Chapter Eight

NATE

Weekday breakfasts at the Fortescues were a casual affair. I'd heard the snarl of the Ferrari earlier and assumed Steven had gone to work, as, presumably, had Charlie. If James had gone too, perhaps we'd have an opportunity to search his study again.

I coincided at the breakfast table with some of the Teagues, although Alex wasn't among them. They were openly evaluating me as a possible partner, and I had to make it clear that I wasn't interested. There must be a better, more natural way of getting dragon families to mix rather than this intense and hideously artificial atmosphere.

But I'd never be in a position to suggest doing things differently. Bim knew how he wanted to run the family, and he did so with talons of steel. It occurred to me that I should report to him my findings so far, inconclusive as they were.

I was aware of someone settling into the chair beside me. Somehow, I didn't have to look to know it was Alex.

"What are you doing today?" he asked, splitting the brioche on his plate.

"Another research trip around Bath," I told him. "Do you have any plans?"

"Thought I'd come with you," he said. "I never knew how interesting Jane Austen could be."

Fiona, sitting across the table from us, laughed, loud and bright. "My God, Alex—just ask him out already. No one buys this Jane Austen crap."

"Shut up, brat," Alex told her. He turned to me, amusement in his face. "Nate Mortimer, will you accompany me on a tour of Bath today?"

"I suppose I could." I wasn't going to stroke his ego by agreeing too enthusiastically, even though it was only a cover story. The fact I felt enthusiastic about having his company was a different matter. I'd enjoyed looking around the museum with him.

Soon after breakfast, we set out for the house where Jane Austen had lived. There was no danger of Ella inviting herself along as she'd gone to a cousin's house for tutoring. I'd been right about her age—she was studying for A Levels and was still being home-schooled. Dragons, of course, were banned from mixing with humans until they were safely past puberty and the danger of out-of-control hormones causing an incident. It took time to learn full control over giveaways such as smoke, or vertical pupils showing in the eyes when emotions ran high, and even the least observant human would notice those. None of us were permitted to socialise with anyone except fellow dragons until we were old enough to start work or attend uni. Which, in retrospect, might explain how wild Charlie and I had gone at our first taste of freedom in the big, wide world.

Alex told me Charlie had been uninterested in his Arthurian heritage to the point of insult. "Unless he's an amazing liar, I don't think he knows anything about his father's plan."

I was glad of that. I'd hate Charlie to be plotting to take my family down. "He should be involved in any scheme as he's next-in-line to be head of the family. But after we got together, he was excised from a lot of private family business in case he accidentally let something slip to me, so perhaps he's never been quite trusted since." I frowned. "Who's that Tom Fortescue the emails were from? The name's naggingly familiar, though I can't place him."

"Add that to our list of things to find out." Alex sounded excited at the prospect.

I glanced at him as we walked down the hill to the city centre. He was enjoying this, unlike me. I didn't want to be here, sneaking around, lying to the people who'd once practically been my family. But when I thought about going back to London, to a life that consisted solely of work and clubbing, with no prospect of anything ever changing, that felt no better.

My phone sounded, underlining my bleak thoughts. No one except Rufus had messaged me in the two days I'd been here. I didn't really have any friends anymore—Charlie had kept the party crowd we used to run with, which was fair. They'd been his friends really. My family tolerated me, and that was the best I could say.

The message was from Charlie. He'd sent me a dick pic with the caption "Thinking of you".

"What is it?" Alex asked, a note of concern in his voice that made me wonder what was showing on my face.

It was ridiculous that a simple dick pic changed my life, but that was what happened. Something inside me, some tiny flame that I'd tended all these years despite my hurt over what Charlie had said and done, sputtered out. At that moment, I saw Charlie clearly. He was full of charm, life and fun, but everything he did was about him. I didn't know if he'd changed or if I'd changed. What I did know was that I didn't love him anymore. I'd asked him for one thing—time—and he wouldn't even give me that.

The loss was like a physical blow. I turned away from Alex, shading my eyes against the low autumn sun to look out at the city, willing the wetness to fade. It was only for a moment, then I was back in control.

