Slayer (10 page)

Eleanor gasped. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve read the scrolls myself.”

“You read?”

He nodded.

“How very studious of you.”

Peacock ignored her jibe and pulled her close so that she had to crane her neck to look up at him when he spoke. “What’s it going to be, Your Highness? Take your chances on that dragon-slaying princess having pure blood, or accept me by your side as your equal?”

Chapter Ten

Brea climbed the ridiculous ladder that was now required for her to reach the top of her bed. Twenty feather mattresses. She counted them as she climbed.
“Nothing but the best for our guest,”
the queen had assured her. Not likely! But Brea had promised Cahill she would spend one more night. Promised him she’d think over his proposal and give him her final answer in the morning.

She could have ridden out. She had the seven bags of gold in payment for the slaughter of the dragons. Seven bags of gold would last her a long time. A lifetime, if she was careful. There was no reason for her to stay in the castle one more night. Except that she couldn’t leave. The thought of never seeing Cahill again sent a chill through her bones and pierced her heart. The idea of leaving, of returning to a life of solitude, hunting dragons—alone, staying in flea-ridden beds—never knowing the comfort of a warm body by her side, her only companion her horse. The thought of returning to the life she’d lead for the last five years no longer held the same appeal.

She was a fool.

Cahill wanted her. He loved her. He’d told her so, over and over and over again.

And she wanted Cahill.

Suddenly Brea sat up in bed because she could no longer remember her reasons for refusing him. For the first time, everything became clear. She loved him. She loved Cahill! She wouldn’t give anything up by marrying him. She would gain a lover, a companion and a friend. With Cahill by her side, Brea could start living life all over again.

Now that she’d had her revelation, it took great restraint not to run out the door, down the hall, find Cahill’s chamber and throw herself in his arms. But it was late, and she was suddenly exhausted, from the travel, from the battle, from everything. Though she loved him with all her heart and could hardly wait to tell the whole world, a part of her also wanted to hold on to the knowledge for just this night. To keep this one last thing to herself; at least until morning. Then, when the sun rose, she would go to his chamber, accept his proposal and make love to him, trying out that thing he said some women liked to do.

It was only moments later, as Brea imagined just how that act might be performed, that she fell into an exhausted, dreamless slumber. Sometime in the middle of the night, however, Brea was roused by something hard poking her in the back. “Errrghh,” she mumbled and rolled over. But the poking didn’t stop.

“Princess,” a voice slurred in her ear, “wake up.”

Brea rolled toward the voice and smacked into a warm and fully naked male body. Her eyelids flew open, though it made no difference. The room was completely dark. “Cahill?” she whispered.

“Ummph,” came his reply along with the sour stench of Brandy wine on his breath.

“Och, Cahill, you’re drunk.” She gave him a nudge with her elbow.

“Drunk on love,” he slurred as he reached for her in the dark. His clumsy hands fumbled sloppily with the bedclothes and her nightdress.

Brea slapped his hands away. “Cahill, enough! Go back to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I’m already in bed. The only bed I want to be in,” he murmured as he grappled her breasts, squeezing too hard, hurting her.

“I said stop!” Brea brought her knee up. She didn’t intend to have her knee land where it did, but she also didn’t try to avoid that sensitive area between his legs.

Cahill groaned and curled around his injury.

“Serves you right,” Brea muttered as she kicked at his back with her feet. “Now go back to your own bed!”

The growl started as a low rumble from beside her and then grew. “She-devil!” Cahill spat as he turned and threw himself on top of her. “You’ll pay for that.” His slobbering mouth fell upon hers, forcing her lips apart, driving his tongue down her throat. Brea tried to kick free, but his weight bore her into the suffocating mounds of mattresses beneath her.

Everything was all wrong. Cahill’s kisses, his body, his anger, his voice. This was not the Cahill she loved. This was not a man she wanted to marry. This was her nightmare version of marriage come true.

“You like it rough, Princess?” he slobbered in her ear.

“Yeah,” Brea sobbed. “I like it rough.” Then she slipped her hand beneath the pillow and withdrew her dagger, slashing blindly in front of her.

“My hand!” he cried. “Why, you bloody bitch.”

