B00CGOH3US EBOK Page 5

  And yet, she did not seem to mind. She even pulled her hair up as he drew near the end of his task, revealing the smooth arch of her neck and the wispy curls at her nape.

  What would it be like to brush his lips where her pulse beat just below her ear? He could still taste her from when he'd dared to stroke her with his dragon's tongue while she stood bound to the stake. Would she taste different now that he was human?

  Tearing himself away from his lustful thoughts, Baelin tied the knot tighter than it needed to be. He cursed his actions. Now he would probably end up having to cut the gown off her later. As soon as the thought invaded his mind, the vivid image of doing just that nearly brought him to his knees.

  He took a much-needed step away from her.

  "'Tis done." The words came out as a growl, but he couldn't take them back. Nor could he allow her to see how much her presence affected him.

  Letting her hair fall, she turned to face him. "Thank you."

  Trying to regain his calm through courtesy, he offered her one of the goblets. Suspicion narrowed her eyes and she kept her hands at her sides.

  "What is it?"

  "Wine."

  She looked from him to the goblet and back. Her lack of trust held a bitter taste, but he reminded himself it was always this way in the beginning.

  "Fear not. 'Tis only wine. I wish you no harm."

  "I'm not so sure of that yet." But she accepted the goblet anyway. As she reached for it, her sleeve slipped, revealing her wrist and angry red welts marking her flesh, the skin raw and torn.

  "God's teeth!" He grabbed her arm, startling her. Her cup clattered to the ground, the spilled wine spreading a crimson river on the stones at their feet. "Why do they always struggle so, when it only brings them harm?"

  "Why don't you try standing still as a huge flying lizard comes swooping down at you and see if you don't get a sudden urge to run like hell?"

  His gaze shot from her chafed wrist to her challenging eyes.

  "Believe me, my lady, I have. 'Tis no easy feat." Realizing he was scaring her yet again, he released her. "I am sorry if I frightened you."

  "Frightened is an understatement. I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you dive-bombed out of the sky at me."

  While he may not understand all her strange words, he could discern the implication behind most of them. "It could not be helped. There was no other way."

  He left her standing by the fire to gather what he would need to tend her wounds.

  A long silence stretched between them before she spoke again. "You said 'they' always struggle. Do you make it a habit of snatching defenseless women tied to stakes?"

  "I endeavor not to be greedy." A faint smile tugged at his lips, helping to temper his fierce mood. "I try to limit myself to but one maiden a year."

  "How considerate of you."

  Continuing his search, he attempted to explain. "Alas, 'tis necessary. My curse can only be broken by a maiden from the village."

  "Of course. There's a curse. Why wouldn't there be one in this Camelot Gone Wild?" The girl paused before continuing. "So that's why you take the sacrifices?"

  Her biting tone confused him. Frowning, he returned to the fireside. "Aye, why else would I take them?"

  She cocked a finely arched brow at him. "Let me see. You're a man with dragon wings sticking out of your back, living alone in a cave with only yourself for entertainment and…other things. Several possibilities instantly come to mind and none of them are very good."

  The stinging insult couched in her strange words was not lost on him. "No harm will come to you while you are under my protection."

  "Your protection?" she huffed. "This is kidnapping and where I come from, that's considered a federal offense. For all I know, I need protection from you."

  Crossing her arms, her stance mocked him as surely as her sharp tongue. What kind of woman was this, who entered the dragon's lair and dared challenge the beast with little more than the stiff tilt of her chin?

  Uncertain how to best proceed with this odd girl, Baelin attempted to put her at ease. "Upon the rise of the next full moon, if the curse is not broken, you shall be released—unharmed, untouched, and with wealth enough that you will never go wanting."

  Her brow puckered, but she appeared to relax a bit. "That's good to know…I think."

  Gesturing to a flat rock near the fire, he offered her what comfort he could. "Please, sit."

  She eyed him, her expression guarded, before complying.

