# Highland Burn

### Guardians of Scotland Book 1

## Victoria Zak

### Contents

Newsletter Signup Victoria Zak

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Preview of Book 2 - Highland Storm

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Highland Burn: Guardians of Scotland Book 1

Victoria Zak

Copyright 2014 by Victoria Zak

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the author and publisher.

All characters, events, and locations in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or living, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover Design by JAB Designs

Editing by Violetta Rand

  Created with Vellum

# Acknowledgments

When I set out to write my first novel, I knew it had to have a few key elements in order for me to stay focused and entertained. I wanted to write what I was passionate about...dragons. And the next element had to be romance. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to write a romance novel, that was a given. And I knew what I didn't want...a vanilla romance with no exciting toppings.

I wanted a Rocky Road romance covered in sweetness. A storyline that had an interesting flavor, leaving your taste buds wanting more. A hero and heroine who added that special secret ingredient...magic. And secondary characters who would sparkle, topping my story with sprinkles.

When the first scene hit me, of course, I was mopping my floors at the time, and stopping to take notes seemed like a great excuse. Well, a man and woman at a loch came into view. They were destined to be together but didn't know it yet. Wait? What? A loch? Then mountains and mist began to appear and a man's voice said, "Lass, what are ye waiting for? I have a story to tell ye." A Highlander? Great, I have a Scottish romance novel to write. But what about my dragons? Because my main character was a true Highlander, he wasn't keen on the whole dragon-shifting abilities and magic. But after a few bribes, and an extra sex scene, he agreed, and off I went to write a Scottish medieval paranormal romance.

Along this roller coaster of a ride they call writing, I couldn't have conquered my dream without the love and support of a few angels. I'm honored to have each and every one of you in my life.

My husband: Thank you for your love and support and the countless times you stayed up late listening to my crazy ideas. I love you more than you could ever know.

My wonderful and beautiful kids: Thank you guys for being patient with mommy. You guys are my heart!

# Prologue

Before Scotland was Scotland, two powerful societies ruled the region together. Two kingdoms, intertwined and complementary—one could not flourish without the other. One kingdom belonged to the Scots and the other to Dragonkine. The Kine were a powerful and ancient race, borne by the masters of old. They possessed both a dragon and human spirit and could take the form of each. As legend would have it, they were created to provide balance to the world and heal the wounds of 'pre-history'.

Throughout their rule, Dragonkine had proven their worth far more than any riches or coin. They were masters when it came to the lay of the land. Because of the magic their inner dragons held, they knew where to plant fields so the harvests would flourish. They knew where to build temples, and with their superior strength, they could build sturdy, lasting villages. The Scots depended on the Kine greatly.

Fierce warriors, Dragonkine defended their realm with unstoppable power and merciless force, yet they were not infallible. Without a mate, their inner dragons were unstable. Only a Dragonkine female possessed the power to calm the beast inside. Kine women were a rare race of their own. Though their bodies did not take on the configuration of a dragon, their beauty was beyond exquisite; it was magical.

Beautiful, elegant Celtic knot work patterns marked their flawless skin from the forefinger up beyond the shoulders, stopping just short of the breast. A mated female was even more alluring. Once mated, the markings on their skin would assume the color of their mate's elemental power. The women were valued as goddesses and worshiped by all Dragonkine.

If it weren't for the females' grace and their ability to calm the restless beast, a warrior's dragon would take over and unleash hell on Earth.

Together, the Scots and Dragonkine fought off many Viking attacks and tribal conflicts and maintained peace between the kingdoms. They ruled together for over a hundred peaceful years until a sacred bond was broken. Since the time before time, it was forbidden for a human to mate with Dragonkine.

Trouble began when both kings' heirs came of age and were pressured into finding the proper mate.

King Drest, the Dragonkine king, had a beautiful daughter, Vayla Blue. Because she was of marriageable age, her beauty had attracted many strong and wealthy Kine suitors. Not only was the princess appealing, Vayla had the grace of a queen and a loving heart. She was adored by all of her people, but most of all, she was the sparkle in her father's eye.

King Drest loved his daughter more than life itself. She was his only heir to the throne and, to carry on his lineage, he protected Vayla—mayhap a little too much.

Five elite warriors followed her wherever she went. And when she wasn't being followed, her mother relentlessly dictated to her how a proper princess should act, for Kine women were the backbone of their society.

One summer morning, King Drest called a royal meeting, and by midday, his great hall was filled with top-ranked warriors from both realms, including King MacAlpin, the king of the human realm. They had gathered to discuss urgent business regarding a neighboring tribe crossing borders and pillaging villages.

"Mac, are we to wait for yer son to show up or do we start without him?" King Drest was becoming impatient with the young lad. MacAlpin should teach his son some manners when it came to being on time.

MacAlpin ran his hand repeatedly down his plaited beard as he stood by the window sternly eyeing his son hastily making his way through the bailey, winking as he passed by a group of Dragonkine females. "He'll be here," he grumbled.

Constantine, King MacAlpin's son and heir to the throne, charmed the ladies with his vivid green eyes, chiseled jaw, and long, sandy-blond hair with war braids framing his youthful face. As beautiful as he was, the gods had also blessed him with brawn and brains, yet his maturity was questionable.

MacAlpin glared at Constantine as he entered the great hall. He loved his son, but the boy needed discipline. Not that he wasn't honorable or respectful, but trouble seemed to find him. MacAlpin blamed his wife for allowing Constantine to run amuck, for he could do no wrong in her eyes.

Once everyone was seated, King Drest called the first order of business. Constantine soon became bored and looked out a window daydreaming, when a beautiful woman came into view. Her long, tawny hair streamed down her back in flowing waves, and her white gown outlined in gold hugged her body, revealing her slender figure and full breasts. He froze, enchanted when her bright blue eyes caught his gaze. Constantine was busy admiring the way she moved, the curves of her body, and most compellingly, the expression on her face—which called to him. He did not notice a small green dragon perched on her shoulder. She was feeding him some kind of fruit.

Constantine thought he would never take another breath when she flashed him an irresistible smile. His heart paused, then began to thunder, and his body responded to her beauty and allure. He knew that this woman, nay, this magnificent woman, had to be his wife. He would not—could not—settle for less. It sounded like madness, but somehow, she had reached inside and stolen the heart he had always thought invulnerable.

The meeting took forever, at least for Constantine. He couldn't wait to find his woman, and it didn't help that he was as hard as a rock. He desired her as he had never desired another, and his yearning had him shifting in his seat. He even tried thinking about their hag of a cook back home, naked, but he was sure nothing but the seductive lady who had passed in and out of his sight was going to satisfy him.

Once the meeting was over, it didn't take him long to find her. From the expression of joy and desire on her face, he thought she had been looking for him, too. "What is your name?" he asked.

She placed her finger on his lips. "Shh," she whispered, "it does not matter. We have found each other." She waited, blue eyes filled with hope.

Constantine nodded. "Yes," he said. He had never felt this strange sense of serenity and excitement. Her nearness filled him with expectation. He took her hands and felt her trembling. "It's all right."

Vayla moved so close that he could feel her breath against his skin, "It's meant to be. I can't explain. I just know," she said. They stood that way for a long moment, then joined hands and headed for the shelter of some rowan trees.

It was as if they were under a powerful, erotic spell as they removed each other's clothing, exploring each other with their hands. Constantine kissed her like no other, soft and slow, building up to an unquenchable rapture. Vayla surrendered to her own needs as he backed her up against the tree and claimed her ever so sweetly.

With their lust finally sated, Constantine laid her down upon lush green grass and made love to her again, but this time he took his time, discovering her luscious body. He couldn't get enough of her soft skin, curves, and her long, lean legs.

After they had their fill, Constantine fell asleep with his head on Vayla's lap. As she watched him sleep, she made a small cross out of twigs from the rowan tree and bound the sticks together with strands of her golden hair. This was forbidden. Dragonkine women were never to marry or bed a human. They both knew that, yet their hearts had no boundaries.

Before Constantine left, she placed the cross in his hands. "May this protect ye until we meet again." It was as though Vayla Blue knew what the outcome of this beautiful rebellion was going to be.

He kissed her and headed back to his home. It would be the last time he saw her.

# 1

_The Loch_

_Late summer of 1314_

_Medieval Scotland_

* * *

"Fergus, the water is verra refreshing. Why don't ye join me?"

The white stallion inhaled deeply then snorted as he ate from a patch of lush grass.

"Well, ye dinnae have to be rude about it."

Long white hair with streaks of gray fell over his muscled neck as the fine steed shook his head and stomped his hoof. He pulled on a blade of grass, indicating that he was perfectly content grazing near the loch's edge.

A giggle escaped her mouth as she splashed at her horse.

Abigale Bruce had ridden hard and fast through the glen most of the morn. Since her father's recent victory over the English at the battle of Bannockburn, Abigale had been freed from the nunnery. Her excitement at finally being able to experience life made it even more appealing to charge through the forest. Now she rewarded Fergus with a patch of grass while she cooled off in the loch. Oh, how she cherished these moments, they were few and far between.

Eight long years at Dunfermline Abbey wasn't the ideal place to grow up, but she had no choice. Her father, Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, had placed her there in order to keep her safe from his enemy, the English. Throughout her time at the Abbey, Edward, the King of England, had gotten close to capturing her a few times, but the small secretive community of nuns had held true to their oath and kept her hidden well.

Unhappy about the newly crowned King of Scotland, the English had killed Abigale's three uncles and captured her stepmother, half-sister, and her two aunts and held them prisoner behind iron bars of a bird cage hanging over The Tower of London. Though Abigale lived like a prisoner at the abbey, she knew it was nothing compared to the humiliation her family had endured.

Abigale's trouble had started as soon as she walked through the gates of the abbey. Robert Bruce had given the nuns a generous donation to repair part of the church that had been attacked by King Edward. In return, he requested that Abbot Benard take his daughter in and protect her. The abbot could not refuse. Therefore, Abigale, at the wee age of ten, had been placed in the cruel hands of Abbess Margaret.

Abbess Margaret oversaw twelve nuns, she declared she had not the time to look after the wee brat, so she left Sister Kate in charge of Abigale. Abbess Margaret was a beautiful, middle-aged woman with short, raven hair, and possessed the ability to inflict the cruelest of punishments. She watched and waited for Abigale to slip up so she could take pleasure in punishing her. Abigale knew why the woman hated her; she was jealous and thought it unfair that she had special treatment just because she was the king's daughter.

Abigale was afforded few exceptions to the rules. Because of her lack of interest in taking vows as a nun, she didn't have to cut her hair like the sisters. Furthermore, she could marry and own property. Although there was one rule that had to be followed; she must be obedient. And Abbess Margaret took great pride in punishing the girl. Sending Abigale to clean the chamber pots daily seemed to make the corners of her thin lips twitch. "Ye're no princess, but a bastard child who her own father has abandoned."

After a few missed visits from her father and daily tongue lashings from the Abbess, Abigale started to believe her vile words, yet her spirit held firm.

Sister Kate had kept a watchful eye on Abigale, keeping her workload full so she would stay out of trouble, but trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went. Abbey life wasn't the life for her. She grew to hate the prayer bells, for they rang eight times a day, starting at the wee hours of night. The blasted bell would ring either when she was sound asleep or assisting a monk in surgery. More times than not, she was late to prayer, and being tardy was frowned upon. The consequences were harsh. In fact, they were harsher than falling asleep during worship.

Abigale knew this all too well; she had fallen asleep in a choir stall one night. Sister Kate had been the circator that night, pacing up and down the aisle as she shined her cresset lamp into the stalls checking if anyone had fallen asleep. A sharp poke with a stick to her ribcage had woken Abigale up quickly. Of course, she got a rap on the legs for that one. Thank God it was Sister Kate, for she showed mercy.

Now that she was home, her father was adamant about keeping his family safe. He vowed to never allow another Bruce woman to be captured by the filthy Sassenach. Just as Abigale thought she'd regained her freedom, it was once again ripped away from her by an arranged marriage to her father's first in command. Who better to protect her than the Bogeyman himself?

Trepidation sent a shiver through her body as she thought about her future husband. _"The Black Douglas."_ A man with a reputation that would make the Devil himself shudder with fear. A ruthless warrior who had fought in many battles with her father. The English feared him terribly, making up nursery rhymes warning their wee bairns to _"hush before the Black Douglas will get ye"_. She'd never met the man before, but the deal was done. Abigale was to abide by her father's orders.

She turned to Fergus who was chewing on a blade of grass. "At least ye don't have to marry the Bogeyman." She shuddered, because saying it out loud made it all too real.

For a moment, she wondered just what the Black Douglas would look like. Could her father be so cruel as to wed her to an evil, battle-worn, old man? Nay, who could possibly be scared of an old man? Then again, a warrior's reputation lived on even after death. Or mayhap he really was a monster of some sort, a mythical creature of the night that lurked under the bed waiting to nip at people's heels. Abigale was letting her imagination get the best of her. Shaking those thoughts, she submerged herself in the cool water, washing away every bit of worry. Today was her day and she was going to enjoy the peace that the loch gave her.

She floated to the surface, coming up for air. Her linen shift clung to her body and her dark hair fanned out and floated with the ripples of the water. She closed her eyes, she opened her arms wide, allowing her fears to fall from her body and sink to the bottom of the loch.

The sound of twigs snapping alerted Abigale that she wasn't alone. Quickly, she sank in the water to hide from what was lurking in the woods. Panic pricked up her spine as she searched the tree line for movement. Nothing... It must be a small animal running through the thicket. Another snap. This time, it she knew it was too loud to be an animal.

Abigale turned and faced Fergus.

Ears pointing in the direction of the noise, Fergus let out a gut-deep neigh.

"Ye heard that, too?" she whispered, trying not to draw attention to herself. Abigale slowly moved toward the water's edge. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by a wild animal or worst yet...a rogue Highlander.

Wet and cold, Abigale stepped out of the water and headed straight for the huge boulder covered in green moss where her dress and dirk lay. If instincts had taught her anything, it was never to let your guard down and never leave home without a weapon.

A third snap sounded like it came from behind her. Taking a steady breath, she grabbed her dirk and spun around to meet her attacker. She lunged the blade forward, pointing it at his throat, the tip inches away from piercing his skin.

"Och, lass, I will no' hurt ye." A massive man with vibrant, amber-colored eyes stood before her with his hands up in surrender.

Abigale arched a dark brow. "How do I know I can trust ye?"

"I have no weapons on me... Search me if ye dinnae believe me." With a sly grin, he turned around, inviting her to inspect every inch of his muscular body.

The stranger was naked from the waist up, making it easy to see he was telling the truth. It was clearly unnecessary, making him turn around was purely for her viewing pleasure. She could not will her eyes away if she tried.

As he turned around, it amazed her just how brawny this stranger was. Wet from a recent swim in the loch, his long black hair stuck to his neck and broad shoulders. His lower back tapered into a firm backside covered in black and gray plaid.

Growing up in the abbey, she'd never seen a man quite like him which made her feel things she'd never felt before. Why did she have the sudden urge to squeeze his buttocks? _God could not have forged a more perfect man._

She'd bet a lass would lose all common sense wrapped in those hulking arms.

Being ten-and-eight, innocent, and sheltered behind the walls of the nunnery, she hadn't had much of a chance to explore the ways of men. In fact, if she wasn't praying, she was in the infirmary tending to the ill. She remembered Sister Kate's nagging voice, "Ye only have room for one man in yer heart, and HE would never steer ye wrong." Only if Sister Kate could see this man standing before her now, even she would blush.

"Ye should no' be sneaking up on me like that." Abigale lowered the dirk but kept her grip tight.

The stranger crossed his arms over his bare chest. "I was taking a rest while out riding when I saw ye over here. Ye know, a bonny lass like yerself should no' be without an escort."

"I can take care of myself just fine."

"Aye, I can see that." He rubbed his throat.

She stood shivering from the cold or mayhap from the intensity of his gaze. She needed to retrieve her clothes before she caught her death. Then she remembered that she was wearing a shift. Surely, he could see through it! Quickly with her free hand, she tried to cover her breasts and still have some dignity. "Would ye kindly turn around so I can dress?" She motioned with the dirk.

He did. "That's a fine horse ye have," he said over his shoulder.

Abigale finished dressing and began to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. "That's Fergus, he's a gift from my da. A true warhorse."

Of the few times her father had come to visit her at the abbey, she remembered the day when he had brought Fergus to her as a gift. A gift perhaps, but more like a peace offering for being gone for over a year. Abigale forgave him, and the white charger quickly became more than a horse, he was a friend.

"Ye may turn around now." As Abigale glanced up, her heart skipped a beat as amber eyes pierced her, sending a rush of heat through her body. She licked her lips. How could this man, who she had never met before, make her hunger for something she had not yet experienced? Feeling uneasy, she broke their stare and quickly searched for her shoes.

"Are ye a Highlander?" What kind of a question was that? Of course, he was a Highlander. _Ye fool, Abigale Bruce. He must think ye a real dunderhead._

"Why do ye ask?"

"That is a plaid ye wear?" Abigale leaned against a boulder and bent down to slip on her shoes.

"Aye."

"Then ye must be a Highlander."

The ways of Highlanders were much different from the English-influenced ways of lowland men like her father. Still, both had fought for Scotland until the crown and riches were in their grasp. Some would say that greed was the root of all evil. Abigale thought differently. The crown was the root of all evil. Men fought for it, killed for it, and sold their souls for a taste of the power it held. She knew that all too well, because it was her father's own longing for that prize which had left her abandoned at the abbey.

The unsettled nature of Scotland had left Abigale hardened. She'd seen firsthand the aftermath of battles fought—had mended wounds, prayed over bodies, and even buried the dead. The nunnery where she grew up would set up tents to aid those wounded in combat. Abigale would assist in surgery and her passion grew for healing the sick and curing wounds. She believed life was to be valued, not destroyed.

In a way, she blamed Lady Scotland for her personal misfortunes. Her father's growing need to fight had forced to conceal her true identity and grow up without a family. Her whole family had been affected by the battles fought for Scotland and the voraciousness to claim the crown. Though it was true she had long forgiven the Lady, she could not forget.

The Highlander seemed far away in thought, because he took a while to answer. "Some would say I'm a Highlander." "May I?" The beautiful stranger reached for a piece of hair that was stuck to her face and tucked it behind her ear. He brushed a calloused finger down her cheek to her slender neck, leaving a fiery path behind.

He held her stare and captivated her to the point that she could not form a coherent thought. This Highlander was so close to her she could feel his breath on her skin and smell his masculine scent.

The mysterious man lowered his head, cupped his hand behind her neck, and pulled her close to claim her lips. Abigale drew in a deep breath in anticipation when suddenly a nudge from behind broke her trance. She turned to find Fergus.

"Fergus!" she scolded. "What's gotten into ye?"

Another nudge by a wet gray muzzle almost sent Abigale to the ground until strong arms caught her around the waist. "I got ye, lass," he whispered in her ear.

For some odd reason, the deep tone of his voice soothed her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned back against the warmth of his body. Wait...what was she doing? _Abigale Bruce, ye are to be married._

Quickly, she slipped away and began to gather up Fergus's reigns. "I should be getting back." It was clear to Abigale that Fergus did not approve of the stranger.

Knowing she should be heading back soon, she mounted Fergus. She dared one last look at the Highlander. Her gaze roamed his massive body, everything about him committed to memory: his striking amber eyes, strong jaw line, and the way his eyes strayed over her body. She did not want to forget him.

A lass in her situation could only dream of running away with a beautiful man to avoid being married to a monster.

She was drawn to his charm and pure masculinity which made him extremely dangerous. If only she could control her own life and be free to choose who to love. _Shouldnae one marry for love?_

The Highlander approached her, drawing her out of her thoughts. He touched her leg which sent a tingling sensation up her thigh. "Lass, what is yer name? I'd like to see ye again."

Abigale panicked. Not understanding the new feelings the Highlander brought out in her, she put her fantasy aside. With a squeeze of her legs, she sent Fergus into a gallop toward her father's castle and far away from the Highlander.

# 2

_The Bogeyman_

_Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,_

_Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye,_

_The Black Douglas shall not get ye._

* * *

A thunderous knock echoed through James's bedchamber and rattled his drunken slumber. He growled his response while rolling over on his back. A soft, warm, naked body nuzzled next to him, sighing a breathy moan.

As his way of dealing with an unwanted, arranged marriage, he had spent the night drinking heavily. To his dismay, no amount of mead was going to change his situation. The thought of not being in control of his fate burned him. The more he burned the more he drank, until he was numb, which meant a significant amount, because he was Dragonkine.

When a well-endowed brunette with a low-cut dress had whispered an invitation for a night filled with pleasure, he couldn't resist. It wasn't unusual for women to offer themselves to him. He was handsome, dominating, and a Highlander. Men feared him and woman sought to have him between their legs. Being the clan chief did have its advantages.

Another loud rap ricocheted through his head. "Go away!" he demanded. "Leave me be."

James drifted back to sleep, when all of a sudden, the door flew open with such force it shattered the hinges. Terrified, the brunette sat up and threw her hands over her breasts as a tall man came charging into the room.

"Conall?" With his vision blurred and head pounding, James could barely recognize his best friend and second-in-command.

Conall scooped up the woman's dress and threw it at her. "Get out!"

The frightened lass jumped out of bed, and holding her dress, ran out of the room.

"James, get yer arse up," Conall demanded and threw a white tunic at him.

James moaned and tried to sit up, but his stomach lurched and his head spun.

"Do ye realize what today is?"

"Aye," James rumbled.

"I'm going now to fetch yer lass. Ye best get moving."

_Lass... Lass..._ James lay there for a moment trying to shake the cobwebs free. "Shite." He scrubbed a hand down his face. Today he was to marry the princess of Scotland.

Before James finished putting on his tunic, a pair of trews smacked him in the face. Conall showed him no mercy. With his hands on his hips, he stood looking over James sternly. "Make sure ye wash up. Ye stink like a dung heap." Conall turned and left the chamber.

James did a quick sniff under his armpits. "Aye."

After a chambermaid prepared his bath, James washed the filth off himself. As he sat on the edge of the bed pulling on his boots, preparing himself to marry a lass from a nunnery who just happened to be the king's daughter, his mood turned dark when he thought of the situation he was in. What was King Robert thinking when he arranged for his daughter to marry him? Robert knew he was Dragonkine. Slaughtering the enemy on the battlefield was where he belonged, not tied to a lass.

He was a beast... a dragon. Even though born human, he still had gone through one hell of a transformation eighteen years ago at the wee age of ten. Now, he was twenty-and-eight, with a fully transformed beast inside.

When his dragon seized control he was uncontainable, a ruthless being wreaking mayhem upon his enemies and leaving a trail of destruction behind. Stealthy raids aided him in keeping his dragon a secret. Only attack at night and leave no prisoners behind—kill them all.

There was nothing like it in the world when he shifted. The freedom he felt when he took to the skies was indescribable. Nose to the wind, his senses were strong, slicing through the clouds. His powerful wings dominated, the call of the wild, and his blood pulsed with the earth. He was dragon.

Mentally, James shook himself and stood. Grumbling a few blasphemies, he grabbed his cloak and flung it over his broad shoulders as he made his way to the door. He knew exactly who he was, which made his situation even more dreadful. He had to come up with a plan to get rid of the princess but still keep his honor. Surely if he made life unbearable for her, she would go running back to her da, begging for an annulment. The corners of his mouth began to turn up, along with his mood, as he shut the door and strode off to the kirk.

Abigale gazed at her reflection in the mirror as the chambermaid, Griselda, pulled a comb through her tangles. She hissed in pain when the comb stumbled upon another knot. "Stop that!" She swatted at the maid.

"Ye ought to be still, lass, and stop complaining." Griselda huffed and continued her assault. Apparently, Griselda did not care for her much, nor for her wishes. Undoubtedly, she was a miserable person.

"Ye ought to try to be kinder. Ye are yanking my hair out." Abigale picked up a lock of hair from the floor. "Look," she demanded.

This just added to her foul mood. Her body ached after enduring yesterday's brutal ride to Castle Douglas. Accompanied by four of her father's trusted knights, she stopped in between downpours of cold rain, and rode their horses through the mucky terrain, making the ride twice as long as it should have been.

Not to mention, the cold welcome she received as they arrived late last night. She found it odd that her husband-to-be was not present to welcome her to her new home. However, it pleased her, for she wasn't yet ready to meet him.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that the last thing she had eaten was the stale bread and hard cheese that waited for her after her bath last night. After the long ride, she had been quite grateful to sink her stiff and dirty body into the warm water.

Sleep had evaded her most of the night. Even after a hard day's ride, Abigale couldn't escape her fear of meeting the Black Douglas. So many questions invaded her mind. _What does the Bogeyman look like and is he real?_ How would he treat her? Would his breath smell like ale the first time they kissed? But most of all, how would he take her when they consummated their marriage? Would he be rough? She couldn't imagine a man with such a reputation displaying mercy toward an innocent.

Being a laird's wife and raising wee bairns, nay, more like spawns from Satan, was her destiny now. She shuddered at the sheer thought of it. How could her father do this to her? Hadn't she suffered enough at the hands of Abbess Margaret? All she wanted in life was to be happy and have a loving family. Was that too much to ask for?

A plan entered her mind. Mayhap she could run away...find shelter in a small village where no one knew her. Start a life of her own instead of one that had been arranged.

Just as quickly as hope began to bloom, it withered away. She couldn't live her life on the run. Her father would find her eventually; furthermore, no one escaped the Bogeyman.

A hairpin pricked her scalp and brought her attention back to Griselda. Abigale shrugged out of the way from the rough-handed wench when she saw another pin appear in hand.

"That will be enough for now." Abigale shooed her away.

She rose on shaky legs and took a step back, so she could take a look at her dress. An off-the-shoulder, white gown hugged her body to perfection. Gold, Celtic knots lined the top of her bodice and the bottom of her long sleeves. Her auburn hair was plaited and coiled into a tight bun behind her head. _Griselda really did do a beautiful job,_ she thought.

She wished her mother was still alive. Tears filled her eyes as she thought about the woman she had loved so much. A vision flashed of an auburn-haired woman standing in front of her, beaming with pride and holding Abigale in her loving arms. The kind and caring woman would know what to do in times like these.

A loud rap on the door made Abigale flinch and realize her situation was all too real. Griselda opened the door and informed her that her escort was there to take her to the kirk.

Abigale closed her eyes, trying to fight back the urge to run. To run back to the loch and into the arms of her beautiful Highlander. She silently cursed her father a million times for arranging this nightmare.

"I'll be right there." When she went over to the bed, her hands shook as she picked up a sheer veil with scalloped, lace edges. She draped the material over her head, careful not to disturb Griselda's creation, and with one last look in the mirror, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Abigale held on to the very last bit of courage she had left. She had survived Abbess Margaret's cruelty; she could surely endure the Black Douglas.

A very tall, well-built man entered the chamber and offered his arm. "My lady."

Abigale accepted, for she had no choice. She held on tight to her escort's arm, and they made their way to the kirk.

As Abigale approached the tiny building, she noticed that it looked as if it had been burned. Charred stone marred the outside walls. The remainder of black soot still clouded the stained-glass windows and there was a hint of burnt earth in the air.

Fear quickly turned into terror as Abigale reached the wooden, double doors of the chapel. Heart racing, hands trembling, she reached for the door then paused. Panic and fear had consumed her as the air became thick, making it hard for her to breathe, and her legs threatened to buckle. She held on to the escort's arm to steady herself. She clenched her hand to her chest and began to breathe heavily.

The escort's brows creased. "Are ye ill?"

A muttered nay escaped her lips.

"My lady, look at me." The escort crouched down until he was eye level with Abigale. "Slow...short...breaths..."

Swirling gray-blue eyes that reminded her of a raging storm held her stare. Her breathing returned to a normal rhythm and she felt weightless, as if in a hypnotic trance.

"Verra good, lass," he reassured her. The escort took pity on her and pushed the door open.

An eerie creaking sound echoed off the stone walls as the door opened. A rush of cold, stale air hit her body, causing her to shiver and rub her arms warm. The only light that shone through the kirk was a singular sunbeam through a small arched window. Abigale watched as dust specks danced in its rays while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. _Nay, this is not a place of worship,_ Abigale thought. _'Tis too cold and dark_. But the cloaked figure sitting on the steps next to the pulpit had to be the Black Douglas.

With his hands on the small of her back, the escort nudged her forward. Willing her feet to move and sending a pleading prayer up to the heavens, Abigale stopped in front of the cloaked figure and lowered her head to greet the Black Douglas. "My Laird." _Courage..._ she thought to herself... _courage_.

The man stood, his wool cloak fell to the ground, revealing his face. Abigale's eyes widened in disbelief as if she'd seen a ghost. Her mysterious Highlander from the loch stared back at her. A whispered "nay" slipped past her lips. Astonished, she couldn't accept the fact that this man was the same one she had met two days ago.

The Black Douglas dominated the room with his massive frame as he towered over her. His eyes swirled amber like freshly poured whiskey as he intently gazed down at her. His animalistic presence chilled her to the core. A half-moon-shaped scar under his right eye made his blood-chilling stare more sinister. How could she have missed that scar?

"So, ye be the princess of Scotland, aye?"

Abigale froze at the sheer roughness of his tone.

He bent down and whispered in her ear. "What's wrong, lass? Afraid of the Bogeyman?"

On the inside, Abigale shook with fear, but on the outside, she held firm. She caught her breath and nervously let it go before she answered him.

"Nay." Slowly she lifted her veil, tilted her head back, and met his icy stare. "Ye can no' be the man from the loch."

It didn't go unnoticed when she saw his brows slightly arch as if he was surprised as well. She must have had some kind of effect on the Bogeyman, because he broke their stare swiftly and began to circle her like an animal hunts its prey.

"And what makes ye think that?"

She swallowed hard. "The man at the loch—was chivalrous.

Being this close, she could feel the warmth of his breath sweeping over her skin like a hot summer's night. Her heart pounded so hard that she could feel it drumming against her chest. But what disturbed her the most was the desire heating up deep within her, waking the butterflies in her stomach. Aye, this was indeed the same man.

Stopping in front of her, he lifted her chin. The coarseness of his skin reminded her of scales. He arched a black brow and pinned her hard with his amber eyes. "I'm most definitely the same man, and I've no' claimed to be chivalrous, lass."

# 3

_Better to sit all night than go to bed with a dragon. ~ Zen Proverb_

* * *

James glanced down at their joined hands. A shaking, tiny hand sat perfectly in his palm as he finished muttering his vows and slipped a ring on the fourth finger on Abigale's left hand. "I receive ye as mine," he repeated and turned back to the priest who stood in front of the alter. Frankly, this whole process was taking way too long for James's liking. He clasped his hands in front of him and shifted his weight onto his heels. Damn, the priest had a lot to say. A simple "Aye" from them both would suffice; no need for all these drawn out details.

A blinding glare from Abigale's left hand caught his attention. He glanced at her hands, squinting from the sun reflecting off of her wedding band. He cursed silently. She was his wife.

The priest motioned for them to kneel and bow their heads for the blessing. As the end of the ceremony was closing in on James, he realized what came next, consummating the marriage. Sweat formed on his forehead. He needed to think of something quick, because in no manner was he going to bed Abigale tonight. Without a doubt, he felt her dread in every fiber woven within him. Terror had shone through her eyes the moment she entered the kirk. Although his reputation would say differently, James was not the monster everyone made him out to be. He would not bed an innocent. Not like this.

There was no other way around it; he had to fake the consummation and he had better make it look convincing, for he was going to have to lie to a priest. Since it was customary for the holy one to view the consummation, James had to have a foolproof plan, but the real problem was convincing Abigale to play along. Because she grew up in a nunnery, it might not be easy to persuade her to lie to a priest.

Mayhap he should bed her and be done with it. After all, Abigale's beauty enticed him...beckoned him. Being his wife, she had to know what was expected of her. James pondered this thought a while until his bloody dragon began to pulse through his body, reminding him of why he could not bed Abigale. Demons he wished not to speak of ran soul-deep, too deep to be forgiven. His new wife deserved better.

"Ye may rise as I announce ye man and wife." The priest opened his arms, embracing the marriage.

James hopped to his feet like his arse was on fire. As soon as Abigale stood, he crouched down in front of her and flung her over his massive shoulder. The plan was in motion.

Tiny hands pounded at his back in protest. "Put me down, James Douglas!" Abigale demanded.

Not listening to a word she was saying, James quit the kirk and headed toward Castle Douglas. As he maneuvered his way through the bailey, Abigale kicked at him, upsetting the balance with which he held her. He slapped her backside. "Enough or I'll drop ye!"

"Ouch!" Abigale squirmed.

James dodged and weaved through the bailey; time was of the essence. He had to reach the bedchamber before the priest arrived. If he didn't make it on time, then there was no way around it, he would have to bed Abigale in front of the holy one, and that could not happen.

Enormous wooden doors opened as James reached Castle Douglas. His brother, Archibald, stood there with a confused expression on his face.

"Don't ask." James glanced at his younger brother sternly.

Archibald shook his head and closed the doors behind him.

Walking right past his brother, James continued through the great hall and to the stairs leading to the second floor. With haste, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the top. He ran down the corridor and slammed into a chambermaid. White linen sheets flew from her hands and littered the floor. "Sorry lass," he said in passing.

With a look of surprise on her face, the maid clenched a sheet to her chest, bowed her head.

"That's-a-lass." The maid called out and shook her head as if she wished it was her being hauled off to a room by a man such as the laird.

Finally, they reached the bedchamber. James shouldered the door open and quickly placed Abigale on her feet, shutting the door behind him.

Abigale stumbled back a step as she gained her balance. Her neatly shaped bun now hung in a ball of tangles. "James Douglas, I demand to know what's going on."

Raking her fingers through her hair, she tried to tame her mass of locks. One moment, she was kneeling in front of the priest, and the next, she was swept off her feet and carried through the village like a sack of oats. What was going on?

"James?" Abigale harrumphed when he ignored her question.

Without replying, James peeked out the small window of the chamber's door.

