Southern Fried Dragon (14 page)

“Bless ye, lass. My nerves are frazzled, what with cannons blasting all around, a war a’starting, and them all drinking, laughing, and tellin’ tales about Fort Sumter.”

“What did ye hear, Maggie?” Dru asked, perking up at the mention of the fort.

“The commander of Fort Sumter has surrendered.”

The blood rushed from Dru’s head.
Her human heart thudded and the urge to fly drove her toward the alley door. Maggie suddenly blocked her path.

“Child, think of what yer doing.”

“He needs me,” Dru whispered. Her words rang false, even to her ears. If Shaw and his regiment had evacuated the fort, how would she find him? “Where are the soldiers?”

“Rumor has it they left on a local steamer, heading for a rendezvous with one of them northern ships.”

“You believe this?”

“Aye. If taken prisoner, the secessionist troops would be a’marching those men down King’s Street.”

Dru nodded in agreement. Inhaling a calming breath, she reluctantly filled jugs with cider and ale, then went about her duties. The tavern’s atmosphere was quite jovial. The men ate and drank while they tossed about several dire predictions, including how every man in the room hoped that the ship carrying the soldiers northward would sink. 

After the breakfast crowd dwindled, Dru returned to her tiny room to contemplate her next step. She peered out her window at the blue of Charleston Harbor. Eerie quiet had replaced the continuing boom of cannon fire. A salty breeze fought the baser smells of the alley. Could she smell Shaw from this distance?

She sniffed, then laughed. The only way to smell his manly scent was to locate his ship and spy on him from high above.

Dru gathered a few treasures—her best shoes, a small primer she was learning to read, the cherished bottle of shells—and pounded down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Where ye off to, lass?” Maggie said, as she bent and placed a tray of biscuits in to bake. “Yer not aiming to go outside, are ye?”

Dru shifted the bag hanging from her shoulder. “I am leaving.”

“Leaving? With all them shells dropping and war a’brewing?” Maggie’s voice rose, and she glared at Dru.

“The cannons are not aimed at us, Maggie.”

“Aye. ‘Tis why staying right here is best.”

“You said yourself the fort surrendered. I have not heard any cannons for hours. Ye do not understand. I must get to Shaw—”

“Are ye daft?” Maggie crossed the kitchen and poked her head through the door to the dining hall. She turned back and propped her chubby fists on her hips. “He’s halfway to New York by now.”

“I have to go.” Dru hugged Maggie, slipped by her, and headed for the door.

“Wait. Take this.” Maggie reached inside the flour bin, grabbed a tied flour sack, then stuffed it in the bag on Dru’s shoulder. Dru kissed her friend’s cheek in thanks for what she assumed was day old bread for her journey.

Shards of sunlight filtered into the corners as she marched toward the docks. Before she left the empty alley, she shimmered into a mighty dragon. Oddly enough, she no longer considered the wings, tail, and long snout as her real identity.
Shaw’s love had shown her a new future. A better way of life.

Finding him and assuring his safety would keep her heart from breaking. Their forced separation was fact. He would never leave his men. His actions reminded her of the fierce Highland warriors who gave their all fighting for their clans. Shaw’s accomplishments would make his Scottish ancestors proud.

Grasping the bundle in her talons, she took to the sky. Within moments, she flew high above the wispy clouds. A single tear escaped as the city of Charleston grew farther and farther away. She would miss Maggie, of course, but nothing mattered except finding Shaw.

Dru followed the coastline, and headed north.
She squinted through the smoke drifting from her nostrils.

There!

A large vessel steamed northward. Flames threatened to escape from her throat. Before she could accidently light up the sky with her happiness and make her presence known, she tamped down the urge.

Dipping low, she kept out of sight by hovering off the stern. The familiar flag that once flew over Fort Sumter
, now flew from the large steamship’s stern. Dru’s throat constricted at the sight of its threadbare, fire-damaged appearance. She pulled her attention to an officer on the deck below the flag. She recognized the man’s swagger.

Shaw.

He paced the ship’s deck with long, sure strides. Agitation radiated from his stiff shoulders, and he clasped his fist around the hilt of his sword. With other soldiers as well as the ship’s crew milling about, Dru searched for an inconspicuous way to make him aware of her existence.

His head rose.

Though she rode silently behind a small bank of clouds, their eyes locked. Her heart pounded. She should watch for the other men, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his hard-eyed stare.

Then, Shaw tipped his hat and smiled ever so briefly. The weight of the world lifted from her scaly back. She flapped her wings and planned her next move.

* * * * *

Over the next several days, Dru followed his ship until it sailed into what she assumed was the New York Harbor, and made berth. She skillfully landed between two smelly chimneys, close enough to the wharf to watch Shaw as he supervised the offloading of men and supplies. As dusk fell, she watched and waited.

Her waiting earned a reward when he strode down a dark alley, alone. Dru, spying from a rooftop, understood his actions. Keeping her dragon self a secret meant Dru’s continued survival. Neither of them dare take any chances. His actions proved he really cared for her. When her senses ruled out other humans in the vicinity, she shimmered into human form and joined him.

“Dru. You are safe.” He gathered her in his arms, then pressed gentle kisses across her forehead.

Her human form melted into his warm embrace and she immediately felt at home.

Home.

Home was wherever she could touch Shaw Stenhouse. Charleston, New York, or the moors of Scotland—nowhere mattered more than the simple act of touching one another.

“A simple thing, is touching,” she whispered.

Shaw leaned back, brushed a soft kiss upon the tip of her nose, then laughed. “I agree it is a simple pleasure, Dru, but you have touched more than my skin. More than my body. You have burrowed into my heart, stolen my control, and gifted me with the treasure of your undying love.”

