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Dragon Laird
Ratings:
315 pages4 hours
Summary
Enchanted as a child, Rhiannon grows up hidden, safe from a destiny that could be disastrous to her world. But when an evil sorcerer, seeking to destroy the Power of Two, opens the veiled gate that holds the dragons underground, Rhiannon must emerge. She must find the warrior marked with the dragon's flame, for only he can defeat the evil devouring the land. Laird Dylan is a shadow in his own keep. Branded at birth with a dragon's head mark, he is shackled to a cursed life. Now dragons lay waste to his land. But his duty to stop them is derailed when he meets a woman who is unafraid of his shadowed past—a woman he could love. In the midst of evil, Dylan and Rhiannon find a love more powerful than dragons and sorcerers. But will it be lost to save the world they know?
Publisher: The Wild Rose PressReleased: Dec 6, 2017ISBN: 9781509217816Format: book
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Dragon Laird - Alyna Lochlan
Inc.
The soot smeared marks on her face could not hide the long dark lashes that lay pillowed on smooth cheeks. He wanted to run his finger along the edge of her dainty ear, but resisted the urge. How could so much courage be contained in this one woman? She had stood up against the blade twice, yet did not complain, or beg anything from him.
As his focus fell to her slowly rising chest, he noticed the nearly flat and misshapen swelling where her breasts should have been. He narrowed his brow. Mayhap she was deformed in someway.
The oddity compelled him to touch her. Softly so not to awaken her, he ran his fingers over her chest. To his amusement, he found she had bound herself so no womanly curve could be detected. Again, a smile curled his lips. Here was solid proof of what he had suspected from the first. A woman in disguise.
She certainly intrigued him. The longer he was with her, the more questions formed, and the answers weren’t forthcoming. Through the stench of stale clothes came a sweetness all her own. The scent reminded him of lavender, violets, and the forest.
The heat from the fire scorched his skin, urging him to finish his examination and go back to bed. He would find no more answers tonight, so he pulled the quilt over her, making sure her arms and legs were covered then sat the cap back on her head. He stood to leave her, but held his ground as she started to mumble words in her sleep.
Her brow crinkled into a frown, and she twitched as if troubled by some demon in her slumber.
Praise for DRAGON LAIRD
Romantic Times’ Reviewer’s Choice Award winner
for best fantasy of the year—2006
~*~
This was a wonderfully crafted fantasy romance filled with vividly descriptive scenes, beautiful mystical imagery, and sensually passionate romantic interludes! For a debut novel, this is definitely an author to watch as she takes you on a roller coaster ride of non-stop excitement in this fantasy realm. I for one will be looking forward to further offerings by this author after this spectacular debut!
~M. Rondeau (5 Stars)
~*~
I found this story filled with a wonderful vision of fantasy romance, woven with vivid descriptions of the surrounding location and people that had me right there in the middle of the story amid the action and the romance. From the interludes of passion to the fantasy realm to the chivalry and honor of men, it left me wanting more. The whole time I was wishing that I were right there with Dylan and Rhiannon on their quest for peace. I canna wait to read more!
~Romancing the Book (5 Stars)
~*~
"DRAGON LAIRD RULES SUPREME. Magic spells, dragons, steamy love scenes, a quest and fairies. DRAGON LAIRD shines like a jewel. Filled with fresh plot twists and intriguing characters, it is an enchanted read from beginning to end. This reader eagerly awaits more."
~Yvonne Grapes (5 Stars)
Dragon Laird
by
Alyna Lochlan
Dragon Spawn Chronicles,
Book One
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Dragon Laird
COPYRIGHT 2017 by Alyna Lochlan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 706
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History:
Previously published by Venus Press, 2006, and
by The Wild Rose Press, 2011, as The Dragon Laird
First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2017
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1780-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1781-6
Dragon Spawn Chronicles, Book One
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my daughters
for their love of stories about wizards and dragons,
And to my fans for all their notes, love, and support
~~
And a big thanks to my friends Misty Simon,
Mary Morgan, and April Hollingworth
for taking the time to read through this book
before it went to print.
~~
Lastly, thanks to my editor, Amanda Barnett.
