“Stop being difficult.”
His strong hands glided across her shoulders and quickly found the spot at the base of her neck where her muscles bunched into tight knots. “Gods, girl. There’s a huge knot here.” His thumb pushed into the flesh and Annwyl’s body jerked.
“Oi! Painful!”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.” She stood up while trying to pull away, but he pulled her back.
“Must you be so difficult? If you give me a moment, I can fix this.”
Annwyl gritted her teeth.
The knight chuckled, his hands massaging muscles on her shoulder. Annwyl bit her lip and barely stopped herself from moaning. The man had the most unbelievable hands she ever experienced. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on something—
The muscles loosened under his big fingers and she found herself relaxing . . . grudgingly.
“You know, you still don’t know my name.”
“And I still don’t want to know.” When she left the glen with Fearghus she never wanted to see this man again. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
“Such a difficult girl.”
“I’m hardly a girl.”
“Oh. Sorry. Do you prefer old maid?”
Annwyl clenched her fingers into tight fists.
“There’s that knot again. It just got worse.”
The knight pulled her arm out, massaging it all the way down. He stopped at her tight fist. “Unclench.”
She glared at him but didn’t answer. He slapped the back of her hand. “Ow!”
“I said unclench, woman.”
She opened her hand and he began to gently massage each finger.
“You don’t like me, do you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Do you like the dragon?”
“Of course, I like the dragon.”
“What do you mean ‘of course’? No one likes dragons.”
“Then why are you here?” He opened his mouth to answer but abruptly stopped. Annwyl nodded knowingly. “I see.”
“You see what?”
“I know what’s going on.”
“You do?”
“You don’t fool me.” She pointed at the crest on his surcoat. “That army hasn’t been seen in over twenty years.”
The knight looked down at his crest as if seeing it for the first time. Annwyl watched as an unruly bit of black hair fell over his eye. She longed to touch that hair. Longed to feel it move across her naked flesh.
“Really?” He sounded so innocent or at least he tried.
“Yes. Really. Where did you find it anyway? Some castle you robbed? Or the dragon’s den? Knight my ass. You’re a mercenary. A blade for hire. The lowest of the low.”
The knight let out a deep sigh and looked away from her. Ha! She caught him.
He loved the humans’ complete inability to see anything even when it stared them right in their faces. He knew what it was, too. Their logic. How could anything the size of a dragon turn into a human? Humans understood nothing of ancient Magick and how powerful it could be.
For a moment, he really thought that Annwyl figured it out. Still, he remained grateful she hadn’t. He knew he shouldn’t lie to her and, in the beginning, he really hadn’t planned to. He trusted her now more than he trusted anyone, but her reaction to him as a human male completely confounded him.
She wanted the knight but hated the knight. Cared for the dragon but, not surprisingly, didn’t seem to have any other feelings than general friendliness.
Annwyl continued to be the most complex creature he’d ever met. And, when he wasn’t staring at her chest or rear, he found her intelligent, delightful, and extremely funny. Just a joy to be around. But only the dragon seemed lucky enough to see that side of her. When he came to her as the knight, he found her surly, foul tempered, and downright rude. He still found her a joy to be around, but probably because he liked how she smelled when she became angry. A musk all her own that forced him to fight his erection every time he caught a whiff of it.
He needed to focus. Right now. Right this second. Or he would end up doing something very stupid.
He cleared his throat and released her arm. “Feel better?”
“Yes.”
“And . . .”
“And what?” He raised an eyebrow and Annwyl scowled. “Thank you.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard was it?”
She turned away from him and he caught sight of that lovely rear again. He slapped it with the palm of his hand. Annwyl stopped. Gritted her teeth. But did nothing.
He came up behind her. “Good,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re getting better. You want to beat me to a bloody pulp but you’re able to restrain yourself. Nice.” He desperately wanted to touch her, but he fought the desire as best he could. He had no idea his human body could be so hard to control.
“Now,” he barked gruffly. “Let’s start again.”
“So.” Morfyd placed a bowl of stew in front of Annwyl. “Tell me about your Brastias.”
Annwyl frowned. “He’s not
“What?” Morfyd started. “No.”
“Oh, then you are just being nosy.”
“Oh, forget I asked.”
Annwyl dug into the hearty stew. After her long day with the knight, her body demanded sustenance.
“Is it hard to be with all those men? All day? Every day?”
Annwyl drank some of Morfyd’s wine. She knew no threat of infection remained, but the wine still tasted unbelievably delicious.
“Not at all.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Just let one of the men touch you inappropriately and you take his arm off right at the shoulder joint. Then, as he’s bleeding to death, you slam his face into a few things, and you’ll find the other men leave you alone.”
Morfyd stared at Annwyl with wide eyes. “What?”
Morfyd cleared her throat. “Nothing.”
Annwyl could hear Fearghus coming, the cave shaking with each mighty step he took. She didn’t look up from her stew until he entered her chamber. “Lord Dragon.”
“Lady Annwyl.”
“I was wondering when you were going to come and visit me.”
The dragon barely glanced at Morfyd. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Morfyd?”
“No.”
The dragon bumped her chair with one of his talons. She glared but stood up. “Fine. I’m heading back to the village.”
“Good idea. All those sick humans for you to take care of.”
Morfyd sneered at the dragon while addressing Annwyl. “See you in the morning, Annwyl.”
“Have a good night.”
