What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(82)

Dagmar looked down the hallway and watched as Gwenvael led some big-breasted royal toward his room.

Shaking her head at her own idiocy—Did you really think you had a bolt’s chance in hell with that?—Dagmar turned and headed back to the stairs and the fresh night air.

Chapter 21

Gwenvael didn’t think he’d ever pry Duchess Bantor off his neck. She clung to him like a vine, the wine she’d been guzzling all evening making her much bolder and harder to get rid of than usual. He finally dumped her off at her room into the arms of a giggling servant girl who liked the way he crossed his eyes when her ladyship drunkenly told him to “take me, Gwenvael. Take me now!”

Chuckling, Gwenvael went down the four flights of stairs to the second floor, walked past his own room, and rounded a corner, walking right into Briec.

“Ho there, Briec! What a delightful ass you’re carrying.”

“A delightful drunken ass.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Gwenvael grinned. “The ass speaks.”

“Put me down!” the ass demanded. “I can walk on my own.”

“As you wish.” Briec dropped his package, and Talaith grabbed hold of her mate’s arm to prevent her rear from hitting the floor.

“See?” she said, when she’d finally found her balance. “I’m as dry as the desert sands.”

And to prove it, Briec pulled his arm away. With nothing to hold on to, Talaith went down like a stone statue Gwenvael once stole.

Talaith glared up at Briec. “Bastard.”

“I told you, my beautiful Talaith, that I was the dragon for you,” Gwenvael reminded her. “But no. You had to go with the arrogant one. Whereas I am always loving and charming and simply wonderful to be around. There isn’t an arrogant bone in my beautiful, perfect body.”

Briec’s eye twitched seconds before he jerked toward his brother, but Gwenvael held up his hands. “Not the face! Not the face! I have plans for this evening and my perfection must remain unmarred.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Prove it.”

Looking down at his brother’s mate, “Speaking of which, last I saw you, you were with the cunning”—Gwenvael flashed his teeth at his brother, making Briec laugh—“Lady Dagmar.”

“Last I saw her,” Talaith said while trying to get herself to her feet, “she was heading outside.”

Gwenvael threw up his hands. “I order a woman to be in her room, naked, waiting for me, and she traipses off.”

Shaking his head, Briec reached down and grabbed hold of his mate’s shoulders, lifting her to her feet. “Next time use the chains. That way they can’t get away.”

“Good idea. Perhaps I can borrow your set.”

Now that she was on her feet, Talaith slammed her hands against Gwenvael’s chest. When he didn’t fall back, she frowned and hit him again.

“We do not have a set. Borrow Annwyl and Fearghus’s like everyone else. And another thing, slag, keep your dirty, dirty, whorish hands off Lady Dagmar. She’s nice.”

Gwenvael stared down at his hands. “They’re not whorish.”

“A bit slurry, though,” Briec joked.

“And what makes you think I plan to take advantage of Lady Dagmar?”

“She has a pu**y, doesn’t she?” Talaith sneered.

Gwenvael’s laugh rang out through the hallway. “We should keep her drunk every day!”

Briec sighed. “Once a year is quite enough, thank you. But I will say this one is different from the others you’ve rutted with. She’s well read. Well spoken, too. And her thoughts progress in a nice logical order. She actually kept my interest in our conversation for five … maybe even six minutes before my mind wandered away to something much more interesting.”

“Talaith’s ass?”

“Rude,” Talaith hissed. “Tell him he’s rude!”

Briec shook his finger at Gwenvael. “You’re rude! Don’t speak to her that way!” He pulled Talaith into his body, holding her tight against him before he added a wink and mouthed at Gwenvael, “Definitely her ass.”

Dagmar marched up the hill and awkwardly climbed on top of a boulder. It was a good choice. Gave her a lovely view of the entire valley that separated Garbhán Isle from Dark Plains as a whole.

“So many lakes,” she said out loud. “So much potential defense.” The queen had asked for her help and Dagmar happily accepted, determined to prove her worth, at least to the Southlanders.

About to step down, Dagmar noticed the tall male standing beside the boulder. It wasn’t Gwenvael, but definitely another sneaky dragon. She could tell easily now, which made her wonder how she’d ever missed it before. Of course, Ragnar had been different. He had an entire backstory and even playacted as if he were old and wounded. All very brilliant, and it still pissed her off.

“Good evening to you,” she said.

The male looked up at her and then around as if he expected her to be speaking to someone else.

“Um … good evening?”

“I don’t remember seeing you at the dinner.” She held her hand out for him to grasp it, and, after a pause, he did just that, helping her to settle comfortably on the boulder.