Chapter 27
“ W hat have you done, Lorna?” he insisted.
“I—I…” I was speechless. I wanted to defend myself. To protest, “I’ve done nothing! I had a right to see who held me captive.” I could not bribe my tongue to move or my mouth to utter speech.
The man’s focus shifted from my shocked, horrified face to the candle in my hand. He kept one hand on my waist—a subtle reminder that I was not free to leave—and with the other he plucked the glowing candle stump from my palm. He examined it briefly before his gaze flitted back to my face.
“This was your mother’s doing, was it not?”
I could not deny it. He had warned me. I’d simply chosen not to listen.
“Yes,” I whispered, feeling ashamed. Ashamed that I had allowed my mother to pressure me into this choice. “The idea was hers,” I explained. “However, the decision to do it was mine. ”
I would not let Mama take the full brunt of the blame. Not when I’d made my own choices. Mama had put the candle in my hand, but Lorna had struck the flame. Lorna had kissed her sleeping captor. Lorna had wakened the beast. If he were to be angry, if he were to wreak havoc on someone, let his wrath fall upon me, not my mother.
“I feared so,” the man said. His fingers squeezed into a fist, crushing the flame, extinguishing the light. At once, we were cast into darkness. Through the thin fabric of my nightdress, I still felt the warmth, the weight of his fingers on my hip. Soberly, he said, “I had a premonition your mother’s counsel would be the ruin of us. I warned you not to be alone with her.”
“You did,” I agreed. “But…”
My mouth was dry. I wasn’t going to argue with my captor, which could be a foolhardy endeavor. And yet…memories of his face and the care lines on his brow, as well as his kindness toward me, prompted me to speak.
“But you had no right to take me from my home, to keep me here, or to forbid me being alone with my own mother. You’d no right to do any of this, Dragon. How can you be angry with me that I disobeyed your rules?”
Silence. I wished it was not dark. I wished I could read his expression. All I could make out was the gleam of his golden eyes as they studied me. Finally, sadly, he replied,
“You are not wrong, Lorna. I had no right to do any of it. I’d simply hoped…”
His voice trailed off. He did not verbalize what he’d hoped. Instead, he sighed, allowing his hand to fall from my waist onto the bed beside my thigh.
“It was foolish to hope. Foolish to hope you could save me when you have no obligation to do so. What is done is done. It’s over. ”
His words may have been a death knell, they were so final. So sad.
“I don’t understand. What is over? What were you hoping I’d do?” I snapped, frustrated. “You explained nothing. You took me prisoner and gave orders. That is what you did, Dragon. If you desired my help, why not ask it?”
“I couldn’t,” he replied. Despite the gloom, I could see him shaking his head. “It was forbidden under the terms of the curse.
“Never mind, Lorna. It matters not. You will go home, and I will bear the consequences. The matter is finished.”
So saying, he stood, climbing off the bed, leaving me sitting there in the dark.
“Stop!”
Filled with a sudden impetuosity, an uncharacteristic boldness, I barked the order. Not only did I bark the order, I leapt off the bed after him, grabbing his arm to keep him from vanishing into the shadows.
“Stop, Dragon. You go nowhere until you explain yourself. Why did you bring me here? How did looking upon you—how did kissing you—” I gulped down embarrassment at the admission. “—How did those things ruin…what you meant to accomplish? What curse do you speak of?
“And, for the sake of all the Powers of Good, could we please have some light? I am tired of this wretched gloom!”
I suppose it was a good thing he was a lenient captor and not a torturer. Anyone else in a position of power might have gotten angry at my remonstrances. Not the dragon. Instead, he chuckled, albeit there was a note of sadness beneath the humor.
“I suppose having light at this point matters not. After all, you’ve seen me, and the matter is finished. ”
“What matter? What curse?” I insisted. My fingers unintentionally clutched his arm a little tighter. I would not let him go—not until he provided answers.