A note to my fans: The Name Change
A note about why I changed the author name for this title and a few others. When I first started writing, I had an agent tell me I had to write each group of books under a different pen name. So my vampire books were under Alyna Lochlan, my dragon books under Deborah Lynne, and my historical books were under still another name. As you can guess, it was hard to keep up with all my pen names and different websites.
Then several other authors started using my pen name Deborah Lynne for their work, and my fans were getting confused as to what books were mine and what books belonged to other authors. LOL. That is why I decided to stick with one name for all my books. This makes it easier for me to be found and have all my books under one website. I want to thank you for understanding, and I hope this will make things easier for you as well.
I have added over six thousand words to the book. I wanted to share more of the characters’ depth and storyline.
Thanks,
Deborah Lynne aka Alyna Lochlan
Prologue
The Enchanted Forest, Britain’s DunLepuron Mountains, northwestern seacoast
Sweet Virgin Mary.
Dearg crossed himself as he cowered in the dark. It had been a mistake to enter these woods.
Quiet, you fool, ’afore a harpy descends upon us,
urged his companion, Ethan, as he glanced around nervously. Laird Dylan requested meat for his table, so let us be about the hunt, then leave this cursed place.
Dearg tilted his head back and stared up at the malevolent shadows of twisted tree limbs. No light penetrated the unholy darkness that deepened with each step. Until, suddenly, a flicker of movement passed his vision.
Grabbing Ethan’s arm, he pulled him to a stop. What be that?
So powerful was his dread, he feared his legs wouldn’t hold. The two waited. Anxious gazes bored into a grotesquely twisted group of trees. Through the dancing leaves, the shadows flickered briefly on a huge mass moving toward them.
There it be again.
I see it,
Ethan confirmed.
I do not like this.
Dearg’s heart stopped in a moment of terror. His blood ran cold.
He could take no more of these woods or their unseen forces! He turned to run or crawl on trembling knees if he must back to the great hall.
Look, Dearg! ’Tis a dark cloud of smoke,
Ethan whispered loudly, his voice shaking.
Dearg’s quick stride faltered as he hesitantly glanced to where Ethan pointed. A great cloud of thick haze rolled toward them with rapid speed. The trunks and branches of forest growth exploded as if the gods had stomped on them. The sound became a loud roar of trees and bushes being consumed. The very ground thundered with its power.
Dearg sucked in a paralyzing gasp. By the sword, ’tis dragon’s breath. If it reaches us, we will be swallowed up, our bodies torn apart.
He turned to flee and found Ethan had abandoned him to run ahead.
Dragon’s breath! We will be burned alive. Run, man!
Ethan yelled over his shoulder.
Dearg tried to make his legs move, but they felt leaden, as if they had grown roots. He screamed and forced his frozen legs to follow as the heat of fear crawled up his spine. His gaze fastened on Ethan, always keeping him in sight, even while he felt the beast’s fiery breath hot across his neck. Branches grabbed at him as he ran, trying to halt his escape. He jumped a rotten log then glanced forward toward his friend only to watch Ethan drop from sight. A shrill, blood-stopping scream echoed round him.
Dearg rushed to the spot Ethan had disappeared. A huge pit yawned forth where the earth had fallen away, leaving only bared roots and rocks. Ethan!
His friend’s cries came from far below filled with pain and terror. He needed to help Ethan, but glancing back at the approaching black-death, Dearg knew he wouldn’t stay. Saving his own bloody neck came first.
He took off, running into the darkness, his trembling legs barely carrying his bulk. He prayed the forest would not devour him as panic fueled his need to survive. Then all was consumed in the thick black smoke, choking all life in its path with its demon heat.
All hope died in its malevolent embrace.
Chapter One
Dylan stood at the edge of the enchanted forest in the glowing pre-dawn. A large cloak and hood concealed his features and true form. To anyone who happened to see him, he would appear tall and wraith like. His long hair blew around his shoulders and out from under the hood. His gaze missed nothing that happened around him. He had learned from an early age that the unwary was met with pain or death, and he had the scars to prove it. His gut clinched, and he gritted his teeth as unpleasant memories flashed across his thought before he mentally vanquished them.
