Dragon's Pleasure (BBW / Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 3)

by Isadora Montrose

  “I like Ivan. And I like Felipe, but he has been neglecting you lately.” Mamma sighed. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t have flames and poisoned darts before this mess is settled. And I can guess what your father will say.”

  * * *

  Doing the inventory took a considerable amount of time, even though Lord Lindorm told them not to bother checking the contents of each chest. He himself spent a lot of time fiddling with the arrangement of the armor on the walls. After a couple of hours, the immaculate dragons were covered in dust and cobwebs, but the treasures had all been cross referenced against Lindorm’s computer printout.

  All the chests were present. All the weaponry and armor had been counted. The armaments were still hanging on the walls, although Lindorm had insisted on rearranging them. Nobody complained about this extra task. Organizing treasure was far too satisfying to their dragon instincts.

  I think we can safely assume that he didn’t get into the room,” Roland Voros said. “Which we might have guessed from the undisturbed dust.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Hugo. “So why are we here?”

  “Because we need a plan,” Lindorm said. “To catch that bastard when he returns.”

  Lord Verm bent double and peered into the Vault. “You fellows need a shower,” he observed.

  “We will break for a wash,” Lindorm said.

  Roland Voros smiled and winked at Hugo. “An excellent suggestion. Perhaps when we are cleaned up, our Master of War will have a plan for trapping a thief.”

  “Um,” said Lord Verm “I don’t know that catching thieves is exactly warfare.” He withdrew his head from the vault.

  Drake stuck his in. “I like the way you have arranged those shields. Eye catching, what?” he barked. “Making a nice display for our thief?”

  Lord Lindorm laughed. “Exactly, Warden, exactly. Shall we go back upstairs and talk in comfort?” He slipped his closed fist into his pocket and removed it empty.

  * * *

  Ivan knew that it was sheer cowardice to be as happy as he was to discover that Lord Lindorm was still unavailable. On the other hand, surely if he had put off his death for a few hours, he ought to spend that time getting to know his mate better? Unfortunately, she had disappeared after lunch and he didn’t know where she was.

  Beatrix van Waals spoke at his elbow. “We’re going to play tennis,” she said confidingly. “Aunt Inge wants you to join us.”

  Ivan knew a summons when he heard one. He smiled down at Beatrix. “I’ll have to change,” he said lightly.

  She beamed. “I’ll tell Aunt Inge.” She disappeared in the direction of the drawing room.

  It was probably a good idea to get some vigorous exercise in. Ivan could only hope Christina had been given similar orders. He took the stairs to his room two at a time and entered his bedroom by the main door. The sight of the big gold four-poster reminded him about Felipe. Holden had advised him to look into the Spanish dragon’s finances. He should get on that.

  He had put it off because looking for evidence against his rival seemed underhanded. But that was foolish. He was only going to collect facts. He wasn’t planning to manufacture a motive for Felipe to have murdered the Grand Duke. He would simply check out the solvency of the Bank of Estremaura. Someone else could draw conclusions.

  Back in March, Felipe had asked the Sarkanys to back his bank in a bond issue. Ivan had declined to do so on gut instinct. He and Hugo often went on instinct in business. Of course, if they were going participate in a venture, they backed up instinct with information. As a rule, information tended to confirm their instincts. They both had a talent for making money.

  When the Spanish building boom had collapsed in 2008, it had left whole swaths of the coast of Spain covered in half-built holiday homes. When the builders had defaulted on their mortgages, and declared bankruptcy, the banks had been left holding worthless deeds to the properties. If that had happened to the Bank of Estremaura, it could still be reeling many years on. Lots of bankers had kept their toxic debts on the asset side of their books to disguise the fact that they were essentially broke. The Bank of Estremaura could be yet another zombie bank, rotting on the inside, but going through the motions.

  Ivan booted up his laptop, input his security codes, and changed into his tennis whites while he thought about how best to find out what he needed to know. The Bank of Estremaura was a private company which meant that he had no access to its balance sheets. On the other hand, the failed resorts and condos were a matter of public record. He could start with those and work backward to see who owned them now.

