“What, brat?”
“I said she’ll want to return to her men as soon as she can.”
“I know.”
His sister smiled up at him. “And will you be ready for that, idiot?”
“It’s Lord Idiot to you.” Fearghus rested his head on his crossed forearms. “And yes, brat. I will be.”
No matter how beautiful Annwyl was to him, he wouldn’t get involved with some human girl. He would simply let her heal, then send her back to her people. And that would be the end of that.
Chapter 3
Annwyl dreamed again. Ever since that bastard’s sword impaled her, the same dream returned to her over and over again. Of a beautiful man with long black hair and dark brown eyes. Tall, powerful, and strong of body. Standing over her, he would wipe her brow and softly whisper that she would live. And once, in her favorite dream, he’d kissed her. The softest, sweetest kiss she’d ever received.
And every time she woke up and found him not there, the same twinge of regret tightened her chest and made her body ache. The same twinge of longing racked her waking hours.
Long ago Annwyl gave up hope that she’d ever find a man she could love and respect. The warriors at her brother’s castle were brutish, rude, and often brainless. By the time she escaped and went on to lead her army, she’d become almost dead inside. Over the two years she led the rebellion a few of her men showed her some interest . . . until something made her angry. Then they all seemed to drift away. Unlike the dragon. He didn’t shrink from her rage. He appeared to enjoy it. Greatly.
The strange way of man and beast. It never failed to confuse her.
She wondered where she’d created this dream lover from. Had she ever seen the man before? Perhaps in one of the towns or villages that aided her troops? Or perhaps she created him from her own imagination. She knew not. But lately she’d begun to regret having to wake up.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her, as he always did. He stroked her face with his large, strong hand. She sighed contentedly and smiled. He returned it with a smile of his own. Annwyl felt bold in this dream world. Brazen. She reached out a hand and slid it around the back of his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. She liked this dream lover, he didn’t resist her. Instead he let her lead him. When their lips met, her whole body responded. Intense heat from his body licked over her flesh. Her ni**les tightened and grew hard, begging for the touch of those strong hands of his. Heat and moisture pulsed between her legs. She experienced things she never felt before. And she wanted more.
His tongue licked across her lips and she instinctively opened her mouth to let him in. She moaned as his tongue slid across and around hers, and her body arched as she tried to get closer to him. She wanted her dream lover. In her bed. In her.
But he pulled away from her. She grasped for him . . . and found herself face down on the floor. Again.
“By all that’s . . .” She pushed herself up as Morfyd hurried
to her side.
“By the gods, lass. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes.” She took Morfyd’s arm and allowed the woman to help her sit back on the bed. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t keep ending up on the floor. Now it was just getting embarrassing.
“You should leave her there. She looks adorable. Like a
puppy.”Annwyl turned narrowed eyes on her dragon rescuer as he sat by the entrance to this part of his lair. “Quiet, dragon,” she warned playfully. She’d become used to the dragon lingering near her. Teasing her. In fact, she found she started to like it. To like him.
Morfyd examined her wound, already less painful then it was the previous day. “Why do I keep finding you on the floor,” Morfyd asked with a slight mixture of annoyance and humor.
“I keep having this dream about a man. . . .” Remembering they were not alone, Annwyl stopped. She cleared her throat. “Uh . . . it’s nothing though.” Morfyd only glanced at her, then she turned two suddenly angry eyes on the dragon. Annwyl watched as the dragon looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps examining it for cracks.
“So, how long before I can return to my men?”
“Well—” was all Morfyd got out before the dragon cut
her off.
“We need to make sure you’re well first. Wouldn’t want you to get caught in a battle still weak.”
Annwyl shrugged. “That’s fine. I just worry about my men. They need to know I’m alive. I don’t want them to . . .”
“Give up hope?” Morfyd gently asked as she cleaned off the wound and placed another bandage over it.
“Aye. I can’t desert them now.”
“You’re not. And I doubt they will give up hope.” Morfyd straightened up. “But I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you some food.” Morfyd left, punching the dragon in his side as she walked past him. Had the witch gone mad? Did she not see his fangs?
“Tell me, dragon, do you have anything to read?”
“Read?”
“Yes. Does your kind read?”
“Of course we read!”
“Don’t yell.”
The dragon growled at her and she fought her smile.
“Come on then.” He headed off deep into his lair. Annwyl wrapped the fur covering tight around her naked body and followed.
* * *
Definitely one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. He really couldn’t believe he was doing it. He turned a corner and led her to the right. He could have just brought her some books. Dropped them right into her lap. Instead he led her here. He led a human to his treasure. What the hell am I thinking?