Chapter Seven

Long after the loving, Brenna jolted upright with a scream trapped on her lips. She could still see the vision of Cameron standing in his naked glory, his body smeared with blood, and shouting in what sounded like agony. She shuddered, wishing she could convince herself that it had simply been a dream, but she knew the difference.

“Brenna?” He sounded stupefied, and she realized he was still half asleep. Struggling to control her racing heart, she took a few deep breaths and laid down beside him. “It is nothing. A bad dream.”

“Would you like to speak of it?” The words were issued in a sleepy voice.

She managed a small smile in spite of the terror consuming her. “It would matter not, for I fear you would not remember what I spoke by morning.”

“Nonsense,” he mumbled. “I am perfectly awake.” Seconds later, a small snore shook his frame.

Brenna suppressed a giggle as she snuggled closer to him, soaking in the warmth of his body. His arms went back around her, holding her tightly against him, and she tried to close her eyes and forget the vision.

Unfortunately, it was still too vivid to be easily banished, and her feelings were too entwined with Cameron’s possible fate for her to easily dismiss what she’d seen. She was so tempted to warn him of what was coming, but how could she? He believed her powers of Sight were gone, and if she revealed the truth, he might still choose to execute her to keep her from being used as a weapon against them.

She didn’t think he would, especially after the night they had just shared, but she had betrayed his trust by allowing him to believe taking her virtue would take her power, and he was bound to be angry about that. Though she had felt she had no choice but to maintain the deception, now she was bore guilt at having done so.

If she hadn’t, she probably would’ve been either dead and buried somewhere on Balfour land, or sent on her way and already back in the possession of Walstone. She really couldn’t see another option she’d had at the time, for there certainly hadn’t been any trust or rapport built up between herself and the Scottish laird at that point, but now it felt wrong to continue to maintain the charade.

She thought perhaps she should tell him the truth. It seemed like the best course forward, but she was happy to do it in the morning. It was a relief to have him sleeping so soundly, and though she briefly considered whispering her confession then to clear her conscience and allow fate to determine whether or not he remembered her words, she held back the impulse.

If she was going to tell him, she had to do it in a proper way, one that owned up to her dishonesty and accepted the consequences of her actions. She only hoped there was a deeper and developing bond between them, and after the gentle way he had made love to her that night, she was optimistic there was.

He seemed to find it as impossible not to think of her as she did not to think of him. They were drawn together by something she couldn’t identify, something intense and impossible to ignore. She only hoped it was strong enough to allow him to forgive her the deception she’d perpetrated, and to help him find a way that would allow her to stay and not be used as a tool against his people.

***

When she woke the next morning in his bed, it was only a little past dawn. She could tell that by the light creeping in, and by the fact no one had disturbed her to empty the chamber pot. She knew that was Glynis’s chore, and she could well imagine the spiteful blonde pouring a full chamber pot upon her.

She couldn’t be certain, but she thought the small blue dragon that had attacked her as she emerged from the water was Glynis. After all, Dolag had commented on her uncommon ability to shift, and Brenna had learned enough during her stay with the Balfour people to know that mostly the males were born as shifters, while the women tended to inherit other types of magic or remained without magic.

Contrasting the size of the blue dragon to the magnificent emerald dragon Cameron had become when he flew her back to the keep yesterday evening made her more and more convinced it must’ve been Glynis, for the dragon had been slender, delicate, and had some kind of feminine quality that was difficult to explain, aside from details like smaller paws—though her claws had been amply deadly.

Even now, Brenna wasn’t certain if Glynis had set out only to frighten her, or if she’d intended to kill her when she attacked. It seemed like her aim had been off, and Brenna taking refuge in the thick growth of trees had prevented the dragon from attacking a second time.

If it were Glynis—and she had little doubt that it was—the woman had managed to strike good blows on her first and only round of attack. Was it a warning, or was it a misstep on Glynis’s part? Brenna couldn’t be sure either way, but without proof, how could she accuse a member of the clan of being her attacker? She was already an outsider, and that would only serve to further alienate her.

It was her morning off, so she left the keep early after taking an apple from the kitchen and walking through the courtyard. She rarely came this way, because it was the practice area for the warriors, but she could see the dragons from a distance, and curiosity compelled her forward.

