Highlander the Dark Dragon (16 page)

She barely budged when he placed her on the bed, took off her boots, and tucked the blanket around her. She also did not stir when he kissed her cheek. She was beyond tired and needed a solid rest. He left her reluctantly and when he stepped outside the room, he found Henry and Nessa standing there.

“I will stand guard, my lord,” Henry said.

“You will until I send someone to replace you. It will do your leg wound no good to remain standing for possibly hours.”

Henry reluctantly accepted the Dragon’s orders. He had little choice since he knew full well not to question them.

“Nessa, you will check on Lady Heather from time to time and when she wakes you will let Pitt know.”

Nessa bobbed her head in compliance.

Rhys walked off relieved that rest was what his wife needed, though he was concerned with all that was going on. He had hoped to see the dispute between Macinnes and McLaud settled without battle, but with what McDolan had done to Rab McLaud, he doubted that would be possible. Then there was his old enemy. He needed to see that finished once and for all.

Heather woke, her sleep disturbed by a strange noise. She listened and heard nothing, which had her wondering if the noise had been from a dream, though she could recall none. Curiosity had her getting out of bed with a roll of her shoulder. No pain disturbed her head and she actually felt very well-rested. The nap had done her good.

She slipped on her boots and went to the door and when she opened it she was surprised to find no guard there. She wondered how long she had slept as she made her way down the stairs and into the Great Hall. It was empty and not a servant lurked about. She glanced at the windows and saw it was dark. Had she slept well into the night?

She stepped outside, walking down the steps to see if anyone was about and it was eerily silent. The village looked asleep for the night, but if it was that late where was her husband?

“My lady?”

Heather jumped, her hand going to her chest.

“I am sorry, my lady, I did not mean to frighten you. I but wondered what you were doing out here so late.”

Heather turned to see Seamus and did not think it would be proper to explain that she searched for her husband when he should be in bed with her at this hour. “I should ask the same of you.”

“When sleep refuses to come to me, I walk in the shadows of the village in hopes of finding out its secrets.”

“What secrets?” Heather asked.

“To watch and see if more old people will be taken away and by whom? Who sneaks about for a late night visit? And sometimes I watch the Dark Dragon prowl the village.”

She spoke her thought before she could stop herself. “Why ever would he do that?”

“I do not know, but he stops, watches, and listens and sometimes he will simply sit on the steps of the keep and stare into the darkness almost as if he is waiting for something to emerge from it.”

A sound turned both of them silent and with gentle, slow steps they went in search of it. The two quickly moved into the shadows when they heard the sound again and watched as a cart meandered past them. They waited until the sound of it was a safe distance away, then followed, staying in the shadows.

“That is Aggie’s cottage,” Seamus whispered as the cart came to a stop in front of it. “She was old long before age got me. Glynnis always looked after her and she misses the lass terribly.”

Heather and Seamus watched as the two men disappeared inside.

“The old ones are worthless to the Dragon. He is doing away with her, he is,” Seamus said, choking back his tears. “Soon the cart will come for me in the middle of the night.”

The cottage door opened and two men helped a crying Aggie out and into the cart.

“God bless her.” Seamus sniffled back his tears. “She was a good woman.”

The old woman’s tears broke Heather’s heart and without thought to her actions she stepped out of the shadows, demanding, “What goes on here?”

Seamus stayed where he was frightened if he showed himself that he too would be carted off, but his chest went out and a smile spread across his face, seeing how brave Lady Heather was to confront the men.

Both men stared at her as if they were seeing a ghost.

“I am Lady Heather, you will answer me,” she demanded.

“They answer only to me,” —Rhys stepped out of the shadows— “as do you.”

The darkness seemed to cling to him as he walked toward her, making him appear as if giant wings extended from his sides. The two men stepped around the cart, keeping it between them and the Dragon.

“What are you doing out here this late and how did you get passed the guard this time?”

Anger was strong in his voice, though Heather was not sure if he was angry with her or the guard that evidently left his post. “I did not know the lateness of the hour when I came in search of you and there was no guard at my door to stop me.”

“No guard?” he asked as if he had not heard her correctly.

She shook her head and repeated, “No guard.”

