Chapter Two

Fiona

I barely rememberedthe journey to the stranger's small, dark hut. My dragon-touched eyes normally took in every nuance of my surroundings, but I'd been blinded by a pair of handsome, pale eyes and a warm, seductive smile.

After he'd hung my shawl beside the hearth, he bade me sit on a low wooden stool and handed me a heavy goblet filled with swirling amber liquid. I smiled into the mead, discreetly admiring his finely sculpted form while he stoked the embers of the fire. Though the man seemed to have entranced me, I had enough sense to know what would become of me. He would caress, kiss, and toy with me, making me as pliable as a soft piece of clay. Then he would carry me to his warm furs and make love to me. And I wouldn't do a damned thing to stop him.

I should have thanked the man for the drink and warm fire and then fled. But the effects of the potent mead made my head whirl, carrying away my doubts in a lust-induced current.

My mind told me to fly to the safety of the secret cave Mother and I had once shared, for my mother had warned me that men brought only heartache. In truth, I wanted to flee. But I wanted him more.

His masculine spices—a mixture of sweat, leather, and sage—assailed my senses as he drew near. He sat beside me on the stone hearth, warming his hands in front of the fire.

"Are ye hungry?"

"No." A shiver coursed through me as the scent of desire pulsed off his skin.

He frowned. "Are ye chilled?"

"No," I said, clenching my hands to still my trembling. What had come over me? How had a mere mortal reduced me to a quivering flower?

"Then what can I do for ye, lass?" He clasped my small hands in his, the calluses on his fingers chafing my smooth skin.

I pondered his question. What did I want him to do for me? I wanted him to show me what it felt like to spend the night in the arms of a man. I wanted to feel the intimacy of his mouth on mine, to understand why mortals so easily fell under the spell of desire. But most of all, after six years of traveling alone and missing the familiarity of a kind word or a tender hug, I wanted to feel loved.

I silently stood, unlacing my bodice and letting my dress fall to the floor. I turned up my chin, meeting his shocked gaze with a subtle smile. "Can you make love to me?"

"Aye," he said on a throaty growl. "I can do that."

* * *

Duncan

I COULD SCARCELY BELIEVEmy good fortune as I quickly stripped out of my breeches and laid with the beautiful lass beside the fire, tracing the smooth line of her jaw before trailing down her neck to the swell of her small breast. I cupped her soft mound while feathering a kiss across her full lips. She moaned against me, opening her mouth and welcoming my tongue. We kissed for a long while as I massaged one pebbled breast and then the other.

When she wrapped a leg around my hip, grinding her wet heat into me, I thought my need for her would drive me to the point of bursting. She clutched my shoulders, digging her nails into my flesh when I rolled her over and seated myself between her milky thighs.

I had meant to enter her slowly, but she was having none of it. I had only just probed her with the tip of my length when she thrust her hips upward with a predatory growl.

I was shocked when I burst through her virginal barrier. Panting like a wounded animal, I rested my forehead on hers. "Lass, ye should have told me ye were a maiden." I kissed the tip of her nose, then her cheek, and reluctantly withdrew. "I'm sorry."

She wrapped her legs around me. "Please don't stop."

I groaned and slowly slid back in. "I donna want to stop, but I donna want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me. Love me," she begged. "Love me, please."

"I will. Always," I groaned as we moved together, pairing at the precipice of pleasure.

She gasped, clutching me so tightly, I felt her nails break through my skin. As I gently probed her dripping sex, she let out a moan of delight, raking her fingers down my back and squeezing my buttocks. I could hardly believe this feral lass had been a maiden, and Dear Lord, she felt so heavenly, she had to be a fallen angel. After only a few short strokes, I was close to release.

I feathered kisses down her neck and breathed into her ear. "We must slow down, lass."

"I can't," she grunted, squeezing my buttocks harder and lifting her hips to grind her center against my pulsing shaft.

And then I was undone. With a roar, I drove hard and fast into her. She matched each thrust, growling and hissing like a wild animal.

