She sighed and took a step back, her eyes wide. Then, grabbing the front of his tunic in her fists, she pulled him close again.
But this time she burrowed her face against his chest and clung to him. “Why did you send me here?”
“How could you think that?” He drew back enough to see her face. That she believed what she said, he could not doubt, not after searching her eyes.
“No one else knew about me.” She eased her hands from his mantle and smoothed the wrinkled fabric. “And you’d locked me away already.”
“Only because I didn’t know what else to do with you. I’ve never found a woman scaling the castle walls to see Llywelyn before,” he said, his heart pounding harder in remembrance. “I did not send you here.” He held her gaze until he thought she believed him.
A shiver coursed through her; her skin felt icy beneath his hands. He drew his cloak off and wrapped her securely within its warm folds. “They didn’t give me a chance to take this,” she said, her voice faint.
He pulled her into his arms again, just to warm her, he told himself. Never mind that holding her brought him a measure of comfort, as well.
“Who brought you here? And when?”
Lily closed her eyes, as if trying to remember—or to forget. “Two men burst into my cell, before midday, I think. They bound my arms and gagged me, then dragged me here. ’Twas too dark—I could not see. Before I realized what they were about, they untied me and shoved me in here.”
He could feel the effort it took for her to recount the tale so calmly. But her voice stayed even, almost emotionless. He knew she was frightened, but she hid it well. Few men had her courage. He brushed a kiss across her brow and held her close a moment longer.
“We must leave,” he told her. “You’ll be safer away from this place, while we decide what to do.” He released her slowly, reluctant to let go.
Lily grabbed his sleeve. “If you didn’t send me here, who did?”
“I’ll tell you later, once we’re away from here. Come, don’t you want to leave?” He’d rather wait until she’d had a chance to eat and get warm before he told her his suspicions.
Besides, he wanted to learn more before he leveled his accusations against the man she’d come to for help.
Llywelyn.
He drew his knife again, weapon enough in such close quarters, should he need it. She stared at the dirk, then his face, for what seemed forever, thinking he knew not what. But she must have found what she sought, for she nodded once. “Lead the way, Dragon,” she said. She unhooked the lantern from the wall, then tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “I trust you.”
He might well be the only person here she could trust, he thought as he closed the cell door.
He’d do whatever he must to prove himself worthy of it.
Lily clung to the Dragon’s arm, her grip barely short of desperation, as he led her through the labyrinth of passageways. She expected Toad—or some other creature like him—to slither into their path at any moment. Even with enough light to see, ‘twas a frightening place.
The relief she felt at the knowledge that Lord Ian hadn’t sent her into the cryptlike cell was near overwhelming.
But if not the Dragon, then who?
Toad said he knew who had sent her there, and much else, besides. But how could she believe such an obviously deranged person? Nothing he’d told her made any sense.
And he certainly didn’t appear to be someone a prince would confide in.
No, she’d simply have to be patient. The Dragon would tell her what he knew, when the time was right. She knew he’d keep her safe.
She knew he was worthy of her trust.
When the corridor seemed to end, he gently eased her hand from his arm and took the lantern. “In case anyone’s watching,” he said, extinguishing the light and plunging them into complete darkness once more. Before she could ask him what he was about, the Dragon pushed on the edge of the wall and a door pivoted toward them. He stood silently for a moment— listening, she concluded—then handed her the lantern. “Come—no one will see us now,” he whispered. Grasping her by the elbow, he led her through the corridor.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked. Not back to the other cell, surely?
“To my chamber, for now. We’ll decide what else to do in the morning.”
They skulked around the dimly lit boundary of the bailey with far more stealth than on the previous night. But except for the fact that this time she was able to walk, instead of riding slung over the Dragon’s shoulder, it felt much the same.
Lord Ian ap Dafydd seemed most comfortable lurking in the shadows, from what she’d seen of him thus far. She could feel a darkness within him; perhaps ‘twas why he sought the shadows instinctively.
But although she should probably fear that side of him, it intrigued her.
Especially since he’d kissed her.
She sensed he’d held himself in check—his touch had been quite gentle—but she’d felt a wildness simmering on the edge of her awareness.
That might have been nothing more than a reflection of the heat that bubbled through her veins at the mere thought of his lips touching hers. He drew her to him by means of some invisible thread—a look, a touch, all it took to make her want to return to his arms.
No doubt he’d be horrified if he knew. She was naught but a stranger to him, ignorant of men and women, no one of importance.
And he was Llywelyn’s Dragon.
She’d know better the next time her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. The first time, she could pass off as an accident; if she did it again, he’d know her for a fool.
With luck, she’d find out what she needed to know soon, perhaps on the morrow. Then she’d be on her way.
And the Dragon need never know how he’d singed her heart.
Once again Lily waited outside the Dragon’s chamber while he found his key, then turned it in the lock. But this time he kept her behind him when he slipped through the door into the dark room, his dagger in one hand, the other wrapped about the hilt of his sword.
She wondered at his caution, until he shoved her backward as the room filled with light. She fell sideways into the corridor, landing on the floor and bumping her head against the stone wall. Though her head reeled, she sat up and groped for the lantern to use as a weapon. Before she got a good grip on the handle, someone wrenched it from her hand. She glared up at the soldier, then slumped back against the doorway.
The Dragon slashed wildly at two armed men and laid open the face of one with his knife. As the fighter spun away, a voice cried, “Hold, Ian! Would you murder our own people?”
Lily blinked to clear her foggy vision. Lord Ian slowly lowered his sword and stepped closer to her. “Nay, milord,” he said. Without turning to face her, he reached down to help her to her feet. She took his hand and pulled herself up beside him. He gestured to the four guards in the room, meeting the wounded man’s glare with a mirthless smile. “Do you threaten us?”
The speaker came toward them from the shadowy end of the room. Though dressed no differently than the others, he wore authority as if it were a mantle. He could only be Llywelyn, prince of Wales.
She couldn’t interpret the look he sent the Dragon, but she knew it didn’t bode well for him. “I see she didn’t leave after all,” Llywelyn said