Dragon Heat (Dragons of Perralt Book 2) (4 page)

A sudden warmth passed through her as she grew aroused with need.

Slowly, her hands drifted to caress the insides of her legs then languorously travel up to her very core. She touched herself. Imagining it was Flint. Caressing, rubbing, seeking to give her release. She imagined his hands probing her. His long fingers teasing and pulling at her. His mouth on her breasts.

‘Yes,’ she thought as she rubbed faster and faster.

Higher, quicker. Ever onward. His hands were everywhere. His lips teasing and tasting. He was inside her. Yes. Please.

The animal inside of him was taking her. Commanding her. Pushing her. Bending her to his will. Always driving her upward.

She caressed and pressed her fingers into herself. Always thinking of him. Always him.

Yes, Yes.

Her world erupted with color, and she felt a wave of pure pleasure pass through her.

Yes, she thought as she relaxed into the water.

She drifted off into that in between world and relaxed. For the first time in years, she relaxed.

As the water cooled, an embarrassed shame passed over her. She’d barely known the man for an hour. He’d been an insufferable ass for most of it. And here she was, soaking in a bath, imagining him inside of her.

The man was impossible.

Eventually, the bath grew too cold to continue. Reluctantly, she exited the water, wrapping herself in a thick towel.

Stepping into her room, she saw the white cotton shirt and robe Mrs. Peabody had lain out on the bed for her.

Rubbing her hair dry. She paced back and forth. Should she wear them? If she did, she would be taking something from him. Would he expect something in return?

Her eyes drifted to the garments. This was a turning point, she thought. Put these on and you are set on a different path.

“It's only clothing,” she mumbled to herself. “It’s not like you’re accepting a treasure.”

Laila swallowed hard. It was his shirt. Obviously to be used as her night shift. The thought sent a warm tingle through her as she flashed back to the bath only moments earlier.

The robe looked as rich as a king’s purse. Red silk with a golden collar and belt. How could a person afford such things?

Sighing to herself, she slipped the cotton shirt on over her head. Rolling up the sleeves, she buried her face in the fabric. It was his, there was no doubt in her soul. She would know his things anywhere. Besides. Only his shoulders could have filled out the shirt.

The pure comfort and safe feeling it gave her made her want to cry.

Oh, to be safe. To be able to rest.

Donning the robe, she had to stifle a laugh. The garment swamped her. The man was a small mountain.

Again, she had to roll up the sleeves. The fine silk kissed the back of her calves with a gentle tickle that made her smile.

“It is only temporary,” she reminded herself. “Yes, but for how long?” The thought sent a cold worry through her. He could cast her aside any time he wanted.

She hadn’t thought about that. He could decide he didn’t need the coin. Or, more likely, he could come to the realization that there was no chance of her ever marrying a prince.

No, he would come to his senses at some point.

But, Laila, she reminded herself. Until then, you’ll sleep in a warm bed and have a full stomach. What more could a person want?

Her mind drifted to the big man, and she thought of what she wanted. Deep down inside, what she really needed to be happy.

Flint finished his tasks and turned for home. It had taken him most of the night to find out what he needed to know. If he was going to marry off Laila to a prince, he first had to find the prince.

His steps slowed as he approached his house. No, he hadn’t been avoiding her. He didn’t avoid women. Still, he hesitated. What was it about this woman that pulled at him?

He remembered their discussion about her new clothes. He didn’t care what she wore, as long as other men didn’t see her walking around in those pants. That ass of hers was too enticing to be displayed like that.

What had he agreed to do? It was impossible. The woman had a tongue on her that could lay a man bare, and a rebellious spirit that would make a sergeant of the guard quake in his boots.

Shaking his head, he continued home.

“Sharp,” he yelled, as he stepped through the door.

“Yes sir,” his butler responded immediately, stepping into the entrance way.

Flint handed him his gloves and coat and asked, “Our guest, how is she?”

“The dressmaker and Mrs. Peabody are with her now, sir.”

Flint nodded and accepted the glass of whiskey Sharp poured for him.

He began to pace back and forth as his mind thought over the past few years. How had he ended up here?

Exile, a burning desire to return home. Now, he had the perfect reason. All he had to do was get the coin. And to get that, all he had to do was find some stupid idiot prince to take Laila off his hands.

Finishing the whiskey, he poured himself another and continued to pace. He might very well have worn a path into his floor, but at that moment there was a slight knock at the study door.

Mrs. Peabody opened the door wide, then stepped aside.

A true beauty stood there in his doorway. Dressed in soft peach, like a cloud at sunset. Her hands demurely folded before her. Long chestnut hair in a soft wave fell around her shoulders.