He stepped closer to her, his arm going around her as if shielding her and he looked to the old woman. “It will not be long now.” He nodded to the men. “Take her.”

Heather went to ask him where the men were taking the crying woman, but he called out to Seamus before she could.

“Show yourself, Seamus.”

The old man did as he was told.

“You will breathe not a word of this, Seamus, or I will no longer allow you to walk the village at night.”

Seamus’s eyes turned wide.

“You think I do not see you watching me, do not hear you? Do you think my men do not watch you? Go to your daughter, Seamus, before I change my mind and have you taken away with Aggie.”

Seamus hurried off and she could see by his expression that the old man liked the Dragon even less now. And for a moment, she wondered if she could be wrong about his true identity. Quinn would never be so unkind to an old warrior.

She could not stop herself from saying, “It would be better if you befriended him than frightened him.”

“There is no room for friendship when you lead.”

“Pitt is your friend.”

“And Pitt knows my leadership comes before our friendship, but enough questions.”

Rhys kept her close against him as he hurried her inside the keep and straight to his solar.

Heather looked at Rhys as he filled a goblet with wine. Who truly was this man she wed? She thought she knew him, but did she? He handed her the goblet and she took it, eager to ask him questions, yet she remained silent. She drifted to one of the chairs near the hearth and sat.

Pitt entered, the door having been left open.

“Find out what happened to the guard at the door,” Rhys ordered and Pitt closed the door behind him as he took his leave.

“Feeling better?” Rhys asked, standing near the hearth.

“Much, but then I should feel well-rested, having slept most of the night away.”

“Sunrise is less than an hour away.”

“It is no wonder I feel so refreshed, but what of you? Have you slept at all?” she asked, though looking at him he did not appear a man who lacked sleep. No heaviness marred his eyes nor did his body appear fatigued. He stood tall, his shoulders broad, his chest fit and his eyes as alert as ever. The one thing different about him was his dark hair. It was not drawn back. It fell to just above his shoulders, one side tucked behind his ear...the way Quinn had worn his. While it gave a familiar tug to her heart, she could not help but think of the changes in him.

“I slept well enough.”

“But not alongside me,” she said, recalling that she had not caught the scent of him on the bed linens when she woke.

“You needed rest.”

“I rest quite well with you beside me,” she assured him.

“I do not, for it is not rest I think of when lying beside you.”

“What do you think of?” Heather said and found herself waiting for a reply while Rhys rested his hand to his chin and ran is thumb across his lips, paused in thought. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips and the way his thumb caressed them and she felt a small flutter in her stomach.

He stopped suddenly and with a brief step, hunched down in front of her. “I think of touching you in the most intimate of places.”

Heather gasped lightly when his hands slipped under her skirt to caress her legs. His touch was gentle, running from her ankles up along her legs slowly as if he did not want to miss touching any part of her. And as he did, the flutter in her stomach grew and took flight, settling between her legs and growing ever stronger as his hands slipped over her knees and down between her legs to stroke the inner flesh.

Rhys watched her eyes flutter and her mouth dropped open slightly as he gently spread her legs apart. He had grown hard with his first touch of her, soft yet firm, and the further he explored the harder he grew. One yank forward and he could...he groaned with the thought of swiftly impaling her. Instead, he slipped his finger slowly inside her.

Heather gasped, her hands grabbing his shoulders and digging into his flesh as his thumb settled on the direct spot that throbbed unmercifully. She moaned, then sighed, then moaned again.

She grew so wet that Rhys could slip easily inside her without causing her much pain, but he would not take her here and now like a common wench. He would make love to her properly in their bed. For now, he would simply bring her pleasure, let her grow accustomed to his touch, and watch as she climaxed for the first time.

Heather inched forward in the chair, needing him to go deeper inside her and the slight plunge of his fingers drew a louder moan from her as she dropped her brow to rest on his.

“Kiss me.”

It was a demand, not a request, and Heather complied most willingly. His tongue penetrated her mouth the same time his fingers plunged deeper. This time her gasp was caught in his mouth as his kiss turned more powerful and pleasing than she ever thought possible.

She moaned in disappointment when he tore his lips away from hers to whisper in her ear, “Come for me, I want to feel you come.”