  He stopped after twenty minutes, when he had barely begun to trace the complicated chain of ownership through numbered companies back to the developers. Lady Lindorm wanted him on her tennis courts. He glanced in his mirror on his way out the side door and suppressed a groan. The open collar of his shirt exposed the flaming hickey that Christina had given him. He was going to look like the fashion challenged if he did up the buttons to the neck. But it was better to look foolish than to expose that brand to view.

  * * *

  “I don’t know what you hoped to achieve getting us to take inventory, Treasurer, hey,” Lord Drake said testily when they were back around the table. He brushed at his suit with an irritated hand. Although he had done none of the work, he had acquired a patina of dust.

  Hugo shared a glance with Roland who firmed his lips. “We proved a negative, Warden,” Voros assured the other dragon. He looked down at the cobwebs clinging to his own suit with distaste, and moved his eyes to Lindorm. “Now that we know that the Vault was undisturbed, what is our next move, Treasurer?”

  “Shall we look at the video footage again?” Lindorm asked politely. He again turned his monitor towards Voros.

  Once again the dragon lords watched the security footage. They observed a slight blurring appear seemingly from nowhere, and remain in front of the Vault door for several minutes, before disappearing and leaving it unchanged.

  “I think we have established that the villain has tried and failed to get into the Treasury,” Lindorm said commandingly. “Yet, having stolen the inventory of the late Duke von Bulow, and believing it to be a genuine document, our invisible burglar will be tempted to try again.”

  “He would be a fool to return.” Said Voros.

  They others looked just as skeptical.

  “I think he is a fool – of the type that believes himself to be cleverer than everyone else,” Lindorm told them. “Without naming names,” he continued, “I think that we have some clues as to the identity of the villain. I at least have a suspect. I propose to let slip to him that the Key is of no use without the spell, and the spell useless without a member of one of the Houses that guard the Treasury.”

  “You can’t think Estremaura is a traitor,” declared Lord Drake vehemently. “Known him all my life, hey. Sound man. Sound.” He glared around at the others.

  “I prefer to name no names,” Lindorm said with quiet authority. “If my guess is wrong, no one will spring our trap. No innocent person could be lured into attempting to rob the Treasury.”

  “That’s so,” said Voros. “May we know what your plan is, Treasurer?”

  “I am going to facilitate the abduction of a member of one of the Guardian Houses,” Lindorm said.

  Hugo sat up straighter. He looked towards Prinze Hector who was also looking fierce.

  “My plan is not without danger for the abductee. So the reward should be commensurate with the risk.” Lindorm smiled around the table. He met Hugo’s eyes and Hector’s and shook his head slightly. “I think that the Bulows have sacrificed enough, and that catching this traitor falls to the Houses of Sarkany and Lindorm.”

  Hector made a noise of deep frustration but he did not argue.

  Hugo spoke up. “The Guardianship of the Treasury has been the responsibility of the House of Sarkany for years without number. We will of course do our duty.” He turned to Hector. “It would be our great pleasure to deal w
ith the Duke’s assassin.”

  Lindorm inclined his head. “Sarkany and I will discuss our trap in private, gentlemen. I will inform you as soon as we make any progress in this matter.” He turned to Roland. “High Marshal, I move this meeting be adjourned.”

  “All in favor, say ‘Aye,’” Roland said obediently, his eyes sparkling.

  “Aye,” said the other four dragons.

  “The Ayes have it,” drawled Roland.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Tell me, Hugo, do you ever think about having the Duchy of Balaur reinstated?” Lindorm leaned back with his glass of brandy and contemplated his guest benevolently.

  Silence greeted his remark. The three Lindorms occupying the chairs in front of Lindorm’s desk exchanged looks. Lord Sarkany shot a look at Lindorm’s heir, Lord Sven, who was occupying the wing chair beside his own and looking as bland as six foot eight of Viking warrior could look. Not that Sven affected the barbaric appearance of his forebears. His thick blond hair was cut close to his scalp and his face was clean shaven. He was dressed in an elegant dinner suit as they all were. And yet an aura of ruthless power lingered around him.

  Lord Severn was much the same age as his nephew and looked just as tough. He was sipping brandy across from Hugo, looking vexed and impatient. Lindorm was the only one who seemed to be enjoying himself. He had taken the big, comfortable chair behind his desk instead of joining them in the seating area.

