Her Love, Her Dragon: The Saga Begins (Dragon Guard Series) Read online

  Her Love, Her Dragon

  The Saga Begins

  By

  Julia Mills

  There Are No Coincidences.

  The Universe Does Not Make Mistakes.

  Fate Will Not Be Denied.

  Copyright © 2014 Julia Mills

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  NOTICE: This is an adult erotic paranormal romance with love scenes and mature situations. It is only intended for adult readers over the age of 18.

  Cover Designed by Linda Boulanger with Tell Tale Book Covers http://telltalebookcovers.weebly.com/

  Author’s Note

  This story was written as a celebration of the first birthday of the Dragon Guard. On November 19, 2013 I hit the publish button for the first time and it was the best decision I ever made. I want to THANK EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart!!! It has been an AMAZING RIDE and I look forward to so much more with each and every one of you.

  I want to say this book is set in Arthurian times but is NOT historically accurate. I have taken many literary liberties and put my own special twist on nearly all of it. That being said, I hope you enjoy this look back in time to where the saga began…

  Also by Julia Mills

  ~~~~~~~

  Her Dragon to Slay, Dragon Guard Series #1

  Her Dragon’s Fire, Dragon Guard Series #2

  Haunted by Her Dragon, Dragon Guard Series #3

  For the Love of Her Dragon, Dragon Guard Series #4

  Saved by Her Dragon, Dragon Guard Series #5

  DEDICATION

  To all my BEAUTIFUL READERS! Without YOU none of this would be possible! Thank you for your unending support! YOU ROCK!!

  Thank you, God.

  To my girls, Liz and Em, I Love You. Every day, every way, always.

  To Emma Edwards, the absolute best writing partner in the world. You are BEAUTIFULLY BRILLIANT in every way. Is it Wine Day yet?

  To Charlene Bauer, absolutely the best right hand anyone could ever have. She is my friend, my sounding board and cracks a mean whip. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! I couldn’t do it without you.

  To Linda Boulanger, the Cover Master, thank you going along my hair-brained ideas!! I could NOT ask for any better!

  To JD Nelson, thank you for your encouragement and support because of you the Dragon Guard was born!

  Abigail

  Manus had been in the service of the King for as long as she’d known him. In fact, had he not been a knight, she might never have met him. Not a day went by that Abbie didn’t think of the first glimpse she had gotten of the man that would hold her heart. She had spied him through the crowd, sitting high atop his mount, proudly displaying King Arthur’s colors. He had stolen her breath, right along with her heart, in that one fleeting glimpse.

  Their love grew more every day. She remembered being that naïve young girl sitting in an old wooden wagon…mesmerized. She had never seen anything as regal as Manus O’Brien leading his garrison through the main thoroughfare. When he passed by, just mere paces from her father’s wagon, she had held her breath. Everyone and everything faded from view. Her world narrowed to him and only him. She had even twisted in her seat to catch a last glimpse of his retreating back.

  All these years later, she still giggled at the thought of how slowly her wits had returned. The lingering vision of the warrior on horseback, firmly ingrained in her memory.

  She had quickly righted her position, checking to make sure her father hadn’t seen her inattention to the task he had given her. Not that she thought anyone would dare attempt to steal with all the soldiers and law keepers in attendance, but her father had issued his command and she was meant to follow. Thankfully, he was busy jockeying for position in line with the weaver and had missed her brief dalliance.

  The next few hours were fascinating while she watched all manner of people come and go. She had originally thought there would only be merchants, people selling everything from bread to cookware. Abbie was shocked to find so much more. Minstrels were playing and singing, hoping for donations from the crowd. Miscellaneous beggars, some acting as fortune tellers, praying for just a few coins.

  Halfway through their wait, the sounds of trumpets called the crowd’s attention to the center of the market. A troop of six costumed performers on a makeshift stage entertained the crowd with their portrayal of the King’s victory over the Saxons. Her father joined her in the wagon and together they laughed until it was their turn to sell their fleece.

  The transaction between her father and the weaver captured her attention. Abbie hoped to learn everything about trading, even though, as a woman, she would never be allowed to run in the family business.

  Lost in her fantasy of one day owning the family business, Abbie missed what they later told her was a small explosion at the blacksmith shop. The thundering of hooves also went unnoticed until the baker’s wife screamed in fear from across the market.

  Unfortunately, it was too late.

  Abigail’s memory remained spotty even after the passage of time. The unmistakable sound of splintering wood, would be something she never forgot. The terrified neighing of two stampeding stallions that had broken free still haunted her. The feeling of the world moving in slow motion was something of a daily memory. Heights still frightened her after her brief airborne experience. But it had all been worth it because the one thing she was glad to have was her knight.

  Her descent brought her careening towards the steps leading to the palace courtyard, with no way to halt her downward motion. Right before her body made contact with the brutal concrete, Abbie was snatched from the air and haphazardly thrown across a pair of heavily muscled thighs that pushed into the cushion of her stomach.

