Chapter Twelve

ARCHER

Having spent more time with Ollie, I'd changed my mind about him. I was now almost sure that he was exactly what he seemed and not a covert operative for the Shaws—I didn't think anyone could fake his level of enthusiasm constantly. It threw into stark contrast how dark and grim my life had been for so many years.

I didn't understand my reaction to Ollie. I should find his enthusiasm, chatter and unrepentant bounciness annoying. Instead, I'd somehow let him draw me into his excitement over the donkeys. Donkeys. What the hell was so exciting about them?

The way Ollie saw the world compared to the way I did reminded me of the difference between dragon sight and human sight. Dragons saw only in shades of grey, and, for a moment this afternoon, I'd realised that I'd stopped seeing colour in human form as well. I'd looked at the miniature donkeys, with Ollie breathing beside my ear as I'd leaned over him, and for that instant, the world had felt exciting and welcoming, not an enemy to be controlled and guarded against.

In the kitchen, I'd come so close to touching him. I couldn't work out if it was because I was attracted to him or if it was my dragon, urging me to take and hoard. I'd known other copper dragons, though, and they'd never caused an impulse like this one.

It didn't matter. Whatever the reason for my longing, I couldn't do it. There was no way he'd be able to say no to the head of the family he'd been forced to stay with, and I wasn't putting either of us in that position.

I had to stop getting distracted like this, as if he were pulling me into his ridiculous, enthusiastic orbit. If I could just stop looking at Ollie, everything would be fine.

OLLIE

Archer had effortlessly navigated the maze of one-way streets to park in the middle of the city. Leaving the car, he steered us to a pedestrian area, where he turned to me. "I'll see you back at the Great Hall in an hour. If that isn't long enough, I can bring you into town again, or you could get the bus—it goes past the house."

He wasn't offering me the use of his car, which I was relieved about because I'd failed my test four times, and I didn't want to confess that to him. "Thanks," I said. "Er, where's the Great Hall?"

He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to see the stone building towering over us with a sign outside saying The Great Hall . "See that big building just there?"

"Oh," I said. Maybe I should have been embarrassed, but all I could think of was his large hands holding me. I imagined I could feel their warmth even through my jacket.

"So what is the Great Hall? Other than a great hall." I was desperate for him to keep holding me, to keep talking so I could hear that deep, slightly growly voice so close against my ear.

"The Hall is the only part of the mediaeval castle that's still standing. It's where King Arthur's Round Table is."

Surprised, I turned in his hold. We were inches apart, and as I looked up into his face, his eyes were darker than usual and intent on—was he looking at my mouth?

If he was, that didn't last long. He took a step backwards as he said, "Not the real Round Table, of course. It's a thirteenth-century fake."

"Does it count as a fake if it's that old?"

But the moment between us had gone, and he couldn't wait to get away from me.

"An hour," he said, and strode off, long coat swinging.

ARCHER

No matter how tempting Ollie was, I couldn't. I had to make his visit a success.

And now I had to introduce him to the family. Most of them were solid and sensible and wouldn't tattle to an outsider, however personable and easy to talk to. But Chris and June? I didn't trust them an inch. They'd say anything if it showed me in a bad light, and all the better if it was to an outsider. If they did the unthinkable and left the family to set up a rival branch of the Talbots, they could talk Ollie round. He'd tell his family how wonderful they were, and not only would I have failed to hold my family together but they'd be seen as the real Talbots.

Not for the first time, I wished my father was still here. Everyone loved Dad. Everyone except his bank manager, which was why we had so few original paintings left at the Court. If Dad were still alive, Chris and June wouldn't even be thinking about splitting. They'd never forgiven me for taking over the headship when I was so young.

None of this was helping me decide how to handle our meeting later. I headed for a coffee shop. Maybe a triple espresso would get my brain working.

OLLIE

The hour flew past. I didn't have time to look for the best shops, so I went into a department store that my mum favoured for socks, undies, and a thick wool jumper. I looked at the price and promptly put the jumper back. A fleece would do the same job for a fraction of the cost.

I needed jeans. Quitting that store, where I'd been the youngest customer by about forty years, at last I found some decent shops. I bought some dark rinse low-rise jeans that looked awesome on me and picked up some tops, making sure I had a mix of full-length and crop tops to cover all eventualities.

Maybe not all my choices were practical for staying in a freezing, old mansion and digging the garden, but I had to look my best. All the more so after Archer had—had he really been looking at my mouth earlier? I didn't usually miss a trick when it came to other guys' signals, but he'd stalked off straight afterwards as if he couldn't stand my presence an instant longer, so I wasn't sure.

I wanted him to like me. I so wanted him to like me. Even if he didn't want to bang me, I wanted him to approve of me. Oh, sod it, who was I kidding? I wanted him to like me and to bang me.

