Southern Fried Dragon (5 page)

“Come to my room,” she whispered against his mouth. His gray eyes widened. He shook his head
and lowered his arms. She missed the heat of his caress immediately.

“Why not?”

“You are too good for me.”

“Goes without saying, but I want you inside me, and this moment is as good as any.” She was teasing him. Watching to see how far he’d go
, to lie with a perfect stranger. A disreputable man would ask her to show him the way to her room.

The shock
on his pale face at her indecent request was gratifying.

“I must refuse, Miss Little.”

“Then, I’ll say goodnight.” She turned, hurried up the steps, entered the kitchen, and closed the door behind her. It was the hardest thing she’d done since flying away from her native Scotland.

The next seven days all started similarly, yet Dru’s anticipation at seeing Shaw again, kept her humming while she went about her duties. His polite behavior the last time they spoke, filled her with the euphoria of joy, tempered by a desire that heated her cheeks and made her body ache.

Her nipples peaked, and pressed against the coarse linen of her day gown. She couldn’t stop thinking of him. The taste of his mouth, the hardness of his body, the warmth of his hands had made her yearn for more.

Each time she brought food or drink into the tavern, she searched the room for Shaw and his men. The lunch crowd thinned, yet neither Shaw nor his fellow soldiers arrived. Had the rumors of the secession kept them away? Would she never see him again?

Dru washed the batter from her hands and returned to poke the chicken frying in a pot. The scent of crisping flesh and buttermilk was becoming one of her favorite aromas. She’d spent little time flying about the harbor in search of birds. Why bother when Maggie had taught her how to fry chicken parts? Dru hadn’t gone hungry since.

She hungered for something better, today. The urge to kiss Shaw Stenhouse made her giddy, yet he hadn’t stopped in at the tavern for his noon meal. Was the regiment sticking close to their fort? Had his commander forced him to stop visiting Charleston? Would Dru ever see him again?

“Dru! The biscuits!”

Maggie’s shrill voice brought Dru back to her senses, and a burning smell wafted through the kitchen. She grabbed a cloth, then pulled a tray of blackened biscuits from the heat.

Maggie opened the door to the alley and pointed. “I’ll watch the chicken.”

“Sorry,” Dru whispered as she strode down the steps and dumped the biscuits beside the wall. “A feast for the birds and rats, at least.”

She leaned against the wall, cursing beneath her breath. She’d lost all sense of time thinking about a man and had let the biscuits burn.

“A loud sigh. I heard it all the way from the dock. Something burning?”

“Shaw!” She pushed from the wall, and dropped the hot tray. “You came back.”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

Dru glanced at the closed kitchen door, then back to Shaw. She dropped the cloth at her feet, stepped over the hot tray, and pulled him yards away from the burnt food. His scent finally replaced the acrid aroma, filling her with unbound happiness.

“I thought our latest conversation shocked you.”

“I admit your invitation left me stunned. After returning to the fort, and my lonely bed, I could not stop thinking about you. I have kicked myself ever since.”

“Why, sir?”

“I should have taken you up on your most delicious offer.”

“To make love?”

“Yes.”

“And, now?”

“I find my conscience is at war with my body.”

“In what way?”

“You are a lady, though I seem to forget the obvious whenever I’m near your saucy mouth.”

The need to
be a lady in his eyes
instantly morphed into desire when she gazed into his darkened eyes, now more black than gray.

“Saucy?” Dru liked the sound of that.
She licked her lips, tilted her head, and waited for more words of love.

Love?

More like romantic slobber, spoken by a man wanting to bed her. Not love her forever. She planned to hold out for forever. Forever, to a dragon, was a very long time. She sighed again and waited for him to make the next move. She didn’t have long to wait.

Shaw groaned
, and slid his hands up and down her waist and hips, stoking the fire burning in her veins, since she heard his voice echoing across the alley. Although she tasted smoke in her mouth, smoke she desperately held back, chills raced up her spine.

Her unruly hands
rose, circled his neck, and pulled him closer. Shaw nuzzled beneath her ear, but when his mouth found hers, bright lights exploded in her mind. When her desire flowed from her mouth to his, Dru nipped his bottom lip.

Shaw groaned while his right hand strayed, cupping her breast. Dru’s toes tingled, and the private place between her legs moistened in anticipation. She’d never bedded a human male. A distant memory of a black dragon, who mounted her in flight, remained as her only foray into sex. Their rudimentary coupling ended before she knew what had hit her.

Kissing Shaw was a priority. Craving Shaw’s muscular body between her human legs spearheaded a determination to have him. Here and now.

“Here? No,” he said, yet his hands and mouth did not stray far.

Blazes!

She’d best stop voicing her thoughts around him, even though her future depended on acquiring a human’s love. She could not…no, she would not go back to her lonely existence as a dragon.

They resumed kissing, because she was famished after a long week without tasting him on her tongue. The handsome lieutenant, his virility evident by the hard ridge nudging her abdomen, wanted her. She could read Shaw like a book, even though she’d never learned to read.

“You can’t read? How can I send you love letters?”

Her mouth had run away with itself again, and now she’d humiliated herself. Giving voice to her thoughts could prove dangerous. Maggie said the ability to read recipes was important if she wanted to better herself.

Better myself? I’m
a fearsome dragon!

Dru shook off her vanity
, and glanced up at the handsome man clinging to her like a barnacle. Was he handsome as humans go? A broad forehead, high cheekbones and square chin framed a long, straight nose and full kissable lips. Shaw’s skin held the tawny glow of someone who spent hours working in the sun. She’d seen the same on sailors, and dockworkers, but not on the aristocratic plantation owners who frequented the tavern.