She paused near a brick retaining wall, taking a seat upon it, since it gave her a good vantage point of the men slightly below, spread out in the clearing of a meadow as they sparred with each other. As she looked closer, she realized she was searching for a sapphire-blue dragon, but the closest was a sky-blue dragon much too large to be her attacker.

Slightly less on edge now, she watched the dragons interact, clashing and dipping with such grace and elegance that it was more like a dance than maneuvers of life and death. She was mesmerized by the emerald dragon in the center of it all, instantly recognizing Cameron. His brother was also green, but he was a slightly different shade. Ian was more of a sea-green than emerald, and though he was striking, she didn’t think he was nearly as beautiful as her dragon.

She cleared her throat at the thought, reminding herself Cameron wasn’t her anything. Last night had been full of vague promises and pent-up passion, but it didn’t mean it was really going to lead anywhere. How could he take her as his mate? Even if he were willing to overlook all the obstacles it would create, and the disapproval of his people, she would still have to confess to her deception, and she wasn’t certain he could forgive that.

Besides, how could she stay as the laird’s mate? She didn’t belong among these people. That was made clear to her by their shunning. They would never accept her, so it didn’t matter how strongly Cameron felt about her or vice versa. Whenever they had must be fleeting by necessity.

“Don’t get too close,” said a small voice.

Brenna tensed at the sound and turned to look at the silvery blonde-haired little girl who approached, not seeming at all shy. She was smiling, her open mouth revealing a set of perfect baby teeth. Brenna had little experience with children, but she would place the girl around four or five.

She smiled in return, unable to deny the natural reaction to the girl’s sunny disposition. Although she appeared openly curious, she didn’t seem unfriendly as she sat on the wall right beside Brenna. “Thank you for the advice. I would not want to be injured by the dragons as they practice.”

“Aye,” said the little girl with a serious expression. “Papa told me he’d tan my behind from one end of the meadow to the other if he ever caught me in the courtyard while they practice.” She seemed very serious about that, yet almost proud of the warning. “Papa says I should stay where I’m put.”

Brenna grinned. “And who is your papa?”

“He is the magnificent green dragon,” said the little girl.

Brenna’s heart sank for a moment, and she looked at Cameron before looking back at the girl. He had a child, and he hadn’t told her? It made sense he wouldn’t have the first night when he’d ostensibly claimed her virtue only to render her powerless, but last night, it hadn’t come up?

She frowned, unsettled by him withholding information, which seemed to further confirm there was nothing serious or long-term ahead of them. “You’re the daughter of Laird Balfour then?” She forced herself to sound cheery.

The little girl tipped her head. “Why do you sound funny?”

Brenna cleared her throat. “I do not know what you mean.”

“It sounds fake. Adults always do that when they don’t want me to know the truth.” She spoke matter-of-factly before looking back at the dragons. “Uncle Cameron is nae my papa. He’s my Papa.” She pointed to the sea-green dragon.

Brenna couldn’t articulate how relieved she was. It wasn’t that she had been bothered by the idea of Cameron having a child, assuming there was no mate in tow, but she was relieved he hadn’t hidden something so important from her. “Ian is your father,” she said, her cheer much more authentic this time.

The little girl smiled and nodded. “Papa is the handsomest warrior, and he is the fastest too. He is the best.”

“I’m certain all little girls feel that way about their fathers, Miss Balfour.”

The little girl giggled. “I am Kiersten. Do you feel that way about your father? Is he a dragon-shifter?”

Brenna swallowed down a lump of grief for a moment and cleared her throat again. “My papa was a simple farmer, but I remember thinking he must be the best farmer there ever was. He was strong and kind, and he was a compassionate man.” She didn’t share her last memory of seeing him cut down by Walstone’s men as he tried to stop them from taking her, armed only with a meager pitchfork against their swords.

Her father had managed to take down two of the soldiers, and she considered that a good victory for a serf, though she wished he’d simply let them take her. If he were still alive, there might’ve been a chance of reconciliation at some point. She still clung to the hope she might someday see her sister Lianne again.

“He sounds rather dull,” said Kiersten with a shrug. “Still, I expect you must love him.”

“Of course. I have not seen him in many years, for he died. You’re quite lucky to have your papa, who is strong and a very good warrior.”