"I need to call Bim," I said. "Give me a minute, and I'll catch up with you."

He wasn't looking at me any longer, though his expression was still concerned. Perhaps he was giving me privacy. If so, it was a thoughtfulness I wasn't used to.

"See you on Pulteney Bridge in a few," he said, and strode down the hill. I watched him go before turning my attention to my phone. I needed to have all my wits about me to deal with my grandfather.

ALEX

It looked as if Nate had received some catastrophically bad news, but presumably he'd have told me if it was related to our scheme. I made my way towards our meeting place, dodging the eager tourists already thronging the streets. Much like being at home, except for the lack of sheep.

Nate joined me ten minutes later, showing no trace of the devastation that had briefly chased across his face.

"No developments," he reported. "Other than the attacks on the banks growing more sophisticated as they learn how Bim's hackers are defending them."

"Your grandfather employs hackers?" I didn't know why I was surprised. I doubted most bankers played by the rules the rest of us poor plebs had to. "Hey, couldn't we get them to install spyware on your phone, and then you could clone the family's phones while we mix with them?"

"Bim explored that with his hackers and decided against it for a number of reasons. Not least among them, if someone were to take my phone and find out what I was doing, all hell would break loose."

Fair enough. Easy answers were rarely the right ones.

"I'm going to have to leave my phone somewhere conspicuous once I've made some research notes, so that James can examine it," Nate said. "He can satisfy himself that I'm taking this research seriously and check for any hint of ulterior motives behind my presence."

"You called your grandfather," I reminded him.

"Not an issue. I've deleted the call."

We reached Jane Austen's house, only to find it looked like a house. I'm not sure what more I was expecting, but thirty seconds' inspection was enough for both of us.

"Coffee?" I'd quickly discovered that Bath was full of coffee shops, and some of them had mouth-watering cakes on display in the window. And, for some reason, I wasn't in a hurry to lose Nate's company.

We found a cosy little coffee shop that offered a variety of different roasts. Not that I was bothered—coffee was coffee—but Nate made a sound of approval when he saw the blackboard behind the counter, and he spent a little while choosing what to order.

"I suppose I'd better do some research," Nate said reluctantly, watching me shovel down chocolate cake at a rate of knots. "Why did I think this was a good cover story?"

"You could always go light on the Regency research and heavy on the sex," I suggested, trying to be helpful.

Laughter flashed through his eyes, and then something in him changed. He glanced up at me from under his eyelashes, his eyes glinting invitingly in the most blatant come-on I'd had in a long time.

"Tell me more about researching sex," he invited, his voice low and with that purring note again.

It went straight to my cock, and I had to subtly adjust myself in my jeans under the table.

"I'm at your disposal if you want a research subject," I said. Not exactly lightning repartee, but in my defence, I was so turned on that my brain wasn't getting any blood.

"I'll bear that in mind," he said, his eyes practically undressing me and leaving me hot and bothered.

My phone vibrated, breaking the moment. Just another Teague family WhatsApp message. Margaret couldn't have waited five more minutes, till I knew if this attraction to Nate was going anywhere?

Nate had turned his attention to his own phone, our brief flirtation seemingly forgotten. My stomach safely filled, I sprawled comfortably in my chair and watched him typing furiously. His hair fell across his brow as his head ducked over his phone, and I had a sudden urge to reach out and sweep it back.

I shouldn't like him. Physical attraction was one thing, but he was a banker. He was rich, entitled—look at how politely yet remotely he spoke to Mr Taylor—and he was completely at home with the Fortescues. Yet I was enjoying spending time with him. And he shared my sense of humour. Damn it, I liked him.

Belatedly realising I could help him with his alibi, I started looking into Regency-era birth control. I sent my resulting wall of text through to his phone. He looked up when he got it, lips parted slightly in surprise, which wasn't reducing my desire to jump him.

"Thought it might be useful," I said. "Delete it if not."

