She refused to accept that. “No, there’s something different in the air. Can’t you feel it?” She couldn’t explain it. The air tingled. If she had a lightbulb, she bet she could illuminate the room by merely holding it in her hand. An electrical current surged through her; the hair on her arms pricked and stood on end. A strange knowing settled in her mind. An eerie familiarity with just this type of situation nudged her. It seemed so simple. She knew exactly what to do. “Give me your hand.”
She grabbed his hand and tucked it under one arm while she placed her other hand flat on Septamus’s scarred, yellowed chest. As soon as her palm connected with the cold, scaly flesh of the gasping Draecna, she detected a subtle warmth surging into her. With a smile at Taggart, she closed her eyes. His healing essence rushed into her like a burning sip of brandy on a cold winter’s night. A warm, golden glow washed through her being and soothed her soul with a gentle wave. She felt the sensation travel through her. The energy concentrated in her belly, then sped into her palm. The glow dissipated into Septamus’s chest. She immediately missed its warmth.
Septamus roared and pumped his short forearms. His once-faded, gray scales pulsed with brilliant color as though he had returned to the age of a young hatchling just emerging from his shell. “I am young again. She has taken away the dreaded pleurisy. This Guardian is truly blessed beyond all the others that came before.”
Hannah struggled to catch her breath as she stood with Taggart’s hand still clutched to her chest. With her eyes closed, she ignored the tiny voice in her head, nudging her to release him. Her heart pounded an excited rhythm, drowning out all other sounds. Heaven help her. The sensation she felt while healing Septamus. Taggart had rushed through her like a drug; she needed—no; shewantedmore. It made her wonder what he would be like. Have mercy, her lonely libido. It had been so very long.
“Hannah?” He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “Hannah, are ye all right?”
She forced herself to pry her fingers from around his hand and slowly opened her eyes. She already missed his warmth as she tucked her arms close to her sides. “I’m fine.” No way was she anywhere near fine. She ached for his touch. What the hell had she gotten herself into by following him to Scotland?
Septamus rumbled with a throaty chuckle as he combed his claws through his silvery beard. “I believe she is a great deal better than mere fine. I would rate this Guardian as epic.”
“Aye,” Taggart agreed with a wink aimed her way. “She is not half bad.”
12
“So, you do not feel it necessary she be told your natural form is that of a Draecna hybrid?” Septamus perched on the edge of the skirting wall, his silhouette highlighted by the white-yellow glow of the waxing moon.
“I am the only human-Draecna mix left in existence. The last of the Goddess Isla’s magical clutch. While watching over Hannah, I will make certain I do not turn. Over the past six hundred years, I have honed my control and can maintain my human form indefinitely.” Taggart stood beside Septamus, frowning down at the hypnotic moonlight glistening on the waves as they rippled and danced at the base of the keep. He yearned to unleash his Draecna self, unfurl his wings, and soar above the ocean. He loved flying into the night. Missed the exhilaration of the frigid wind lashing across his scales. “I have silenced Gearlach with a temporary spell. I think everyone else can be trusted.” He eyed Septamus with an expectant look and received a haughty nod in response. As he returned his focus to the sparkling waves, he added with a heavy sigh, “Besides, I am the Protector. As such, she is forbidden. I can never touch her.”
Septamus chuckled and stretched his grey, leathery wings then curled his tail around the carved outer stones at the top of the curtainwall. “I said nothing about bedding the woman. I merely asked if you were going to tell her you were really a Draecna. But now that you mention it, since when did some silly rule ever slow you with a lovely maiden?”
“I have taken an oath of celibacy.” Taggart fisted his hands atop the rough stone of the wall. Sly old Septamus. The beast always could see right through him.
“Merlin’s beard, boy. Not that Mia business again.” Septamus snorted and rolled his great, glowing eyes. “You know Sloan put her up to it. He wanted her to breed with you to produce a legion of hybrids he could bend to his will. You were advised she could not be trusted.”
