Heart Of The Dragon

“She says she doesn’t know.”

Dai leaped to his feet. “Did she hit her head on the way up the wall?” He slammed his empty cup onto the table. “Or did you hit yours? Enough of your foolery, milord. ‘Tis a jest, am I right?”

“’Tis no jest. ‘Tis more a puzzle.” He walked over to the bed and stared down at the place where Lily had sprawled. He could see her there still, her hair shining against the dull gray coverlet. That image had haunted his dreams, just as the look on her face when he agreed to help her had dominated his thoughts throughout the day. Mayhap he’d have time to see her before the evening meal. He’d take Dai to meet her, he decided, instead of simply sending him—

“Come on then, milord,” Dai said, cutting into his thoughts. “Can’t say something like that, then leave me hanging. Tell me more.”

“In good time. Will you allow me to finish dressing, or must I parade through the bailey bare-assed?” Ian asked as he settled a clean tunic over his shirt and leggings.

Dai snorted. “Aye, the ladies’d like that, I make no doubt. Not that you’d notice. Never saw a man turn away so many invitations as you, milord.”

“It’s not me they want, but the chance to bed the Dragon. Besides, ‘tis damned difficult to lay a wench who’s staring at you with fear in her eyes,” Ian said with disgust.

“So don’t look at their eyes. Christ, how’d you get so choosy? If the lass is a toothsome armful and willing, what does the rest matter?”

“It matters to me.” Ian scanned the room for his cloak before he remembered he’d left it with Lily. He didn’t need it, anyway. His blood had flowed hot from the moment he first tussled with her. The feel of her in his arms remained imprinted upon his body.

And his mind.

Dai’s words made him think of her vivid green eyes. He had recognized many things in her gaze when it rested so steadily upon him. But he hadn’t seen fear among them.

Jesu, he grew maudlin! Next thing he knew, he’d start composing a song about the way her hair glowed in the candlelight. Perhaps he’d spent too much time in his Norman brother-in-law’s company and his courtly manners had rubbed off on him.

A quick glance at the sky through the window slit showed the sun hovering just above the horizon. If he wanted to take Dai to meet Lily before supper, they had best go now.

“Come along, old man,” he said, urging Dai away from the mead and out the door. “I’ll show you a woman who doesn’t know how to fear.”

“Indeed, milord.” Dai squinted at his face in the dim light of the corridor; Ian felt the measuring weight of his scrutiny. “And how would you know that?”

“She calls me Dragon.”

Ian fought back a smile as they left the tower and crossed the bailey. Seldom did he move Dai to silence, but the other man hadn’t said a word since his last comment. Although he valued Dai’s counsel, and trusted him implicitly, he often found himself only half listening as he prattled on.

He picked up his pace as he led the way down the stairs into the cellars, but then stopped dead in the corridor. No guard stood outside the cell.

And the bar to the door lay on the floor, as though tossed aside in haste.

Motioning to Dai to keep silent, Ian drew his sword and crept forward, then pushed on the door. It swung inward in a slow, creaking arc, revealing the darkness within.

Dai snatched a torch from the wall and handed it to him. Sword at the ready, Ian entered the cell.

He paced the narrow boundaries, but of Lily he found no sign. The three-legged stool sat where he’d placed it, his cloak draped over the seat, the only clues that his visit hadn’t been a dream.

“Lord Ian.”

He whirled at the sound of Dai’s voice, then kicked the stool aside and snatched his cloak off the floor. “Where is she?”

The formless suspicions he’d harbored after meeting with Llywelyn crowded into his head, a jumble of curiosity and accusation, barely noticed hints that something wasn’t right. He should have followed his instincts, sent Dai off to investigate sooner, instead of—

“Mayhap Llywelyn let her go,” Dai commented.

“He hadn’t agreed to see her. Even if he decided to meet with her, he would have sent for me to be there, as well. I’m the one who questioned her.”

“What does it matter, lad? She was here, now she’s gone. You said yourself she didn’t know who she was.” Dai shook his head. “I know for a fact you’ve got more important work to do than this.”

But it did matter. “There’s something strange about this. The situation Lily described seemed odd.” He righted the stool and sat down, his mind working furiously. “I want you to go to Saint Winifred’s Abbey once we discover what has happened here. I’m certain you’ll have better luck finding answers than a lone young woman would,” he said pointedly.

“Aye, milord.”

“But first we need to find her.” Ian rose to his feet. “Come. Let’s see what Llywelyn has to say about this.”

The prince had yet to leave his chamber for supper, which suited Ian’s purpose. He’d rather not discuss the mysterious Lily before all and sundry in the hall.

Once the meal ended, the revelry would begin. And when the wine began to flow, any kind of conversation would be impossible.

“May we speak with you privately, milord?” Ian asked. At Llywelyn’s nod, he ushered Dai into the chamber. “I’ve matters of importance to discuss.”

Llywelyn returned his attention to a basin of water as Ian pulled the door closed with a sharp snap. His expression revealed nothing but impatience as he took his time drying his hands on a strip of fine linen.

Tossing the towel aside, he crossed the room to a table in the center and picked up a jeweled chalice. “Would you care for wine?” He poured the deep red liquid from a pitcher, sending the scent of spices wafting through the air.

Ian declined the wine and the offer of a chair, then waited impatiently as Dai accepted a goblet and joined the prince at the table. Finally the niceties were satisfied, and Ian got down to business.

“I went back to see the girl, to tell her you would deal with her once you had more time.” He watched his kinsman’s face with interest, although he kept his own expression casual, disinterested. “I planned to release her from the cell, since she poses no threat to anyone.” He toyed with a thread on the sleeve of his tunic, continuing to observe Llywelyn from beneath lowered brows. “I was surprised to find she wasn’t there.”

All Llywelyn’s attention seemed focused upon his wine. Then he glanced up and met Ian’s gaze. Ian could see nothing in the other man’s face but a mild annoyance, gone so swiftly he might have imagined it.

“You needn’t have bothered,” Llywelyn said. “Any more than you should have bothered me with her tale in the first place. I know nothing of her or her mother, and so I told her.”

“Then where is she?” Ian demanded.

“She had no wish to stay, once she saw I could not help her. A guard escorted her from the castle.” Llywelyn raised the goblet to his lips and avoided Ian’s scrutiny. “She’s here no longer. Beyond that, I cannot say.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_07091da1-ba93-54e3-977d-a34f0e0df41b)

A light glowed before her, shining through a small slit set high in the door. She had to be dreaming. Lily raised her head from her updrawn knees and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked again, but the light didn’t disappear. Instead, it shone brighter.

“Who’s there?” she called, slowly rising to her feet. A strange shuffling noise, accompanied by the rustle of fabric, came from the corridor. No one answered.

She had no way to mark the passage of time, but her rumbling stomach told her that many hours had passed since she’d broken her fast. Perhaps one of the guards had returned with food. They had to feed her sometime—didn’t they?

Though her body protested with every step, she made her way toward the door. The wide, metal-banded planks felt solid and impenetrable when she leaned her weight against them. She ran her hand along the edge, where the door met rough plaster and stone, but she couldn’t find a handle. Anyone lodged here was meant to stay.

She had to crane her neck to see out the window. The glare from a torch blinded her, but her nose worked all too well. Coughing, she moved down from the opening and slumped back against the wall.

She couldn’t imagine anything that could cause such an indescribable stench. Whatever it was had to be on the other side of the door. Even the dank, fetid air of her cell smelled better.

She filled her lungs before rising on tiptoe to peer out once more. She blinked several times, until her vision adjusted to the brightness.