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  Pursued by a Dragon

  Book II of The Dragon Archives

  Linda K. Hopkins

  Published by Linda K. Hopkins at Amazon

  Copyright 2014 Linda K. Hopkins

  Amazon Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  A Note About Pursued by a Dragon

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  By Linda K. Hopkins

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all my fantastic fans whose enjoyment of Bound by a Dragon has encouraged me to keep writing The Dragon Archives.

  A Note About Pursued by a Dragon

  If you have read Bound by a Dragon you already know some of Aaron and Keira’s story. But before there was Aaron and Keira, there was Favian and Cathryn! Although this is the second book in The Dragon Archives, it predates the first book by a dozen years.

  Chapter 1

  Cathryn hurried down the muddy street, clutching her packages close to her chest. It was raining, as it had been all week — a slow steady drizzle that stole all color from the landscape and turned the road into a river of sludge, churned by horses and carriages into six inches of mud. Cathryn’s leather slippers were completely impractical for these conditions, despite the wooden pattens she had laced onto their soles, and they were covered in mud, as was the hem of her gown. She pulled her skirts up higher and carefully adjusted the packages in her arms. It was at that precise moment that a careless passerby, shoving through the unhappy throng, knocked her off balance, sending one of her parcels spilling out of her arms, straight for the mire. She grabbed at the package, but no sooner had she re-established her grasp on it, than the other tumbled from her grip. Wrapped in coarse hessian and string, it had almost reached the mud when a hand, stretching from behind, snatched the package from its sorry fate. Turning around, Cathryn slowly raised her gaze to look into a pair of blue eyes, deep as bottomless pools reflecting the wide expanse of the heavens. The man towered over her, and although most people towered over Cathryn’s five feet, two and a half inches, this man was well past six feet tall, and with a broad chest to match. Adding to the impressiveness of his figure was a head of blazing red hair, hanging loose to his shoulders. He was clean shaven, but looked every bit of what Cathryn supposed a Viking would look like. Not that she had ever seen one of the marauding barbarians, but like anyone else in town, she had heard tales of the violence and sacrilege that had been perpetrated by the invaders up and down the coastline in days gone by. She stared at him, her mouth dropping open, as she took in his features.

  “Are you all right, Mistress?” the man asked her gently, the concern in his expression deepening. Cathryn blushed, suddenly aware of how rude, or stupid, she must appear to this stranger. Snapping her mouth closed, she nodded.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Where is your attendant?” The man glanced around, his gaze searching out a careless servant, but when he found none, he turned questioning eyes back to her.

  Cathryn shrugged. “I am quite unattended.”

  “It is not safe for a lady to walk these streets alone,” he responded, concern creating furrows between thick, heavy eyebrows.

  “Thank you for your concern, Sir, but my safety is my own affair!” She paused for a moment to soften her tone before continuing. “Besides, it is broad daylight, and I am well known to my fellow townsmen. I do not believe they would do me harm.”

  A look of surprise crossed the man’s face at Cathryn’s sharp retort, but it quickly smoothed over, with just a hint of a grin lurking around his eyes.

  “Ah, you may trust the townsmen, but what about strangers who happen within the gates? Do you trust that you are safe with them abroad? Anybody could enter the city during daylight hours — pickpockets, murderers, and ravishers of lovely maidens.”

  Tipping her head, Cathryn looked at him askance, her eyes narrowed as she regarded him for a moment.

  “Into which of these categories do you place yourself, Sir? For I do not recognize your face, which indicates to me that you must be a stranger.” In bold perusal, she swept her gaze over his large form, before returning to his now grinning countenance. “You are too well dressed to be a pickpocket, and too well spoken to be a murderer, so perhaps you are a ravisher of maidens. Should I sound the alarm?”

  The man grinned appreciatively before leaning in a little closer, his voice dropping slightly.

  “None of those things, Mistress. I’m only here to assist a damsel in distress.”

  “Ah, a knight, then.”

  The man pulled back and met her gaze. “If that is what you wish. And my first duty as your personal knight will be to escort you to your destination.”

  “No, no, Sir Knight. You have already performed one service for me, which is as much as a damsel can expect on any given day. So I will relieve you of my package and bid you good day.”

  Tugging the delinquent parcel from his grasp, she tucked it under her arm before glancing once more into his face. It was clear that he was not happy with her decisive dismissal, but was too much the gentleman to insist. Amused, Cathryn stepped past him to resume her journey along the muddy lane. Instead of watching the path, she kept her eyes warily on the crowds around her, but that proved to be her undoing. Stepping onto a smooth slick of mud, her foot slipped out from under her as her rear end fell towards the morass. She gasped as the packages flew from her hands, her scrabbling feet unable to find purchase on the slippery surface, but before she hit the ground strong hands caught her under the arms and unceremoniously returned to her feet. The packages did not survive the fall, and they lay in the oozing mud as people hurriedly stepped around them. She turned slowly, composing her features, and glanced up, unsurprised to see the large stranger towering above her once more. His warm hands were clamped to the top of her arms, but they fell to his sides as she looked at him.

  “How did you reach me so fast?” she asked in surprise. “Or were you following me?”

