The Dragon in the Stone Read online

  “Humans.” His dragon hissed his answer, and Magda sighed.

  The woman stirred as he lowered her down. Her eyes fluttered open and widened briefly, when her gaze settled on the scar on his face.

  Clenching his jaw, Drorgan hastily withdrew into the shadows the oil lamps didn’t reach. He didn’t want to see those brown eyes fill with disgust, when she realized the extent of his scarring. Legacy of the many humans who’d tried to best the dragon in times gone past. Though why he should care of what this human thought of him was beyond him right now.

  “There, there, relax, my child. You’re perfectly safe here.” Magda’s soothing voice calmed down his agitated beast like it always did, and he could see it had the same effect on the unknown woman in his bed. She stopped struggling to sit up, and sank back down into the covers with a cough.

  “Don’t try to talk either. That throat looks sore. I’m going to tend to that in a minute. First things, first, let’s get you out of these torn clothes. Don’t worry, that big lout will turn around.” Magda threw him a meaningful look, and Drorgan dutifully turned his back on the bed. Too bad that he could see the whole scene unfolding reflected back at him through the stained glass window. Angled as it was to make the most out of the sun when it came up in the morning, it now afforded a perfect, if slightly distorted, view of long limbs and curves to die for. Her breasts fell free when Magda helped her out of the lacy see-though contraption that held them confined, and Drorgan’s mouth watered with the need to taste that ample flesh. The rosy nipples, hardening in the coolness of the room, acted like a shining beacon, and his cock stiffened in his breeches.

  Behave yourself and stop that now.

  Magda’s voice in his head stopped him mid adjusting himself, and he froze when she laughed.

  She’s not up for any of that, and besides, if she really is the one we have been waiting for all these years, it won’t do to scare her away with your boorish attitude.

  Drorgan glared at Magda’s reflection in the window, and his nursemaid raised the eyebrows of doom at him. You could always tell how annoyed Magda was by the way those thin grey lines communicated the state of her feelings.

  I’m not boorish, and you’re jumping to conclusions, again. She’s not the one. She can’t be.

  The second eyebrow twitched, and cold sweat ran down between Drorgan’s shoulder blades.

  Then why did you bring her here, if she’s not important to you?

  Drorgan had no answer for that, so he shrugged his shoulders, and blowing out a fiery breath set the fire alight in the fireplace instead.

  The woman on the bed gasped, and then cried out in pain as Magda twisted her dislocated shoulder back into place. The click sounded too loud in the quietness of his chamber, and his dragon itched to come out.

  Hearing the woman’s soft tears, as she valiantly tried to ride the pain he sensed in her, as Magda set to work on her injuries, was too much. Not caring what anyone else might think of his actions, he yanked the door to his chamber open. The move almost sent the kitchen maid—what was her name?—Ursula, Miriam, or some such like—flying into the room. It was only due to his lightning fast reflexes that the tray containing the chicken broth didn’t end up on the floor.

  His stomach growled loudly as the delicious scent of the soup invaded his nostrils, and Magda laughed softly behind him.

  “Don’t mind him, my dear. He’s like all men, a dragon with a sore head, when he’s hungry.”

  Drorgan didn’t wait for the response. Instead he stormed off, took the stairs to the tallest turret three at a time and once up there, leapt off the top. His dragon emerged mid jump, and he took off across the sea. Time to hunt and appease one of his hungers at least. That way, he would have a chance in hell of keeping his hands off the woman in his bed. His bed for fuck’s sake. The sooner Eugene got that guest room sorted the better for everyone’s sake.

  Giving his dragon full rein he crashed into the frigid waters of the Irish Sea, collecting his fair share of fish on the way. Cook would appreciate a fresh influx of sea food, and with a bit of luck, by the time he was finished freezing his butt off his ardor for the unknown woman in his bed would have cooled also.