He stooped down to adjust a bone-handle dagger in his deer-hide boots, then tugged on the leather straps laced to his knees. Heavy fog crawled from the tree line at his right to whisper around him. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, notching it before moving to let the dark woods swallow him.
Not since his youth had Dylan Conner MacGregor given thought to any religion, especially the ancient ones like the Druid, with its tales of faeries and dragons. He believed in a bow, blade, and the strength of his arm.
He was a warrior, a laird. Magic and spells were for bard songs and old ones’ tales. He came often to the enchanted forest, for the game that proved plentiful since few entered that domain. Now he hunted something else. Two of his men were missing.
They had been hunting in these woods some four days past. His clan, a superstitious lot, had claimed the men were eaten by dragons. And of course, there was the bloody curse. He snarled. Since the day he was born, he’d been under its darkness. From the day of his birth the gods had been in a foul mood and had slapped him with a dragon’s mark. Now all foul deeds were laid at his door. He hissed. His soul was blackened and his wants shunned, yet he carried the load as any man of honor to see his people safe—even from himself.
He strode with purpose, pushing aside snarled vines, jumping unearthed roots and fallen logs. Fog swirled around the forest floor, filling every low spot and creating a deceptive calm. The slight breeze carried the hint of earth, fallen leaves, and something else. He frowned taking a quick survey about him. Dylan could not place what was disturbing him.
Above the trees, the sky brightened. Though he’d started his search before dawn, the morning sun had now caught up with him. With the greater light, he spotted a partially hidden animal trail off to his right. He crouched down and pushed the bushes to one side, examining the bare ground. Stag tracks marked the trail, but there were also fresh human footprints. So, I am not alone,
he breathed under his breath.
His brow furled. He glanced sharply around the forest for signs of human life. It couldn’t be Dearg or Ethan. The prints were too slender. They were light of step. No heavy-footed warrior bore this tread.
So…who? Puzzled, he followed the trail to a secluded pool where he stepped from the darkness into the light of wonder, and caught his breath.
This place leapt from the very bard’s tale of faeries and magic. If he was a believing man, this quiet oasis would cast aside any doubts. But the whimsical had been beaten from him long ago. Lilies and violets grew along the pool’s edge. Ivy and ferns climbed up the rock face, worn smooth by water pouring from the lip to the pool below. The mesmerizing cadence of water filled the glade with a mild, sensual music.
Streaks of gold ran diagonally through the rock, showering the area in sparkles of light as the sun peeked from between branches to touch the precious metal, a leaf, a flower—only to wink and touch something else. A soft mist hugged every tree root, every fern, and danced upon the water.
The voice of a siren came riding upon the wind, filling his mind. Softly at first, then stronger as she neared. Dylan stepped off the path to stand behind a large tree trunk surrounded with berry bushes, waiting for the bearer of the song to step forward. His gaze grew intense and narrowed as he studied the direction from which she came. Her voice seemed to wrap around his dark warrior’s heart and bring a softness he had never known.
His heart raced with the hunter spirit. Anticipation filled his every breath. He pulled his hood down farther to hide his face and moved into the shadows. He kept his gaze fixed to the path and soon was rewarded when the holder of the sweet voice moved toward the pool.
Dylan drew in a breath. She was a vision. A golden light surrounded her as she danced and twirled on naked toes. A white chemise showed beneath her green kirtle. A flower wreath crowned hair that hung past her hips in fiery curls. Silk ribbons were woven among the flowers and fell to tangle along her back.
He digested her beauty and stared, spellbound. She moved with grace, as if floating on clouds. As she neared, the forest filled with exuberant life. Her voice alone could draw a man’s heart from his chest.
She bent under a bowed branch, seeking something among the patch of flowers. Then she stood, twisting a white lily under her nose. Her voice permeated his mind until he heard nothing else. Her dress swayed with every twirl. She threw her head back, beseeching the sun’s warmth, and held her arms wide, beckoning. She danced to the tune of mist and enchantment until she stood at the mouth of the pool.
Would she let the water kiss her warm flesh? His body hardened with the mental image of his hands caressing her soft pale skin.
