Chapter Five
Lord Bloodaxe’s hounds sank down on their hind legs and stood so still on either side of Georgiana that they reminded her of a pair of matched fire irons. “You are permitted to move about the room,” she said, expecting they wouldn’t understand a word of what she was saying. “But you’ll have to turn around while I undress. After all, I’m a well-bred young lady and require some privacy.”
She blushed when they nodded. But they remained as still as statues and continued to stare at her. “What are you trying to tell me? Very well, you’re right. I didn’t behave like a lady last night. But I couldn’t help myself. Your master is…”
She picked up her new clothes and moved to stand behind the bed while continuing to chatter at her two intrepid companions. “I don’t quite know what he is, in truth. But he must be someone special to me. Don’t you think?”
Charon and Styx nodded again.
She eyed her two companions warily. “Is it truly possible you understand me?”
They gave another nod.
Was it just a trick or did they know what she was saying? She tipped her chin up in the air. “Then turn around while I slip off your master’s shirt and don this gown. I won’t have the two of you gawking at me.”
Charon turned to face the door while Styx faced the windows.
“Sweet merciful heaven, you do understand.” The realization rattled her, but also comforted her. She hastily washed and then put on her new garments. Her slippers turned out to be soft leather ankle-length boots that laced up the front. She nodded her approval. She’d be able to run in them if she had to. Her gown was a little too long and not practical for running, but she could gather up the skirts without much difficulty. “You may turn around now, gentlemen.”
Charon and Styx immediately obeyed.
She laughed and shook her head. “What do you think of my outfit? The kirtle and tunic are a few hundred years out of fashion. But I’m not going to tea with the Prince Regent, am I? The linen is quite soft and the colors are very pretty, don’t you think?”
They barked their obvious approval.
She sighed. “Who were you in an earlier life? Knights of King Arthur’s round table?”
They didn’t respond.
“I suppose not. Perhaps Knights Templar? Did you hide your treasure on the Isle of Malta?” She caught not even a blink from them. “Will you give me a hint?”
She sat at the table and nibbled on the last of her eggs and kippers. She’d already had her breakfast, but took a few more bites anyway to fill her belly and maintain her strength. But she knew better than to overdo it. If she had to suddenly run, she couldn’t afford a stitch in her side to slow her down.
Yet, if she were on the run, she might have trouble finding food. She fashioned a pouch out of the kerchief that came with her gown and tucked some bread and an apple in it.
She turned to Lord Bloodaxe’s hounds that were following her every move. “Am I permitted to feed you table scraps?” Charon’s ears perked when she lifted a kipper onto her fork. She grinned at him. “Aha! You like fish, so you must have been a fisherman.”
He cast her an exasperated look, as though she were so far off the mark as to be pathetic. “But I saw your ears perk. You–”
Both dogs suddenly turned to the window and started growling, all playfulness gone as they bared their sharp teeth and settled their bodies low on their haunches, preparing to leap at whatever threat was out there. In the next moment, an enormous, yellow-scaled creature made its presence known by smashing the windows with its spiked tail.
Georgiana fell back with a soft cry as the massive beast suddenly stuck its long yellow head through the gaping hole and tried to grab her in its snapping jaws. Dragon.
She meant to scream, but her terror caused her throat to constrict so that she felt strangled by her own fear. No! She had to keep her wits about her.
She rolled out of reach and scrambled to her feet to frantically search for a weapon while the growling dogs held the beast off. Charon lunged at its snout and Styx went for its throat. The beast momentarily withdrew, but Georgiana knew there would be no more than a few moments of respite before it demolished this stone tower and caught her in its bone-crushing grip.
How does one defend against a dragon?
This one looked similar to the one imprinted on Lord Bloodaxe’s back, but it was an opalescent, yellowish amber and not nearly as majestic. Perhaps it was the lack of expression in its ebony-black eyes that diminished the nobility of the creature.
Lord Bloodaxe had taken his battle axe along with several daggers that he’d kept in a chest along the back wall. She raced to the chest, her heart once more thumping madly as she opened it to uncover a treasure trove of weapons, none of which she knew how to use.
The crossbow looked the most promising, but it was too heavy to hold in her hands and aim. She’d have to prop it up on something. The bed’s footboard would do nicely. It would also provide a protective screen that she could hide behind.
But the footboard was merely carved wood that would split in half if the dragon whipped its tail and gave it a good thwack.
Mere seconds had passed but it felt like an eternity.
She glanced around, looking for something sturdier to shield her. Of course! Lord Bloodaxe’s shield was hanging on the wall beside the chest. She used her shoulder to push it upward and off its hook and then winced as it noisily clattered to the ground. “Please don’t be dented.”
She wouldn’t blame Lord Bloodaxe if he throttled her for damaging his precious armaments. But she’d worry about that later. She hoisted the shield onto the bed and propped it up between the footboard and the mattress.
