Chapter Thirty-Six

Duncan

I left my child witha mixture of heaviness and joy in my heart. After all I'd put Safina and her mother through, my child had forgiven me so easily. What a sweet lass she was, her eyes the same as mine, but she had her mother's captivating smile and beautiful hair. I was looking forward to getting to know my daughter. Hopefully, in time, her mother would forgive me as well.

I stopped for a repast at the first open tavern, helping myself to three bowls of barley beef stew and bread. I wasted no time with the flirtatious barmaids as I paid the tab and hurried out the door. There was an important matter to be settled.

I found my way back to the brothel easily enough since most of the streets in Galveston were either lettered or numbered. Though I didn't care for the establishment's seedy element, I needed to find Bess, the prostitute who'd saved me, and thank her. More importantly, I wanted to find out the whereabouts of Dr. Straw. It was time I paid that man a visit.

No sooner had the young maid taken my hat and coat, and ushered me into the gilded parlor with burgundy satin walls and velvet drapes, than I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from upstairs. I ran into the hall and raced up the stairs two at a time.

I found myself back in the bedroom where I'd spent the past two days recovering. My heart caught in my throat when I saw Bess lying on the floor, staring vacantly up at the ceiling, blood pooling from her throat, which was slit from ear to ear.

A young blonde woman, dressed only in a thin shift, was huddled in the corner, sobbing into a pillow.

I had seen gruesome deaths enough times before, but it didn't make witnessing Bess's murder any easier. Careful not to step in the blood, I leaned over her, shutting her eyes while murmuring a soft prayer for her soul. The prayer was to no god in particular. After five centuries of roaming the earth, I'd been exposed to many gods and religions. Still I continued to pray, hoping one deity among them would hear my plea.

I went to the crying girl. She'd removed the pillow from her face and was staring at me through puffy slits with wide-eyed fascination.

"What happened here?" I asked.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the black streams of makeup that ran down her face. "I heard Bess scream, but I came too late." She pointed a shaky finger at the open window. "I saw Dr. Straw escaping."

My gaze traveled to the window, and back to the corner of the room where Bess had kept Dr. Straw's cane, not surprised to find the weapon missing.

A stout man with peppered hair ran into the room, brandishing a pistol. "Hands where I can see them!" The man waved the gun at my chest. "Who are you?" he asked accusingly.

I slowly raised my hands, careful not to make any sudden moves. "Duncan MacQuoid." I nodded at Bess's body. "I saved the lass's life a few nights past, and she saved my life in turn. I am not her killer." I looked at the girl huddled in the corner. "It was Dr. Straw. She saw him escape through the window."

The girl nodded her agreement.

The man slowly lowered his gun. "Son of a bitch."

"And who are you?" I asked.

The man holstered his gun in a belt beneath his jacket. "Colin O'Leary. The doctor owes my boss five hundred dollars. He's been dodging me for nearly a week."

I looked at the frightened girl. "Lass, you need to summon the sheriff." The girl silently nodded and left the room.

O'Leary made the sign of the cross and bowed his head over Bess's body, mumbling a prayer. He rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. "Let's hope I find him first. Jail is too good for the likes of him."

A plump, old woman with silver hair piled on top of her head appeared in the doorway. She had to be the madam. Her green eyes widened when she saw Bess, but thankfully, she didn't give into hysterics. "My girl told me Dr. Straw did this?" Clucking her tongue, she crossed her arms over an ample bosom. "I don't understand. He was a good customer, and now he's been reduced to a thieving murderer."

"What drove him to commit such a crime?" I asked. Though Dr. Straw and the girl had argued over money, a simple squabble didn't seem motive enough for murder.

O'Leary narrowed his eyes. "Gaming and booze, not to mention he lost most of his patients to that healer."

My blood went cold, my gaze tunneling on O'Leary. "What healer?"

"The redheaded woman staying at Mrs. Jenkens's boarding house," O'Leary said matter-of-factly.

"Wasn't it she who healed you?" the madam asked.

My stomach roiled. "Aye, it was."

O'Leary clucked his tongue. "She's healed most of Dr. Straw's patients this week alone."

