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“The woman I choose is not in for an easy life. I’m the adopted son of King Mylan.”

And there it was. He was royal. She blew out her breath. So, it was her station in life he had an issue with. She felt her ire rise, burning through the hurt. “I see,” she said, embracing the anger and stepping forward, breaking his hold on her. “So I’m not good enough for you.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

Was that shock in his voice? Oh, he was good. He would woo her, ravage her, and then leave her. Her anger peaked. “I think I understand now,” she snapped as she turned on him.

Patrick backed up under her fury.

“I am not a toy. I have a heart and feelings, and I will not let you play with me!”

He took another step back. “What?”

“Good night, Lord Mylan.” With that, Kathryn turned and stormed out of his room. She would have preferred to leave the castle entirely, but going back out past all those people was out of the question. She had already embarrassed herself enough.

Slamming her door, she locked it before dropping herself onto her bed to cry. First impressions are always right, she chided herself. She should never have softened her heart to him. He was nothing but a self-serving, pompous ass.

* * *

Patrick stared at Kathryn’s door, trying to figure out what had just happened. He had brought her back to lay out his life for her, and she had stormed away before he had even gotten started. What had he said to upset her? He ran both his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. Maybe if he got more blood up there, his brain would work better.

“What did you do?” Daniel asked as he looked from Patrick’s befuddled face to Kathryn’s closed door.

“I have no idea,” he admitted, looking to his friend as if he might explain the inner workings of women to him. “I was going to tell her, but she stormed off before I could.”

Pausing, Daniel considered him. “You love her that much?”

“She plagues my every waking thought and haunts my dreams.” Patrick leaned against his doorjamb, staring at Kathryn’s closed door.

Daniel grinned at him. “And here I thought you were avoiding her.”

“I was,” Patrick snapped, “but you kept sending her to tempt me!” Turning back into his room, he kicked the tray of supplies Kathryn had dropped.

Chuckling, Daniel came in and shut the door. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were brooding.”

“I haven’t had a brooding in over ten years,” Patrick snapped again. He dropped himself into a chair and glared at Daniel.

“Oh yes, definitely brooding.”

Patrick glared harder at him.

“You’re moody, impulsive, and unpredictable. Love can do that to you.”

“How can I be in love?” Patrick growled. “I’ve only known her for a few days.”

“Instinct, my good man.” Daniel snickered. “Your dragon knows what it wants and will give you trouble until you let your heart follow.”

Patrick let out a deep sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. There was no way logic would win out against instinct. That had been tried, and it led to some crazed dragons. “So what do I do about her?” He was more than willing to give in, but it was convincing the girl that was turning into an issue.

“That, my friend, is the biggest mystery of all.” Daniel grinned. “Figure out the mind of a woman, and you could be the wealthiest man in the world.”

“What do I do about her?” This time Patrick’s voice held a note of pleading.

Daniel sighed and brushed his fingers through his hair. “Let her calm down for the night,” he offered. “Try again tomorrow.”

“What if she won’t talk to me?”

“Then I’ll talk to her. Just let it be for now. Tend your wound and try to get some rest.” Patrick opened his mouth to protest, but Daniel cut him off with a raised hand. “If you can’t sleep, go take a flight. It will ease you mind and help you work things out.”

Patrick nodded. That was a great idea. Being in scales would clear his rational mind so he could sort through the conflicting emotions. Then tomorrow, with his head on straight, he would face Kathryn and clear up whatever misunderstanding they were having.

7

Shaking his head, Patrick watched the dragon fly away again. The creature had returned with a larger bag of gold, demanding maidens, and he had turned it away again. What else could he do?

The scouts had ridden out to the edge of the forest at sunrise so they would be ready in dragon form to follow the creature when it returned. They had to find the lair soon. The dragon was getting more desperate, and Patrick could not think of anything that would make him want maidens.

The day was not turning out well. Kathryn was avoiding him. He’d seen her across the hall at breakfast but had been stopped with a question before he could reach her. When he was done, she was gone. He had tried to ask where she went, but the other maidens were giving him the cold shoulder as well.

The morning had been a disaster. At breakfast, his porridge was cold, his cheese was moldy, and his bread was soggy. There was even horsehair in his drink! Giving up, he had gone back to his room to find someone had doused his fire and stolen the wood from his hearth. Grumbling, he’d dropped himself down across his bed to regroup but found that, too, had been watered. Thank goodness he hadn’t used the chamber pot in the night. They might have used that instead.

After getting back up, he changed his shirt and went to find something he could do in the bailey. Most of the rubble had been cleared, but the men were working on rebuilding the stables and storerooms. Surely they could use a hand.

No such luck. Two groups turned him away, claiming he couldn’t work with his burned arm, and a third group snapped and growled at him enough that he just left. Everyone seemed to be mad at him for what he’d said to Kathryn, but no one would tell him why she was upset!

The only useful thing he had done was turn the dragon away, but even that had gotten him scornful looks. Apparently, the maidens had taken offense when he’d claimed them as his. Great!

No one in the castle would let him help. He couldn’t forge his shield anew without turning dragon. He couldn’t find Kathryn to clear up their misunderstanding. Even his horse had attempted to take a chunk out of him when he’d tried to clean a rock from its shoe. Everything was starting to make him grouchy and bitter. Seeing the downhill slide, Patrick grabbed some field rations and two flagons of mead and went to find a place where no one would look.

* * *

“There you are.”

Patrick cracked a very drunken eye at the voice. He knew to whom it belonged, but the name wouldn’t come to him at the moment. Scowling, he raised the second skin of mead to his lips. The first lay empty next to his untouched food.

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” the man asked as he sat down next to Patrick.

Rolling his head over, Patrick considered the man, but answering the question took too much brainpower, so he just shrugged.

“A long time.” The man took the skin from Patrick’s hand and took a long pull of the mead.

“Hey!” Patrick protested. His brow furrowed as he made his brain work. “Gif tat bak… Danel,” he slurred.

Laughing, Daniel took another pull of the mead. “You, my friend, are well and truly soused.” He capped the flagon and set it out of Patrick’s reach. “How long have you been up here?”

Patrick shrugged. It’s not like anyone cared that he had squirreled himself away. The castle had probably run better without him anyway.