Breathing heavily and grunting from the exertion, she then dragged the crossbow to the bed and propped it up against the footboard as well. She hastily dug through the chest and grabbed all the arrows she could find, loading one onto the crossbow.
“Blast, how does this thing work?” It was no easy feat to draw the bowstring taut and properly set it on the delicately poised spring. She finally managed it, but knew she would have only one chance for a good shot because reloading it would take more time than she had to spare under a steady assault.
“Charon and Styx, stay back,” she warned. “I don’t want to accidentally hit you while you’re leaping in midair.” Besides, there was shattered glass all around the front wall that might cut their paws.
Where was that yellow dragon?
She’d barely gotten the thought out before it reappeared, smashing the stones around the damaged windows with its whip-like tail. Her finger twitched as crumbling stones pelted the footboard causing her to accidentally shoot her arrow. It sailed off wide of its mark and disappeared into the dank air.
“Blast and bother.” With shaking hands, she attempted to load another arrow onto the crossbow, but a deep and ominous roar filled the air and sent piercing waves of pain through her eardrums. The arrow fell as she dropped it to cover her ears. She’d never heard the full-throated, angry roar of a dragon before and never expected the resonant call to be so powerful as to affect all of her senses.
Unable to load the next arrow, she curled behind the propped-up shield as though it could hide her from this ancient monster. In the next moment, she felt a burst of heat and the bed quickly became engulfed in fire, all but the little square upon which she was curled. Incredibly, the flames whipped around the shield and struck everywhere on the bed but where she hid.
Thank goodness.
She dared not inhale, for the heat would certainly singe her lungs. She held her breath as long as possible, determined to hold it until she passed out, if necessary. But her head quickly began to spin and she heard another ear-splitting roar. Another dragon? The call sounded different from the first. Suddenly, the shadow of the yellow dragon that had cast a pall over this ruined tower chamber was no longer there.
The bed was still in flames so she quickly rolled off it and patted herself down to inspect her gown and hair. She gave silent thanks that there were no embers caught in them. But the beautiful dragon bed had been reduced to firewood and would soon be nothing but ashes.
The crossbow was already a pile of ashes.
She darted around the dying-out flames to Lord Bloodaxe’s chest and withdrew a simple bow and a quiver full of arrows. She hoisted the quiver over her shoulder. The yew bow was not as effective as the deadly crossbow, but it was a weapon she could hold in her grasp and easily raise to take careful aim.
Young ladies were trained in the sport of archery.
She was an expert marksman.
But where could she strike a dragon with her arrow to cause the most damage? Unlike the crossbow arrows, these did not have the ability to penetrate a dragon’s protective scales. The slender shaft would simply bounce off the dragon’s thick body.
More earsplitting roars filled the air.
Mother in heaven.
How many dragons were coming after her?
She covered her ears yet again, her mind racing all the while. She needed to stuff them with something to mute the sounds. She dumped the bread and apple out of the kerchief, shook out the crumbs, and stuck one end of the kerchief into each ear.
No doubt she looked ridiculous, but this was necessary for her survival. She grabbed the bow and placed an arrow on it. Aim for the dragon’s eye.
Yes, that was her best chance.
But when she dared to peek out of what remained of the window, she saw three dragons flying overhead. “Merciful heaven.”
She couldn’t fight them all.
No, she didn’t have to fight them at all, she quickly realized. The black dragon with the blue underbelly had to be Lord Bloodaxe. She recognized the yellow dragon that had attacked her and quietly cheered as Lord Bloodaxe grabbed its flailing tail in his dragon teeth and flung its big yellow body with enough force to toss the beast into the distant lake.
The third dragon was an enormous, all black dragon with fiery red eyes and a mean disposition. The two black dragons now turned to face each other, their wings magnificently outstretched in an aggressive display as they prepared to fly toward each other in the first engagement of what had to be a deadly battle.
The yellow dragon was forgotten as each turned its feral fury on the other.
She was forgotten as well, for they probably believed her to be dead.
Charon and Styx drew close to her, their gazes also fixed on the black dragons soaring overhead.
Georgiana stared in fascination as they began to circle each other, the nostrils on their long snouts flared and the spikes that ran along their spines taut as sword points. To her confusion, the dragons exchanged no more than a few roars before the enormous black dragon suddenly flew off with a flap of its massive wings. The smaller black dragon made a graceful turn and was about to chase after his larger challenger when it suddenly stopped and turned back to circle the bedchamber tower that was now mostly in ruins.
Turbulent blue eyes met the worried green of Georgiana’s gaze. She knew this black dragon was Lord Bloodaxe and quickly removed the kerchief stuffed in her ears so that he did not think her addled. She lowered her bow and stood in front of the broken window so that she was now fully exposed to his view. The dragon roared softly and she noticed a surge of relief in his eyes. “I’m safe,” she mouthed, doubting he could see the movement of her lips.