Driven by the primal forces of his body, he moved forward, but stopped himself by grabbing a branch overhead. He feared she would disappear if she saw him.
A dozen butterflies took flight in unison as she passed, fluttering around her head, form, and ankles like wee faeries, paying homage to the vision. They danced from one lacy-pedaled flower to the other, careful not to get their dainty feet wet on the drops of moisture at the ends of each leaf. Some landed in the woman’s fiery hair. Evidently drawn to the brilliant color just as he was. Here stood a forest fairy to steal his soul.
When she pulled her dress over her head, his body tightened with anticipation. His breath came faster. Her chemise followed to glide over her shoulders, clinging to the tips of her breasts, before sliding to the ground in a pool around her slender feet. Her flesh was cream with a hint of blush. Sunbeams slid over her naked belly and hips.
She thrust her fingers through her thick hair, lifting it off her neck, then let it fall like autumn leaves along her gently curved back. Dylan felt her every move as if he were the one caressing her.
The naked sprite closed her eyes, and her slender fingers slid down her throat and over a golden chain that caged a smooth white stone lying between her firm breasts. She moaned her enjoyment and rolled her head to one side. Her fingers continued down to a slim waist, that flared into womanly curved hips.
A powerful need welled up inside as he tried to believe what his eyes beheld. He wanted to make her his, here among the sweet violets. Stunned by his strong carnal reaction, his knuckles whitened on the thick branch. He stifled a groan. He wasn’t a callow youth, but a seasoned warrior, and he was no stranger to women. Yet, she affected him as no other. He was so hard for her, it had grown painful, but he would not ruin this experience with his reveal.
The beauty turned and glanced right at him. Her facial bones were delicately carved, her mouth full and ripe. But her gaze tugged at his soul. If he hadn’t believed in magic before, here it was in human form.
Her depthless emerald eyes reflected the forest. They shone with a wide-eyed innocence, but also with intelligence and independence of spirit. Had she seen him? She seemed to look right through him. When she turned back to the pool, he realized his hiding place was still safe.
Leisurely, she removed her flowered wreath and gracefully stepped into the water. The mist around the pool moved to enfold her like a lover’s embrace. She sank into the water and out of his sight, the vapor closing her in its protective shell.
When she didn’t reappear, he stepped out from his dark haven. Dylan drew back his hood. Had she disappeared back into the magic realm from once she came? She was gone, and he had nothing of her. Then the breeze caught one of the ribbons from her discarded wreath of wild violets, buttercups, and sprigs of lavender. He walked over to her clothes and picked up the wreath. A few strands of her fiery hair hung intertwined among the flowers.
Looking from the crown of flowers to the quiet pool, he whispered a vow, Whoever you be, know this, you have stolen my soul and one day I will have you.
With a sigh of regret, he moved back. He had to continue the search for his men before it grew too dark, but he would carry her wreath with him.
****
Rhiannon emerged from the cool water to dress. She had swum out farther then normal enjoying the caress of water over her skin. She loved coming to this secluded pool in the mornings to bathe and had stayed longer than normal. However, something had been different this morning. A feeling of being watched had teased her spine, but upon looking around, she had seen no one. Only a few came to this forest. It held too much mystery and enchantment for the unwary traveler.
She felt safe in these woods, as if she belonged. Bending over, she twisted her hair to remove some of the water, then threw its wet length over her shoulder. She dressed and stretched her hands overhead before bending down for her flower wreath, but it wasn’t there. A quick scan of the area showed it indeed to be missing. The uneasy feeling invaded her again, but she shrugged it off with mild annoyance. Perhaps an animal carried it off, or fairies found it to their liking. She shook her head. She hadn’t the time to worry over the wreath. Today she planned to visit a friend who lived close by amid the crooked trees and fallen leaves. Some called Dela a hag or witch, but Rhiannon considered her a grandmother—something she’d never had. Dela had the gift of sight, whether future, past, or present, and the gift of healing. She belonged to a secret group of healers known as the dragon priestesses. They had the power to give life if warranted.