  ****

  Rhonda stared at the silver haired old lady dressed in simple, roughhewn clothes that could have come straight out of a medieval novel, back to the door, which still quivered on its hinges, having been slammed shut by … by who exactly? It hurt her head too much to try to figure this out, especially as all she had seen of the man was his impossibly broad shoulders, straining the fabric of his tunic across his back, those piercing blue eyes, set in a face made from granite with the wicked looking scar running down to his mouth.

  If she was still dreaming—and surely she had to be, because this was all too fucked up to be real, wasn’t it—then she really must stop eating cheese before bed.

  And if it wasn’t a dream, then she was in deep shit. The pounding in her head increased in tune to the soft words spoken by this woman, and more waves of pain assaulted her body.

  “There, sweet child, I know it hurts, but you will heal. Try and eat something and then you can rest. You need to sleep to let your body heal itself. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, it seems.”

  A cool spoon placed on her bottom lip, meant she opened her mouth instinctively, and the warm soothing broth—chicken, unless her senses were completely off—slid down her bruised throat. That, too, left a trail of fire behind, and Rhonda shook her head.

  “Too sore to eat? Poor thing. Drink this then… Yes, you must.” The voice grew more urgent, demanding in its intensity, as something cold and rather foul-tasting invaded her mouth.

  “Yes, I know it tastes awful, but it will not harm you. Just make you sleep. There you are now, rest.”

  Rhonda struggled against the sluggishness coursing through her veins as her limbs grew heavy, but it was useless. Whatever she had been given made it impossible to stay awake, and Rhonda gave up trying to do anything other than what her body urged her to do.

  Chapter Four

  “It’s been three days. Surely she ought to be allowed to wake up now.” Drorgan leaned against the door frame to his bedchamber, and scowled at the hive of activity in what once had been his sanctuary.

  Servants were carrying buckets of water up to his antechamber where a hollowed out stone served as a bathing chamber, and Magda was hovering around the pale woman in his bed like a mother hen.

  “I told you she will, when she is ready, hence we’re getting a bath ready for her. Stop glaring and make yourself useful and heat that water. I think she’s coming ‘round.”

  Sure enough a cock-hardening moan came from the woman in his bed, and Drorgan couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of her stretching like a cat. It made the sheet slip, exposing one creamy shoulder. The thin night rail Magda had procured for their guest did little to hide her assets from view, and Drorgan swallowed a groan of his own.

  Magda shook his head at him, and taking the hint, he stalked off to the little chamber now bathed in sunlight. The servants scuttled away, having deposited the last bucket of water, and Drorgan stuck his hand into the bath, allowing his dragon’s fire to transfer to the liquid.

  The murmur of female voices carrying through the heavy stone walls made his shoulder blades itch. He couldn’t quite hear the woman’s replies as the water bubbled up at the point of boiling, obscuring his hearing, but he sensed her approach.

  Drorgan had just enough time to pull his hand out of the bathtub before he heard the soft gasp behind him, and he crunched his jaw in disgust. That’s what he got for caring. He should have stayed away, far away, but no matter how hard he tried, his dragon had insisted time and time again to seek out the woman slumbering in his bed.

  The only rest Drorgan had managed to get had been curled up in the overstuffed chair by the fire. Close enough to her to keep an eye on her, yet far away enough to not give into the temptation to touch her pale skin, or to slip in under the cov
ers with her, when she had thrashed about in her sleep, mumbling unintelligible sounds. More than once she had murmured his name in that throaty voice of hers. It had meant sleep had eluded him completely. She must have picked it up from the servant’s chatter around her sleeping form when they came to tidy the room during the day, because she couldn’t know who he was.

  Drorgan always made sure he was well away in the morning, though he knew Magda, at least, would have noticed his presence. No matter how much he ruffled up the bedcovers in one of the guest rooms, one sniff with Magda’s dragon enhanced senses would have told her he hadn’t slept in that bed since the night it had been made.

  Which no doubt explained why he felt so out of sorts. Nothing he did soothed the churning in his gut, nothing bar sitting and watching over the sleeping beauty.

  And beautiful she most certainly was, even with the bruises marring her skin.