With a powerful thrust of his long, black wings, he flew upward into the clouds.
She peered out of the empty space that had once been a window, careful to avoid the shards of glass that stuck to the sill and frame. More glass was scattered across the floor. The scent of smoke permeated the air. Had the windows not been broken, she would have suffocated from the smoke. But the opening served as a chimney flue to draw the worst of the smoke out of the chamber.
She tried to find him among the swirling gray clouds. “Where are you, Lord Bloodaxe?” she muttered, but there was no sign of a black dragon stealthily threading its way in and out of the clouds. Her gaze was still fixed on the thunderous sky when Charon and Styx suddenly left her side and raced to the door.
They weren’t growling, but panting excitedly.
She was about to throw the bolt and fling the door open when she remembered her lesson with the nymphs. The dogs hadn’t growled when they’d come to the door either. In the next moment, a mighty fist pounded against the thick wood. “Georgiana,” was all Lord Bloodaxe needed to shout.
She cried in relief and opened the door.
He stood there looking magnificent, no matter that he was battle-worn and bloodied. “You’re alive,” he said, the deep rumble of his voice ragged and raw. He stood on the threshold and studied her. His gaze was intense, blazing a trail up and down her body. “By the Stone of Draloch, how is it possible? I saw Necros shoot his dragon fire straight at you.”
“Is that what you call the hideous yellow beast?”
“Aye. He’s a Dragon Lord, but was once a goblin. He’s a brainless toady. I will kill him. There is nowhere in the Underworld he can hide from me.” He swept her into his arms and kissed her with a depth of feeling that stole her breath away. He kissed her long and hard, and she returned his kiss with equal ardor. He chased the cold from her bones. He touched her heart as no other man ever could. “How did you survive, Georgie? What miracle occurred to spare you from his flames?”
She didn’t know. “It wasn’t so much a miracle as good fortune. I went to your chest and gathered some of your weapons,” she said in a rush, now beginning to feel quite proud of her actions and pleased that he regarded her with obvious admiration. “I noticed your shield on the wall and decided to wedge it between the bed’s footboard and the mattress. It looked sturdy enough to protect me from falling stones or from a dragon’s tail smashing against the bed. But your crossbow is destroyed. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you think I care? It is easily replaced. You’re not.” He lowered his mouth to hers once again and claimed her lips with a possessive hunger.
She trembled against his hard body, not from fear but from the passion he evoked in her. Her heart was racing and her senses were atilt. His tower chamber was in shambles. Smoke from the yellow dragon’s flames still lingered in the air as did the odor of that foul beast. Ugh! What an unholy stench!
To counter it, she breathed in Lord Bloodaxe’s honey scent as she eyed him with worry. “How soon before more dragons attack?”
“They won’t.” His smile made her heart flutter. “You’ve scared them off.”
She shook her head and laughed softly. “I doubt it is me that has put them on the run.”
“Indeed, it is.” He brushed aside a few stray curls and kissed her on the forehead. “I warned them about you, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Oh, am I that fearsome a warrior?” Her lips tilted upward in a grin, for she was feeling proud of herself again.
He lifted her into his arms and kissed her soundly again. “You even have me quaking, and I’m a bloody Dragon Lord.”
She laughed heartily, for his teasing manner calmed her. Nothing mattered now that she was in his arms. All she’d thought about while the dragons had hovered overhead was of his safe return. Now that she knew he was unharmed, she wanted nothing more than to hold onto him with all her might. “Your dragon shield protected me. Necros’ fire swirled all around me, but couldn’t penetrate the shield.”
She ran her hands up and down his arms and gasped when she felt a sticky warmth on his sleeve. “You’re bleeding.”
He shook his head. “No, just a scratch.”
“Let me see.” Her arms still pained her from the cuts and scratches she’d received when attacked by his nymphs. He’d taken on dragons and demon armies. “Scratches don’t bleed this profusely.”
“’Tis naught, merely a small spot on my sleeve and already caking dry. Hardly worth the mention.” He ignored her concern and stepped into the center of his bedchamber to inspect the damage. “By the Stone of Draloch.” He groaned in frustration. “Necros was angry.”
She followed his gaze and grimaced. “I tried to get off a shot with your crossbow, but he startled me and the shot went wide. I did a miserable job of defense.”
“My quarters will be repaired quickly. But we’ll have to leave the fortress while my workers are rebuilding this tower. In truth, it may be for the best. Brihann brought you here and would know where to find you if we stayed.” He stepped over the rubble to stand beside what had once been a beautifully framed window but was now a gaping hole. “There are many places to hide you within my realm. It is best you retreat to one of those. You’ll have to slip out quietly. His spies are everywhere around my fortress, watching your every movement. Your escape will have to be well planned.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Am I to be left on my own? Or will you be with me?”