As December days shortened, she assumed his tan would fade. Too bad.

“Too bad about what?”

Blazes!

She’d spoken aloud again? How could she talk with their mouths so close? Ignoring his question, she ran the tip of her tongue across his lips, urging them open, then plunged inside. Her tongue danced with his, eager to sip, taste, and indulge for hours.

Hours? Maggie would be wondering where she’d run off to. The chicken for today’s patrons wouldn’t fry itself. Dru pulled away mere inches and waited until his eyes flickered open.

“I must get back to work. If you’re still in town after my work is done, we can talk then.”

“Talk?”

His smile rolled over her like a dangerous current. How many human females had he devastated with a simple look, touch, or even a kiss?

Dru had broken their kiss. With disappointment evident in his eyes, she had to push his hands away. He straightened, waiting for an explanation. A tall man, Shaw stood at least a head above her human form. His uniform could not disguise broad shoulders and a wide chest. His belt wrapped around a trim waist. Sea spray had dampened the lieutenant’s uniform, and his boots were scuffed and dirty. She chided her saucy female passion for a sudden wicked thought. How would he fit in her bed?

“Very well, I pray,” she whispered.

“What? You said we need to talk.”

“Aye. Later.”

* * * * *

The woman acted daft. First she barely looked at him, and then she kissed him as if they were long-lost lovers. Guilt at his men’s rude remarks, bawdy actions, and laughter had made him hunt her down.

To explain.

To apologize.

To kiss her, again.

He’d done a stupid thing in sharing knowledge of their stolen kisses, but he had saved her from those hellions. She should be professing her thanks to all the world. He had done a heroic deed.

He chuckled. A door slammed, and he stopped laughing. She had retreated, tossed aside his growing affections, and hid behind her battlements. He rubbed the evidence of his affections while contemplating how to get in her good graces. To do what?

Toss her on a bed and slake his lust?

Make her fall in love with him to stem the tide of loneliness that gripped him since his posting to Fort Moultrie?

Love? 

Miss Little had kissed him quite spectacularly
just now, and his body twitched to life beneath his breeches. Worse, the little Hellcat knew what effect her passionate kisses wrought.  

* * * * *

Dru hurried through the empty kitchen. Poor Maggie must have gone to serve their few afternoon guests alone. Guilt quickened Dru’s steps, and she marched through the door into the tavern. Maggie gave her a curt nod, furthering the twisting in Dru’s stomach.

The few stragglers had finished their meals and were leaving, much to her relief. She walked among the tables filled with shopkeepers, bankers, and a few of Charleston’s well-dressed gentry as they settled their bills. These men were unlike Shaw’s regiment of young soldiers and officers. These were men who owned slaves. Had they discussed secession? Would any of the well-fed, portly men take up arms against federal soldiers?

When Lieutenant Stenhouse’s image rose, she brushed it away while mopping up tables, and gathering dirty tankards. If he showed up to talk, as she asked, so be it. If she never saw his face again…

Blazes!

The hours since Dru had spoken with Shaw passed too slowly. She never should have teased the man. Would he come back to talk
, or would he kiss her into oblivion? Maybe he had decided that she was not worth the effort, and would never seek her out again. Dru rubbed a palm across the ache in her chest, and continued to work.

After washing
dirty luncheon plates and tankards, Dru wiped a soapy hand across her brow. The bubbles dripped down her nose, and she sneezed.

“God bless you.”

She squeaked, turned, and nearly dropped a plate.

Shaw grasped the errant pottery and placed it on Maggie’s pastry table. Flour wafted up to sparkle in a shaft of afternoon light. The small window high above the alley door reminded her of their kisses
in that same alley.

More than once.

“Ye gave me quite a fright,” she said, laughing at the humor crinkling his mouth.
Blazes, what a mouth.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. No one is in the dining hall.”

“ ‘Tis fine, sir. A server’s duties are numerous.” Did he care she worked hard for a living? Back in Scotland, she ruled the skies. Beasts of all kinds trembled when she roared. Even sea creatures swam well below the surface when her shadow circled overhead.

“As are a simple soldier’s duties.”

“True, I suppose.” He worked for a living as well. She could tell by the muscles in his back, and the ruddy complexion that reminded her of Highlander’s of old. Even in the blustery northern isles of Scotland, men who lived, worked, and fought out of doors, turned golden even under a winter sun.

“Miss Little, you asked me to return
to talk. I must return to the skiff in two hours.”

Her face must have shown her disappointment. Dru wanted to talk to him, of course, but she also wanted to lose herself in his heated embrace. Maybe kiss him again. Talking could lead to more enjoyable pursuits. An idea popped into her head.

“One moment.” She peeked inside the dining hall. No Maggie. Her employer’s shrill voice shouted at someone in the basement. “Follow me.”

She grabbed his hand, pulled him through the empty kitchen, and up the back stairs. Dru shushed him when he protested. At the top of the second landing, she pushed him toward her tiny room. Shaw had to dip his head to miss slamming it on the door’s low lintel. Once in the room, he had to bend to miss bumping into the ceiling beams. He looked so out of place. And suddenly shy.

Dru bolted the door and pressed two fingers against his lips. She unbuttoned his uniform jacket, slipped it from his shoulders, and laid it over the back of a chair. Her hands and fingers were acting without premeditation, but she knew where things headed.

“Thirsty?” she asked, pointing to a pitcher.

Shaw shook his head, removed his hat, and set it on the chair. When he ran his fingers through his dark hair, he inadvertently loosened his sailor’s queue. The braided piece of rope tumbled to the floor. A powerful urge to reach out and run her fingers through his dark brown locks frightened her.