But Brea didn’t give him another chance to attack. With both legs she kicked him from her bed. Cahill tumbled back, his body thudding dully against the wooden floor, twenty mattresses beneath her. “And don’t even think about coming back or I will kill you.”

She heard him rise slowly to his feet. He fumbled blindly in the dark, finally found the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Brea dropped the dagger, covered her face and wept.

At the break of dawn, Brea dressed, her traveling cloak around her shoulders, her purse of gold hidden beneath her tunic, her heart empty and desolate. She felt as if her soul had died and left her body drained and numb. With slow steps she descended the stairs to the foyer where the queen waited with the captain of the guard by her side, probably having been alerted to her departure by the footman she’d asked to ready her mount.

As Brea approached, the queen stepped into her path and said, “My dear, I’m so sorry to see you l—”

“Get out of my way.” Caring nothing for the queen’s gasp of surprise, Brea pushed roughly past her. She had her sights set on the door. She had to get out. Now.

Just as she felt the doors swing out beneath her hands, she heard the unmistakable sound of rapid footfalls down stairs. Her empty heart dropped into her stomach, and suddenly all of the emotions that eluded her returned with a vengeance.

“Brea! Wait!”

Brea ran. She ran for the stables where Elrond stood, saddled and waiting. With a hop she was on his back and riding hard across the courtyard.

“Stop!”

Brea kicked Elrond into a gallop, only to have to pull up on the reins as she came upon a closed drawbridge. “Open the bridge!” she shouted to the keeper.

To her relief, the bridge started to move under the loud clanking of chains against cogs.

“Stop! Stop that bridge!” Cahill ordered as he sprinted toward her only a few hundred paces behind.

With a thunderous squeal, the drawbridge ceased its movement. Brea cursed and then spun Elrond around to face her once-again nemesis. “What do you want?” she scowled.

Now that it was obvious she could not leave, Cahill slowed his stride. He put his hands up in supplication. “Please, Brea. Wait. There’s something I need to say.”

“You said everything you needed to last night.”

“What?” He paused and then continued. “I just wanted to tell you that I don’t want to marry you.”

“You don’t…” Brea didn’t think her heart could break into any more pieces. But it could and it did. “You’re no better than any of them, do you know that? You’re a stinking, filthy, rutting pig.” Brea sat straight and tall in her saddle. She looked down her nose at the man who stood beneath her. The man she’d thought she loved. The man who’d hurt her worse than even the dragon who’d scarred her. With a flare of her nostrils, she sucked all the moisture from her mouth and spat on the ground by the side of his boot. She turned back toward the bridge and said, “Tell the keeper to lower the bridge.”

She didn’t hear him give the command—perhaps it was as simple as a flick of his wrist—but the bridge roared to life and Brea closed her eyes to wait as tears gathered behind her lids. But all she could see was Cahill. His expression, pale and crushed. His hands held out to her, pleading with her; open, strong, those hands had given her such pleasure.

Frowning, Brea realized there was something wrong with the picture in her mind. What was it? Suddenly she spun her horse around, finding Cahill standing in the very same position she’d left him, as if she’d turned him to stone. “Show me your hands.”

“What?”

She rode up to his side, leaned over Elrond’s back and grabbed his arm. She flipped his right hand over. Nothing. Not a scratch. “Show me your left.” Cahill gave her his hand. She inspected it. Again, nothing. Brea nearly fell off her horse. She shut her eyes and drew a deep breath. It wasn’t him last night. It wasn’t him!

Cahill snatched his hands from hers and drew his sword. His movement was so sudden Brea was left with her mouth open in shock and confusion. But Cahill wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at something over her head. Suddenly a great shadow passed between the ground and the sun, and Cahill cried, “Breanna, watch out!”

All Brea had time for was a quick glance up, into the fiendish yellow eyes of her true nemesis, the enormous mother of all dragons. “Spawn of the damned,” she cursed. She reached for her sword just as the beast swooped and grabbed the back of her cloak in its reeking muzzle.

“No!” Cahill cried.

With a swing of her arm, Brea embedded her sword in the side of the monster’s neck. It pitched its head in an attempt to toss Brea to her death. But she held onto her sword with all her might, her legs kicking instinctively to find purchase. The dragon dived and weaved, but Brea held on. Heading directly for the castle, the enormous beast flew straight at a wall, trying to wipe Brea off on the stone façade. Instead, she simply used the stone as leverage for her flailing feet and pulled herself up to straddle the neck of the fiend.

