What a Dragon Should Know
Page 81
“Good evening to you,” she said.
The male looked up at her and then around as if he expected her to be speaking to someone else.
“Um … good evening?”
“I don’t remember seeing you at the dinner.” She held her hand out for him to grasp it, and, after a pause, he did just that, helping her to settle comfortably on the boulder.
“I didn’t attend. I’m searching for my wandering mate. Some days I don’t think she loves me at all.”
“Traveling has an allure of its own. I know that now. And perhaps the time away strengthens her love for you.”
“She may have said that one or two times. But I miss her.”
He smiled and Dagmar had to hold back a little sigh. He was astoundingly beautiful with his long dark hair and violet-colored eyes. She’d love to meet the female, dragon or human, who’d willingly wander away from him.
“Are you meeting someone out here tonight?” he asked.
“Doubtful.” The image of Gwenvael taking that royal back to his room had not left her head. “I just needed a bit of fresh air.”
“And some time to yourself. Noisy lot,” he added, motioning toward the castle.
“Very noisy. But not what I expected.”
“Everyone expects the worst of dragons. They can’t help themselves.” His head cocked to the side. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
Dagmar nodded. “As you wish.”
“It was nice”—he looked at her strangely—“talking to you.”
She didn’t know why he seemed so surprised she’d talked to him, but she didn’t care enough to ask.
“And you.”
He gave her a very courtly bow before walking off into the surrounding woods. She watched him go, impressed with the rear view as much as the front one.
“Reason preserve me,” she muttered, appalled with herself.
She turned back around, her entire body jolting when she heard, “I thought I told you to wait in your room and be naked?”
With one hand against her chest, she raised the other. She was appalled at herself even more now that she’d allowed the Gold to startle her.
“Well?” he pushed.
“Don’t snarl at me. And I didn’t see the point of being in my room waiting for you when you seemed to be off with someone else.”
“I was?”
“Do you not remember the royal draped around your neck like a noose?”
“The duchess you mean?”
“Yes. Her.”
“Why would I waste my time with her when I thought I had you waiting in your room for me?”
“To quote my father, ‘Bigger tits?’ ”
“You think so little of me.”
“No, actually. I don’t.”
He casually walked around the boulder until he faced her. “My brother Éibhear says you’re too smart for me.”
“Your brother Éibhear spends too much time in his books and staring at Izzy.”
“Annwyl said you defended me to Morfyd.”
“I was simply clarifying the situation to her.”
“I appreciate your clarification then. It means much to me.”
He grabbed her hands and held her arms away from her body. “I do like this dress on you. Fannie has a good eye.”
“She knew not to bring me something garish. I appreciate that. And thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re very welcome. Now come down here.”
Gwenvael stepped back and she carefully slid to the ground.
“Take off your dress.”
Startled, Dagmar glanced around. No kiss? No romance? Just orders? And even more annoying was how her ni**les hardened at the thought.
“Out here? Now?”
“Yes. Here. Now.”
“Lord Gwenvael, there’s quite a difference between enjoying the observation of others and enjoying being observed.”
“I know that. Take off the dress.” He stepped closer. “Unless, you’d prefer I hold you down and tear it off.”
“These perverted fantasies of yours—”
“Make you wet?”
She held her thumb and forefinger up, a bit apart. “A little,” she whispered.
Before Dagmar knew it, they were both laughing. Should there be laughing? Listening to her sisters-in-law, she thought there should be something desperate and uncontrollable and wild. And although she felt all those things, she also felt … happy.
Gwenvael pressed his forehead against hers and kept his voice low, “It’s just you and me here, Beast. We’re not involving anyone else except maybe the crows sleeping in the trees. Whatever we do between the two of us, with only the two of us, is our business. That, my lady, is the beauty of fantasy.”
“As always, your words are smooth as glass, Defiler.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not truthful.” He carefully removed her spectacles, taking the time to slip them into the hidden pocket of her gown. “Take off your dress. I’d hate for you to have to explain to Fannie what happened to the gown she got for you.”
Trying to focus her vision, Dagmar reached for the ties of her bodice. “You don’t think the mauling bear story would work with her?” she asked with a giggle.
* * *
Gwenvael silently watched while Dagmar untied the ribbon holding her bodice together. To keep some females calm, Gwenvael would talk. About their beauty, their wit, anything that would keep their focus on him and him alone. But he knew he had Dagmar’s attention and mere words were something the pair of them played with. They tortured others with their words, used their words to get what they wanted or needed.
