Page 28 of Unexpected Magic

“I am very grateful,” she assured him, “but I hope the original owners of the bread, the vegetables and the clothing were not too discomforted.” Presumably the rabbit and the fish were wild caught, and she had a sudden mental picture of the dragon silently swooping on the unlucky creatures.

Delia was country-reared and hungry. She would not waste time feeling sorry for a rabbit and a fish, but she did worry about the country women who were, presumably, missing clothes, vegetables, and a delicious-looking loaf of bread.

However, the dragon stretched his lips and showed his teeth in what was presumably intended as a grin. He reached out a claw to a pebble on the floor. The emerald shimmer that alwayssurrounded him flared in a flash of impossible color, and when it faded, the pebble shone like gold.

It was gold! Delia picked it up, and it was twice as heavy as she expected and easily dented.

“You paid for what you took,” she guessed.

The dragon nodded.

She had a second worry. “Will it change back like the fairy gold of legend?” That wouldn’t be fair, but the dragon shook his head, which eased her conscience.

“I shall have a slice of the bread and then prepare a pot of rabbit stew,” Delia announced. “Would you like some, Lord Dragon?”

The dragon gave his amused gurgle, and shook his head. Whether he was laughing at the idea she could feed him with one rabbit and few vegetables, or whether he was reacting to her name for him, she had no idea.

She was pleased he didn’t want to eat her cooking, for she was by no means certain how it would turn out. She had often seen the cook at Nettleford Manor put together a stew, and the woman used to narrate her recipe as she prepared food, but watching and listening was not the same as doing.

As to the name, she had to call him something, and anything less than ‘lord’ seemed disrespectful.

After another courtly bow, dragon-style, Lord Dragon left the cavern. Delia followed him with the fish, the rabbit, and the fletching knife. She had a dinner to cook, and the first step was to prepare the meat.

She was feeling more hopeful. She might be the dragon’s prisoner, but he had taken care to provide her with food, a bed, and clothing, all of which indicated she wasn’t in imminent danger of becoming his lunch.

As to the babies, they were safe with Polly and the nuns. Sapphire might be cross about losing his maiden, but to betruthful, he was possibly more attached to Sister Anne and Sister Therese than her. Theodosia was convinced that Sister Louise was her mother, and Mary was closest to Polly.

And hadn’t Delia been wishing for adventure? It was clearly another case of “be careful what you ask for.”

Chapter Twelve

Jasper could notremember much about seizing Miss Nettleford and flying away. The threat to Miss Nettleford had released the hidden store of power he had sensed—and feared—for so long, and in the shock of becoming a dragon, he had thought only of destroying her enemies and taking her somewhere safe.

He had not consciously chosen the cavern in the Peak District where he and his father used to stay on hunting trips back when he was a boy, before he manifested a gift. He had simply translocated, needing a safe refuge. His power shredded the barrier as if it didn’t exist, and he found himself hovering over the ledge in front of the cavern’s entrance, Miss Nettleford dangling from his teeth by her gown. He was glad it had been made of well woven fabric and strong stitches.

Once she was safely deposited on the slope around the curve of the path, he had collected bracken to make a bed, and then checked to see she was still unconscious. She was, which was a worry, but in this form, he could do nothing about it, and he couldn’t figure out how to change back.

It occurred to him that he should take her back to the castle, but his dragonish side refused to consider it, and his human side wasn’t in favor, either. Until he could take human form again, and learn to control the power that fizzed through every vein and sparked in every cell, he could not ensure her safety.

He dimly remembered killing the Welsh mage during Delia’s rescue, if it had been the Welsh mage who was holding Delia.That man was no longer a danger, but what of Uncle Percy? What of the other traitors who must exist? His uncle had written that the Foreign Office’s spies had discovered the French had known of the existence of the catalyst, her name and origins, even before she arrived at Dronsford Castle, and that meant someone must have told them.

Besides, Jasper’s precognition was no longer merely vague feelings of danger. With the deep well of power suddenly fully open, he was besieged with visions of multiple futures, and in every single one except that in which she stayed at his side, Miss Nettleford died, sometimes horribly.

No, even now he was in his full senses, he was determined she must stay with him. “Mine,” said his dragonish side. It must be true, too, for all the dragon lords of legend and history had a catalyst at their side. Miss Nettleford was undeniably a catalyst and he was a dragon, even if one with little control and therefore no right to call himself a lord.

Once he had full control of his power, she would still be his match. Look how well she was coping with being abducted by a dragon! She had calmly set up her kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, and she’d had no hesitation in addressing him like a sensible being, with whom one could discuss things.

She was sitting in a dragon’s cavern making rabbit stew, for all the world as if she had not been nearly kidnapped by an enemy mage who was then killed in front of her eyes while she was plucked up into the air by a dragon!

He sent up a silent prayer for the grace to be worthy of her.

There was a movement in the forest above which he was currently soaring. His dragon eyes, a hundred times sharper at this distance than his human eyes, detected a young buck, stepping carelessly through the undergrowth, oblivious to the danger above.

He spared a brief thought for rabbit stew, cooked slowly over the fire with vegetables and herbs. There was no pot in the cave big enough to cook a meal for his current size, and besides, his current appetite ran to raw meat and plenty of it. The buck would do nicely.

It was currently hesitating on the edge of a clearing, looking in every direction but up for danger. It must have been satisfied, for it stepped out from under the sheltering trees. It would never know what had hit it. Jasper plunged downward, claws stretched and ready.

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