My need to get Archer's attention led me way off-script when it came to shoes. The moment I saw them, I had to have them, even though I couldn't afford them. Stunning boots in black leather with a Cuban heel that made my arse look amazing . I'd liked being shorter than Archer when he'd been behind me, holding my shoulders, but when I'd turned to face him, I could have done with the extra couple of inches the heels gave me. It would make it so much easier to reach up and kiss him .

I couldn't do that. I knew I couldn't. If nothing else, Jack would crucify me.

But I bought the boots anyway.

* * *

When Archer parked outside the fourth house, he looked weary. I wasn't sure how old he was. Originally, I'd thought mid-thirties, but having seen that stern expression lighten when he laughed over the stolen chip, I thought he was some years younger than that.

Now, he looked old and careworn. He rubbed his hand through his hair, a gesture I hadn't seen him use before and which looked unexpectedly uncertain.

"This is the last stop," he said.

I wasn't sorry. All the Talbots I'd met so far had been more welcoming than I'd expected, perhaps because their head of family was looming protectively over me, but the sheer number of dragons had become overwhelming. I'd never remember all their names.

Archer's announcement about the discovery of the Berstow dragon family had distracted from my presence a little. He'd promised to keep them all informed when he spoke to the Berstows and found out more about dragon history and, perhaps, their own family history.

At the previous house, a cute guy had flirted with me. Normally, I'd have found a way to sneak off somewhere for a quickie, but I hadn't even been tempted—he seemed young and callow next to Archer. It felt uncomfortably like looking in a mirror. It wasn't just the power and authority and strength in Archer that were so hot. I mean, it was all of those things, but there was something more. And I wasn't talking about his shoulders. His laughter had softened his face, and I wanted to see that more often rather than its usual harsh lines.

"Last one," Archer said to me again as he rang the doorbell of the executive-style house with a double garage. The biggest house we'd been to so far, and I wondered how many more names I'd have to remember. Unlike the previous houses, there weren't small children pressing their noses against the windows, eagerly watching for us. I'd taken to waving at them as we'd walked up, resulting in shrieks of delight. This house, by comparison, looked deserted.

The woman who opened the door was dressed as if she was expecting royalty to come calling. Or maybe as if she were royalty. Her hair was beautifully styled, soft chestnut waves falling onto the purple silk shoulders of her dress, and she wore a string of pearls that obviously hadn't come from a pound shop. High-heeled purple shoes and a surprised expression completed the outfit.

She swiftly wiped the shock from her face, and stood taller, her rigid expression marring her beauty and making her look older than the late-thirties she'd appeared at first. She'd scarcely looked at me—her attention was on Archer.

"Archer. This is unexpected." Her tone could have frozen hot chocolate. Her eyes eventually flicked to me, weighing and assessing. After far too long, she stood back and invited us in.

"Chris!" she called up the stairs as Archer ushered me into the living room. "Archer's here."

We were joined by a nondescript man in his forties with dark hair greying at the temples. His build was similar enough to Archer's to proclaim the family relationship, but he was quite a bit smaller.

"Archer," he said neutrally.

Neither made any attempt to shake the other's hand. I didn't know what was going on, but this was the most interesting visit we'd made so far, that was for sure. I itched to text Jack about it.

Archer introduced me to June and Chris Talbot, and explained to them the experiment the moot had decided on. It was clearly news to them, unlike the other family members, all of whom had gathered specifically to meet me.

"You agreed to this?" June's voice was acidic.

I was getting the distinct impression she wasn't Archer's biggest fan. They hadn't even offered us a seat.

"As it happens, no, but it was the will of the moot."

Chris scoffed and turned away. I didn't know how they were related to Archer, but such disrespect to the head of family was unheard of. To show it in front of a stranger, one from a different dragon family, blew my mind.

"We have a guest." The bass throbbing in Archer's voice went straight to my dick despite the dangerous tone. Or perhaps because of the dangerous tone.

Chris stood with his back to Archer an instant longer, then turned. "Of course," he said. "How do you do, Ollie?"

"Hi," I said.

"Ollie, would you like to come and help me make a cup of tea for everyone?" June said. "Archer, please have a seat. Chris, take his coat. Ollie's as well."

I followed her into a big, modern kitchen, with sweeping granite surfaces decorated by stainless steel gadgets. June didn't appear to need help with the tea, but she took the opportunity to ask me about my family and how I was settling in at the Court. She hoped Archer was making me welcome.

She even asked for my number, which was kind of uncomfortable. "After all, the idea is to get to know one another while you're here."

After we'd swapped numbers, I offered to carry the laden tea tray through to the living room. I was trying to be polite, but mostly I wanted to get back to Archer.