The male looked up at her and then around as if he expected her to be speaking to someone else.
“Um … good evening?”
“I don’t remember seeing you at the dinner.” She held her hand out for him to grasp it, and, after a pause, he did just that, helping her to settle comfortably on the boulder.
“I didn’t attend. I’m searching for my wandering mate. Some days I don’t think she loves me at all.”
“Traveling has an allure of its own. I know that now. And perhaps the time away strengthens her love for you.”
“She may have said that one or two times. But I miss her.”
He smiled and Dagmar had to hold back a little sigh. He was astoundingly beautiful with his long dark hair and violet-colored eyes. She’d love to meet the female, dragon or human, who’d willingly wander away from him.
“Are you meeting someone out here tonight?” he asked.
“Doubtful.” The image of Gwenvael taking that royal back to his room had not left her head. “I just needed a bit of fresh air.”
“And some time to yourself. Noisy lot,” he added, motioning toward the castle.
“Very noisy. But not what I expected.”
“Everyone expects the worst of dragons. They can’t help themselves.” His head cocked to the side. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
Dagmar nodded. “As you wish.”
“It was nice”—he looked at her strangely—“talking to you.”
She didn’t know why he seemed so surprised she’d talked to him, but she didn’t care enough to ask.
“And you.”
He gave her a very courtly bow before walking off into the surrounding woods. She watched him go, impressed with the rear view as much as the front one.
“Reason preserve me,” she muttered, appalled with herself.
She turned back around, her entire body jolting when she heard, “I thought I told you to wait in your room and be naked?”
With one hand against her chest, she raised the other. She was appalled at herself even more now that she’d allowed the Gold to startle her.
“Well?” he pushed.
“Don’t snarl at me. And I didn’t see the point of being in my room waiting for you when you seemed to be off with someone else.”
“I was?”
“Do you not remember the royal draped around your neck like a noose?”
“The duchess you mean?”
“Yes. Her.”
“Why would I waste my time with her when I thought I had you waiting in your room for me?”
“To quote my father, ‘Bigger tits?’ ”
“You think so little of me.”
“No, actually. I don’t.”
He casually walked around the boulder until he faced her. “My brother Éibhear says you’re too smart for me.”
“Your brother Éibhear spends too much time in his books and staring at Izzy.”
“Annwyl said you defended me to Morfyd.”
“I was simply clarifying the situation to her.”
“I appreciate your clarification then. It means much to me.”
He grabbed her hands and held her arms away from her body. “I do like this dress on you. Fannie has a good eye.”
“She knew not to bring me something garish. I appreciate that. And thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re very welcome. Now come down here.”
Gwenvael stepped back and she carefully slid to the ground.
“Take off your dress.”
Startled, Dagmar glanced around. No kiss? No romance? Just orders? And even more annoying was how her ni**les hardened at the thought.
“Out here? Now?”
“Yes. Here. Now.”
“Lord Gwenvael, there’s quite a difference between enjoying the observation of others and enjoying being observed.”
“I know that. Take off the dress.” He stepped closer. “Unless, you’d prefer I hold you down and tear it off.”
“These perverted fantasies of yours—”
“Make you wet?”
She held her thumb and forefinger up, a bit apart. “A little,” she whispered.
Before Dagmar knew it, they were both laughing. Should there be laughing? Listening to her sisters-in-law, she thought there should be something desperate and uncontrollable and wild. And although she felt all those things, she also felt … happy.
Gwenvael pressed his forehead against hers and kept his voice low, “It’s just you and me here, Beast. We’re not involving anyone else except maybe the crows sleeping in the trees. Whatever we do between the two of us, with only the two of us, is our business. That, my lady, is the beauty of fantasy.”
“As always, your words are smooth as glass, Defiler.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not truthful.” He carefully removed her spectacles, taking the time to slip them into the hidden pocket of her gown. “Take off your dress. I’d hate for you to have to explain to Fannie what happened to the gown she got for you.”
Trying to focus her vision, Dagmar reached for the ties of her bodice. “You don’t think the mauling bear story would work with her?” she asked with a giggle.
* * *
Gwenvael silently watched while Dagmar untied the ribbon holding her bodice together. To keep some females calm, Gwenvael would talk. About their beauty, their wit, anything that would keep their focus on him and him alone. But he knew he had Dagmar’s attention and mere words were something the pair of them played with. They tortured others with their words, used their words to get what they wanted or needed.
