What a Dragon Should Know
“You could have done that back there.”
He let out a sigh. “You’re right. Sorry I bothered.”
She watched him turn, heading back to Garbhán Isle. Cranky and rude as always, he was. What was it about her that irritated him so? He was so nice to everyone else.
She bit her lip a moment before she said, “They say you’re going to the north with Grandmum’s armies.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “I am.”
“Will you miss me at all?”
He let out another sigh, more aggravated than the last. “Of course I will.” He faced her again. “I’m your uncle and I’ll miss you.”
“Gwenvael’s my uncle. Fearghus. You’re not my uncle, Éibhear.”
“Izzy—”
“You’ll never be my uncle.”
“I’m not talking about this anymore.”
“The way Celyn isn’t my cousin.”
His silver eyes glinted in the early-morning suns and he snapped, “Going to play that game now are you, princess?”
“He likes me.”
“For now. Until he gets what he wants and gets bored.”
“He’s nice and he’s too terrified of Briec to be cruel.”
“But if you’re in love with him—”
“I’m not.”
He tried to hide it, but she knew she saw relief on that infinitely beautiful face. “At least you’re going to be smart about it,” he muttered.
“He’ll never have my heart, Éibhear.”
“Good—”
“Not like you do.”
“Izzy …” He began to back away from her. “Stop.”
“Go to the north, Éibhear. Go wherever you want. It won’t make a bit of difference. Because when the time is right … You’ll be mine.”
“That’s it. You’re a spoiled brat and impossible to deal with.”
“But you love me anyway.”
“No, Izzy. I don’t. Get it into your thick head already. You’re my brother’s daughter and that means something with my kin. But, at the end of the day, you’re not my problem. Still, try not to get yourself killed, eh?”
Hurt, but not willing to show it, she said, “I’ll try to avoid that.”
He nodded at her and walked off.
“And don’t worry,” she told his back. “I wasn’t planning on waiting for you.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.”
“I’ve always felt my virginity should go to someone who actually earns it.”
And that’s when Éibhear tripped over his own feet and went head first into the trunk of a rather large tree.
“Gods dammit!” he roared, gripping his head.
Not inclined to wait around, Izzy quickly spun on her heel and ran to meet with her already moving troops.
Dagmar quickly crawled to the edge of the ridge and lifted her large spectacles to her face. “Dammit! We missed it.”
“Mhhmm?”
Gwenvael’s arm went around her waist and he began kissing her lower back. “This is your fault,” she accused, trying to ignore the feel of his mouth against her bare skin.
“Probably.” He moved lower. “But do you really mind?”
“Yes!” she lied.
“Liar.”
His tongue began to trace the lines of his Claiming mark. Dagmar’s eyes crossed and she lowered the extra spectacles before she dropped them.
“You make the worst spy,” she accused.
They’d come up there to watch Baron Lord Craddock’s wife entertain herself with one of Annwyl’s soldiers. Yet Dagmar had been overwhelmingly delighted when it turned out her liaison was with a local pig farmer who, she’d heard from Morfyd, had a strange affection for his merchandise and rarely bathed.
Unfortunately when things began to turn interesting between the farmer and her ladyship and strange snorting sounds began to be used—by both—Gwenvael had completely distracted her … several times.
How was she to get anything done when he kept doing that to her?
“Don’t blame me because you can’t keep quiet.” He kissed and licked his way up her back. “I think it was that last scream that frightened them off. Now aren’t you sorry I didn’t gag you as I suggested?”
“If you gag me, I won’t be able to scream for help.”
He nipped her shoulder and dug his hand into her hair, turning her head so he could take her mouth. His kiss was long and lingering, and she relaxed into it, letting him take what he wanted from her.
Pleasure and happiness—at one time she’d never dared to hope for these. Now she had more than she knew what to do with.
He rolled her to her back, his hands sliding up her sides and to her arms. As if time didn’t matter, his kiss went on and on while his fingers gently stroked her skin. It wasn’t until her arms were pinned over her head that he pulled from their kiss and softly asked, “So what were you and Fearghus talking about earlier?”
Quickly forgetting about the Craddocks and their bitter, unhappy lives, Dagmar sighed. “Nothing much.”
He entered her slowly, Dagmar’s body arching into his while he planted tiny kisses against her jaw and throat.
“My lovely Dagmar,” he murmured. “Such an excellent little liar.”
Dagmar’s squeal of protest rang out and she kicked and tried to pull her arms away, but Gwenvael refused to release her as he mercilessly tickled her.