“I have objected to some of his recent plans, but I can’t imagine…” Seth trails off, his face turning gray in the dim light.
“Why did you want to speak to Seth in person?” I ask, frowning.
“Rumors have been swirling for months that your uncle intends to overthrow the council and declare himself sole ruler of the Provinces. When I received hard evidence that he’d ordered quixone on the black market, I figured he intended to make his move soon.”
Seth gives a crack of laughter. “Meanwhile, Tor is concerned that you’re breeding dragons and intend to wreak havoc with black magic.”
Adrian shrugs. “I’m telling you the truth. Who you choose to believe is for you to decide.”
“You’ll have to work a little harder to convince me you’re not lying.”
“Perhaps this will help.” Adrian removes a piece of rolled up parchment from the folds of his fur robe.
Seth snatches it from his fingers and unrolls it.
“It’s those symbols again,” I say excitedly. “The ones on the dragons.”
“I’d like you to deliver this parchment to your uncle Boru,” Adrian says.
“He’ll be able to decipher the symbols, even without the aid of a dragon. It’s a plan and suggested meeting place for us to unite in battle against Tor.”
Seth rubs his jaw. “I need more information before I can commit to this. Tor and I have had our issues, but I can’t believe he’d kill his own people.”
“You do believe it,” I say gently, “you just want to be sure.”
He stares into the flames of the fire but does not reply.
“I’ll need your answer within a fortnight, Seth. That should give you enough time to check up on my story.”
“All right,” Seth says finally, “but if this is a trick, I’ll come back here with an entire army and quixone the fuck out of you.”
Adrian laughs. “I’d expect nothing less.”
“My uncle sent soldiers to shadow us. They’ll want to know why we haven’t brought you with us.”
“If you’re referring to Bran Cullen and his merry men, my lookouts say they’re snowed in over on Slieve Donard. They picked the wrong mountain to climb.” Adrian smirks. “I’m betting your uncle regrets banning mobile communications after this little fuck up.”
“How are we to travel back to the Fifty?” I ask. “Seth says the storm will have turned the mountain into a solid sheet of ice.”
Seth answers before Adrian can. “By dragon, of course.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SETH
Fifteen minutes later, we’re packed and ready to leave. Langley is loaning us three of his dragons for the journey. I don’t trust the man, but I’m no fool. Tor’s recent actions have made me wonder more than once just how far he’s prepared to go to exert his influence. I need to check up on Langley’s story before I hand him over to Fianna’s executioner.
Ashling strokes her dragon’s nose and whispers something in its ear. She’s a pretty girl with her mother’s ebony hair and my green eyes. Once she grows into her features, she’ll be stunning.
I clear my throat. “Do you and Mister Cuddles want a hand up?”
She looks at me with the shuttered expression I’ve spent years perfecting and shifts the cat cage to one side. “All right.”
Communication, however cursory, is a start. We have many years to make up, for but I’m determined we’ll do it—at the pace of her choosing.
When Ashling is mounted, I turn to Lia. I want to banish the shadows under her eyes and offer her the stars.
“I don’t want what happened today to be a one-off,” I begin carefully. “I want to be a part of your life.”
“I want that too,” she whispers, “but there’s a civil war coming, one way or another.”
I drop a kiss onto her rosebud lips. “Then let’s go home and fight it together.”
—THANKS FOR READING FORGED IN FIRE. SETH AND LIA'S CONTINUES IN FORGED IN ICE, OUT 2016.—
•If you haven’t read the first book in my Irish contemporary romance series, you can download Love and Shenanigans for FREE on all the major ebook stores.
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Zara Keane grew up in Dublin, Ireland, but spent her summers in a small town very similar to the fictional Ballybeg.
She currently lives in Switzerland with her family. When she’s not writing or wrestling small people, she drinks far too much coffee, and tries – with occasional success – to resist the siren call of Swiss chocolate.
The Celtic Dragons series continues with Forged in Ice and Forged in Steel, both out in 2016.
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To Love A Highland Dragon
Dragon Lore, Book One
By Ann Gimpel
Heat level 3: Highland Dragons
Tumble off reality’s edge into myth, magic, and Scottish dragon shifters.
A dragon shifter stirs and wakens in a cave beneath Inverness, deep in the Scottish Highlands. The cave’s the same and his hoard intact, yet something’s badly amiss. Determined to set whatever’s gone wrong to rights, Lachlan Moncrieffe ventures above ground—and wishes he hadn’t. His castle’s gone, replaced by ungainly row houses. Men aren’t wearing plaids, and women scarcely wear anything at all, particularly the woman who accosts him with unseemly banter. What manner of wench is she to dress so provocatively?
In Inverness for a year on a psychiatry fellowship, Dr. Maggie Hibbins watches an oddly dressed man pick his way out of a heather and gorse thicket. Even though it runs counter to her better judgment, she teases him about his strange attire. He looks so lost—and so unbelievably, knock-out gorgeous—she takes a chance and stands him a meal. Lachlan’s shock when he picks up a local newspaper at a pub is so palpable, Maggie jumps in with both feet.