It was her eyes that caught him, though. She looked at him like a frightened doe, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

He gulped. Laila. Who could have believed it?

Her skin, now free of dirt and grime, shone like an alabaster stone. Her red lips begged to be kissed, and her seductive curves pulled at the beast inside of him.

She was beautiful. A natural beauty that couldn’t be hidden.

Everything about this woman said female. Her long neck, her unbound breasts, and enticing hips. He wanted her. Wanted to take her here and now, and to hell with the consequences.

He continued to stare. Unable to move. Unable to find the strength to act.

The young woman blushed and looked down. Obviously, embarrassed by his scrutiny.

At last, he pulled himself together. Do not let her know the impact she is having on you, he told himself. She’ll never do what needs to be done.

She looked up and held his stare. She’s daring me, he thought. He had to fight the urge raging inside of himself. Not now, not here. The coin, remember the coin.

Fighting himself. He pulled his eyes away from hers and dipped his head, acknowledging her achievements.

“Laila,” he said with a smile. “I do believe this may be possible after all.”

She smiled and blushed. He could tell that she was pleased.

The soft peach fabric of her day dress matched well with her complexion, he was unable to believe what he was seeing. If she is this beautiful in a simple day dress, he thought, imagine what she will look like in a fancy evening gown.

Wetting his lips, he stepped forward and smiled down at her.

“You, Miss Mason, are beautiful. But, beauty alone will not catch you a prince.”

Her smile dropped for a moment as she nodded.

“Come, let us sit and talk,” he said, as he guided her to a chair. He quickly took the chair next to her, instead of going behind his desk. What was it about this woman that made him want to be close to her? To feel the energy jumping between them.

She gracefully lowered herself to sit in the chair. Flint couldn’t take his eyes off of her. What is it about a dress and a pretty hair arrangement that made a woman seem so formidable? So desirable. The transformation had been remarkable. He reminded himself that he must give Mrs. Peabody and the maids a bonus. They had worked a miracle.

“I trust you are pleased?” he asked.

She blushed and nodded. “Yes, but I can’t go back to the baker’s like this,” she said indicating her new clothes. “They wouldn’t allow me back in my hovel.”

“Laila,” he said. “I can assure you. You will never be going back there. Not unless you wish to show them what they missed. I am positive every man on that street will kick himself if they knew what they had let slip away. And, every woman will offer up a secret prayer that you are not there to tempt their man.”

She laughed and tried to hide a blush by looking down.

He felt a bolt of pain shoot into him. That blush of hers will win her a prince. The body and mind would entice him close. But that blush, would finish him off.

He sat back in his chair and studied her for a moment. Yes, she could look like a princess. Those high cheek bones, alluring eyes. That straight back and steady stare. A natural poise that could not be taught. Yes, they could do this.

“Do you have the coin?” he asked.

“Always,” she said, as she pulled the coin from a pocket sown into the dress beneath her silken belt.

He smiled to himself and nodded, as he retrieved a small golden locket from the desk and slid it across to her.

“What’s this?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

“It is yours.”

“Mine?” she responded, as she gently took it up. She turned it front and back, examining it. Obviously, trying to understand its significance.

“A gift, for me. Why?” she continued. That curious frown of hers turned into a doubting, questioning look. As if she didn’t trust presents from men. Especially men like him.

He laughed to himself. The girl wasn’t dumb. If she knew the thoughts running through his head, she’d slap him hard and run as fast as she could.

“I want you to put the coin inside,” he said. “Wear it always. Keep it close.”

“The coin?” she asked. “Why don’t I just give it to you to hold? That would probably be safer.”

“No, I can’t take it. Not yet. At the wedding reception, after your prince has married you. Before he whisks you away to his castle. Give it to me then.”

Laila stared down at the golden locket and ran her fingers over the fine gold chain. He could tell she was searching for the trap. Trying to figure out his motives.

“Believe me, Laila, it is better this way.”

She finally shrugged her shoulders, and clicked the locket open and slid the coin into it. The small disk fit perfectly. As if the locket had been especially crafted for just such an object.

Looking up at him, she silently questioned him to make sure this was what he wanted.

Flint nodded his head and finally relaxed once the locket and its contents were around her neck. He watched her slip the jewelry inside the top of her dress to rest between her breasts. A brief pang of envy passed through him. Oh, to be nestled in such a place.

Shaking the thought away, he next reached for a small, clay vial sitting on the table next to him. A sudden thought halted his hand.