"Who are ye looking for?" Realization hit her like a stone to the head... _the priest._

Oh, dear God, she had to bed her husband. Even though she knew this day would come, it didn't mean she had to like it. Abigale's heart began to race and her palms began to sweat as she started to panic. The man who stood before her was intimidating and intense, but not as vile as she had imagined. Though she couldn't help but feel that he wasn't too fond of her.

What if it hurt? What if she couldn't please him? Worse yet, what if she repulsed him? Her stomach went queasy. Never having been with a man before, Abigale was scared, and completely confused by this man's actions.

Quickly, James strode over to her and without saying a word, he grabbed her arm and spun her so her back was facing him. Two large hands grabbed the back of her dress at the neckline and started to rip the material in two. Blessed Mary, he was going to be rough with her. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to fight back the tears.

A loud rip echoed throughout the bedchamber. Abigale tried to escape James's grip, but it was of no use; he was too powerful for her to fight. "Stop, please, my laird," she pleaded. "Please...not like this."

Abigale was swiftly turned around so she had to face him. Her dress barely hung from her shoulders and tears filled her eyes.

"I dinnae know how much time we have before the priest arrives." He ripped Abigale's dress off of her and flung it on the floor. She stood naked from the waist up.

Her eyes wide, her body trembling, Abigale's arms immediately flew across her chest, trying hard to cover herself.

James tugged his tunic off, then removed his boots. "Unless ye want to bed me lass, we have to make it look like we've consummated our marriage."

"I dinnae understand." Abigale stood confused. "Are ye telling me we are going to lie and say we've consummated the marriage? Lie to a priest?" This was a mortal sin. She would be stripped of grace, condemned to damnation unless she confessed.

"Aye."

Abigale shook her head in disbelief. "'Tis a sin. I can no' do it." Was he really asking her to choose between her virginity and faith?

James advanced on Abigale, making her take a step back. "Maybe in yer world 'tis a sin but not in mine. I know ye dinnae want to bed me, but the fact is, Abigale, sometimes ye must stretch the truth."

_Abigale Bruce, what do ye value most, yer virginity or faith?_ Mayhap a little lie now and confess later was her best option.

With remorse, she tugged the St. Andrew's cross from around her neck and dropped it. She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness as she listened to the ping of the cross hitting the floor.

A loud rap on the chamber door made her jump. They stared at the door...the priest.

Quickly, James bent down in front of her and shoved his hands up her skirts. Gentle hands slid up her thighs, sending a sensual sensation through her body and settling between her legs. She shouldn't want his touch, but oddly she did.

He unsheathed the dirk strapped to her thigh and dropped her skirt. "Good lass." He smirked.

Before he let her go, he bent down and whispered in her ear, "Start moaning."

Confusion swept her face. "What?"

Both of them looked at each other, bringing Abigale out of her lustful daze. James nodded, motioning for her to start moaning.

"Oh, my Laird," Abigale moaned uncomfortably but convincingly enough.

"Good lass," he whispered with a smile.

All the while, Abigale moaned a series of _my lairds_ as she watched James. With the dirk in one hand, he had slit the other until blood dripped to the floor. Racing to the bed, he pulled the blankets and furs back until he reached the linen sheet. Immediately, he ripped the sheet from the bed and stained it with his blood. _Perfect_ , Abigale thought. He really had thought of everything, for the bloody material looked as if they had consummated the marriage. The priest would never know the difference.

As James went forward with his plan, he gestured for her to climb into the bed. Happy to oblige, the moaning ceased and Abigale slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Somehow, being shrouded under the soft furs made her feel protected, as if she was invisible. Oh, how she wished she could sink farther into the blankets.

Peeking over the edge of the fur, her eyes never left James. With the bloodstained sheet in hand, he walked over to answer the door. Before he opened it, he untied his trews and messed-up his hair. This man had thought of everything. He threw the stained sheet and her ripped wedding dress at the priest, then slammed the door.

The priest left as quickly as he came.

James had been right, she did not want to bed him, not after what she had been through the last couple of days. She was confused; one moment she had freedom, then the next it was taken away. She had met a beautiful man at the loch only to find out he was the Bogeyman she had to marry. When James brought her up to the bedchamber, she'd thought for sure he would claim her, take her roughly, and rob her of everything she held sacred. Men like him took what they wanted and didn't care who they hurt _,_ yet, he had showed mercy. Her nerves threatened to shatter. _Dear Lord, please just make him leave._

James leaned against the door and sighed in relief. The priest was gone, but he still felt like an arse for making Abigale choose between her virginity and her faith. Even though it was her choice, he couldn't shake the guilt. He almost wished he had made the choice for her, to bed the lass and be done with it. After seeing her flawless skin, her full breasts, and touching her soft thighs, it wouldn't have taken much to change his mind. Like the greedy beast he was, he would have taken everything she offered, if she was offering. This was why the lass had to go. He could not be trusted around her and could feel his self-control slipping away.

As he picked up his tunic from the floor and tugged it on, he paused for a moment and glanced over at the auburn-haired beauty. She looked so innocent with her deep blue eyes pinning him from over the top of a black fur. God's wounds! She was shaking. He'd frightened her.

As he watched the lass cowering, his dragon stirred, reminding him he needed to get out of there and fast, for temptation beckoned. Abigale had encountered enough of the Bogeyman for one night.

With his boots in hand, he turned and quit the bedchamber, leaving Abigale to rest.

# 4

_The dragon teaches you if you want to climb high, you have to do it against the wind. ~ Chinese Proverb_

* * *

The next morning, James busied himself preparing their horses for the long ride back home to Black Stone on the Hill. All morning he'd tried to erase the vision of Abigale lifting her veil and revealing the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. Why did she have to be the beautiful lass from the loch? Why did she have to be Abigale Bruce? It would be much easier to stay away from her if the lass had been an ugly hag, but she was far from a hag. Beauty like an angel, grace like a queen, and charm that could drive a man daft. How was he supposed to stay away when the lass tempted his willpower in such a way that even he did not understand it?

_I receive ye as mine._ The words he'd uttered last eve haunted him.

"God's wounds."

He did not want to take a wife. Being a Guardian of Scotland, Dragonkine, there was only room for one woman in his life and it was Lady Scotland. Gut-wrenching reality hit—how was he going to tell Abigale about his other half? "Och, lass, I forgot to tell ye, I'm a dragon and I spit fire." That should go over well. Nay, he would make sure Abigale never knew. Besides she wouldn't be staying long.

Agreeing to marry the king's daughter brought more bother than he'd bargained for, but then again, the king of Scotland, Robert Bruce, had a sly way of sweetening the deal. Land. Even though James's home was in Angus, he did not own the land, so it was a perfect opportunity to set the stakes high. A bountiful dowry neither man or dragon could turn down.

After James was named a knight bannerette on the battlefield, the king had laid it all out.

_"James, we have business to discuss." Robert Bruce slapped James on the shoulder and continued to walk. The king waited for no one._

_James peered up from the trencher piled high with vegetables and meats. No amount of hunger could stop his curiosity. Quickly, he wiped his mouth, left the table, and caught up with King Robert._

_They made their way up to the king's solar. The king paced slowly, deep in thought in front of the hearth, with his hands behind his back. "Have ye gathered enough men in support of yer banner?" King Robert asked._

_"Aye, yer Grace, enough to lead yer next quest."_

_"Verra good. Ye see, James, my next quest is verra special to me. I've gone to great lengths to ensure no one knows about it."_

_James stood tall, his stance confident. Intrigued by what King Robert was saying, he listened intently._

_"I am well prepared to pay ye generously for yer service, if ye shall agree to my terms."_

_"Service? Yer Grace, I already serve ye and ye have been more than generous to me."_

_"And ye have served me well." King Robert walked to his wooden desk, sat down, and steepled his fingers. "I've always considered ye like a son. Yer father, God rest his soul, and I go way back. He would be proud of ye."_

_That couldn't be farther from the truth. How could a father approve of the vindictive ways his son conducted warfare or the way he dealt out brutality to those who stood in his way? Nay, his father would be far from proud, James thought._

_"What is this quest ye seek?" James asked_

_Robert tapped his steepled fingers on his bearded chin. "I have someone verra precious to me, my daughter, Abigale. I've arranged for her to be married."_

_James knew the king would only trust him and his men at arms to escort the princess of Scotland. This made perfectly good sense, but knowing the king as well as he did, he still waited cautiously for his request._

_"I've arranged for ye to leave for Castle Douglas in the morn. There ye will marry my daughter."_

_The room started to spin and the air in his lungs seized. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his palms went cold. Had the king gone daft? Robert Bruce knew what he was, yet he was willing to marry his daughter off to a dragon. "God's Teeth! " James wiped the sweat streaking down from his temple. He began to pace the small space in front of the king's desk._

_Finally, James gathered his thoughts before he did something he'd regret, like run down to the gallows and hang himself._

_"Yer Grace, with all due respect, I can no' marry yer daughter."_

_"'Tis a shame." Bruce paused and reached inside his desk drawer. He began to unroll a scroll that appeared to have a map on it. "Angus is such a beautiful piece of land, tucked between two huge lochs."_

_The king paused for a moment. "Tell me, James, how much coin do the oat fields bring in? Profitable, I assume?"_

_"Aye." James had been defeated. There was no way around it. The king always got what he wanted, one way or another. Also, there was that feeling of gratitude gnawing in his gut. He had to marry the king's daughter, for he owed a debt._

_"So, prepare for travel?" Bruce asked._

_"Aye."_

_"Good. This makes me a happy man." Then he began signing land deeds over to James._

A generous and inviting dowry was too enticing to turn down. Marrying Abigale gained him not only Angus, but Bothwell Castle by the River Clyde in South Lanarkshire as well. But this newly owned land did not change the fact that James did not want a wife. With orders to take the princess to the safety of Angus and far away from the lowlands, James had to wonder if King Robert had other motives as well. _Why does he remove me from the battlefield? Send me to the Highlands to live the mundane life of a clan chief?_ _God's Teeth! Am I more valuable behind a desk?_

Nay, he was one of the seven Guardians of Scotland, chosen to defend and protect Scotland like his fellow Dragonkine warriors. Plus, his mind was sharp when it came to strategizing attacks—the best there was. The king could not afford to lose him on the battlefield.

Regardless of Robert's reasoning, he now had a wife. "A wife." He spat. A forceful hoof stomp and aggravated tail swish let James know he had tightened his saddle a little snug for his horse's liking. He rubbed his black mare on her chest. "Sorry, Lassie."

He made his way toward the stable entrance. Leaning against the doorframe, he looked over at Castle Douglas. Rolling green hills surrounded his land. He remembered a time when the castle was not so pleasant. It had been seized by English filth.

_His family was outside the bailey's protective wall, just far enough away from the brutal massacre of the Clan Douglas men. No familiar war cries were left. Only the blood-curdling sounds of the wounded being slain by the English army could be heard. Their clan had been on the verge of being defeated. Sir William, James's father and clan chief, had to make a fast decision. The enemy had fought hard and were closing in on them. An English victory for certain._

_Sir William looked into his young son's eyes. A war-weary face—bloodied and swollen—yet he was still a man in charge. "Son do no' fret or shed tears for me," Sir William said._

_"Da, please let me stay and fight," wee James begged as he swiped at a tear._

_"Nay, Clan Douglas fought well, but the odds were against us. We have lost too many good men today. I must do what's right for our people."_

_James shook his head and tightened his fists. "Nay, we can still fight. This is our home."_

_Sir William bent down in front of his son and placed his hands on his shoulders. It was difficult for James to see his father this way, a broken man desperate to keep his family together. James raged inside just like the bloody war raging inside the walls of Castle Douglas._

_"James, listen to me. Ye are the man of the family now." A sob from his wife caught his father's attention. William paused and looked up at her. His beautiful wife had fought so hard to hold back her tears but had failed. Her body trembled as she covered her mouth with her shaking hand to stifle another sob. She pulled their younger son of seven years close to her._

_William turned his attention to his wee James. "Ye must take care of your mother and brother now."_

_Tears rushed down James's face as he shook his head in denial. His face reddened with anger. What a task to bear for a boy no more than ten winters old._

_"Ye know the plan; get to Paris and there ye will be safe. Do ye understand me, lad?" Sir William asked._

_James's anger got the best of him. He was upset with his father for sending him away. He was angry at the English filth for ripping his family apart. He raged inside and began to erupt like a spewing volcano._

_"Ye are a coward!" He began to hit his father in the chest with tiny fists. "Coward!"_

_William threw his arms around his son and hugged him tight, as if he understood the boy's outrage._

_Heavy marching grew nearer. There was no time to waste. If William wanted to keep his family safe he had to say goodbye now. Their time together had come to an end._

_Sir William let go of his son. James took a few steps back and stared at his father. No words were spoken between them._

_James watched his mother cry convulsively as she clung to the broken man. His little brother stood between his parents as if they were his shelter from this terrible nightmare. James's vision blurred. He looked around at the mayhem of bloodied warriors fighting and the destruction they left behind. This day would be forever branded into his memories. He vowed he would come home and avenge his family's name._

_William let go of his wife and turned to a young Robert Bruce. He trusted only one man with his family, and Robert, with his English connections, was the one who could get his family safely to Paris._

_William clasped his hand on Robert's shoulder, "Bruce, ye make damn sure they're on that boat to Paris. Understood? "_

_"Aye."_

_James watched his father as he turned to face him. Standing tall, he took one last tender look at his family huddled together, tears streaking their faces. James knew this was his father's way of saying their final goodbye._

_William nodded to Robert. "God speed, my friend."_

_With the last bit of pride William had, he stood tall and smiled at his wife. Like a man on a mission, he turned, unsheathed his sword, and ran back to the battle as he yelled one last war cry. "A Douglas! A Douglas!" As God was his witness, he would take down a few more Sassenach before he surrendered his home._

James took a deep breath as a tear threatened to fall. He would take his last breath slaying the English for taking everything from him. His father, his land, and his mother. His mother never got over losing his father. Some said she died of the plague, but he knew better; she died of a broken heart.

When James had returned to Scotland several summers ago, he reclaimed his home from the English and avenged his family's name. As his eyes roamed to the west side of Castle Douglas, charred stone reminded him of that night. He and three other dragons beheaded the English garrison and torched them. It was the first time he had unleashed the wrath of his dragon, and he felt no remorse for the English scum. Even today, when the wind blew just right, the smell of burning flesh could still be detected.

He sent a message that day. From then on, he was known as the Black Douglas, the Bogeyman.

A soft female voice came from the rear of the stable and claimed his attention.

"Good Morn, Fergus," Abigale greeted her fine steed.

The brilliant white steed let out a welcoming nicker as Abigale approached.

"I've a surprise for ye," she teased. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a juicy red apple.

Ears pricked in her direction, he bobbed his head up and down as if he approved of her surprise.

Abigale offered the apple and held onto it as he took a bite. She found Fergus's favorite spot to be scratched, right between his ears, and gave him a good scratch.

"Ah, Fergus, what are we going to do?" Abigale sighed as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

After last eve's performance, Abigale had pondered most of the morning away as she ate stale oatcakes and picked at her black pudding. James had never returned, leaving her to a peaceful night's rest. Why had he showed her mercy? He was her husband now, certainly he had the right to bed his wife.

"That really is some kind of horse ye have."

Abigale jumped, surprised to find she wasn't alone. "Ye frightened me." She held her hand over her chest. "How long have ye been there...watching me?"

"Long enough." James pushed off the wall and grabbed a saddle nearby. "We leave for Angus soon. 'Tis best ye prepare for travel."

A crease appeared across her forehead. "I thought Castle Douglas was yer home?"

"Aye, it is. Archibald, my brother, will stay here to protect it. We head north." James tipped his chin toward the Highlands.

"The Highlands?"

James huffed. "Aye."

Abigale followed closely behind as he set the saddle down next to Fergus's stall. As he turned around, she almost bumped into him. His cold stare sent chills over her skin, causing her to take a step back. One look from those eyes made her feel so small, like a wee child.

"But it's dangerous to travel through the Highlands." She glanced down at her clasped hands nervously. "We would be much safer here."

"What's wrong lass, are ye afraid a rogue Highlander will jump out of the woods to attack ye?"

Abigale didn't take kindly to being teased. Being a woman and out on her own beyond the safety of the nunnery, she feared traveling to the Highlands.

She stood with her hands on her hips. "Ye see, my laird, I've only met one Highlander in my life and I'm no' impressed." She looked him up and down.

Before she knew what was happening, James had closed the distance between them. Abigale felt giant hands grip her waist as she was pulled against a hard wall of muscle. Confused, she threw her hands to his chest in protest. She did not realize the repercussions of her actions.

As soon as their bodies connected, she felt the heat radiating off him. Amber eyes swirled, leaving her breathless. She felt his cock harden against her stomach and instantly her body burned. He lowered his head. God help her, he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited for his kiss, but to her disappointment, it never came.

Quickly, she was hoisted up by her waist, only to open her eyes to find James setting her down off to the side and out of his way. He walked past her and lifted a bridle off of a hook as if she had no effect on him. "Ye best hold yer tongue, lass. I have no tolerance for it," he warned her.

Abigale stood dumbfounded. As sure as the sky was blue, he'd been going to kiss her, she knew it. She felt it. Why did he stop? _Did I do something wrong_? She touched her lips, and watched him walk over and grab the bridle like nothing had happened. This maddened her to no end. Threats and intimidation would not work on her; they only added fire to her fury. She had spent the last eight years surviving Abbess Margaret's mercilessness. Now that she was free from her, Abigale wouldn't stand for more abuse.

"Is that the way ye Highlanders talk to yer wives?" she bit back. "If so, my laird, I'm still no' impressed."

James strode in front of her. "Lass, let's get one thing straight, I give the orders and ye are to obey."

Abigale felt her blood boil up to the tips of her ears as she grabbed her skirts to prevent herself from slapping him.

"I didnae want a wife. 'Tis best ye keep yer distance and do as ye're told." James broke their gaze and began to saddle a horse.

Abigale didn't know where her courage came from, but this man was not going to get the best of her, nor the satisfaction of knowing how furious he'd made her. _Arrogant fool._ "I see 'tis best to be seen but not heard. Like a well-trained dog?"

James began to tighten the saddle. "See it as ye wish, just do as ye're told." He brushed her off like an annoying fly buzzing around.

Before Abigale made her way back to Castle Douglas to pack, she sauntered next to James, so he had to look at her. "Ye're an arse, James Douglas."

James smirked and gave the saddle strap a good yank. "Now lass, is that any way to talk to yer husband?"

She shot him a disgusted glare. She thought better than to say anything more, so she turned on her heels and headed to the castle.

# 5

_A road less traveled..._

* * *

The announcement that they were going to make camp for the night was music to Abigale's ears. Keeping up with five mountainous Highlanders as they rode through the Highlands started to wear on her body. Breaks were few, short-lived, and the rocky, rough terrain had wreaked havoc on her backside. James had rode them hard, determined to make it at least halfway to Angus before nightfall.

It was outlandish and well, plain rude to treat her like one of his men-at-arms. Though, never once, did she complain. She rode with grace and kept to herself, but inside, Abigale stewed.

_I dinnae want a wife_ , James's voice rang through her thoughts. She huffed and rolled her eyes. Did he really think she wanted to marry the Bogeyman? Nay, she was perfectly content back at the nunnery studying to become a surgeon and help heal the sick. Most nights, she found herself nose-deep in a book, reading up on herbs or looking over notes taken during an observed surgery. As long as she stayed clear of Abbess Margaret, life was, well...predictable, safe.

_Who are ye fooling, Abigale Bruce?_ The nunnery was not the place she wanted to be. In fact, as of late, she had thought about wee bairns of her own. Being a mother...just the thought warmed her inside. She wanted a husband to call a friend, a lover who could make her toes curl with one kiss. Aye, she sighed, a family. A family like she had never known. Now, that desire seemed to crumble away to nothing more than a wishful dream.

_I dinnae want a wife._

The more she pondered the more blame she placed on James. He'd made it perfectly clear she was nothing more than a nuisance...a bump in the road...a thorn in his backside. Well, she would show him who the thorn was. At this point, she could not decide what burned her arse more, James or the bloody saddle.

"We'll camp here for the night," James said.

Abigale winced when they came to a halt. Dismounting was going to be a challenge. She had no feeling in her legs.

James hopped off of his black mare and looked for a place to set up camp while two of his men went to search for wood to build a fire. Abigale noticed how he commanded his men and the way they respected him. A natural leader indeed. She respected him for that, but his manners on the other hand, well, they were left to be desired.

After she realized she was on her own, Abigale slowly slid from the saddle onto numb legs. Pain crept across her face as she steadied herself against Fergus. The white steed turned his head and nudged her with his wet nose as if to ask how she fared. Patting him on the head, she smiled and reassured him that she was fine.

Desperately needing to set up a spot so she could get some rest, she began to untie a rolled-up blanket and fur. As she took her first step, her legs buckled. Strong arms caught her from behind before she hit the hard ground.

"Ye all right, lass?" James asked.

_Are ye all right?_ What kind of question was that? Of course, she was not all right; her backside throbbed and her legs stung. She was exhausted, famished, and in desperate need of a bath. Besides, she really did not want his help. She would be fine on her own, just like she had been her whole life. _Alone._

"I'm fine." Abigale brushed him off and tried to walk away only to stumble back into his arms.

"Here, let me help. Ye can take my pallet." Before Abigale could protest, James scooped her up in his strong arms and walked her over to his pallet.

He set her gently down on soft fur, then reached into a satchel and handed her an oatcake. "Here, eat this."

Abigale eyed him curiously. "Thank ye."

She ate in silence. Wondering why he was treating her with kindness, she watched him closely. Walking back to the black mare, he retrieved a waterskin. Oh, thank Heavens...water. She was parched.

"Drink this," James demanded.

Abigale gladly took the skin and drank vigorously. A strong, overbearing taste burned her throat. She spat the amber liquid and coughed.

"What's wrong?" His lips curled up into a smile. "Have ye no' had whiskey before?"

His wife shot him a cross look as she wiped her mouth off on her sleeve. "Nay. 'Tis awful."

"'Tis an acquired taste, but trust me, it will help."

After the wretched liquid settled in her stomach, Abigale watched James tend to the fire.

She could get used to this side of James. It made her wonder why he didn't want a wife. He was honorable, which she knew, because of his loyalty to her father.

At times, he seemed to be far away, deep in thought. Perhaps a love gone bad or had he lost a lover? If unlucky in love, she could understand wanting to protect his heart from the pain. Then again, what did she know? She had never been in love.

Her body warmed. Looking up, her eyes met James's. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. She'd been found out, for James now stood over her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What?" Her husband stood firm.

Quickly, she looked down into her lap, not wanting to make eye contact. "'Tis nothing."

"Lass, say what's on yer mind before ye worry yer bottom lip off."

Abigale sighed in defeat. She had been told before that she was easy to read. Sister Kate had voiced that many times. _Abigale Bruce, ye wear yer heart on yer sleeve._ Surprisingly, Abigale wished Sister Kate was there now. She needed her words of wisdom.

She looked up at the towering warrior. "Why do ye no' want a wife?"

James clenched his jaw as if this question irritated him. "Abigale, get some rest." He began to walk off toward his horse.

"My laird, if I may—"

James stopped abruptly and turned to face her. "Nay, ye may not."

"It's just...ye've been kind and ––"

"Lass, dinnae mistake my concern for yer wellbeing as an act of kindness." Sternness swept across his face. "I'm no' the monster everyone makes me out to be."

Abigale knew better than to push the issue, so she let him walk away. She took the skin and sipped; this time the whiskey didn't taste as bad. Welcoming the warmth, she snuggled deep into the furs and lost herself in thought. Sooner or later, she would find out.

The last purple hue in the sky disappeared beyond the horizon as dusk quickly turned into night. The chattering of night creatures filled the air, while a raging fire flickered and crackled in the center of camp. James sat propped up against a weeping willow tree where he'd spent most of the night watching Abigale. It wasn't long after the second sip of whiskey that her eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Deeply nestled inside the furs, she looked like an angel. Long dark eyelashes rested on her flawless cheeks, her mouth was slightly open, and James could hear her soft breaths. She mesmerized him, enticed him.

Furthermore, he found it quite enjoyable watch her. The vision of Abigale talking to Fergus back at the stables brought a smile to his face. The way her face lit up, the soft touches she gave Fergus, even the way she bit her bottom lip when she was deep in thought captivated him. He cursed silently. _Was he really becoming jealous of a horse?_

Abigale sighed, bringing his attention back to the beauty sleeping right before him. Soft curves called to him as she nuzzled deeper into the furs. His body ached as he fought the urge to slide under the covers and press his body against hers. His hands twitched with the thought of running them over her breasts, down her stomach, and... Before he knew it, he licked his lips. _How sweet she would taste._

He scrubbed his hands down his face like he was trying to erase her from his thoughts. No such luck. With his bastard-of-a-dragon stirring inside, the beast purred in agreement. God's teeth, he should have claimed her when he had the chance. However, he knew claiming her would be his undoing.

A rant from Rory grabbed his attention. With a last look at Abigale, James made his way to where his men were sitting around the fire. He hadn't joined his fellow Dragonkine yet. To be honest, he didn't want to hear about the wenches they had been with or their recent tavern brawls. Nay, James had other things on his mind.

"I dinnae understand –"

"Understand what?" James interrupted Rory as he approached.

"My laird, I'm afraid Rory has had a wee drop too much mead and is loose with his tongue." Conall eyed Rory as if telling him to shut up.

"I have nay." Rory became defensive. "Ye know 'tis true. Humans have their rightful king. Why can't we have _our_ king?" Rory drained the last of his mead.

Magnus, an elder Dragonkine, spoke up, answering Rory's question. "Aye lad, at one time we did have our own king who ruled along with King MacAlpin. Dragonkine flourished in our own kingdom." Magnus had a faraway look on his face, as if he remembered that time very well. "Aye, many glorious years of peace."

Rory gazed at Magnus. "Until we became a threat."

"'Tis true, King MacAlpin slaughtered our people along with our king, King Drest," Conall said.

"Aye, it was supposed to be a peaceful meeting between kings and our royal seven. Ale, food, and women aplenty were offered as the kings made peace. So we thought. Before King Drest and our royals knew what was happening, the floors to the great hall had opened up sending our people deep underground. Bodies impaled upon sharp spikes, they couldn't move, and the trap doors on the floor were sealed shut. Covered with earth, our king and royals were buried alive." Magnus paused, clearing his throat. "Only a few Dragonkine survived that day." Magnus stared into the flickering flames as if he saw the past.

"I dinnae call surrendering surviving," Rory bit back.

After the dreadful massacre, King MacAlpin had showed no mercy to the Kine. The king's orders were to slay every Dragonkine in the realm: man, woman, or child, it did not matter. As the last remaining seven Kine warriors stood with cold steel pressed against their necks and arms and legs bound with chains, King MacAlpin changed his mind. Mayhap the last seven would come in handy, as he looked onward to battling future enemies. A massive, powerful dragon on his or any future human king's side, would be of great value.

So, an agreement had been made. There would only be seven Dragonkine warriors left to roam the Earth; all warriors would be ruled by Scottish kings and become Guardians of Scotland. When called upon, they were to fight for the greater good. When one Kine died, another—chosen by the dragon elders—would take its place. Rory had a point; surrendering meant not surviving.

With no more freedom to sustain, a species will either die or become accustomed to their new surroundings. Being immortal left them with only one option, adapt. As time would tell, some Dragonkine had a hard time with this. Most warriors' dragons were bloodthirsty with the desire for revenge, so being on the battlefield killing humans satisfied their carnal need, good or bad. Morals didn't count as long as there was blood shed. Living eternally came with another burden for some, falling in love with a human woman. If a woman could overcome the idea that she loved a dragon, she would become immortal as long as her mate was alive. Because most women rejected a Kine's dragon side, most warriors protected their hearts and vowed to never fall in love.

As James thought further about the history of the ancients, the downfall of their kingdom, he knew what the feud between the kings was about, a woman. "King MacAlpin's son fell in love with King Drest's daughter. If they were to have married, the next male heir would have become the Dragonkine king _and_ king of Scotland. One king to rule both realms."

"Nay my friend, ye have it all wrong." Rory stalked over to James to make his point clear. "It was about King MacAlpin's greed. He wanted to rule Dragonkine and humans. We became a threat. MacAlpin killed our people in order to be king of both realms." Rory seethed with hatred.

"'Tis enough, Rory," James warned. He could feel the tension rising and nothing good ever came from sparring dragons.

"Nay, think about it. There are seven of our Kine left, and we have no clue where three of the seven are. James, 'tis not natural for Dragonkine to live in a human world. We need our women to calm our dragons. If we had our own king, ye would no' have had to marry her." Rory pointed in Abigale's direction.

James could feel his anger as it started to rage inside, for he knew Rory had a point. But the past was the past. The King of Scotland held his loyalty. "Abigale is of no concern to ye," James bit back.

Conall stood, prepared to break up a nasty fight. "Indeed, it is the past." He peered sternly at Rory.

Both James and Rory stood eye-to-eye, nostrils flared as they waited for one of them to make a move.

"Enough." Magnus's deep demanding voice rang out. "'Twas long ago. We have mended those old wounds and our king is the King of Scotland."

"But old wounds have left deep scars, Magnus, ye can no' deny it," Rory declared as he held James's stare.

Magnus stretched as he stood, breaking up the standoff between the warriors. "Lads, I'll take first watch." He walked toward his pallet. Indeed, old wounds left deep scars.

Abigale tossed and turned, eventually awaking to a throbbing pain throughout her backside; her skin burned and muscles ached. The few sips of whiskey had helped some, but no matter which way she turned, she could not ease the pain. As she lay on her side, she remembered seeing a clump of low-growing purple flowers, self-heal. She had just read about its ability to help heal wounds and soothe bruises. She needed to find that plant.

Rhythmic, thunderous snoring belted through the night as four massive Highlanders with their mouths open and bodies limp surrounded the campsite. Their boisterous snores could have awakened the dead. _Perfect timing to search for that plant_ , she thought. No one would know she was gone. Abigale sat up and stretched her stiff legs before she made an effort to stand.

Thankful she had feeling back in her legs, she walked gingerly toward the woodland's edge away from camp. Not remembering exactly where she had seen the flowers, she went deeper. The forest came alive as the fullness of the moon shined down over the trees, casting eerie shadows throughout the glen. Frogs croaked and small, nocturnal animals rustled in the undergrowth. As she passed an old tree, an owl hooted, causing her to jump. She shook her head and laughed. _Abigale, ye big chicken, 'tis only an owl, for heaven's sake_. But still the darkness gave her chills.

She continued her search through every blade of grass, every clump of flowers, but came up empty-handed. If it wasn't for the constant throbbing, she would have given up. It had to be around here somewhere; she had seen it. Hope of finding her precious flower started to fade and so did her energy.

Walking toward the loch, she noticed, from the corner of her eye, a purple flower. The moon lit the flower as if it was glowing. A smile crossed her lips as she stopped and picked a few petals from the plant.

Sleep always eluded James. Plagued with recurring nightmares, he preferred not to sleep. As of late, the dreams had become all too real. Death was coming for him; he felt it deep in his bones. Rolling over on his back, frustrated, he cursed. Even the Bogeyman had demons nipping at his heels.

James pushed aside his thoughts and decided a dip in the nearby loch would calm his nerves. He looked over at the clump of furs where Abigale slept. She looked to be deeply snuggled and resting comfortably. He couldn't see her beautiful auburn head, for she must have hidden in the furs to drown out the snores. Aye, a quick dip in the cold loch would clear his head.

As he approached the loch, he came across a small figure leaning against a boulder. He pulled out his dirk and crouched down. As he drew closer, the clouds in the dark sky shifted just enough to shed light upon the figure.

"Abigale?" His forehead creased in confusion. "What are ye doing out here, lass?"

"James? I thought ye were sleeping." She stood, trying not to show how much pain she was in.

"Answer my question." He crossed his massive arms in front of his chest.

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to take a walk."

He didn't believe her. No way would a lass be out here in the dark just to take a stroll. It was too dangerous. The glen was known for its abundance of wild boar, and when approached, the beasts could be quite nasty. Aye, she was hiding something from him; she was a horrible liar. "What's that in yer hand?" He reached for the purple petals, but she hid them behind her back.

"Nothing. 'Tis my business."

"Abigale, I'm in no mood for games." James stepped forward, then grabbed the flower from behind her.

"Give it back!" She yanked the flower from his hands. "Ye have no right coming out here telling me what to do. Ye told me to keep my distance, now ye keep yers," she demanded.

He noticed she was uneasy on her feet when she tried to take a step away from him. She had swayed, lost her balance, and grabbed ahold of the boulder to steady herself.

_Went for a walk, my arse,_ James thought. The lass was in too much pain.

Hunched over, Abigale supported her weight with both hands on the boulder. Indeed, she was in a great deal of pain. "What ails ye?" He brushed her hair away from her face so he could see her.

She looked up at him and her eyes stole his breath. "Nothing. I'll be fine."

Even in pain, the lass couldn't be more beautiful, yet he was beginning to find out that she was as stubborn as he was. "Lass, ye dinnae look fine. Now, let me help." Looking down, he noticed a trail of blood running down her leg. "Ye're bleeding." Concerned, James grabbed her skirts and frantically started to push them up her thigh. He needed to know where the blood was coming from.

"Enough... enough." She swatted at his hands. "I'll let ye help if ye let go of my skirt." Abigale surrendered.

"Fine." In one fast motion, James grabbed her under dress and ripped a strip off. "I'll be right back. Dinnae move. I'm going to the loch for some water."

"D _innae move_." Abigale repeated his words silently. Where did he think she was going to go? If she could, she would run away and hide, for this was going to be the most humiliating night of her life. There was no way she was going to accept his help. First of all, she was madder than a wet hen, and second, she was not going to let him rub self-heal on her arse. She would make do somehow, as soon as she got rid of him.

Clearing moss from a spot on the boulder, Abigale began to crush the petals into a paste. It was not ideal, but at this point, she could care less. She needed relief.

James quickly returned from the loch and began to lift Abigale's skirts.

"Wait I –"

"Lass, I'm just going to wipe the blood off and see where it's coming from."

