Read Legend Of The Highland Dragon Online

Authors: Isabel Cooper

Tags: #Highland Warriors, #Highlanders, #Historical Romance, #Paranormal Romance, #Romance, #Scotland, #Scotland Highland, #Scottish Highland, #Warrior, #Shifters, #Dragon Shifter, #Magic

Legend Of The Highland Dragon (10 page)

BOOK: Legend Of The Highland Dragon
11.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Thirteen

“What happened to your shirt?” Mina couldn’t believe she was even asking. “What I mean to say is, well, you were fully dressed last time I saw you. And you’d just transformed then. So I was wondering if everything was all right, or you’d had to turn back quicker than normal—”

But why would Stephen have speeded up his transformation now, if he hadn’t the first time they’d met? Mina’s mind caught up with her mouth and left her momentarily silent.

Of course, he’d already fought off the shadows when she’d first seen him transform. He must have known then that Mina wasn’t a threat. He hadn’t known anything earlier that night except that she was alarmed.

Not that Stephen would have rushed things for her sake. The thought made her feel slightly dizzy. No, there was no reason for him to take Mina into consideration, and if he had, it had only been out of obligation or chivalry.

Why was she even
thinking
about it?

Why wasn’t she finishing her sentence? Stephen was starting to look amused.

Mina grabbed for the dangling ends of her thoughts. “—or if there was something wrong. Besides housebreakers.”

She said a brief and silent prayer that it was too dark for Stephen to notice her blushing. Then she realized that it didn’t matter. Her voice had gone up substantially over the course of her question, and a broad grin was spreading itself over Stephen’s face.

He hadn’t taken his hand off her shoulder, either. It was resting there very lightly, probably the gentlest contact Stephen could manage, and yet a good half of Mina’s awareness was focused on its weight and its warmth, even through her clothes.

The other half was conscious of Stephen’s smile, the way his eyes turned up at the corners—and the bare expanse of his chest rising pale and firm from his dark trousers.

“A new shirt, I should think,” he said, looking down at himself for a second, as if only now considering the situation. “The problem with being a gentleman in this day and age, truly, is that you’ve got a fair bit of clothing, and most of it looks the same.”

The girl from Bethnal Green said
we
should
all
have
those
problems
inside Mina’s head, but it was the professor’s secretary—and the woman looking for distraction—who spoke aloud. “What do new clothes have to do with it?”

“The law of contagion. No’ germs or anything—” he added, as Mina’s eyes widened. “The magical meaning’s older than that. It says if two things—or people—have much to do with each other, they start being part of each other. So if I wear something often enough, the magic thinks it’s a part of me, and it transforms back and forth. If I don’t, the transformation destroys it.”

“Oh.”

The explanation made sense. It was even interesting. But it didn’t do what Mina had intended. It didn’t take her mind off the facts at hand, namely the fact that Stephen
wasn’t
wearing a shirt and was standing rather close to her.

She took a long breath. The house was dim; they were alone; and every inch of her skin had suddenly become twice as sensitive as normal. This wasn’t the time to give in to any kind of impulse.

But she only had so much self-control, and surely intellectual impulses were better than the other sort, and information could always be useful, so she asked. “Two people?”

“Aye,” he said, and his accent was getting thicker again. He
still
hadn’t removed his hand. “’Tis harder to use the connection there. A man changes a great deal with the years, you see, and an object is often changeless, or nearly so. But we’re part of each other. People, that is. Someone threatened Carter and it brought you here, after all.”

“That’s not magic.”

Stephen shrugged, and the muscles in his shoulders flexed a little with the motion. “As above, so below. The rules arena’ that different, in the end.”

“So—” Mina caught her breath.

No, she wasn’t going to ask. Questions that began with “So you and I” would not lead anywhere remotely productive or good or wise. The phrase “you and I” was a very bad one, particularly when Stephen was looking down at her, only a few inches away, and he smelled rather like wood smoke, which she didn’t want to notice, either. It
should
have reminded her that he was a dragon and she should be afraid.