“Your dagger?” he asked. “You left it in your room?” His eyes roamed over her body searching for the weapon.

A small smile creased her lips as she gently shook her head. Reaching down, she slowly raised the hem of her dress to expose the weapon strapped to an exquisite calf.

“I told you,” she said. “I’m not a princess, yet.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Very well. You may keep it for now. But, keep it out of sight.”

She nodded and let her dress fall back into place.

His mind wandered for a moment, as he thought of that shapely leg and the idea of it wrapped around him.

A gentle cough brought him back to reality. A faint flush touched her cheeks, and he knew she was perfectly aware of what he was thinking.

Flustered, he reached over to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper.

“I’ve found your prince,” he said.

Her eyes shot open in surprise. Like a new born lamb seeing its first sunrise. God, she had that whole innocent look down to an art. How had she ever survived on the streets?

“A Prince Jeffery, of Caylan,” Flint said. “The seventh son of a minor king. He doesn’t have a great fortune, but he does have a castle and enough lands to support it.”

“Why would he marry me?” Laila asked with a deep frown of doubt.

“Because you have what he wants.”

Laila scoffed. “He’s a prince, he can get that anywhere.”

Flint smiled, “No, not that. Although, once he sees you … No, what he wants is to marry someone with a royal title. It would set him above his brothers. At least in his mind. They’ve all married to women of lesser birth. If he could marry a princess. Maybe even his father would be impressed.”

Laila’s eyes clouded over as she thought about what he had said. “Why will he think I am a princess? How will you convince him? It’s not like it’s tattooed on my forehead, Princess Laila, available to the highest bidder. Only royals need apply.”

Flint chuckled. “No, but when the ambassador of Lushcany introduces you to him as Princess Laila from the distant mountain kingdom of Perrault. He will believe it. Especially once he sees you.”

Laila’s face blanched. “The Ambassador of Lushcany. You know him. I must say, you are a man of many secrets.”

Flint froze in place for a moment. “More than you will ever know,” he said, as he reached for the small vial.

“And this,” he said, as he handed the small clay jar to her. “This is for your wedding night. Pig’s blood. Sprinkle it on the sheets the next morning and it will confirm what he already wants to believe.”

Her face turned a deep crimson as she examined the small jar. She looked up and stared into his eyes. A look of disappointment on her face. For a brief moment, he believed she might be disappointed in him. Why? What had he done?

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, as she slowly slid the jar back to him. Her hands shook as she quickly brought them back together in her lap.

Now, it was Flint’s turn to blanch. How was this possible? She was still a virgin. After all these years on the streets. With no protector. No family. The girl truly was remarkable.

He looked at her. Yes, it was the truth. He could only shake his head in disbelief as a small pang of regret passed through him. Don’t underestimate her, he told himself. This young woman was not like most.

Studying her for a moment longer, he thought of what it would be like to introduce her into the ways of love. To teach her how to enjoy life’s greatest pleasures. An urge to hold her in his arms and make her moan with happiness washed over him.

He sighed and took the jar back.

“Very well,” he said. That was all. It seemed more than enough.

“So, I meet the prince, he asks me to marry him.” She gave a weak smile. “I don’t think your plan has a chance in hell. Two people do not fall in love like that.”

Flint threw his head back and laughed before he could stop himself. “What does love have to do with it? This is a merger of titles. One of them as false as a fairy tale with a happy ending. No, do not expect love. Don’t forget, beggars cannot be choosy.”

Her face fell with the realization of what he was saying. His heart went out to her. Like most girls, she had dreamed of wealth and love. Flint knew full well that such things were impossible.

“I’m sorry, Laila,” he said. “I can do many things. Making you fall in love with the prince, or he you, is not one of them.”

She looked down at her hands for a long moment, then nodded her head. “Of course, I understand. Girls like me don’t find love.”

He bit his lip. Girls like her deserved so much more than just love. But, the world was a cruel place.

“You never know,” he said. “While, I might not be able to make it happen. It might very well happen on its own. Heaven knows, he would be a fool not to fall in love with you.”

She didn’t look as if she believed him. Instead, she stood up and nodded her thanks. “If that is all. I will leave you. You have given me a lot to think about.”

Flint grimaced. The beast inside of him clamored to be set free and make this woman’s world perfect. To protect her from unhappiness. It took more will than normal to push him back into place.

“Of course, my dear. We will discuss things later tonight at dinner. We may have a guest. Someone who can help you prepare. She is intimately familiar with court and what is expected of a princess.”

Laila’s eyes sparkled with interest, but a sadness remained there as well. A realization that dreams were not always as she had hoped.