“I thought you wanted to talk,” she said her voice high.
“I do.”
“Then maybe we should go downstairs… Maybe coffee.”
“You do not need caffeine in your system,” George insisted.
“I’m not so sure.” She took a step back, heading for the stairs.
“Poppy, that is not a request,” he said, and kicked the door open, while not taking his eyes off her.
Poppy stood her ground, but his unwavering stare made her realize this was not a battle she was going to win. With a sigh, she walked towards him, slipping past him into his bedroom. Her body heated up at the thought of what was going to happen between them. All those sleepless nights spent dreaming of his hands on her body, his mouth kissing her, tongue licking her… She blushed at those thoughts, a tremor of desire passing through her.
She wanted him. She could no more deny that knowledge than she could deny the love she felt for Charlie.
“Why did you come here?” George asked.
“I told you. We need your help.” She sighed. “We need your protection.”
“From who?” George asked.
There he had her. If she told him whom she was running from, she would also have to reveal whom she stole the dagger for. The whole shameful story would pour out of her mouth.
“You want me to protect you, but you won’t tell me who from?” George asked.
“Does it matter who it is?” she asked.
He snorted and turned away, shaking his head. “It does to me. And I thought you actually wanted to protect the child. But not as much as you want to protect yourself.” He turned back to her, his eyes flashing green. “Or do you protect a lover?”
“No,” she said hoarsely, full of shame. Shame for wanting to protect her brother from this man before her, despite the way he had betrayed her. And why? Because she had promised their parents she always would, and she hated breaking promises. Yet her loyalty was misplaced.
George raked his hand through his hair, and turned from her, heading out of the door. “Bathe, and then sleep. We will speak of this in the morning. I hope you use the time to think about whose side you are truly on. If not, I may have to think carefully about keeping you under the same roof as my son.”
His words cut her deeply. George Lancaster was going to make her choose. Her son and his father, or her brother. There would be no contest. Poppy was sure they both knew that.
The door closed behind him, and she stood in the middle of the room, listening to the sounds of the house. Then she went to the bathroom and filled the bath with hot water. She could not remember the last time she had sat in a bath full of water; on the mountain all water had to be carried from the water pump and heated on an open fire. She had soon got used to washing in minimal amounts of water.
But tonight, she was going to spoil herself. Poppy closed her eyes and let go of all her thoughts and fears. She would take everything as it came, one moment at a time.
Getting out of the bath, she dried herself off and went back into the bedroom, expecting to find him there. When he wasn’t, she experienced an inexplicable wave of disappointment.
Hoping he wouldn’t mind her borrowing his clothes, she went to his closet and took out a large T-shirt. With it nearly reaching her knees, and her damp hair hanging around her shoulders, she left the bedroom and tip-toed down the hallway to check on Charlie.
She stood in the doorway and listened to his breathing: it was so familiar, so comforting. Hoping she had made the right decision to come here, and still trying to figure out how her mountain refuge had been discovered, she padded back to George’s bedroom and slipped into his bed.
Sleep took her, but somewhere in her dreams, he was there, holding her tenderly. If only that could be her reality, instead of the man who looked at her as if she were the worst person on Earth.
Which, to him, she was.
Chapter Six – George
He’d risked being seen, and released his dragon to fly over the city. He’d climbed almost vertically to get above the scattered clouds, and then hid behind them, drifting along towards the coast before crossing out over the ocean and flying hard, wings flapping, heart pumping, lungs burning with the effort, but it had cleared his head and allowed him to put everything in perspective.
She was in his life. That was all that mattered. That and the child she had brought with her. No matter how much he wanted to force her to tell him everything, the look on her face told him it was not that easy. She had secrets, secrets that might put her or the boy in danger. He would give her time. Time to learn to trust him, time to figure out for herself what his motives were.
And what are our motives, his dragon asked.
To make another child with her. To make her want to stay. To make her want to be our mate forever.
His dragon soared higher and then turned to spin towards the water, pulling up at the last moment, the tips of his wings flicking spray up into the air. His dragon kept low, skimming the water, only rising back up into the clouds when he neared land.
He landed in the grounds of his mansion, and looked around. One thing he did need to find out from her was how the hell had she wound up in his bedroom. The walls were impenetrable, with motion sensors on top of sharp rock that jutted upwards. The gate was the only weak point, but no one had ever climbed over it before. What made it more surprising was that Poppy had managed to enter the house with a child in tow. A small child, who unless he had turned into a small dragon and flew, would not have been able to climb over the walls without her carrying him.
Stalking back to the house, he let himself in and reset the alarm. Tomorrow he would question her, and then put new measures in place to ensure no one else entered the grounds the same way. He sighed. Putting guards on patrol in the grounds might also have to be considered. It was something he had resisted, since it made flying as his dragon harder. But Poppy and Charlie’s safety was more important than nighttime flying.