Instead, she wanted to step closer and rest her face against his neck.

Bad idea.
Bad
idea. The whole thing called for a lighter topic.

Unfortunately, she’d started speaking before she realized the only thing that came to mind: “Why were you wearing a new shirt, then? If you knew that.”

“The maids don’t know it,” Stephen said, “and Baldwin doesna’, exactly. It was never truly a problem. Not—”

“Not until I came along,” Mina said, quirking a smile.

“Something of the sort, aye. In this particular case, though, I’ve no objections to your presence. My awareness isn’t quite the same when I’m transformed, and they could easily have seen too much if you hadn’t been there.”

Now Stephen did move his hand, but he didn’t drop it. Rather, he slid it up her arm and along the line of her shoulder, then her neck. Finally he traced his fingertips down the side of her jaw before cupping her cheek in his hand.

She should move now, Mina thought, or push his hand away, or at least say something. There wasn’t an etiquette guide in the world that would say this situation was proper, especially not with what had come before. She felt frozen in place, though. The world seemed to have stopped; she definitely didn’t think she was breathing.

She didn’t particularly want to start again.

“Cerberus,” said Stephen, and this time Mina didn’t mind the name as much. Stephen’s voice mocked himself this time, and praised her. “Guarding my doorstep this time. I should ha’ known.”

“Oh,” she said, light and breathless and a long way away from her actual mind, “this is all a bit pleasant for the underworld, you know.”

“I’m no’ much judge of that,” he said, “but I’m glad to hear you say it.” His fingers moved slightly against her face, stroking the skin behind her ear. “You’re certainly a much less terrifying defender. And a much more appealing one.”

Stephen’s voice fell on the last sentence, and for a moment, the quiet, husky tone of it overcame the last of Mina’s restraint. She took one small step forward, put her own hands on his shoulders, and lifted her lips to his.

Even caught up in the moment, she was a little uncertain at first. It had been a long time since she’d kissed a man, and she usually hadn’t initiated the process back then. Besides that, Stephen was tall enough to make Mina worry that she’d judge the angle wrong and end up kissing his chin or his nose. The first brush of her lips against his mouth was light, tentative.

The fire it ignited was enough to drive her past any uncertainty.

All the same, the kiss was gentle this time too. Mina heard Stephen catch his breath as she leaned against him. The hand that had cupped her face was at the back of her neck now, fingers stroking down her spine, but he let her take the lead, responding to the pressure of her lips and the light touch of her tongue.

Beneath her hands, the muscles in his arms were bunched and tense. There was as much power in him as there had been when he’d pulled her to him in the study. He was simply containing it now. Leashing it.

The realization was as heady as the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers.

She took a step forward. That brought her breasts against Stephen’s bare chest, sending a delightful sort of ache through them and turning her nipples instantly hard—and her knees weak. Stephen slipped his other arm around her waist then, so it was a very simple matter just to lean into him, to trust him to take her weight while she melted against his body.

Kissing a man, apparently, was one of those things that came back quickly. If the sensations were far stronger, the skills at least had stayed.

Realizing as much gave Mina more mental satisfaction. She wouldn’t come off as a complete novice in this area. A nice girl probably wouldn’t have been glad about that. A nice girl wouldn’t be standing in a deserted house and kissing a man she barely knew.

Nice girls missed a great deal.

She broke the kiss, but not to pull away. Rather, she indulged her impulse of a few moments before and turned her face to rest against Stephen’s neck. The wood-smoke smell was stronger there, mixed with a very human masculine aroma, and when she ran her tongue experimentally up to Stephen’s ear, he made a rough and inarticulate noise.

Also, the hand at her waist was now cupping her backside. Very nicely, too. Then there was pressure, so she followed it, letting Stephen draw her right up against him.

Now her breasts were crushed against his chest so that she could feel its warmth right through the layers of her clothing. Lower down, a long, thick shaft pressed against her, even hotter and harder than the rest of Stephen’s body.