“I will answer that if you will tell me why you kissed me,” he replied.
Shocked, I released him.
He chuckled, and I heard his footsteps as he walked away. What action he performed, I did not know. I heard him mumble strange, soft words in a foreign tongue, then the cavern lit up with the customary glow of daylight hours.
“What did you do?” I asked softly, as he returned to me.
He shrugged his shoulders—broad shoulders, shoulders that looked capable of heavy labor, of wielding a weapon, or protecting a woman.
Merciful Light. I should not have such thoughts!
“I asked the cave to give us light,” he answered quietly, “and it responded.”
“You asked the cave—what do you mean, you asked the cave? A cave cannot hear!”
“This is a cave of magic, ancient and deep,” he answered. “I told you at the beginning that it holds the very heart of Aerisia’s magic. You’ve not been blind to its wonders?”
Of course I hadn’t. It had provided my food, my light, and seen to my every necessity.
“I assumed they were invisible servants,” I admitted, a little embarrassed. “Servants who came and went, unseen. Sent by you to care for me.”
“You were not entirely wrong,” he replied with a soft little smile. “I asked the cave to care for you; to see to your needs and keep you safe. ”
“And did you also ask it to keep me prisoner?” I challenged, drawing back my shoulders and lifting my chin. “The cave would never permit me beyond certain boundaries.”
“Forgive me, Lorna. I could not allow you to leave. It was through no ill intent. I would never have harmed you. I simply hoped…”
This time, he stopped. His words were full of sadness. Longing.
“What did you hope?” I pressed softly, the resistance, the anger melting in the face of his sorrow.
Rather than reply directly, he quirked a crooked smile.
“I will tell you that when you answer why you kissed me,” he said again, choosing to press the matter.
Curse him! Of all I’d said, done, or argued, did that have to be the one thing he picked out from the rest?
Even though I’d insisted upon having light, I now longed for the cover of darkness to hide the blush rising in my cheeks.
“I—I—to be blunt, I am not certain why I kissed you,” I admitted haltingly. “I should not have. You took me from my home and imprisoned me in a cave. I should hate you. Yet, when I saw your face…”
I stopped, swallowing down the emotions that rose in my chest when I remembered the sight of his face. He should not have made me feel anything as strongly as I had, particularly desire. Warmth. Compassion.
Love.
To my astonishment, his features softened. The lines around his eyes and across his brow vanished in the gentleness of the look he bestowed upon me. Lifting his hand, he brought it to my face, gently touching my cheek with his fingertips. When I stood still, not fighting or resisting, he boldly cupped my entire cheek in his large palm, at the same time stepping closer to me .
No other man had touched me so intimately. My breath hitched in my chest. I could not tear my gaze from his. I could have drowned in the tenderness of his stare.
“Lorna of the Jeweled Isles.” He spoke my name in his distinct Warkin accent, and my name on his tongue might as well have been a verbal caress. “That is because you are my mate. Fate, or the Powers of Good, or my people’s guardians, have determined you should be mine and I should be yours. I felt that connection through your father’s bloodline, the night I saved him from the sea. I knew you were the one. The only one.”
“You claim I’m your mate, but I don’t even know your name,” I said, reaching up to cover his hand on my cheek with my own. “You must have a name besides Dragon. What am I to call you?”
“I’d hoped that you would call me husband,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eye.
I stepped back, aghast, forcing his hand to fall away. “Husband? Are you mad?”
“Perhaps,” he answered, a little sadly. “But you are my mate. I’d hoped to make you my wife. And I’d hoped that you would be the one to save me.”
I stood there, stunned by the weight of his words. The cavern’s soft, early-morning glow cast the bold planes of his face and the tattoos across his neck into deep conflicts of midnight blue and white.
“I am Kidron,” he said quietly. “Son of the Warkin Highest. And I am cursed, Lorna. I hoped you would break that curse. Alas, now it can never be.”