She knew something was off, but the hard-to-accept truth bashes gaping holes in her equilibrium. He looks odd, sounds odd, acts odd because he’s a refugee from another era. Her half-baked seduction scheme takes a hike, but her carefully constructed life is still about to change forever. Born of powerful witches, Maggie runs headlong into the myth and magic that are her birthright.
Book Description, To Love a Highland Dragon:
A dragon shifter stirs and wakens in a cave beneath Inverness, deep in the Scottish Highlands. The cave’s the same and his hoard intact, yet something’s badly amiss. Determined to set whatever’s gone wrong to rights, Lachlan Moncrieffe ventures above ground—and wishes he hadn’t. His castle’s gone, replaced by ungainly row houses. Men aren’t wearing plaids, and women scarcely wear anything at all, particularly the woman who accosts him with unseemly banter. What manner of wench is she to dress so provocatively?
In Inverness for a year on a psychiatry fellowship, Dr. Maggie Hibbins watches an oddly dressed man pick his way out of a heather and gorse thicket. Even though it runs counter to her better judgment, she teases him about his strange attire. He looks so lost—and so unbelievably, knock-out gorgeous—she takes a chance and stands him a meal. Lachlan’s shock when he picks up a local newspaper at a pub is so palpable, Maggie jumps in with both feet.
She knew something was off, but the hard-to-accept truth bashes gaping holes in her equilibrium. He looks odd, sounds odd, acts odd because he’s a refugee from another era. Her half-baked seduction scheme takes a hike, but her carefully constructed life is still about to change forever. Born of powerful witches, Maggie runs headlong into the myth and magic that are her birthright.
Reader praise for To Love a Highland Dragon:
Awesome story! Ann Gimpel
is truly one of a kind when it comes to fantasy.
Yet again, this talented author has written a book that’s a delight to read. The writing flows so easily that it would be a crying shame to miss it. Definitely recommended.
In particular, I loved the hero, Lachlan, and his dragon-dually, Kheladin. His voice was really well done, especially his accent, which I heart as I read. It takes an impressive amount of skill to write a dialect so well.
Humorous and original with steamy characters. The writing was wonderfully done. Small bits of quirk and humor were slipped in as Lachlan learned our world and it was entertaining. The plot moved forward at a nice pace, and the connections made in the story were believable and easy to immerse into the world created.—Book Bliss Blog
A great paranormal romance. I really loved this book. The story line was great and easy to follow with a couple of nice twists and turns to keep you on your toes.
Highland Magic. This is the first book of Ann Gimpel’s that I’ve read and I’ve not been disappointed. The characters are very vivid and endearing. I’m usually one who can see what’s coming next, however Ann has really surprised me with her twists and turns. This book was pure heaven to read, had me hooked from the start.
To Love a Highland Dragon was a mix of two of my favorite fictions elements—hunky Highlanders and shapeshifters, specifically dragon shifters. I absolutely adored Lachlan, Maggie, and the dragon, Kheladin.
I’m not big on time travel books, but this one I loved. It was awesome to read about the different levels of love between the characters.
I’ve never read a dragon shifter book before, and didn’t know if I would like it, but this is one of those stories that carries you on a wave so wonderful you just don’t want to get off.
Books in the Dragon Lore Series:
Highland Secrets, Prequel
To Love a Highland Dragon, Book One
Dragon Maid, Book Two
Dragon’s Dare, Book Three
Chapter One
Kheladin listened to the rush of blood as his multi-chambered heart pumped. After eons of nothingness, the unexpected sound surprised him. A cool, sandy floor pressed against his scaled haunches. One whirling eye flickered open, followed by the other.
Where am I?
He peered at his surroundings and blew out a sigh, followed by steam, smoke, and fire.
Thanks be to Dewi—Kheladin invoked the blood-red Celtic dragon goddess—I’m still in my cave. It smelled right, but I wasna certain.
He rotated his serpent’s head atop his long, sinuous neck. Vertebrae cracked. Kheladin lowered his head and scanned the place he and Lachlan, his human bondmate, had barricaded themselves into. It might’ve only been days ago, but somehow, it didn’t seem like days, or even months or a few years. His body felt rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in centuries.
How long did I sleep?
He shook his head. Copper scales flew everywhere, clanking against a pile littered around him. More than anything, the glittery heap reinforced his belief he’d been asleep for a very long time. Dragons shed their scales annually. From the amount circling his body, he’d gone through hundreds of molt cycles. But how? The last thing he remembered was retreating to his cave far beneath Lachlan’s castle and working with the mage to construct strong wards.
Had the black wyvern grown powerful enough to force his magic into the very heart of Kheladin’s fortress?
If that’s true—if we really were his prisoner, why’d I finally waken? Is Lachlan still within me?
Stop! I have to take things one at a time.
He returned his gaze to the nooks and crannies of his spacious cave. He’d have to take inventory, but it appeared his treasure hadn’t been disturbed. Kheladin blew a plume of steam upward, followed by an experimental gout of fire. The black wyvern, his sworn enemy since before the Crusades, may have bested him, but he hadn’t gotten his slimy talons on any of Kheladin’s gold or jewels.