Clearly, he wasn't going to take no for an answer, so there was no need to hold on to the last bit of dignity she had left. They locked eyes, and she could see his true concern. Slowly, she gathered her skirts and turned around, exposing her arse.

James grabbed her hips, moved her toward the moonlight, and bent down behind her. She heard a sigh, but James did not say a word.

Finally, Abigale looked over her shoulder. "How bad is it?"

"Well lass, ye have a bad case of saddle sores. One of the blisters has opened and that's where the blood is coming from."

Ever so gently, James began to dab away at the blood. Abigale hissed when he swiped the wet fabric over the injured skin. She felt a cool breeze against her skin and it wasn't from the night air. _Did he just blow on my bottom?_

It wasn't long before the pain started to dull. Abigale leaned her head back and stared into the starry night sky. Could this night get any worse? She was mortified standing there naked from the waist down. Surely, he must be repulsed by the look of her bottom. She wished she could pray this night away.

James stood and helped straighten Abigale's skirts. She didn't want to look at him; how could she? Her whole world had been turned upside down and now her future lay in the hands of a man who did not want her. Maybe it was exhaustion taking over or perhaps emotions were getting the best of her. Whatever it might be, tears started to streak down her face.

James placed a finger under her chin, lifting her head back until their eyes met.

"Och, lass, don't cry." James wiped a tear from her cheek. "Ye have the finest arse I've ever seen."

Abigale laughed through her tears and swatted at his chest playfully. "Dinnae make me laugh. I'm mad at ye."

Gently, James picked her up and cradled her in his arms. "I guess I deserve that much."

As they made their way back to camp, Abigale laid her head on his shoulder and lost herself in sleep.

# 6

_Only the very brave and the very foolish enter the dragon's lair._

* * *

"My lady, ye best get up."

Abigale awoke to a plump older woman with light brown hair streaked with gray, creating a commotion. The woman removed the furs from a small window, letting in the sunlight. With much irritation, Abigale quickly pulled the covers over her head to block the cursed light.

A few moments later, Abigale emerged from under the furs, struggling to open her eyes. She stretched her stiff, sleep-deprived body. Where was she? Panicked, she sat up and looked around the room for a sign as to where she was. Tapestries hung from the gray, stone walls. One showed a gruesome battle scene. _Wait_... Abigale rubbed the sleep from her eyes. _Is that a dragon fighting?_ Shaking that thought away, she noticed a fire burning in the hearth that filled one side of the room and the smell of lavender lingered in the air. _A bath,_ she sighed.

As she scooted to the edge of the bed, visions of days past clouded her memory. Looking down at her hand, she traced the golden wedding band with her thumb. The wedding was not a dream, but a reality. A dull tingle on her backside reminded her of the long trip and...oh no. Humiliation washed over her. James had tended to her wounds.

Abigale shot out of bed and ran over to the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. Quickly, she lifted her nightgown, turned around, and looked over her shoulder. Amazed by what she saw, she rubbed her hand across the healing skin. She felt no pain, just a dull ache. _How could she have healed so fast? How long had she been asleep?_

"Oh, my lady, forgive me. Ye're in pain from yer travels, aye?" Abigale dropped her gown and turned to face the woman.

"Come lass, I have a bath waiting for ye." The woman gently led Abigale toward the bath and patted her arm, reassuring her. "The warmth will help ease the pain."

Without a doubt, this woman was in charge of the castle, for she had a firm but caring way about her. Thank God, because if Abigale had to deal with another Griselda she would go daft. "Where am I?"

"Black Stone on the Hill, my lady."

_Black Stone?_ Why couldn't she remember how she got there? She remembered James picking her up and carrying her back to the campsite, but nothing after. Who brought her to the bedchamber? Who undressed her? . Had she been that exhausted and slept through everything?

Steam rose from the inviting bath water. _Heaven awaits._

"And how long have I been asleep?"

"Two days, lass."

"Two days?" How could this be?

The woman began to pull off her nightgown. Abigale stepped back and pushed the woman's hands away.

"A wee bit shy, are we?" The woman turned her back to give Abigale some privacy.

Abigale pulled her nightgown over her head. Then she dipped a toe in the water. It felt heavenly as she lowered herself into the tub. She relaxed and allowed her body to absorb the heat.

The woman held out a bar of soap and pointed at Abigale's hair. "May I?"

Abigale wasn't fond of this type of treatment; no one paid her much attention back at the abbey except for Abbess Margaret. Before she left the abbey, the wretch punished her severely, using Abigale's hair as her weapon of choice. She could still feel the pain of her hair being ripped from her head.

Late one night, she had awoken to the dreadful woman coiling Abigale's hair around her hand. "Ye think ye're pretty, don't ye, bastard?" She'd been yanked out of bed by her hair, dragged down to the church, and forced to pray to be forgiven for all the sins she had been accused of committing.

Honestly, she didn't want to be touched by anyone, but she felt like she could trust this woman. "Aye." She smiled meekly.

Working the soap into a lather, the woman let out a soft chuckle. "Dinnae worry, it will be over before ye know it."

"What will be over?" Abigale was confused.

"Aye, ye are a married woman now. Yer husband will want to bed his wife."

Abigale laughed to herself. Apparently, this woman didn't know how James felt about her and the marriage arrangement. He'd made that perfectly clear. _I dinnae want a wife_. Then just like a change in the wind, her thoughts turned on her. Back at Castle Douglas they had made everyone believe they had consummated their marriage. Obviously, this woman knew differently.

"How do ye know we haven't...already?"

The woman got up and retrieved a pitcher. "Lass, yer secret is safe with me."

She believed that was true, for the gray-haired woman had showed her more kindness than anyone had for a long time.

Abigale bit her bottom lip with worry and let out a shaky breath. "I've no' been with a man." Looking down at her hands she nervously picked at her nails. "I've heard it hurts."

"Aye lass, but only for a wee bit. Dinnae worry yer pretty head about it." Reaching over, the woman grabbed the pitcher full of fresh water. "Now, lean back so I can rinse the soap out of yer hair."

Abigale leaned her head back and looked up at the woman. "I'm no' used to all this fuss."

"Ye're a princess, of course we will fuss over ye. Besides, I like ye." The woman winked and gave her a warm smile like a mother would give a child.

Recalling the last eight years, she'd supposedly benefitted from being the king's daughter. But look where that had gotten her. Multiple tongue-lashings and extra duties. There was no royal treatment for her; princess was just a given title. Abigale guessed she should be thankful. Even though she was a bastard, her father had recognized her as his own, and that was a blessing in its own right. Nay, she did not need more.

"I dinnae expect any special treatment. I'm no' much of a cook, but I can help."

The woman clucked her tongue. "There's no need to help—"

"I insist," Abigale said firmly.

"Well then, ye are the lady, if that's yer wish—"

"It is."

After a few moments of silence, the woman stood. "I'll leave a fresh gown out for ye and I'll be back with some food."

She started to leave when Abigale called out, "Wait, yer name!"

The woman turned around. "Me name is Alice."

Tears filled Abigale's eyes. "Thank ye, Alice, for being so kind to me."

Alice's smile offered Abigale hope. Hope that mayhap she would find happiness at Black Stone on the Hill.

After her bath, Abigale made her way downstairs. She heard two women talking and followed the chatter to the kitchens. One of the voices was Alice but the other she didn't recognize. Abigale stood and watched the women before making her presence known. She was not keen on kitchen duties. In fact, she hated to cook.

"I've no' met a princess before." The redhead confessed as she blew a ringlet of hair from her eye.

"Effie, I think ye have washed that plate clean." Alice was quite aware how nervous Effie was about meeting Abigale. Word had spread fast that the princess of Scotland was there and now wed to their clan chief.

Drying off the spotless plate, Effie turned to Alice who was preparing the nightly feast. The whole clan was coming together in celebration of the return of The Douglas and his new bride.

"Alice, is she pretty? I wonder how many fairytales she has about growing up as royalty." Indeed, Effie was daydreaming about her own prince.

"Effie!" Alice scolded, "Keep yer head out of the clouds, lass. There is much work to be done. Grab that basket of carrots and start choppin'." Effie sauntered over to the basket. She paused as she saw Abigale standing in the doorway.

"Awe, lass, come in, come in." Alice welcomed Abigale with open arms.

Effie dropped a knife and dashed over to Abigale, swiftly wiping her hands on her tattered apron. "My lady." She did her best curtsy, trying to impress the princess.

"Please, no need to be formal with me." Abigale brushed off the curtsy. However, she was surprised the girl knew her true identity. Indeed, Abigale felt she was safe. Besides, this was why her father had arranged this union between her and the Black Douglas, to keep her safe. With a savage reputation like his, no one would dare try to harm her.

Abigale wondered where James was. It had been two days since last she saw him. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, as if she wasn't whole. She shook her head in irritation. She knew very well who was missing, and she longed to see him, though she didn't understand why. "Alice? Where is Laird Douglas?"

"He's out in the bailey sparring with his men. They should be back midday."

"Oh." A little disappointed, Abigale had been hoping to see James sooner.

The morning passed quickly, as Alice attempted to teach Abigale how to make bread and prepare the night's feast. It wasn't an easy task. She just wasn't a good cook. Not for lack of trying. She kneaded the dough just like Alice instructed, but the blasted sticky paste stuck to the table and all over her hands. To top it off, the bread turned out hard as a rock.

"Dinnae fash yerself, lass, 'tis only yer first try. We can cut up the bread and use it for trenchers," Alice said.

A blast of laughter exploded between the women. God bless Alice for having the patience of a saint. She and Effie had made Abigale feel right at home, and she truly enjoyed their company. As they worked washing vegetables and chopping herbs, Alice and Effie had enlightened her about Castle Black Stone and its clan members.

There was a chapel near the castle where services were held regularly. She also was informed that the smith was not only a master behind his anvil, he also had a way with the lasses. There was a healer with an exceptional gift, always on call. Then there were the men...Highlanders. Rogues up to no good, but without a doubt, they defended their clan with honor and with their lives. Though as Alice explained more about them, Abigale had a feeling they respected her highly and gave her no trouble.

After nearly setting her second loaf of bread to flames, Abigale, Effie, and Alice retired to the great hall. A savory aroma filled the air, indicating that a variety of wild game was cooking in the kitchen. Servants scurried about arranging the great hall for the feast. Assorted wild flowers littered the tops of wooden tables, and rugs of bright colors covered the stone floor. Tapestries hung high and draped the walls, and candlelight shining from the sconces illuminated the room, giving it a golden glow. The great hall looked fit for a king.

The women took their seats next to the hearth where baskets full of clothes sat waiting to be mended. Soft leather boots needed new laces, tunics needed patching, and trews needed stitching. "Alice, do all of these items belong to James?" Abigale couldn't imagine that a man like James would possess such a large amount of clothing.

"Nay, as a clan, we take care of our people. So, when our men come home from battle, we mend their clothes." Alice handed her a bloodstained tunic.

Abigale studied the stain for a while, her brows creased as she wondered who had worn this tunic and if they had lived to see another day. That stain represented so much more. It was a reminder of just how unstable Scotland was. Brave men and women had lost their lives fighting for their freedom from the English. As if that wasn't enough, clan fought against clan, brother against brother, blood against blood. _When would the fighting stop_? she thought. She had seen and healed so many wounded men and watched too many of them die. Life was valuable to her and needed to be cherished, not destroyed.

The sound of heavy paws trampling through the great hall broke Abigale from her thoughts. Two Scottish deerhounds bounded through the door. The beasts ran past her with their tongues hanging from the sides of their mouths in exhaustion. As if it were routine, they plopped down next to the hearth. Men jesting followed.

"Magnus, old man, I think ye have lost yer touch," a blond-haired man boasted and shoved Magnus with his shoulder.

"Or he's still drunk with mead," another man blurted.

"Ye may outwit me with yer fancy blades, but I'd behead ye with one swing of my axe." Magnus's rough voice boomed over their laughter.

Abigale's heart stopped as James approached them. His long, black hair stuck to his neck and bare chest with sweat, his kilt hung low on his hips. God help her, this man was truly beautiful.

Smiling, he strode over to Alice. "My dear, Alice." He leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Och, how I've missed ye, bonny lass."

Alice dismissed his greeting with a swish of her hand. "My laird, ye know how to make a lady blush."

For a moment, Abigail envied Alice, for she wished James would look at her the way he looked at the older woman.

James glanced at Abigail and greeted Effie with a nod.

"I'll be in my bedchamber." He headed for the stone and iron staircase.

Alice scolded James like a child. "Nay so fast...aren't ye going to introduce yer men to yer lady?"

James rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to his men, who now stood in perfect formation in front of Abigale like proper Highland soldiers. James shook his head.

"My apologies. This is Rory Cameron, my cousin, Marcus Stewart, Conall Hamilton, and the handsome man in red, is Magnus."

Magnus grunted and rolled his eyes in response to James's jest. "It be me pleasure to meet ye, my lady."

Abigale remembered Magnus from the camp but had never been introduced properly. Magnus had long, unruly red hair, which was a shade lighter than his full beard that hung past his chin. Though they all seemed to look about the same age, Magnus had an authoritative demeanor.

Rory approached Abigale, his eyes shimmered a bright blue when he smiled at her. "My lady." He knelt down without losing eye contact with her. _What a charmer, with a gaze like Rory's, the lasses must swoon over him,_ Abigale thought.

A deep voice broke her trance as Conall approached. "Princess, 'Tis nice to be formally introduced." A scattered mess of chocolate curls, wet with sweat, hung just below his ears. He bent down, reached for her hand, and kissed it. He was pure dominance in the same way James was, but seemed approachable.

"Aye, I do remember ye. Ye were my escort to the kirk?"

"Aye." He winked.

After Conall finished his greeting, he looked at Effie, and with a cocky smile turned Effie's freckled cheeks three shades of red. The lass quickly looked down at the leather boot she was re-lacing.

Marcus stayed where he was and nodded.

A chill raced down Abigale's spine as Marcus glared skeptically at her. She hadn't noticed him on her travels to Black Stone, but the others she remembered. Abigale turned her attention back to James who was watching her intently with that protective stare.

"I'll be in my bedchamber." And without another word, her husband turned on his heels and ascended the stairs two at a time until he reached the loft that circled the great hall. Abigale watched him until he disappeared down a long corridor leading to their— _his_ bedchamber.

# 7

_There is no room for two dragons in one pond. ~ Chinese Proverb_

* * *

Softly stroked notes from a golden harp filled the great hall. A few hundred members of Clan Douglas were scattered around long wooden tables as they ate the night's feast of roasted game and vegetables.

James sat with his men and pondered how much his life was going to change now that he was home and had a wife. After an impressive victory at Bannockburn, he and his soldiers had sent King Edward II fleeing back to England, leaving behind a routed English army. It had been a while since James and his Dragonkine warriors had been back to Black Stone on the Hill. The battlefield had been the bane of their existence for God knew how long.

Accepting his immortality was going to be a challenge; knowing that time was nonexistent in his world, he was going to have a hard time adjusting to the solitude of a mundane life. At least if he was on the field, time didn't seem to matter and his dragon's bloodlust was appeased. Furthermore, clan life was uninteresting to him. Surely, he should be securing the borders south of Stirling, but instead, he was home and trying, with great difficulty, to adapt to the idea of solitude and a wife.

There was no more fighting for him, at least not on the battlefield. The king had made it clear that he was to protect his daughter, and if that meant accepting clan life, James would do it.

He sat across from Conall and Magnus. Rory sat next to him, working on his third trencher of food. Rory leaned over his treasure, his strong arms caging the dish like a dog guarding a bone.

Magnus and Conall sat with creased brows as they witnessed Rory's attack on a leg of mangled meat. Magnus shook his head in wonderment. "That laddie has one hell of an appetite."

Conall took a long, vigorous chug of mead, then set the empty tankard on the table. "Aye, 'tis like watching a wild beast devour its prey. Repulsive."

Juice dripped from the corners of Rory's mouth as he looked up from his trencher. "Ye can talk rubbish all ye want, but I need my strength if I intend to be betwixt a lass's legs all night." He winked.

"Poor lass," Conall snickered.

James was oblivious to the nonsense. A stunning woman in a blue dress had caught his attention the moment she came into view. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Abigale. A tight bodice enhanced her breasts just enough to tease his eyes. Long waves of auburn hair hung across her shoulders. Like a warm ray of sunshine, her face lit up as she read to a group of children.

For a moment, he envisioned that they were his wee ones. Aye, she was born to be a mother.

Two days had passed since they returned to Black Stone. Knowing the severity of her wounds, he made sure his sleep magic worked longer than usual. Or maybe he made her sleep longer so he'd have time to get his thoughts straight. However, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

His body remembered how perfectly she'd fit against him as he held her while she slept on their way back to Black Stone. Tiny as she was, she had fit perfectly tucked up next to him. Her soft curves felt good against his skin. Mayhap a wife wasn't a daft idea.

"Ye have yerself one bonny wife." Conall nodded toward Abigale and brought James's attention to him.

James cleared his throat. "Aye." He picked up his tankard and drank heavily.

"So, when are ye going to have wee bairns of yer own running round the castle?" Conall jested.

Ale shot from James's mouth and splattered all over Conall. "Bloody hell, Conall!"

"What?" He wiped the mead from his face and tunic, "Lady Abigale is a beauty, why no'?"

"Look at her one more time and I'll rip yer eyes right out of their sockets." James didn't know why he'd threatened his brother-at-arms. The more he thought about Abigale, the more his world spun out of control.

"Nay, dinnae fash yerself, my friend." The redhead playing the harp came into Conall's view.

Twelve children, between three and twelve years of age, bright-eyed, and curiously enthralled, listened closely to Abigale as she told a tale about a brave knight who fought for Scotland's freedom. Leaning toward the children, she made sure the cherub-faced bairns paid close attention.

"And as the brave knight returned home from battle, he crept up the stairs to his daughter's bedchamber to bid her a good night. When he entered the room, his daughter jumped out of bed and ran to her da. He pulled his little princess close and hugged her firmly. He made a vow that night as he said, 'do no fret my pet for ye shall be free. No longer shall ye be caged like a bird. Be free and fly, songbird.'"

Abigale paused for a moment. Remembering this story brought up the past. It was the same tale she told herself every night while living at Dunfermline Abbey.

The children rushed at her and hugged her neck. Abigale returned their affection with hugs of her own. "Now go play, and Neven, stay out of Alice's special oatcakes." She waved an authoritative finger at him. "She'll have yer backside."

"Aye, my lady." Neven bowed.

Abigale sat there for a while as she watched the children scamper off. Neven was always getting into some kind of mischief. At least two times this morn he had snuck two oatcakes and had been chased out of the kitchen by Alice several times by midday. That one there was a handful; his mother must be at her wit's end with him.

"It seems ye have a way with the wee bairns, Lady Abigale." Marcus stood next to her, leaning a shoulder against the stone wall.

"Aye." She smiled and stood. "They are precious, a true gift from God." Her eyes followed Neven as he took off toward the kitchen. Abigale shook her head and laughed. "That lad has a head full of rocks."

Marcus smirked. "Highlanders tend to have a stubborn streak."

Abigale was beginning to find this to be true.

"Seeing yer mother murdered right before yer eyes will scar ye for life."

Stunned, Abigale turned and faced Marcus. "He saw his mother die?"

"Aye. We believe he was only five summers old when it happened. 'Tis a shame. James allowed the boy to stay here. In fact, the lad has grown quite fond of yer husband and has become one of the stable grooms. Clumsy, but he cares for the horses quite well."

"How old is he?"

"Ten-and-two, we believe."

"Thank God James has given the lad a home. I can't imagine what he's been through." Abigale searched the hall until James came into view. He was with his men, talking. As she watched him from across the room, it warmed her heart knowing what he had done. He'd saved Neven's life. The Bogeyman didn't seem so evil after all.

The tempo of the music picked up as a tin whistle joined the harp. A few ladies danced to the music while the men drank their mead and recalled a time in their younger years when they could keep up with the lassies.

Abigale noticed Magnus as he stood and adjusted his tunic over his plump belly. He searched through the great hall as if looking for someone. "Och, Alice, ye bonny lass, come dance with me!" he yelled over the crowded tables.

Alice stood with her hands on her hips. "I thought ye'd never ask."

As they joined in with the other dancers at the front of the great hall, Abigale watched Magnus twirl Alice to the music. She sighed. She wished it was she and James dancing. He'd be holding her close; she'd feel his strong body next to hers, all the while making her feel as if she was the only lass in the room. She sighed again. _Oh, what a wonderful feeling that must be_. _Abigale Bruce, even if he asked ye to dance, there's one small problem. Ye don't know how._

Looking away from the dancing couples in disappointment, she began to leave the sitting area when Marcus grabbed her arm. "Lady Abigale, would ye care to dance?"

_Oh no!_ Quickly, Abigale thought of an excuse. She'd never danced with a man before. "Thank ye kindly, but I dinnae think my husband would take kindly to me dancing with another man."

Marcus pulled her close. "James is my cousin. 'Tis fine."

"Aye, how silly of me to have forgotten." How was she going to get out of this situation? For certain she would look like a fool stumbling and stomping all over his feet. A princess was expected to be graceful, for that's how you caught the eye of an admirer. At least that was what she'd been told; there was no dancing allowed at the nunnery. Oh, she could just hear the laughter now throughout the hall as their princess fell on her arse.

"Come." Marcus nodded to the other couples and started to guide her toward them.

Abigale planted her feet on the ground and tried to pull away from his grip. "Nay. I can no'."

Confusion swept Marcus's face. "Why not? I told ye, James won't mind."

There was no telling this man no. True to his word, Highlanders were stubborn. In order to save herself from the humiliation, she had to tell him the truth. Taking in a deep breath and then slowly letting it go, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I dinnae know how to dance." Abigale closed her eyes, anticipating his laughter.

Marcus placed his finger under her chin, tipping her head up. "Och, Lady Abigale, ye're in good hands I can assure ye. I'd be honored to teach ye."

Abigale shyly smiled. "Are ye sure?"

He placed his hand over his chest. "On my honor."

Marcus took her by the arm and led her to the front of the great hall where they joined the other dancers. Placing her right hand into his, he spun Abigale around as if he was showing off a prized possession. Pulling her close, he smiled. "Relax, follow my lead."

Marcus was quite a gentleman, he never once complained when Abigale stepped on his foot or tripped over her own. They just laughed about it and continued their dance. He spun her, and she truly felt beautiful. Abigale was surprised how quickly she caught on, and by the third dance, she was the one who led.

When the dance ended, she was winded and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Marcus was indeed a skillful dancer and an excellent teacher. Leading them over to a table so Abigale could sit and regain her breath, Marcus poured her some ale and sat across from her. He leaned over as if he had a secret to tell. "May I speak openly, my lady?"

"Ye shall." Curious about what he had to say, she leaned in closer.

"My cousin is a fool for allowing his bonny wife to dance with another man. If ye were my wife, I'd never allow it."

The intensity of his tone left Abigale uneasy. Certainly, she had enjoyed dancing with Marcus, but she hoped she didn't give him the wrong impression. "I must go. Thank ye for the dance." Without causing a scene, she quickly excused herself.

Long, sharp talons protruded from James's fingertips and scored the wooden tabletop. The more he watched Marcus twirl Abigale around as they danced, the deeper his daggers plunged into the wood. Marcus was mocking him, wasn't he? Pulling her body close, feeling her soft curves. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. James growled.

Uncontrolled jealousy surged through him. It cranked his dragon senses to hyper-sensitive. Never had he felt this way before, and quite frankly, he didn't like it.

James raked his claws down the table, leaving a trail of splintered wood behind as he saw Marcus whisper into Abigale's ear. God's bones! The urge to jump over the table and rip Marcus's head from his body was consuming him. His dragon vibrated and rumbled inside, itched to be released.

The sound of wood cracking caught Conall's attention. A sharp pain blasted across James's shin as Conall kicked him.

"Och," James exclaimed. "What was that for?"

Conall nodded to James's claws. "Is that necessary?"

He looked down, shiny black talons gleamed back at him. Instantly, he retracted them.

Shite, what the hell was wrong with him? Never had he lost control like that, not in public. This was not the place nor time to be testing his dragon's appetite for blood. Rubbing the back of his neck, he blew out a heavy sigh. He grabbed his tankard and drained it.

"Are ye all right?" Conall asked.

"Aye." James took out his frustrations on his tankard as he slammed it down onto the table. "Need more mead."

As Abigale weaved through the crowded great hall, she was stopped a few times to be introduced to clan members. Names and faces started to blur, for she had met so many people in such a short amount of time, it made her head hurt. Furthermore, her feet were killing her. All she wanted to do was to slip into bed and drift off to sleep.

As she reached the stairs, she'd felt as if someone was watching her. By the way her heart raced, she knew who it was. She looked across the hall and met James's smoldering gaze. His dark brows sharply arched over his amber eyes, enhancing his dangerous warrior appearance. The way he was looking at her led her to believe he would be joining her in her bedchamber tonight. Quickly, she looked away. The man shook her to the core.

Or mayhap it was wishful thinking.

As she reached her chamber, her maid was walking out with an armful of her belongings. "What are ye doing with my clothes?"

The maid bowed. "Princess, upon request, ye'll be staying in the laird's chamber."

"Who gave that order?"

"The laird, my lady."

"I'm so sorry for any misunderstanding, but I will be staying in _my_ chamber." Abigale proceeded to her chamber, but the maid blocked her.

"Please, Alice will no' be happy with me if ye dinnae obey the laird's command."

Abigale didn't want to be difficult, for Alice had been kind to her. Nor did she want her chambermaid to be scolded because she hadn't obeyed the laird.

Thinking it better to keep the peace, Abigale followed the maid to the laird's chamber. She couldn't stop the constant worry fluttering in her stomach. Mayhap the laird thought it was time to consummate their marriage.

With her nerves rattled, Abigale walked into James's chamber, her gaze went straight to the bed with pleasant satiation. It was huge with layers of sheets, blankets, and furs.

The maid undressed her down to her shift. Abigale started to unbraid her hair and was quickly stopped. "My lady, 'tis my job to cater to yer every need."

Abigale let the braid go. She didn't think she'd ever get used to such treatment.

She sat down in front of a table while the maid brushed her hair. An assortment of hair accessories and a polished silver plate were on the table. She picked up the plate and looked at her reflection. She'd gone from living life in a nunnery to being treated like a princess. Now a laird's wife.

The door to her bedchamber slammed open and two huge dogs barreled through and leapt onto the bed, making themselves right at home. Startled, Abigale raced to the bed. "Ye smelly mongrels, get down, shoo!" A wet tongue lapped at her face while the other dog made himself comfortable at the end of the bed.

"Sorry, lass, Lennox and Mahboon, stay." James filled the doorframe as he staggered in, pulling his boots off. "What are ye doing in my chamber?"

"Alice told my maid that ye wanted me moved to yer chamber."

His brows furrowed. "I said no such thing. But since ye're here, lass." He winked and pulled his tunic off and started to fumble with his kilt.

_Holy Mary, Mother of God._ Heat rush up her body to her cheeks. Her first response was to close her eyes, but female instincts told her to gaze upon every corded muscle the man was offering. She stared at his tanned, muscled chest to the ripples of his abdomen to the line of fine, dark hair that disappeared below his plaid.

"This is what ye want...no?" James asked.

James stalked toward her. Every dominating step he took, she took two in retreat until the coldness of the stone wall bit her back.

"My laird, I think there has been a misunderstanding. I should go back to my chamber." Abigale tried to move past him, but he pinned her against the wall with his body. She felt his body heat through her thin shift.

God help her, she wanted this man, though he frightened her. Not that she thought he'd harm her in any way.

His arm moved, and a part of her prayed he was going to touch her. Instead, he rested his forearm on the wall above her head and pressed his naked body against hers. He looked down at her with lustful eyes. "Ye have my attention, lass. Now what are ye going to do with it?"

Her legs threatened to buckle. Breathing became difficult as her chest worked hard to pump air through her lungs. _Well Abigale, what are ye going to do?_ A man who claimed he did not want her, yet here he was for the taking. Was this his way of intimidating her, to scare her and make her leave the bedchamber?

Intimidation did not sit well with her; in fact, it brought out her feisty side. No longer would she allow threats to rule her life as they had back at the nunnery. Should she dare make the first move? Mayhap he wasn't bluffing at all. Instincts told her to tread cautiously, but her body craved his touch. Something about the way he made her feel brought out her courage, and she was going to claim her first kiss.

Never having been kissed before, she didn't know where to start. Should she place her hands on his shoulders or wrap her arms around his waist? Should she close her eyes or leave them open? Awkward didn't begin to describe how she was feeling. Wasn't the man supposed to make the first move? _Not if they are as stubborn as James Douglas_.

She placed her hands on his chest. _Aye_ , this felt right. Astonished by his muscles, she explored his smooth chest. Her thumb grazed over his nipple, causing him to growl deeply. So, she did have an effect on him after all. She smiled.

"Och, if I'm not to yer liking, I can go find Marcus."

"Marcus?" In one moment she had been ready to claim her first kiss, while James had been concerned about Marcus. Did he really think she wanted to bed another man? It had just been a dance, nothing more.

"Ye didnae seem to mind his company earlier."

"I only danced with him because he's yer cousin." Abigale tried to reassure him, but it seemed he didn't believe her.

"I have an idea...I'll go fetch Marcus and he can join us. What say ye?" James started to pull up her shift.

"Enough. Ye're drunk." Abigale swatted at his chest. "There's no need to be jealous. It was just a dance."

"Jealous?" James released his grip on her shift. "Nay, I care not." He walked away and made his way to the bed. He sprawled out over the black furs while Lennox and Mahboon took up residence at the foot of the bed. James folded his hands behind his head. "Last offer, lass. Aye or nay."

_Most definitely nay._ He was drunk and wanted to claim her out of pure jealousy. Damn him and his stubborn ways. Abigale stormed over to the bed and grabbed a fur. "I'd rather sleep in a byre."

"Suit yerself, but if ye change yer mind—"

"Ye're a barbaric arse." Abigale quit the chamber.

# 8

_Confessed faults are half-mended. ~ Scottish Proverb_

* * *

James woke to a wet kiss on his cheek and heavy panting in his ear. He swatted at the annoying noise and moaned in protest. Another kiss and James cracked open an eye, catching Lennox, his prized hunting dog, staring at him and panting. "Enough, lassie." James wiped the slobber from his cheek and sat up. His stomach lurched, the room spun, and he grabbed his head as if it would help stop it from spinning out of control. He searched the bedchamber for any sign of life other than his dogs. He sent a grateful plea to the gods that he was alone. God's teeth, mead was going to be the death of him.

As James lay back down, he was surprised he had fallen asleep. Nightmares of death usually haunted his dreams; so peaceful slumber eluded him most of the time. Unless the amber liquid went down smoothly, then it never failed; he would drink until the mead took over.

A vision of Abigale dancing with Marcus invaded his thoughts as he recalled the way her body swayed to the music. He had never seen that kind of grace and beauty before. For a moment, he was content just watching her from across the great hall. Her face softened with a smile and the sound of her laughter soothed his soul.

That was until he had noticed the way Marcus had set his wandering eyes on her. Just like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, Marcus was testing his limits, waiting to strike. Aye, he did not trust him, and that's when the drinking began. _James Douglas, if ye were half the man ye thought ye were, ye would have claimed that dance last night._ Aye, if only he was just a man, mayhap he could be the one for Abigale.

James licked his lips and swallowed hard, still tasting his wife's kiss that lingered on the tip of his tongue like it had just happened. _Shite._ He had been such an arse to her. He had tried to walk past her bedchamber last eve, but his body betrayed him. After seeing another man with Abigale, it took all his strength not to throw her on the bed and take her...brand her...sear her body with his, so every Dragonkine or man would know she belonged to him. But he could not do it, so he took the coward's way out by intimidating her. His eyes flew open. _Abigale?_ She'd been there. He leaned over and felt the sheets next to him; they were cold.

James sat up, and Lennox hopped off the bed. "Och lassie, 'tis time to lick my wounds and go find the princess." Lennox ran to the door, Mahboon right behind her. They both scratched at it. Donning his kilt and tunic, James quit the bedchamber.

The last place James looked for Abigale was in the stable, knowing all along she would be there, yet he didn't want to face the consequences of last night. The sweet smell of fresh-cut hay filled the space. The horses paid James no mind as he walked down the main aisle expect for his black mare who stuck her head out of the stall and nickered. He patted her nose. "Settle, lass, 'tis me," he whispered.

Passing an empty stall, he thought mayhap Abigale wasn't there. He began to turn around and leave until he heard a soft sigh and the crunch of hay. _Abigale?_

Curled up in a fur on a hay pallet next to Fergus, Abigale slept. A soft gray muzzle was buried in her hair, as if the beast was protecting a prized possession. Long, black eyelashes rested on her cheeks that were pink from the cold-night air. Her lips quivered. God's blood, he was an arse.

As James got closer, Fergus stirred and pinned his ears back, warning James to proceed with caution. "Easy, lad." James whisper. "I will no' hurt her." He held out his hand, and Fergus nipped at it. James took a step back. Fergus stood so as to not wake Abigale and pinned his ears again. James held his hands up in surrender. "I know, I know, I've made a foul mess of things. Let me take her inside to get warm." This was a first, he thought, negotiating with a horse.

Fergus raised his head to intimidate James, then neighed. James reached down, never losing eye contact with the stallion, and grabbed a hand full of hay. He offered it to Fergus. "See lad, I'm not so bad, am I?" The protective warhorse paused. With caution, he lowered his head and blew out a puff of air from his nostrils. With his neck stretched out, he investigated the peace offering by moving the hay around with his nose. James took his other hand and stroked Fergus's pure-white forehead. "Peace?"

Finally, after three handfuls of hay and a promised carrot or two, Fergus deemed James as a friend for now, and allowed passage to Abigale. He went down on bended knee beside her. Gently, he took her in his arms, and Abigale snuggled deep into his warmth. She felt perfect against his chest, almost like she was made for him. He thought himself a hundred times a fool for intimidating her. The oath he had taken was to protect her and aye, he could do that, but could he protect her from himself?

James entered his bedchamber and laid Abigale on the bed.

"James?" Abigale said, half asleep.