He returned to her side, closing the small distance between them. “What do you think?”
She sighed. “I no longer know what to think.”
“Yes, you do.” The air felt charged between them, and his touch, when he gently cupped her cheek, felt like the strike of a lightning bolt.
Her heartbeats felt like hammer strikes against her chest. “I shouldn’t trust you, but I do. I shouldn’t like you, but…”
He did not smile as he spoke her thoughts. “But you do, even though I am a demon. You don’t know if your ordeal has confused your mind, for how can you possibly have any affection for a shape-shifting monster?”
She wanted to tell him that he was no monster, but it wasn’t so. He was a dangerous Dragon Lord and ruled over a demonic realm. She merely nodded in agreement.
“I can’t explain it either. But it doesn’t matter right now. You’ve survived Necros’ attack and word of it will quickly spread throughout the Underworld.”
“How is it significant?”
“You’re a mortal girl who survived dragon fire. The only other young woman who managed that is the Fae queen, Melody. She was a simple vicar’s daughter who fulfilled the ancient prophecy etched into the Stone of Draloch and gave the Fae their great victory over the demons of the Underworld.”
Georgiana tipped her head in confusion. “How did she manage it?”
“It’s a long story and one I shall tell you once I have you safely hidden away. Georgiana, ever since the demons’ loss, Brihann has been ranting and raging about conquering the realm of mortals. The Fae and demons battled for thousands of years and all attention was given to the words of the Fae prophecy, but there was more written on the stone concerning the fate of mankind.” He tipped her chin up to meet his gaze as he began to recite the two sentences from memory.
Two black dragons shall reign supreme.
Two black dragons shall unite the worlds of demon and man.
“You and your High King Brihann?” She pursed her lips. “Or are there more black dragons that exist?”
He turned away and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “There is another.”
She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more. “Must I ask you questions about this third dragon? I know how intensely you dislike questions.”
He chuckled softly and returned his gaze to meet hers. “I will tell you about him another time. My concern right now is to keep you out of Brihann’s grasp. There is no doubt that he purposely engaged me and my men in a skirmish to keep us occupied while Necros came after you. I don’t know that he gave Necros the order to kill you. You’re more useful to Brihann alive, but who knows what runs through his deranged mind? He may want you dead.”
“If that is so, then why did Brihann not do it when he first abducted me?”
Lord Bloodaxe ran a hand once more through his dark hair. “I think he gave you to me believing I’d take you as one of my concubines. You were meant to be a gift to me to repair hostilities that have existed between us for quite some time now. He meant it as a gesture to unite the two black dragons in preparation for war against our mortal foe.”
His mouth pursed in a thin, tense line as he gave the matter more thought. “It wasn’t until he gave serious consideration to the words of the prophecy that he understood you could be the means to his undoing. He’s just realized his mistake in bringing you to me. That’s why he must now hunt you down and make certain you are destroyed before you can destroy him.”
She shook her head, straining to understand the politics within this realm, but found it even more indecipherable than those of England. “But he flew off when you confronted him. If he’s so desperate, why didn’t he stay and fight you?”
“Because he and I may be the two dragons referred to in the prophecy. He isn’t certain yet and for that reason, he won’t risk killing me.”
“That may explain why he spared you. I still don’t understand what makes me so important to him.”
He took a long moment to respond, frowning as though the reason was not to his liking. “Because you are important to me,” he said finally and with such reluctance, it seemed as though each word had to be dragged forcibly from his lips.
“How can I be? You hardly know me.” Even as she spoke in protest, she knew that she was wrong. They did know each other and it mattered not that she had no knowledge of where or how or when. He knew.
Why wouldn’t he tell her?
A commotion at the door ended all chance for further conversation. “Lord Bloodaxe,” said one of the demons who’d come running up the stairs with broadswords in their hands, “what has happened here?”
Surprisingly, these demons resembled men and all wore hauberks similar to that of Lord Bloodaxe, except for the man who spoke. His garments were finer, and by the set of keys dangling from his belt, she assumed he served as steward of this fortress.
Charon and Styx began to bark at the men who stood behind the steward with their weapons still drawn.
Lord Bloodaxe raised his hand and uttered a single word. “Quiet.”
His dogs immediately obeyed.
He turned to the men who had yet to cross his threshold and would not do so unless permitted, and waved them in. “You may as well meet the cause of the havoc. This is Lady Georgiana Wethersby, daughter of the Duke of Penrith.”
“The Duke of Penrith,” his steward repeated in a murmur of surprise. He appeared to be a man of middle age with thin, gray hair, and resembled a clerk or professor, for he was not very tall, not at all muscled, and wore spectacles. The other men looked more like fighters and carried themselves as such, although none were as tall or broad in the shoulders as Lord Bloodaxe. “His estate, Wethersby Hall, is in the Lake District, is it not?”
