The Dragon’s Treasure

by Caitlin Ricci

  She, Isabelle Falcone, had fallen for the Draconian prince.

  It was enough to bring a derisive laugh to her pale lips. It simply was not happening, could not be happening, and yet it was. Andrew had always called her rash and uncivilized. Well, she now found herself quite smitten with the son of the leader of the one group of people he thought to be the most uncivilized out of the bunch.

  Smitten seemed such a strange word for her to be using. It was much more her mother’s word when describing why the young ladies of the court acted so strangely. And Isabelle certainly did not think she was acting like someone had taken her mind. Any more than usual, she could hear Andrew’s soft voice teasing in her ear. She even missed him, she thought with a roll of her watery eyes.

  But back to Faolan, she thought with a mental shake. She wasn’t smitten, she decided. But she was loathe to call it love, especially when she had only been a bed partner to him.

  She slowly slid to the floor across the wall from that familiar wooden door. She was unaware of where she really was, and who could walk by at any moment. All she knew was that she had to sit, had to think, had to just be, at least for a moment.

  It was unfortunate then that Faolan found her a half hour later, fresh tears making their slow trek down her cheeks as she stared unblinkingly ahead at nothing in particular. Without saying a word, he sat down on the floor beside her, his warm shoulder pressing against hers.

  As soon as she felt the contact, she startled, her body going rigid next to him until she turned slightly and saw him staring ahead as well, his mouth formed into a pale line. She saw his dark eyes flash to hers uncertainly.

  She pressed herself more against him, letting out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

  They sat in comfortable silence, neither one of them willing to break it, fearing that the other would leave at the slightest word.

  Finally, it was Faolan who spoke. “Hello,” he said, sounding quite unsure of himself. She smiled wryly at him and he blushed gently.

  “Hey,” she replied back, just as softly.

  He smiled back. It was a boy’s smile, full of uncertainty and caring. She returned it and then turned back to the wall in front of her. On a whim, she lay her head on his shoulder. He didn’t move away.

  A warmth slowly curled in her chest, taking up silent residence just behind her ribs. She smiled softly. They would be alright, she told herself. Faolan cared.

  It was a full hour before either of them spoke again. And again, it was Faolan who took that much needed step.

  “I missed you,” he said hesitantly.

  “Me, too,” she readily admitted.

  His eyes widened at her braveness and then she was pleased to see his face relax even more into the ready gentleness she thought of being simply him. It was a face he seemed to reserve just for her and only when they were alone in his rooms.

  “If you want…I mean if you think it would be right…” he stammered, a warm blush forming over his cheeks. “Damn,” he said under his breath.

  Isabelle slowly slid her hand into his, giving his fingers an experimental squeeze of encouragement.

  It seemed to do the trick as Faolan looked at their entwined fingers resting on the cool stone floor, took a breath and started speaking again.

  “It was…rash of me to have you go to another room. I should have asked your opinion of the situation first,” he said slowly, his tongue seeming to trip over what she had decided was an apology of sorts.

  “Yes, you should have,” she said quickly.

  “I only just assumed, you see—”

  She turned fully to him, pulling their still linked hands onto her lap and looking him directly in his almost black eyes. “Never assume anything, please. I’m new at this, as I believe you are, too. I missed you, I just started thinking of this room as being mine as well. I didn’t want to leave you or it so soon.”

  “But lying next to me, sleeping with me, you couldn’t have enjoyed that. I’m a stranger to you after all,” he whispered, his voice broke several times as the realization seemed to fully enter his thoughts.

  “And I’m a stranger to you as well,” Isabelle continued on, hoping to push that uncertainty from his mind. This was what she wanted. She wanted to be with him, for how long or why she couldn’t even begin to guess at. But at that moment, being with him was all she wanted for herself in that small world they had built together.

  “But,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes. “I want to be with you, Faolan. I don’t want to go through this alone, not here. Please just let me have that.” Her voice started to crack. Faolan quickly pulled her to him, her body melting into his as he held her comfortably in his lap, his strong arms wrapping around her as she whispered nonsense into his chest.

  By the time the sun set that night, Isabelle was standing next to Faolan, her arm resting easily around his back as they watched the sun sinking slowly into the horizon before them. In the wardrobe, her dresses were neatly hung. Her few possessions that she had brought from Nuer lay below them in a built in drawer. It hadn’t taken long for her to move back in with Faolan, he only had to snap his fingers and the servants obeyed his orders without a second thought. Isabelle had readily protested, saying that she could easily move her things from one room to another with only a few trips at the most. It wouldn’t have taken her long at all.

  But Faolan would hear none of it. She was his wife, he had said, his bride, his princess. He had become possessive in that minute, his hand sliding easily around her middle to rest on the small of her back as he pulled her close. But his words, along with the sheer fiery intent that lay behind them, had sent a thrill down her spine. She had melted into him, prepared to accept anything he proposed as long as he continued looking at her that way. What a gullible sissy lass she had become. Even she was ashamed of how she had been forced to look down and away, blushing under his intense gaze.

  Her hand found his with the ease of an old couple. She squeezed his fingers, bringing his dark eyes to hers as she turned toward him, fascinated as the fading sunlight played against this black hair and reflected in his dark eyes, appearing almost as a fire within those black depths.

  She couldn’t resist him, she realized slowly. It had been a lost cause well before she had come back to their shared rooms. She wasn’t entirely sure when she had fallen so completely for him, perhaps it had been going on for a while now.

  All she knew now, standing next to him in the fading daylight, was that she most certainly could think of this as being the beginning tendrils of love. Strange, unnatural and wholly unexpected as it was, she had finally found love.

  About the Author

  Caitlin was fortunate growing up to be surrounded by family and teachers that encouraged her love of reading. She has always been a voracious reader and that love of the written word easily morphed into a passion for writing. If she isn’t writing, she can usually be found studying as she works toward her counseling degree. She comes from a military family and the men and women of the armed forces are close to her heart. She also enjoys gardening and horseback riding in the Colorado Rockies where she calls home with her wonderful fiancé and their dog. Her belief that there is no one true path to happily ever after runs deeply through all of her stories.

  www.CaitlinRicc.com