The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) (21 page)

“What is it?” she whispered.

 “Nothing,” he muttered back.

“Is this what you do—
after?
”

 Aye. I have to rest, or I won’t be able to pleasure you again.”

“There’s more?” He heard the incredulous note in her voice.

“Aye. There’s more.” A grin formed on his mouth. How little Dessia knew about what men and women could share.

He tried to relax and sleep but was unable to do so, which surprised him. He was used to taking his pleasure and then going to sleep. Some women found it aggravating, and but it was the way he was. He’d learned when he was a slave how to block out everything and escape into the oblivion of sleep, but now the ability failed him. Perhaps it was because he was so intensely aware of the woman in his arms. Another surprise. Usually, as soon as he bedded a woman, he began to lose interest. But, if anything, he wanted Dessia more than ever.

And it wasn’t lust. His body remained satisfied, and his weary muscles longed for rest. It was another part of him that sought to stay awake and savor this moment. Was that what Dessia was doing? For she was surely awake as well. He could sense the tension in her body and her breathing hadn’t taken on the deep, even rhythm of slumber.

Even as he had the thought, she pulled away from him and sat up on the edge of the bed. Hearing her sigh, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Aye. I can’t either.” He moved to sit next to her.

“What shall we do?”

“We could make love again.” Although he wasn’t quite ready, he knew if he began to kiss and caress her, he would get in the mood soon enough.

She shook her head and went to get her wine.

He had a sudden uneasy thought. “Didn’t you like it? I mean, the first time for a woman isn’t always the best. But still . . .” He found he was holding his breath. Although all his instincts told him she’d reached her peak, he couldn’t be certain.

She turned to look at him, her expression almost anguished. “Aye. I liked it. I liked it far too much.”

His mood lightened, but he was still uncertain. Why did she look so distraught? “What’s wrong?”

She gestured helplessly. “But now . . . what do we do? And I don’t mean the rest of the night. I mean . . .” He knew the words she didn’t say:
What do we do
. . .
the rest of our lives?

The question was familiar to him. Many women had asked him the same thing. He’d always answered in a light tone, suggesting they enjoy this moment and not worry about the future. Then he would pull them into his arms and silence them with kisses. He would make them sigh and moan and forget their worries. Then, as soon as he could, he would leave them. That seemed to him the gentlest way to answer their question, although sometimes they didn’t agree. But he couldn’t do that with Dessia. She looked so agonized. So vulnerable. Besides, he didn’t
want
to leave her.

He also understood why she was asking the question. She wasn’t concerned merely for her own wishes and feelings. Because she was a queen, she had to think about how this night would impact her people’s future, as well as her own. So, he didn’t answer flippantly, didn’t pull her into his arms. He simply said, “I don’t know.”

She nodded at this, as if it was the answer she’d expected, that she’d already come to on her own. That was probably why she was so restless and edgy. For the last ten years, every action she’d taken had been with one goal in mind—to restore her kingdom. Now she’d done something purely for herself, and she didn’t know how to reconcile it with her long-held dream.

He not only understood her dilemma, but felt her turmoil echoed in himself. This hadn’t been part of his plan either. He’d never meant to come to care for her so much. Having spent his whole adult life seeking never to develop any strong feelings about any person, place or goal, it was shocking to discover himself in these circumstances. What had happened? How had this woman, and this place, these people—how they managed to breach the barriers he’d set up around his heart?

Difficult questions. Far too difficult for him to resolve this night. He told her so. “I don’t think either of us is in a condition to find answers right now. Perhaps we should, as they say, ‘sleep on it’.”

“But that’s the dilemma.” She sighed again. “Neither of us can sleep.”

“I think I have a remedy for that.” He moved toward her. While his mind had wrestled with these difficult issues, his body had revived. Looking at her lovely nakedness, he found he was aroused. He pulled her into his arms. “If we can’t sleep, perhaps it’s because we aren’t tired enough.”

This is madness,
Dessia thought as he kissed her. The more he touched her, the more he loved her, the more confused she became. She felt as if she were drowning, and every time she got her head above water and breathed enough air to clear her head, he pulled her down into the depths again.

Ah, but what a blissful end. She was drowning in pleasure, and the deeper she slipped into the delightful sensations, the more enticing and satisfying they became. His mouth was magic. And the way he touched her, as if he knew her body better than she knew it herself. She would never have imagined it a few moments ago, but her body was already primed and eager for more. Her nipples tightened with arousal and the flesh between her legs no longer throbbed with soreness but with the exquisite ache of desire. When he touched her there, she seemed to melt. Her knees went weak, her body limp against his, and the place between her legs dripped molten wetness.

She lay back helplessly as he slid her legs apart, then closed her eyes as he began to kiss her
there
. The first time he’d done it, she’d felt shock and embarrassment. This time, knowing what pleasure awaited, she gave in easily. She could scarce believe this was happening. That it was her body writhing with passion. Her own voice keening her delight. The tension built and built and then released in wild rush.

The next thing she knew, Bridei was on top of her, whispering. “Try to be a little quieter, my sweetness. If you make too much noise, someone might think I’m hurting you and decide to come to your rescue.”

With a sense of horror, she realized she’d been near screaming as she peaked. “By Beli!” she gasped. “What if they’re on their way up here now? What will I say? What will we do?”

“Relax. Everyone drank enough wine and mead to keep them snoring for hours. Even if someone did decide to climb the stairs and check on you, they’d call up first”

“But I . . . what will people think?” She scooted out from under him and got out of bed. “You have to leave! Now, before anyone knows you’ve been here!”

“Do you really think anyone cares if I bed you? After that song I sang, I imagine most of them expect it.”