“She loved me!” Taggart slammed his fist into the crumbling stone block, causing it to shatter into the ocean below.
“Take care, hybrid. Mind your temper lest you turn whether you wish it or not.” Septamus took his tail and nudged Taggart in the chest, pushing him back from the edge of the wall.
Taggart shut his eyes against the raw, blinding pain surging through him. Mia’s conniving. Her lies. The humiliation. She had sworn she loved him. Pledged she would always be his. She had even offered her soft throat for his mating mark. He raked his hand across his mouth, remembering the sweet scent of her blood racing through the tempting blue veins beneath her ivory skin. He had almost made the mistake of marking her as his own, but instead he had done the honorable thing. Shown her his true form first. Been honest with her. And then she had spurned him, cast him aside. She chose his brother, Sloan, instead.
Shoving Septamus’s tail aside, Taggart faced the biting wind, reveling in the sting of the heavy sea mist pelting him. He sucked in great gulps of the brackish night air to cool his rage. His pain dulled with the rising crash of the pounding waves against the jagged rocks below. Taroc Na Mor had healed him once from Mia’s cruelty. Taroc Na Mor would heal him again.
“Leave it, Septamus. I have it under control.” He rolled his shoulders and flexed his neck as he stalked across the wall. “Andspeak no more to me of my past. I am the Guardian’s Protector. That is all.”
Septamus slid from his perch on the highest ledge and stretched his expansive wings to the gusting wind. With a solemn nod, he called back over one scaly shoulder as he caught an updraft and soared into the night. “As you wish. But dishonesty to one's self does greater harm than any dishonesty to others.”
Now this waswhat she had in mind. Hannah released a sigh of pure contentment as she stretched between the cool, crisp sheets. With the perfumed linens pampering her, she appreciated the newly discovered advantages of Draecna-sized furniture. The overstuffed mattress swallowed her in satiny softness. Pure heaven. She could stay in this bed forever. And the scent! Pulling in a slow, appreciative breath, she tried to identify that delicious, sweet fragrance. Lilacs maybe? Not really. Something more delicate. Closer to peonies. The aroma enticed and tempted her senses but fell short of being overpowering. She took another deep, cleansing lungful. Whatever it was, she loved it. Every tensed muscle relaxed as she lost herself to the fragrant caress.
And what was that sound? A delicate chime pinged in the distance; sweet metallic bellsting-tingedlike water droplets tapping against the windowpane. Very soothing. She stretched her arms across the pillows, closing her eyes as she floated along with the melody trickling in the breeze.
“Yeow? Reow!”
A pitiful wail shattered the peacefulness of the room. She jerked upright in the center of the bed, searching for the source of the pleading caterwaul.
A kitten. And it sounded terrified. She searched the room for the poor little mite. “Kitty, kitty, kitty?” She cocked her head and waited, straining to home in on the exact location of the little cat when itsounded again. Where was it? “Come on, kitty. Meow again, so I can find you.”
“Reow . . . reooww!”
The balcony. Floundering free of the depths of the overstuffed bed, she stumbled free of the tangle of covers. She padded barefoot across the lush Turkish carpets to the partially open balcony doors. “There you are! How did you get up there? Did Septamus or Gearlach scare you?”
The balcony faced a private garden where a sprawling oak with gnarled and twisted branches created an intricate canopy covering most of the enclosed courtyard. Perched on a knotted branch, a scruffy, mottle-colored kitten with a white-tipped tail mewled a pitiful song.
She stretched across the railing of the stone balcony and reached for the tiny, wild-eyed cat. “Come here. It’s okay. Come on. You’ll learn you can trust me. Just open your mind and listen.”
The cat flicked a tattered ear in response and perked up straighter on the wavering branch. It whipped its little tail around its haunches and tensed its body into a tighter ball. With its rear hiked higher than the rest of its body, it wiggled as though testing its springing mechanism and launched itself into Hannah’s arms.