  “Rhonda, really, you need to take it easy.” Magda’s voice held a hint of humor as though she found this whole situation highly amusing, whereas Drorgan doubted his hearing. Had his old nursemaid just called the woman Rhonda?

  The tentative touch of slender fingertips on his shoulder made him freeze. It couldn’t be.

  “It seems Rhonda here knows you, Drorgan.”

  He shook his head and forced a denial past his lips.

  “That’s impossible.”

  Another soft gasp brought with it Rhonda’s scent, and he balled his hands into fists when she stepped so close that the weight of her breasts rested against his back. Predictably his cock took that as an invitation and roared to life with a speed that left him rather lightheaded, as all his blood shot south.

  “The water is ready. I must go.”

  Coward.

  Magda’s voice in his head made him spin round. He had every intention of sidestepping the wide eyed woman now in front of him, but Rhonda swayed as though she was going to fall, and he grasped her round the waist to steady her. The action meant that the entire length of her delectable curves molded against his body, and there was no way on earth she would miss how much he wanted her. Sure enough her toffee colored eyes widened a fraction, the pupils dilating, and it took every ounce of willpower Drorgan possessed to not reach out and pull her in with his magic. To claim the sweet lips, to taste her, to take what her body offered, and damn the consequences.

  However, that’s how he had ended up in this living nightmare that was his existence in the first place, and if this woman really was the sweet little Rhonda he’d spent that memorable night with, then he needed to stay far away from her.

  Turning his head to the left on purpose he exposed his scar to the sunlight streaming into the room, and Rhonda stiffened.

  There, that should put her off for good. Just like she had done as a child, this woman surprised him, however. She wriggled to bring her hand up, until her fingertips traced the scar. The innocent action left his skin on fire, and he shut his eyes to stop one of his senses at least.

  “Thank you for saving me, Drorgan.” Her whispered words forced his eyes open, and he swallowed hard when his gaze connected with hers. “I never got a chance to say that as a child. It bothered me.”

  “You said it plenty to the stone.”

  Rhonda smiled up at him, and, fuck him if her smile didn’t light up the room, and make his dragon want to curl up at her feet. Why wasn’t she afraid of him, dammit? She was supposed to be horrified, not look up at him as though the sun rose and set in his eyes.

  “You could hear me?” she asked.

  Drorgan grunted in answer, earning himself a snide remark in his head from Magda, who was watching his interaction with Rhonda with a satisfied grin on her face.

  “He isn’t normally this shy in talking, Rhonda.”

  Drorgan glared at Magda over Rhonda’s head, and a giggle escaped the woman in his arms. Belatedly he realized he was still holding onto her far too tightly, and stepping away he extricated himself, while holding onto her elbow and steering her toward he bath tub.

  “Like I said I have somewhere to be. The water should be at the right temperature now.”

  With those words he took off as though the hounds of hell were after him.

  ****

  “Thank you.” Rhonda’s words hung in the still air where her rescuer had stood seconds before. Her hot as Hades, grumpy as hell, and huge as a mountain dragon had stood. Her dragon, who clearly was capable of shifting into a man, and…

  Ronda’s brain refused to work, and she sank down onto the side of the stone bath, grateful for the seat as her legs gave up any pretense of holding her up anymore.

  “Holy shit, that did just happen, right?”

  The elderly lady, under whose care Rhonda had struggled awake mere minutes ago, smiled and nodded.

  “I’m not entirely sure that body function could ever be described as holy, but if you mean to express your surprise at Lord Drorgan being here, then I can assure you he was. This is his bedchamber, after all.”

  Heat rose in Rhonda’s cheeks as images of the two off them entangled in a sweaty heap immediately bombarded her brain. He had definitely responded to her after all, if the massive erection that had branded her lower belly was any indication. She barely resisted the urge to touch her abdomen, all too aware of the way the other woman was studying her.

  “You mean he rescued me again, and then I turfed the man out of his own bed. He is a man right?” Magda’s smile deepened when Rhonda looked across to her, and when she nodded, Rhonda breathed a sigh of relief.

