“Everything from digging ditches to preparing rock piles. Anything where human hands worked better than dragon talons. I was glad to be of assistance, especially since they had already helped you leave.” He paused. “That was the most important moment to me, when I learned you were safely home.”
She could not help smiling, because that was her William to the core, always wanting her to be out of harm’s way. “You must have seen more of the Nest than I did, since I passed through it very briefly. Was it different from the one here?”
He launched into a long description of the French Nest - all interesting, but mostly a striking contrast to how little he had said about those weeks apart. Before she could respond, he said, “I must go. My steward is waiting for me.”
“And Mrs. Sanford told you not to tire me by staying too long,” she said tartly.
He grinned. “I will not deny it.” Then he kissed her lightly and left.
She watched him go regretfully, but it was true that she was already growing drowsy. As her eyelids drifted closed, she recalled the last time she had seen him in France, when she had helped him put on the coat he could not manage by himself with his weak arm. He had gone through so much during his imprisonment. And then to be put to hard labor at the Nest!
She was already drifting off to sleep when the oddness of his story struck her. He had marched off into imprisonment with an arm he could barely use, even before he was ill-treated and starved. Then, when he reached the Nest, he was well enough to dig ditches and move stones. How could that be?
And what was he keeping from her?
Chapter 2
Darcyclosedthedoorto his study and leaned back against it, blowing out a long breath through his teeth. Those damned bindings! He might owe the French dragons his life - and Elizabeth's - but why had they insisted on binding him against speaking of so many things?
The worst was being gagged against revealing that his brother Jack was alive. Not telling their family felt like cruelty of the worst sort, and he ached to share the news with Elizabeth. At least the dragons had warned him about that, so it had not been a shock.
But why had they bound him against speaking of Coquelicot’s healing? Apparently he could talk about making the lesser bond with the great ruby dragon, but her particular abilities were off limits. He had not realized it until just now with Elizabeth, the only person here who knew how badly injured his arm had been.
He groaned. What a weak excuse he had given her! It was all he could concoct once he realized the binding was there. His wound had been months old, and suddenly a few more weeks had made it vanish? Ridiculous. And what would Elizabeth think when she was well enough to be intimate with him again? She would hardly be able to miss that there was no scar. Not that she had been able to see much in their all too limited intimate moments in France, but still, would it not occur to her that a bullet should leave a mark?
Surely there must be a way to tell her why he could not answer her questions. And he knew just who to turn to for that.
He found Roderick in the library poring over some ancient tome. “May I trouble you with a question about bindings?”
The Welshman closed the book with care. “Your favorite topic, I know! I will answer if I can, but I may not be able to.”
Darcy took a seat across from him and paused to consider his wording. “That is exactly my problem. Let us suppose you were under a binding against revealing something, but you wanted another person to know you were not simply avoiding their questions. Someone who already knows bindings exist, that is. I tried to hint at it, to change the subject to dragon bindings in general, but I could not even manage that. Is there a way around it?”
A look of understanding filled his eyes. “Unfortunately, the dragons have already taken measures against that, as you apparently discovered. You could, I suppose, fight the binding until you choke and go unconscious, which should be a hint to anyone who understands bindings. Not very pleasant, though.”
It might come to that, though. Today Elizabeth had seemed to accept his explanations, but she was tired and weak. When she recovered, it might be a different story.
And she would not mince her words if she thought he was lying to her.
Which he was, even if involuntarily. “Devil take them!”
Roderick cocked an eyebrow. “The French dragons, the bindings, or both?”
Darcy expressed a long breath. “The bindings. I cannot criticize the dragons who saved me from rotting in a prison cell, if not worse. But still - wait, how could you tell I was undertheirbindings? Could I not say the same things to Elizabeth?”
Shaking his head, the Welshman said, “You could only say this much to me because the Eldest already revealed to me you were under bindings from the French Nest.”
Darcy stared at him. “The Eldest knows? Why did she tellyou?”
The Welshman shrugged. “I believe she was hoping I might gain some insight into what those bindings were. She is unhappy about it. You belong toherterritory, yet are under unknown bindings from another Nest, one that is threatened by a mad dragon. Of course she wants to know more.”
It made sense. In times like this, it was only sensible to be suspicious. Darcy said slowly, “I know of two things that I cannot speak of. I do notthinkeither affects the Dark Peak Nest.”
Roderick looked thoughtful. “Do you mind if I tell the Eldest that?”
“I assumed you would.”
The Welshman laughed. “Just because she would like me to spy on you does not mean that I will.”