"Shhh, my _bel ange._ Rest." He placed his hand on her forehead as his magic washed over her, sending her into a restful sleep. He tucked the blankets snugly around her body and kissed her forehead. Before he left the room, he placed more peat on the fire.

The lass had to go.

The next morn, before the sun rose, James and his men left on a long hunting jaunt. He needed to clear his thoughts, take in some cool Highland air, bond with his Dragonkine brethren while hunting red deer and boar. He needed to refocus on recruiting neighboring clans to join Clan Douglas and fight for the king. This was not an easy task, for Scotland was unstable and fragmented. Kinsmen fought kinsmen over who they thought should be the rightful king. Side with the wrong clan, and truces would be broken between long-time friends. James had seen clans wiped out for joining forces with accused traitors.

Even though King Robert took him off the battlefield to protect his daughter, it didn't mean he couldn't aid in the king's rebellion against England. He would always do what he had to do to rid Scotland of the English. Furthermore, there was always a battle to be fought and he would be prepared when the time came.

James led the way north toward the Great Glen. Mounted on his black mare, James looked very much the natural-born leader he was. The horse was massive, unusual for a female warhorse, but she was just as dominant as James. James and Conall took the dirt path deeper into the glen, while Rory and Magnus followed the trail to the loch. A flawless strategy was set in motion to draw out the prey, surround it, and move in for the kill.

James sensed that Conall needed to get something off his chest. They walked their fine steeds at a steady pace along the forest path, keeping alert, searching the thick vegetation for signs of deer.

"Abigale seems to be a fine lass," Conall said.

James adjusted himself in the saddle. "Aye. Alice is verra fond of her."

"Ye know, James, it might not be all that bad to have a wife warming yer bed every night." Conall dared a glance at James, arched a black brow, and grinned.

"Ye can stop right there. I know what ye are doing. I took a vow to protect King Robert's daughter and that I intend to do, for he has been nothing less than a father to me. I owe him for helping me get my lands back. I didnae ask for her to be my wife, nor do I want her." For Christ sake, was he ever going to escape the lass?

Halting their horses, Conall tried to reason with James. "But ye have a wife, a verra beautiful one."

James shot him a stern look, warning his friend to tread softly. "Did ye forget? We are Dragonkine, Conall! How do I explain this to her?" James pointed to his eyes as they turned to reptilian slits.

"Och—"

"Nay, I'm sending her to Bothwell Castle and that's final!" James kicked his horse forward, ending their conversation.

The more Conall brought up Abigale, the more aggravated James became. After he'd left his bedchamber last night, he pondered ways to solve his problem. Sending Abigale to Bothwell was the best plan. They could still go on as husband and wife but would live separate lives. She would be close enough to protect, yet far away from him. 'Twas a plan he was sure Abigale would favor, for she would be able to keep part of her dowry and he could keep his honor with the king.

He was letting her go. The realization hit his heart like the muscle was being squeezed by a steel-plated gauntlet. He felt the coldness of the steel bite deeper into his lifeline. James rubbed his chest as he felt his dragon mourn their loss.

"James, listen to me."

James shook off his thoughts. It was apparent he had to listen to Conall because his best friend wasn't taking no for an answer. God's teeth, he could be a persistent nag.

"Think of it like this...like a battle. Ye fight for what's right. 'Tis a long hard battle, ye dinnae like it, but ye know at the end there will be peace. A woman is no different. Ye fight for her love, ye dinnae like the feelings she brings out of ye at first. But my friend, if she's the one, trust me when I tell ye to let go and ye'll find there's nothing like a woman's love to soothe yer dragon side."

James thought for a moment. Had his friend gone daft? How could a ruthless, bloodthirsty dragon feel peace? Nonetheless, how can ye bring peace when ye're no at ease with yerself?

"Conall, are ye daft? Did ye leave yer ballocks back home?"

It looked as if a huge boulder crashed down on Conall. "Rest assured, my laird, my balls are fine. I thank ye for yer concern." Conall nodded and rode toward the sandy trail leading to the loch.

James let out a heavy sigh and continued through the glen, finally alone. Hellfire, his blood burned with irritation. His best friend talking about love and women...he had to have been bewitched. Conall Hamilton hadn't fallen under a lass's spell—had he? "Nay."

The squawk of a flock of blackbirds fleeing from a thicket on top of a hill caught James's attention. He watched the birds as they scattered. There was no time to move as James saw an arrow fly through the air from the thicket and plunge into his heart with precise aim.

A wise man once said that patience was not a virtue, but a vice. A wicked moral, testing the true heart of a man. When fortitude was tested, it separated the weak from the strong and the faithful from the faithless. The man cloaked in black knew this all to be true; he lived it every day. Now as fate would have it, he would seek out what was rightfully his and gain its benefits. Not only did he have to possess patience, but he had to know when to strike and to push a little harder to achieve his goals. Perched high on top the hilltop hidden behind a thicket of dense blackthorns, he waited for his glory. If fate would allow, the Gods would bless him this day.

He reached behind him and pulled a long shaft from the leather quiver on his back. Memories of battle filled his mind. On the battlefield, James had been on bended knee as the King of Scotland knighted him, a banner was given in his honor, and the king's daughter as a reward. It should have been him on bended knee being honored, not James. He should be the one with a banner to his name, with men aplenty behind him. His blood had been shed on the battlefield just like James. Shouldn't he reap the benefits of land and a pretty princess to warm his bed? All his life, he had been second to James, but not today. He would outwit the clan's chief, uproot the house of Douglas, and become a legend: the man who slayed the Bogeyman.

Dull, green leaves littered the blackthorn bushes on the hill. The blackberries tempted him and he picked one. He studied it for a moment before placing it on his tongue. A bitter taste shot through his mouth, reminding him winter was on its way. _After first freeze, the berries would taste much sweeter_.

He spat out the remainder of the sour berry, then walked over to the spot that would give him the best vantage point. Looking down upon the trail, he knew it wouldn't be long; his target would approach soon. He felt in his bones that his time was now. He grabbed his longbow that was resting by an autumn-stricken tree and paused for a moment. As he looked at the misshapen, black skeleton of a blackthorn tree, he found they had similarities. He'd become as twisted as its branches.

To him, a traitor was nothing more than an actor upon the stage, only revealing what seemed fit at the moment. A master of lies and deception, he had played his part well. Just like patience, betrayal had become second nature. He wore a coat of many colors, but his purpose stayed true. Friend or foe, he did not care. He waited to make his move, showing no mercy to the fools who stood in his way.

Much more than retaliation for his misfortunes was on the line. He fought for someone more precious to him than the air he breathed. An innocent victim handpicked and strategically placed on the game board to be played by someone else for their gains. Nay, there was no turning back.

Feet planted true and firm like the excellent archer he was, he raised his bow and notched the shaft. He surveyed the trail once more as he drew back the poisoned arrow. The feathers on the shaft lightly brushed his jawline, reminding him of how sweet Abigale's kisses would be and how sweet victory would taste. _Soon, my pet, verra soon_.

All thoughts pushed aside, he took aim and released the string, sending the arrow straight to his target. James's heart.

# 9

_Were it not for hope, the heart would break. ~ Scottish Proverb_

* * *

A powerful force knocked James from his horse. He landed firmly on his back on the forest floor. Air rushed out of his lungs. He grabbed the arrow that had been plunged deep into his chest. Blood rushed over his hands and arms.

The smell of dirt and blood invaded his senses. He arched in pain, but there was no escaping the blazing heat burning through his veins like fire. Confusion hit him hard. One arrow shouldn't cause this much pain; after all, he was immortal. Even after a fatal blow he could fight off death and regain his strength but this was different. This was sheer agony. Blood seeped from his wound. A mere grunt was all James had left in him as he tried to yell for help.

Darkness was closing in. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, a vision of Abigale floating in the loch flashed before him. Long auburn hair splayed out around her flawless face, a thin wet shift clung to every curve as the water licked at her delectable body. James remembered how he itched to touch her, to taste her sweetness. Her body beckoned to be touched. Now it was too late...too late to tell her what a fool he had been...too late to claim her.

Abigale was up and ready for the day. She had planned to keep herself busy and rid herself of all thoughts of a certain Highlander. First thing this morn, she had helped in the kitchen, preparing the vegetables for the night's feast and staying clear of anything that involved fire. By midday, she had crushed some lavender into a mixture to bathe the smelly dogs. If the hounds from hell were going to be regular visitors in her bedchamber, they had to be bathed, for they smelled like a dung heap. As she crumpled the lavender into a bowl, a little harder than needed, she vowed a few times to hate James Douglas for as long as she lived, especially after last night. It was a good thing he was nowhere in sight, because he would have received the sharp end of her tongue. "Barbarian," she thought out loud.

After the challenging experience of bathing Lennox and Mahboon, Abigale made her way into the solar where Alice and Effie sat by the hearth, working on their embroidery. Abigale plopped down in a chair with a huff.

Concern creased Alice's brows. "What be the worry, lassie?"

Effie spoke up before Abigale could respond, "Didn't yer night go well with Laird Douglas?"

"Effie!" Alice scolded.

"Nay Alice, 'tis alright," Abigale reassured her. It was obvious her friends had been worried about her. In fact, she hadn't said a word to them all day. "Nothing happened, I assure ye." She crossed her arms and blew out a hard breath. "Alice, I dinnae like to be made a fool. My chambermaid said ye'd had told her that the laird wanted me in his bedchamber. 'Tis no' true. Ye tricked me.

Alice's face saddened. "Och, I be so sorry. I was trying to help."

"I'm no' mad, Alice. At least no' at ye."

"What happened?" Alice asked.

"James had too much mead and passed out." Purposely, she'd left out the small, yet mortifying detail of how foolish she'd felt having to sleep out in the horse stall with Fergus. No need to mark herself a total fool.

Alice snorted and held back a laugh.

"Alice, dinnae laugh, Abigale is devastated." Effie jumped out of her chair, rushed over to her mistress, and embraced her with a sympathetic hug.

"Effie, I appreciate yer concern, but I'm more angry than devastated. When we first met, he told me he didnae want me as a wife. I guess...I mean...I just thought maybe he would change his mind." Abigale shrugged and plucked at the hem of her apron. Looking up sheepishly, she revealed, "I spent the night in the stables with Fergus."

All of a sudden, the women broke out in laughter. Abigale joined in, for she had to laugh. Frankly, she was too flustered by James's behavior to break down and cry. How could James be jealous of another man when he had no feelings for her? Why should he care whom she danced with or chose to talk to? It didn't make sense to her.

Alice set her embroidery down and shook her head. "Highlanders. They're so damn stubborn." She turned to face Abigale. "Dear Lady Abigale, he's trying to push ye away because he likes ye and he does no' like how it is making him feel."

"Oh Alice, I do wish it to be true, but he has made it clear where I stand."

"Nonsense, lass, ye are a beautiful woman. A princess of Scotland. He should be so lucky to be wanted by ye."

Abigale huffed and blew a strand of hair from her eyes. James brought out her curiosity, that was certain. She wanted to know how it would feel to be loved by a beautiful, intimidating Highlander. After seeing him naked, she wanted to kiss him and explore every muscled inch of his body, but most of all, she yearned to be loved or at least desired by this man.

Mayhap these feeling were stirred by her insecurities as a result of her father abandoning her at the abbey. Was she that desperate for a man's love?

Alice held Abigale's hands and sincerely looked into her eyes. "Sometimes a man needs a little push in order to see what he really wants and frankly, I've seen it in his eyes. He likes ye, lass. Laird Douglas might no' show it but he does."

"So, what am I to do then? That man is driving me daft."

"Ye seduce him." Effie casually said as if she had done this type of thing before.

Abigale's eyes grew wide with shock. "Seduce him?"

Effie stood up from her chair, unlaced the front of her dress just enough so her breasts teased. She uncoiled her red hair from its bun and flicked it free. "This is how it's done." Effie sauntered seductively over to Abigale.

Abigale could feel her cheeks blush in embarrassment. What was Effie up to?

The redhead placed a hand on the back of Abigale's chair and leaned forward until the tops of her breasts bulged from her dress. With her free hand, she playfully rubbed her neck and trailed her fingertips down toward her chest. "My laird, do ye see anything ye like?" she purred.

Abigale's cheeks blushed. She playfully pushed Effie away and started to giggle.

"Effie!" Alice reprimanded.

"What?" Effie stood and shrugged. "If she wants to get the laird's attention, she must have some tricks up her sleeve."

Abigale tried to stop laughing. She could see why the men took a liking to Effie. Unlike herself, Effie was confident, beautiful, and bold. If only she could be. Finally, she caught her breath. "I'm afraid, lassies, no matter how much I show my bits, the laird does no' desire me."

Alice picked up her needlework and tugged a needle through the fabric with a sly grin. "Rubbish," she harrumphed. "The laird watches ye like he wants to tear yer dress off yer body. Dinnae worry about a thing."

Abigale's mood started to lighten. It felt good to talk freely with Alice and Effie. This must be how it felt to have a sister—someone to jest with, someone to confide in, someone to love unconditionally. The sisters at the abbey were friendly but this was different. Without judgment or punishment, she could be herself.

Thunderous footsteps and loud voices rang throughout the great hall in panic, sending the women to their feet. They rushed to the hall to see what the ruckus was about. What she saw scared her more than being captured by the English. Conall held a bloody, lifeless body in his arms. With haste, she hurried over to Conall. "Blessed Mary!" Abigale's hand flew over her mouth in horror. "James?"

Conall pushed past Abigale. "Alice, fetch the healer," he roared. "He's been shot with an arrow in the chest."

"Wait, I can help," Abigale pleaded.

"We dinnae have time to spare, my lady. Our chief needs the healer."

Blood poured continuously from his chest and splattered on to the stone floor. Abigale's instincts took over.

"Conall, take James to his bedchamber and Alice, bring me blankets, lots of them. Effie boil some water." Abigale began to make her way to the stairs, but when she looked back, Conall still stood looking confused. "Conall Hamilton, if ye dinnae move yer arse, I'll see it hung!"

Taken aback by her sternness, Conall shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

James's bloodied body lay on the bed. Abigale started to rip his tunic off and examine the extent of his wounds. "How did this happen?"

"My lady, we were out hunting...we split up...and..."Conall rubbed his hand through his hair and started to pace a trench in the floor beside the bed. "He was shot with an arrow. I had to snap the shaft off at his chest.

In her experience mending wounds, she had never seen a man survive with this much blood loss. "We need to stop the bleeding."

Alice came bolting through the door with arms full of blankets. Abigale grabbed a small cloth and blotted the blood away from the wound. If only she could stop the bleeding long enough, she might be able to find the arrowhead.

Lifting the blood-soaked cloth, she saw an inch of the shaft poking through his flesh. "Alice, go into the top drawer of my nightstand. There's a satchel... in that satchel ye'll find a reddish-purple flower... I need it worked into a paste with boiling hot water. Can ye do that for me?"

"Aye, my lady." Before Abigale could finish her request, Alice had already rushed out of the chamber with the purple flower in her hand.

"James." Abigale touched his face and he moaned in pain. "I have to remove the arrow. Bite down on this." Abigale placed a rolled-up cloth in James's mouth and motioned for Conall to assist her.

"Rory, Marcus, hold his body down. Magnus, give me yer whiskey." Abigale took the whiskey and poured it over the wound, which caused James to arch in tremendous pain. "Sorry." Abigale winced.

As the whiskey washed away the pooling blood, Abigale had a good view of the wooden shaft. Thank God, the head had not punctured his heart. Gently, she pulled on the shaft, testing how deep its barbs had set in. "The head is stuck." Abigale turned to the men. "Do ye have an arrow spoon...an arrow puller?"

The men looked at her like she had gone daft. Arrow spoon?

Abigale took that as a nay. Continuing to blot away the blood, she noticed more of the arrowhead was showing than before. _Unbelievable_. She paused and observed James's wound closer. ' _Tis like his body is pushing the arrow out from his chest._

Gently, Abigale wrapped her hand around the arrowhead and maneuvered it out of his chest, causing James to jerk with such force that his arm slipped free and threatened to hit Abigale. Rory strained to gain control again. "Sorry...my lady," he grunted. "'Tis like trying to hold down a hogget during a shearing."

As the blood rushed over her hands, Abigale didn't have much time to think. She needed to seal up her husband's wound, but which plan of action should she take? If she used a hot poker, the pain alone could kill him, or she could place her faith in healing herbs. One wrong move and she could become a widow.

Alice rushed in with a wooden bowl. "My lady." She offered the paste to Abigale. The healing herbs would have to work, for she didn't know how much more pain her husband could endure. Quickly, she began to smear the purple concoction around and inside the wound. "This will help stop the bleeding and dull his pain. We are going to need to lift him. I need to wrap a pressure bandage around his chest," Abigale instructed.

Abigale kept the rags snug against the wound while the men lifted James to a sitting position. James's head fell back and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sweet Jesus, it was going to take a miracle to save this man.

"Effie, hold pressure here." Abigale took Effie's hands and placed them firmly on the wound. "Alice, help me wrap his chest."

After they wrapped the laird's chest, they laid him back down on the bed. Abigale stood over James. He was pale and his breathing was slow but steady. Sending a prayer up to heaven, she prayed that her healing skills would help her husband and bring him back to her. She couldn't lose him, not now...not ever.

Abigale's nerves lay bare. Raw emotions threatened to take over. She must not fall apart now. _Abigale Bruce, ye must calm down_. Taking a deep breath, she walked over and grabbed the washbasin. Trying desperately to keep calm, she began to wash the bloodstains from his body. If the blood loss didn't kill him, the fever would.

As Abigale peered up from wiping a smear of blood from James's forearm, she saw his kinsmen standing around the bed, grief-stricken, as they looked upon their fallen chief. These men had so much respect for their ruthless leader. If she knew anything, she would have bet that anyone of them would have traded places with him and taken the blow of that blasted arrow.

Alice placed a hand on Abigale's shoulder and reached for the washrags. "Let me. Ye should get some rest." She nodded in James's direction. "He's in God's hands now."

"Nay!" Abigale shook her head and snatched the rag away from Alice. "I will no' leave his side."

She didn't mean to be so rude, but the thought of leaving James made her heart stop beating. What if he awoke and she wasn't there? What if he was in pain or what if he started to bleed again? No, she had to be right here by his side.

Magnus cleared his throat. "My lady." He wiped a tear from his cheek. "Is there anything else we can do?"

"Aye." Abigale choked out a faint whisper. "Go to the chapel and pray."

As the last man quit the room, Abigale rubbed her face against James's hand. "James Douglas, this is no time for ye to be stubborn." She sniffed and fought back tears. "Come back to me." Her vision clouded, her hands began to tremble, and the air thickened, making it difficult for her to breathe. She needed to be close to him, to feel him breathe. Without disturbing him, she climbed into bed, and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Death wasn't an option, he had to live.

# 10

_A debt is owed, the price: his soul._

* * *

The sun shone through the trees, casting an amber hue throughout the glen. "James," a beautiful voice whispered, luring him deeper into the forest. He saw a woman wearing a sheer dress run behind a tree. He couldn't see her face, but her voice washed over him like ray of sunshine.

"James." There it was again. He ran after her but once he reached the tree, she disappeared.

_Where was the voice coming from?_

"Come back to me." Her whispered words sent a shiver down his back. He knew that voice. He turned around and couldn't believe his eyes.

"Abigale?"

Abigale stood in front of him. The wind whipped through her long auburn hair. Her sweet scent drifted over him. He reached out to touch her. She was so close, yet too far away. "Abigale," James whispered.

She stepped into his embrace. He held her tight, feeling every lush curve of her body. Running his hands through her hair, he confirmed that she was really there. Well, at least she felt real, but this had to be a dream. "What are ye doing here, lass?"

Abigale gently stroked his face. "Come back to me, James. I need ye."

Aye, this was a sweet dream.

All of a sudden, the forest grew dead silent and darkness closed in around them. Panic-stricken, James grabbed Abigale's arms a little too firmly. "Abigale, ye must leave. He's coming for me."

"Nay, come with me, _please_ ," she begged.

Off in the distance, James heard a hollow clanking sound echoing through the glen that seemed to grow closer and approached fast. He looked behind him to see where the noise was coming from. The forest trees moved closer together. Branches touched, creating a tunnel, and the dirt trail narrowed.

James knew who had tracked him down. This was the reason he didn't sleep at night, for the bloody bastard haunted his every dream. A cruel, twisted game the menace craved to play. He toyed with James's mind night after night with visions of his father's bloody body being tortured, all the while laughing vilely at James's fear.

The soul collector knew no boundaries; he collected at will. James had to get Abigale out of his Hell...now! The bloody bastard could have his damned soul, but not Abigale's. She was everything good and pure in his world, the light to his darkness.

James turned back to warn his wife to run, but much to his surprise, she was already gone, leaving a trail of light behind. He desperately wanted to follow her light. If only he believed in Heaven, she would be his _bel ange._

The air around James cooled. An icy chill slid down his spine and settled in his bones. He peered down the darkened tunnel waiting for the soul collector. The ground shook and the smell of sulfur assaulted his nose. "The essence of Hell."

The air rippled like a stone thrown in water as the malice rode toward James in a horse-drawn death coach. Black skulls and bones covered the coach and the spokes on the wheels were the leg bones of some unlucky bastards.

The coachmen leaned forward with a sinister smile, pushing the horses to charge faster with the crack of his whip. Their eyes glowed red with hatred and they were foaming at the mouth.

James dove out of the way as a black cloaked, faceless coachman halted the raging team. Silver chains connecting the rig to the horses rattled a sinister song as it drew to a complete stop.

James jumped to his feet in battle stance, ready for a fight. The coach door slowly opened. A black, chainmail glove appeared from the open door, motioning with a thick finger for James to come join him.

_This was it_ , James thought. The collector had finally caught up to him. He had been running from this moment all his life. The moment of truth, payment for the sins he'd committed. The slain would be avenged and wrongs righted. His soul was the price.

Tired of avoiding his destiny, he began to walk over to the death coach, ready to embrace the darkness. When a blast of golden light flashed over the glen, it knocked James to the ground.

He looked up and saw the horses rearing up, then take off down the tunnel. It was as if the light had chased the collector away.

# 11

_He who wants to be a dragon must eat many little snakes. ~ Chinese Proverb_

* * *

"You fool!" Sheriff Rickert raised his leather whip and released its fury upon the man's bloodied back. His sharp tone filled the damp dungeon. He grabbed the fool's chin, "You were supposed to bring me the Black Douglas. Alive!" he hissed and shoved the man's head back.

Rickert had been a patient man. However, as of late, his patience had been strained. Seven years was a long time for a man to live with a near-destroyed reputation without revenge. He'd been made a fool the day James Douglas came back to Scotland to reclaim his lands. With their chief dead, the clan had been weakened, which left Castle Douglas defenseless. An easy target, Sheriff Rickert and his army seized the castle.

Oh, but fate could be a bloody bastard. James's counter-attack left Rickert retreating deep into the forest, running like a scared child to his mother. _Coward,_ he thought. Flashes of that terrifying night flickered through the sheriff's memory as he recalled the stench of burning flesh and deafening screams. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have believed the devil himself had showed up to fight that day. He barely escaped alive. A shiver snaked down his spine; he had seen the vile beast.

"You've failed me. You do know the punishment, don't you?"

The man stood silent as another crack sliced into his back.

"Must I remind you, fool, I have something very valuable and precious to you." Rickert stroked his goatee. "Your dear sister is at court, unwed and under my protection."

Sheriff Rickert had held the man's sister in the royal court as a hostage of sorts. He promised no harm would come to her if he obeyed his every request. A request to bring him the Black Douglas.

Rickert fondled the leather strip. "Mayhap I should inform King Edward that it's past time for her to wed," he threatened.

The man twisted around and met Rickert's stare.

Leaning close, the sheriff said, "I wonder what a young, Scottish piece of arse would feel like." The sheriff's cutting words dared the man to lose control.

Giving the sheriff no satisfaction, the man only fisted his hands.

Rickert enjoyed inflicting pain in more than the physical sense. Manipulation and blackmail were games he played well. Once he had his eyes on a prize, there was no turning back. No longer could he abide walking among the crowds and being heckled about being defeated by a Scottish lad. A Highlander at that. It had cost him his favor with the king, who now considered him a failure.

James Douglas needed to be destroyed. Now his plan had been put into motion, and James Douglas wouldn't know what hit him.

The beaten man lowered his head. His body shook from the last crack of the whip, or mayhap it was the rage he fought to keep from surfacing. He had to tell the sheriff about his little secret, it was the only way he could keep his sister safe. His beautiful, innocent sister was caught up in a dangerous game. He'd failed to protect her. Once the sheriff had her at court, he had to go along with Rickert's plan. If he ever wanted to see his sister again, he must bring him the dragon.

Soon it would be over. Sometimes you had to shame your soul in order to help destiny along.

The man squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. "I can bring ye the one thing that will destroy the Black Douglas," he muttered.

This new-found information pricked Rickert's interest. "Do tell."

The man slowly raised his head. "I can bring ye Abigale Bruce, James's wife, the princess of Scotland."

Rickert mused. "Capture the princess, slay the dragon."

# 12

_Sometimes life can be as bitter as dragon tears. ~ Chinese Proverb_

* * *

A week had passed and James still lay motionless. Caring for her husband nonstop started to take a toll of Abigale. She'd had little sleep and food and refused to leave him. Abigale sat by the foot of the bed, diligently working on some embroidery. If James didn't wake soon, before long, the castle walls would be covered in tapestries. A knock at the door made Abigale jump. She wasn't expecting visitors.

The door creaked open as Marcus peeked in. "Lady Abigale, may I?"

She nodded.

Marcus went to James's bedside. "How is he?"

"The bleeding has stopped, but he still sleeps." Abigale stood and placed her needlework on the chair. She felt James's forehead. "He's still feverish." His fever should have broken by now

"My lady, forgive me for being blunt, but maybe the time has come."

"Nay Marcus, we still have time." Abigale straightened the covers over James's body.

Marcus walked over to the head of the bed. "Ye've done everything possible to save him. We can't let him suffer."

Abigale grew irate. How dare he come to her with such a request? She was going to save James and nothing or nobody was going to stop her. She needed her husband to live.

She marched over to Marcus and poked a finger at his chest. "Suffer? Do ye think I would let him suffer?"

Marcus stayed silent.

"I'll spend every last breath making sure my husband lives. His clan needs him!"

He pinned her with a glare. "And what about ye, Lady Abigale? Ye need him, too."

Through a deep sob, Abigale held on tight to Marcus's shoulder. "What if Marcus, what if..." She couldn't say the words. Who would take James's place if he died? What would happen to her?

Marcus held her tight. "I'm sorry, I dinnae mean to upset ye. James is a warrior. I have seen him wounded before and he's too stubborn to die."

Before she could apologize for breaking down, Marcus cupped her face, wiping away her tears.

Abigale began to feel uncomfortable. Marcus held her too close and too long for comfort. Abigale stepped out of his embrace.

Clearing his throat, Marcus asked, "When was the last time ye ate? I'll bring ye some of Alice's famous oatcakes."

"That would be very kind of ye."

Marcus headed for the door.

Abigale had other things on her mind, but she could not forget the hungry look in Marcus's blue eyes. And though he was handsome and intelligent, she belonged to James. A man cannot take what has already been claimed.

Abigale shook herself free of those thoughts. Perhaps she was misjudging him or too tired to think clearly. After all, James was his cousin and Marcus was in need of support and comfort, too.

"Marcus," Abigale called out.

He turned to face her. "Lady Abigale."

"Thank ye."

Marcus smiled and walked out of the bedchamber.

Abigale went to James's bedside. She ran her fingers through his hair, bent down, and touched her forehead to his. "Come back to me," she whispered.

James blinked away the spinning room as it slowly came into focus. He heard soft breathing and lifted his head up slowly. There she was, one arm tucked under her head, asleep. Trying to determine whether he was dreaming or not, he rubbed his thumb over her delicate hand that held onto his. Her hand felt soft and warm. This was a good sign.

He then took his wife's braid. As he fingered the silky strands, relief rippled through him. Laying his head back down, he closed his eyes. He wasn't dreaming this time. His _bel ange_ was there and safe.

The dream had been too real. He was ready to succumb to the darkness, yet someone had stopped him. The light, aye the warm, bright light had chased away the collector. His soul was saved for now. Another question burned him. Why had Abigale been there in his dream?

James looked back down at her. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "God's bones!" She was a beauty.

Sleepy eyes blinked open. "James, ye're awake."

"Aye." James coughed through the dryness in his throat.

"Do ye remember what happened?"

Groaning in pain, James leaned forward. There was a tightness in his chest and nausea rolled through his gut. What the hell had happened to him?

"Easy." Abigale warned as she propped pillows behind his back to make him more comfortable. "Ye were shot with an arrow two days ago while hunting. 'Twas an accident."

"Two weeks?"

"Aye."

"An accident...while I was hunting?" James's dark brows creased. This information didn't set well with him. He looked down at the blood-stained bandages. _Two weeks?_ He should have healed by now. His sleep magic should have healed him quickly. Never before had he come this close to death. The whole thing didn't make sense. He was immortal. One blow from an arrow was like getting a splinter under your skin.

He'd remembered the burn of something flowing through his veins and even now he was in a tremendous amount of pain. _Poison?_ Aye, he had to have been poisoned.

"If the arrow was an inch deeper, it would have reached yer heart."

James took Abigale's hand in his. "Ye're a healer?"

Abigale shrugged. "I've performed surgeries."

"A surgeon?" This puzzled him. Usually women were discouraged and not allowed to practice intricate surgeries.

Abigale reached over to feel his head for fever and was stopped quickly. James grabbed her slender wrist as if he was done with her fussing over him. "How did ye become a surgeon?"

Pulling her arm away, she said, "I've spent a lot of time studying the four humors of the body from the monks at the abbey. Fortunately for ye, I'm one of the best surgeons the abbey had." She smiled.

James knew that she'd lived at Dunfermline Abbey, but for how long? He'd never really asked about her past. This saddened him. For some strange reason he wanted to know everything about her. He could have died not knowing the woman who'd saved his life.

Abigale swallowed hard. "James, I...couldn't help but notice when I was removing the—"

At that very moment, Marcus stepped into the room, interrupting their conversation. He carried a plate of oatcakes, and Alice trailed close behind.

"My laird, ye're awake! Oh, tis a glorious day!" Alice beamed and rushed over to James's bedside. "Lady Abigale brought ye back to us." Alice glanced at Abigale as they shared a smile.

At that moment, the rest of his kinsmen stormed the bedchamber. Good news certainly did spread fast. Rory's smile reached ear to ear as he looked at his chief. "Lucky bastard."

James returned his grin. "Aye."

He hated the fact that he and Abigale had been interrupted. He wasn't done speaking with her. Furthermore, he needed to hold her, to feel her warmth. He studied her for a while. She looked exhausted. Had she been with him the entire time?

As his men fussed over him, James kept his eyes on Abigale. Alice hugged her and bragged over her healing abilities. His kinsmen, one by one, took their turn thanking her as well.

Once his kinsmen dispersed, Abigale started for the door. "Where are ye going?"

She turned around. "I was going to look for a place to rest for a while. I'll be back soon."

"Nay lass, this is yer bedchamber. Ye'll sleep here."

"Are ye sure? I can find another room." Abigale worked her hands nervously into her apron.

Grinning, James pulled back the covers, offering her a warm place to snuggle. "My lady."

Deep blue eyes stared back at him. Abigale untied her bloodstained apron and slowly unlaced the front of her dress. Intently watching as she crawled onto the bed, James motioned for her to come closer. Dropping his view to her chest, he could see straight down her under dress. Her perfect breasts begged for his touch. By the saints, this lass was going to be the death of him. The shadows under her eyes told him how exhausted she was. Damn him for thinking with his cock; she needed sleep.

Abigale laid her soft body next to his. Her warmth pulled him in and held him captive. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until their bodies molded together. This tantalizing feeling was the same he'd felt back in his dream. It was like he was basking in the sun, soaking up its rays without a care in the world. Is this what Conall meant? A woman's love bringing peace? Love...well maybe he shouldn't go that far, but this sensation was like paradise.

He knew he was probably being selfish by wanting her next to him instead of letting her sleep. Truth be told, when Abigale was around, she chased his demons away. There was no doubt that she was the one who had chased the soul collector away. She was the light to his darkness. James closed his eyes and kissed the top of Abigale's head. "Sweet dreams my _bel ange._ "

Knowing where his demon hid, he would take these moments, cherish them, and commit them to memory. It wouldn't work out between them. How could it? She was human and he was Dragonkine. As soon as she found out the truth, she would be gone. No man with his amount of uncontrollable vengeance could possibly be honorable enough to deserve a happy life. The English had taken so much from him that he feared, no matter how much blood was shed, it would never be enough. Even if she could forgive his evil ways, he was still a dragon.

A young Dragonkine that needed the thrill of battle in order to quench his dragon's lust for blood. Joining the king's rebellion allowed him to tame the beast.

His enemies were out there and he knew it. Welcomed it. This was why he vowed to never take a wife. Just the thought of something happening to Abigale in retaliation for his wrong-doings stirred a sinister feeling deep inside him. Which led him to believe this was no accident. Nay, the arrow being this close to his heart was no accident at all; he'd been a target.

Unease settled in his bones. Someone had tried to kill him, but who had taken the shot? Undoubtedly, the attacker had to have known he was Dragonkine, for he used a poison arrow. No mortal arrow could kill a dragon. Furthermore, the marksman was quite skilled with a bow.

James clung to Abigale. Could there be a weed in the garden that needed to be pulled? A kinsman betraying not only their clan, but the whole of the Dragonkine Guard? James ground his teeth together as he thought about one of his brethren turning on him. He needed to talk with Magnus soon.

# 13

_If you can't take the heat, don't tickle the dragon. ~ Anonymous_

* * *

"Och, lass." James sucked in a breath. "Touch me like that again and I'll have ye on yer back quicker than I can draw my sword." He arched a brow. Even though he didn't want a wife, he still very much desired the lass.

The last two days had proven to him that he indeed liked Abigale's company, and it didn't help that his dragon was relentless with need as well. He made himself known by stirring inside James's body, insisting to be around Abigale.