Lord Bloodaxe nodded. “It is. Quite astute of you, Thomas. She is an innocent brought against her will into our lands. So now you understand why she is important to us all.”
As one, the men fell on one knee and bowed before her. “We shall protect her at all costs,” they pledged, their heads lowered in reverential respect.
To Georgiana’s consternation, they remained kneeling and with their heads bowed as though awaiting a magical word or two from her. She gazed at Lord Bloodaxe in confusion.
“Do you not understand yet? It seems you are the one chosen by the Stone of Draloch to be our guiding light. You hold our destiny in your hands.”
She refused to believe it. “Rise, gentlemen. I am no deity and do not presume to have any control over your lives.” Whatever the life of a demon might be.
Lord Bloodaxe regarded her with a wickedly appealing arch of his eyebrow. “Even I misjudged your purpose in being brought here. Your powers may prove stronger even than Queen Melody’s.”
What nonsense is this? He’d compared her to the Fae queen, the mortal female that all demons feared. She studied his face for the hint of a twitch in his lips or a glint of amusement in his dragon eyes, but he did not appear to be jesting.
“Lady Georgiana, allow me to introduce you to the captains in command of my armies. Sir Artemis,” Lord Bloodaxe said, nodding toward the burliest of the three demons who also appeared to be the oldest, for his hair was thick and bristly and almost completely gray. But she couldn’t be sure of his age, for these captains had the look of men and yet they could be any form of creature. No man she had ever met had eyes as black as theirs.
Obsidian black and fathomless.
Lord Bloodaxe quickly introduced her to the other two who appeared to be fairly young demons. One had dark hair that was almost longer than her own locks, and the other had blond, wavy hair that fell just below his shoulders. He introduced the dark haired one as Andronicus and the light haired one as Dalgwynn. “All of them were once men. As was I.”
Was that a hint of wistfulness she’d detected in his voice?
“Captain Artemis was a knight in service to the Duke of Poitiers. Captain Andronicus commanded a Roman legion in Jerusalem. Captain Dalgwynn led several successful Welsh uprisings against the Marcher Lords who protected the English borderlands. The Welsh revolt failed once he was killed. In losing him, they lost their best military tactician.”
Georgiana pursed her lips in thought. “I know it is rude of me to ask, but how do men such as you come to be here? How is service to your liege lord not honorable?”
Lord Bloodaxe placed a hand lightly on her arm. “Not all who pass through the Underworld are dark souls. This is a conversation for another time.” He turned away from her and began to give orders to his captains and his steward about the repairs to be done to his bedchamber tower. “Thomas, prepare the south chamber. Lady Georgiana and I shall sleep there until the repairs are completed.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. She wanted to protest, but thought better of it. Instead, she purposely kept her mouth shut. Expressing displeasure would only call more attention to their situation which was scandalous at best. She was an unmarried woman sharing quarters with a man… demon… Dragon Lord.
Mother in heaven.
Would anyone believe her tale, assuming she ever made it home to tell it?
Although these beings now thought of her as their possible savior, Lord Bloodaxe still meant to treat her as his captive. He might consider his nightly presence in her bedchamber as necessary for her protection, but the fact remained that she was subject to his will, and he was not letting her out of his sight.
She considered ordering Thomas to arrange separate beds for them, but chose to remain silent about that as well. She had already spent a night alone with their liege lord. Whatever damage to her reputation had been done. Far more important was the fact that she had not been damaged in any physical way. Lord Bloodaxe had fashioned a pallet for himself by the door and given up his bed to her last night. She had been the one to leave that bed and huddle beside him on the floor to seek the warmth of his body and security of his arms.
Her stomach began to twist in knots.
Would she do the same tonight?
If anything, the yearning to lie in his embrace intensified with each passing moment in his presence. Even now, the urge to melt into his arms overwhelmed her. But she was not so foolish as to do anything about it.
No, indeed!
She clasped her hands together to keep herself from reaching out to him, and then stood quietly beside Charon and Styx while Lord Bloodaxe reviewed the destruction with his captains. He assigned a task to each of them. Captain Artemis and his men were to clear out the rubble, and with the help of stone masons, rebuild the tower. Captain Andronicus was to secure the fortress and hunt down as many of Brihann’s spies as could be found within its walls.
She couldn’t hear what he commanded of Captain Dalgwynn, but saw the captain nod solemnly and stride out in a hurry. “Come, little savior. Take a walk with me in the garden.”
Perhaps he meant only an affectionate jest in calling her that, but it distressed her all the same. “I’m no one’s savior. I can’t even save myself. I couldn’t lift any of your weapons and almost put out my back lugging the few I could manage into position.”
