Chapter 5 #3
The central area mimicked an outdoor patio and was dominated by an elaborate mosaic featuring images of dragons in flight, with a scattering of starlings as well, because someone had a sense of humour once upon a time.
Noah Turner was kneeling in the middle of it, his jacket off and shirtsleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, surrounded by teacup dragons.
His hair was the colour of toffee in the sunlight, and looked as if he’d just run his fingers through it.
The dragons flitted around him like hummingbirds, iridescent and colourful.
The light gilded him, but he didn’t notice her.
He was holding out both his hands, perfectly flat with little pieces of chopped dates on them.
Every so often one of the dragons would work up the courage to dart down and snatch a piece from him.
They’d make off like the little shimmering bandits they were, crowing in triumph, their wings a blur of colour and light, while the others circled furtively, making slightly jealous noises.
Probably hoping the intrepid hero would drop their prize and they could steal it without getting too close to the new person who had been thrust into their world.
Noah smiled up at them. Portia could only stare.
He didn’t look like he had in the inn, not any more.
He had such a contented smile, a man lost in pleasure as he let the teacup dragons acclimatise themselves to him, to build the bond of trust that would let him care for them.
She wasn’t sure she had ever seen anyone look so at peace with themselves.
At the same time there was no doubting the wonder in his eyes.
It made him unexpectedly handsome. Her stomach did a bewildering little twist and Jade spread her wings, jerking at the jesses, eager to fly. It was all Portia could do to hold on to her.
‘There you are.’ Iris’s voice interrupted Portia’s irrational thoughts. ‘Noah is getting to know our little tribe. He’s very popular already. How are you, Portia, my dear?’
Now that Portia saw her great-aunt here, in so familiar a place, the way she was nestled in one of the raffia-work chairs with the high back, almost swallowed in a sea of cushions, she could see what Ophelia meant.
Iris looked frail. She had tea laid out before her on a side table but hadn’t poured it yet.
There was a blanket over her lap and she looked…
small. Fragile. And the most impossible thing of all. She looked old.
Noah started as he realised Portia was there, and the teacup dragons look flight, right up to the top of the orangery, darting in amongst leaves and flowers. He got to his feet, clearing his throat, and gave Portia a truly awkward bow in greeting.
‘Lady Portia,’ he said, uncomfortably. ‘I – I feel I should apologise for when we first met. I didn’t—’
Iris gave a most unladylike snort. ‘Oh, enough of that. We don’t hold with formalities here, do we, Portia?
No time or place for it. There are too many titles flying around the place to start insisting on them.
First names, Noah, as I told you. And that goes for my great-nieces and nephews as well.
We have work to do, children. Portia, stop clinging to poor Jadis like she’s a comfort blanket.
She’s safe here. If she wants to fly, let her fly. ’
‘Jade,’ Portia said absently. ‘Her name is Jade.’ She didn’t want to use the ridiculous kennel names that breeders like Harvey gave the dragons. She held on to the jesses anxiously. A comfort blanket. Honestly.
Iris fixed her with a stern glare. Portia eyed the jam, cream and scones arrayed on the table beside the teapot and the fine porcelain cups.
On your head be it, she thought ruefully, and released the dragon. Jade took wing, soaring high over them and Noah gave an unexpected laugh as she dived towards him, circling around him silently, before coming to rest on his shoulder. She nuzzled into his neck the same way she had with Portia.
‘Well, someone’s flavour of the month,’ said Iris. ‘At this rate we’ll all lose our dragons to you, Dr Turner. Chosen over cake. You’re honoured.’
He scratched the underside of Jade’s throat affectionately. ‘She’s probably just looking for attention…’ He gave another soft laugh and then unfurled his fingers, the treats with which he had been tempting the others still in his hand. ‘Or dates.’
Jade darted down for one and sat back on his perfectly defined lower arm, nibbling at her prize delicately, her tail wrapped around his wrist.
Dates with Noah, Portia thought, her cheeks heating. He really did have the most beautiful hands. And his forearms could have been sculpted by a master.
No… no, she couldn’t be thinking about anything like that.
A little flustered at whatever was going on here, she took her seat and busied herself with refreshments so she didn’t have to look at him.
She poured her aunt a cup of tea, and then one for herself.
As she looked to Noah to ask if he wanted one, Jade launched herself from his shoulder.
She landed on the saucer of Portia’s cup, curling around it, her wings raised to mantle it.
She let out a long, contented sigh as she settled down.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Portia murmured to her, surprised at the gesture. ‘Not any more.’
‘It appears that she wants to,’ Iris told her, with a note of fascination.
‘It’s a gesture of affection,’ Noah said.
‘The breeders took a natural instinct and adapted it to suit the nomenclature. It isn’t about the teacup, although they appreciate the warmth I suspect.
She’s protecting what’s yours. The behaviour is borrowed from their cousins, the great dragons.
They are very protective of their family. ’
The thought that Jade considered her family was unexpectedly comforting.
Portia found herself smiling up at Noah like an idiot before she remembered herself.
And that it was him. She looked away to meet Iris’s keen gaze.
And then recalled, a little too late, exactly how meddlesome her family could be.
‘So, Ophelia tells me you need employment while you’re here.’
Portia sighed. Of course she had.