Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

that knowledge did little to comfort me. I covered my face with my hands, wishing the vision would end, wishing the noise would stop, needing Baltic to restore order to the world.
    “Why do you weep?” a disembodied voice asked me.
    “All those blue dragons who will die . . . if only I could warn them. If only I could make Kaawa understand me. She could stop it. She could stop it all.”
    “Who is Kaawa?”
    The words were whipped away on the wind almost before I could hear them. I turned toward the voice, the sting of spray making me squint. I was on a ship, strands of hair flying around me, partially obscuring my view as we plowed through the waves. “What?”
    “I asked you whom you spoke of, and why you are weeping.”
    Baltic’s large body blocked some of the wind and spray, allowing me to wipe my wet face with the edge of my damp cloak. “I wasn’t weeping. I was thinking about retching, but thankfully that seems to have passed.”
    His arms surrounded me, pulling me into the safe haven of his chest. “Our babe is giving you grief again?”
    “Not so much anymore. I thought I would have been horribly sick because of this awful sea, but it seems to make the illness better.”
    “Good. I dislike you feeling unwell and blaming the babe. And me, for putting him in your belly.” His voice was a rumble that started deep in his chest. I turned my face into the soft linen of his tunic, smiling into his collarbone.
    “I didn’t really mean what I said, you know. I’m not sorry that you ever came to my father’s castle, or that I didn’t set you on fire while you were sleeping after the first time you bedded me.”
    Laughter was rich in his voice as he kissed the top of my head and pulled me tighter. “Or geld me with a blunt knife?”
    “Especially not the gelding. In fact”—I wiggled against him, the scent and feel of him doing much to stir my passion—“just the opposite. I don’t suppose you have time for a little dalliance?”
    He pulled back to give me a wicked look. “Are you attempting to seduce me, chérie ?”
    “Oh, yes.” I tipped my head back to nip his lower lip. “And to thank you for taking me to England so I may see my parents. My mother will be thrilled to know we are to have a child.”
    His lips thinned for a moment. “Not as thrilled as my father.”
    “Your father is an ass,” I told him, sliding out of his embrace and giving him a come-hither look as I moved toward steps that led down to the cabins.
    “Do you have any idea what would happen if he heard you say that?” Baltic asked, following with a glint of appreciation in his dark eyes. “Heads would roll at the very least.”
    “I prefer something else be rolled,” I said with a hint of a leer as I slipped down the stairs.
    “I have heard that women who are breeding often have unnatural appetites for men. I am pleased that you are experiencing this, although I will remind you that you must not be too inventive with your ways to drive me insane with lust, lest you harm the babe. I insist that you allow me to decide what is safe for you to do, and not try to coerce me into performing intricate acts of lovemaking, as you did last night. Ysolde! Cease that! I just got through telling you that you are not to do that! Or that. For the love of the saints, what are you doing with . . . oh, very well, just this once, but this is the last time, do you hear me? After this, you will do as I say!”
    I giggled at the arrogance in his voice, feeling warm and loved, and pleased with the world despite the many cares that burdened me.
    “You are happy, my love?”
    “Oh, yes,” I said on a breath, snuggling down deeper into the soft warmth of the mattress.
    “As am I. I, too, missed you.”
    Heat started to lick up my back, spreading outward in a slow glow of passion. Warmth nuzzled my neck in a way that left me simultaneously boneless and lit by a fire from within.
    “I have to say, much as I love these visions, the real thing is so much better.”
    “Mmm.” The heat suddenly pulled away from me, leaving me feeling bereft. “Ysolde.”
    “Make love to me,” I pleaded, moving restlessly in the warm cocoon of the bed.
    “Not until you wake up.”
    I opened my eyes to see our bedroom, not the small, dark-paneled cabin of the ship upon which we’d sailed so many hundreds of years ago. “Baltic?”
    “Yes. It is the real me, not the past version, which you seem to be obsessed with watching in moments of lovemaking.