"Ye mean like this." Abigale blushed as she skimmed her fingers across his ribs, teasing him as she unwrapped his bandages.

James squirmed in reaction. "Aye, _bel ange. "_ If only his men could see him now, chuckling like a wee lad, they would tease him relentlessly. Truth be told, he craved her touch a little more than he had the right to.

"My father speaks French, though I never learned. It's a beautiful language." She smiled. "He would call me his bel Abigale when he would visit me at the nunnery. I cherished his visits, especially not knowing when he would come again."

James noticed how Abigale's mood seemed to sadden when she talked about her father. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could stare into her blue eyes. _Pas aussi belle que vous_. James smiled. _Indeed, not as beautiful as ye_. "My father sent me, my younger brother, and mother to live in Paris when I was nine years old. He wanted our family safe and far away from the English. Bloody Sassenach made my father surrender Castle Douglas."

"What happened to yer father?"

"He was left to rot in the Tower of London. They called it a traitor's death." Hatred lingered in his every word.

"I'm so sorry, James."

"Aye, me too." He changed the subject quickly, for bringing up that part of his past was no good. He already felt his dragon growling. "I can assure ye, Abigale, if yer da could have, he would have come to see ye more."

"It does no' matter anymore. He had the chance to make it up to me and well—"

"He married ye off to the Bogeyman." James saw it in her eyes; she, too, did not want this marriage.

"I dinnae mean it that way. I'm happy here." She looked up and smiled. Abigale unwrapped the last bandage. "Hmmm." Her brows furrowed as she felt around the wound, examining it.

"What?"

"James, yer wound is healed," Abigale informed him.

He'd forgotten about his healing abilities. No wonder she looked confused. "Well, that's because I had an excellent nurse."

"But, the severity of yer wound—"

"Abigale, ye healed me." His tone was firm.

Knowing better than to push him, Abigale changed the subject. "What was Paris like?"

Bloody hell, what were all the questions? Details of his life in Paris were difficult to explain and now wasn't the time. He wouldn't know where to begin, for he'd gone through hell. His mother had died a few months after arriving. Some said it was the black plague that took her, but James knew differently. She'd died of a broken heart. Elizabeth loved his father so much that she couldn't live without him. Knowing that her husband was most likely dead or imprisoned, she had fallen into a deep depression and died.

After his mother's death, he and his brother were left to fend for themselves. Poor and with nowhere to go, they lived in the back alleys of Paris, barely surviving. Up until that point, James had been strong and took care of wee Archie, always making sure he ate his fill first, while James went without most nights. But fate played a cruel hand when James became sick and his wee brother had to take care of him. James fought a burning fever, agonizing body aches, and violent vomiting. It had been two miserable weeks and he was weak and scared. He was certain the plague was taking his life. What he had suffered from was no sickness; he'd gone through his transformation to Dragonkine.

This part of his life was off limits, sealed up tight, never to be opened.

James felt a warm hand covering his arm and saw Abigale leaning toward him. "Ye dinnae have to tell me, James. I understand. The past is the past."

Indeed, he did want to tell her everything in the hope she would accept who he was but sheltering her from the truth was the best thing to do.

"Ye do have to tell me what _bel ange_ means."

James moved closer to the edge of the bed so Abigale was standing between his legs. He reached up and cupped her face, pulling her closer. James stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and rested his forehead against hers. She had the most beautiful eyes. "It means beautiful angel."

Pressing his lips to Abigale's, he kissed her gently at first until her mouth opened, reassuring him that she wanted his kisses. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth. Heat flooded through him and his cock hardened as she ran her hands up and down his shoulders to his neck. His dragon roared, vibrating his core. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until the softness of her breasts pressed against his bare chest, searing his flesh. James ran his hands down her back, pausing at her tiny waist. If he didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to.

He fisted her skirts, trying to contain the desire and douse the flames. He pulled away, ending their kiss. "Abigale, ye make me want things I can no' have."

Abigale whispered, "Whatever ye're going through, please let me help. Please let me in."

James closed his eyes and wished it was that easy. Lust couldn't win over logic. "I feel like I'm too close to the edge and about to—"

Abigale firmly grabbed his face between her hands. "Then jump. I'll catch ye."

James jaw tightened and he damned himself for a fool. Pulling her on top of him, he leaned back on the bed, bringing her with him. He grabbed her arse tight. Pure desire took over as he rolled her over on her back. He kissed her neck and pulled down her dress so he could feast his eyes on her beautiful breasts. He flicked his tongue over a pink nipple and sucked until it became hard. Abigale moaned in pleasure, encouraging her husband to keep up with his wicked assault on her body.

He'd never hungered for a woman like this before. Feeling like a greedy bastard, he was going to take what she offered, make love to her until she screamed his name. She was his wife, so bedding her was his right. Aye?

In a lust-crazed frenzy, James pulled up her skirts, all the while kissing her breasts. His hands finally reached her bare legs. Bare legs? The lass wore no stockings. He paused for a moment and cocked a brow at Abigale. "Yer stockings?"

Abigale unleashed an innocent smile and shrugged. "I was hot."

That smile, so pure yet devious, sent him further spiraling out of control. He slid his over her womanhood and... By the saints, he burned for her.

Abigale completely lost herself in James's wicked ways; he'd awakened a deep desire she never knew she had. His kisses burned her flesh and his touch lit a fire that heated her core. She thought she would go up in flames when she felt his hand on her sex.

Disbelief set in as she thought about pinching herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Except she couldn't will her hands away from exploring the expanse of his broad shoulders and the ridged peaks and valleys of his well-defined body. It was as if she was a prisoner under his control and she had no plan for escape.

A voice off in the distance broke her thoughts as she heard a young boy call out to Fergus.

"Fergus?" she said out loud.

James halted his assault on her neck and looked down at her. "Och, lass, that's not the name I wanted to hear from ye." He smirked. "I was thinking maybe James, or better yet, Laird Douglas of Angus, take me now, ye—"

"Shhh. I think I heard someone call out to Fergus." God, was she going daft? A beautiful man was about to make love to her and she was hearing voices? Nay, she could have sworn she heard her horse's name.

Ignoring the distraction, Abigale pushed her hands through James's hair, pulling him down into a mind-blowing kiss as she forgot about everything and focused on the moment at hand.

A voice louder than the last rang through her passion-filled fog. This time, she heard it clearly. She was not crazy. "Did ye hear it?" She tried to get up, but it was pointless. James wasn't letting her go.

"Nay." James kissed down her neck and continued driving her crazy like the outside world didn't exist.

Abigale heard the voice again. "James, please stop." At least that's what her mouth said but her body told him another story. "I need to see what's going on."

With a huff, James rolled over, letting Abigale escape. Adjusting her dress, Abigale slipped out of bed and went to the window overlooking the bailey. Still trying to gather her thoughts, she fumbled with the fur covering. Once she found the opening, she peeked out and couldn't believe her eyes. "Oh no!"

James shot up. Well, he'd given it his best effort, for his cock was hard as a rock and his body was aching for release. "What is it?" he growled.

"Fergus has run away from his stall and Neven is trying to catch him. I must go." Abigale began to search the chamber for her shoes. There was no time to waste, the lad was going to end up hurting himself. Fergus never allowed anyone but her to handle him.

She found her shoes. "I'm sorry, James, but if I dinnae go and calm Fergus down, he will injure Neven. I can no' let that happen."

James let out a frustrated huff. "I assure ye, Neven can handle Fergus. Now come back to bed, I'm no' done with ye, lass."

Abigale shot her husband a ye-can-no-be-serious look as she slipped on her other shoe.

"Och, I suppose ye're right," James said in defeat.

"I'll be right back." Abigale smiled at her husband as he melted back down into the bed.

James lay there for a moment as he processed everything that was happening. By all that was holy, that horse was spoiled and in desperate need of manners. He made note about discussing it with Abigale. Fergus was going to have to behave in order to stay in the stable.

_Shite._ He'd forgotten, before leaving for the hunting trip two days ago, he'd instructed the stable lad to prepare for Abigale's trip to her new home at Bothwell Castle. He'd planned to tell her as soon as he got back, but what he didn't plan on, was being shot with a poisonous arrow and his _bel ange_ saving his life. Now he wanted her to stay. But would she after everything that had happened between them?

James shot out of bed, panicked. "Abigale, wait!" Quickly, he fetched his tunic and adjusted his trews. He had to stop her before she reached Neven and Fergus. Stubbing his toe on his way out of the bedchamber, James stumbled down the corridor, cursing along the way. God, he hoped he would catch her in time.

Abigale entered the bailey and ran over to Neven just in time as Fergus reared up on his hind legs. "Are ye all right, lad?"

"Aye my lady, I am sorry to have disturbed ye."

"'Tis all right," she reassured the frightened lad. "Fergus is just scared. Everything will be fine."

Abigale approached Fergus. "Shh." She reached out and patted his nose, then his chest. "Easy, laddie, no one will hurt ye." Abigale calmed Fergus instantly. "What happened, Neven? Why is Fergus out of his stall?"

Neven looked down at his worn shoes and gripped his tunic tightly. "I'm only doing what Laird Douglas instructed."

"And just what has the laird instructed ye to do?"

The lad paused and swallowed hard.

"'Tis ok. Ye may speak freely." Abigale reassured him.

"My lady, I'm to ready yer horse for the trip to Bothwell."

"Bothwell?" Had she heard the lad right? Why would James want to send Fergus to Bothwell? It didn't make any sense.

"Aye," the lad answered.

"And why would he be going to Bothwell when his home is here with me?"

"My lady, I'm to ready yer horse and escort ye to Bothwell. We leave in the morn."

Unbelievable, James was sending her away? To Bothwell? Not wanting to frighten Neven more than he already was, she bent down and took the lad's trembling hands in hers. "I assure ye, I will be staying here. This is my home. Fergus should be fine now. Take him back to his stall and leave him be. I promise I'll have a talk with him about his attitude." She smiled.

Neven nodded and quickly began his task.

Abigale stood up with her hands on her hips and turned to find her husband barreling through the bailey toward her. He must have known he was too late, for he treaded softly as he approached. "Bothwell Castle?" she asked.

"Abigale, let me explain."

Abigale didn't know whether or not she wanted to hear his excuses. Nay... It had dawned on her that no matter what he said, she no longer cared. Hurt stabbed at her heart. He was going to send her away; how could he do this to her?

She pushed past him and started toward the keep; with each step her anger grew.

James followed a step behind, trying to get her attention, but she kept moving. "Abigale, listen to me."

Ignoring him, she reached the great hall doors. They entered like a windstorm.

"Damn it, would ye stop and listen to me!" James grabbed her arm and swung her around until she looked at him.

Blinding rage took over. If he thought she was going to listen, he was seriously mistaken. She ripped free and allowed raw emotions to wash over her. "Nay, James Douglas, heed my words and hear them well. I've been more than agreeable in accepting my fate being married to ye. I've lied to a priest. I practically threw myself at ye, hoping ye would desire me." She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I've given ye all that I have, but ye're as stubborn as a mule." She paused and took a deep breath. Gaining more courage, she squared her shoulders and continued. "I'm tired of yer stubbornness. If ye think ye're going to send me away to Bothwell, ye had better reconsider. I will no' go."

"Abigale, just let me—"

She looked up at the towering beast. "If ye do no' want to be around me than _ye_ leave. I'm staying here." With that, Abigale strode across the great hall and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.

James stood dumbfounded. Every word spoken was true. Abigale had showed him more love than he deserved. Though she'd been wrong about one thing; he did desire her. From the moment he met her at the loch he knew he loved her. The problem was, she sent him spinning out of control, and he had been desperate to escape whatever bewitching spell she cast upon him.

There was no way around the matter; he had to make her listen. If he had to lock her in their bedchamber and hold her down, the lass would hear him out. He cursed himself and began to take off after his wife when someone gripped his arm. "Nay, let her go," Alice said.

James closed his eyes. "Alice, I have to talk to her."

"I can no' let ye do it. If ye go after her now, ye'll make a bigger arse out of yerself then ye have already." Alice motioned for James to sit at a nearby table. "If there's one thing I know, it's when a lass needs to be alone."

James rested his head in his hands, scrubbing the tension from his temples. "Alice, I've been a fool."

"Aye, a fool in love." Alice patted him on the shoulder and poured him a tankard of mead.

Oh, how he'd missed Alice. She always knew what to say at the right time, soothing him just like a mother would. But, step out of line, and she'd let him have it.

Alice sat beside him and rested her hands on the table in front of her. Her face grew serious. "James, ye be a good man. Dinnae let yer past spoil yer future with Princess Abigale."

"'Tis not the past I worry about so much as my better half." He flashed his dragon's eyes at Alice. "She'll never understand."

"Aye, but did ye give her a chance? She's a smart woman, James, and she's good for ye, too." She winked.

Aye, she was perfect in every way. Even when she was angry. "I need to talk to her." James began to stand and leave when Alice clucked her tongue at him. "'Tis best ye wait until the morn, trust me words. She's hurt, she thinks ye're abandoning her."

James sat back down. "Abandoning her?"

"Aye. 'Tis not my story to tell but Abigale's da didnae visit her much at the abbey. She told me she felt abandoned by him. So ye can see why she feels like ye're doing the same."

James was stunned. Instead of thinking how this would affect her, he had been too wrapped up in his own reasoning for sending her away. The look on Abigale's face when he mentioned her da came back to him. She wanted to shut that part of her life out just like he wanted to shut out his dragon side from her.

"Alice, I've been a selfish, stubborn arse."

Alice shook her head, "Ye be a Dragonkine and there's no fault in that." She rose. "Now, go to yer solar and think wisely about yer situation. Talk to Abigale in the morn after a good night's rest. Trust me." She smiled and quit the hall.

James grabbed another oatcake and then headed to the solar. _Think wisely_ , he mused. Words never seemed to come easy for him, especially when it came to Abigale. But he had to try to make her see that indeed he wanted her to stay. He would never abandon her, _ever_. Even if she denied his dragon, he would always love and protect her.

# 14

_Ye be no princess, ye're a bastard!_

* * *

Abigale slammed the bedchamber door with such force, she thought she heard the hinges crack. "Unbelievable," she muttered as she paced the room.

She was on the verge of being abandoned again. Sent away, unwanted, and left to live alone. Her mother had left her when she died—her father had left her at the nunnery—and now, her husband wanted to send her to Bothwell. _Nay, I won't leave._

Something had changed between them in the past few days; she felt it. James wouldn't let her out of his sight, so they had spent most of the day cuddled in bed while he healed, and Abigale caught up on sleep. His kisses felt like she was the only woman he had ever kissed, slow but with fierce need. There was something more between them and there was no denying it. Well, at least on her part.

Or, had she played the fool? Abigale's anger grew. Was this some kind of trickery or bewitchment? Had she been too blind to see that he was a man who took what he wanted and didn't care about anyone else? Could he be so cruel? Mayhap he would only call on her to satisfy his urges. His own personal whore.

Why was fate being so cruel? Didn't she deserve happiness? Or mayhap she didn't. Perhaps her destiny was to be alone. _Alone and a bastard_. A vision of Abbess Margaret appeared by the hearth. The raven-haired witch turned slowly to face Abigale. Her voice chilled her like ice. "Did ye actually think a man would want ye, bastard?"

Abigale back-stepped. "Nay, ye can no' be here." She shook with fear.

In a flash, the abbess was eye-to-eye with Abigale. "Oh, I'm real. I'll never leave. Ye need me to remind ye of who ye truly are. A bastard," she mocked. "If ye were a true princess, yer father wouldn't have abandoned ye."

"Nay." Abigale shook her head. She stood up to the wretched witch. I am the Princess of Scotland, and ye'll treat me as such."

* * *

"The only reason James married ye was because it was arranged by yer father. Yer father didnae want ye, so he married ye off to be done with ye. __ Ye be no princess, ye're a bastard!"

"I no longer believe yer vile words." Abigale squared her shoulders. The fear of the abbess's deadly fist no longer frightened her. Not after she met the Boogeyman. "I am the king's daughter and ye'll will respect me."

Abigale pursued Abbess Margaret toward the window. "Yer soul is full of jealousy and hatred. How can ye call yerself a godly woman?" Abigale pushed the abbesses, causing her to lose balance. The witch grabbed for Abigale as she fell out of the window.

Abigale gazed out the window excepting to find Margaret's shattered body below. But the wretch had disappeared.

Abigale rested her hands on the edge of the widow and hung her head. Was she going mad? The abbess was never there, was she? She closed her eyes and breathed in, trying to calm herself.

The walls of Castle Black Stone were beginning to feel restrictive and her chest felt tight. She needed to leave this place. Mayhap a trip into the village would do her some good Mayhap some sweet-smelling candles would lighten her mood. Abigale grabbed her cloak and headed for the door.

Once in the corridor, she nearly missed Marcus following her. "See, I told ye he was too stubborn."

Abigale stopped abruptly and faced Marcus. "What do ye want?"

Marcus stepped back. "Lady Abigale, please forgive my rudeness. I was just trying to lighten yer mood."

He seemed sincere. Abigale felt horrible for snapping at him. It wasn't his fault that his cousin was an arse. "Marcus, I'm afraid I'm in no mood for company. Please excuse me, the air is foul around here. I need some fresh air."

They continued walking. Reaching the stairs, Abigale hurried to the great hall. Marcus would not give up, he kept following her.

"Ye know I'm a good listener, and ye look as if ye need someone to talk to."

Nay, she needed to be away from this castle and its stubborn laird. She'd had enough of being told what to do and when she was going to do it. She was hurt, confused, and worried she might be leaving Alice and Effie.

Abigale took a deep breath. "I thank ye kindly for yer concern, but I need to be alone. I'm taking Fergus to the village." She tried her best to smile and reassure him that she would be fine.

"The village alone—without an escort! Nay, I won't allow it." Marcus folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Och...I'll be fine."

"Nay, lass. Ye can no' go alone, 'tis no' safe. The merchants can be ruthless. And do I need to mention the natty lads lurking around waiting to pick yer pockets. I'll escort ye to the village."

It was true. People were hungry and in need of coin.

His mouth was just inches from her ear. He whispered, "I will no' take no for an answer."

The sound of his deep voice made Abigale go silent. His presence alone demanded submission as though he was never denied it. Unease shivered through her.

"Good. I'll tell the stable lad to ready the horses for us. We'll leave shortly." Marcus strode out of the great hall, taking all the tension with him.

Abigale blew out a pent-up breath as she made her way to the kitchens, to grab an apple for Fergus. She hadn't ridden since she'd suffered the dreadful saddle sores. She couldn't wait to ride.

She reached the stables and Marcus had the horses ready. "I hope ye can keep up." She threw an extra apple at Marcus, then smiled. Aye, this was exactly what she needed. She could already feel her mood changing.

Abigale and Marcus walked by the stalls, looking at the different items for sale. Fresh air really did help clear Abigale's mind, she felt better. And, Marcus hadn't pushed her to talk.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a plump, older woman stepping out from behind a cart selling what looked like fresh honey. The woman approached Abigale but was quickly halted by Marcus.

"Pardon me, my lady, I want to thank ye for saving Laird Douglas." She bowed her head and nervously wadded up her apron in her hands.

Abigale motioned for Marcus to stand down, she was no threat.

The woman lifted her head to look at Abigale. "My lady, I do no' have expensive gifts to give, but would ye kindly accept this as a token of my gratitude?" She handed Abigale a cloth-covered object that fit in the palm of her hand.

Abigale was shocked when she opened the fabric and found a brooch. She ran her finger around the half-circle pendant tracing the knot work. The brooch was weathered and old, as though it had been passed down through generations.

"Oh, my lady, watch out for the pointy end. 'Tis sharp," the woman warned.

Amazed that the woman would part with such an heirloom, Abigale could not accept such a gift. "I can no—"

"The princess thanks ye kindly," Marcus nodded to the woman.

As they walked away, Abigale felt confused as she looked over her shoulder at the woman who was now beaming.

Marcus leaned toward Abigale. "'Tis rude to decline a gift, especially when it's a gift of thanks."

"Marcus, she could have used this to barter for food."

"Aye, but she wanted ye to have it." Marcus winked at her.

It was apparent that Abigale had a lot to learn about life. Being sheltered came with its disadvantages. Clan rules hadn't existed in her world until a few days ago. She would have felt horrible if she'd hurt the poor woman's feelings. Being naïve was going to land her in a world of trouble.

As they passed the last merchant, Abigale noticed a rundown, stone cottage with a badly woven thatch roof. Two little girls with ripped, dirty tunics were standing outside in front of a loosely hung door that banged shut with the slightest breeze. They were filthy and looked as if they hadn't eaten or slept for days.

Before Marcus could stop her, Abigale walked up to the girls and bent down. "Where's yer mum and da?"

The youngest girl swayed back and forth with her hands tucked behind her back. She looked down to her bare feet and shrugged her tiny shoulders. She could only be about five summers old, Abigale thought as she picked a piece of mud from the little girl's body. The eldest girl shoved her shoulder into the little girl as if letting her know not to trust the strangers.

Abigale walked past the girls and into their home. She pushed the door open and quickly had to cover her nose from the wretched smell. "Hello! Is anyone home?"

No one answered.

Marcus followed Abigale inside and quickly covered his nose with a white linen cloth. "Bloody hell!" He stood next to Abigale as they observed the filth.

Rotten food and dirty trenchers littered a wooden table near the hearth, which was blackened with thick soot. Straw mixed with mice droppings covered the dirt floor, and in the middle of the small house lay a mud puddle. Abigale cringed at the thought that this was the only source of water for the girls.

"Who would allow such living conditions?" She shook her head.

"I dinnae know. Something is verra wrong here." Marcus motioned for them to leave.

Abigale stepped back outside, breathing in the much-needed fresh air. The girls watched them intently, yet never said a word. Abigale's heart broke for them. Had they been abandoned? Undoubtedly, they had been mistreated and left alone. But for how long? How could someone do such a thing? Something wasn't right there; Abigale could feel it.

"Marcus, we need to take these girls back to Black Stone. They can no stay here."

Marcus folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the girls as if he didn't trust this situation. "My lady, I think it's best we leave before someone shows up."

Abigale was shocked. Her dark brows furrowed. "Ye dinnae mean to leave the girls here? We have to welcome them into our home until we figure out what happened."

"Ye dinnae understand. If we take the girls, their parents may come looking for them. Marcus was trying to talk some sense into her.

"I will no' leave these girls." Abigale put her hands on her hips, tipped her chin up, and stood her ground. "Either I stay here..." God, she hoped it didn't come to that. "Or I bring the girls back to Black Stone. As long as I'm married to the laird, we'll take care of our people."

Marcus ran his hand through his light brown hair in aggravation. "Fine, but ye will have to answer to yer husband, no' me."

Abigale smiled in victory, but it was short-lived as the ground started to rumble and screams rang out. Abigale turned to Marcus. He already palmed the hilt of his sword, ready to protect her. As if he knew what she was going to ask, he explained "Village raid. We need to get ye out of here, now!"

An orange glow lit up the sky. Flames raged as ruthless soldiers on warhorses torched homes and crops. Abigale couldn't move. Everything was happening so fast.

Marcus stood in front of her with his hands on her shoulders and gave her a shake to get her attention. "Princess, ye must leave. There's no time to waste."

Something instinctual awakened and with much haste, she picked the youngest girl up, while Marcus carried the eldest. Abigale followed him to a thick, wooded area. Once they were safely away from the village, Marcus put the girl down. She quickly ran to Abigale.

"There's no time to get back to the castle. Ye'll have to hide here until I come back for ye."

"Where are ye going?" Surely, he wasn't going to leave them alone. Abigale couldn't fight off an attacker. Was he daft?

"I'm going to alert James. Find a place to hide. I'll be back." Marcus headed back the way they had come.

Oh, dear Lord, what was she going to do? Her heart was racing so fast she could hear it pounding in her ears. Abigale turned around, looking in every direction, trying to find a place to hide.

_These girls need yer strength, not weakness,_ she scolded herself. Taking a deep breath, she decided to head deeper into the forest. They came across an old yew tree with a hollowed-out trunk. A perfect place to hide. "We'll be safe here," she reassured the girls.

The two girls clung tightly to one another as they sat toward the back of the hollowed yew. With haste, Abigale removed her dirk and sat with the children. "Marcus will come back. I promise." She put her arms around the girls, squeezing them tight. She kissed their heads, making sure they knew she wasn't going to leave them.

The English garrison continued their raid with fierce determination on clan Douglas, slaughtering and burning the village. Marcus dodged a man's broadsword, then stuck the filth in the gut as he made his way toward his horse. Abruptly, a soldier perched high upon his warhorse stopped Marcus with his sword pointed at Marcus's throat. He swallowed against the cold steel. Long black feathers protruded from the top of the knight's helm and flowed down past his shoulders, whipping in the wind. Through the slit of his visor, his cold stare chilled Marcus bone-deep. "Where's the princess, Highlander?" The knight shoved the blade deeper into Marcus's skin, just enough to prove his point.

Marcus studied the man as if he was considering how he was going to answer. Or mayhap he was questioning his own motives.

The warhorse chomped at the bit and pawed the earth. "Well, are you going to tell me or will I have to gut you?"

Marcus looked toward the woods where he'd left Abigale and the girls, then back at the impatient knight.

The Douglas war cry broke out. Marcus readied for battle as he saw the Black Douglas and two hundred clansmen charge the garrison, defending the village.

Abigale was trying desperately to be brave, but she was just as scared as the girls. In the distance she could hear the blood-curdling cries of villagers and the faintest sounds seemed louder than they really were. They couldn't stay hidden in there forever. What if something happened to Marcus? What if those raiders came searching for them? Nay, for the girls' sake, she needed to find out what was going on.

"Girls, I'm going to take a look outside. I need for ye to be brave and stay here until I return," Abigale insisted.

Tears streamed down their dirty faces as they clung to each other. The youngest shook her head.

Abigale wiped away the wee girl's tears. "I promise I won't be long, little lamb."

Before Abigale got up to leave, she looked down at her dirk. She couldn't leave the girls unprotected. "Take this and dinnae be afraid to use it."

She crawled out of the trunk.

Abigale reached the tree line and peeked through a thicket of blackthorns overlooking the village. She cringed at the sound of clanking swords. Clan Douglas was fighting for their lives. Her heart told her she needed to help the wounded, but common sense told her to stay hidden and get back to the girls.

As she looked toward the castle, gauging how far away it was, she noticed about two hundred clansmen on horseback riding toward the village. Thank God help was on the way! But where was Marcus? Dear God, please let him be alive.

She was retreating into the forest when someone grabbed her by the braid and yanked her into a hard chest.

"Aren't ye a pretty one?" A snarl came from the man as he snaked his arm around Abigale's waist and covered her mouth with his other hand.

He smelled like a dung heap and ale lingered on his breath. _A raider_ , Abigale thought. She tried to wriggle free. Not wanting to frighten the girls, Abigale held back her screams as panic pricked up her spine. What was this man going to do to her? More important, what was she going to do? She should never have left the safety of the yew tree.

Abigale hauled-off and kicked at the man in the shins and bit down hard on his hand.

"You bitch!" he yelled and released her. Shock spread across his scarred, unshaven face. An evil grin crept across his lips. "You better run princess before I catch you again."

Not wanting to lead the man to the girls, Abigale turned and ran in the opposite direction. She glanced over her shoulder to find the rogue hot on her heels. God help her! She didn't know where she was going. Then she tripped over a tree stump. As she turned over and frantically scooted away from the raider, she knew she had lost all hope of getting away safely.

"Looks like the big bad wolf caught you, wench. Ye'll pay for wounding me fighting hand." The man grabbed Abigale's legs and slid her toward him as he yanked up her dress.

Abigale tried to kick him off, but he was too strong. As he leaned over her, she clawed at his face, but he slapped her hands away. Then he raised a fist with an evil grin on his face. She blocked the first blow, but he landed a hard slap on her cheek, causing stars to burst behind her eyes. Then another blow followed.

Abigale slowly opened her eyes to find Abbess Margaret standing over her. "Bastard." Abigale cowered as she saw the abbess's raised her fist.

"Ah, you be the princess everyone is talking about."

She looked up to see the wretched man straddling her, untying his dirt-stained trews.

What was happening? Her head throbbed and her heart raced. _Abigale, for God's sake, do something!_

The man tore the top of her dress. Fighting, Abigale threw her hands over her chest, clasping the torn fabric together. Something poked her hand. _The brooch_! She had pinned it to her gown before she found the girls.

_Oh, my lady, watch out for the pointy end. 'Tis sharp._ She reached for it. With the pendant in the palm of her hand and the pointy end sticking straight up, she waited to make her move.

"Ye know, wench, if ye just spread yer legs like a good little girl, this would be over soon." His mocking laughter and foul breath made her sick.

With her hand shaking, Abigale stabbed the man in the eye with the pin.

He screamed in agony, holding his face. "Bitch, ye'll pay for that."

"Let her go!" In disbelief, she watched her husband grab the man by the neck and with one fluid motion, snap his neck. She froze as the man's body fell to the ground beside her.

James's eyes darkened and his face turned sinister as he looked down at Abigale. So, this was what the Black Douglas really looked like. If she could melt into the forest floor, she would. Although he must be angry at her, she was happy to see him.

James extended a hand and helped her up. "He hit ye?" James cradled her face in his hands and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth.

Abigale was silent. She couldn't believe she'd just stabbed a man. Seeing him lying in a lifeless heap, she said, "Is he dead?"

"Dinnae look at him, Abigale. Look at me."

As soon as she met his amber eyes, she began to crumble. She wrapped her arms around him, desperate for contact, desperate for his protective strength.

"Did he—"

Knowing what James was hinting at, Abigale shook her head. "Nay, I stabbed him with the brooch before he had the chance to."

They stood there for a while, holding on to one another. Abigale felt James exhale in relief.

"Are ye alright, lass?" He pulled back so he could see her. "Ye're shaking."

"I'll be fine." She brushed the dirt from her dress.

"Nay." James put his finger under her chin and tipped it up, making her look at him. "Ye need to talk to me."

Abigale took in a deep breath. Aye, she was shaken to the core not just from the attacker but from the abbess. She hadn't realized how much the nun's abuse had affected her.

"Abigale," James urged.

"I'm..." Tears burned her eyes. "I'm broken," she whispered.

"Broken?" James brows furrowed. "Nay, ye're perfect in every way, lass." He pulled her into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around him, taking in his warmth. No amount of comfort could change who she was. "I am no' princess. "Tis all a lie."

"Abigale, I know yer father. Ye're a princess."

She shook her head and pulled away. "Then why did he leave me? Why did he leave me in the hands of an abusive witch? She hated me."

"Who?"

"Abbess Margaret. She hit me, pulled my hair, called me a bastard. And my father did nothing to stop it." Abigale wrapped her arms around herself. "I _am_ a bastard."

"Abigale." James grabbed her arms and pulled her close. "Listen to me. Ye're no' a bastard. Yer father loves ye verra much. I'm sure if he knew of the abuse he would have stopped it. I give ye my word, Abbesses Margaret will pay for what she did to ye."

Abigale shook her head. "'Tis too late. The damage is done. I'm undesirable. If ye want me to leave, I will go. I dinnae want to stay where I'm no' wanted."

James cupped her face. She tried to be strong but one look at James and she fell apart. Tears streamed down her face. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead, he leaned down and claimed her lips in a kiss that shook her soul.

He kissed her gently and lovingly, showing her that he indeed desired her.

The kiss ended, leaving her breathless and feeling as if she was walking on clouds. Trembling, she touched her lips and looked up at James in disbelief.

"I dinnae want ye to leave, lass." He turned on his heels and returned to his horse, leaving Abigale speechless and wee bit dizzy. That kiss opened her eyes, and for the first time since she'd met the Black Douglas, she now saw through his rough warrior demeanor.

"The girls!" Abigale remembered. She ran toward the yew tree praying they were safe.

"Abigale!" James ran after her. "Where are ye going?"

Abigale didn't answer. She reached the yew tree, and to her relief, the girls were still hidden inside. "Thank God." She pulled the girls out and wrapped her arms around them.

"Abigale, what is the meaning of all this?"

"I found them in the village living in filth. I think they might be abandoned. They are coming home with us." She cupped the youngest girl's face and smiled.

# 15

_Never mess with a dragon's woman._

* * *

The ride back to Black Stone was eerily quiet. James rode ahead of his men, holding in his rage. He worked his jaw until his teeth ground together, never once sparing a glance at Abigale, because he didn't trust himself not to come down hard on the lass. He was holding on by a fraying thread. Plus, he didn't want to lose control in front of his men nor frighten the little girls who rode with his wife.

If the lass would have just let him explain, she wouldn't have found herself in the middle of a village raid and...James stopped mid-thought and shook his head. He couldn't think about what that English filth was going to do to her. _God's wounds_ , he had ripped the man's head clear off his shoulders. More like sliced off. With dragon claws!

Then there was the issue of these wee girls. Where were their parents?

As they approached the stables, James's anger started to boil over as he saw Marcus help Abigale and the girls dismount. James rushed to the great hall. He needed mead.

Shortly after, Abigale and the girls followed with Rory, Conall, Magnus, and Marcus.

"What were ye thinking, lass?" He couldn't stop himself.

Abigale quickly gave Alice the little girl in her arms. "Ye'll be safe with Alice," she said.

Alice lifted the wee child. "Come along, my sweets." Alice placed a comforting hand on the eldest girl's shoulder and guided her upstairs. James was sure that Alice was going to pamper the girls with a warm bath and food.

"Abigale!" James was furious with her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath "My laird," she swallowed. "I went to the village for some fresh air. As ye may recall, I needed some time to think about my new-found knowledge of Bothwell Castle."

James towered over her. "Ye wouldn't have needed fresh air if ye would've let me explain."

Abigale back-stepped until she felt the coldness of the stone wall on her back. James stalked toward her. "I didnae go alone. Marcus was with me," she meekly replied.

James turned his head toward Marcus. "And ye thought this was a good idea? Going to the village when there could very well be someone out there wanting me dead?" That thought alone raised his fury to the next level.

Before Marcus could answer, Abigale interrupted. "James, it's no' his fault, he tried to talk me out of it."