Mina’s practical knowledge of male organs was a little hazy. It was still good enough to produce several unclear but extremely tempting images and to make her squirm in Stephen’s arms, rubbing herself against him.

That didn’t quite work. Rather, it felt wonderful but was not quite what she wanted.

Stephen was too damn tall. Or she was too short. It would all be much better if they were lying down. The thought crossed her mind just as Stephen trailed his other hand down, his fingers maddeningly light as they grazed over her bodice, and gently cupped one of her breasts.

“Ohh.”

The sound rushed out of Mina on a breath that seemed to empty her lungs. She felt Stephen tense, felt the flex of his muscles beneath her palms, and drew her own hands downward, feeling crisp hair and smooth skin beneath her fingertips. Touching his chest meant putting a little more space between it and her breasts, but that was all right—especially when Stephen started stroking his thumb over her nipple.

Then it was more than all right: it was enthralling. The place between her legs was hot and wet and aching. It ached more with every motion of Stephen’s hands, with every inch of his skin Mina touched, but she desperately wanted to keep going.

And then, from the window nearby:
thump
.

Mina didn’t even see Stephen move. She barely felt it. One second she was in his arms, her whole being centered on desire; the next, she was facing the window from behind him. Her shoulders were a little sore, and when she had a second to breathe, she processed the whirl of movement. He’d grabbed her and spun her out of the way.

Contrary to all reason, the thought did nothing to diminish her lust.

A pair of green eyes, staring out of the darkness, did. Mina glimpsed them when she peered around Stephen, gasped—and then relaxed when the shape around them moved and she saw more of it.

“Just the cat,” she said.


The
cat?” he grumbled. “I wasna’ aware we had one.”

“Well—a cat, then.” Although it was more like
the
. Emily had started putting food out for the creature, and Mina had caught Owens with a saucer of milk at least once. Mina couldn’t read Stephen’s tone, though, and she wasn’t inclined to tattle on the scullery maid who sometimes smiled and asked how her day had gone. “I’ve seen it round the back a few times. Strays, you know. You get them in the city.”

“Probably harmless enough, then,” Stephen said, and turned away from the window. His gaze fastened on Mina’s face, and his eyes darkened, but he made no move to approach her.

Mina understood. Harmless as the cat was, its sudden presence outside had been an effective slap in the face for her. Now she was all too aware that she’d been standing in a deserted and dimly lit house, ready to do all sorts of unwise things with a man she’d known for all of three weeks—a gentleman, at that, and one who wasn’t even human. She couldn’t blame him this time, either.

Whatever he was going to say—scandalized lecture or gentlemanly apology—Mina didn’t want to hear it. “People will be getting back soon,” she said. “You should probably go and see to your room before one of the maids gets there.”

“Oh. Aye.” Stephen cleared his throat. “No, it wouldn’t do to have them upset,” he agreed and started up the stairs. Halfway up, as Mina was beginning to walk away, he stopped and turned. “Are—will you be all right?”

“Oh, well enough,” said Mina, turning back with a smile she didn’t really feel. “I’ll just…I’ll make myself a cup of tea.”

“Because that,” she added to the dark hall, once she was alone there, “is sure to solve everything.”

Fourteen

In the morning, the wind spat rain against the window glass. Stephen looked up from his tea and made a sound that sounded unusually dragonish even to him. He should have known. He’d come to London in the spring—if one could call it that.

Oh, the sky was as gray at home and the weather as bad, or worse. He had to admit that. But he’d never minded there. In the city, the rain felt greasy, and the low, bleak sky was an imprisoning wall. There were walls everywhere here. Some of them granted at least a little safety—though last night had shown their limits—but all of them kept him trapped, even the ones that were only words.

Duty
: there was a set of iron bars.
Honor
was another good one. He’d shut himself behind both quite willingly. He knew it was for the best, and yet—

He buttered a scone absently and ate it without tasting it at all.

It was going to be that sort of day. It had not been a particularly restful night. Stephen had seen to his most immediate needs in a matter of minutes with a few rough and almost punishing strokes of his hand. His sleep had still been restless, haunted alternately by red-lit shadows and a woman’s flushed face, her blue eyes hazy with desire.

