Éibhear shuddered. “I had no idea you wanted to live your life alone.”
Izzy chuckled, propped her elbow on her knee and her chin on her raised fist. “So did I make you feel uncomfortable with my answer to your question?”
“No. Should I feel uncomfortable?”
“I don’t think so. But haven’t I always made you feel uncomfortable?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“You are such a liar. And a bad one.”
“Over the years I’ve become a very good liar.”
“As good as Gwenvael?”
“No one’s as good as Gwenvael. Except maybe Dagmar.”
Izzy sat up straight and lowered her arm. “Well, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making you feel uncomfortable . . . again. It’s just something I do, it seems. Although it only seems to come out with you.”
“You didn’t and have never made me feel uncomfortable.”
“Good.” She turned and uncrossed her legs, hanging them over the table’s edge. “I’m off to bed. We’ll need to get an early start.” She slid off the table. “If we don’t get there before midday, Bram will start pacing. Ghleanna hates when he paces.”
She glanced back at him, smiled. “Night.”
When he didn’t say anything, Izzy walked toward the stairs that would take her to the second floor and the room she used whenever she came to visit with Brannie. She didn’t worry about Macsen. He’d find something to kill, eat, and cover himself with blood; run through a nearby stream to get some of the blood off; and finally return to her a few hours before dawn so that he could snuggle up to the back of her knees and snore until it was time to head out again.
Honestly, that dog was the most reliable thing in her life besides Brannie, her squire, and her horse.
Izzy reached the stairs, but before she had her foot on the first step, Éibhear said from behind her, “I lied.”
“About what?” she asked around a yawn.
“You did make me uncomfortable.”
She snorted a little. “I know.”
“Because I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”
Izzy’s hand landed on the banister, her fingers gripping the worn wood. “Oh?”
“The problem is, I grew tired of feeling uncomfortable a long time ago.”
Slowly, Izzy faced the dragon. He was standing now, watching her from under all that damn blue hair. Gods! That hair! It would be the death of her. And unlike some humans, the dragons never seemed to lose their hair. It might grey, like her grandfather Bercelak’s, but his was still long and thick and shiny and mostly black.
Bastards. Every last one of those damn dragons . . . bastards.
Well . . . was she just going to stand there and stare at him? What was he supposed to make of all that staring? Especially when she kept frowning at him like that. Or maybe it was a glare. Hard to tell really.
“Are you saying you want to kiss me now?” she asked, and he had no idea what to make of that tone.
So Éibhear shrugged. “Figured why not?”
Her head tilted to the side. “Figured why not?”
“Yeah.”
And that’s when a book flew at him, slamming into his forehead. The power of it had him stumbling back against the table and he placed his hand where the book had met flesh and bone. He glanced down at the book and asked, “You threw The Ancient Philosophies of Seòras at me? Do you have any idea how old this book is? And why the hell are you throwing books at me anyway? What did I do?”
“You exist! I think you exist just to torment me.”
“You started this, Iseabail.”
“I started nothing. I asked you a simple question and you went all Éibhear the Terrified on me. As usual.” She stalked toward him. “And that’s when I decided, ‘Fine. I’m done with this.’ And in typical Éibhear fashion, that’s when you decide, ‘Eh. I might as well kiss her. Couldn’t ’urt.”
“First off, that’s not how I sound.” Gods! She made him sound like a bloody halfwit. “And second—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to hear it. That’s all you bloody do. Talk!”
Seething now because he had no idea what he’d done, Éibhear growled out between clenched teeth, “You, of all beings in this universe, have the nerve of accusing me of talking too much?”
“At least I have something to say.”
“No, you don’t! You babble. Constantly! Until my bloody ears bleed!”
That’s when she swung on him. But this time, he was kind of expecting that move, so he caught her arm and flipped her back on the table. She kicked him in the jaw, and gods! The woman’s legs were damn powerful. If he were truly human, his head would have been separated from his neck from that blow.
Éibhear stepped back, black smoke swirling from his nostrils, a low growl rolling past his lips as he gripped his jaw and popped it back into place. By the time he was done, Izzy had placed her hands behind her and flipped her body backward so that she landed on the other side of the table.
“Running?” he couldn’t help but taunt. “The great general of Queen Annwyl’s armies?”
“You should know by now, Éibhear the Ridiculous, I don’t run.”
Then a wooden chair came flying at his head. Éibhear leaned back and the chair careened past him and into the far wall, breaking into pieces on contact.
“You’ll have to explain that bloody chair to Bram,” he told her.
“I’ll tell him it was your fault. He’ll believe me.” She grinned. “They all do.”