Kiersten nodded, though she looked solemn for a moment. “I never knew my mama. She died having me.” She spoke the words casually, and it had clearly become ingrained in her. It didn’t seem to have too overt of an effect on her, but Brenna was certain that might manifest in other ways as she got older, for how could someone survive losing her mother at such a young age and remain unscathed by it?

“I think your uncle Cameron is quite a warrior too,” said Brenna.

“I like your voice. You talk funny, but I like it. Are you English?” There was a hint of suspicion in Kiersten’s green eyes.

“Aye, but I hope you will not hold it against me,” said Brenna.

Kiersten tipped her head for a moment, clearly thinking over the matter with serious intent. Then she nodded once. “I do not see a reason to, unless you prove to be one of the lying, slippery English.”

Brenna winced, certain the little girl had overheard those words before. She could hardly find fault with them, for there had been much deceit, particularly on the English side, in the Scottish war for independence.

They passed the next hour in quiet conversation while watching the warriors practice, and her heart was racing in her chest by the time the last dragon-shifter had landed and returned to his human form. They were far enough away that she couldn’t see many of the details of their nudity, but she was aware of all the men dressing before they started walking back toward them.

Ian was in the lead, and Kiersten hopped off the retaining wall and ran down the hill to join him. She threw herself into his arms, and he caught her easily before hugging her and shifting her to his hip. As they walked by, Brenna heard her chattering all about the strange Englishwoman and her funny voice. She caught Ian’s glance and smiled slightly, surprised when he nodded to her in a perfectly respectable fashion.

She stiffened as Cameron approached, not moving from the wall until he stood beside her. He didn’t speak until the other warriors had walked by, with Valen pausing to look back for just a moment in assessing fashion before he nodded, grunted, and walked on.

“What was that?” asked Brenna.

“That was Valen indicating his support.”

She frowned up at him. “Support for what, Laird Balfour?”

“Cameron,” he corrected impatiently. “I announced to the warriors this morning that I’m taking you under my protection.”

She frowned. “I am certain they were thrilled to hear it, but I do not recall you discussing that with me.”

He hefted her. “I told you last night I would be protecting you. That involves others knowing you are under my protection. Out of respect for my warriors, I told them first…er, aside from Dolag and that Glynis woman.”

She bit her lip. “What exactly did you tell them?”

“That you are under my protection.” He sounded puzzled. “Why is that difficult to grasp?”

She shook her head, dismissing the question. What she really wanted to ask was how he’d explained her role in his life. He’d issued the edict she was under his protection, but had he explained why? If so, what had he told them? Had he informed them she was a passing fancy he had to get out of his system, or had he implied there was something more to it? Did he want something more from her than some nights in his bed?

She could hardly ask the warriors what he had said, especially since she couldn’t bring herself to ask him yet either. She knew where her own heart was leaning, and it would take little to fall in love with the dragon-shifter laird, but she couldn’t risk allowing herself to do that unless or until she knew he was feeling a similar intensity of emotions.

“Come. We shall share the midday meal together, and that will make my intentions known to all.” He held out his arm.

She slipped hers through it as she walked with him, still unclear exactly what his intentions encompassed, and not entirely confident she wanted him to publicly claim her as being under his protection. She was certain Glynis would react poorly to that, a fact confirmed for her moments later when she sat down beside Cameron at the table, a trencher between them.

Glynis served them, and her anger was obvious as she slopped down the ladle of broth into the trencher, and then slapped another one in harder, causing the hot liquid to splash onto Brenna’s arm. She gasped as the liquid soaked through the sleeve of her léine, aware of Cameron cursing Glynis’s clumsiness before soaking the cloth in his wine and using it to dab at her wound as he peeled back the thin fabric. “I do not believe it will blister,” he said after a moment.

She nodded, still aware of the sting, though certain it wasn’t as bad as Glynis would’ve liked it to be. Rather than look at the woman and level accusations, she decided to continue ignoring her.

She could feel Glynis’s anger seething inside her, and it was obvious the woman was even angrier that she hadn’t said anything or acknowledged Glynis’s actions. Glynis had clearly wanted to send a message, though one only intended for her. Without engaging her, Brenna knew she was depriving Glynis of some satisfaction for her act, and she took pleasure in that herself.