Highland Dragons

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

INTERVIEW WITH A DRAGON

Kate was younger and more beautiful than he had expected, and, for a moment, he wondered if she had been sent by his enemies to distract him. And there was something else about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Visually, the woman’s long red hair, captured in a ponytail, shone like polished copper and tempted him to free it so he could fist a hank and draw her close. Tendrils had escaped and decorated her brow with whorls of brilliant gold. She kept her distance to survey him with astonishingly striking emerald-green eyes as he appraised her and attempted to read her, which, surprisingly, failed.

“I’ve made a bad impression,” she said. “Can we start again?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she smiled and said, “Good evening, my lord, ” in a pleasant and confident tone.

Six foot four, in rough-hewn Highland dress of kilt and sporran, plaid secured across his shoulders with an ancient dragon clan badge, he was a formidable sight, but Ms. Trent didn’t falter. Instead, she took her time to appraise him. Her gaze lingered on his legs before tracking up to take in his blood-red plaid, dropping again to regard his sgian dubh, the deadly Scottish dagger pushed down his sock. He liked her more and more. Mouse-sized Ms. Trent had moxie.

“Good evening. Welcome to Kildear Castle, Ms. Trent.”

Eyes steady on his, she came toward him. Her hand was small, but her handshake was firm. “Thank you for inviting me. I feel awkward not knowing what to call you,” she admitted.

“Torran?”

“Torran,” she repeated, taking her time over his name as if she liked the taste of it on her tongue.

“What may I call you?” he thought it only polite to ask.

“Ms. Trent,” she said pleasantly.

Game on.

“Please sit down, Ms. Trent.” He indicated a chair in front of the blazing log fire.

“I’m okay standing, thank you. I’ve been seated for most of the day. Can you spare the time for an interview now, or would you prefer it to be later?”

“Later doesn’t suit me. The Gathering?” he reminded her.

“Ah, yes, your party.”

Her voice was pleasant, and her mouth was eminently kissable, but behind her eyes, a keen brain was working. His dragon was right. He would do well to be on his guard around this woman. And there was another problem. The dragon in him wanted her now, but beneath her bravado, Ms. Trent was untried, and this demanded a certain amount of consideration from his human side.

In every other way, she appeared canny and bold. According to the résumé she’d submitted, Ms. Trent was fresh out of university and barely twenty-two years old. Storm magazine was her first job, and this was her first assignment. Should he be flattered or insulted?

“I’ll give you ten minutes. Your questions?” he pressed.

While she gathered herself, he ran a mind search. Popular, yet isolated by choice, Kate Trent lived in a cramped bedsit in an unfashionable part of London, where she spent much of her time in a make-believe world. The contrast between them was so stark, he almost laughed. A notoriously ruthless leader of the Dragon Overlords, designated protectors of Earth and Thorgar, he was battle-hardened and cynical, while Kate Trent might as well have had softening influence tattooed on her forehead.

Those legs… OMG… Torran Kildear should never be allowed to cover them. Tanned, hard, muscled, and shaded with just the right amount of dark hair, they made Kate’s body pulse to a wanton rhythm.

Praise be for kilts. Praise be for shoulders wide enough to hoist an ox—and a huge praise be for dark, all-seeing eyes that could command and seduce all in the same instant?—

Pull yourself together! You’re here to work!

Kate’s heart was thundering, and for once in her life, she was speechless—which wasn’t exactly helpful when she was here to ask the colossus in front of her questions.

“Ten minutes, I said. And for goodness’ sake, sit!”

Like a jackrabbit caught in headlights, she obeyed upon the instant. And immediately thought, What the hell? Resentment flared at the way Laird Torran could command her—and raged out of control when she saw triumph in his eyes. Did he really think she was so easy to manipulate?

Well, you’ve proved him right so far.

Being perched on the edge of an easy chair with the Laird of Kildear towering over her made it impossible to assert herself, Kate reasoned sensibly. “Won’t you sit down?” she suggested.

Torran showed no sign of sitting anywhere. “Ten minutes, and you’ve wasted two of them already.”

Don’t antagonize him, she warned herself. Torran was doing his best to unnerve her. That wasn’t hard with a blazing log fire behind him making him look like a dark angel from hell with his wild black hair, sharp black stubble, and an expression to frighten the horses, but she had to make a start?—

“Have you completed your inventory, Ms. Trent?”

The top half, anyway. “Excuse me for staring. It’s just that I don’t often get the chance to see a man in full Highland dress.” Or undress, Kate’s imagination prompted.

One sweeping ebony brow lifted as the laird searched her eyes. “I trust you approve?”

His tone of voice suggested that Torran Kildear couldn’t care less if Kate approved or not—but she did approve, very much indeed.

His clan badge featured a rampant dragon with a red stone at its heart that seemed to glow with hidden fire, almost as if it were alive. Dragging her fascinated gaze away, she noticed that beneath the plaid, there was a billowing, soft white shirt with ties at the neck that had been left undone to reveal a tempting glimpse of strong, hard chest. There was something primal about the Laird of Kildear, Kate decided, that made her nipples peak and every other erotic zone she possessed flare into life.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he prompted.