His brown eyes were warm as he smiled at me. I was mesmerised by them for a moment, before he looked back at his phone.

Somehow, that glance had left me more breathless than his come-on had. Yeah, I wanted to screw him. But as much as I wanted that, I wanted him to smile at me again, the way he had just now—warm and genuine. It was a world away from the practised smiles I'd seen him employ with the Fortescues last night. It felt as if it was just for me.

This was ridiculous. I couldn't spend the rest of the morning staring at him like a moon-struck calf.

"Ready to move on to Sydney Gardens?" I asked.

Sydney Gardens was one of the places that Austen used to frequent. It was boring, though Nate's company made up for that. As we wandered around looking at trees, grass, and some old buildings, he asked where in Cornwall I was from and what it was like.

I told him about the wildness and the beauty. Winter storms could be savage, blown in from the Atlantic, yet in summer it was like paradise.

"I mean, I've spent my life there, so I'd be bound to think this, but it's different from anywhere else." I glanced swiftly around, making sure no one would overhear what I was about to say. "There's a feeling there I can't explain. It's as if dragons belong there…as if it's our ancestral home."

Nate's eyebrows rose, and I wanted to kick myself. Banker. London banker. Friend of the Fortescues. Why the hell had I trusted him with an idea that I'd only ever shared with Margaret? His company was so easy, I'd forgotten who he was.

But he didn't laugh at me. He didn't even make an excuse to get away from the uneducated yokel who believed in myths and legends. "Didn't the Celts in Wales and Cornwall stay independent of the Anglo-Saxons?" he said. "I think they did, and Wales is mythologically Dragon Central, so I wouldn't be surprised if you're picking up on something real. I wouldn't know. The closest I've ever been to Cornwall is a Cornish pasty, and I'm afraid I didn't like that."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You poor deprived sod. You need educating."

Step one of Nate's education involved taking him to the pasty shop I'd found on my first day in the city. They made real Cornish pasties, unlike the one he'd encountered, I guessed. Golden pastry was stuffed with meat and vegetables in just the right proportions and with the perfect amount of salt and pepper.

"It's not long until lunch," he protested, though that didn't stop him from taking the pasty I handed him.

We walked through the streets, eating steaming hot pasties as I told him all the reasons he needed to visit Cornwall. I covered everything except one thing, which was how much I'd like him there with me, swimming in the wild seas and exploring long-lost shipwrecks on the sea floor before ending up in my bed.

My monologue trailed off as I realised, damn it, this was what I always did. I met someone I liked, and almost before we'd said hello, I'd fallen for them. Most of the guys I met were holidaymakers, so anything we started was guaranteed not to last. I'd been fifteen the first time I'd fallen in love. Ben had been visiting with his family from Leicester, and we'd spent every minute we could together. He swore he'd stay in touch when he returned home, and I'd believed him. Right up until he blocked my number.

No matter how many times it had happened after that, I still hadn't learned. I kept giving my heart away, and it seemed that each time I got it back, there was another piece missing.

The worst part of thinking like this about Nate was that I knew upfront what he was. What he undoubtedly thought of me and my family. Yet I still wanted to spend time with him. I'd enjoyed our morning together.

"What should our next move be?" Nate's question roused me from my thoughts. "I doubt we'll be lucky enough to get into the study again."

Little did he know. "Margaret's getting the others out of the house this afternoon so we'll have a clear run. She's taking them to an organ recital at the abbey."

Nate laughed. "I'm sure they'll love having to sit on hard pews in silence instead of flirting or testing sexual compatibility."

"And yet they'll still enjoy it more than Margaret. She's tone deaf."

He grinned as he screwed up his grease-sodden paper bag and chucked it in the bin we were passing.

"Your verdict on the pasty?"

"I liked it," he said. "It was quite different from the one I had before. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage lunch, though."

"Oh, that's ages off," I said. Plenty of time left to work up an appetite. "This afternoon, will you stand guard if I search the study? I want to get into that desk and find out why it's locked."

"Of course." His response was a welcome change to his suspicion of just the day before. "But how are you going to get into the desk?"

