Firedrake - By Bianca D'Arc Page 0,30
He pitched his voice low, to skate along her nerves. He knew he’d hit his mark when he saw her shiver.
He would have followed up on the small victory, but Mrs. Pritchard bustled over. Drake stood to receive her friendly hug as she marveled over how much he’d grown. The older woman had been one of his favorite people in Castleton, both for her excellent cooking and her understanding wisdom. Many times, he’d sought refuge here after one of his father’s rebuffs. Mrs. Pritchard fussed over him, nearly coming to tears when he leaned down to kiss the motherly lady on the cheek.
It touched him deeply that she remembered him. He’d thought at the time he was just one of many youngsters who clamored after the woman, eager for one of her sticky buns. He was pleased to learn she’d felt genuine affection for the troubled boy he’d been and seemed proud of the man he’d become.
They talked for a few moments before the business of the inn called her away. When he sat back down at the table, Krysta was eyeing him.
“She loves you.”
“I love her too. She’s a very special woman.” He tossed his napkin on his lap, trying to be nonchalant. Truth was, the woman’s greeting had thrown him more than he liked. His emotions were much closer to the surface than usual. “She has a soft heart and a kindness for strays. Hmm. Maybe I am a dog after all.” He chuckled, settling back in his chair as little Mary brought their breakfast on two metal plates.
They ate and chatted while Krysta fell a little more under Drake’s spell. She felt the impact of his cultured voice and knew he was fully aware of how it affected people. Especially females.
Her insides jumped as she watched him lick the honey residue from the sticky buns off his elegant fingers. They were tapered and long, with little calluses from playing stringed instruments. The calluses were easy to see on the tips of his fingers as they moved, both nimble and dexterous. She wondered what such talented fingers would feel like on her skin. Would he play her body as skillfully as he played his lute?
A rush of disquiet filled her. She’d made love with Mace. She shouldn’t be thinking of another man in a carnal way so soon after making a commitment to the young knight. It was disloyal, and it wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t indulge in casual sex. Sharing herself with Mace represented a very real step forward toward a relationship with him.
Krysta didn’t rush into intimacy. Not since her foolish youth. But Mace was a different story. After knowing him only a short time, she felt strongly enough about him to trust him with her body. That was a big step for her and one she didn’t take lightly. So why then was she feeling this unreasonable attraction for the roguish bard?
She knew full well Drake could have his pick of women and she’d be damned if she’d be just another notch on his belt. Still, Drake didn’t strike her as insincere, and he certainly wasn’t a cad. He was honest about his appreciation of women, regardless of their age. She’d seen him treat the young Pritchard girl with the same teasing respect he gave her mother, the same caring concern and desire to make them smile. He might be a rogue, but he was a kind one and that combination, Krysta discovered, was dangerous indeed.
“So what fills your days, Krysta? I know you’re a Guard, but are you always on patrol or have you some other duty?”
The question drew her back to the moment and reminded her of her job. Judging by the sun’s position, she had only a short time left before she must begin her work day.
“I train the new recruits in weaponless fighting. Many of us share that duty, but in fact—” she wiped her mouth as she finished her breakfast, “—today it’s my turn. I have a nice class of talented young men and women waiting for me.”
“Ah, Jinn freehand fighting? That’s a skill I learned many years ago, though I was too large for many of the more intricate movements—or so the armsmaster said.”
“You might be at that.” She looked him over with a considering eye. “I’d almost forgotten that Drake of the Five Lands was adopted of the Jinn. What clan are you?”
“Black Dragon.” He said it casually, though they both knew the Black Dragon Clan