  “As well as a dragon, yes, dear, but don’t worry over all of that now. He’ll tell you his story in good time, I’m sure, and if he doesn’t…”

  The woman’s smile grew impish, and she winked at her.

  “You’ll find all the answers you need in the library.”

  Rhonda’s heart beat faster at the mention of books, and she couldn’t keep her excitement out of her voice.

  “You have a library here?”

  Magda laughed, and stepping up to her, loosened the strings holding Rhonda’s night dress together. The material slipped off her shoulders and fell into a heap around her hips.

  “Lord Drorgan’s castle is self-sufficient, as you will find out. You’ll have plenty of time to explore it once you’ve had a good soak to ease those muscles. You’ve been asleep for three days, aided by my sleeping draught, as you needed to heal. The ordeal you went through was very hard on your body. Humans are such fragile beings after all.”

  A shiver of dread went down Rhonda’s spine at the odd choice of words. Magda made it sound as though the woman wasn’t human, and she looked perfectly normal to her. Even in her head Rhonda winced at that choice of words. What was normal anyway?

  Surely she had left normal behind that night twenty-five years ago, when she’d witnessed a dragon emerge from a stone in the river, just like she’d been rescued this time ‘round by the same dragon. A dragon, which had the ability to morph into one of the most imposing men she had ever met. A man who sent her pussy into spasms with just one look from those piercing blue eyes, so that she had melted into his embrace like some sort of wanton offering … oh God, what must he think of her?

  “I can sense your emotions jumping all over the places, my dear. Stop worrying over all that now, and have a soak. Ring the bell when you’re ready to come out, and I’ll send Miriam up to help you get dressed. She’s one of the kitchen maids, but she’s rather got an eye for ladies’ clothes, so she will do as your ladies’ maid while you stay at the castle.”

  Rhonda managed a grunt in response, and Magda smiled.

  “I suspect you will want to relieve yourself, too.” She pointed to another seat, seemingly carved out of stone at the opposite end of the chamber. “If you lift the lid and just do what you have to, it will be taken care of.”

  “Right.”

  Magda’s smile deepened while Rhoda inwardly rolled her eyes at her seeming inability to speak in anything other than monosyllables.

  �
�I’ll leave you to it then.” Magda turned to leave and then seeming to think better of it, looked at her. Rhonda was shocked to the core to see the moisture lurking in the other woman’s eyes.

  “Don’t let him scare you away. He will try to do that out of some misguided sense of honor, but he needs you. We all do, so whatever happens, please keep an open mind, and try not to jump to conclusions.”

  Rhonda nodded, more confused than ever, and rather miffed that anyone would think that of her.

  “I’m not in the habit of jumping to anything, conclusions or otherwise. I’ve always preferred to form my own opinions.”

  She tried her best not to fidget under Magda’s searching gaze, especially considering that she was sitting half naked on the edge of a bath in what looked to be a medieval castle of sorts, lord only knew where and when. That thought made her heart miss a beat.

  “Tell me what year is it, and where exactly am I, Magda.”

  The old woman sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

  “I believe people in your time frame call this the coast of Ireland. It had a different name when Lord Drorgan was a mere boy. As to what year it is, I couldn’t rightfully say. Time moves differently in the castle than elsewhere, and I have already said too much. I must go. Enjoy your soak, my dear.”

  With that, Magda left, the dull thud of the massive oak doors shutting behind her in the bed chamber signaling her departure.

  Now that she was alone, the urgent demands of her bladder took uppermost precedence in her mind, and it was with a certain amount of trepidation that she approached the stone seat, and lifted up the wooden cover.

  Well, at least that looked vaguely familiar, not unlike the toilets they had back home. Having taken care of business, Rhonda sent a pitcher of water from her bath down into the abyss for good measure. Heaven only knew where it led. For all she knew she might have just splashed some unfortunate passerby in the courtyard. Then again, they were on the wrong side of the castle, weren’t they?