  He refilled her goblet and she took it from him with obvious caution, sniffing the wine before taking a tiny sip. She nodded her head, offering silent approval of its quality. He let out the breath he'd been holding, not realizing until then that her opinion of the wine—and by relation, himself—mattered.

  He knelt on the ground and reached for her free hand. She leaned back, her entire body retreating from him until he feared she might fall backwards off the rock.

  "I only wish to tend your wounds so they do not fester."

  "Oh." She seemed to ponder this, then finally put her hand in his.

  Relieved at this small act of trust, he examined the raw red welts marking the tender flesh of her wrists. Her hands were delicate and soft, no calluses marring the palms from long days of grueling work. Who was she that she did not have to labor like the other villagers, women and children alike?

  "What's that?" she asked as he scooped green paste out of a jar.

  "'Tis a salve. It will help the cuts to heal."

  The girl wrinkled her nose at the foul-smelling ointment, but she did not flinch when he smoothed it over the angry scrapes. "So it's some kind of antibiotic cream?"

  "Forgive me. I do not know what this antre bæðweg is you speak of."

  "You don't know what an antibiotic is?" She gaped at him as if he were daft. "What rock have you been living under?"

  He gritted his teeth, sensing the insult behind her strange words. "I call this cave my home, if that is what you consider living under a rock."

  "Oh. Sorry. No offense."

  He bent to his task in an effort to regain control over the umbrage she instilled in him. Once both wrists were coated with the salve, he tore a piece of linen into strips, all the while aware of the maid watching his every movement. She took another sip, this one longer than the first, then broke the uneasy silence closing in around them.

  "This is some potent wine. I'll be drunk after one mug on an empty stomach."

  "Then you should not partake overmuch, for I have no food to offer you."

  "Right." She lifted the goblet in a mockery of a toast. "After the day I've had, I'm ready to drink myself into oblivion. I may wake up with a killer hangover, but hopefully I will be back in my own bed and all this will be nothing more than the hazy leftovers of a very bad dream."

  "This is not a dream."

  She made an unladylike snort. "Tell that to the rational part of my brain. Where I come from, people don't live in caves, planes are the preferred mode of airborne transportation and there are no such things as dragons."

  Her words pierced through him, as though she denounced his very existence. Baelin gripped her arm with more force than he intended, causing her to wince.

  "Then what am I?"

  The girl shivered under his scrutiny and tried to pull away, but he refused to release his hold. He wanted her to experience the warmth of his skin, to know the solid grasp of his hand on her flesh, to feel that he was a living, breathing creature.

  Her hand fisted, her jaw tense. She ceased straining and countered his grip with a challenging glare. "Good question. What exactly are you?"

  He released her instantly.

  "I am what you see. Half man, half beast."

  The girl swallowed hard, then sat without uttering a word while he wrapped her wrist with a linen strip. He felt her eyes on him, watching him as he tended her. He didn't dare look up. He didn't want to see what she was thinking.

  When he turned his attention to
the other wrist, his gaze was drawn to where his hand had circled the tiny limb. Already bruises were forming to join the vicious welts marring her pale skin. He cursed his lack of control and the beast within that urged him to lose it. He bit back an oath, angry with himself for causing injury to her not once, but twice, and she'd been in his possession for less than a day.

  "So, what's your name?" the maid asked, her voice soft, gentle.

  After tying off the last bandage, Baelin stood and stepped away from her, lest he be tempted to lay his hands on her again.

  "I was once called Baelin of Gosforth." The dancing flames held his attention as memories of the life he once had drifted out of reach as surely as the rising smoke disappeared into the darkness high overhead. "Now I am only called Dragon. Beast. Devil."

  "How about if I just call you Baelin?"

  "That would please me greatly."

  Setting her wine aside, she rose and held her hand out to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Baelin of Gosforth. I'm Jill of Richmond."

  He stared at her outstretched hand, surprised she would offer it to him when it was no longer necessary to suffer his touch. He took her delicate fingers in his and bowed over them.