James braced his large hands on either side of Abigale's head, trapping her against the wall. Now she was defending Marcus. As if it wasn't bad enough that she had left Black Stone with another man, now she defended him. James wanted to rip Marcus's heart out and feed it to his dogs. His dragon agreed and begged to be released.

One thing James was learning fast, don't mess with a dragon's woman.

"I want ye to heed my words carefully, Abigale." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Ye will no' leave Black Stone again. Is that clear?" James growled to make his point.

She ducked beneath his arms. "I will no' be a prisoner here. I shall come and go as I please."

The silence was deafening in the great hall. Everyone awaited his reaction. No one dared to defy a command from the laird.

Who did this lass think she was? At first, James didn't know how to respond. If one of his men disobeyed, he showed no mercy—off with their heads. But he couldn't very well do that to Abigale, though the thought of bending her over his knee and spanking her arse did.

"Ye do as I say."

"And what if I don't?" Abigale's cheeks flushed with anger.

James approached his wife. He grabbed her arms to make a point that he wasn't taking no for an answer. "If I have to, I'll lock ye in the bedchamber and tie ye to the bed. I'll do whatever is necessary to ensure yer safety. Do ye understand me?"

"James, leave the lass alone. If ye want to place blame, then place it on me." Marcus stood face-to-face with him. Was this a challenge?

James stood firm. "She is no business of yers, cousin. I suggest ye back down before someone gets hurt."

"Are ye threatening me?"

James's jaw ticked. The feelings running through him were foreign to him and he didn't know how to control them. However, it didn't help that his dragon was restless and itched for a fight. Jealousy wasn't an emotion he was used to.

"Nay, no threat. I'm just curious why the sudden interest in my wife. Do ye want her for yerself?"

Marcus smirked. "I can no' deny the fact that she deserves a better man than ye."

Before Marcus knew what hit him, James shoved him with such power that Marcus stumbled back. He threw his arms up as if beckoning James to take the first punch. He was not a coward and he didn't fear his cousin, not by a long shot. "Go ahead, make yer move, Laird Douglas," Marcus mocked.

James had had enough. He didn't quite understand why Marcus was treating him this way. Was he really trying to take Abigale? Oh, James knew damn well what his dragon wanted to do. Shred the bastard. Nay, he would grab ahold of whatever was left of his self-control and be a man and walk away. In time, he would fix things between him and Abigale, because there was no way in bloody hell he would let her go.

James looked Marcus up and down as if his mere presence disgusted him. Then he walked away.

"Or are ye a coward like yer da?" Marcus pushed.

James turned and charged him, spearing his stomach with his right shoulder until his body slammed against the wall. Marcus's head bounced off the stone with a thud. No fear showed in his cousin's eyes, only an arrogant gleam. He was mocking him again. Against James's will, he cocked his right arm back and his massive hand pummeled Marcus's face. He was going to make damn sure to knock that smirk off his face.

Abigale shrieked, "Stop it!"

She rushed over to James and held on to his arm before he could hit Marcus again. James pushed her off and Abigale stumbled back.

She tried again and stepped in front of James as Rory and Conall grabbed Marcus and escorted him outside. With all her might, Abigale forcefully pushed her hands into James's solid chest. "That is quite enough!"

James looked down at her. His chest heaved and his hands were bloodied. The sheer force of his rage had let the dragon out!

Abigale couldn't quite comprehend what she'd seen. In disbelief, she stared back at James—or who she thought James was. His eyes! No human had eyes that swirled like his. And the thin black slits that centered in his depths. Nay, not human at all. Her hand shook over her mouth to stifle a scream. She shook.

"Abigale, let me explain." James took a slow step toward her.

Abigale backed away. "Don't come near me." Her words were barely a shaken whisper.

Abigale needed to find a way to escape. _What type of monster is the Black Douglas_? she thought, and what was he going to do with her? There was a beast standing right in front of her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the doors leading to the bailey just a few feet away. Could she make it to those doors and escape before he caught her?

She turned back around and met his glare. A shiver raced up her spine. Fear took over as she dashed through the great hall and out the doors.

Relieved to see that Fergus was still in the bailey, she grabbed the reins and hoisted herself into the saddle. Taking off at a full gallop toward the forest, she didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to be far away from Black Stone and her monster-of-a-husband.

# 16

_Until we meet again..._

* * *

Abigale's heart raced faster and faster with each stride Fergus took. Low-lying branches whipped against her face and scraped her skin as they blindly pushed on. She knew she was pushing Fergus faster than she should, but fear had grabbed ahold of her. The quicker she was away from Black Stone, the better.

Those eyes...sinister, snake-like slits, continued to play in her mind, causing her to look over her shoulder, paranoid that the Bogeyman followed closely behind.

Abigale turned back around and focused intently on getting through the glen. Perhaps there would be a village or town nearby where she could stay until she figured out what to do.

It all happened so fast when Fergus stumbled over a root. Before Abigale could catch her balance, she was thrown to the ground. A rock bit into her ribs as she landed on her stomach.

Slowly, she got up and fear consumed her as she saw Fergus laying on the ground, breathing hard.

Abigale clutched her ribs, wincing in pain as she staggered toward Fergus.

As she got closer, she noticed root of a tree had wrapped around his hind leg. He tried to move as he saw her but couldn't. Abigale fell to her knees next to his head. "Dinnae fash yerself, my friend. I will get ye out."

Abigale tugged on the root, but it wouldn't budge. Not knowing what else to do, she examined his leg. "No, Fergus." The bone in his hind leg was protruding though his skin.

"Fergus, ye have to get up." She wrapped her arms around his neck. I can no' lose ye."

James ran through the great hall to the stables. He mounted his mare and galloped toward the glen. He must find Abigale and make her understand he wasn't a beast. Damn him for a fool! Why hadn't he just walked away like he had planned to do? Why had he allowed rage to overcome him? Why had he lost control?

"Marcus," he growled. "He's a dead man."

James followed Abigale's trail through the woods, finding a piece of blue material from her gown stuck to a branch. _Abigale._

When he finally reached her, the sight before him shattered his heart into a million pieces. Abigale sat next to Fergus, sobbing. He jumped off his horse and proceeded with caution. He desperately wanted to go to her, wrap her in his arms, and take away the sorrow he'd caused her. She was frightened and hurt.

James moved closer. "Lass, we need to talk."

Abigale snapped her head up and her body tensed. With a dagger in her shaking hand, she pressed it to her slender neck. "Stay away or I'll cut my throat."

James put his hands up in surrender. "Abigale, I will no' hurt ye. Please put the dirk down," he pleaded and stepped closer. Was she that frightened of him that she was willing to cut her own throat?

Slowly, she stood and scraped the blade against her skin. She'd meant what she said.

"God's wounds lass! Put the dirk down and let me explain." James began to panic; she was serious. His _bel ange_ was beyond afraid; one wrong move and he would be to blame for his wife's death. He'd better tread softly.

"Go on then. Explain yerself."

Her eyes were wide. He saw her pulse jumping in her neck. How could he have done this to her? James rubbed a hand over his chest, for it began to tighten and ache. Now was the time to tell Abigale everything, for he knew he'd already lost her. He could see it in her eyes, he could feel it.

"Not until ye drop the dirk."

Apprehensively, she lowered the blade, yet her grip stayed tight.

"I'm Dragonkine. I can shift into a dragon." He paused. "I'm one of the seven Guardians of Scotland." He didn't know how much detail to tell. This wee bit of new information was a lot to comprehend.

Her voice shook with fear. "Dragon."

"Aye."

"That's impossible." She shook her head. "Dragons dinnae exist."

"Ye saw my eyes, lass. There's much more to me than that."

"How? I dinnae understand."

James took a deep breath. She deserved the truth. "Aye, Abigale, dragons have existed from the beginning of time. Dragons and humans co-existed until there came a time where balance was needed. Our elders of long ago placed our Dragonkine ancestors here to keep balance between dragons and humans."

Her dark brows furrowed. "Then why aren't there more of yer...kind?"

James took a step closer and was relieved when Abigale didn't move. "'Tis a long story, but our people were brutally massacred by King MacAlpin. Some would say out of greed." He shrugged. "Some would say out of hate. He showed mercy and saved seven of our warriors, but with it came a hefty price. We agreed to surrender our race to the kings of Scotland."

Abigale fell silent.

"The fact remains, Abigale, I'm an immortal. I will roam this Earth until someone takes my head. I'm dragon, a fierce beast that's full of hate. And I'm every bit human."

James took another step closer until he was standing right in front of her. He stroked her face with the back of his hand and looked deeply into her eyes. "I've tried to shelter ye from all this, Abigale, I swear it. But I can no' any longer."

Abigale dropped her dirk. "An immortal? How old are ye?"

James ran his fingers through her hair, picking away the dead leaves. "I'm the youngest out of the seven. I am as old as ye see me now, twenty and eight. I became Dragonkine when my da died."

"So ye are born Dragon...kine."

"Nay, we are chosen by Scottish kings and dragon elders. My da happened to be the strongest warrior Guardian, so when he died I took his place."

"Does my father know?"

"Aye. I believe that's why he wanted me to marry ye. To keep ye safe." Up until this moment, James had never been so thankful and honored to be married to King Robert's daughter. If only he hadn't been such a fool.

Abigale's mind was spinning. All the rumored tales of the Bogeyman were true. James was a monster, a beast...a dragon. She shook her head in disbelief. She had so many questions to ask but couldn't form a coherent thought. _Dragonkine...immortal._ He was endless, time didn't exist in his world. How...how was her future with James going to compare to her short life? He would watch her grow old while he stayed young.

At that time a groan and heavy snort broke through her thoughts. James and Abigale looked over at Fergus as he lay on the forest floor. Without hesitation, Abigale ran over to him and dropped to her knees. "Nay! Fergus, get up."

James crouched down and examined the fallen steed. It didn't look good, not at all. His hind leg was mangled and twisted deep within a root. Having seen this happen many times, especially on the battlefield, James knew it was already too late. He continued his examination until he saw a sharp branch embedded in the stallion's chest.

James stood and raked a hand down his face. "Abigale, I'm sorry, but Fergus is fatally wounded."

"Nay, he'll be fine once we get him back home." Denial had set in, giving Abigale false hope. She couldn't lose Fergus, nor was she going to leave the glen without her friend.

"I'm sorry lass, but if we remove that branch it will kill him." James pointed to the bloody branch. "The only kind thing we can do for him is to put him out of his misery."

"Nay!" Abigale cried out. She sobbed uncontrollably as she ran her hands through Fergus's white and gray mane. "No, Fergus."

She'd seen the blood. She'd even seen the branch protruding from his chest, but she refused to believe Fergus was dying. He was in a tremendous amount of pain and suffering.

James crouched down by Abigale and took her tear-streaked face in his hands. He wiped a tear from her cheek. "Ye can no' let him suffer. Let me help him," James pleaded with her.

Her world stood still. She understood Fergus suffered yet she couldn't respond. Eight years with him was too short. He deserved more time. It wasn't fair.

Abigale nodded, accepting Fergus's fate. She leaned over the horse and whispered in his ear, "Be brave my friend. I'll see ye soon." Abigale slowly stood, never taking her eyes off of her beloved. She began to walk toward a clearing in the forest, allowing James to do the honorable thing.

The sight of Abigale on her knees rocking back and forth and crying was absolute torture. He wished he could take her pain away. He wished he'd stopped her before she ran out of Black Stone. Why was it that every time he was around, he caused her so much suffering, when all he really wanted all along was to love her?

James walked over to his wife, placed a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed. He wasn't a man of many words and didn't know what to say, but he wanted her to know he was there for her.

"Dinnae touch me," Abigale said. She stood and faced him. "Don't ever touch me again." Her blue eyes pierced him. "This is yer fault and I will never forgive ye." She pounded her tiny fists on his chest.

He allowed her to get it all out, absorbing the blows.

"I mean it, James Douglas, I curse the day I ever set eyes on ye," Abigale cried.

James wrapped his massive arms around her. Giving her his strength was all he could do, for no words of wisdom or comfort could take the hurt away. He pulled her tight against his chest. She struggled against his hold but the more she fought, the tighter he held on. He would hold her until there was no fight left, until she cried her last tear.

Before long, Abigale gave up and her body went limp in his arms. James picked her up and whistled for his mare. The black warhorse came at once. Once mounted, James sat behind Abigale, cradling her across his lap as they left the glen to return to Black Stone. As soon as they were settled, he would send a group of men to retrieve Fergus and make sure he was given a proper burial.

# 17

_Without darkness your true light cannot be tested._

* * *

Off in the distance, dark clouds gathered high above, creeping across the blue sky. The wind blew angry ripples across the water of the loch. James sat on a boulder looking toward the brewing storm. The wind blew again, but this time there was a chill in the air, causing his skin to prickle. _"I curse the day I met ye, James Douglas,"_ whispered through the breeze. He shifted and pulled his cloak up around his shoulders. Aye, a storm was coming.

Back to the task at hand, he extended a black claw and began to carve into a piece of birch. He'd been here since the mist rose and would stay until the storm threatened to unleash its wrath.

Two days had passed since that dreadful day, yet Abigale was still mourning the loss of Fergus. She refused to get out of bed, refused to eat, and refused everyone except Alice and Effie. The women were overly protective of her and didn't allow visitors, though they couldn't prevent the laird from sleeping outside her bedchamber door every night. James didn't take no for an answer when it came to Abigale's safety. If someone was out there wanting to harm his _bel ange,_ they would have to go through him first.

His cherished deerhound Lennox's ears perked, and she stood as if to alert him that someone was approaching. "Easy, lassie," James reassured her. He already knew who it was. Dragons knew their own kind.

"I thought I'd see ye out here." Conall bent down and patted Lennox on the head.

"Aye, Conall, I was expecting ye." James continued to whittle.

Standing next to James with his arms crossed over his chest, Conall looked straight ahead at the loch. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Aye."

They stood in silence for a moment. Conall had something on his mind. He shifted his eyes to the ground and rocked back on his heels. "I come to ask for yer forgiveness, my laird."

James creased his brows. "For what?"

"For leaving ye on the trail alone. 'Tis my fault ye were—"

"Conall, I was an arse. I dinnae blame ye for leaving."

Conall exhaled in relief. Most men would have found their heads on spikes for leaving their laird unprotected, but they had a different type of relationship. They were close like brothers and quite frankly, James was the only one Conall truly trusted.

Needing to know more about the attack on his friend, he took a deep breath and questioned him. "Do ye think the shooting and the raid were led by the same person?"

"I dinnae know, but it seems to me someone wants my attention. I believe they raided the village looking for Abigale. They knew she would be there."

"Have ye talked with Magnus about the attacks?"

"Aye, he feels that there's a change in the air and the earth has become unbalanced." James struck his claw against the birch in aggravation. "And there's a weed in the garden that needs to be pulled."

Conall smirked and shook his head. "I really wish the old man didnae speak in riddles."

"He's requesting an audience with the dragon elders."

"How is he going to do that?" Conall questioned.

James looked up from his carving and asked himself the same question. This would not be an easy task. It would require Magnus to travel to a realm beyond their world. A realm where dragons ruled. Knowing the dangers that lay ahead, James suspected that there was more to it than just an attack. Indeed, the earth was beginning to shift. "I dinnae know my friend, but Magnus can be verra convincing."

"A traitor," Conall growled.

"Aye."

"Why betray yer own kind?" Conall shook his head in disgust. Loyalty was something dragons took very seriously. Loyalty meant you were family, and family didn't turn to the enemy live to tell the tale.

Blowing the birch dust away from his creation, James paused and looked over the loch as if he was searching for answers. "We are all made of greed, Conall. No matter how much power, coin, or battles won we'll always want more."

"James, ye make us sound like English filth. We are nothing like them."

"How so?"

"We protect Scotland and they want to destroy her. As long as I have my head and breath in my body, I will defend her."

"I once believed that, too, my friend, but too much innocent blood has been spilled." Abigale came to mind. She was born into danger just because of who her father was, and now because of him, she was in more danger. Someone knew he was a dragon, and what better way to kill a dragon than to steal his mate, or even worse, kill her?

"Have ye been to see Abigale?"

Conall had to ask, didn't he? A black claw scraped against the wood as James continued to carve. "Nay, Alice and Effie have made it perfectly clear that Abigale is in no mood to be graced by my presence."

Conall chuckled. "Och, why don't ye let me take care of the lassies?" He winked.

For some reason James knew there was more to it than just distracting the girls.

"Conall, ye're a good man. I'll be back to Black Stone shortly."

With that, Conall nodded and turned to go, but before he left, he said, "I've had my share of darkness, but I chose to let some light in."

James watched Conall as he rode off. Pondering his words, he wondered if it was too late for him. James had unlocked his door, even if it was only a crack. Now it was Abigale who was shutting it. He never meant to hurt her. For the first time in his life he realized just how out of control he'd become. Conall was right; he needed Abigale. She calmed him in ways that he had a hard time explaining. He wanted to live in the light, to be the man and dragon his wife deserved.

Yet, he knew he had to let her go, if she wanted to leave. Frankly, why would she want to stay? There was one last chance to make it right.

Retracting his black claw back into his fingertip, James held the carving up to the bit of remaining sunlight. Nice smooth edges and intricate details were whittled to perfection. He slipped the tiny treasure into the inner pocket of his jerkin. James stood and walked to his mare as Lennox followed right behind him. It was time he faced Abigale, whether she wanted to see him or not.

# 18

_When playing with a fire dragon, be prepared to feel the burn._

* * *

James paced outside Abigale's bedchamber, practicing over and over in his head what he was going to say to her. On his way back to Black Stone, he'd thought about how his wife was going to react. What if Abigale threw his arse out? What if she wouldn't listen as he poured his heart out? Better yet, mayhap she would forgive him and he could spend the rest of his days making it up to her. Nay, that was as farfetched an idea as to say brownies secretly lived in the castle, using their magic to clean. Now wouldn't Alice like a few of those creatures scouring about?

James was procrastinating. He scrubbed a hand down his face. "God's blood." Wasn't he a warrior who had planned battles, commanded many men to victory, and fought to reclaim his lands? He was acting like the wee child he'd been the day when he was forced to leave his father and his world changed forever. James's chest tightened.

Enough time had been wasted. He was going into that bedchamber, right words or not.

James tapped on the door, only to be welcomed by silence.

James opened the door but didn't cross the threshold. As he entered the chamber a tangy smell assaulted his senses. _Sage._ Aye, Alice was up to her cleansing rituals. He inwardly laughed at the thought of Alice smudging the room of evil spirits as he freely walked toward Abigale. How ironic.

Standing by the foot of the bed, James's heart pounded at the sight of wife sleeping on her side. The linen sheets clung to her curves, auburn curls splayed over her shoulder. He wished he could pull back the sheets and wrap his arms around her. Mayhap take some of her heartache away. But she'd made it clear that she didn't want him to touch her.

He cleared his throat and swallowed down the bile that began to rise from his stomach. "Abigale, I—"

Abigale turned over and pinned him with a cold gaze. Every word escaped him. Expressing himself seemed pointless when it was obvious she hated him.

He'd never seen such bitterness in her before. It left him chilled. And knowing he'd done this to her left him full of regret. James squeezed her foot tenderly as if his touch could bring her some kind of comfort. She drew her foot away and turned her back on him. As James moved to the head of the bed, two big trunks came into view. His heart clenched and deep inside, his dragon moaned in sorrow. Abigale had packed for Bothwell. _She plans on leaving me,_ he realized _._

The room filled with silence except for the sound of the rain that pelted the window. James bent down and took an auburn curl in his hand. He stroked the curl with his thumb. "I've already lost ye, lass, haven't I?" Tears burned his eyes. He couldn't let her go. But what could he do?

Abigale didn't move. She laid on her side, refusing to look at him. It was time for him to go, but he couldn't move. If he left the chamber he would never see his _bel ange_ again _._

James stood and reached inside the pocket of his jerkin, pulling out the wooden sculpture he'd made by the loch. Giving it a long look, he placed it on the nightstand by the bed. With a last glance at Abigale, he left the chamber.

Every word he wanted to say now echoed down the empty corridor, mocking him for being a bloody coward. Every step he took reminded him she was moving on, confirming he'd been right all along. He didn't _want_ a wife but _needed_ Abigale more than he needed the air he breathed.

The force of the door shutting sent a shiver down Abigale's spine. There were no tears left to shed, no emotions left to feel. Alice had informed her this morn that two days had passed, but for the life of her, she couldn't recall where they had gone.

After the shock of Fergus's death had broken, she came to her senses and blamed herself. James had done the honorable thing by putting the horse out of his misery. She should never have ridden him that hard through the glen.

Because she had some time, Abigale needed to sort through her thoughts. She'd questioned her feelings and why she stayed where she wasn't wanted. Had she been so absorbed by her own dreams and fantasy of having a family that she refused to accept reality? Why was she holding on to a man who was unobtainable?

If she listened to good reason she would go to Bothwell and begin a new life. After all she still had her freedom. On the contrary, if she listened to her heart it would most definitely deceive her.

James was an honorable man. Not once did he take advantage of her. In fact, he'd saved her from danger time-and-time again. He was devoted to her father. By marrying her, he'd given up his days on the battlefield. Through his honest nature, he showed her that he cared for her the only way he knew how. Surely, anyone who had to deal with a dragon inside of them had their own burdens to bear.

Then, as if the clouds had lifted, it dawned on her...The entire time, he'd been protecting her from himself. A dragon. Abigale sat up. James was a dragon. The more she said it, the more she believed it. She was in love with a dragon.

_Nonsense_. Abigale threw the cover aside and climbed out of bed.

She paced in front of her window. _James was here, why didn't he say something? Abigale Bruce, ye didn't give him much of a chance._ She shook her head. "I'm going to Bothwell and far away from...him." Saying it out loud stung. "Besides _._ " __ She folded her arms across her chest _,_ "I won't have to pack." Her trunks had just arrived a few days ago from Castle Douglas, and there they sat—unpacked.

Abigale quit pacing when she noticed something on her nightstand that wasn't there before. Odd, she normally kept a candle and snuffer, nothing more. When she got closer to the nightstand, she saw a wooden statue of a horse. Taking the figure in her hands, she smoothed her fingers over the wood. "It's Fergus." Bewildered, she inspected it inch by inch. Every detail whittled into the birch was a testament to Fergus's perfection. Every strand of hair and muscle was skillfully carved, even down to his hooves.

"James," she whispered.

With the figurine in hand, Abigale raced to the door and down the corridor. She had to find James. Her curls bounced with each step she took, bare feet padded on cold stone floors as she opened every chamber door in search of the man she loved. What a fool she'd been. He'd come to her, and she had turned him away. _Fool._ Continuing her search, she raced down the stairs, through the great hall, and into the kitchen. But James was gone. He couldn't be far; he was just in her chamber.

Cold, damp air bit through her light linen shift. It didn't stop her as she stepped back into the great hall. Only stopping to catch her breath, it dawned on her...the solar. He had to be in the solar.

A soft glow of light filtered beneath the solar door. Abigale placed her hands on the cold wood, closed her eyes, and prayed he was in there. She gave the door a push and it opened. The room was lit by the raging fire in the hearth. No candles were lit, which left the corners of the room dark and eerie. As she opened the door further, she could see James sitting in a chair in front of the hearth with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. He looked deeply troubled. Her heart ached for him.

Abigale shut the door. "Thank ye for my gift. 'Tis beautiful." Her voice shook a little.

Startled, James's looked up. "Abigale?" He must have been in deep thought, for he'd not heard her enter the room.

"I'm sorry for blaming ye for Fergus's death. It was wrong of me and I hope ye can forgive me."

"Aye, I forgive ye, but I dinnae blame ye for being upset. I should have told ye sooner what I was."

Abigale joined him by the hearth. Her beautiful, wicked Highlander raked his whisky-colored eyes over her body.

James cleared his throat. "I was wondering when ye plan on leaving for Bothwell?"

_What?_ Abigale was confused. She'd never mentioned leaving. Oh no. Abigale's throat went dry. _Could dragons read minds? Had James read her mind?_

"I saw yer trunks were packed and...well...I—"

"Nay. My trunks arrived when I was taking care of ye." She paused. "Ye thought I was leaving?"

"Aye." James's face seemed to relax a little.

"Well, I would be lying if I said the thought didnae cross my mind. I dinnae wish to leave."

Abigale could almost see his shoulders drop with relief at knowing she was staying. "Good, because I wouldn't be able to let ye go. So, lass, why are ye here then?"

The deep tone of his voice curled around her body, sending cold shivers over her skin. Knowing that he wanted her to stay gave her all the strength and courage she needed. With inches to spare between them, Abigale stepped in front of him. "'Tis like I said before, my laird, I came to thank ye."

"My lady, I must warn ye, when ye play with fire, ye get burned." His eyes held truth, so she knew he meant every word he said.

Abigale felt herself being pulled toward James until she straddled him on the chair. He rested his large hands on her hips, and she felt the strength of his grip—the depth of his desire.

She traced her fingers along his face, noticing the coarseness of stubble along his jaw, reminding her that he was pure male. The scar under his right eye reminded her that he was a warrior wielding strength and power, and the softness of his lips reminded her of how soft his heart could be. He purred low and deep, relishing her caress, reminding her he was every bit a dragon.

She loved this man with all her heart, even his rough edges and imperfections.

"James, please forgive me for my cruel words. I didnae mean them."

He stared back at her. This close, she could see amber waves swirling in his eyes. "There's nothing to be forgiven."

"But—"

"Shh. Kiss me." James took Abigale's face in his hands and drew her into a soft kiss.

He intensified the kiss. Her heart raced, sending molten lava through her veins. The fluttering in her stomach was back, making her core throb. These feelings were like nothing she had ever felt before. And she craved more.

James gently tugged her hair causing her to break the kiss. He firmly gazed into her eyes. "Do ye love him?" A shadow of the menacing Black Douglas lingered on his face as he waited for her to answer.

"Who?"

James tightened his grip on her hair as the name passed over his lips. "Marcus."

Abigale brought her hands up and covered his, loosening his grip. She whispered over his lips, "I'm here with ye, James Douglas."

Strong arms circled her body, pulling her even closer. She slipped her hands over his broad shoulders and down his back until she reached the hem of his tunic. She pulled it over his head, throwing it to the floor.

With soft lips, he kissed down the tender part of her neck just below her ear, leaving a blazing trail of heat behind. James yanked down her shift. The coarseness of his massive hands tenderly squeezing her breasts drove her daft, and just when she thought the torture would stop, he traced small circles around her nipples, turning those fluttering butterflies into flames.

Continuing his delicious assault on her breasts, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked until Abigale moaned in pleasure. Her body was his to command. Wanting more, she threw her head back, desiring more of his wickedness as he kissed, licked, and sucked her skin.

Feeling an intensity billowing deep within her core, Abigale rocked her hips forward to relieve the ache. A soul-shaking growl rumbled through James, and before Abigale could react, her nightdress was ripped clean off her body. A rush of cold air pricked her skin, which only intensified the sensation. What was this man doing to her?

Their hot bare skin touched, igniting a fire that set them ablaze. She wondered if he could feel how she burned for him, even though he still wore his kilt. As she moved her hips, James hissed and grabbed her arse and rubbed her sex against his cock. Abigale threw her hands into his long, black hair when he took her nipple into his mouth and nipped. A wave of heat spiraled through her body. Aye, Sister Kate was right... Highlanders were a wicked breed.

"James," Abigale moaned breathlessly, "what are ye doing to me?"

"Och lass, do ye trust me?"

She nodded. James slipped his hand between her legs and gently stroked, then gently slipped his finger deep inside of her, careful not to hurt her. Abigale sucked in a shaky breath.

James looked up at her. "Did I hurt ye?"

"Nay, and don't ye dare stop," Abigale commanded.

James was more than happy to oblige.

He was taking her down a blissful path. He knew exactly what to do and the exact time to do it, and he wasn't even inside of her yet. By the saints, if she let go, she'd shatter.

"Look at me, lass," James whispered.

Abigale shook her head. Her insecurity had crept up on her. Could she please him?

He brought her head down so their foreheads touched. "Look at me, my _bel ange._ "

Abigale opened her eyes to the most breathtaking man she'd ever seen.

A man of raw power.

A man of honor.

A man who was a dragon.

A man who did wicked things to her body that she enjoyed. She found a strength in his eyes that made all her worries fade away.

"I want to see ye shatter, lass," James whispered against her lips.

As if on command, warmth tingled through her body and she indeed shattered. "By the saints," she moaned and threw her arms around James's neck as another wave of pleasure hit her.

For a moment they held each other.

"I'm not done with ye, lass," James said.

Abigale snaked her hands down his neck and grazed the thickness of his chest. "Just what do ye plan to do?" she teased.

His eyes never leaving hers, he unbuckled his leather belt. Black fabric unfolded and fell to the side, revealing his hardened length.

Abigale watched every move he made. She was curious and wanted to explore his sinful body, yet her eyes grew wide when she saw what lay between them. Abigale arched a questioning brow and looked at James, who was quite amused by her astonished reaction.

"Dinnae worry." He smiled. "We'll take it slow."

Abigale licked her lips nervously. "I trust ye."

James took great pleasure in the sight before him, Abigale straddled him, her flawless skin blushed by his kisses. His _bel ange._ He was determined to make sure that Abigale's first time was going to be beyond anything she had ever dreamed of.

James stood Abigale up so he could positioned himself between her thighs. He rubbed the tip of his length along the inside of her folds, giving her a feel of his cock. _God's Blood,_ her slick wet heat inspired fierce need in him.

Slowly, she lowered herself. Abigale tensed and grabbed ahold of his shoulders. He paused for a moment. "Relax, love." He smoothed his hand down her thigh. She slid down his shaft, letting him sink deeper.

The smoothness of her breasts against his body made him shudder. The urge to thrust deeper nearly consumed him—he must be gentle. He sucked in a breath and stopped moving, afraid to hurt her.

Abigale took his face in her hands. "Don't ye dare, James Douglas. I want _all_ of ye."

He groaned—he'd give her what she wanted—what he was dying for. With one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. She sighed and moved with him, holding on to him. James felt his release building and grabbed her arse, pushing her toward a second release. Abigale threw her head back and succumbed to the pleasures James brought out of her. "Oh God, James Douglas," she screamed.

His name echoed through the solar and straight to his cock, breaking him. He spilled his seed deep inside her.

James would never have thought that surrendering to anyone would feel so sweet, but he felt content wrapped in her arms. His _bel ange._ No doubt about it, his beautiful wife was made for lovemaking. Passion shone through her deep blue eyes when she had shattered beneath his hands and he hoped he would see it again...soon.

Abigale rested her head on top of James's as he trailed his hands up and down her back. "Did I hurt ye?"

Abigale lifted her head and smiled. "Can we do that again?"

James cupped her face with his massive hands and grinned. "Aye, at least two more times tonight and then again in the morn." He stood, cradling her in his arms.

"And after we break our fast." He kissed her as he walked toward a fur on the floor by the hearth. "Then again at midday." He kissed her as he carefully set her on the rug. "And how about sunset?" James wiggled his eyebrows before he trailed hot kisses down her neck.

Abigale giggled. "My laird, I won't be leaving our bedchamber."

"That's the plan, lass."

# 19

_He was immortal; he was never-ending._

Abigale couldn't hide the smile on her face as her husband rested his head on her chest. She combed her fingers through his hair as she thought about the last round of lovemaking. He had made her body want and do things that would cause the devil himself to blush.

As she listened to the sound of the fire crackling, she gazed into the flames, lost deep in thought. She stroked James's hair as he rested his head on her chest. Questions lingered in her mind about dragons. Never would she have believed such nonsense, but she'd seen for herself the swirls in his eyes. There was no denying it, which left her mind consumed with one particular question. Could they have children?

Another thought crossed her mind that gave her a mental shake. Magic? Aye, there was something magical about her wicked Highlander. There had to be some kind of magic pumping in his body, for no flesh-and-blood human had his healing abilities. Then there was the memory loss she had experienced. Two full days were left unaccounted for, and it still bothered her that she couldn't remember how she arrived at Black Stone.

Instantly, her body ignited as James ran his thumb over one of her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine. Indeed, dragons possessed magic. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yers, _bel ange_? Ye seem far away." James kissed the top of her breast and trailed another kiss to her neck.

"'Tis nothing."

"Lass, one thing I can no' tolerate is lies. Tell me what troubles ye. Ask me anything, love, and I'll answer."

Not wanting to know the answers about children quite yet, Abigale fumbled through what she was going to say. Dragon talk seemed outlandish, nothing more than a fairy tale.

"Well...do ye...I mean...dragon..." Abigale let out a frustrated breath; she couldn't form a coherent thought.

"Ye mean to ask me if I have magical powers."

"Aye."

"Since I'm immortal, I have the ability to heal myself and I can heal others as well through a deep sleep."

Abigale sat up, resting her weight on her elbows. "I knew it. Ye healed my saddle wounds. That's why I can no' remember how I arrived at Black Stone."

"Aye, and before ye ask, aye, I spit fire." James said sarcastically as he lay on his side stretched out on the fur facing her. The flames from the hearth cast a golden glow over her skin.

Abigale laughed.

Scooting over to him, she touched the scar under his right eye. He must be a magnificent dragon. It thrilled her, but it also scared her to know that a beast lived deep inside her husband. Could she accept it? The dragon was a part of James, and she knew without a doubt she loved him, but getting used to a dragon would take some time.

Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm. "What else ails ye?"

"I can no' imagine how painful it must be to know ye'll outlive yer loved ones. Eternity is an awful long time to live."

James rolled onto his back, arm behind his head. He pulled Abigale tightly by his side. She fit perfectly.

"And ye'll have to watch me grow old and gray." She frowned and took a deep breath before she asked the next question. "And what about our children, James? Will they be immortal?"

"Abigale, as long as I'm alive ye will be immortal, but our children will not, unless one of our sons is chosen to become a guardian. I'm sorry." He held onto her tightly. "I know how much ye desire a family. This is why Dragonkine do no' marry, because of their immortality."

Their children would be mortal? Abigale fell silent as she wondered if she could endure watching their children grow old while they stayed exactly the same age. She didn't know what to think.