"Pick the locks."

Nate stared at me. "How do you know how to do that? Are you a professional spy, and this story about King Arthur is a ruse?"

Laughter shook me so that I couldn't speak for a moment. Me, a professional anything? "I wish. At least MI5 would pay well. Didn't you learn how to pick locks when you were growing up? I thought every kid did."

"Not in my family," he said.

His sunniness had suddenly clouded, and I wondered what his family was like. The Mortimers existed in a different world to mine. They practically ran dragon society, and Nate's grandfather, Abimelech Mortimer, was one of the richest men on the planet. No one crossed him, whether they were human or dragon. But Nate, despite being a Mortimer, wasn't like the Fortescues. Okay, so he had the same posh accent as them, and something about the way he carried himself screamed privilege, but there was an ease between us, as if he was the same as me. Just a bit richer.

"Maybe it's only those of us who live in the back of beyond who learn to pick locks—we have to fill the time somehow," I said. "I should buy a blocking case for my phone on the way back to the house, and then I can take photos of everything for you to look at later."

"You're not just a pretty face, are you?" he said teasingly, before his lips tightened as if he regretted saying that. "We'd better head back."

NATE

The first time I'd seen Alex, I'd thought he was hot. I was finding out that was nothing to how he looked when he laughed. I hadn't been able to stop myself from flirting with him, and then I'd remembered why that was a stunningly bad idea.

It was becoming more difficult to remember that whenever he looked at me with laughter in his eyes. I was glad to get back to the house and gain a little distance from him so I could control this ridiculous level of attraction I felt.

I'd hoped to have the opportunity to catch up with Mrs Fortescue over lunch, but she was already deep in conversation. Instead, I turned my attention to the Teagues who were beside me. Enyon was withdrawn at first, though he opened up when I asked him about Cornwall, using what Alex had told me as a hook. Fiona, seated on my other side, certainly wasn't shy. She was acerbic, though she didn't turn it on Enyon. I wondered if she was kinder than her sharp tongue made her seem.

As well as talking to them, I found myself watching Alex across the table. Our pasty expedition didn't seem to have affected his appetite. Although he made swift work of his meal, he was also speaking to the dragons around him. It was achingly clear that he had little in common with the Fortescue cousin on his right, but he was trying. She, however, wasn't. She couldn't have made it more insultingly obvious that he was beneath her notice.

"Alex, how would you feel about another research trip tomorrow? I thought we could visit the fashion museum."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I wanted to beat my head against the table. Another museum was bad enough. One about fashion? What the hell had I been thinking? Oh, yes. I'd been thinking that he was being made to feel uncomfortable by a conceited dragon who'd been born into money and thought that was the only measure of a person.

"You want to look at old clothes?" Alex's voice was full of laughter. "Really?"

"I have to find out how breeches unfasten," I pointed out. "For research," I added swiftly as Fiona's eyes narrowed at me. "For my book. Which Alex is helping me research."

"Would you like a spade to help you dig that hole?" Alex asked.

Although his eyes were alight with amusement, they held a warmth, as if he knew what I'd been doing. The dragon next to him certainly understood my implicit rebuke. As she should. She was a minor Fortescue and I was a Mortimer. She was now smiling at Alex as if she couldn't imagine anything better than being seated beside him.

Alex caught a blast of that smile and returned it uncertainly before looking back at me, eyebrows slightly raised. Perhaps he didn't understand the full power of the Mortimer name. The Mortimers' position in the dragon world was something I used very rarely—I knew the fragility of my position in the family and how little right I had to claim any sort of status. But today, it had been helpful.

"Old clothes it is, then," Alex said. "Can't wait."

Despite the snark, I thought he meant it. I was certainly looking forward to another morning in his company. And we still had this afternoon ahead of us, too, continuing our joint investigation.

I returned my attention to the Teagues on either side of me, but as we talked, I was thinking about Alex. He was easy company, though that didn't explain how much I'd enjoyed spending time with him. Perhaps I'd need to spend more time with him to figure it out.