Their gazes locked and they watched each other, for how long, Éibhear didn’t know. But then he saw her eyes briefly stray to where they’d placed their weapons while they ate. At the same moment, they were both running, heading for those piles of weapons. Izzy was fast, her long legs getting her to the pile quickly. But he was fast, too, leaping over the table and slamming into her just as she reached out for an axe. His axe!
Éibhear lifted her off her feet and swung her around. He had her arms pinned, but her legs were free and the damn woman kicked like a psychotic mule. She brought her head back, ramming it into his chin, almost dislodging his jaw again.
Fed up, Éibhear spun Izzy around and slammed her into the wall, pinning her there with his body.
Panting, the pair stared at each other until Izzy asked, “Ready to kiss me now?”
The dragon’s silver eyes narrowed on her. “I see how you’ve come so far in the human armies, Iseabail. Because you’re completely insane.”
She laughed, her tongue reaching out and swiping up blood that leaked from her split lip. “I may have heard that accusation before, but I refuse to accept or acknowledge it. Now kiss me . . . or get the battle-fuck off me, Éibhear the Blue.”
His gaze lowered to her mouth and she saw his brain turning while he, as always, agonized over his decision. She imagined he couldn’t be like this in battle or even with other women. She just didn’t know why he insisted on being so obsessively concerned for her.
“Waiting,” she pushed, the one word no more than a snarl.
That’s when he released her, Izzy’s drop to the floor a little unsettling since he hadn’t even lifted her up all the way to eye level.
“And you can keep waiting,” he shot back seconds before he turned away from her and headed toward the stairs.
Smirking, Izzy watched him.
“Éibhear?”
Fed up, Éibhear spun around to face the unhinged female that he was trapped in this bloody castle with for the night.
“What is—” he just managed to get out before a piece of the broken chair rammed into his leg bone. The pain of it shocked him and he automatically dropped to one knee. Then Izzy was there, her strong hand gripping him by his jaw.
“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” she said.
Then she kissed him.
Not a silly, girlish kiss or even an angry, biting kiss. But a demanding, passionate kiss that tore the breath from his lungs and did to him exactly what he’d always feared. Tore any control or rational thought he’d believed himself to possess completely away from him.
Damn her!
She pulled away first, stepping back, a triumphant smile on her face. “There. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Her tone was unbelievably condescending and superior, which only made him want her even more. Why? Because he was pathetic! He didn’t deserve to be a dragon. The mightiest of higher beings!
The pompous brat stepped away from him, tossing aside the piece of chair she’d used to temporarily incapacitate him.
“Night!” She gave him a little wave that made him hate her a bit and that’s when something in Éibhear snapped. Like the last piece of rope he was hanging on to.
Éibhear stood to his full height and reached out, catching hold of Izzy by her chain-mail shirt and swinging her around until she was in front of him.
“Really?” he asked.
As usual with this insane female, Iseabail the Dangerous showed no fear, no concern, nothing but humor at his expense.
“Really?” she shot back, her arms extending from her body. “Really . . . what are you going to do? The great, pious, beloved Éibhear the Blue. What are you going to do?”
Éibhear’s grip on her shirt tightened, the little metal rings that made up the protective garment digging into his fingers. And he realized in that moment that he’d have to show Izzy the Dangerous that the “great, pious, beloved Éibhear the Blue” had been dead and gone for a very long time....
Chapter 18
Izzy would be the first to admit that over the years, it was this sort of thing that often got her into the worst sort of trouble. Well . . . her and Brannie. Poor thing. That dragoness had pulled Izzy out of more scrapes that Izzy’s mouth had gotten them into than either would ever care to admit. But Brannie wasn’t here right now and Izzy wasn’t exactly in a situation she didn’t want to be in.
More fool her.
What exactly was wrong with her anyway? Was she still harboring the desires of her sixteen-year-old self? The same girl who had gone from having only three soldiers protecting her as they lived their lives on the road to having an entire family to call her own, including a mother, father, uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents . . . and Éibhear. Handsome, chivalrous, impatient, terse Éibhear.
Well, with her he’d been impatient and terse. With everyone else, he was the wonderful, sweet, adorable Éibhear. The blue dragon everyone loved. But Izzy would be the first to admit, she’d seamlessly moved from loving him to hating him. He’d driven her absolutely insane for years. Hot one second, cold the next.
Of course, at the moment . . . she seemed to have him decidedly hot.
Using his grip on her shirt, he pulled her closer, his gaze locked on her mouth. To be honest, Izzy expected him to do what he always did to her any time they got too close to anything that even hinted at sex. But Izzy wouldn’t pull away first. She wouldn’t let him off the hook. If he was going to walk away, he could walk away. She wouldn’t help him by—