He wished to hell that his dreaming mind would at least settle on horror or lust.

The knock at the door took him from his thoughts for a moment. “Yes?”

“Miss Seymour, my lord,” said Polly’s voice.

“Good. Come in.”

She always came to breakfast. Her presence today was no surprise and a bit of a relief, considering the previous evening. All the same, Stephen leaned forward to watch the door open, tense and alert for—God knew what.

It was some comfort, and troubling at the same time, to see that Mina didn’t precisely look at ease. Pretty, yes, even on a day like this one and even in yet another combination of plain dark dress and tightly knotted hair. She held her body rigidly, though, and she looked only briefly into his eyes. “Good morning.”

“And to you,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Polly disappear through the door and wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked her to stay. But what cause would he give? It was too late for him to start acting like a maiden aunt.

He poured Mina a cup of tea and pretended that it took his full concentration, that another sort of tension entirely wasn’t threatening to make itself known. Her skin was creamy and pale against the dark dress, and her eyes were huge, but he wasn’t going to take much notice of that.

He told himself that very firmly, addressing the thought particularly toward his groin, which seemed disinclined to listen.

“I hope your bedroom was all right,” said Mina, fortunately
after
Stephen had put the teapot back down. It wasn’t so much the words themselves as the way she caught her breath after
all
right
, realizing what she’d implied. She bit her lip, small white teeth against crimson skin.

With that, Stephen’s cock came to full attention.

Damn
, he said again, silently this time and directed toward his unruly senses. He had to work with this woman, a purpose he wouldn’t serve by acting like a schoolboy—or a satyr.

He managed to keep his voice from betraying his arousal. “I saw nothing damaged,” he said. “’Tis good of you to ask.”

“Oh. Good.” Mina turned her attention toward her breakfast.

As far as Stephen knew, the walls and furnishings of his drawing room were completely mundane: stone, plaster, and wood, quite natural and certainly not given to changing. All the same, the room seemed about half its normal size. The air was warmer too; the clammy day outside had slipped from his mind entirely.

Business. Business would help—and making progress on that business would get Mina out of his house all the sooner. She’d been very clear about wanting that a few days ago, and it would certainly be better for both of them.

Stephen wished he hadn’t felt the need to tell himself that.

“Speaking of last night—” Bad start. Mina jerked her head upward, eyes wide, and Stephen was very sure which part of last night she was recalling. He shifted in his seat. “Our visitors were mentioning a pub, and you looked like you knew the name.”

“Not very well,” Mina said. The mingled shock and desire left her face—it was probably just as well—and she tried to replace them with a severe, governess-like look. One side of her mouth kept turning up, though. “Not personally, anyhow. But I’ve passed by it a time or two, and I’ve heard a few stories.”

“You’ll need to tell me about the place today.” Stephen glanced over at the window. “We’re having good weather for stories, at least.”

Mina laughed then. “I’ll pull up a chair, shall I, and you can sit at my feet and listen? I only wish I had some knitting, and maybe a lace cap—” Then she stopped laughing, and her golden-brown eyebrows slanted downward. “
You’re
not going there. And you’re
not
asking about Ward.”

She was almost asking a question, except that the sheer disbelief in her voice was too strong.

“And why not?” Stephen asked.

“Because you’ll die.” Mina put down her fork, half a slice of bacon still on the tines. “Definitely if you start asking questions and maybe even if you don’t.”

She spoke as if she was explaining some basic and obvious physical law—gravity or the need to breathe air.

“I’ve gotten the impression the last few years,” Stephen said, emphasizing
years
enough to let her know what other words he might have chosen, “that I’m a fair hand at taking care of myself.”

“Against a whole pub full of men? Without revealing more about yourself than you want?” Mina shook her head. “I wouldn’t put money on it. Anyhow, even if you did come out on top, the story’d be all over the street two hours later. Do you really want that?”