He teased her nub until she thought she would go mad and she dropped her head back and moaned so loud she thought all in the keep would think the Dragon tortured her, but then he did, though most pleasurably.

She cried out his name as she felt the overwhelming sensation continue to grow and as it did, she dug her fingers deeper into his shoulders. His name became a litany on her lips until finally...she felt an explosion of the most glorious sensation and let herself be swept away in it.

Rhys watched as the climax hit and took hold of her and seeing the pleasure she was getting from it almost had him coming himself. But the years of learning to stay in control took hold and besides, when he came it would be inside her.

As her climax subsided, she brought her head down to rest on her husband’s shoulder.

“That and more is what I think of doing to you,” he whispered in her ear.

If her breathing was not so labored, she would tell him that he could do that and more to her as often as he liked. Actually, she would not mind if they went to their bedchamber right now, for she had waited far too long to make love with the man she loved. For now, she just let herself enjoy all the little sensations that continued to linger in her body.

Rhys loved feeling the last of her climax ripple through her and that she rested her head on his shoulder without thought as if it was most natural. He wanted her at ease with him, wanted her to enjoy his touch, to look forward to it.

He closed his eyes against the thought that he refused to admit and constantly haunted him—he wanted her to love him. The problem was— could he give her the love she deserved?

Her stomach rumbled, interrupting both their thoughts.

“You are hungry,” Rhys said, easing her back in the chair.

Her stomach may have grumbled, but it was the hunger that had lain dormant for so long that needed feeding. And she was not quite sure how much it would take to satisfy it.

Rhys stood and held his hand out to her. “The kitchen should be stirring by now. I will have them prepare something for us.”

Heather was pleased that her husband would share the morning meal with her and took his hand to walk with him to the Great Hall. She not only wanted to spend more time with him, she was looking forward to the next time they would be intimate. And if she could hasten that moment, she happily would.

Sunrise broke just a few moments after they were seated in the Great Hall and food soon found its way to their table. They just began their meal when Pitt approached, a frown on his handsome face, though when his eye caught sight of Nessa he smiled at her. Nessa turned away, ignoring him and Pitt’s frown returned.

“Sit, and eat,” Rhys ordered.

Pitt shook his head. “We found the guard. He took a knot to the back of his head and was trussed up tightly. He remembers nothing, though he has been questioned endlessly. There is another problem.”

“When is there ever not a problem?” Rhys said, sounding as if he had expected it.

“It seems the body that was to be disposed of is gone,” Pitt said.

Heather felt her stomach clench and she suddenly felt her appetite wane, though not her courage. She looked to her husband. “Tell me the body you speak of is not Aggie.”

“Though it does not concern you, wife, it is not Aggie we speak of.”

“Then who?” Heather asked.

“Again, it is not your concern.”

Heather thought to argue, but it would serve no purpose. Her husband would not tell her, but one way or another she would find out.

Fife hurried into the hall, his eyes darting to Nessa and wide smiles were exchanged between them before he solemnly faced the Dragon. The young warrior’s eyes went to Heather and back at the Dragon’s several times.

Rhys stood and walked around the dais and over to the large stone hearth, Pitt and Fife following. The three men talked in whispers.

When Rhys walked back to the dais, he said, “Remain in the keep while I see to this.” He turned and walked out of the room, expecting her to obey.

Fife followed, though slowed his steps as he neared Nessa. He took a moment to stop and speak with her before hurrying after the Dragon.

Nessa in turn hurried to Heather. “Fife says something has been found in the barn, but he claims it is too gruesome to tell me what it is. I wonder if the wolf has struck again.”

Knowing a wolf had not been responsible for the death of the two warriors got Heather wondering what had happened. “The wolf has not been caught yet?” she asked.

“There has been no word of his capture. If there was, my lady, there would be a celebration. And now with this,” —Nessa shook her head—“everyone will make sure their loved ones are accounted for while wondering what secret the barn holds this time.”

Nessa took off to attend to her duties and Heather sat alone at the dais with much on her mind. She wished her sisters were here so she could talk with them. She missed the many times they would sit and talk for hours. They never lacked for conversation, for there was always something for them to share. She would have liked to confide her suspicions about the Dragon to them. They would keep her secret, even advise her on what to do. They would not think her foolish or laugh at her; they would be happy for her.