She noted the glint of amusement in his eyes, but in the next moment his expression turned contemplative. “The Stone of Draloch did not bring you here because of your physical prowess.” But his gaze was approving as he slowly and discreetly raked it over her body.
She sensed the heat in his gaze signified more than mere admiration.
She tingled every time he looked upon her.
Mother in heaven.
Her own betrothed had never once made her feel this way. Oliver. What was she to do about him, assuming she ever escaped the Underworld? She suddenly gasped. “Has this changed matters? Will you still help return me to my home?”
Instead of responding, he led her down the tower steps and through the main hall. His dogs followed, taking positions on either side of her, but one walked slightly behind her while the other walked slightly ahead.
Lord Bloodaxe paused a moment to address the servants and his other subjects who had gathered in the vast hall to seek refuge from the dragons that had soared overhead a short while ago. “All is safe now. You may go about your duties. But before you do, I would like you all to meet Lady Georgiana. The rumor swirling about her is true. She is the young mortal who just bested Necros and survived his dragon fire.”
Some of his subjects fell to their knees while others attempted to rush toward her to touch her, but his dogs growled at any being who dared come near. “She is beautiful, my lord,” several murmured as they bowed to him and then to her.
Others wept. “She will save us.”
Lord Bloodaxe surprised her by his kindness to his subjects, much as a king might walk among his subjects and inspire them with his mere touch. Nor did the regal aura of the hall escape her notice either. To her surprise, the stonework, elegant columns, and stained-glass windows reminded her of a charming, old English castle or a magnificent abbey.
“They think I’m special. You should not have introduced me as you did.” She frowned at him when he did not respond. When that failed, she tipped her chin up in indignation. “You must tell them the truth, correct their wrong impression. I’m merely an Englishwoman.”
“They won’t believe me. They know you are more important than any of my nymphs.”
Ah, his concubines. Even as they made their way through the swelling crowd, some of the demons were eyeing her with an avidity that made her skin crawl.
Lord Bloodaxe would have to be as dense as a post not to realize her displeasure. Was he purposely ignoring the leers she was receiving?
“They are looking upon you in adoration. Most are, anyway. Stop pouting and follow me.” He held out his arm to her in an unexpectedly courtly manner so that those watching would understand she was a lady and he meant to treat her as such even though he had yet to formally acknowledge her as anything more than a guest. They must all believe he had already bedded her.
But he didn’t slow his steps, and she had to scurry to keep up with him. She had no time to view the rooms they strode past. Some had rich carpets covering the floors. All was a blur, but she could not overlook their surprising opulence as glitters of gold and silver and crystal flashed before her eyes. “Your fortress is as elegant as any of my father’s homes. Perhaps more so. I did not realize Dragon Lords lived as finely as dukes, even princes for that matter.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Even beasts enjoy the finer things. Although, in truth, these trappings of wealth are more for show rather than for my own satisfaction.”
She nodded. “I understand. It is meant to convey power and the depth of your resources should anyone attempt to attack you.”
“It discourages the lesser demons, but is meaningless against Brihann.” He led her through a room that could have passed for an elegant London townhouse sitting room and crossed to the tall, glass doors that opened onto a terrace. Beyond the terrace was a garden as lovely as any she’d seen in England. “Surprised?”
She nodded.
They descended a row of stone steps to the garden, the dogs now bounding ahead with a playful eagerness that belied their ferocity. While his beasts ran back and forth along the grass, chasing each other and then pausing to sniff along the sculpted bushes, Lord Bloodaxe slowed his pace to a leisurely one so that they now strolled along the flower paths instead of racing through them.
Perhaps he’d purposely brought her into the garden to soothe her frayed senses, for her heart was still tight and racing after her encounter with the yellow dragon. “You survived, Georgiana,” he said quietly, placing his hand lightly at the small of her back in a gesture of assurance.
She nodded and returned her attention to the garden. The flowers were beautiful, but there were strange plants she did not recognize along with the many that she did. She noted the blood-red roses, pink lilies, silver foxglove, and pale purple periwinkles that seemed to thrive despite the lack of sunshine.
How odd that they should bloom so robustly under a red sky and the light of the two moons?
But there were oddly shaped flowers of russet and blue and deepest black with eyes in their petals and leaves that reached out to touch the hem of her gown as she passed. They seemed to be alive, small creatures rooted to the ground. A few even seemed to have teeth, and she was careful to step well away from them.
Lord Bloodaxe’s lips were pursed as he resumed his earlier thought. “One would think Brihann had learned his lesson after the Fae victory, but it merely drove him further into darkness. His madness now has him in an unbreakable grip.”
Georgiana was pleased that he was talking to her about the frightening incident and wished to encourage him to tell her more about this strange world. “How did the Fae defeat Brihann?”
