Chapter 12
While her father let the peacekeepers know that he’d requested a dragon’s help and they didn’t need to fine Jildarin for flying within Tranquility’s borders in his native form, Rylana clasped Jildarin’s hand and led him down the path to the dock.
She wanted to speak with him in private.
More, she wanted to hug him in private and thank him for helping her father.
And finally, she hoped to get through to him that he didn’t need to help her father.
“I have no desire to be a human male or anything other than a dragon,” Jildarin said, as they walked out on the dock, holding hands. “But, in this instance, it would have been more convenient.”
“Trust me, Father would have found a bunch of stupid chores for you to do to prove yourself even if you were human. And he would probably be giving you mathematics tests to ensure you’re bright enough to sire smart children.”
“Hm.”
The rain had stopped, but everything was damp.
Rylana thought about guiding Jildarin into the boathouse, but there weren’t furnishings or anything to sit on, only a rowboat and a kayak floating in the water.
It was also a touch claustrophobic inside.
She eyed the end of the dock, wishing the bench that had been there for part of her childhood were there now, though it would have also been damp.
Jildarin must have guessed her conundrum. He spread his hand, and magic rippled in the air about it as waves of heat flowed toward the dock at their feet. Before her eyes, the boards dried.
“You’re wonderful.” Rylana sat cross-legged near the end.
“Yes.” Jildarin adopted a similar position beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.
Emotion welled in her throat at the unspoken intimacy. Emotion and more feeling than she’d expected to have again for a man—a male of any species—after the passing of Captain Maverick.
For a few moments, they sat facing the lake without speaking. Rylana could sense the weariness emanating from Jildarin.
The clouds were breaking, and a ray of sun gleamed on the water.
On the far side of the lake, numerous ships came and went while others were loaded and unloaded, so the docks were bustling.
But on this side, with a lot of reeds, trees, grasses, and land left natural between the estates, it was quiet and peaceful.
A few frogs croaked, and finches, marsh wrens, and red-winged blackbirds chattered as they flew between fluffy cattails.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rylana thought she caught the sparkle of a fairy.
Jildarin yawned, and his eyes closed, as if he might doze off at any moment.
“You’ve been a good sport about my father’s requests, and you’ve done enough for him, all right?” Rylana said quietly.
Jildarin opened his eyes and looked at her. “He has not yet given his blessing.”
“That’s because he’s being manipulative and opportunistic.”
“Yes. Few others could do what I have done, and he is taking advantage of my abilities as a dragon.” Jildarin said the words without indignation or annoyance.
Rylana didn’t know how. She felt those emotions on his behalf. “Yes, he is. It doesn’t matter that he’s my father. Next time he wants something from you, tell him to stuff it.”
“Stuff… it? Like a bell pepper with rice, tomatoes, sausage, and cheese?”
“Exactly like that, yes.” Rylana laughed softly and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Would that offend him?”
“Probably not as much as what I was fantasizing about—shooting him in the butt with an arrow.”
“Is it paradoxical that someone who enjoys and excels at mathematics desires to solve so many problems with violence?”
“No, it’s the whimsical contradiction that is a human female. And, to be fair, there’s math in archery, especially if you’re firing at a distant target. You have to calculate the parabolic trajectory of the arrow.”
“Parabolic trajectory?”
“Yeah.” She made an arcing motion with her hand. “The arrow’s horizontal velocity is relatively steady once it leaves your bow, but gravity pulls it downward with an accelerating force.”
“I see. Perhaps, then, archery is an ideal pastime for you.”
“I think so.”
“I do not believe, however, that your father’s buttocks cheeks are in danger.”
Rylana sighed. “Probably not.”
“I also believe you would like it if he gave his blessing for us to pursue a relationship.”
Sensing his eyes toward her, Rylana lifted her head to look at him. “I’m about to turn thirty-six. Trust me, I don’t need his blessing.”
“But you would like it.”
She scowled and wanted to refute him, but… was he wrong?
Mostly, Rylana wanted her father to stay out of her life and not worry about her marital or maternal status.
But hadn’t she returned to Tranquility, at least in part, because she’d wanted to have a relationship again with her family?