"Do you know where to find her?" I asked him, trying to ignore the drum of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

O'Leary shrugged. "I do."

I snarled at the thought of Bess's killer going after Fiona. "Then hurry, man. We don't have much time."

* * *

Fiona

I BUSIED MYSELF HELPINGMrs. Jenkens pack her valuables in crates. I'd no idea one person could own so many vases and statuettes. I'd only seen the few on display in the parlor, but Mrs. Jenkens had brought dozens out of nooks and crannies and cabinets. And then there were the tea cups and saucers, plates, silver, and china. Almighty goddess, we'd never finish packing, and I was so weary, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Mrs. Jenkens and Abby had begged me to go to bed, but I refused, fearful of the dreams that would plague me, dreams of Duncan passionately kissing me while we made love beneath the moonlight. Dreams of our bodies joined, meeting at the pinnacle of pleasure before I shuddered in his arms.

Nay, those weren't dreams. They were nightmares, for what kind of wicked soul was I to find pleasure in the arms of the man who'd murdered my mother? No matter how tired I was, or how desperately I wanted to close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep, I could not, though the inevitable reality was approaching. I would have to mate with the dragonslayer again if I wanted to save our child.

I wondered if I'd allow myself to find fulfillment or if I'd lay there, hating myself for surrendering to a murderer. I had the sickening feeling Duncan would not be satisfied with a brief coupling, that he wouldn't rest until he'd stoked the embers of my desire. He'd force me to find release, damn him. And damn me, too, for I wanted Duncan to pleasure me.

"Such a shame we had to cancel the party," Mrs. Jenkens's shrill voice cut through my fantasies. She was wrapping a delicate floral tea cup, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil.

"I know." Abby heaved a dramatic sigh. "Lydia thinks I'm making the whole thing up out of spite, and Irene thinks Josef has lost his marbles and I'm crazy for believing him."

Mrs. Jenkens froze, her eyes narrowing to two puffy slits. "Josef is never wrong about such things."

"Well, I hope he's wrong about this," Abby huffed, "even though my friends will never let me live it down."

"And what about Charlotte?" Mrs. Jenkens asked. "Surely, she was more understanding."

Abby shook her head. "Every time I call on her or ring her, she's either sleeping or out. I will try again in the morning."

Mrs. Jenkens's eyes bulged. "Make sure you do. A woman in her condition should not set out in bad weather."

"I will, Nana." Abby patted Mrs. Jenkens's arm as if she were comforting a child. "Besides, she will be sorely disappointed if she comes all this way, and we aren't here."

"From what Josef has said, none of the homes will be standing, anyway." Mrs. Jenkens's tone was as shrill as a mating pair of rabid cats. She looked sharply at me. "You are being awfully quiet."

"I have a lot on my mind," I mumbled, hoping the old woman would go back to fussing over her valuables and pay me no heed.

"With a hurricane approaching, you should be thankful Safina is far away." Mrs. Jenkens paused, no doubt waiting to gauge my reaction at the mention of Safina's name.

I did my best to remain impassive while I carefully set a wrapped vase in the crate. I didn't wish to give the old woman any more fodder for her gossip.

"Where did you say she'd gone?" Mrs. Jenkens continued. "Houston? Dallas?"

Mrs. Jenkens knew full well I had never mentioned where Safina had gone. What game was she playing? Did the woman think I was lying?

"I didn't say where she'd gone," I answered with a sigh. "She never told me."

"Oh, that's right." The woman said cheerily, as if my entire world hadn't crumbled around me. "Well, I'm sure it's in a nearby city. A crippled boy can only go so far."

It took all my willpower to hold my tongue. Luckily, Safina was not here, or else she might have given Mrs. Jenkens a thorough tongue-lashing.

"Unless Safina healed him, Nana," Abby added.

"Oh." Mrs. Jenkens's hands flew to her fleshy cheeks. "I didn't know she'd inherited your healing talents."

I said nothing, refusing to take the bait. The last thing I needed was this woman gossiping about Safina, too.

"Well, if she's any bit as good as you, her services will be in high demand, and they should not want for money."

I resented the jolly way in which Mrs. Jenkens spoke of my daughter's rebellion as if I hadn't just lost the only reason worth living.