“Such pretty words for a simple soldier. I merely was thinking how a dragon’s talons could not enjoy the sensation my human body has enjoyed with you.” She inhaled his manly scent of salt and sea air.

“Not so simple. Major Anderson has awarded me a promotion to captain.”

“In truth? This is a good thing?”

“Yes, my love. I impressed him with my handling of the move from Moultrie to Sumter, and for getting the regiment off that ravaged rock and to safety.” He raised a hand, cupped her chin, and gazed into her eyes through the dim light of the dark alley. “I have you to thank for saving my life that night.”

“This means you plan to s
tay in the military, doesn’t it?” The crack in her voice had her cursing her human form. Tears threatened to fall, and her heart broke. Dru warred with clingy female attributes while urging her dragon heart not to take flight and disappear.

“Yes, Dru, but I will be taking a position alongside the major. He’s being hailed as a hero. Rumor has it he’ll be a general before long. My place is by his side.”

“His?” tears flowed freely, now, and she wiped them from her cheek while stepping away.

“Dru. Stop.” Shaw brushed away new tears, and
she succumbed to his strength. Her bundle dropped to the ground at her feet and the small sack Maggie had given her rolled over Shaw’s boot. “What’s this?”

“Something Maggie gave me when I was leaving. Food, I guess.”

Shaw upended the bag. Out dropped coins, a watch fob, and a ring. Shaw smiled at her, then placed the ring on her finger. Dru melted. She wanted him. “Do ye still want me?”

“Dru, what you
didn’t
let me say is, I wish you to be my wife.”

Staring up at the dark recesses of his face, she read the love in h
is eyes. His head lowered, and he stole all her breath with his kiss. Shuddering, she broke their kiss and shoved him away.

“Do not tease a lonely dragon, sir. If you continue as a soldier, on the brink of war, a wife cannot be in your plans.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and glared.

“I cannot retreat. We are at war. I am a soldier. I promised to defend my country and my president. However,” Shaw lowered his arms, and walked closer until they stood toe to toe. “I will follow Major Anderson. He has assured me a home and a life while I serve. All you have to do is say
“yes.”

She didn’t
notice she was nodding until her gaze locked on the love beaming from his face. Who needed wings when love made one’s heart soar? 

The End

I would like to take this opportunity to thank those
who gave me peace and quiet in order to get this book written! To my mother, Audrey Beegle, who read my first draft and asked              wonderful questions. To Kathy Rothenberger who gave me the honest opinion only a romance reader can give. To my handsome husband who cooked a few of his own dinners and helped me with a few of the historical elements. To the people of Charleston, South Carolina; our visit to the city, and our tour of the Fort Sumter Museum and the fort’s ghostly grounds, gave me the idea for this romantic look at the Civil War. To my great-great-great-great grandfather Brownell Lee who fought in the Civil war, was wounded at Malvern Hill, spent three months in Libby Prison, and lived to return to the fighting. And especially to my husband’s great-great-great-great grandfather Joseph Abner Bean who gave his life during the American Civil War.

The idea for this story rose during a trip to Charleston, South Carolina while celebrating my husband’s birthday. He is a history buff. Together, we have traced our family histories for years. We discovered we have several ancestors who fought, and some died, in the American Civil War, which ran from April 1861 until April 1865.

We love visiting historic
al places, and decided a visit to Fort Sumter was overdue. This was the place where it all began. We walked through the on-shore museum then boarded the ship for the short ride across Charleston Harbor. Seeing the fallen remains of Fort Sumter was eerie. We walked the actual grounds and observed the destroyed walls. We watched how events unfolded when we walked through the Fort’s museum. I photographed the left-behind cannons. The whole place is inspiring.

Back at home in North Carolina, I researched the history and started my story with talk of secession by the southern states. Using actual events, I have my main characters meet a couple of weeks before the federals abandon Fort Moultrie for the more defendable Fort Sumter.

Some events I mention in my story are based on real actions such as the cutting down of Fort Moultrie’s flagpole, and the reason why the Federals do not immediately return fire when the southern batteries begin to bombard Fort Sumter. Walking the battlements amid the rubble made me realize that America’s deadly Civil War began 150 years ago. Knowing I actually visited the location I use in this story makes me tingle. We remember.

The following is an excerpt from

MY HONORABLE HIGHLANDER

Book #1 in the

Highland Games Through Time series

available in

e-book:
http://amzn.to/Knot6H

And Print:
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CHAPTER 1

Northern Scotland, 1598

Bleak apprehension flooded
Kirkwall Gunn, for he feared he led his men to their deaths. Eager to take up his sword, his right fist tightened. He shook off negative thoughts as death was only one possibility. The odds against him and his warriors loomed, but their mission started out as a peaceful one. He grumbled at the prospect of disappointing his clan should he not survive to see it through.

A
s he rode ahead of his men, his mount’s muscles bunched for flight. Kirk held him steady by easing the tension upon its flanks. Leaning over, he whispered a few soothing words in the animal’s ear. The dun-colored beast snorted as another steed’s hooves thundered closer.

“Torturing your mount, cousin?”

“My poor beast senses my worries.” Kirk glanced at Cameron Robeson’s face. Through the falling dusk, his cousin’s amber eyes twinkled with amusement. Cameron’s bushy, golden eyebrows wiggled and the weathered skin around his mouth stretched wide. Streaks of waning sunlight peeked between storm clouds. They lit upon the brawny man’s blonde locks, heralding their clan’s Nordic ancestry.
Cameron rode next to him in silence as if gathering his thoughts, then glanced skyward. The threat of rain bode ill for their mission. Even the heavens crackled with discontent.