Maybe a better one than she’d had in her youth?
Thus far, she’d only been disappointed by her family, from brother to cousin to father, but…
did some part of her hope that, in time, they might build a new relationship?
One she hadn’t felt with them since her childhood—since before Mom had passed?
“I would like it,” Jildarin said when she hesitated to answer.
He looked toward the lake as a low-flying duck landed with a soft splash and paddled toward the reeds.
“The tome I am referencing is like a cookbook with a recipe to follow. When I am confident in making a dish and in how the flavors will combine and come together, I have no need for a guide, but when I am making something new, perhaps for a species whose palate I am less familiar with, I… like a recipe.”
“Oh,” Rylana said with new understanding.
That was why he was steadfastly carrying that book around and studying it. It offered a step-by-step guide for him to follow to pursue a relationship with a human woman.
She resolved to quit telling Jildarin that he didn’t need to worry about her father’s opinion. She would, however, try again to get Father to give his blessing without further manipulation.
“All right, but if your recipe book says you need to keep doing arduous favors for my father, we should consider hiring an assistant chef for you. Someone who can ease the burden of your many preparations and could maybe even take over a meal service now and then. The diner is profitable enough that we could pay someone, and, based on what I’m hearing from random people around the city, you’ve gained enough fame that a capable young chef ought to be honored to work for you. ”
Jildarin’s, “Hm,” sounded more neutral than interested. He added, “I like preparing meals.”
“I know. I’m glad you enjoy your work, but everyone needs a break now and then. You work a lot. You’re kind of amazing.” Rylana leaned her head on his shoulder again and linked her arm with his.
Jildarin found her fingers for a clasp while he absorbed her words. “Kind of?”
“I mean you’re extremely amazing.”
“Yes.” He leaned his face close to her head, and did he breathe in her scent?
It was too bad he would need to leave soon to start the dinner service. She was rethinking her decision not to visit the boathouse. Despite its lack of furnishings, it was private. They could have shared a kiss without possible witnesses.
“You said the anniversary of the date of your birth approaches,” Jildarin said. “You will celebrate this? I have read that it is important to humans.”
“Not necessarily. I’m turning thirty-six, not six.”
“You do not require a gift?”
“No, but thank you for asking.”
“Jewelry is a typical gift for human females, is it not? I have not observed you wearing bracelets or ear or neck wear.”
“You already got me a gift, Jildarin. That bedroom set is all I ever dreamed of and more.”
“I purchased that so you would remain in my lair.”
“It worked.”
“It was perhaps more of a bribe than a gift.”
“I love it.”
“There are magical necklaces that offer protection,” Jildarin said. “Given how often you are in danger, that could be a functional as well as aesthetically pleasing choice.”
“Look, if you feel compelled to get me something, I’d really like an assistant chef for the diner.”
“You desire that to ease my burden. That would be a gift for me.”
“You could teach him or her to make me coffee-rubbed bacon.”
His second, “Hm,” was a little more thoughtful.
His consideration—no, all of him—made her ache with longing. She gazed up at his handsome face, his beautiful green eyes, and wondered how the soul of a poet—and a chef—somehow existed within the body of a powerful dragon. How rude of her father to call him savage.
Jildarin returned her gaze, his eyelids drooping, and he lifted a hand to brush her cheek.
Clunks drifted across the lake, the ferry arriving again at this shoreline.
Rylana glanced in that direction, reminded unpleasantly of her conversation with Jildarin’s sister.
And that she’d had the audacity to tell her to talk Jildarin into mating with female dragons so that they might permit Rylana to live.
She didn’t want to share him with some overbearing fanged and scaled bitch.
She wanted him to be with someone who made him happy. She wanted him to be with her.
Jildarin traced her jaw with his fingers, turning her chin so that she looked at him again. As if he knew her thoughts—and agreed with them—he kissed her. Delighted, Rylana turned her full attention to him.
He’d grown in confidence and certainty since the last time they kissed—maybe the book had some pointers on that—and tasted her lips without hesitation.
She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders, pulling herself closer to him and returning his kiss with enthusiasm and her growing love.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and stroked her through her clothing, strong fingers kneading the tight muscles of her back.