  "I am honored, Lady Jill."

  She smiled as he straightened. "Wow, you don't see that much anymore."

  "See what, my lady?"

  "Never mind." She resumed her seat and picked up her wine. "So, how about telling me exactly what the heck is going on around here?"

  Baelin tensed. How much to tell her? For the moment, she seemed calm. Dare he risk upsetting her again? The truth was more than most of the maids could grasp.

  "Perhaps you should rest and I will explain all to you in the morn."

  "No." She sent a stern look his way. "I think I'd like to hear it now. As you can tell, I have nothing better to do at the moment."

  "Very well." Baelin went to sit on the opposite side of the fire before beginning his tale. "When I was a young knight, I was cursed by the Dark Witch."

  Lady Jill blinked twice, then shook her head. "Wait. A witch? As in the spell-casting, broomstick-riding variety?"

  "She has servants to sweep her hall, but aye, she is a sorceress, with the gift of spells."

  "O-kaayyy."

  "Her warriors captured me in battle and when I refused to serve her, she placed a curse upon me, turning me into the very creature I hunted."

  "And I'm guessing that would be dragons?"

  Baelin nodded. "The Dark Witch holds sway over them, using the winged beasts against mortal men."

  Lady Jill looked uneasy. "And are you under this witch's 'sway' now?"

  "Nay, she only has power over the dragon within me when I am within her realm."

  Her gaze darted to the wings folded against his back. "But you're still part dragon."

  "'Tis true in human form I retain some of the dragon's power, but she has no control over me here."

  "Uh huh." She fingered the hammered design on the side of her goblet. Baelin sat silent, waiting for the questions he knew would come. "So how long have you been this way?"

  "Two hundred and sixteen years."

  "Amazing." She made a clucking sound with her tongue. "You don't look a day over thirty-five."

  "I only appear that way. In truth, I was born in the year of our Lord, 978."

  She held up her hand. "Hold it. Stop the video and hit rewind. Did you say you were born in 978?"

  "Aye."

  She stared at him for the longest time before speaking. "You're serious. You believe this. Everything you just said, you actually believe it's true." She shook herself as if a sudden chill had swept into the cave. "And I can't believe I'm even having this conversation. It's gotta be the wine going to my head."

  She set her half-empty goblet down and stood. "Look, you seem like a nice guy and I'm sure when they get you back on your medication, everything will be fine." She rubbed her forehead. "Maybe I need to be put on heavy meds. This is a warning sign of an impending mental breakdown if I ever saw one."

  She began to pace. "There has to be a reasonable, sane explanation for all this. I just have to figure it out."

  Lady Jill continued to prattle on, talking, he believed, more to herself than to him. "You know, I've seen some weird stuff in my life. People do strange things to their bodies all the time—full body tattoos, piercings to parts of the human anatomy that should never be pierced. Heck, I saw a guy once who had metal balls implanted under his skin." She waved her hand in his direction. "So I wouldn't put it past someone to have bat wings surgically attached to their back."

  She tapped a finger to her chin. "The medieval village…well, I've heard those reenactors can take their parts a little too seriously sometimes. That's easily explained." She paused, frowned at him, then began walking again. "I'll admit, the dragon part, that's not so easy to reason away."

  Lady Jill stopped abruptly, staring at a shield propped against the cave wall before turning away, her eyes round as goose eggs.

  "I know! This is some role-playing theme park where sicko geeks get their kicks living out their Dungeon and Dragon fantasies."

  Baelin watched in stunned silence as she covered her mouth with her hand as if to hold back words too incredible to utter.

  "Oh my God. What if that crazy saleslady was some kind of white slave trader? I knew it smelled weird in that place. I bet she drugged me and sold me into a warped, medieval sexcapade game." Spinning in a circle, her wild gaze darted from object to object in the cave. "Yes, that has to be it. And the drugs would explain the flying dragon hallucination. It all makes perfect sense in a freaky, twisted sort of way."