  Watching the horses’ hooves kick up dirt and gravel from her precarious position, Abbie relaxed, but then thought of her father, and immediately panicked

  Squirming to sit up, she screamed, “Stop this bloody horse and put me down! I have to find my father!”

  A large, warm hand settled on her back, holding her still as the yet unknown rider commanded, “Hold still, lass. Your jerkin’ round is gonna land both our asses in the mud.”

  She immediately stilled, the low rumbling voice of the rider sending shivers down her spine. He had the accent of her mother’s people, and if her ma was any indication Abbie knew she’d better listen.

  The horse’s steps slowed to a trot as the man spoke again, “Your da is fine. He knows I have you.”

  Forgetting her place and growing tired of the blood running to her head, Abbie mimicked his accent and lowered her voice, “What are you gonna do with me?”

  His laugh was even better than his voice. It was deep and rich and made her want to laugh along…but she resisted. Abigail was pissed and more than a little embarrassed to be riding with her ass in the air across some strange man’s lap.

  The horse came to a halt. Abbie was jerked from her less than modest position, thrown over a well-muscled shoulder and told, “Don’t move, lass,” while the man unceremoniously dismounted.

  She was momentarily stunned by the play of the muscles in his butt beneath his black woolen hose but soon found her voice when the hand holdi
ng her steady rubbed the back of her thighs. “What the bloody..”

  Her words were cut off by a quick swat on her ass followed by a low reprimand, “Hold your tongue. I’m trying to get you down.”

  When her boots touched the grass, she took a quick step back, pushed her hair from her face, and planted her fists on her hips. She was prepared to let the heathen know he had messed with the wrong girl. What she saw stunned her speechless.

  There, standing before her, was the knight from the market. Up close she could see that his hair was dark brown, not black as she had originally thought. Streaks of caramel and auburn wound through the chocolate waves that were long enough to touch the collar of his black leather jerkin.

  His forehead was creased and his brows drawn tight over amber eyes that reminded her of the leaves on the oak tree leaves outside her window in the autumn. He had high cheekbones that showed the signs of countless hours spent in the sun, wind and rain. His beard was well-trimmed, barely more than a five o’clock shadow, but it was his mouth that drew and held her attention.

  Even sporting a frown, his upper lip was full with a pronounced ‘Cupid’s bow’ that inspired the image of her nibbling his tender flesh to manifest in her mind. At the thought, her cheeks heated with a blush she knew he saw by the smirk that lifted the corner of his mouth.

  “What are ya thinkin’ about?” He winked, adding insult to injury where her pride was concerned.

  Taking a step back and turning on her heel, Abigail growled, “I was thinking you have the manners of a stable boy but are dressed like a knight.”

  His bark of laughter only served to fuel her ire. Then he spoke, lighting the fire of her anger. “And exactly what does a little farm girl know of knights and stable boys?”

  “A little farm girl?!” What the...? You…” Unable to complete a thought, so angry she could all but feel the steam coming from her ears, Abigail did the only thing she could.

  She punched Manus right in the stomach.

  Thankfully, her anger pushed the pain radiating up her arm to the back of her mind. Still madder than she could ever remember being, she stood on the very tip of her toes trying to look the behemoth in the eyes but only made it as far as his chin.

  “Just who do you think you’re talking to? I am not some country bumpkin that you can push around. I am the daughter of the wealthiest sheep herder in the North Country.”

  Even though he rubbed the spot where her fist had connected with his hard muscles, the bastard still had the nerve to smirk and that was not acceptable. She was just about let him have it again when the sound of approaching riders stopped her action. The sight of her father atop one of their horses while ‘towing’ the other had her running towards the road, all thoughts of one very sexy smart-mouthed knight forgotten.

  Reaching the edge of the gravel the same time as her father, Abbie began speaking before he could dismount. “Are you okay, papa? Were you hurt? Where is the wagon? Did you sell the wool? What happened?”

  Only because she stopped for a breath was her father able to get a word in. “Heaven help us, Abigail, give an old man a minute. I’ve had a terrible fright.”

  She looked her father up and down, making sure he wasn’t injured then didn’t wait for his feet to touch the ground before launching herself at him. The feel of his arms hugging her tight was just what Abbie needed to let go of the fear and anxiety she had felt since flying through the air. Lord Bryan Donovan was not one to show emotion but she could feel in the way he held her just that one second longer that he had been scared for her welfare.

  It wasn’t but a moment before he was pulling from her embrace and setting her back at arm’s length, checking for himself that she was unharmed. Abbie did all she could to keep her emotions in check but felt one small tear trail down her cheek. Her father was quick to respond, “What’s wrong, girl? Are you hurt?”

  Before she could answer, the world spun and she was once again face to face with the most irritating man in the world and he was bellowing in her face. “What’s the matter? I was sure you were fine. You seemed fine when you punched me in the gut.”

