Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

“Does your dragon pull you to shift like your raven?”
    “Aye. He’s an impatient beast,” Eirik replied.
    Ciara didn’t even pretend not to be interested in the discussion and the stew was bubbling in the pot before she knew it. The delicious aroma from the rabbit stew made her stomach growl embarrassingly.
    Artair smiled at her with understanding. “Time to eat, I think.”
    “Aye,” Eirik agreed with a concerned look for her.
    “I am fine.”
    “You do not eat enough.”
    Oh, for goodness’ sake. Did he really need to share her shortcomings with the Balmoral soldiers? “I’m going to eat now.”
    Gart grabbed shallow wooden bowls that would double for plates and Artair ladled a rich broth filled with vegetables and meat into each. Again, Eirik tasted her stew before she was allowed to eat.
    “Are you going to do this from now on?” she asked him with exasperation.
    “Aye.”
    “It’s ridiculous. I’m a wolf. I would smell if my food or drink was off.”
    “I am a dragon, my senses are stronger.”
    “You are being arrogant again.”
    “I am protecting you.”
    “From friendly soldiers?”
    “From the possibility they let their food spoil.”
    “Well, they didn’t.”
    “Nay.” He nodded to Artair and Gart. “’Tis tasty.”
    “Thank you,” Gart replied.
    Artair shrugged. “He does most of the cooking when we are on watch. I’m better at catching our meal than preparing it.”
    “Our Artair is a fine hunter,” Gart said with some pride. “He’ll make a good husband to a lucky clanswoman.”
    Artair smacked his friend on the back of the head and a bite of stew went flying, but Gart saved the rest of his food with his quick reflexes.
    Their conversation continued over the meal but moved to the Éan settling into the Balmoral clan. Apparently, since none of the secret society of the Faol who wanted to kill all the Éan had been found among the Balmoral, the laird had decreed his people would be told the full truth of their new clan members.
    To Ciara’s surprise, Eirik had agreed. She wondered again if he trusted the Balmoral more than her father, but realized it was not her father the dragon mistrusted. It was the rest of the clan. And since there had been members of the secret Faol society among them, only time would prove his people safe with the Sinclairs.
    “Our laird assigned two of your warriors to share this guard and others the task of a flying watch over the island,” Artair said to Eirik when asked.
    Eirik tensed. “Not all are soldiers.”
    Ciara wanted to soothe him, though she could not understand the urge. He was hardly a child needing comfort, but he was a man who took the well-being of his people very much to heart.
    “Oh, no,” Artair was quick to reply. “Some have been assigned crofter’s huts. Three have gone to work in the castle, in one capacity or another.”
    “That is as the Balmoral said it would be.”
    “Our laird can be trusted,” Gart said on a growl.
    Ciara smiled at him. “Of course he can. Eirik did not mean to imply otherwise.”
    The dragon shifter said nothing. Gart was turning a bit red and Artair wasn’t looking too happy, either.
    She dug her elbow in Eirik’s side. “Did you?”
    He shifted so he almost faced her, his big body blocking her view of the others. “Did I what?”
    “Mean to say that their laird was untrustworthy.”
    “I allowed my people to join his clan.”
    “I know, but perhaps they are not aware how much you had to trust the Balmoral to have done so.”
    “’Twas not their decision.”
    “No, of course not.” She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “The point is—”
    “Not important,” Gart interrupted, sounding much happier.
    She peeked around Eirik, but both the Balmoral guards looked at peace again. Really. Heaven save her from testy warriors.
    She looked up at Eirik and lost her breath. His focus was entirely on her and the message in his eyes was hot enough to singe. “Um…you…I…the soldiers…”
    “What about them, faolán ?”
    “I can’t see them around you.”
    “Mayhap you should not be looking at other men.”
    “I wasn’t looking,” she said in outrage. “That way, I mean.”
    “But you wanted to see them.”
    “Not like that.”
    The tiny twitch in the muscle of his cheek finally gave him away.
    “You are teasing me,” she accused.
    “You smell good when you blush.”
    “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She must have the fragrance of a garden right now,