Named of the Dragon by Susanna Kearsley

Author:Susanna Kearsley [Kearsley, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-14T21:49:58+00:00

XIX

Cadwalader's blood lineally descending,

Long hath be told of such a Prince coming,

Wherefore Friends, if that I shall not lie,

This same is the Fulfiller of the Prophecy.

Citizens' Welcome to Henry VII at Worcester, 1486

I nearly shot out of my skin. Only when he'd hauled me I away from the edge, when my heart had returned to my rib cage and everything seemed right side up, did my fear turn to fury. I sputtered and burned like a fuse as I whipped round to yank myself free. "Dammit, what are you doing? You scared me to death."

"Then we're even." He let go my shoulder but didn't step back. He was closer to me now than he had ever been, close enough that I could smell the cleanness of him, the soapy warm scent of his skin and the trace of detergent that clung to the folds of the shirt that he wore underneath his dark jacket of old, beaten leather that smelted of the damp, cold outdoors.

He'd been up on the roof, I thought. Feeling the chill draught that swept down the spiralling stairs just behind us, I realized that Gareth would have to have been there, concealed by the shadows and blocking the wind, when I'd climbed to this level. I would have heard him, otherwise— he couldn't have come up or down the stairs, without me hearing. So he must have been there, standing silent, watching me...

In the confines of the landing, with the stone walls pressing all around, this new awareness of him felt disturbing, and I had to fight back an irrational urge to leap over the edge of the guardrail and into the void.

"You'd have bloody well broken your neck," he came back at me, "falling from here."

I looked up and studied his thundercloud face with the calmness that follows a shock, seeing no reason why he should be angry. "I was not," I said, very sure, "going to fall. I was perfectly balanced."

"Well, the next time you balance so perfectly, see that you're not standing sixty feet up."

James called out, below us. "Lyn?"

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Who's that you're talking to?"

Gareth answered, arrogant. "It's me."

I heard James shuffle backwards, trying to see. "Gareth?"

"Got it in one."

"What the devil are you doing up there?"

"I'm being bloody unappreciated, that's what."

"Sorry?"

Sighing, I raised my voice. "Never mind, James, we'll be down in a minute. I just want to look at the roof."

Gareth lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, brilliant. A fall from up there would be much more impressive."

"I'm not going to fall."

"No, you're not," he agreed, "because I'm coming with you."

From anyone else, I'd have found such concern for my welfare endearing—from Gareth, it rankled. I didn't know why. It might have had something to do with the way that he touched me, his hand holding firm to the back of my coat as I climbed to the top of the parapet. His touch didn't question its right to be there, it was simple possession. And the more I tried to break from it, the stronger it became.

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