Rhiannon followed a well-worn path only she could see, for after she moved on, the ferns concealed her passing. A hint of wood smoke teased her senses as she walked around a shrub and stepped over a moss-covered log.
There, hidden among the overgrown ivy, she spotted the small wood cabin. Smoke curled from the rock and clay chimney. An alluring light glowed from the only window. Rhiannon walked up to the aged-wood door and knocked. She heard the clatter of objects being moved and waited for an invitation.
I have been expecting you,
came a woman’s voice from within.
Rhiannon pushed the creaky ancient door open and peeked around its worn edge to find its owner. You are sure ’tis all right, Good Mother?
She knew the elderly woman was not well.
Come in, lass. I am fine. I have something important to tell you.
Rhiannon stepped in and shut the door. A warm fire blazed in a stone hearth off to her right. At the center of the burning heat, suspended by chains from an iron tripod, hung a large black cauldron. A small iron pot hung higher by a swinging iron arm that projected from the hearth’s stone wall.
Sweet rushes lay strewn over the earthen floor. Animal skins of every kind covered the walls—red deer, beaver, boar, and badger. The wooden rafters above held bundles of drying herbs. A table with two benches huddled against the wall, opposite the fire, and a bed and cupboard stood along the back. The cabin felt like home, giving a sense of peace and comfort.
Dela’s long white hair stood out in stark contrast to the shadows near her bed. She hobbled toward Rhiannon until the soft firelight fell across her form.
A knobby-jointed hand held an oak staff that helped to support her bowed back. Dark woolen clothing draped her thin body. Lines like spider webs fanned out from the corners of her mouth and eyes and across her forehead.
Dela had often claimed the eyes were a doorway to the soul. Rhiannon knew this to be true when looking into Dela’s golden eyes, so like autumn leaves. They sparkled with wisdom and magic.
She moved over to help the older woman settle down at the table, before placing a kiss on her time-worn cheek. Has the light revealed something to you?
Rhiannon asked as she sat across from her, biting at her finger while waiting for an answer.
Aye, my child. I was told you’d come today. The light has given me a peek of your future.
My future?
Excitement poured over her, and she put her hands down to clutch at her skirt.
Though in her eighty-third year, Dela’s eyes remained sharp as a youth’s, and her voice was soothing. The old one took Rhiannon’s hands from her lap and clutched them between both of hers. Her intense tawny stare held Rhiannon’s gaze.
Listen well, young one. For the knowledge I give may save your life. You are about to embark on a great adventure, as well as find from whence you came.
She would have interrupted, but Dela tilted her head forward in a warning to wait. Amongst enemies, a warrior who carries the dragon’s mark will be the other half you seek in destroying evil.
Frowning, Rhiannon could restrain her question no longer. Am I to love an enemy?
Dela held up a knobby hand to forestall her. I have taught you not to judge others without weighing their actions. Some enemies may be truer than friends. Do you still have the Moonstone I gave you?
The older woman leaned forward—waiting.
Rhiannon flattened her hand over her chest, feeling for the cool, smooth stone resting there. Aye. ’Tis always here, next to my heart.
’Twill give you protection. ’Twill shine it’s brightest and burn like fire when evil is about.
Unable to contain herself, Rhiannon asked, What will my family think if I side with the enemy?
Rhiannon, you are not of their blood. I have told you this many a time ’afore. ’Twas I who brought you and your brother out of these woods and gave you unto their keeping. Your older sibling has no memories of the forest, or the other time before. But it still lives within you.
I never understood why Robbie remembers nothing.
He is under a spell. The time is not right to break the spell and have his memory restored. There is harm in knowing things out of their season.
A sigh escaped her throat and she nodded. A sense of finality settled over her need to belong. Mayhap she was always meant to be outside looking in. What must I do?
You must mate with this dark warrior and combine your strengths, or death and pain will visit us all.
I can not do this. I have no knowledge of bedding, and afterward, I will be an outcast. They might well stone me.
Dela crossed her fingers and pressed them on the center of Rhiannon’s forehead. Rhiannon closed her eyes as the warmth of the woman’s touch burned into her thoughts bringing comfort. "There, I have imparted knowledge to you when it is needed. The warrior
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