“The Stone of Draloch, as ever, guided them. Lord Mordain and I were there to witness his defeat, our presence having been commanded by Brihann himself. He thought he’d lured the Fae king, Cadeyrn, into a trap and meant to use his victory to coerce us into joining him in war. Mordain and I had yet to be convinced that his endeavor was other than an old man’s folly.”
“What happened?”
“Brihann killed his own dragon mate, Ygraine, with his dragon fire.” He paused a moment as though expecting her to understand the significance of that act, but continued when she obviously did not. “In doing so, he unwittingly fulfilled the ancient prophecy and handed the Fae their victory. His demon forces watched the moment unfolding and began to retreat in panic. All knew of the words written on the Stone of Draloch.”
She listened intently as he continued, eager to absorb all she could of their lore and the Stone of Draloch. “The ground quaked and I thought the Underworld would break apart in a great cataclysmic roar. No dragon has ever murdered his dragon mate. To this day, he has shown no remorse for this act against Ygraine. Nor does he understand that he alone led to the Fae victory and our near destruction.”
Georgiana’s hand trembled as it rested on his forearm. “Is a dragon mate similar to a wife?”
His gaze upon her remained thoughtful as he nodded. “Yes, but she is much more. The union of a dragon to his mate is no mere marriage of convenience or business arrangement designed to unite families and secure land holdings. When a dragon takes a wife, it is for eternity. For this reason, his selection must be based on love. He must know to the depths of his being that she is the one for him. From the moment he takes his marriage vows, there will be no other woman for him and can never be again.”
“Is it the same for his mate?” She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice, but likely failed. Women were taught to keep themselves chaste, but no one ever frowned upon a man who spread his seed wide. At worst, he might be considered a rake. Even married men took on mistresses to tend to their carnal pleasures, and it was accepted among those in elegant society.
“I do not know.” He considered her words a moment longer and nodded. “But I think it must be.”
She could not quite bring herself to believe that Lord Bloodaxe would forsake his nightly trysts with the beautiful nymphs at his beck and call for the love of one woman. But he appeared to be sincere as he continued to explain. “Once they couple, their union is unbreakable. A dragon may have a heart that beats within his chest, but the dragon’s true heart is now his mate. When she dies, his grief is unbearable.”
Her eyes grew wide and she gaped at him. “I don’t understand. Why would you then pledge your heart to a woman? Why would you agree to a few years of happiness knowing it can only lead to an eternity of sadness?”
Even as she spoke those words, she realized it would be no difficult choice for her to make if she were ever faced with it. She’d held out for love, hadn’t she? Rejecting suitors because she wanted a marriage bound by more than columns of ciphers and land holdings.
Sadly, she’d betrayed her feelings by giving up on her convictions and accepting to marry Oliver. Mother in heaven. She couldn’t bear to have him touch her now. She wanted… no, it was not a thought worth completing.
Or rather, the thought was too dangerous to complete.
“Why would I sacrifice my happiness?” There was a husky sensuality to his voice as he broke through her thoughts to reply to her question. Its deep rumble flowed through her body, stirring her as though his lips were on her skin and pleasuring her with fiery abandon. His gaze fixed on her, the turbulent swirls of his blue eyes seeming to reach out to drag her into their depths. “Because her love is worth it.”
Oh, mercy. She was going to fall in love with this man if he didn’t stop talking soon. Had any knight in shining armor ever sounded so chivalrous? The pulse at the base of her throat began to beat furiously. She swallowed hard and a sigh or two might have escaped her lips.
Lord Bloodaxe’s gaze was smoldering. “You asked me earlier if I was still going to help you escape.”
She bobbed her head up and down, for words failed her at the moment. She doubted her ability to string together a coherent sentence.
“I will help you.” He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “It was my intent from the moment I set eyes upon you. My instinct, which rarely fails me, is still telling me that I must continue in this task. You do not belong in this wretched world of demons.”
“I don’t?” She slipped out of his grasp and turned away to hurry down the gently curved garden path toward… she didn’t know where, only that she had to get away from him before he noticed her own broken heart. Which was a ridiculous way for her to feel about Lord Bloodaxe. She didn’t want him. She was glad he meant to help her escape and even gladder that he had dismissed her as his possible dragon mate.
So why was her body crying out in sorrow?
“Georgiana, stop.” He grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let go, forcing her to come to a halt. “Did you misunderstand me? I said I would help you escape.”
“I heard you.” She tried to squirm away before he noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry, of course. The notion that she would was absurd.
“Why are you overset?” He appeared genuinely confused.
In truth, so was she.
“I’m not,” she insisted, concentrating on her toes. She was fighting the ridiculous impulse to behave foolishly and knew she’d make an utter goose of herself if she dared to look him squarely in the eyes. How could a demon make her feel this way? She wanted to throw her arms around him and beg to be allowed to stay. This desire to remain with him made no sense at all. No doubt, he’d be appalled if she ever made her feelings known.