"I understand if ye need some time to think this through but know one thing. I would rather live my life to the fullest with ye and our future children than spend my days without ye. I know now, I need ye, lass."

Abigale's heart plummeted to her stomach. He wanted a family. He needed her. She understood exactly what James was saying—to live his life to the fullest—and she could do that as long as James was by her side.

Rolling onto her stomach, she looked down at her husband. "So, there's a possibility of wee bairns in the near future?"

He exhaled like he was holding his breath, waiting for her to speak. "Aye, as many as ye want." James smirked with the devil in his eyes.

"Well, James Douglas, the man who never wanted a wife," she mocked. "Seems like ye'll have one for a very long time." Abigale smiled and teased his chest with her fingertips.

James returned her smile and kissed her. Indeed, he had a bonny lass for a wife and took great pride in knowing he could give her the one thing her heart desired. Children.

James broke their kiss. "There's one more issue to discuss. Marcus. Promise me ye'll stay away from him."

"James, he has been a friend to me. Ye have my heart."

James stared intently into her eyes. "Promise me."

"I promise. But there's one condition." Now it was Abigale's turn to make a request. "I want the girls to stay here with us until their parents come for them."

James grumbled in agreement. He would agree if it meant she would stay far away from Marcus.

"Good." James gave her the kiss she wanted. "And I dinnae want ye to leave Black Stone." Slipping that one tiny request in could do no harm.

"James—"

"This is not negotiable," he demanded. There was an enemy close at hand who made no qualms about wanting his life. It drove him mad that he wasn't any closer to knowing who lurked in the shadows waiting to strike. Hopefully Magnus could obtain some insight from the dragon elders. That was if he was granted an audience. In the meantime, Black Stone was to be heavily guarded, and he would make damn sure he protected Abigale with his life.

Abigale rolled her eyes.

"My lady? Did ye roll yer eyes at me?" James teased her as if he was mad. "Do ye understand the punishment for such a display of rudeness?"

Abigale lowered her gaze like she was being scolded, but her grin told a different story. "Nay, my Laird."

In one fluid motion, James pulled Abigale on top of him and covered her arse with his massive hands. Each cheek fit perfectly in his grip and he squeezed. "Punishable by spanking." James wiggled his black brows.

"I shall take my punishment willingly," Abigale whispered in his ear.

A large hand came down. The sound of the swat echoed throughout the room. With each skin-stinging strike, he felt Abigale's arousal.

Pushing her over onto her back, Abigale felt his power take over and it excited her. He paused for the briefest moment, before he made love to her again. "My _bel ange_ ," he whispered.

He truly wanted her.

# 20

_In shallow holes, moles make fools of dragons. ~ Chinese Proverb_

* * *

If it wasn't for James having to deal with an urgent matter, Abigale would still be in the solar naked and wrapped up in his arms. Being the Chief of Clan Douglas of Angus and a dragon, business needed to be tended to, which gave her time to check on the girls. She was hopeful that they would be eager to play outside since the rain had stopped and the sun was shining. The promise of a beautiful morn stood firm.

Abigale winced when she bent down to slip on her winter shoes, reminding her how deliciously sore her body had become after her night with James. A bright smile crossed her face as she stood and smoothed out her dress. As she adjusted the gold knotted sash around her hips, she placed her hands on her stomach. She smiled. Just the thought of one day having a child of her own with the man she loved warmed her heart.

It was going to be a beautiful morn.

A knock on the door interrupted her daydream. Alice brought the girls into her bedchamber. "My lady, ye look stunning this morn." Alice beamed.

"Thank ye kindly, Alice."

The eldest girl with soft blond hair approached Abigale and curtsied. "Good morn, my lady."

Abigale smiled. "Good morn."

The eldest girl had been pleasant, but Abigale sensed the girl didn't trust her fully.

It was obvious Alice had cared for the girls. They were clean, hair perfectly plaited, and dressed in long-sleeved, brown wool dresses perfect for playing outdoors. The youngest, who had yet to speak, looked adorable in a white bonnet that sat on top of her blonde head and tied around her chin.

Abigale bent down to the wee girl's level and smiled. The girl peeked out from behind Alice's skirts. The poor child seemed so timid, yet there was courage behind her blue eyes. "Ye know, I have been itching to go outside." Abigale took the girl's hands in hers. "Would ye like to come with me?" Abigale glanced up at the eldest girl and smiled.

The girl returned her smile. "Yes, my lady."

As Abigale looked back to the wee one, dimples winked back at her as the child beamed from ear-to-ear. She nodded with enthusiasm. Abigale picked her up and held her close. The child wrapped her small, skinny arms around the mistress's neck and squeezed, as if saying, I've missed you.

They filed out of the bedchamber and into the long corridor. Before long Wee One wiggled and fidgeted to be released, so Abigale put her down. The girls skipped in front of her and Alice, laughing and giggling as they made their way through the castle. Abigale couldn't have been any happier. Seeing the girls like this warmed her heart. She couldn't stop smiling.

"My lady, may I have a word with ye?" Alice asked.

"Of course, Alice, ye may speak freely with me. There's no need to be formal." They joined arms and Abigale squeezed Alice close. "But first I must thank ye for taking such good care of me. Ye are a true friend."

"Och lass, ye know I love ye like my own." Alice patted her hand and smiled. "I do have concerns, my lady, about the youngest lass. She hasn't spoken at all. The eldest won't tell me her name or her sister's." Alice pursed her lips together. "I'm afraid the wee one can no speak."

"Alice, the girls need a little time and lots of love. Do no' worry," Abigale reassured her. "Has there been any word about their parents?"

Deep down she hated to ask, but she knew there was a possibility of their mum or da returning for the girls. How could anyone raise a family in that filth? It angered her to think about the condition of the cottage and how undeserving their parents were. Nay, she would protect these girls and never allow anyone to hurt them again.

Alice shook her head. "Nay, my lady, no' a peep."

Abigale couldn't help but feel relieved. "The laird has given me his word the girls can stay here until they are claimed. Do we have an empty chamber close to mine?"

"Aye, I will have it prepared."

Suddenly the doors to the great hall opened wide. Rory and a few burly warriors entered, which gave the girls the perfect opportunity to race outdoors.

As they reached the great hall, Alice excused herself to the kitchen and Abigale followed the girls.

In passing, Rory nodded a greeting as Abigale flew past him. "Good morn, Rory."

"Aye, 'tis a good morn, my lady." Rory winked.

A blast of cold air hit Abigale's lungs as the sun warmed her body. Days like today would soon be few, for the sting of winter was approaching fast.

Lennox and Mahboon raced across the grounds, almost knocking the girls down.

Abigale called the girls to her. "How about we play hide and seek."

The girls wanted to play.

"I'll be the seeker," Abigale offered, "and ye two hide."

The girls took off. The eldest called over her shoulder. "No peeking!"

Abigale finished counting. "Ready or no'...here I come."

The sound of scampering feet caught Abigale's attention and she started her search in that direction. Old oak trees with perfect nooks and crannies stood near the walls surrounding the castle, making for excellent hiding places. Abigale peeked behind an oak when the dogs charged past her and out of the gatehouse, barking as if there was an intruder.

Abigale grew cautious as she hurried to find the girls. The eldest girl ran from her hiding spot and caught up with her. The girl must have sensed trouble by the way the dogs were reacting.

"There ye are. Where is yer sister?"

"I dinnae know."

They looked at each other as if they both realized why the dogs had taken off the way they had.

"She must be in the forest," Abigale said.

Panicked, they ran from the secure walls and out into the open wilderness. Hopeful that Lennox and Mahboon had found the girl, Abigale called out, "Wee One!"

With the eldest girl right on Abigail's heels, they both came to a sudden stop. Marcus was bent down talking to Wee One. He stood up as soon as he saw Abigale approach. He grinned and released the child. "Ye should be more careful where ye roam."

Relieved that she had found the girl, yet alarmed to see Marcus, Abigale called out to her. "Come here, lassie."

Never taking her eyes off Marcus, Abigale scooped Wee One up into her arms, making sure she wasn't hurt.

A gut feeling told Abigale to get the girls back to the safety of Black Stone. Not wanting to scare the girls, Abigale took a settling breath. "Girls, get back to the castle and find Alice. Take Lennox and Mahboon with ye."

The eldest girl hesitated and gazed at Marcus with a suspicious eye. "Is everything all right, Lady Abigale?"

Marcus stepped closer to the girl. "There's nothing to fear, lass, but ye should do as ye're told."

Wee One grabbed her sister's hand as they reluctantly followed the dogs back to Black Stone.

"The lasses look good, Abigale. Much better than the last time I saw them," Marcus observed.

Abigale turned her attention back to Marcus. Dark circles shadowed his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. A red slash lingered over his right eye. He moved next to her but stopped when she took a step back. With his hands on his hips, he shook his head in disbelief. "He's turned ye against me, hasn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Abigale pretended she hadn't heard him. "I'm sure James is out looking for me. I should be heading back." She turned in the direction of the castle until Marcus grabbed her arm.

She tried to shake free but he pulled her closer. "Release me, Marcus."

"Sorry lass, but ye must come with me."

"If James catches ye near me, he will kill ye. Please let me go. I will no' say a word."

"Lass, he couldn't kill me even if he wanted to." He chuckled, then his expression turned serious. "No one is looking for ye and I saw yer husband leave earlier this morn. He can no help ye now."

Panic prickled up her spine. What was Marcus up to? If she stalled a little longer someone would come looking for her. James was gone, but Alice knew where she was. Perhaps the girls would alert her. She knew someone would be searching for her soon.

"Marcus," she said calmly. "Please release me. Ye're hurting my arm."

Marcus studied Abigale's face for a moment, contemplating her request.

"Please," she begged.

"Ye know, there's something in a way a lass begs that excites me." He paused. "Kiss me like ye kiss him, Abigale. Want me like ye want him." He nuzzled her neck and breathed in deeply. "Ye smell verra pretty."

Abigale began to tremble. She closed her eyes and wished he would let her go. At this point, she would make a run for it. It sickened her being this close to him, for she could smell the mead on his breath. A tear slipped down her cheek. Where was James?

Abigale pulled from Marcus's grip, turned, and looked for a way to escape, but she was cornered by five massive figures dressed in armor. The size of these men would make a grown man run to his mother and hide in her skirts. They stood around her with their arms folded across their plated chests, helms covered their faces, and evil gushed from their pores.

"Marcus, what's going on?"

"My sweet Abigale—" He stopped mid-sentence as if he were warring with himself inside.

Before Abigale knew what was happening, Marcus grabbed her waist and threw her over his shoulder. Kicking and screaming, Abigale fought hard to escape, but it was impossible. He was too big and powerful.

"Put me down!" Abigale screamed and pounded her fists on his back. She wasn't going without a fight. She bit down on his shoulder. Marcus grunted in pain and dropped her instantly. She fell on her back.

Scrambling to her feet, she didn't make it far before she was grabbed from behind. Cold steel bit into her neck. One of the soldiers had caught her, and a wrong move guaranteed he would slit her throat.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as Marcus approached. "Looks like we have a feisty one here." He punched her face. Stars exploded behind her eyes and her body went limp.

# 21

_Capture the princess, slay the dragon._

* * *

Abigale lay motionless. Her heavy eyelids begged to open as throbbing pain slammed through her. Dampness from the ground seeped through her dress and settled deep in her bones. She blinked back the fog until iron bars came into view, causing her to panic. People argued in the distance. Where was she?

As she slowly sat up, her surroundings started to spin and so did her stomach. Her cheek ached. As she tried to swallow, the taste of blood filled her mouth. She spat the blood out and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Events were slowly coming back. She remembered being in the woods with Marcus and... Marcus had knocked her unconscious. He had taken her away, but where?

She stood. Still unsteady, she stumbled against the bars behind her. She was in a cell only big enough for her to stand in. Torches hung on posts casting shadows upon the enclosure's fabric. _A tent_. She must be inside a tent, and judging by the glow of the torches, it must be night.

Feeling steadier on her feet, Abigale took a few steps to the front of the cage. She grabbed the bars and gave them a shake, testing their strength. They were solid. Two figures came into view outside the entrance of the tent. Although she couldn't see them, their shadows indicated they were men. Abigale strained to listen, trying to recognize the voices. Aye, she did. One of the voices belonged to Marcus but the other voice was unfamiliar.

"Ye promised if I brought ye the princess my sister would be returned to me. Now, where is she?" Marcus said.

"I would watch that tongue of yers. Ye are in no position to be giving orders." Rickert stabbed a finger at Marcus's chest.

Looking at the finger, then back at Rickert, Marcus had a grim feeling he had been deceived. "I want to see my sister."

"Sutton," the sheriff called to his trusted second commander.

"Aye, my lord."

Marcus looked at Rickert as he whispered a command to the burly man. As quick as Sutton came, he left to do his lord's bidding.

Placing his hands behind his back, Rickert stood in front of Marcus. "Ye should know who ye're dealing with before ye trust them, fool. I told ye there would be a village raid. All ye had to do was tell us where to find the princess. Seems to me yer cock got the better of ye, aye?"

"I did as ye ordered, I brought ye the princess. What more is there?" Marcus was beginning to lose his patience.

"Aye." The foul man stepped closer until his lips were lingering over Marcus's ear. "I want the dragon."

This was the moment Rickert had been waiting for, his revenge on James. Now with Abigale in custody, the dragon would soon come and he would get his revenge. Slay the dragon.

Sutton, now with a wooden box in his hand, came marching up. Handing the box over to his lord, he bowed and walked away.

"Did ye really think ye would see yer beloved sister again? Ye're as naive as yer whore-of-a-sister."

Sweat began to bead across Marcus's forehead and his heart thundered in his chest as he looked at the box. _Nay!_

The sheriff laughed evilly. He threw the box at Marcus's feet. "Be proud, she put up one hell of a fight." He then turned and began to walk away.

The box landed with a soul-shaking thud. Its contents spilled out and a bloody heart lay in the dirt.

Marcus cried out in agony and he dropped to his knees. With shaking hands, he picked up his sister's heart and placed it back into the box. Her heart, her kind, good-natured, innocent heart. Marcus shook his head. "Nay!"

Primal instincts suddenly exploded inside of him, sending Marcus into a rage. As he stood, he pulled a dirk from his boot. He glared at Rickert's back as if he was mentally crushing the man. "Rickert!"

Rickert turned only to find himself nose to nose with Marcus. Without flinching, Marcus drove his blade into Rickert's stomach. Wide-eyed, the man fell to the ground, instantly dead.

A fool no more, Marcus stood over the dead man. He should have known better than to trust an Englishman's word. But did he really have a choice? Nay, he did what he had to do in order to save his sister and now look where it had gotten him. He'd betrayed his clan and he'd failed his sister.

This was James's fault. The bloody bastard cared only about himself. Marcus seethed inside. When James burned down the English garrison to reclaim Castle Douglas, he only made enemies. But instead of the enemy destroying James, it destroyed Marcus. It had always been about James, hadn't it?

Good thing Marcus had a sharp mind, for he knew Rickert to be a cheat and a master of trickery. _But never fret_ , he reminded himself. His sister's death would not be for naught. Everything became crystal clear. It had been woven into the fibers of his soul; this was what he was destined to do. All along he could hear the dragon cry, yet fate could not be rushed. Risky as it might be, he had a plan. Dragon blood would be spilled tonight and a kingdom would rise again.

Abigale's hand flew over her mouth in shock. She had just witnessed Marcus killing a man. Terror ripped through her as she began to pull at the bars, praying they would bend. She had to get out of there.

The flaps of the tent flew open as Marcus's body filled the entrance, causing her to step toward the back of the cage. Marcus glanced at her. "Ye saw me kill him, didnae ye?"

Abigale stood silent. The hard-cold tone of his voice chilled her veins.

"Dinnae fash yerself, Princess, I'm no' going to kill ye."

"I need to know why, Marcus." Her voice shook. "Why did ye kill that man?"

"'Tis best ye stay quiet and dinnae draw attention to yerself."

"Why did ye bring me here? I trusted ye and ye deceived me."

Marcus strode to the cage. "Ye see, lass, that's where ye went wrong." He rubbed his hand through his brown curly hair as he paced back and forth in front of her. "James has made quite a few enemies. I told him not too long ago." He looked far away as if he was remembering that day. "I'm afraid yer husband's brutal ways have caught up with him."

"I dinnae understand."

Marcus stopped in front of her and grabbed the bars, causing her to flinch. "Abigale, that bastard I killed," he paused like he was trying to rein in his anger, "wanted to kill James for the brutal way he massacred his men when yer husband reclaimed Castle Douglas. Ye were the bait to bring James here."

"And ye agreed to betray James. Why? Why would ye do such a thing?"

Marcus looked down at the ground and shook his head. "'Tis none of yer business; it's personal now. James will pay for what he has done to me, mark my words, Princess."

There was no room in that blasted cage. Like a wild animal trapped, she felt the need to run, but there was nowhere to go. _Capture the Princess; slay the dragon,_ she thought. Gradually, she put the puzzle pieces together as she recalled Marcus asking the man about his sister. Marcus had brought her here to be exchanged for his sister, hadn't he? Oh, dear God, he knew James would come for her and that's when they would kill him. Fear pricked her skin and settled in the pit of her gut. This was a trap. She faced Marcus, "Ye don't have to do this. James will forgive ye. Maybe he can help get yer sister back."

"My sister? My sister is of no concern to ye or James."

"But I heard ye talking to a man outside." She motioned to the tent entrance. "She was to be returned to ye. Is she in some kind of trouble? It is why I'm here... aye? He's holding yer sister against ye?"

"Abigale, she's—"

"What?"

Marcus said between clenched teeth, "She's dead."

Abigale took a step back. "Nay, did that man—"

"Murder her, aye. James caused her death and he will pay for it." Every word he spoke dripped with hate.

"Ye can no' mean it."

"Aye, Abigale." He held her stare. "Eye for an eye." He turned and left the tent.

Alice raced through the great hall. James had returned and barely had the time to brace himself before Alice rushed him. "My laird," Alice panted. She could barely speak. "Lady Abigale...I've searched everywhere."

Overwhelming terror shot through him. He sensed something was wrong the moment he walked into the great hall. Normally he could feel Abigale even if she wasn't in the room; his dragon knew his mate. He grabbed Alice's shoulders in order to calm her down. "Lass, take a deep breath. Where is Lady Abigale?"

"I...I do no' know." Alice started to sob.

"What do ye mean? She was here this morn."

"She never returned from playing with the girls. The eldest mentioned a scary man in the woods."

"In the woods?" Bloody hell, she had promised him she would not leave the castle walls. "Are ye sure?"

"Aye."

"How long has she been gone?"

"I'm no' sure, my laird"

James fought back the urge to shake the answers out of her. "Alice, think. I need to know how long."

At the same time, Conall and Effie entered the great hall. Realizing the commotion, they instantly hurried over to James. "James, what's happened?" Conall said.

James released Alice. Effie quickly caught her as she collapsed into her arms.

"Conall, find Rory. Abigale is missing," James ordered.

"Aye." Conall was gone as quickly as he arrived.

"Effie, stay here in case Abigale shows up."

"Aye," Effie confirmed.

With haste, James stormed up the stairs and toward their bedchamber. Although he knew better than to believe in false hope, he still held on to it as he entered their room. The door slammed open. "Abigale!"

Nothing. No sign of his wife anywhere.

James sat down on the bed, resting his head in his hands. Doubt began to fill his mind; she couldn't be gone. What if she had left of her own free will? Was she having second thoughts about being married to a dragon? That alone was enough to make a lass run. Nay, she wasn't a runner. They would have talked about it; that he knew for sure. Alice mentioned a scary man in the woods. Panic pricked him like a thistle. Someone had taken his woman.

James stood and something shiny and gray sticking out from under the bed caught his eye. Squinting to focus, he bent down and picked it up. It was an arrowhead. He turned it over and studied the arrow; his blood stained it. The arrowhead was the same one Abigale had removed from his chest. As he looked closer it became clear. It was made out of flint. "God's blood," James cried out. _Marcus._ He was the only one who made his arrowheads from this kind of flint. Marcus had tried to kill him!

Anger like he'd never felt before pulsed through him, and his dragon stirred impatiently, waiting to be released. James squeezed the arrowhead until blood trickled down his hand. There was a traitor lurking around clan Douglas. James cursed and threw the arrow at the stone wall with such force that it became embedded deep within the stone. "I will take the bastard's head."

James stormed out of the room in search of Rory. If anyone could find Abigale, Rory was the one. Out of all the Guardians, his tracking ability was superior. However, James prayed that he wasn't too late.

# 22

_Unless a serpent devours a serpent, it will not become a dragon. ~ Chinese Proverb_

* * *

Perched on his war horse on top of the cliff, James viewed the valley below. The highland winds blew and rattled the nearby trees that concealed their presence. Conall was mounted on his steed next to James. "If anyone can find Lady Abigale, 'tis Rory."

"Aye." James sat motionless.

Rory had led them right to Marcus, but the campsite was unnervingly quiet. James sent Rory to find Abigale, just in case the enemy had moved her to a different location. Even though James could sense she was near, he wanted to make sure before they attacked.

James finally noticed movement at a smaller cliff and nodded in that direction. "At least two hundred archers over there."

Conall concurred. "Aye."

"Och lads, two hundred men and four dragons seem like a disadvantage. Should we play nice?" Magnus asked.

"Magnus, if yer lady was held captive, would ye play nice?" James bit back.

"Nay, I'd gut them where they stood."

A rustle nearby turned their bantering to silence as they drew their swords and waited for an attack.

Rory looked like he had just seen the Devil himself. Three swords stared at him with their pointy ends promising to slash his throat. "God's blood, ye almost made me shite myself!"

James sheathed his sword. "Well?"

"Lady Abigale is there. See that red tent by the tree line?" Rory pointed. "The princess is in there. Alive."

Relieved at the good news, James exhaled. "And Marcus?"

"Aye, he's there. I can feel the bastard." Rory's eyes narrowed in disgust.

Once James had informed his men about Marcus and how he'd betrayed the clan, the Dragonkine warriors were shocked and confused. Marcus was one of only a few humans the warriors allowed in their inner circle, primarily because he was James's cousin. Dragon he was not, but he fought on the battlefields as if he were one of them. Marcus was considered one of their own, so his betrayal was a bitter brew to swallow.

"Rory, Magnus, stay here and watch those men." James pointed to the small cliff where the archers were posted. "Conall, come with me."

Marcus and his five guards walked through the camp. After the news of Sheriff Rickert's sudden passing, the men who held true to the late sheriff became unruly. Marcus needed to put an end to it. Either you were with him or against him; there was no in between. They did not really need Rickert's table scraps of an army. Five unhuman savages could take down an army twice the size without batting an eyelash. Aye, the Creepers came in handy.

With each footstep, Marcus could feel every lash upon his skin from the sheriff's beatings begin to tingle and rage bubbled in his veins. "Are the archers positioned?"

The knight bowed his head to confirm.

"Very well." Marcus turned to the five. "Remember the lady is to remain unharmed."

The leader of the group nodded and drew his sword. No words were spoken; there was only action as the men swung their swords into Sherriff Rickert's ground troops. The men had no time to fight back. Blood sprayed as throats were slit limbs dangled as swords crashed through bodies, and their screams rang out in the night.

Marcus grinned when he heard the blood-curdling screams. He looked around the looming cliffs and sniffed the air. It wouldn't be long now. The dragon would come for his woman and he would be waiting for him.

Surprised that they had not been confronted yet, James and Conall approached the camp with extreme caution. They scanned the perimeter but saw no movement. No soldiers or horses—nothing. They stayed alert and continued deeper into the camp. "Something is no' right here," James whispered to Conall.

"Aye, do ye smell it?" Conall crinkled up his nose at the foul stench.

"Aye." James knew the stench of death all too well.

They came to a halt, for the sight before them stole their breath. Lifeless bodies littered the ground, and tattered material from the tents blew into the night breeze like ribbons rippling through the air. Fear of what might have become of Abigale drove James forward. He had to find her, but by the looks of things, it seemed unlikely she would have survived the attack.

"There's more here than death, James. It's some kind of magic. I can feel it." Conall bent down and placed his hands on the ground.

A tingling sensation pricked up his spine as his dragon stirred. No doubt he felt it and so did his dragon. "Creepers," James snarled.

"Aye, Death Dragons." Conall stood and wiped his hands on his plaid. "But the question is, why are they here?"

"Dinnae know, but it can no' be good. I can feel it, it's like a pulse of energy running through my blood. I've never felt anything like it." Sweat started to slide down James's face. This feeling left him unnerved.

"I feel it, too, my friend."

Every dragon instinct told James to shift, but if there was a chance Abigale was there, James didn't want to scare her.

One tent stood out from the others; it was still intact. James prayed Abigale was in there unharmed and safe. Realization hit him hard in the chest; no one escaped the wrath of the Creepers.

As James approached the tent he saw a head staked outside the entrance. As he got closer, he recognized the head. It was the filth who had taken Castle Douglas from him years ago. The filth that James had battled hard against to regain possession. The filth he set on fire and watched burn, so he'd thought. "Rickert," James hissed.

"Looks like he pissed off the wrong person," Conall jested.

James kicked the stake over and entered the tent.

James was not prepared for what he saw. His beautiful Abigale sat hugging her knees inside of an iron-barred birdcage. Abigale looked up and his heart sunk to his stomach. Quickly, she stood.

He pushed his hands through the bars and cupped Abigale's face. "Are ye hurt, love?"

Tears slid down her cheeks and landed on his hands.

"I'll get ye out of there." James kissed her hard. He couldn't believe she was alive. When he broke the kiss, he noticed that her cheek was swollen and there was a cut on her bottom lip. Rubbing his thumb over her lip, he said, "Who hit ye?"

"James, ye must leave now while ye still can," Abigale pleaded. "It's a trap. Marcus, he's going to kill ye."

"Did he do this to ye?"

"Please, James, ye must leave."

"Och lass, do ye have no faith in yer husband? I am a dragon, in case ye have forgot."

Abigale didn't take kindly to his jest. "Not even the Black Douglas can survive those...those armored creatures. James, please leave. Save yerself. Marcus won't hurt me, but he will kill ye."

"Abigale, Marcus was the one who tried to kill me. Ye can no trust him for his words are lies."

Conall stood guard just outside the entrance of the tent when the stench of death became stronger and the air surrounding them turned cold.

Conall peeked inside the tent. "Ye mind hurrying things up a bit?"

With ease, James pried the iron bars apart just enough for Abigale to step out of the cage. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and whispered in her ear, "I thought I lost ye, lass."

Abigale held tight around his neck. "I'm no' that easy to get rid of."

In no time, flaming arrows flew in all directions, piercing the tent and barely missing the three of them. There was no time to hesitate. If they were going to make it out alive, James had to shift. His massive dragon body could shield her from the arrows until she was somewhere safe, but she would have to see him shift. He couldn't do it. He feared she would never be able to look at him in the same light again. The beast inside would be what she remembered, not the man.

James's eyes glowed. "Conall, get Abigale out of here."

Conall knew exactly what was going on; James was about to shift. "Let me shift. Two Dragons are better than one."

"Nay! Get. Her. Out. Of. Here. Now!" James growled the last word.

Enlarged blue eyes stared back at him. Shite, she had seen his talons. "Now, Conall!"

His second in command grabbed Abigale's hand and took off toward the forest, dodging arrows on the way.

The look on Abigale's face told James he had made the right decision. No way was she ready to see him shift. If he had any say-so about it, she would never see him in dragon form. His dragon was pure evil and menacing. To make things more complicated, he barely had control of it. A young dragon was unpredictable.

Flesh began to peel away, leaving black shimmering scales; his bones began to crack. His spine popped vertebra by vertebra as his human body extended into a massive black dragon with twin horns on top of his head. Leathery black wings unfolded where shoulder blades used to be. In one fluid motion, a wing swept the area, sending the tent flying into the sky.

Like a rainstorm, red flames flew through the blackness of the night and showered down, pelting James like hail. Arrows struck James in every direction. An earth-rattling roar echoed through the campsite, shaking the tree branches. Wide wings shielded his body from the arrows. Hopefully Conall could get Abigale to safety; after all he didn't know how long he could distract the archers. He would take as many arrows as necessary in order to keep Abigale alive.

The assault stopped abruptly. Thank the Gods for Magnus and Rory. They had done their job and stopped the archers.

Out of the corner of James's eye, he saw Marcus crouching down, approaching cautiously with his broadsword drawn, waiting to make his deadly blow. James turned his enormous body toward the bastard and growled low and deep. His nostrils flared.

"Ye found me, cousin. Took ye long enough," Marcus taunted, wanting James to lose control and make the first mistake. An unpredictable, out of control dragon was a dead one.

Unfolding his wings, James swept the ground, sending blood-drenched dirt into Marcus's face. Frantically, he wiped his face. But before James could make contact, Marcus heaved his sword above his head and slammed the metal into James's long neck.

James roared in pain and stumbled back from the deadly blow. Marcus used this to his advantage and quickly approached James, intending to give the final blow. All he had to do was hit the same spot with more force and the beast's head would be hanging on his wall like a prized trophy.

Marcus advanced but failed to see a long, black tail sweep the ground, knocking him on his arse. James stood over Marcus before he could catch his breath and get to his feet.

One giant paw grabbed the betrayer's neck, talons pinned him to the ground like a cage. James lowered his head just inches from Marcus's. Blood from his wound dripped down his neck and splattered on Marcus's face.

Sinister laughter ripped through Marcus. "Cousin, it really doesn't matter who dies here tonight as long as it's a dragon." At that moment, Marcus's eyes glowed ice blue with reptilian slits.

Even though James was in dragon form, he still had human thoughts inside. Marcus a dragon? Nay, after all these years he would have felt it. Lips peeled back to form a snarl. Not only had Marcus betrayed him; he'd betrayed his Dragonkine brothers. Rage and anger took over reason as he thought of how Marcus had used Abigale and put her in great danger.

"Go ahead, do it, kill me!" Marcus shouted.

Magnus and Rory quickly shifted back into human form after the last archer met his death by dragon. Magnus stopped and observed his surroundings as he felt a prickle of magic slip up his spine. They were closer now to the camp and the stench of death was faint, but enough to tell Magnus that there was much more to this situation than a rescue.

"Nay," Magnus grumbled. "I can't believe I didnae recognize it sooner."

Rory walked up to Magnus, tucking his tunic into his plaid. "Recognize what?"

Magnus bent down and grabbed a handful of dry earth. "Blood shall awaken the spirits. The king will rise again."

"Magnus, man, ye must stop sputtering in rhymes and riddles. I dinnae understand."

"Rory, we are on the sacred ground of the ancients. We must hurry. Dragon blood can no' be spilled on holy ground."

A shrill whistle from Magnus called out to their horses. Two warhorses came charging to their masters from the forest. Without hesitation, Magnus grabbed his mane, threw his muscled leg over the horse, and took the reins in his hands. His horse was eager to run. "We must make haste. I'll explain everything soon, but we must stop those fools from killing each other."

Rory shrugged and quickly mounted his horse.

James began to crush Marcus's neck until Magnus and Rory ran toward them. "James, ye can no' kill him! No' here," Magnus yelled. "Ye dinnae understand, if ye kill him, Scotland will be destroyed. We will all die."

James turned his head to look at Magnus as if he didn't understand what the daft man was saying.

"Let him go, lad. No blood can be spilled." Magnus challenged James with glowing green eyes.

The firmness of Magnus's voice held true; James didn't want to fight an elder, but Marcus had put his lady in harm's way. No way was Marcus leaving this place in one piece; he must be punished. One way or the other, a part of the bastard was going to die. He wouldn't shed his blood here tonight but he could take his dragon, leaving him a mortal. Which he deserved for betraying him.

Without hesitation, James took his free hand and buried it deep into Marcus's chest. Marcus's eyes flew wide open, and he tried desperately to squirm away.

It was too late; James retrieved his fist from Marcus's chest and with it his beating dragon heart. Marcus screamed in defeat.

James released his talons and backed away. No dragon ever enjoyed seeing a Dragonkine's essence destroyed. Every Dragonkine warrior standing by could feel Marcus's loss.

Marcus stood and gripped his chest. "Ye have always thought ye were better than everyone else, haven't ye?" He spat at James's feet. "Ye take what ye want and do no' care about anyone but yerself."

James stood, nostrils flared as he fought back the urge to singe him to ash.

Magnus's voice broke through the hatred. "Marcus, ye need to leave well enough alone. Ye are now banished from Scotland. If we see ye here, we will stop at nothing to hunt ye down and kill ye," Magnus stated grimly.

Marcus looked around the camp. There was no sign of the Creepers anywhere. Strange, he thought, why didn't they help him now? Together, they could slaughter these dragons and fulfill his destiny. Where were they?

"Exiled?" He spat. Because he'd felt like Scotland had never really opened her arms to neither him nor his Dragonkine brethren, he laughed.

After years of feeling like a failure, he'd cloaked himself as human, thinking mayhap he could find acceptance as one. But history could not be erased; he could never forget what the humans had done to his king. In truth, it was because of these vile humans that his life had never been lived to its fullest potential. And wasn't it ironic how his own people called him the traitor, when in fact, it was the humans that had betrayed Dragonkine.

The Earth had shifted now, he could feel it. He would right the wrong and soon, verra soon, his kingdom would rise again.

Showing the Dragonkine no signs of weakness, even though he felt every last drop of energy slowly fading, Marcus climbed up on his horse and clucked him into a run as he fled the site.

The path he chose to take took him high into the cold snow-covered mountains deep in the Highlands. No one would venture up there, nor would the bite of the frigid weather chill his bones, for ice now replaced his warm blood.

Strength was fading fast and he began to feel faint. He released his hands from his chest. To his surprise, his hand was covered in blood. _Blood?_ he thought. When James had taken his dragon heart there was no blood that he'd noticed, but as he looked down into the white snow, a trail of crimson was left behind.

His body went limp, causing him to fall off his mount and into a cushion of powdery snow. As he lay there looking up into the sky, flurries covered his face. _Blood has been shed, now hasn't it?_ Marcus grinned in triumph as his world slowly filled with darkness. Perhaps _enough_ blood had been shed after all.