  Hugo decided he had let the silence linger long enough. “We only contemplate the disgrace on long winter nights, sir. The Duchy was dissolved two hundred and thirty-seven years and eight months ago — but we don’t often dwell on the loss.”

  “Of course not,” Thorvald Lindorm’s voice was dry. “Your House is not in the least bitter at the loss of the duchy.”

  “The last Grand Duke Balaur was killed as were his sons and grandsons. There was no heir in the direct line to the dukedom,” Hugo said in a hard voice. “It was only natural that the Council should decide that only the titles of Count Sarkany and Baron Balaur should pass to Lajos Sarkany’s third cousin.”

  “Your esteemed great-great-great-grandfather,” prompted Lindorm.

  “As you say, sir, my great-great-great-grandfather.”

  “Dragons are long lived, and have longer memories.” Severn quoted the old proverb calmly.

  “Indeed,” said Hugo. “May I ask you gentlemen, what has prompted this line of questioning?”

  “I have been looking at our family records, Hugo, and I find that my forebears were hazy on the details of why Lajos and his entire family was extirpated.”

  “Whereas, we haven’t any family records to speak of,” Hugo responded. “When the Soviets shelled the Castle Sarkany, the muniments room was a casualty. Everything burned. But, as you know, dragon history is traditionally oral, and we have not forgotten ours.” Hugo managed a grim smile. “I believe Lajos Sarkany was guilty of clinging to Catholicism in the face of a superior Protestant force.”

  “Ah,” rejoined both Sven and his father without surprise.

  “We became Lutherans when King Gustav told us to in 1536,” said Thorvald magisterially.

  Hugo inclined his head. “We let the Reformation pass us by and stuck with the religion of our fathers.” He laughed mirthlessly. “For all the good it did the Grand Duke. But Lajos’s misfortune was the great good fortune of our branch of the Sarkanys. We held no title until he and his were wiped out.”

  “That’s so,” Severn said.

  “And this interests you, Lord Lindorm, for what reason?” Hugo allowed his voice to grow colder.

  “What would you be willing to do to regain the Duchy of Balaur?” asked Thorvald.

  Hugo stared. “The Duchy is gone forever. The lands have been in the possession of countless others for centuries. There is no duchy to regain, sir.”

  “There is the title, surely?” said Severn.

  Hugo shrugged. “The title is an empty honor without the lands and hoard that went with it,” he lied. He looked between his three allies and his eyes narrowed skeptically.

  Sven laughed. “Give it up, Papa,” he said genially. “Hugo will not be frank with us until we are frank with him.”

  “I came in here,” Hugo said icily, “To discuss the baiting of a trap to catch a murderous thief. I suggest we stick to our agenda.”

  “The two matters are not unconnected, my friend,” Lindorm returned. “I am proposing that if your brother Ivan catches our thief, that the House of Lindorm will see the Council restores the Duchy of Balaur — to your brother.”

  Hugo raised his eyebrows haughtily. “Guardianship of the Treasury was entrusted to our House,” he said. “Moreover, the House von Bulow is united in long friendship with ours. As I said this afternoon, bringing the murderer of Prinze Reinhardt to justice would be both a pleasure and an honor. Ivan needs no bribe to do his duty. Whatever is required, he will do and gladly.”

  “Then let us say, Hugo, that it would be the great honor of the House of Lindorm to oblige the House of Sarkany by restoring its former glories and elevating Lord Ivan to Grand Duke of Balaur.”

  “Alas, sir, that will not be possible. The Seal of the Sarkanys has been lost,” Hugo confessed.

  “Then it will have to be found,” Lindorm announced with unruffled calm.

  * * *

  Ivan was relieved to finally be summoned to Lord Lindorm’s study. He hoped that Lindorm had not already discovered out that he and Christina had been carrying on. If he had, undoubtedly he would want an explanation before he slaughtered Ivan. The fact that Ivan had been trying to make a clean breast of it for days, was probably not going to impress his host much.

