Page 11 of Knight of the Sword

A corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. “That might not have hurt so much.” He glanced at the computer screen. “You’re looking up dragons?”

She felt her face flush. “It’s pretty stupid. There’s been no sighting of anything unnatural since whatever that was happened.”

“What happened was real. You’re not stupid to want to know more. Go ahead,” he said. “Google it.”

Feeling like a fool, Sophie turned back to the computer and clicked on a link. There was the usual stuff about dragons liking bling, and collecting hordes of shiny treasures, along with lightning and thunder being the dragon’s breath and roar, respectively. Another link talked about their appearance: scales that rotate and overlap, horns, razor-sharp wings and spiked spines with arrowpoint tails. The third link was more educational.

“It says dragons, like birds, have hollow bones, which allows them to fly. They can dislocate their jawbone to take in large chunks of food.” Briefly, she thought of being dinner for the red dragon. “Here’s something interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“It says their scales form when iron from their food mixes with a protein called keratin in their cells.” She looked up at Michael. “Sorry. I get excited about biology.”

“No problem.” Michael moved closer and reached across her, his fingers brushing her hand as he moved the mouse to another site. That very slight touch left a pleasant, tingling sensation that spread up her arm and through her body. Sophie was suddenly aware of his closeness, although he did not touch her. In fact, he settled back in his chair.

“There’s some more biology for you,” he said.

She forced herself to refocus on the screen and not think about the scent of heather and woodlands that surrounded him. What in the world was wrong with her?

“This site says dragons live for centuries! Babies are called wyrmlings and are considered young adolescents at age sixty. I’ll bet the baby-boomer generation would appreciate that!” She peered more closely at the facts. “They aren’t adults until they’re five hundred and only middle-aged at a thousand!”

Michael leaned in again, only inches away from her to read over her shoulder. Her entire body alerted, nerve-endings ready for—what? It was almost as if she were wrapped in a warm cocoon that pulsated with gentle static. Yet he was not touching her, only his warm breath tickled her ear. She needed to focus on something besides Michael. Shakily, she began to read on.

“When the female seeks a mate, she lets out a special call and then begins to glow—” She stopped abruptly, her face heating. This was not the direction she needed to take.

“You’re glowing,” Michael said with a grin.

Before she could decide how to ignore the innuendo, Janie was back at the door, along with a very annoyed-looking Robert.

“I told him you were busy,” Janie said, but she didn’t sound too convincing since she was smiling at him.

He entered the room without preamble, glancing at Michael before staring at Sophie. “I guess he’s the reason you haven’t returned my calls?”

Sophie felt her face flame and wondered if she might just spontaneously combust. Could things get worse?

“I’ve been so worried about you,” Robert said.

Michael stood, shifting his weight so he was balanced on both feet. Sophie recognized it as a defensive move from fencing.

“And you are?” he asked.

Robert regarded him coolly, using his best impassive attorney face. “I am her husband.”

“Ex-husband,” Sophie said.

“You know we’re going to talk about that,” Robert said in the buttery-smooth voice he used to convince witnesses to talk.

Sophie bit her tongue and tried not to glare at the man. She didn’t believe in airing dirty laundry in front of strangers. “I am busy at the moment.”

“Yes. We were involved in a conversation,” Michael said.

Robert appraised him again, this time shifting his weight too, and Sophie suddenly wondered if they were going to resort to squabbling like schoolboys.

“And who are you?”

“Name’s Michael McCain.”

“And what do you do?”