  Jerking her arm from his grasp, Abbie swung her opposite hand in an effort to smack him across the face but Manus was faster. He pulled her back to his front and held her tight while speaking over her head to her father.

  “Is she always such a handful?”

  Her father chuckled and for the first time in her twenty-one years she thought about punching him. “Never had a problem with her before today. My Abbie’s always been a good girl.”

  “I’m sure she’s a very good girl,” Abigail was sure she heard the knight mumble as he released her and took a step backwards.

  She rushed to stand next to her father glaring at the man she had once thought so noble…so regal.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

  Her father’s word surprised her. Turning, Abbie saw real concern and the love she had always felt. “Yes, papa, I’m fine.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Thank God, but you shouldn’t be swinging at the man that saved your life, Abbie girl.”

  Abbie stiffened in his arms but nodded her acceptance at his rebuke, refusing to disrespect her father in front of the knight. “I lost years off my life when you went flying through the air.” Shifting his gaze but not loosening his hold, he addressed the knight, “I thank you, Lord Manus, for saving my sweetling. I am forever in your debt.”

  “There is no debt to be paid, Lord Donovan,” the knight bowed to her father. “It was my honor, nay I say duty, to save one so beautiful.”

  Any other time Abbie would have blushed to her toes. A compliment from one of King Arthur’s knights was something all girls dreamt of. And one as good looking and formidable as Lord Manus would have made any lass swoon. However, the twinkle in his eye and not so subtle wink had her squinting and promising retribution if he embarrassed her in any way. Her father turned, taking Abbie with him and breaking her eye contact with the knight. She felt him watching her every move as she climbed upon her mount preparing to head home.

  “Thank you again, Lord Manus. Should you ever find yourself in the North Country, please stop in for a meal and a drink.”

  “I shall, Lord Donovan.” She stole a glace under her lowered lashes just as he added, “Good day, Lady Donovan, pleasure to meet you.”

  Not wanting to embarrass her father, Abigail took a deep breath, straightened her spine and looked the knight right in the eye, “Thank you, Lord Manus.”

  Abbie and her father headed towards home but not before she was sure she heard the knight laugh and say, “I shall see you soon, Abigail Donovan.”

  The way he said her name with that bloody Scottish brogue made Abbie shiver in her saddle. It took all her might to not look over her shoulder to see if he watched as she rode away. Abigail couldn’t decide if she was glad or scared to death that she had met the good knight, Manus O’Brien.

  They had been on the road less than an hour when Abbie remembered she had no clue if her father had completed his business, or what had happened to their wagon. “Papa, was our wagon destroyed?”

  “No, my dear, only the back axle was broken and the spokes of one wheel destroyed. The blacksmith and his journeyman are making the repairs. I am to return in seven days’ time to retrieve it.”

  “Did you finish your business?”

  “Aye. Fetched a fair price for the wool and a promise to buy any more we bring for all of the next year.”

  Abbie was thrilled at the news. Her father went on to tell her exactly what had happened while she was being ‘rescued’ and assured her how very lucky she was that Lord Magnus had been there to catch her before her crashed to the ground. Only half listening, she tried with all her might to think of anything but amber eyes that looked into her soul and lips that begged to be kissed.

  Thankfully, their home appeared over the rise saving her from any further d
etails. Her mother came running from their manor followed by the servants. The horse had barely come to a full stop before she jumped to the ground and ran to her mother. Her first trip to town had been wonderful, but there was nothing better than home.

  “Was it everything you imagined, sweetheart? What did you see? Who did you meet? Come in the house and tell me everything.” Abbie couldn’t get a word in as her mother fired one question after another, obviously as excited as she.

  As they entered through the kitchen door, Marion Donovan called to the cook, “Please bring Abigail’s favorite cookies and tea.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” came from the kitchen as they hurried past.

  Her mother entered the parlor, arranging herself on the settee and patting the cushion beside her. “Come on, my darling. Sit. Tell me everything.”

  Abbie began speaking before her bottom had touched the fabric. “Oh, mama it was the most amazing thing. There were so many people. Not just merchants or weavers, but all sorts of craftsmen selling their wares. I even saw beggars who said they could tell people’s fortunes and a man that juggled copper pans. I wish you had been there.”

  Her mother beamed. “I am so glad your trip was a success.”

  “It was better than a success! We even saw a play put on by a troop of actors in the Town Square. Papa sat in the wagon with me and watched the whole thing. I can’t wait to go again.”

  “We shall see about that, little one.” He father’s voice called from the door.

  Turning, she saw that he hadn’t even stopped to hang his hat before coming to see them. Crossing the room, she smiled as her father leaned down to place a tender kiss on her mother’s lips. Abigail sighed, despite herself, praying for the day someone would love her like her papa loved her mama. On the heels of that thought came the vision of those damnable amber eyes and the smirk Lord Manus had worn the last time she had seen him.