However, this dragon was so large, she could scarcely sit astride its breadth, and Brea was afraid if she pulled her sword loose she would lose her hold and fall to her death. Suddenly the dragon swooped again and flew only a horse-height above the ground. Brea considered jumping off, but she knew her chances of getting in position to kill the beast again were slim to none. It was only when she looked up and realized that the dragon was flying straight for the yawning opening of the gates of the castle walls that Brea realized what the brute intended to do. Knock her off on the lintel stones as it flew through the opening to freedom.

“Fires of hell!” Brea muttered. With only seconds to act, she knew what she had to do. Somehow she had to flip her body so that she clung beneath the beast, not on top of it.

Just as she was about to pull her leg over the dragon’s neck, Brea felt a vibration along the length beneath her. She looked up and there sat Cahill, looping a length of rope around the dragon’s curved horn and pulling himself into position. He drew his sword, lifted it and plunged. The dragon squawked, but something was wrong. It wobbled and shuddered, but the dragon did not die.

“Cahill! Grab my hand!” Brea shouted. He reached back for her, and their hands locked just as the monster pitched awkwardly to the left. If it wasn’t for Cahill’s grasp, Brea would have fallen. But his grip was firm and Brea knew, without a doubt, he would not let go. Cahill pulled her up the dragon’s neck while she tugged on her embedded sword. With a wet, sucking sound, her sword came free, and Brea found herself wrapped protectively by Cahill’s right arm.

“Now,” she shouted as she raised her sword. “Let me go.”

“No. Give me your sword.”

“Cahill! I can do it!” It was only a split second, but it seemed like an eternity as she watched Cahill at war with himself, wanting to save her yet trusting Brea to save herself. Brea needed only to narrow her eyes at Cahill for him to loosen his grip. Once free, Brea lunged forward, raised her sword above her head and plunged it straight into the eye of the dragon. With a final shudder, the creature expelled its last burst of fire and dropped like a stone to the ground.

Without a second to spare, Brea jumped and rolled to safety amidst the sound of confusion, terror and horrible cries of pain. “Cahill?” she cried as she leapt to her feet, certain the screams were his. “Cahill!”

Cahill appeared from the other side of the downed beast, his clothes torn, his face streaked with dirt and dragon blood. “Here, Brea. I’m here.”

Brea sprinted to his side and threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tight then drew her back from the dragon’s carcass. “Oh no! Look!”

There, sticking out from beneath the gigantic body of the dragon was the bottom of a gown and a pair of fine satin slippers that kicked once, then twice before falling limp. The queen was dead.

“Help!”

Hand in hand, Brea and Cahill rushed toward the cries of distress only to find Peacock, the captain of the guard, also trapped beneath the beast. His legs were surely crushed, but he still lived. He held his hands out to Cahill and Brea, asking to be pulled free. Cahill reached for him, but Brea stopped him.

“No,” she said. “Leave him.” For across the palm of the captain’s hand stretched a nasty gash. A dagger wound. Made by the dagger at Brea’s waist. She pulled Cahill back to safety just as the dragon combusted, flames shooting high into the air, singeing the tips of Brea’s hair. Peacock’s screams died out almost before they began.

Cahill held her in his arms and kissed her face and hair in relief. “I don’t care about my title, Brea. All I care about is you.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have to marry, not if you don’t want. But I do need you, Brea. I need you to stay with me.”

All Brea could do was shake her head. “No,” she said. “No, if I stay we do this right.”

“What are you saying, Princess?”

“I want to marry you, Cahill. I want to belong to you and I want you to belong to me.”

Cahill studied her for a moment, then he lifted her off her feet and twirled her in the air as he hooted with joy.

Grinning and giggling like she hadn’t done in years, Brea added, “I think you’d better call the clergyman immediately. There’s something I really want to try.”

The most glorious smile spread across Cahill’s face as he hugged her so hard she could barely breathe. He kissed her head, her nose, her cheek and finally her mouth. “I have a feeling that the two of us are going to live happily ever after.”