She thumped down onto her shapely bottom, as if her knees had gone weak.
“We will go in, if we can,” he told her. “I restored the stones, but they still might not work. If they do, the gate will open at twilight. I mean to have the curse lifted.”
He wanted that more than he’d ever wanted anything. And yet, deep down, a part of him suddenly wished that the stone circle wouldn’t work.
Chapter Seven
Draknart lay on his belly,his nose filled with Einin’s soft scent as she washed and dressed his wound, using a strip torn from the bottom of her shirt.
“’Tis not necessary, sweeting,” he said, all the while oddly liking the fuss she made.
“I can’t just leave you to bleed.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, then looked away. “You took me flying and swimming. You fed me. You kept me warm in the night.”
Her hands were small and delicate, her touch soft, yet he knew her arms were strong enough to wield a sword. Wispy locks of hair escaped her braid, creating a halo of sunshine around her head.
“Why have you been cursed?” she asked, meeting his eyes at last.
A cough rumbled around in his chest. She was not going to like this tale. Then again, ’twas not as if she liked much about him. None of her kind did. He was reviled.
For a moment, he wished it could be different, that he were a different kind of beast, that mayhap he hadn’t done all he’d done in the past centuries. But the past was the past, and he was the beast he was, no help for it.
“A hundred years ago or so,” he said, “I came upon Belisama’s priestesses at the river as they were tossing flower wreaths into the water for her as their gifts. They were comely lasses. We had a bit o’ fun.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Meaning you swived them, then you ate them?”
He flinched.
She took that as a confirmation and shook her head with a sad look but did not stop caring for him.
“I deserved the curse.” He hung his head. Then he looked up again. “But it’s been a hundred years. Could Belisama not forgive me?” An exasperated grunt escaped him. “I tried to swive you, then eat you. You’ve forgiven me, and you’re just a wee maiden.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I have?”
“Haven’t you?”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “Can I blame a beast for being a beast?”
“You make me want to be less beastly.” The words came out unbidden. And since he was making no sense, he went all the way. “Should I then be more like the knights?”
He glanced toward the lake where he could pick up the splashing sounds Jon of Fernwood made as he swam for the opposite shore.
“You’re not entirely insufferable as a dragon.” She kept washing him, the wound deeper and longer than he’d first thought. “But you should not eat any villagers.”
“Not even if they come to my cave?”
“Not even. You are fearsome enough to scare them away.”
Every time she touched him, the touch tingled across his skin, and an unfamiliar energy surged through him.
Einin of Downwood made his heart live.
If dragons could love, he might be able to love one such as her. Of course, she could probably never love a beast like him. A dark mood settled over Draknart at the thought.
He watched her. Aye, she was fine. She was certainly fit for a god. Trouble was, Draknart was no longer sure he wanted to give her to Belinus.