Self-consciously covering her chest with her hand, Kate guessed she’d answered one or two. “My apologies. It’s just that there’s so much to take in here.”

A hum greeted this, and without consulting a timepiece, he remarked, “Four minutes and counting.”

Okay, then. “On the drive from the airport, I noticed something in the sky. At first, I thought it was a cloud, but it moved too quickly, and it was too big for a bird.” She paused, but the laird said nothing. “Do you have an explanation?” she prompted.

“No.”

She sensed he was hiding something and getting to the truth might take more time than they had. “Shall we leave this for another time?”

Torran Kildear’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll learn more from the Gathering tonight.”

More than I’m learning from you, she thought, pressing her lips into the semblance of a smile. “A great research opportunity,” she confirmed.

Torran’s gaze had changed from hard to assessing, Could he read her? Did he know everything about her, like her stupid body going wild for him?

A man as good-looking as the laird must see this sort of reaction all the time, Kate reasoned. Her body was far too easily impressed. “I’ll leave you now,” she said, getting up. “My apologies for disturbing you so close to the Gathering. We’ll need more time for a proper interview.”

“You make it sound like a threat,” he murmured.

“No threat. I look forward to talking again.”

“Your enthusiasm does you credit,” he said in a voice turned husky and hypnotic.

That voice was like a love spell to keep close and take to bed. Shaking herself around, she said brightly, “See you at the Gathering,” and made her way to the door.

“Let me make one thing clear,” the laird called after her, “you will show me everything you write before you publish.”

She froze. Kate had never submitted her work to the thought police. Bill, her editor, yes, because Bill had every right to say yea or nay to Kate’s work, but even then, she’d fight to keep words she believed in.

Turning, she saw Torran’s expression had changed as if he’d read her thoughts. Mumbling something to the effect that she hadn’t begun to think about the article yet, she threw what she hoped was a reassuring smile in his direction. “I should go and settle in?—”

How had Torran arrived at the door before her? It wasn’t possible, yet here he was, towering over her. “Before you go,” he growled, “tell me how it feels to be a journalist prying into other people’s lives.”

“You invited me here,” she countered, but his voice was doing something to her brain. A deep, husky baritone cradled in smoke, he muddled her thoughts. What else could he do? Kate wondered groggily.

“You will tell me everything before I share my story. That’s only fair, don’t you think, Ms. Trent?”

Did he care what was fair? Did he care what she thought? Kate doubted it. The laird had some weird control over her thoughts, and the fog was growing denser.

“Later.”

That one word broke the spell. She was free and even jerked back as if invisible bindings had been released. Was this magic, or was she just overtired?

A faint smile curved Torran’s mouth. His very masculine interest was as obvious as it was inexplicable. Surely, the laird was used to women who knew the score and who could deliver on erotic promise. Kate didn’t have a clue outside of her beloved romance novels. Why would a man like Torran Kildear waste time on a virgin dreamer?

Why not?

She shook her head to get rid of the thought, but it refused to budge, and her body thrilled at the thought of being handled by an expert. Time to get a grip, or this mission would fail. “I’m sure my ten minutes is up. And I don’t need to stay here tonight. I have a room at the local inn.”

“And have you miss a moment of the Gathering? I can’t agree to that.”

Opening the door, he stood back, saying, “I’ll have someone show you to your room.”

Bill’s face flew into her mind. That was the only thing keeping her here. “Thank you.”

He leaned in close. “Don’t mention it.”

Smartass. Gorgeous ass. Imagine how firm those buttocks must be beneath the pleats of his kilt?—

“Come here, and I’ll show you.”

She almost fainted with shock, and then realized that Torran was no longer at her side, but standing in front of the window, staring out. How had that happened?

“I thought you’d like to see the birth of a storm,” he said, swinging the window wide open. “This is what you’ve come to see, isn’t it?”

The knowing expression in his eyes made her cheeks blaze red.

“Ms. Trent?”

“Kate,” she said on a dry throat as she joined him at the window.

“Come here, Kate. First impressions?”

Her name on his tongue was a shock to the senses. The storm, she thought, was like a fanfare for the devil.

“Nothing to say?” he pressed.

“Only that I’m keeping you.” But she had noticed something else. There were deep grooves on the stonework outside the window. Gouges clawed into the rail of the balcony, as if it provided a landing perch for some gigantic bird.

Chills gripped her. What the hell was going on here?

“You okay?” Torran asked as she turned to go.

“Fine,” she lied. Countless articles had been written about the meticulous restoration of Kildear Castle, so how had the stonemasons missed the damage?

Kate’s imagination fired off in all directions. Had she stumbled across a bigger story than even she’d thought? Was it safe here? Was there a great deal more to worry about than an orgy and a few drams too many?

Whatever the case, she’d gather all the information she could. “See you later,” she called back, and with that, she escaped the relentlessly probing stare of the best-looking devil this side of hell.