His dragon reluctantly agreed. They were going to have to be careful until they figured out what was going on. He would also have to tread lightly around the investigation he had launched. George was certain this was what had triggered Poppy turning up in his bedroom today. He simply needed to put all the pieces together, and make her see that bringing down whoever was out to hurt her and Charlie should be the top of their priorities.
Walking quietly up the stairs, George mused over this thought. Charlie was obviously Poppy’s top priority, and yet she was unwilling to share any information with him that might lead him to the Heartsfire Blade. What would be so important to her that she would risk her son’s safety?
A promise, his dragon rumbled.
A promise? George asked.
She made us a promise, a promise that she won’t break, I’m certain.
His dragon usually had good senses when it came to people; he had hundreds of years’ experience dealing with liars and cheats, after all. You think she made a promise to someone, one that she is not willing to break?
It is plausible. His dragon lay down and closed his eyes, content now that they had stretched his wings. It should be easy to discover what that promise might be.
Of course, because now they had her name. He could dig into her past, and pull up all her skeletons, of which there were many, he was sure.
But that could wait until tomorrow. He needed to sleep, and he also needed to check that she was still here. Part of him was scared he would open his bedroom door and find her gone. Or that she had never been there, and that Poppy and Charlie were a vision he had dredged up in a bid to put a stop to his longing.
However, he knew she was real before he opened the door. He knew she was still there before he set eyes on her. He could sense her, his body attuned to hers, and an ache for her sprung up in his loins. Sleep might evade him after all.
He took off his clothes, and lay down in the bed next to her, noting she wore one of his T-shirts and wondering if she had spent the time he was out r
ummaging through all his personal items, both in here and in the rest of the house. It did not matter: whatever she found would not leave the mansion, because if he had his way, Poppy would never leave the mansion. Not ever.
He knew it was unreasonable, but as he pulled her body against his, wrapping his arms around her curvy body and inhaling her sweet scent, he knew he would chain her to his bed rather than let her leave his life once more. His hand cupped her breast, and his thumb chafed against her nipple, and she stirred in his arms, muttering something about dragons.
George smiled and closed his eyes. In the morning, he would wake her and show her exactly what he had been dreaming about all these years. He would claim her as he had longed to claim her since that solitary night they spent together.
And he was certain she would not put up a fight. He’d watched her closely, watched how her body responded to his looks, how her face flushed pink and how she secretly looked at him with open lust. Oh yes. He was sure she was his, she just did not want to admit it yet.
But perhaps a few nights in his bed, a few nights of having him inside her, a few hours of having his body worshiping hers, might just make her admit she wanted him too.
And who knew, maybe one day she would admit she loved him.
A dragon could dream.
Chapter Seven – Poppy
Poppy woke up. In the arms of George Lancaster.
As she lay there with her eyes half open, she tried to figure out how she felt about that. For one, she had always considered herself a light sleeper. Living in the cabin, she had always been easily awoken by noises outside. It was a self-preservation mechanism that had served her well. So how he had entered the room, undressed—and she knew for a fact he was naked under the sheets—and climbed into bed with her, all without waking her up, was worrying. It hit her ego for a loop.
Poppy Madison had lost her touch. All in a matter of eight hours.
And then there was the other thing. The thing that was nestled against her back, the thing that she wanted inside her. She closed her eyes and tried to get rid of the naughty thoughts that were inside her head. If she wriggled back on him, would he wake up, would he make love to her? Her stomach flipped at that idea, and heat flared in her core. She truly was a lost cause.
But only around George Lancaster. She hadn’t been with another man since that night, even in the months that followed, when she had no idea she was pregnant with his child. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t taken precautions when she had sex with George. She wasn’t that stupid or naive, and yet here she was five years later.
In his bed once more, her inner voice teased her.
Yes, in his bed once more. In his arms. And completely lost to a man who didn’t trust her, and with every good reason. All she had to do was open her mouth and tell him about her brother. Tell him she stole the blade in return for her younger brother’s safety. Her brother, whom she had promised her parents she would look after when they went on vacation, and never came back.
They had gone on a cruise off the island where they were staying, when a storm hit and the boat went down. No trace of them was ever found, their watery grave lost forever. What other choice did she have than to keep that promise? She was a woman of her word, in everything she did. Not only with friends and family, but in business too, which was why she was so well thought of and held in high regard.
Until that one fateful night. When she lost all reason, after her brother got himself into trouble. Her life had ended that day. Until the first stirring in her belly that told her she was carrying a new life inside her. A second chance.
“Are you awake?” George asked, his breath caressing her neck.
“Yes.” She’d promised not to lie to him, but it would be so much easier to lie here with her eyes closed and pretend she had not heard the rumble of his voice.
“I have to go to work today. I should familiarize you with the house, and introduce you to Alfie.” With that he unwrapped his arms from her body and slipped out of bed. It took all her resolve not to turn over and watch him. Instead, she closed her eyes and imagined.
