes…the shame she felt knowing she caused the earthquakes that had brought him all the way here from America.

  The first attempt to shake the earth occurred when she discovered the receding glacier had boxed her in. She initially rejoiced when wave after wave of crystal clear, fresh water filled the loch as the ice melted away. Her happiness waned when only small rivers appeared at the northern tip of the loch, where the deep valley left by the glacier filled with rock and dirt. The rivers themselves were too shallow for her to traverse.

  As a wingless dragon, her only recourse was to ram her scaly head against the steep slopes that rose a short distance from shore. Her actions only succeeded in causing tons of stone to fall, trapping her further.

  Boredom made her try her luck again. After a particularly strong rumbling—probably the one Rory mentioned—a Faerie Queen visited her after the tremors subsided. The creature of the netherworld found Nessía sunning herself on the rocky shores of Cherry Island.

  “I beg thee. Stop these shakings, before the mountains fall in upon the Faerie Kingdom.”

  Embarrassed, and startled at the realization that her heartache had caused danger to others, Nessía had hung her head. “I will desist. It is just that I am so lonely.”

  “Then, may I offer you a boon?”

  Nessía had slithered off the island and into the loch, reemerged, then wondered if she had heard the fae correctly. “A boon?”

  “True love can be yours, if you have the courage to seek it out.”

  “But, I am alone. I have traversed Loch Ness from end to end. There are no more
like me.

  “Seek your heart’s desire elsewhere.” The fae waved a wand of rainbow-tipped glass toward the shore. “There, you shall find true love.”

  Nessía had squinted, and her gaze followed where the queen of the fae pointed at the town of Na Cearcan Bã Na and its humans, asleep in their tiny, dark cottages.

  “True love? With a human?”

  “Find love, marry, raise a family, and never return to the lonely murkiness of Loch Ness.” The fae had twirled the wand over Nessía’s horns then under her snout.

  Sparkles and stars filled the air and tickled her scales. Her body shrunk and her claws retracted. When she suddenly flailed in the water in human form, she swam to shore, crept behind the nearest cottage, and tugged the first dress she could find over her head.

  She immediately applied for a position at the pub, since she had watched the comings and goings for years. One night soon after, Nessía served dinner and a tankard of ale to a man named Montgomery MacDonald, and fell in love.

  Did I love Monty?

  She opened her eyes as she compared her current feelings toward the man lying atop her, with Monty. Monty had been a pleasant diversion, but he treated her like a plaything. Would Rory Hawthorn treat her the same way?

  She had to know. Another broken heart would be the death of her. “Before this goes any farther—”

  “This?”

  She wiggled beneath him, and his hard, hot erection trembled between her legs, so close to her entrance. Unlike Monty, centuries earlier, Rory did not force himself inside. Tension flowed off his body when she had spoken.

  “Aye, this. What be your intentions?” By the way his gaze no longer met hers, Nessía knew that the question was not an amiable one. to a man bent on pleasure. “Rory, I want to share myself, but, I am more fragile than I appear.”

  He kissed her, and as she tasted his answer on her lips, all worries drifted away. When his tongue dipped inside her mouth, and stroked the soft, sensitive interior, her knees bent, and her fingers gripped his hips in a wanton display of need.

  “Trust me,” he whispered.

  “I do.”