Chris pulled out a table from a nest of tables, and I was relieved to put the tray down so that the bone china cups and saucers finally stopped rattling.

The tension in the room was palpable, making me wonder what the conversation had been while we were in the kitchen. June handed out the cups of tea, which seemed to help the strained atmosphere. Especially when Archer looked at the tea that had slopped into his saucer when I'd carried the tray and the lines in his brow smoothed for an instant.

I perched on the edge of my seat, sipping tea, acutely uncomfortable as Archer gave his by-now-familiar account of the Berstow family.

Chris's eyes were hard as he said obliquely, "Getting our hands on that history might answer a few questions."

"You know what? It might." Archer rose to his feet and put his half-finished cup of tea to one side. "Come on, Ollie."

Once outside the house and back in the car, I drew the first deep breath for a while. "They looked like they were dressed up to go somewhere," I said, because I didn't dare tell him what I thought of jerk Chris and over-friendly June.

"That's how June is," he said. "If I'd asked her to come to the two-day moot, she'd have brought at least five suitcases crammed with clothes."

Which raised a question I'd been pondering while I'd met the family. I had no idea what the hierarchy was, other than Archer was head. "Are they senior members of the family?"

He glanced sideways at me, a hard, assessing, suspicious glance, before he sighed. "Senior by virtue of influence, yes. Chris is a Talbot; June was a high-ranking Smythe. In line to the headship? No. The current line of succession goes from me to Tim, to Mia, unless Tim or I have children."

"Are you likely to have children?" It spilled out of me in horror at the thought of Archer married to someone who wasn't me and having lots of stern, growly babies with them.

"No," he said, and the finality in his tone shut me up for the rest of the drive home.

It didn't stop me thinking, though. Most especially about why Archer was so certain he wasn't going to have children. Up until this moment, it had never occurred to me he might have a significant other, but I was fairly sure that wasn't the case. After all, I'd been here more than twenty-four hours and there'd been neither sign nor mention of one.

Maybe Archer wasn't straight. My heart flip-flopped at the thought he might be gay or bi. Adopted or step kids wouldn't inherit the headship because succession was by blood. Which, now I came to think of it, was another way dragon society was deeply weird. We needed to join the modern world.

Or maybe there was another reason, one I hadn't been able to think of. I sat quietly, studying his face, the harsh lines that had deepened at June and Chris's, and I wondered whether I'd ever get to know him.

ARCHER

Ollie was a lot brighter and more insightful than he appeared, and there was no way he'd have missed the tension in that room. I should be thankful June and Chris hadn't expressed outright their view that any worthy head of family would have been able to influence the will of the moot.

Perhaps it was time to bring this thing between us to a head instead of ignoring it in the hope the family could stay together. If I forced a confrontation, I didn't know how many of my family would side with me. I had their obedience and, to some extent, their trust, but I had no idea if they respected me or if they thought I was doing a good job at looking after everyone.

All I knew was that it was my birthright and I had to try.

I was relieved that Kim had seemed excited to represent the family when I'd spoken to her. The pairing of families at the moot had been randomised, and I'd drawn the Bonds as the family our representative would stay with. They'd been understanding about the fact my only delegate was a minor and that I'd send a family member to them once I got home.

I only realised that we were back at the Court and that I was glaring at the lighted windows through the windscreen when Ollie cleared his throat.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Releasing my clenched hands from the steering wheel, I breathed slowly. Yes, something was wrong, but he didn't deserve for me to bite his head off for asking. I'd heard the nervousness in his voice. He knew he was treading close to disrespect, yet he'd still asked.

"Supper?" I suggested, as I climbed out of the car.

"Thank God," he said. "I'm starving. June didn't even offer us any biscuits. I know I shouldn't criticise my hosts, but don't you think that's kind of basic if you're making tea? Though I suppose I did have a few biscuits at the other houses, so I shouldn't complain."

I still wasn't sure how Ollie had managed to decimate the chocolate biscuits on offer while not losing a beat when talking to family members.

"Mia's cooking tonight, so you might be glad of those biscuits," I told him.

"Oh," he said doubtfully. "Is it that bad?"

"She's learning," I said. "Slowly."

"I mean, I shouldn't judge. Last time I made a cake, I forgot to put the flour in."

I choked. "Flour? You forgot the flour ?"

He grinned. "Even the birds didn't want it. Hey, maybe I should cook for your ducks and poison them accidentally."

"That would have looked more accidental if you hadn't told me your plan," I pointed out as we crossed the bridge to the familiar oak door.

"Well, shit. There goes my career as an elite undercover assassin," he said, his grin broadening.

I had no idea how Ollie found enjoyment in the smallest things. I only knew how much I envied him for it.