  Ivan had nothing but respect for the Lindorms. The House of Sarkany had been joined in friendship to the House of Lindorm for hundreds of years. Lord Lindorm was not just the Eldest of his house. He was a great warrior and a wise councillor. And Severn was as big and mighty as his brother. What could he say to these allies with whose woman he had trifled?

  He did not have the smallest idea how he could excuse his actions. ‘She tempted me,’ sounded unlikely and weak – even to him. And he knew that being near Christina did in fact fry his brains.

  “You wished to see me, Ivan?” Lindorm asked genially.

  Ivan bowed. He glanced around the room which seemed to have far too many large men in it: Lord Severn, Lord Sven, his brother, and Lord Lindorm. “I had hoped to speak to you alone, sir.”

  “What you have to say, can best be said before us all,” Lindorm responded heartily.

  Ivan bowed again.

  “Sit down and join us,” invited Lindorm.

  Ivan sat down and waited for the battle-ax to fall. He looked at Lindorm’s gray eyes, the implacable set of that big face, the bristling brows. Yup, Lindorm knew. He fucking knew. Ivan glanced at Sven and Severn’s predatory eyes. For a heartbeat Ivan wondered if he was going to be forced to marry the delectable Christina.

  He tried to speak but nothing emerged. He was no coward. He cleared his throat. “I wish,” he began in a voice an octave higher than normal. “To claim the Lady Christina of Severn as my mate.”

  His audacious words hung in the air. Hugo opened his eyes wide. Sven smoothed his upper lip. Severn glowered at him. Lindorm smiled genially. Ivan’s blood froze at the sight of Thorvald Lindorm’s curving mouth. Ice touched his spine.

  “Christina of Severn is promised to another,” said Lindorm flatly. “She is not yours to claim.”

  “I challenge any dragon who says he has set his mark on my mate,” Ivan was pleased to observe that his bass was restored.

  “Fuck that,” said Sven. “The girl is spoken for.” His glower intensified.

  “I am prepared to fight for her,” Ivan said mildly.

  Hugo covered his eyes and shook his head. Was he in despair, or laughing?

  Ivan stood and pulled at the ends of his bow tie and slowly unbuttoned his pleated shirt. He pulled the edges away from his chest and neck and t
ouched the flaming bruise Christina had given him. “She has marked me,” he said politely. “She is mine.”

  Severn rose and slapped his face. Ivan took a step back and bunched a fist before he caught himself. He stepped forward again. Severn slapped the other cheek. “You boast of having had my daughter!”

  “She is mine,” Ivan repeated. He was doomed. Hugo put a hand on Sven’s arm and kept him in his chair. Severn looked like he wanted to do more than slap Ivan’s face. He was so fucking screwed.

  “I have promised her,” Lindorm said as gently as if the tranquility of his study had never been disturbed. “To Lord Felipe Balcazar Mendez.”

  “And yet,” said Ivan holding Severn’s arms tightly to prevent his beloved’s father from strangling him, “I claim Christina by right of capture!”

  Severn broke free of Ivan’s hands and fastened his own large hands around Ivan’s neck and squeezed. Ivan thrust at Severn’s forearms. Was Hugo just going to watch as his only brother was throttled? Lindorm spoke, “As greatly as he deserves your displeasure, Severn, I prefer that Ivan live.”

  Severn released him and sat down heavily, his face black with rage.

  “Thank you, Severn. You will have opportunity for private speech with Lord Ivan later.” Lindorm promised. “Lord Felipe has the prior claim. Lord Ivan’s is, however, the more traditional avowal. We can settle this matter by making Christina the prize in a contest, or we can let these two dragons duel for her hand. I invite your opinions.”

  Hugo’s face was puce. He coughed. “Gentlemen,” he said. “May I speak to my brother alone?”

  Lindorm shook his head. “Keep your seat, Sarkany. Christina of Severn is a dragoness born. Ivan has staked his claim to the Treasure of our House, and she must be paid for. More than that, I had long since reserved her for the heir to the Duke of Estremaura. What is Lord Ivan compared to Felipe of Estremaura?”

  “He may not have a title, but he seems to have won the damsel,” Hugo said. He was still struggling with some emotion and his face was still very red.

  Severn made a guttural comment that Ivan translated as a threat. He was one done dragon. Walking dead meat.