He shook out his back feet and shuffled to the pool at one end of the cave where he dipped his snout and drank deeply. The water didn’t taste right. It wasn’t poisoned, but it held an undercurrent of metals that had never been there before. Kheladin rolled the liquid around in his mouth. He didn’t recognize much of what he tasted, but he was thirsty and it seemed safe enough, so he drank some more.
The flavors aren’t familiar because I’ve been asleep for so long. Aye, that must be it. Part of his mind recoiled; he suspected he was deluding himself.
“We’re awake.” Lachlan’s voice hummed in the dragon’s mind.
“Aye, that we are.”
“How long did we sleep?”
“I doona know.” Water streamed down the dragon’s snout and neck. He knew what would come next, and he didn’t have to wait long.
“Let’s shift. We think better in my body.” Lachlan urged Kheladin to cede ascendency.
“I doona agree.” Kheladin pushed back. “I was figuring things out afore ye woke.”
“Aye, I’m certain ye were, but…” But what? “Och aye, my brain is thick and fuzzy, as if I havena used it for a verra long time.”
“Mine feels the same.”
The bond allowed only one form at a time. Since they were in Kheladin’s body, he had the upper hand. Lachlan wasn’t strong enough to force a shift without his help. There’d been a time when he could have but not now.
Was it safe to venture above ground?
Kheladin recalled the last day he’d seen the sun. After a vicious battle in the great room of Lachlan’s castle, they’d retreated to his cave and taken their dragon form as a final resort. Rhukon, the black wyvern, pretended he wanted peace. He’d come with an envoy that turned out to be a retinue of heavily armed men.
Both he and Lachlan expected Rhukon to follow them underground. Kheladin’s last thought, before nothingness descended, was disbelief because their enemy hadn’t pursued them.
Humph. He did come after us but with magic. Magic strong enough to penetrate our wards.
“Aye, and I was thinking the same thing,” Lachlan sniped in a vexed tone.
“We trusted him,” Kheladin snarled. “More the fools we were. We should’ve known.” Despite drinking, his throat was still raw. He sucked more water down and fought rising anger at himself for being gullible. Even if Lachlan hadn’t known better, he should’ve. His stomach cramped from hunger.
Kheladin debated the wisdom of making his way through the warren of tunnels leading to the surface in dragon form. There were always far more humans than dragons. Mayhap it would be wiser to accede to Lachlan’s wishes before they crept from their underground lair to rejoin the world of men.
“Grand idea.” Lachlan’s response was instantaneous, as was his first stab at shifting.
It took half a dozen attempts. Kheladin was far weaker than he imagined and Lachlan so feeble he was almost an impediment. Finally, once a shower of scales cleared, Lachlan’s emaciated body stood barefoot and naked in the cave.
****
Lacking the sharp night vision he enjoyed as a dragon, because his magic was so diminished, Lachlan kindled a mage light and glanced down at himself. Ribs pressed against his flesh, and a full beard extended halfway down his chest. Turning his head to both sides, he saw shoulder blades so sharp he was surprised they didn’t puncture his skin. Tawny hair fell in tangles past his waist. The only thing he couldn’t see was his eyes. Absent a glass, he was certain they were the same crystal-clear emerald color they’d always been.
He stumbled across the cave to a chest where he kept clothing. Dragons didn’t need such silly accoutrements; humans did. He sucked in a harsh breath. The wooden chest was falling to ruin. He tilted the lid against a wall, but it canted to one side. Many of his clothes had moldered into unusable rags, but items toward the bottom fared better. He found a cream-colored linen shirt with long, flowing sleeves, a black and green plaid embroidered with the insignia of his house—a dragon in flight—and soft, deerskin boots that laced to his knees.
“Good God, but I must look a fright,” he muttered. “Mayhap I can sneak into the castle and set things aright afore anyone sees me. Surely my kinsmen will be glad the master of the house has finally returned.”
Lachlan worked on bolstering a confidence he was far from feeling. He’d nearly made it to the end of the cave, where a rock-strewn path led upward, when he doubled back to get a sword and scabbard—just in case things weren’t as sanguine as he hoped. He located a thigh sheath and a short dagger as well, fumbling to attach them beneath his kilt. Underway once again, he hadn’t made it very far along the upward-sloping tunnel that ended at a well-hidden opening not far from the postern gate of his castle, when he ran into rocks littering the way.
He worked his way around progressively larger boulders until he came to a huge one that totally blocked the passageway. Lachlan stared at it in disbelief. When had that happened? In all the time he’d been using these paths, they’d never been blocked by rock fall. If he weren’t so weak, summoning magic to shove the rock over enough to allow him to pass wouldn’t be a problem. As it was, simply walking uphill proved a challenge.
He pinched the bridge of his nose between a grimy thumb and forefinger. His mage light weakened.
If I can’t even keep a light going, how in the goddess’s name will I be able to move that rock?
Lachlan hunkered next to the boulder and let his light die while he ran possibilities through his head. His stomach growled and clenched in hunger. Had he come through however much time had passed to cower like a dog in his own cave?
Flight of Dragons Page 42