"Miss Fiona?" Abby asked, biting her lip.

"What is it?" I felt badly for Abby. It had only been a few days ago that the girl had tried to kill herself. Something was wrong with her. She usually wasn't this demure, but she'd changed over the past few days.

Abby twisted her fingers together. "I am very concerned for my friend, Charlotte. Her mother and grandmother both died in childbirth. Charlotte is the sweetest girl in the whole world. If anything were to happen to her, I'd just die."

"No, you wouldn't," I gently chided. "Don't talk such nonsense."

But when I saw the deep lines marring the girl's brow, I knew Abby was truly upset. "Would you like me to assist with the birthing?"

Abby set down a vase, clasping her hands together in a prayer pose. "Oh, could you?"

I shrugged. "Of course, if Charlotte is willing."

"Oh, I'm sure she'd be more than willing," Abby squealed. "All of Galveston knows of your skills."

"Aye, I know." I couldn't help but scowl at Mrs. Jenkens at that remark. The old woman had sworn to keep my gift to herself, and she'd kept her vow all of five seconds before she'd spilled my secret to every cackling hen in Galveston.

"I heard a funny bit of gossip today." Abby giggled.

"What?" Mrs. Jenkens perked up like a predator scenting blood in the wind.

Abby's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "I heard that snake in the grass, Dr. Straw, has lost all his private patients, and his creditors have seized his possessions."

Mrs. Jenkens slapped her cheeks. "Oh, dear."

"And that he's in debt to half of the saloons around town," Abby continued.

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Jenkens rubbed her palms together and licked her lips as if she found the news delectable. "Well, if that man comes to my door ever again, I will send him packing."

I repressed laughter. Mrs. Jenkens hardly had the spine to face down such a man. "Mrs. Jenkens." I wagged a finger at the old woman. "If he comes to your door again, I would advise you not to open it."

"Why? I'm not afraid of him." Mrs. Jenkens turned up her chin in a false display of bravado.

I wanted to warn her about the dangerous doctor, but I couldn't tell her about Straw's attack on Duncan without having to answer questions about my former mate. I leveled a hard stare at Mrs. Jenkens, then Abby, pacing my words carefully so they had time to sink in. "Because he's desperate, and a desperate man is a dangerous man."

* * *

Duncan

THE TRIP TO MRS. JENKENS'Shouse was made faster by the trolley, but not fast enough, now that I knew Fiona's life was in danger. The home was a modest, two-story Victorian facing the beach. Like many Galveston homes, it was raised on stilts, though according to Josef, none of the houses along the shore were built strong enough to withstand the fury that would be unleashed on them tomorrow. The wind was already picking up, billowing my jacket and threatening to knock off O'Leary's bowler hat.

After O'Leary knocked on the door, it swung open, revealing a large colored man whose broad shoulders filled the doorway.

The man scowled. "What you want?"

The woman I assumed was Mrs. Jenkens was standing behind the large man as she dusted her hands on her apron. "Moses, if it's that no-good doctor, give him a swift kick down the stairs."

O'Leary held his hat in his hand as he peered over Moses's shoulder. "Good evening, Mrs. Jenkens."

Mrs. Jenkens patted Moses on the back. "It's okay, Moses. Please finish up in the kitchen."

The man backed up with a growl, then disappeared behind a swinging door. I didn't mind his hostility. Hopefully, he'd keep Dr. Straw away.

"Good evening, Mr. O'Leary. Why on earth are you calling so late?" She nodded curtly at O'Leary before turning a stony glare on me, assessing me as if I was a piece of livestock.

"I'm sorry," O'Leary said, "but we have come with a message for your healer."

"It will have to wait." Mrs. Jenkens threw her hands in the air with all the theatrics of a squawking mother hen. "We are much too busy packing. There is a hurricane coming, you know."

O'Leary scratched his head, gazing at the cloudy night sky. "No, I didn't know. I didn't see the flags raised."

Mrs. Jenkens wagged a finger in his face. "That's because Mr. Cline is a fool who refuses to listen to my friend, Josef Cortez. Josef has never been wrong about the weather." She jutted hands on her ample hips, glaring at O'Leary and then me as if she was challenging us to disagree. "Not ever."