“Oh, the song!” She collapsed on the bed. “I forgot about the song.”

He moved to sit beside her. “It’s all right, Dessia. They won’t think any less of you for knowing you might wish to take a man to your bed. Indeed, they might like you better for it.” He stroked her shoulder. “
Cariad,
you don’t have to always be a queen. Sometimes you’re allowed to simply be a woman.”

Dessia sighed heavily. It was probably too late. After the noise she’d made, at least a few people in the hall had surely woken up. If Bridei left now, they would see him and know the truth. Besides, to send his away, now, after the pleasure he’d given her, it didn’t seem right. It was cowardly to even consider it.

She looked at him, at his beautiful violet eyes and his sensual mouth, quirked in a slight smile. Her heart seemed to beat faster, and all her doubts and worries vanished like a mist burning off in the sunlight. “What does
cariad
mean?” she asked.

“Beloved. It means beloved.”

Her heart seemed to race faster still. There was such tenderness in his gaze. “What language is it?” she asked.

“Cymry.”

She felt something inside her leap with joy. From this man, this charming, clever bard, she might expect endearments to tumble easily from his lips. But somehow she knew he meant this one. He’d spoken in the language of his birth. And the look in his eyes said it was true. He did love her.

It was still dark when Bridei woke. His body felt wonderfully, deliciously satisfied, and by rights he should still be sleeping. But even in his dreams he seemed aware of the woman sleeping beside him. He turned to look at her, and in the faint light of the guttering candles on the table, feasted his eyes on her delicate features. She looked so soft and female. He felt a strong urge to protect her. It almost made him wish he was a man like Keenan, a trained warrior, tough, brutal and experienced at combat. Perhaps that was the sort of man she needed, one who could defend her and protect her lands and her people. The thought dismayed him. What if he wasn’t the right man for her to fall in love with? What if she’d made a mistake? If
he'd
made a mistake in making her care for him?

It was a disturbing thought. Even more disturbing was the realization that he was having it. Never before had he questioned his right to bed a woman. Dessia had changed him, made him a different person. And he wasn’t certain he had the skills he needed to survive as the man she’d made him into. He knew how to take care of himself, but he’d never had to worry about anyone else before.

His thoughts were making him restless. If he didn’t want to wake Dessia, he must get up. With slow, careful movements, he climbed over her sleeping body, found his clothes and began to dress. With as much stealth as he could manage, he went to the door, unlatched it and slipped out.

He knew a stab of regret as he started down the tower stairs. It would have been delightful to stay until Dessia woke, so they could cuddle and perhaps make love again. But she might sleep hours more. Besides, it was much more discreet for him to leave now. He’d be far less likely to be seen as he exited the stairs. Although he’d meant it when he told Dessia her people probably expected her to take him to her bed, there was no point flaunting their relationship. Tact and subtlety were important in such matters, as he’d learned over the years.

He was in luck. Everyone in the hall appeared to still be soundly asleep, and he was able to reach the door without notice. Once outside, he breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately shivered with cold. Their fine weather had turned. The sky, although lightening with dawn, was overcast, and a raw wind blew in from sea. He doubted the traders would want to set out in this. That served his purposes. There were a few questions he wanted to ask Penrick. The trader seemed to know a lot about what was happening in Britain; perhaps he could come up with some reason for Dolgar’s actions.

Although Bridei considered seeking Penrick out, he feared it was too early. The traders had drunk as much as anyone the night before. They might not rise before midday. But as he made his way to the midden, he saw Penrick apparently coming from there.

“By the gods, it’s cold out here!” Penrick exclaimed. “I should have brought my cloak.”

“Aye, it is,” Bridei agreed. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the barracks. That’s where the queen put us. I was displeased at first, having found out it’s where the workmen stay. But the accommodations aren’t too bad. Much better than the crowded hall.”

Bridei grinned at him. “You may well be sleeping in my bed. That’s where I usually spend my nights.”

“But not this one, eh?” Penrick smirked.

“Nay. Not this one.” Bridei felt himself bristle. What business was it of this man where he slept?

Penrick smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “No offense meant. But I am surprised the queen would house a bard of your skill with her laborers. Or, perhaps, it was your preference. The barracks do afford more privacy.”

“Exactly,” Bridei answered. He motioned to the other man. “I’ll meet you there shortly. There’s something I wished to discuss with you.”

“I’ll be there. Sarlic will stoke up the brazier so we can talk comfortably.”

After a quick trip to the midden, Bridei made his way to the barracks. Sarlic had the brazier glowing, as promised, and Penrick and Rinc were seated on either side. Sarlic sat on the floor by the wall next to the traders’ packs. Bridei pulled up a stool next to Penrick. The man fixed his blue eyes on Bridei expectantly.

“I heard you talking about what will happen in Britain now that Arthur’s been defeated,” Bridei began. “You mentioned the Caledonians. What do you know of them? Are you familiar with their politics?”

Penrick shrugged. “Some. I hear things now and then.”

“What about a chieftain named Dolgar?”

“Don’t know him.”

He’d been afraid of this. Dolgar was a minor chieftain, and probably not important enough that someone like Penrick would have heard of him. Which was what made it all so puzzling. Bridei was very certain Dolgar hadn’t acted on his own. So, who else was behind his abduction and the attempt to murder him?

“What’s this Dolgar to you?” Penrick asked.

“It’s because of him that I ended up in this place. Thanks to Dolgar, I traveled here on a slavers’ boat, as part of their cargo.”

“Dolgar sold you to the slavers?” Penrick straightened in surprise.

“His plan was to have them throw me overboard. But I was able to talk them out of it. Then we encountered a storm and got blown to this part of Ireland.”