# 23

_Danger and delight grow on one stalk. ~ Scottish Proverb_

* * *

"Let me go, Conall. I must see him." Abigale squirmed in Conall's arms.

"Nay, my lady. James does no' want ye to see him like this."

"I can no' stay hidden while Marcus and those creatures kill James. Dragon or not, I must stop him. He will listen to me."

"I'm afraid I can no' let ye." Conall struggled to gain control of her. "Settle down or I'll have to tie ye to a tree."

Finally, Abigale came to her senses, for she was no match for the six-foot-five, hulking warrior.

Conall released her. "See, much better. Promise ye'll stay put?"

"Aye." Abigale paced a short distance, thinking of a way to get past Conall. They were only yards away from James. She could escape and get to him before Conall caught her.

"I'll be right back." Conall walked behind a thicket.

When it dawned on her what he was doing, she saw the perfect opportunity to run while Conall hid behind the shrubs to relieve himself. Well...aye, she did promise to stay put, but James needed her. Surely Conall would find it in his heart to forgive a little trickery. She uncrossed her fingers and took off toward the camp.

Abigale looked back and saw Conall returning.

"Bloody hell!" She heard the anger in his voice and picked up the pace.

As Abigale arrived at the camp, Conall caught up to her and grabbed her arm, stopping her from going to James. The commotion attracted the black dragon's attention. A deep throaty growl came from the beast and Conall released her. Relief that James was alive overshadowed her fear, and she slowly approached the dragon.

As Abigale got closer, she fought back the urge to run. Never had she seen a dragon before and, quite frankly, it scared her to death. Raw power radiated off him and the mere size of the beast would cause anyone's heart to stop. Now she understood why James wanted to shelter her from this side of him. Still, inside that dragon lived the man she loved.

Hot air puffed out of the dragon's nostrils as if to calm his nerves. With his head lowered, he gently moved toward her.

When the dragon was close enough for her to reach him, Abigale placed her shaking hand on its soft velvety nose. Funny, she thought it would be rough. Gaining more confidence, she trailed her hand over his jawline and was amazed by how gentle this beast was.

The dragon nudged his head gently up against Abigale's chest, craving more of her touch. She swore she heard him purr when she ran her fingers down his neck. He wrapped his tail around Abigale's waist and pulled her closer. She smiled. This dragon was harmless, after all, it was James that watched her when she looked into his swirling, amber eyes.

A clap of thunder shook the earth, breaking their embrace. Misty rain fell from the heavens and lightning flickered in the distance. James folded one of his black wings over Abigale's head, shielding her from the storm. Startled, more from the loud thunder than the dragon, she moved closer, tucking herself beside his neck.

The wind blew and a cold mist caused her to shiver. Knowing they would have to find shelter soon, she looked up at James to tell him just that, when she noticed blood trickling down his neck from what looked like a deep gash. "Ye're hurt."

Naturally, the surgeon in her took over and she began to examine the severity of the cut. She ran her fingers around the wound then, as though she thought herself daft, she heard James's voice vibrating through her head. "I'm alright, my _bel ange_." A shudder rippled through her. She could hear him, yet his lips didn't move. It was as though he was inside of her, talking. Puzzled, she took a step back and said, "I can hear ye in my thoughts."

"Aye, through mind speak," James said.

"Mind speak?" Now Abigale knew she must have bumped her head.

"Aye, it's through our bond that ye can hear me."

"Magic," she whispered with amazement. "Aye, some kind of magic."

James began to growl when Magnus approached them. Even though he treaded softly, dragons were extremely possessive of their mates and would not hesitate to kill another if they appeared to be a threat. "James, no need to fash yerself, but we need to get the lady out of the rain before she catches her death." With ease, James lowered his head and gave Abigale a nudge toward Magnus. "He's right. Go with Magnus and I'll be right behind ye."

"My lady, Rory has found us shelter. Come now, we must go. James will follow shortly." Magnus urged.

Abigale took one last look at her dragon and then followed Magnus.

Magnus and Rory stood guard near the entrance of the cave, giving Abigale privacy to shed her wet clothes. She wrapped herself up in a plaid and was now spreading her wet garments over a boulder near the fire Conall had built for her. As he tended to the fire, he didn't look happy with her, for she had lied to him. "Forgive me Conall, I—"

"Aye, I would have done much worse if my love was in danger. So no need for forgiveness, my lady. James on the other hand, may have an issue with it. He didnae want ye to see his dragon." Conall placed a piece of wood on the flames. "Here, sit down and warm yerself. James will be here soon."

"Thank ye, Conall. I can see why James trusts ye. Ye're a good man." Abigale smiled and took a seat next to the fire.

Conall nodded and joined his fellow Dragonkine.

As the fire warmed her cold body, she felt guilty that Magnus, Rory, and Conall were still wet and cold. "There's plenty of room next to the fire if ye care to join me." Abigale called out.

"Nay my lady. James would rip our eyes out of their sockets if he caught us even looking at ye with no clothes on," Rory replied over his shoulder.

"Don't be silly. I'm wrapped up."

"Nay lass, trust me. We're just fine," Magnus said.

It seemed like a fortnight had passed as she waited for James. She missed him and was concerned about why it was taking him so long to get to the cave. Had those creatures returned after they left? God, she prayed not. Maybe he wasn't coming back at all. _Nay, he'll be here soon,_ she kept telling herself while she raked her fingers through her hair. Before long, she vowed if he didn't show up soon, she would go out looking for him herself.

At that time a very naked and wet James strode into the cave, his eyes intently searching for Abigale. He saw her drying her hair by the fire, wrapped up in a plaid. His heart seized as the flames from the fire flickered across her bare shoulder, making her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His cock hardened, because he knew she was naked as a new-born under that plaid. When their eyes met she smiled, and that was his undoing.

James strode over to her with one purpose, to claim his woman there and now. He'd been warned long ago, that when mated Dragonkine shifted back to human form, an animalistic urge to claim their woman would consume their every thought. That was exactly what he was experiencing.

Abigale rose to her feet, but before she could say a word, James fisted the plaid and pulled her close, claiming her lips. He frantically touched every inch of her body. He broke their kiss long enough to explain. "Sorry love, I need to be inside ye right now."

With a sly grin, Abigale took a step back and dropped the plaid, leaving nothing between them but skin. Pressing their bodies together, he plunged his hands into her damp hair and captured her neck mercilessly with searing kisses and nibbles. Abigale leaned her head back, inviting him in.

James picked her up so that she straddled him. As soon as his cock brushed against her sex, he growled and pushed her up against the cold cave wall. By the saints, he could barely contain himself. The urge grew stronger, pumping through his veins. Abigale's sweet moans wrecked his self-control—the little he had left—and with one hard thrust, James entered her.

Abigale's body tensed as she inhaled.

"Did I hurt ye? I'm sorry, love but I can't control it," he panted.

Abigale shook her head. "Dinnae stop."

James buried his face in her hair, rocked his hips forward, and took her fast. She matched every thrust, and he could feel her walls tightening around his shaft. The sweet sting of her nails dug into his back and set him ablaze. "Och, lass, what ye do to me." James pumped harder, taking them both over the edge.

Sweat slid from their bodies as they stayed propped against the wall of the cave. James's legs threatened to give out, but there was no way he was letting her go...not yet. Hell, if it was up to him, they would stay like that forever. Nothing came close to the feeling of being deep inside her. He thought this was what Heaven must feel like. He was ready to take her again just thinking about it.

Abigale shivered.

"Ye're cold. Let's move closer to the fire."

She cupped his face and smiled. "Nay, I'm not cold." Looking down between them she could see how much he wanted her. She arched a brow and looked back at him. "So soon?"

James smirked. "Well, there are some advantages to being a dragon."

"Aye?"

James moved them next to the fire and laid her down on a plaid. He positioned himself between her legs and covered her body with his. "I can go as long as ye need me to." He brushed his fingers through her auburn hair. He gazed from her hair to her deep blue eyes and knew questions were brewing in that pretty head of hers.

"What happened to Marcus?"

He knew she would want to know. "Abigale, let it be." Dread filled him when he thought of what he'd done. Destroying a dragon was not to be taken lightly. James and the other Dragonkine would feel the loss of Marcus for some time to come.

"It's just...oh James, that man killed Marcus's sister."

"She's dead? Ye know this?"

"Marcus told me. James, he was blackmailed. It seems to me that the man at the camp, the one who was in charge, had promised Marcus he would bring his sister back to him if Marcus lured ye to him. That's why Marcus did what he did. He was trying to save his sister."

"The poor lass. I didnae know his sister well. But Marcus should have let me know about his situation. I could have helped, but he chose to betray me instead. He didnae need to keep secrets."

"That's just it, my love, he blames ye for all his misfortune."

James rolled off Abigale. "Me?"

"Aye, that man wanted his revenge on ye for the brutal way ye killed his men." Abigale shrugged. "Well, that's what Marcus believes."

"Since he was in such a truthful mood, did he tell ye he too is..." James corrected himself, "was a dragon?"

Her eyes widened, "A dragon?"

"Aye."

Silence fell between them as James considered how much to tell her when he didn't have all the answers himself. Once back at the castle, he'd figure things out, but now too many questions lay unanswered.

"So, what happened to him?"

If he had known beforehand that his sister was dead, most certainly he would have shown mercy. "Abigale, it's best no' to know all the details. I didnae kill him, but he has been exiled from Scotland."

Abigale closed her eyes and sighed in relief.

"Our world is complicated. I do no' have all the answers ye seek. But I can tell ye this, Abigale Bruce. I love ye and I will be the husband ye deserve. I will give ye all the wee bairns yer heart desires. I will give ye the family ye have always wanted. Will ye stay with me, lass?"

Abigale opened her eyes in surprise.

"Och lass, ye dinnae have to look like a deer about to meet an arrow."

A giggle escaped her and a tear threatened to fall. "I love ye, too, James Douglas...even the Black Douglas." No longer holding back her excitement, she threw herself on top of him and kissed him deeply.

Everything James could ever want in his life was right there in his arms. He silently vowed that he would spend every moment showing his _bel ange_ from the loch just how much he loved her.

After Abigale fell asleep, James donned his trews and to the entrance of the cave. The rain had finally stopped. Rory and Conall were propped up against the cave wall, sleeping as Magnus stood watch.

The whole situation with Marcus kept replaying in James's mind. Magnus's words had made no sense to him. Not spilling blood and Scotland being destroyed continued to be a puzzle to him and the only way to solve it was to speak with Magnus.

Magnus was sitting down leaning up against the cave's outside walls with his long legs stretched out in front of him. "I thought ye might come looking for me, lad," Magnus said as James approached.

James crossed his arms over his chest. "Did ye know?"

Magnus stared off into the distance. "Nay. I can no explain that one, my friend. 'Tis no' an easy task to cloak one's dragon, especially in the company of other dragons."

Thank the Gods Magnus hadn't known. One man's betrayal had been enough to swallow. He couldn't bear to believe Magnus would betray him as well. "I think I might have overreacted. I should no' have taken his dragon. He told Abigale that his sister is dead and he blames me for it. In fact, he blames me for all his misfortunes. That's why he took my wife from me. He knew I would come for her, and then he could hand me over to Rickert."

Magnus was stunned. "I can no trust my ears lad. The Black Douglas has a conscience?"

Aggravated, James shifted his weight on his heels and shot Magnus a scowl.

Magnus smiled. "Every old bone in my body tells me that Marcus had the plan all along. Aye, Rickert was blackmailing him, but Marcus knew where the holy ground was. Why else would he have tried to kill ye here? The lad is up to something wicked."

"Holy ground?"

"Ye felt it, the magic?" Magnus asked.

"Aye, both me and Conall."

"I wish I had recognized this place sooner. I had hoped to have never come back here."

"What do ye mean?"

"This is our kingdom." Magnus tapped his hand on the ground beside him. "This is where it all began and ended for Dragonkine. Our king waits to be woken."

James couldn't believe what he was hearing. Underneath them was their long-lost kingdom. A kingdom he had only heard of, yet he knew he followed a long line of warrior ancestors.

Magnus continued. "Dragon blood can no' be spilled on holy ground; it will awaken the seven and our king. And if our king rises..." Magnus shook his head, "his vengeance will rain down upon every human. I can feel it, James. If ye love yer wife, we must no' let this happen."

Now what Marcus had done was all making sense to him. James began to pace. "So killing me here, tonight, would have awakened our king. But why? Why would he want the king to return?"

"I wish I knew." Magnus grew dark like a cloud ready to storm.

"When Conall and I were in Rickert's camp we felt and smelled the death dragons—"

"Death dragons?" With alarm, Magnus jumped to his feet. "'Tis no' good, no' good at all. Are ye sure, lad?"

"Aye, there's no mistaking that stench nor the destruction they left behind. At least one hundred men slaughtered and Rickert's head on a spike."

Magnus whistled for his horse. "I must leave."

"Magnus, what's going on?" Something had to be terribly wrong for Magnus to leave suddenly. This left James unnerved.

"I must talk with the elders immediately. If the death dragons didnae kill Marcus, we might well have a bigger problem on our hands then we think."

Magnus mounted his restless horse. "In the meantime, I think ye've done enough damage to Marcus that he won't be a threat for a while. But hear my words, lad, don't take yer eyes far from him. Keep yer lass safe until I return." With nothing more said, Magnus took off.

James was left dumbfounded. Aye, some questions he sought were clear, but now a new puzzle piece had been found.

# Epilogue

Abigale was cleaning up after seeing her last patient of the day. Her little, stone dwelling with a thatched roof was easily accessible, located in the clan's village. Nicely placed along the east side, the bright morning sun gave it a welcoming feeling. At first, James wasn't keen on the idea of his wife and the lady of the castle working, and furthermore, being away from the protection of Black Stone.

"Idle hands are the Devil's tools," she'd told him.

"Och, lass, yer hands dinnae need to stay idle." He'd wriggled his brows. "Ye can do the Devil's work on my body any time ye want."

She remembered that sly grin and smiled as she tucked the corner of the sheet under the mattress.

But the point was made, even though he tried to distract her; clan Douglas needed a good surgeon, and she was the best.

In time, James granted her a place to work, but there was no debating about the guards who would stay outside her hut and the ones patrolling the village.

As Abigale finished putting clean sheets on one of the cots, her assistant pulled the curtain back that partitioned the room off. "My lady, I've cleaned the other two rooms and rinsed out the wash basins. Is there more ye would like me to do?"

"Nay, Anna. I thank ye kindly for yer help today." Abigale stood and placed her hands on her swollen belly. "I dinnae know what I'd do without ye." She smiled.

"How much longer until the wee one arrives?" Anna reached over and touched Abigale's belly.

Abigale didn't mind the occasional belly rub. In fact, it reminded her of how much she loved the wee one already.

"Soon, I hope. The babe must be a boy, for his kicks are strong." Abigale laughed.

Abigale walked past Anna and into an open area where she could look out a small window. Shelves filled with containers framed the window. Moving one of the jars, Abigale looked out the window and saw James. A smile spread across her face.

"Shall I wait for ye?" Anna asked.

"Nay, go home to yer family and I'll see ye in the morn."

"Farewell this eve, my lady." Anna picked up the basket of fruit Abigale had brought her and quit the room.

Abigale couldn't be happier; she was living her dream.

A blessing indeed, James had allowed her to practice her skills and live out her passion. But most of all, she had her independence. Most women didn't have that freedom. As she'd had her freedom taken from her back at the abbey, Abigale vowed she would assist any woman seeking their independence. Anna had come to her not so long ago, badly beaten. Her husband, a drunk, had beat her. After Abigale told James about Anna's situation, Anna was under the protection of clan Douglas and as for the drunken husband...he was never heard of again.

_Oh, if Sister Kate could see me now,_ she thought. Abigale looked down at her belly. Aye, if she could see her now.

James opened the door and the girls charged in before he could step over the threshold.

Abigale showered them with hugs and kisses. "Oh, my loves, I've missed ye, too." Peering up from their embrace, Abigale locked eyes with her husband's swirling amber depths and those fiery butterflies returned.

James made his way to Abigale. He placed his hands on her belly and kissed her deeply. "I've missed ye two today."

"Aye, we've missed ye too, my love."

"Are ye ready for some fresh air, _bel ange_? I thought we would sit by the old rowan tree and let the girls play for a while. What say ye?"

"I think 'tis a beautiful idea."

"Good." James motioned for them to step outside.

It was a perfect day. No storms or even wind. Once outside, the girls raced to their favorite spot and started to pick wild flowers.

Abigale and James walked beside his mare when Abigale noticed something strange. "James, how much is the lad at the stable feeding yer horse?"

James looked at Abigale as if she had grown two heads. "Why do ye ask?"

"She's fat."

"Fat? Nay."

Abigale stopped and James followed. She walked in front of the horse, rubbing the mare's nose. "Shh, lassie." Continuing around to the horse's side, she ran her hand over its belly. "James, is there a possibility she could be pregnant?"

Still looking confused, he joined Abigale and did his own examination of the mare's swollen belly. "Fergus, ye sly dog."

Abigale faced James. "What do ye mean?"

"Do ye remember the night when I brought ye back to bed from sleeping in the stall with Fergus?"

"Aye."

"Well, let's just say I rewarded him for good behavior." James winked.

Abigale slapped his chest. "Ye mean to tell me Shadow is now pregnant with Fergus's baby?"

"Looks like it, love."

Abigale's laughter soon turned to tears.

"What's wrong? Did I—"

"Oh nay, James, these are happy tears." Standing on the tips of her toes, she hugged her husband. Now a part of her trusted friend would live on.

They broke their embrace and made it over to the rowan tree. James spread out a plaid, then helped Abigale to sit. Next, he handed her a basket of fruit and bread and teased her with one of Alice's famous oatcakes.

James settled on the blanket, the ground below began to tremble. He paused for a moment and looked down at the earth.

"What's wrong, James." Abigale was beginning to feel alarmed when he didn't respond right away. "James?"

As quickly as the earth shook, it stopped. James shrugged the rumble off.

"'Tis nothing. We're fine."

"James, I felt it, too. Ye can no' tell me that was nothing."

He leaned his back against the tree joining Abigale on the blanket. He motioned for her to come sit with him. "Dinnae worry, it's no' good for the babe."

Abigale quickly forgot about the disturbance as she found herself wrapped up in his loving embrace, her back pressed up against his chest all the while James kissed her neck and rubbed her belly. How could she be so lucky to have a man who loved her so much? Truly, she felt like her life was complete.

"I have something for ye," James whispered in her ear. "Close yer eyes."

She did exactly what she was told. She could hear James rustling around in his satchel next to him.

"Open yer eyes."

What she saw took her breath away. An elegant silver torc with dragon heads on each of the ends stared back at her. The dragon's eyes were made out of amber. The torc shined in the sunlight. It was fit for a queen.

"Oh James, this is—" she was at a loss for words; the piece was beyond any riches she had ever seen.

"Here, let me see how it looks on ye." James pushed Abigale's hair over her shoulder and placed the torc around her neck.

Touching the fine piece, she turned to face him. "It fits perfectly." She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him.

"Abigale Bruce, I love ye. Hell, I loved ye from the moment I saw ye that morn at the loch. I'm honored to be yer husband and I'm most definitely honored that ye will be the mother of my children. I hope that ye can learn to love my dragon just as much as I love ye."

Tears were building up again. She was truly loved and she loved every bit of this man, even the dragon. "I love all of ye and I could no' be any happier than ye've made me." Tears slid down her cheeks.

James took her face in his hands. "Happy tears?"

"Aye, happy tears." Abigale smiled.

# Preview of Book 2 - Highland Storm

Chapter 1

* * *

Cold sweat streamed down Conall Hamilton's face and his heartbeat quickened as he sat up in bed, catching his breath. Ever since he'd dared to dream of a solitary life and settling down with a woman, haunting images of his past plagued his nights. Visions of his beautiful wife and son running into his arms should have been his last memory of his family, but Conall wasn't granted that pleasure. Instead, his last memory was of Ann and wee Thomas brutally murdered outside their village by a band of rogue Vikings.

Yet tonight's dream had been different. There had been no charred bodies, no screams, and no dirty little feet poking out from under the white sheet that covered his son's lifeless body. Indeed, this dream was different, it had come with a message.

Conall shut his eyes tight, trying to erase the nightmare from his mind. He shoved his hands through his sweaty hair and cursed. "Holy hell!" Ann was there; he had felt her.

He recalled her warm gentle hands caressing his chest, slowly making their way under the covers, where he grew aroused from the sweet torture. His hands found their way up her long legs straddling his hips. _By the saints, they are soft._

The fresh smell of rain wisped past his nose, awakening all of his senses. Silky strands of long hair tickled his cheek and her voice warmed his heart like a summer's breeze. "Wake up, me darling."

This had to be a dream, yet the body spanning him felt so real. And her scent... God, her scent. Even though centuries had passed, that scent never did. Conall rubbed his hands up and down her soft thighs and opened his eyes. "Nay, 'tis a dream."? In disbelief, he ran his hands through her golden locks. "Ann."

"Aye, me darling," she said sweetly. His wife felt of flesh and blood; her flawless, white skin shimmered with a glow as he trailed his hands down her shoulders and cupped her breasts. "If this be a dream, I do no' want to wake," he whispered.

Ann bent down and kissed his lips. Her lips were just as he remembered, full, soft and made for passionate kisses. Whispering in between kisses, Conall said, "I've missed ye, _mo chridhe_."

The beautiful woman sat up and smiled brightly down at her husband. "'Tis time, Conall."

"For what?" He didn't want to waste time with useless chatter. He knew what he wanted to do. It was what he had longed to do since the day she was unfairly and brutally taken away from him. Claim her one last time.

Conall pulled Ann down on top of him but was halted. "Nay, Conall, ye must listen to me. 'Tis time to move on and allow yerself to love again."

Another vision flashed through him. He was on bended knees, gathering up his family's ashes, preparing for his pilgrimage to the holy land. Ann and Thomas, his wee Thomas, needed a proper burial away from the ruin of their home and the evil of men. He owed it to them. They deserved peace and their souls needed to be put to rest properly.

Never allowing himself forgiveness for failing to protect his family, he roamed the earth. He was a shell of a man. With every step he took he mourned his family. Being immortal, Dragonkine warriors gave part of their immortality to their wives. They had eternity to be together. So he had thought.

As he watched her smiling down over him, he remembered that long, daunting journey. It seemed as if it had happened only yesterday, not centuries ago. Even being a dragon, the road to the holy place was dangerous. It left many travelers meeting their maker sooner than they expected. Whether it was inner peace, to be forgiven for crimes, or seeking a cure for illness, the voyagers endured the crusade, seeking spiritual enlightenment.

_One night, on his way to the holy land, Conall had sought refuge at a nearby village tavern where he was greeted by an unruly group of local folk. Desperate to rob Conall of everything, the men began to beat him. After the first blow, the warrior discovered he could actually feel again. Blow by blow, his body absorbed each pounding fist as he stood stoic. He believed that this was his punishment for failing his wife._

_Bloodied and bruised, Conall stood in the middle of the dark, stale tavern with his body giving up when a man from out of the shadows came to his rescue. Conall had been one blow away from being knocked on his arse when his rescuer grabbed the bastard's fist before it connected with his face. Bones shattered in the rogue's hand as he screamed out in pain. The rest of the thieves scattered with one look at Conall's rescuer._

_The man from the shadows looked Conall up and down and then shook his head in disgust. "I know who you are, lad. Come with me and you will find what you seek."_

_Conall wiped the blood from his lips. "Ye know nothing, auld man," he bit back. He turned to the serving wench who was standing nearby. "Ale."_

_The stranger grinned and took the seat next to Conall. "Lad, you seek the holy land, this I know." He motioned for the wench to fill his cup, too. "For what reason, 'tis for you to keep. I'm only offering you our protection."_

_Conall laughed. Mortal men offering him, a Dragonkine, protection. This was ludicrous. He housed a dragon deep inside of him, for God's sake. He was far more dangerous and capable of taking care of his own affairs. "Och, if ye know who I be, ye would know that I dinnae need yer protection."_

_"Aye, spoken like a true Highlander." The man took a long pull of his freshly poured ale._

_The man who came from the shadows was beginning to irritate him. "Who are ye?"_

_"Hugues de Payens." He took another long swallow of ale. "I and my brethren," he motioned over to a corner of the room, "offer you our protection in reaching the holy land. We are the Knights Templar."_

_It was like a cold hand reaching up and slapping him right upside the head. He had heard about the Templars and how they helped folks. They were brave knight-warriors, a wealthy military religious order._

_Although he was impressed by the mere appearance of the man, something was unsettling. How did Hugues know who he was?_

_As if the man had read his thoughts, he began to explain. "It's been written in the scrolls that a Dragonkine warrior would cross our path and become the ninth Templar. Conall, my friend, this is your next journey in life. Join us."_

_Skeptical, Conall sat silent for a while. True, he needed to fulfill his quest, yet could he trust these men? Without a doubt, with their help, his journey wouldn't be as daunting compared to going alone. His wife and son needed to be laid to rest, and for that reason alone, he would join the Templars._

_Conall rubbed the tension from his neck. "Aye, I'll join ye, but as soon as me quest is complete, I'm on me own. Understood?"_

_The Templar rubbed his hands over his white-robed thighs and grinned. "Aye."_ As the image of his wife came back into view, he recalled how much he'd changed. Before Ann, he'd been alone and angry, stranded in a human world without his Kine. King MacAlpin, king of the Scots, had slaughtered his people and destroyed his kingdom. He'd lost so much that he was positive the elders had damned him for eternity.

Even though the king of Scots had left behind seven Dragonkine warriors to serve him, they had parted ways, broken and angry. The pain and loss was unbearable, which had led Conall down his path of destruction. He battled with rage and he didn't care what side he fought on as long as he was killing humans.

But Ann had changed everything. She'd brought light to his darkness. She was the air he breathed.

Aye, there had been a time when life had been good. Alas, it had been no more than a blink of an eye.

After his wife and son's death, he didn't want to slip back into the dark past. He had to move on. In honor of his late wife, for he knew Ann would be proud of him, he joined the Templars and fought for the greater good.

But all good things come to an end for a damned dragon.

Life had been good in France, until The Templars had become an economic threat to many kings. Conall had made it out of France just before the men he fought with were imprisoned for alleged crimes ranging from devil worship to homosexuality. The allegations burned Conall's soul. These men were honest and courageous, and he loathed the fact that he couldn't rescue them. One man, who had to keep his dragon secret, standing against the country of France, well, the odds were not in his favor. He'd had to flee to Scotland to avoid the same fate as his brethren.

Ann interrupted his inner musings. "Conall, ye have been forgiven a long time ago. Ye need to find love again and become whole. Yer dragon needs peace, me love."

Conall wished it was that easy to forgive himself but he couldn't. No matter how many times he'd tried to overcome the unbearable pain of losing his wife and son and the men who'd showed him a better life, he would never allow himself happiness, nor put another loved one in harm's way as long as he lived. Which, for an immortal, would be a very long time.

His beautiful wife took his head in her hands and looked into his eyes. "Do ye think it's fair to the red-headed lass ye've been courting? Ye must do the right thing and make an honest woman of her."

He hadn't quite thought about it like that. Keeping his and Effie's passion-filled jaunts a secret was the only way he knew to keep her safe and protect her from his enemies. Not once had he thought of how Effie might feel.

"I must go. Please heed me words and do the honorable thing, marry that lass."

When Conall looked back, her ghostly form was beginning to fade. Desperately, he tried to hold onto her, but his hands passed right through her disappearing body. "Tell Thomas that his da loves him verra much." A tear slid from his eye as he saw Ann smile right before she crumbled into smoldering ash and vanished into the air like smoke.

Now the warrior sat alone in his bedchamber, dazed and confused. The message had been firm. Marry Effie or let her go. He enjoyed the lass thoroughly. His dragon craved her relentlessly. But loving her could very well be the death of him.

Sitting up, Conall ran his hands through his hair and exhaled in frustration. Mayhap after a warm bath and with food in his belly he would be able to make the right decision.

After spending too much time in the bath, Conall climbed out of the tub, dried himself off, donned his kilt, tunic, and laced his boots. He grabbed his jerkin before he left his bedchamber. Not being able to commit one way or the other to Effie, frustration began to sour his mood. The more he thought about breaking her heart, the more he cursed himself for being a bastard.

Quickly, Conall descended the stairs leading into the great hall, slipping on his jerkin. Winter was upon them and it had been a bitter one. Being a storm dragon, Conall's powers came in handy. He'd cloaked Black Stone on the Hill and its surrounding village by redirecting the worst of the weather away from them, yet the cold still bit back frigidly. James, Laird of Angus and the Dragonkine commander, was quite thankful for his best friend's special abilities, for his wife, Abigale, was with child and working in the village as the clan's surgeon.

As he entered the great hall, empty trenchers were scattered about the tables indicating he'd missed the morning meal. Indeed, he'd pondered his situation with Effie for too long. It was time he found her and put an end to this torture. The sooner it was over, he could move on and concentrate on business. James had informed him that there was trouble brewing.

Clan Lockhart, a strong supporter of Robert the Bruce and allies of Clan Douglas, had missing cattle and their border was being breached by another neighboring clan. Conall and a few men were to leave on the morrow to investigate before a feud broke out _. Holy hell! Why can't there be peace for just one day?_

Chatter from the kitchen brought Conall's attention back to Effie. She had to be in there with Alice and Abigale, he thought. The three women were inseparable. Ever since Abigale had arrived at Black Stone on the Hill, the lassies had become close, forming a sisterly bond. Effie had told him numerous times that she'd finally got the sister she'd always wanted, and that Alice reminded her of her ma.

Sweat beaded across his forehead and his heart raced as he thought about how he was going to make it to that kitchen. As soon as she saw him, she would know what was going on. Effie could read him like a book. Not to mention, Alice and Abigale would have a few sharp words, scolding him for the bastard he was.

Conall began to pace, then finally he cursed himself a coward and started to approach the kitchen. As he crossed the threshold, Abigale greeted him. "Good morn, Conall."

"Good morn, ladies." He bowed his head.

"Someone missed the morning meal." Alice smiled and winked at Abigale as she chopped carrots.

"Aye, I do believe ye're right. Do ye suppose we have extra food for our belated guest?" Abigale said.

"Nay, Lennox and Mahboon cleaned up after the men left, but I'm sure an oatcake or two are left. Though probably stale by now."

Conall grinned in amusement as he leaned his shoulder against the wall. His tension eased as he realized he wouldn't be confronting Effie, at least not yet. He folded his arms across his chest. Abigale and Alice were relentless with their teasing. It was frowned upon to miss the morning meal. It was an act of rudeness, as Alice would say.

Alice placed her knife down and walked toward a counter where a steaming trencher of porridge sat. She grabbed the provisions and walked toward Conall. "Here." Alice sat the bowl down on a small table used for chopping in the center of the kitchen. "Grab a chair and dinnae be late again," she scolded.

"Aye, please accept me most humble apology." Conall grabbed a chair and brought it over to the table. He sat down to eat. "Hmm, Alice. 'Tis good," he said with his mouth full.

Alice shook her head and began chopping again.

"James and Rory are on top of the battlements teaching Niven archery. Will ye be joining them?" Abigale asked.

_Niven? Archery?_ Now that was a dangerous combination. The lad, God bless his soul, had a nervous tick. Seeing his mum murdered had left the lad a bit on the jumpy side.

"Nay," Conall wiped his mouth, "I was wondering where Effie may be."

"Oh, she's down in the bailey fetching the lock and key the smith made for Alice," Abigale said.

Alice pointed her knife at Conall. "Aye, that should keep the wee bugger out of me oatcakes."

Niven was also well known for sneaking into the kitchen and stealing Alice's special oatcakes. The only reason Alice didn't bend the lad over her knee and swat his bum was because Laird James loved him like a son. Niven admired James, and the young lad couldn't have had a better role model.

Conall stopped mid-chew. "Effie went to see the smith? Alone?"

"Aye," Abigale confirmed.

'Twas not good. He began to panic. The lasses swooned over the smith, for he was known for his good looks, and charm. There was a rumor the man was well-endowed. Not that Conall was jealous. For Christ's sake, he was a dragon, but when it came to Effie, he didn't trust the blacksmith and his sly antics.

Conall shot up, causing the chair to slide and smash against the stone wall. "Excuse me. I must go."

Walking out of the door leading to the bailey, he pulled his cloak up around his neck as he passed Alice's herb garden, now withered, touched by the bite of winter. He made his way to the smithy.

Conall didn't have to go far, for the shop was close. Besides the smith's reputation with lasses, he was one hell of a craftsman when it came to armor; he could forge the finest weapons and the strongest swords. James had declared him the smith of the Dragonkine and gave him a forge close to the castle.

Conall rounded the corner and his heart dropped. Effie was entering the blacksmith's shop.

To continue Conall and Effie's story, pick up a copy of Highland Storm, Guardians of Scotland Book 2:

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**About Victoria Zak**

Victoria Zak is an internationally bestselling author of historical and contemporary romance. She weaves magic into her timeless tales, reminding readers anything is possible, especially with a dragon by your side. Raised in Dunedin, Florida, the sister city to Stirling, Scotland, no wonder she grew up fascinated with anything Scottish. Add the ocean into the mix, and it's easy to see where Victoria found inspiration for her stories.

As a child, she read anything she could get her hands on, which developed into full-scale book addiction by adulthood. Curious by nature, Victoria doesn't shy away from anything. She enjoys historical research and hanging out at the nearest coffee shop. Victoria currently resides in Maryland with her real-life heroes, her husband and two children.

Victoria loves to hear from her readers. You can connect with her through the links below:

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# Books by Victoria Zak

**Guardians of Scotland Series:**

Highland Burn

Highland Storm

Highland Fate

Highland Destiny

Highland Hope

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**Ember Brooke Series:**

Scorched Hearts

Hearts Under Fire

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**Daughters of Highland Darkness Series:**

Beautiful Darkness

Deadly Darkness

Wicked Darkness

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**Hell's Cowboys Series:**

My Immortal Cowboy

**Stand Alones:**

Once Upon a Winter Solstice

The Jewel of Grim Fortress

Midnight's Kiss