"I'm sorry," I interjected, "but this message is urgent. We will not intrude on her time overly long."

"It's okay, Mrs. Jenkens."

My heart skipped a beat at the lilting sound of Fiona's voice.

Mrs. Jenkens scowled at me, then turned to look behind her.

My chest swelled at the sight of my lovely lass. She held a statuette in her hands that had been partially wrapped in newspaper. "I will see them."

Ignoring Mrs. Jenkens's protest, I pushed my way inside, grasping Fiona by the shoulders. "Thank God you're safe, lass."

She pulled away. "Of course I'm safe, Duncan." Then she plastered on a smile and turned to the old woman. "Mrs. Jenkens, I'm sorry." She waved a hand at me as if I was no more than an acquaintance. "This is Duncan. Duncan MacQuoid."

A young woman with brown hair and wide eyes squealed and rushed behind Fiona, peering over her shoulder. "You must be Safi's father."

I nodded. "I am."

"Oh, Miss Fiona." Mrs. Jenkens gasped, stumbling back, nearly falling into the coat rack. "I thought you were a widow."

Fiona clutched the statue tightly to her chest, her expression hardening. "I never said I was."

Mrs. Jenkens's mouth fell open, the fleshy skin on her cheeks rippling with the movement. "But I thought Josef said...." She paused, looking from Fiona to me as if she was expecting us to rescue her from her own wagging tongue. After she was met with silence, she threw her hands in the air. "Oh, never mind." Then she narrowed her eyes at me. "Mr. MacQuoid, I'll have you know I am a Christian woman. This is a family establishment I'm running here."

I swallowed a lump which had wedged itself in my throat as I thought of the right words to say. If I claimed Fiona as my wife, would she deny me? Only one way to find out. "I thank you, Mrs. Jenkens. I would expect nothing less for my wife and child."

"Forgive me, but I didn't see wedding rings." The judgment in the old woman's tone made me want to throttle her, and not for my sake, but for Fiona's. Mrs. Jenkens was lucky I'd taken a vow never to harm defenseless women, no matter how haughty they were.

"I told you we lost everything on the journey," Fiona said in an exasperated tone.

"Nana," the brown-haired lass cut in. "Please."

The old woman held up a silencing palm. "Hush, Abby." She scowled at me. "And where have you been all this time, Mr. MacQuoid?" Again, her tone dripped with accusation. I had no problem envisioning her as the town gossip, the type of woman who wouldn't hesitate to tarnish Fiona's reputation for the sake of scandal.

I gave the old woman a hard stare, forcing her to look away. "Looking for work and a suitable home for my family, ma'am."

She blinked at me as if she'd been struck dumb. "Well, I hope you found something, though you are welcome to stay here." She waved toward her small sitting room with the brocade sofas and crates full of various plates and vases. "Miss, er, Mrs. Fiona has earned room and board here for as long as she wants." She let out a bubbly squeal. "Though from the sound of it, I may not have a home after tomorrow."

I humbly bowed before the old woman, not for her sake, but for Fiona's. I sensed Fiona wanted to stay on Mrs. Jenkens's good side. "I thank you for your generosity."

"I beg your pardon, ladies, but we need to cut to the chase," O'Leary interrupted. "Has Dr. Straw called tonight?"

Mrs. Jenkens's rosy cheeks paled. "No, not tonight. Why?"

"He's committed murder," O'Leary said, "and we fear he may come after the healer next."

Abby and Mrs. Jenkens gasped.

"Oh, great goddess." Fiona clasped a hand to her throat and shot me a wide-eyed look. Odd, for I would have never expected a dragoness to show fear over a cowardly man. This was not the same woman who'd accosted five drunken knights in a smoky tavern five centuries ago. I wondered if it was time or motherhood that had changed her.

O'Leary nodded toward the narrow staircase that led to the upper floor. "He could be here even now. Mrs. Jenkens, do you mind if we search your home?"

Mrs. Jenkens swept an arm with a wide flourish. "By all means, gentlemen, please do."