  Lady Jill finally stopped her frantic movements and fisted her hands on her hips, eyeing him with suspicion. "You're not going to dress up in a chain mail diaper and have me spank you while you call me 'mommy', are you?"

  He'd never been so confused in his life. The woman chattered so fast, it was almost as if she spoke a foreign tongue. All he could do was shake his head and pray it was the response she wanted.

  "Thank God." She sighed, her shoulders sagging in relief. Then the walking started again. "I wish I could just go back to before all this insanity happened. I wish I'd never stepped foot in that strange vintage clothing store and I wish I'd never met that kooky munchkin lady with her stupid dragon tapestry."

  Baelin stiffened, instantly alert to the one sensible thing in all her ramblings. "What is this dragon tapestry you speak of?"

  "What?" She stopped, as if surprised he was still listening to her. "Oh, it was some ratty piece of cloth with woven pictures all over it. The saleslady said it was a thousand years old, but I didn't believe her for a minute. It was probably booby-trapped with chloroform or something. Now that I think about it, it was right after she unrolled it to the dragon part that I started feeling strange…"

  Baelin left the odd woman to mutter to herself. He walked to the far wall and reached into a dark crevice in the rock formation. When his fingers brushed the treasure hidden within, the familiar emotions of anger and bitterness, sorrow and hope resurfaced as they always did.

  Returning to the fireside, he unwrapped the object he'd spent the last 216 years guarding with his life.

  Lady Jill stopped talking and stood stone still, all color draining from her face.

  "Oh, my God. That's it! That's the tapestry!"

  Surprised at her claim, Baelin clutched the edges of the tapestry, threatening to rip the woven cloth in his white-knuckled grip.

  "Are you certain?"

  "Oh, I've never been more sure of anything in my life." She eyed the object that had controlled his fate for over two centuries, her breathing rapid and shallow.

  "That's the damn thing that brought me here."

  CHAPTER 5

  Jill's world tunneled in on the tapestry cradled in Baelin's hands.

  She watched him grip it tighter, as if he feared she might try to take it from him.

  "You must be mistaken."

  "Oh, n
o. I'd know that damn thing anywhere. It's permanently imprinted on my brain." A sickening feeling churned in the pit of her belly, then crept its way up her throat until it threatened to choke her. "Where did you get it?"

  "The tapestry has always been in my possession. I have guarded it every day of my life as a dragon, for it holds the beginning and the end of my curse."

  Jill searched her memory, trying to recall the details of the incredible story he'd told her only moments ago. Chills prickled her skin and her breath came in short, desperate gasps. She dreaded asking the question rat-a-tat-tatting in her mind like the drum roll before an execution, but she had to know.

  "What year is it?"

  "'Tis the year of our Lord, 1214."

  "Twelve…?" She swayed as she shook her head in denial. "No. No. Noooo."

  The walls of the cave closed in on her. She stumbled in a circle, desperate to find anything that would snap her back to reality. But everything she saw—a shield, a sword, even the gown she wore—confirmed exactly where and when she was. She covered her face with her hands, trying to block the objects from her vision, but they remained in her mind's eye, irrefutable evidence of an inconceivable truth.

  "This isn't real. This cannot be happening." She staggered toward the mouth of the cave, desperate for fresh air before she passed out. But before she could gain the entrance, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, jerking her back against a rock-hard chest.

  "You cannot leave."

  Jill struggled against his powerful grip as the acidic taste of bile rose in the back of her throat. "I can't breathe and if you don't let me go, I might heave what little I have in my stomach all over you."

  A long moment passed, then the grip on her waist eased. "I will take you."

  With his arm still around her, Jill stumbled out onto the ledge and managed to sit before her legs buckled from under her. She dropped her head between her knees and drew in large gulps of air. When she was reasonably sure she wasn't going to faint or vomit or both, she raised her head and looked out over the valley illuminated by the full moon far below.