I had no idea which of us found release first, for our bodies seemed to have become one, thrumming together to the wild pounding of our hearts.

I stilled, pouring into her, sucking in a breath when her tight sheath squeezed me, milking me until I was spent and sated.

I fell on top of her, then rolled onto my side, taking her with me. We kissed and laughed and stroked each other into another frenzy, until my wild lass was astride me. She panted into my mouth, riding me hard until we were both moaning to the heavens.

Time seemed to come to a standstill while we were caught in a web of passion. The more I made love to my flame-haired lass, the more my desire for her grew. We pleasured each other well into the morning, and not a tender, slow dance of love, but a wild bonding of two restless souls, finally finding solace in each other's arms.

* * *

Duncan

SHE LOOKED TOO MUCHlike the girl of my dreams.

I had been careless and impulsive for taking her to bed, but when I awoke with her in my arms, the woman didn't feel like the phantom soul who'd haunted my nightmares.

Nay, she felt sweet and warm and all too real.

More than anything, Fiona felt right.

Chased away the nightmares, she had. Yesternight was the first in six years I'd not had to endure the tortured look in the woman's eyes while she slowly died from the spear I'd thrust through her chest.

I chanced a look at Fiona's sleeping face. A soft moan escaped her throat as I stroked the crook of her arm with the pad of my thumb. She was a beauty. Riotous curls fanned her nude body in crimson waves. She was slender with a small frame, although she was not soft like most females. Her body was firm from labor of some kind.

I remembered the jolt of fear that shot to my gut yester-eve when she'd wandered into the pub. She'd strolled up to the giant knight without care or concern for her own safety. Even from the dark recesses of the shadowed corner where I sat each night, hoping to drink away the memories of that fateful day, I'd seen the determination in her face.

Why had she come to this remote edge of the world, looking for a dragonslayer? I silently hoped her village was not plagued by a dragon, for I knew I'd not have it in my heart to spear another.

Even for her.

A wild thought crossed my mind. I would persuade my amber-eyed lass to stay here with me. I would keep her safe, and perhaps having her in my bed each night, loving her, was what I needed to restore peace to my life.

The lass's eyes fluttered open, twin amber gems with flecks of gold. She smiled up at me, smoothing a slender hand over the stubble on my face.

"Good morrow, lass," I rasped as desire coursed through me. I had a mind to take her again, making love to her the rest of the day.

She stretched her arms above her head, letting the furs fall away from her small, pebbled breasts. "Good morrow."

I instinctively cupped one soft mound, intrigued by the thrumming in the tips of my fingers. "I feel your heart beating as if 'twere my own. You have bewitched me."

Her eyes bulged as she bolted upright. "I am not a witch."

"At ease, lass." I cupped her cheek, stroking her lip. "I know what ye are."

Her jaw dropped. "You do?"

"Aye." I smiled. "An angel sent to chase away my nightmares."

She came to her knees, leaning against me as concern marred her pretty brow. "What bad dreams plague you?"

At once, her worry washed over me. How had I felt her emotion?

"'Tis nothing." I shook my head, trying to clear the odd feeling of the lass searching inside my mind. "This connection that we share. I've never felt this way before."

Her eyes widened as she placed a hand on my heart. "My mother told me of this. I think we are bonded."

"Bonded?"

"Aye." She frowned, casting her gaze to her hands as she fisted them in her lap. "Mates."

I sensed the embers of her despair stoking deep within her bosom, fanned by the flames of worry and frustration. "You are upset?"

She nodded, her gaze meeting mine for a brief moment before looking away. "I didn't plan for this."

"I have no regrets, Fiona. I could love you each night for an eternity." I spoke in earnest, though I had to admit this mysterious connection we shared troubled me. I didn't understand it, but I knew my amber-eyed lass had not meant to bewitch me. Somehow, we would find a way to make sense of this.

The conflagration of her emotions burst through my senses until I feared I'd suffocate under the burden of her worry.