I took the downstairs while O'Leary searched the upper floor. I found nothing amiss in the kitchen. Moses packed plates into a crate, and I told the man to keep an eye out for the doctor. I also warned him about the blade in Dr. Straw's cane. After securing a lamp, I searched the outer perimeter of the house as well as the space beneath the porch, a small hen coop, and the carriage house. The breeze was picking up, a few of the gusts rattling the slate shingles on the roof of the carriage house. I had noticed that many of the buildings in Galveston had slate shingles, and I feared the plates would be launched into the air like cannon blasts once the hurricane hit.

I joined Fiona and the other ladies in the parlor, giving them reassurances that Straw was nowhere in sight.

"All clear," O'Leary said as he walked down the stairs.

"Nothing downstairs or outside," I answered.

"Where do you think he is?" Fiona asked.

O'Leary's bushy, graying brows drew together. "No telling, but he has a few more haunts I need to check. There is a very good chance he will come here. You need to be on your guard at all times."

Instinctively, I moved toward Fiona, fighting the urge to pull her into my embrace. "I'll stay with her."

Fiona crossed her arms, putting on a show of bravery. "I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself, as you well know." She gave me a knowing look.

Aye, I well knew what she was capable of, but if she had to resort to her dragon form, the consequences would be devastating. The brigades would march on Galveston with guns and cannons; my dragoness wouldn't be able to defend herself against an industrial army.

I crossed my arms, bracing myself for a verbal battle. "I'm not leaving you, lass."

"If he comes here—" O'Leary cut in.

"He's as good as dead," I answered flatly, ignoring the swooning sounds of Mrs. Jenkens and Abby.

O'Leary gripped my shoulder, leveling me with a stern expression. "Be careful, man. He's a tricky cuss."

"Aye, that he is," I grumbled as I instinctively rubbed my gut. "Watch his cane. He has a blade hidden in the bottom."

"Don't I know it?" O'Leary laughed, pulling back his sleeve to reveal a fresh, angry scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow. He rolled his sleeve back down before tipping his hat to the lasses. "Goodnight, ladies."

Fiona nodded curtly, while Mrs. Jenkens and Abby looked at O'Leary as if he was an apparition.

As soon as O'Leary was out the door, Fiona turned to the other women with a huff. "Mrs. Jenkens, may I have a private word with my husband?"

I winced at the way she'd said the word "husband," as if it left a foul taste in her mouth. I supposed it did. After all, the lass had devised a spell to be rid of me, and I was determined to win her back.

"Of course, dear." Mrs. Jenkens smiled sweetly at Fiona before shooting eye daggers at me. She set a vase down in a crate and waddled out of the room, taking Abby with her.

Fiona looked up at me with eyes as hard as steel. "What if he goes after Safina?"

My veins solidified at the thought of Dr. Straw harming Safina, but that notion was quickly dispelled when I recalled Josef's brawny grandsons, who'd helped us carry Safina and Gabriel inside. Dr. Straw struck me as a coward, one who'd rather prey on defenseless prostitutes than go up against a house full of dockworkers.

I took a chance and grasped Fiona's shoulders, trying my best to keep my composure with my pretty lass so near. "Fiona, she is staying in a house with five strapping young men. He would be a fool to try it." I softened my tone when her mouth fell open. "But we can go there to put your mind at ease."

In truth, I didn't wish to leave Mrs. Jenkens's cozy little parlor. I wanted to lay Fiona down on the brocade sofa and kiss her senseless.

Fiona's brow furrowed and she chewed on her lower lip. "No. I doubt he knows she's returned." She rolled her eyes, jerking her head in the direction of the swinging doors, where Mrs. Jenkens had disappeared through moments earlier. "Mrs. Jenkens has already told most of Galveston she's run off with Gabriel."

I should've been relieved, but my annoyance surprised even myself. Had that woman truly offered my mate and child a room in order to be at the heart of town gossip?

"Then it would be best if we didn't tell Mrs. Jenkens of Safina's return," I said with a wry grin.

Fiona laughed. "She's most likely got an ear to the door already."

I swore beneath my breath when I saw the kitchen door move just a tick. "Is there somewhere else we can talk?"

Fiona froze, looking like an animal caught in a snare before relaxing, brushing a strand of hair out of her face with a deliberate hand. "Aye."