No, he didn’t. Last night’s burglary and its results would doubtless get back to Ward anyhow, sooner or later, and the other man had to know that Stephen would be asking questions. Still, the less Stephen gave away, the better—including how good he was in a fight, how much he’d been able to find out, and where he’d gotten that information.

“But,” he said, “if the man’s been offering work, surely plenty of people must have been asking about it.”

“Nobody like you,” said Mina.

That might have been flattering, but Stephen didn’t count on it. “I wouldn’t just be walking in there like this,” he said, a gesture taking in coat and waistcoat, pocket watch and cuff links. Although, in truth, he hadn’t thought of that until Mina mentioned it, nor was he sure where he’d get other clothes. Perhaps he could borrow Owens’s, though the groom’s shirt would be tight across the shoulders.

It didn’t matter because Mina, far from being convinced, laughed again. “You could go in wearing a convict’s uniform and it wouldn’t matter,” she said. “You look like a gentleman, and if you didn’t, you’d still look dangerous—and wealthy. And that’s the sort of man gets talked about in a place like the Dog and Moon. Especially if he’s asking about jobs. A gentleman might slum a bit, but he wouldn’t go and ask for work.”

“Thank you very much,” said Stephen, trying to sound sarcastic and not gratified. “Could you teach me?”

“Well, thank
you
very much,” said Mina, and the sarcasm was real for her. “But no. Teach you how to act like you’ve—like you’ve never had more than one pair of trousers without a patch on ’em? Like you’ve worried every winter about getting behind on the rent if the coal was too dear, or thought breaking a leg might break
you
? Maybe if I had a year.” She looked from the china on the table to the portraits on the walls, and then back to Stephen. This time her gaze had no desire in it. This time, she looked as if she was calculating the value of his clothes down to the shilling. “
Maybe
.”

The hell of it was that she didn’t even seem very angry. Her eyes shone like indigo glass, but the spark in them was at least half rueful humor. If the laughter in her voice had far more of a brittle edge than it had before, at least the laughter was still there.

Stephen flinched from it as he would never have winced at a blow.

“I hadn’t known that,” he said.

“Well, no. You wouldn’t. That’s my point.” Mina reached for her tea and bent her head to blow across its surface. Her face became hidden: a pale blank between china and hair. “Some have it worse than others, of course.”

“And which of those were you?” Stephen asked. He spoke before he thought; he wanted to reach out and cup her face again, to lift her chin and look into her eyes.

When Mina replied, he was glad he hadn’t. All the laughter had gone from her voice, leaving the crackle of ice in February. “We managed,” she said. “And I don’t see how my family’s got any bearing on our situation.”

“Look here, I was only—” Stephen began, and then he had nothing to say and no grounds for indignation.

Mina had never made any secret of where she came from. Stephen had always known; he just hadn’t
known
. The plain dresses and the occasional accent took on a new weight now. So did her determination to keep working for Carter, her concern over her reputation, and the look of mingled wonder and frustration that had crossed her face when Stephen had so casually offered his payment.

Everything meant more, and so there was nothing he could say.

Gradually, the anger went out of Mina’s face. That stung more, in its own way, because what replaced it was resignation borne of the knowledge that she couldn’t really have expected any better. Then it too was gone, covered by a blank and businesslike expression that might have been worst of all.

“In any case,” she said, “I can’t teach you how to blend in. Odds are you’d just stand out more if you did try.”

“Well, then,” Stephen asked, glad and sorry at the same time to return to the immediate problem, “what is it you’d have me do?”

“Nothing at all,” said Mina. “I’ll go.”

BOOK: Legend Of The Highland Dragon
11.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Part of the Pride by Kevin Richardson
Queenpin by Megan Abbott
Jokerman by Tim Stevens
Winter Apocalypse: Zombie Crusade V by J.W. Vohs, Sandra Vohs
Mystery Dance: Three Novels by Scott Nicholson
Will of Man - Part Two by William Scanlan
The Making of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman
Rodeo Riders by Vonna Harper