His tall, broad frame, covered in golden skin, pulled taut over rippling muscles. Damn, this was torture.
Poppy slipped out of bed. Keeping her back to Gorge, she reached for her clothes. They had been clean four days ago; now they were dirty, and smelly. However, walking around in George’s T-shirt and nothing else was not an option, especially since she was about to meet Alfie, whoever that was. George did not seem to be a pet dog or cat kind-of-a-guy, so Poppy assumed Alfie was like a housekeeper.
Or a lover! What if George was gay, or bisexual!
She squashed that thought flat. There was no way Poppy was sharing a man with anyone, man or woman.
“Will the boy be awake?” George asked, as he opened his closet.
“Charlie. He has a name,” Poppy said.
A pause in George’s movements. “A good name. Why did you choose it?”
Poppy didn’t pause; she pulled on her mud-stained jeans as she spoke. “I liked it. Why else do you give a child a name?” she asked flippantly. He didn’t need to know that she had obsessed over George Lancaster all through her pregnancy and named her child after his father.
“Why indeed?” George asked and closed his closet.
Poppy wrestled her bra on under her T-shirt, and decided she might just as well keep it on. Only because her shirt was dirty and torn. Not because she wanted anything of George Lancaster’s next to her skin. Loser, she told herself. Which described her perfectly. She had lost everything because of her brother, and she was about to do the same again, unless she was open with George.
She sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. Tonight she was going to come clean and tell him everything. It would give her time to get her story straight, try to make him understand her motives. And if he went after Brax? So be it. She was done protecting him at the expense of herself and her family. A family that now included George Lancaster, whether she liked it or not. He was the father of her child, and that had to be more important than her wayward brother.
Brax had made his choices. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to conjure up the image of the men in the mountain. He’d been there. She was sure of it. Up until now she had tried to persuade herself it could not have been him. But in truth, she knew it was. He was still wrapped up in all this, and still willing to use her for his own ends. But how had they found her?
Poppy looked down at the ring on her finger, the only item of jewelry she possessed. It was their mother’s ring. She twisted it around. Brax was supposed to give it to his fiancée whenever he found her. Instead, after the Heartsfire Blade incident, he had given it to Poppy, told her he was sure Mom would have wanted her to have it. They both knew that wasn’t true. They both knew Brax had always been their parents’ favorite. But Poppy had been desperate for the sentiment to mean something.
She pulled it off her finger as far as the knuckle; it was time to let go of that part of her life. “Poppy,” George barked, and she pushed the ring back on her finger.
“Yes?” she asked, her brain foggy with the past as she looked at him.
“Are you all right?” He frowned at her, and she realized she had been sitting here frozen in her thoughts.
“Yes,” she said, and got up. “Do you mind if I keep your T-shirt on?”
“No.” His eyes roamed her body, and her insides squirmed, but she fought for control. She was so weak-willed, she was in danger of transferring her love and loyalty to the first person who came along who might fill the void inside her where a loving family should live. But she doubted George Lancaster had any more intention of loving her than Brax, or her parents.
She longed for Charlie to be in her arms, to kiss his precious head and inhale the scent of him. “I’m going to check on Charlie,” she said, and stumbled out of the room.
He watched her go; she could feel his eyes boring into her back, but she did not look back. Whatever game George Lancaster was playi
ng, she wanted nothing to do with it. She would live here with him, she would sleep in his bed. She would have sex with him… But she would keep her heart intact, and only open it to Charlie, or any other children George might put in her belly.
Chapter Eight – George
He watched her. His eyes fixed to her as she walked away. She was a woman in turmoil, fighting some internal dragon. His goal today was to find out what that dragon was. Or who? She was running from something, or someone, and he aimed to track them down and annihilate them.
His dragon stretched and flexed his claws. I haven’t had a good annihilation for years.
I don’t necessarily mean physically, George answered.
Pity, his dragon replied lazily, puffing smoke into the air.
George was a powerful man. A rich man. There were few who were untouchable to George Lancaster. He had made himself strong and powerful, all because of this woman.
He put his jacket on and adjusted his tie in the mirror. This was who he was now. So removed from the person who had seen a woman in a blue dress across the room.
He turned to look along the hallway as she reappeared, the child in her arms. He heard the boy’s sleepy voice, and his mate promise him breakfast. A smile flittered across George’s face, and something stirred in his chest that was not lust. It was something deeper, and not just a need to protect.
There, in the hallway, stood everything this man could ever need. They could strip away the money, and the power, and leave him with these two people, and he could be happy.
But squashing our enemies like a bug would be much more satisfying, his dragon rumbled.
“Good morning, Charlie,” George said gently to his son, who smiled shyly in return and hid his sleepy face in his mother’s neck.
The Billionaire Dragon's Secret Son (Howls Romance) Page 4