That one word punctured the air, leaving something unspoken between us, something I knew was momentous. And then she wordlessly brushed past me, reaching behind her. I stuck my hand out, surprised when she entwined her fingers through mine. My heart hammered as I followed her upstairs, down the hall, and into a small bedroom.

I stood in the doorway, my legs rooted to the spot when Fiona released my hand and turned to me.

She studied me for a long moment, her pressing gaze making the cramped bedroom feel even smaller.

"You've lost much of your Scottish accent," she said in a dismissive tone.

"Aye." I loosened my collar as the flush of unease made me sweat. "It's what happens after living in the States for so long."

She shrugged, tracing the side of the bedpost with a finger. "I never imagined you'd change."

I swallowed hard, my spine stiffening. "Much about me has changed, except for my heart. It will never stop pining for you."

A look of understanding crossed her features. She had a molten look in her eyes as she removed the pins from her hair. Wild locks cascaded around her shoulders in crimson waves, nearly taking my breath away.

How many nights had I dreamed of running my fingers through that thick mane? Of wrapping it around my hand and pulling her to me, trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone while I held her at my mercy.

When Fiona licked her plump lips, I moved to her as if I was in a trance, answering the siren's call. Could it be true? Had Fiona forgiven me? Was she ready to make up and restore our bond?

When she began unlacing the bodice of her gown, I froze, my limbs encrusted in ice as I helplessly watched her free her soft breasts.

My throat had gone dry. "Fiona, what are you doing?"

She let her skirts fall to the floor. "I am doing what must be done." She held her chin high as she kicked her clothes aside.

Doing what must be done? This is not how I want her.

I stepped back, needing to put distance between her nude body and my pulsating flesh. "Put on your clothes, lass."

"We must restore the bond." Her voice cracked and splintered with emotion. "Our daughter's immortality depends on it."

Much to my chagrin, she followed me, placing a hand on my chest. When her fingers grazed the exposed skin on my neck, I jumped as if I'd been shocked.

I pushed her hand down, nearly knocking over a vanity as I backed into a wall. "Fiona, for five hundred years I have dreamed of making love to you again, but I will not take you like this."

She refused to back down, leaning into me, pressing her breasts against my chest. "Duncan, I cannot risk Safina's life. She has no way of defending herself if she can't shift."

When she pulled my hand to her mouth, kissing the tips of my fingers, I thought I'd come undone. My groin was tight and heavy with need, and it took all my willpower not to throw her on the bed and sink into her heat.

I jerked my hand away, gripping the side of the vanity so hard, the wood crackled. "She is safe now."

Fiona pouted, looking up at me from beneath thick lashes. Though she still had dark circles under her eyes from obvious lack of sleep, she was still a beauty, her skin so smooth it nearly glowed. "She will never be safe as long as she is mortal."

I held back a curse as I gripped her shoulders, my heart pulsing wildly as I stared deeply into her heavy-lidded gaze. "Look me in the eye and tell me you want to make love to me. Tell me you want to bond with the dragonslayer who killed your mother."

She wilted beneath my touch like a flower baking beneath a dry summer sun. "Duncan, don't do this."

I released her, thrusting her away. I clenched my fists until nails broke skin. Still, the pain wasn't enough to abate the waves of desire that washed through me. And all this time I'd thought there'd been no greater travesty than being forced to live life without Fiona. Now I realized loving her was far more treacherous.

"I will find a way to earn your forgiveness," I spoke through a clenched jaw, every muscle in my body coiled so tight, I was surprised I could speak at all. "But until I do, I will not be making love to you, lass." I grabbed a pillow and blanket off the bed, throwing them on the floor. I knelt and straightened the blanket. "You look as tired as I feel. Get some sleep."

It was no lie that she looked exhausted, but the flush in her cheeks, like the rosy hue of her nipples, made her even more alluring.

I turned from her, exhaling a pent-up breath of relief at the sound of springs creaking when she climbed onto the mattress. Though I wanted very badly to make love to Fiona— almost as badly as I wanted to restore our bond—I knew there'd be an even greater price in taking her when her heart wasn't willing. I was a fool to think I'd ever earn her forgiveness, but I sure as hell was going to try.