Indeed, she was appalled by her wayward thoughts. His world frightened her, but she felt as though she could endure anything while he was by her side.
“Georgiana?”
Oh, my. The husky rumble in his voice was once again soothing and devastatingly alluring. “Perhaps I am a little overset,” she admitted. “The way you spoke about your dragon mate just now… it’s what I’ve always wanted. But I betrayed my principals and was ready to settle for someone I didn’t love. I’m ashamed of myself. More so because I thought of you as a soulless creature, but I, not you, am that very thing.”
He ran the pad of his thumb gently across her cheek. “Do not judge yourself too harshly. You’re not wrong. All demons are creatures with damaged souls. Many have already lost their soul and will never reclaim it.”
“But you still have yours.” She finally mustered the courage to meet his gaze. If one looked beyond the layer of ice, one would find the heart of a gallant warrior.
He frowned. “Don’t mistake my ability to reason for anything more than it is. I am a demon. I kill if I’m challenged and feel no remorse for my acts.”
“Then why are you so gentle with me? Is not such tenderness reserved only for your dragon mate?”
He drew his hand away. “Let’s walk. I need to consider how to slip you out of here unnoticed.” He continued to glance at her from time to time as they made their way deeper into his garden. His dogs had stopped running about and were now stretched out and panting beneath a nearby shade tree. Lord Bloodaxe spared them a passing glance, but his attention was mostly on her. “Seems your gown is too long. I’ve noticed that you keep tripping over the hem as you walk.”
She nodded. “It is nothing. I can fix it later.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.” Once again, she tipped her chin up in indignation. There was a dismissive quality in his tone that rankled her. “All I need is a needle and thread to… Why are you smirking?”
One of his dark eyebrows arched up. “Am I? I hadn’t realized I was.”
But she was determined to disabuse him of the notion that she was helpless in all things. “Do you believe I am useless because I’m a duke’s daughter?” She placed her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “I’ll have you know that my parents did not pamper me. I learned to sew and knit and embroider. I also learned to cook and bake.” She paused, realizing that she may have taken offense when none was meant, and cast him an impish smirk. “Although I would not wish my biscuits on anyone. Cook broke a tooth when she tested one of them.”
She simply melted when he graced her with a wickedly delicious smile in response to her admission.
“That bad?” The seductive smolder in his gaze sent her heart into palpitations.
She cleared her throat. “I was also taught how to manage an estate and keep accurate ledgers. They trained me to be a capable consort to… Why are you smirking at me again?”
“I’m not, Georgiana. I’m admiring you. There is a difference.” He took a step back and gave a quick wave of his hand.
She felt a soft, tingling sensation rush through her body. “What did you just do to me?”
“Not to you, but to your hem. I fixed it.” She barely had a moment to glance down and inspect his handiwork before he took her by the elbow and moved them along the garden pathway. “See, you’re not tripping over it any longer.”
She shook her head and laughed. “How are you with baking biscuits?” She was not surprised by his abilities whether in battle or in the domestic realm, for everything about this demon lord felt magical.
“Never tried conjuring them.” His humor suddenly faded. “But I might have to resort to it once we’re in hiding. I’ll give you a pouch of supplies to take with you on your climb up the Razor Cliffs. You may need to hide out for several days afterward and will require food and drink to sustain you.”
Georgiana felt her eyes well with tears once more, but managed to maintain control. She refused to turn into a watering pot at the thought of parting from him. He was a stranger to her and a dangerous one at that. She knelt, pretending to study a bed of red roses, for she did not want him to notice that she could not shake off her sorrow. “Will I see you again, assuming I ever make it out of here?”
“Hopefully not.”
She shot back to her feet and turned to face him, all thought of hiding her feelings forgotten. “Why not? Why can’t we?”
“By the Stone of Draloch,” he muttered with a shake of his head, “you ought to be pleased that your nightmare will soon come to an end. Why would you ever wish to see me again? I can only bring death and destruction to your door.”
“No, you would protect me.” She was about to place a hand on his arm, then realized it was his wounded arm, so she set her hand over his heart instead. “Can you conjure a basin of water and a cloth? Is your wound deep enough to require stitches? If so, I’ll also need a needle and thread to–”
“Georgiana, I will take care of it later. I do not need you to fuss over me.” He drew back as though her hand was a flame and her touch had burned him.
“Forgive me.” She had intended no insult, but he seemed to have taken it that way. “I did not mean to suggest you cannot manage for yourself. I only sought to be useful.”
He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I know. But you cannot help me. No, let me correct that. You can only help me by getting out of here and then staying as far away from me as possible. You and I must never see each other again.”
“Never?”
He spelled it out for her. “N-e-v-e-r. How much plainer must I say it?”