"I'm sorry." Her shoulders sagged as if she bore the weight of a thousand stones. "It's just I made a vow to my mother. A vow I must keep. I cannot be the mate you deserve until I find the dragonslayer."

An invisible noose wound around my throat. I had vowed I'd not kill another dragon, but how could I refuse my mate and cause her anguish? "Do you seek revenge against a dragon? Did a dragon kill your mother?" My breath hitched as I awaited her response.

"I wish it were so simple. 'Twas a monster who killed my mother, but 'twas no dragon." Her voice cracked as she looked up at me with glossy eyes.

I felt her sorrow as keenly as if 'twere my own. "I must find the dragonslayer, and after I do, I will come back to you."

I clasped her hands in mine, tenderly stroking her fingers and hoping to ease her suffering. "Who is this dragonslayer you seek?"

"I only know him by name—MacQuoid."

I sucked in a breath through a hiss. How ironic that the lass who'd brought me so much joy would now be a source of newfound sorrow. For how could I kill her monster, and how could I live with myself if I didn't?

Though I didn't wish to reveal my identity, I knew I had no choice. As our emotions were now tethered, she would learn soon enough.

I cleared my throat, summoning the courage to speak. "We share a connection I do not understand," I spoke softly while continuing to caress her fingers. "It is as if our hearts are entwined and beating as one. Yet we know so little about one another." My voice dropped to a strained whisper as I averted my gaze, unable to look in her eyes as shame overcame me. "I am Duncan MacQuoid, Fiona."

"Murderer!" She shoved me back with such force, I toppled from the bed in a tangle of furs.

"Fiona, 'tis me, Duncan." I struggled to stand.

What had come over her? One moment we were caressing beneath the warm furs, and the next she had sprung from the bed, screaming like a banshee.

"I know who you are, MacQuoid. Dragonslayer!" She ended on a shrill sob before covering her face with her hands.

I kicked the furs to the side and reached for her. "I am a dragonslayer no more, Fiona."

"Why did you make love to me? You should have killed me like you did the rest of my kind." She rushed through the flap of my tiny hut into the cool morning air.

Swearing under my breath, I wrapped a fur around my waist and chased after her.

Surely we had both gone mad.

The morning was exceptionally cold, and Fiona wore not a stitch of clothes. A chill wind from the north whipped the heavy branches overhead into a frenzy. Autumn leaves danced around Fiona's feet as she wept, kneeling beside a fallen oak.

The sharp edge of her suffering pierced the cavity of my chest. I still didn't understand how her emotions had been tethered to my own, but I did feel her pain, so keen I thought my heart would break from it.

"Fiona, you are mistaken. Come inside where 'tis warm," I pleaded.

She looked up at me through tear-soaked eyes. "You killed my mother!" Her body shook with violent tremors. "You struck her with a spear, and she had never sought to harm humankind. Never!"

My head spun and I felt weightless. Mouth agape, I stared at her, hoping my senses would return. And then the words from the she-dragon reverberated through my skull.

I have never sought to harm humankind. Never!

"'Twas a dragon I speared, not a human." But even as I said the words, I knew 'twas a lie. That dragon had been no dumb beast. She was something more.

"She was my mother!" Fiona wailed. "She was kind and good and all I had left in the world."

"Fiona," I struggled for words, knowing nothing I could say would ever bring back her mother. "Forgive me." Stepping forward, I reached out, needing to touch her and soothe her pain.

"Do not touch me! Do not ever touch me!"

What happened next I wouldn't have believed had I not seen the she-dragon transform into a beautiful woman each night in my dreams.

But those were dreams, and the dragon hovering above me now was no fantasy, though just a moment before she had been my beautiful lass.

Panting like a wounded animal, she singed my hair with her fiery breath.

I didn't cower. I didn't fear. We had shared a connection when I'd loved her beneath the light of the full moon. She would not harm me now.

I looked up into her amber eyes, which were the same as yesternight, only larger, sadder. 'Twas then I knew neither of us would come away from this unscathed. For her heart was shattered, and I didn't know how I could live without her forgiveness.