  “I have fast reflexes,” he replied with a wry smile. “And I had a feeling you would need my help again!” Cathryn blushed, but did not look away.

  “Thank you. But I trust I won’t need your services again.”

  The man grinned as he replied. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. And this time I insist that you allow me to attend you to your destination.”

  Cathryn opened her mouth to protest, before closing it again slowly. Perhaps it would be foolish to refuse his aid, since he had
already assisted her twice, and furthermore, she thought in silent appreciation, he was a very handsome man, and his presence could be an enjoyable diversion.

  “Very well,” she said with a nod.

  “Favian Drake at your service,” he said with a small incline of his head. “And may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

  “Cathryn Forrester,” she replied. Favian bent down to retrieve one of the packages that had become buried in the mud, and he turned it over with a frown.

  “I trust this did not contain anything of value, Mistress,” he said. “I’m afraid whatever was in here is completely ruined!”

  “A package of ribbons. I will try washing them, but they are easily replaced,” she said as they turned to walk down the road, Favian walking close to Cathryn. His enormous height was a deterrent to other passers-by, who gave him a wide berth.

  “You would make a most admirable protector, Sir,” Cathryn said, watching the people with interest.

  “I’m happy to offer my services,” he replied with a grin. Cathryn looked at him in amusement.

  “That sounds like a proposition, Sir Knight. Should I be offended?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Favian replied hastily, his face momentarily aghast. Cathryn laughed at his shocked expression.

  “Then I won’t take offence!” she said, laughing again at his expression of exaggerated relief.

  As they walked along, Cathryn glanced at her protector from under lowered eyes. She had no doubt that the man could hold his own in a fight, even one unevenly matched against him. Through the thin fabric of his tunic she could see that his arms were well muscled and strong. His chest was broad, but his waist was narrow, without the extra padding men often started to sport as they settled into life lived comfortably. She guessed him to be in his early thirties, and wondered whether he was settled with a wife and family. Perhaps he really was a knight, returned from crusades in distant lands, who had never had the time to marry. The man was talking again, and she looked up to meet his gaze. He was smiling as he talked, but there was a firmness around his mouth, and a tightness around his eyes, that suggested he was used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed. Someone who would stand his ground and never back down. A man who would be a loyal friend and an unrelenting enemy.

  “Wouldn’t you agree, Mistress?”

  The questioning tone pulled her from her reflections as she realized that she had not heard a word of what he was saying.

  “Mmm,” she responded vaguely, determined to pay closer attention, when the sound of a yell on the other side of the street drew her notice. Turning to look, her heart sank as she took in the scene. Crawling on the ground, his knees caked in mud, a man was scrambling to collect a pile of kindling that had broken free of its bindings and scattered into the mire, over him stood Geoffrey Beaumont, his hands raised as he berated the man.

  “You stupid fool,” shouted Geoffrey, the sound of his voice drawing the attention of others. “You could have tripped me into the mud.”

  “I’m sorry, Master,” mumbled the laborer. “I didna see you.”

  “Next time, look where you are going, you idiot, and make sure you pay attention to your betters.”

  The public display did not surprise Cathryn. Geoffrey thought little of his peers and still less of his inferiors. She could feel Favian stiffen besides her, watching the scene, and she glanced at him, catching his look of derision. He opened his mouth to make some comment, but before he could say anything, she quickly took the soggy packages from his hands.

  “Thank you for your help, Sir Knight. It is not far from here, so I will relieve you of my company and bid you good day.” Cathryn glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that Geoffrey still had not noticed her.

  For reasons she did not even try to understand, she did not want Favian Drake to learn that Geoffrey Beaumont was her betrothed. It was not, after all, a relationship to be ashamed of. Her betrothal to Geoffrey had been negotiated by her father and was based on a business partnership, and had little to do with personal affection. It was quickly becoming clear, however, that she was not to get her wish. Not only was Favian making no moves to leave her side, but another glance over her shoulder showed her that Geoffrey had finally seen her, and was pushing a path through the crowd towards them. A meeting was inevitable. Sighing, Cathryn turned to face Favian once more.

  “You are about to meet my betrothed,” she said. For a moment Favian looked confused, but it quickly turned to a look of contempt as Geoffrey stepped before them.

  “Cathryn, whatever are you doing on these ghastly streets?” Geoffrey gave her a quick glance before looking at the man at her side. Favian had taken a step closer, a strangely protective gesture that gave Cathryn a twist in her stomach. Before she could respond, Favian inclined his head towards the newcomer.

  “Favian Drake at your service.” Standing so close to him, Cathryn could feel the heat rising from Favian’s skin, but his voice was cold and she shivered involuntarily.

  “Favian Drake? I know that name,” said Geoffrey, his brows furrowed as he tried to place it.

  “And you are …?”

  Geoffrey started in surprise before his eyes narrowed in speculation. “Geoffrey Beaumont, Mistress Cathryn’s betrothed,” he said slowly.

  Favian nodded, meeting his glance for a brief moment before turning in Cathryn’s direction. His eyes lacked the warmth they had held before, while his manner was decidedly aloof. He gave her a shallow bow.

  “Good day, Mistress.” Turning on his heel, he walked away without a backward glance.

  Chapter 2

  Cathryn lifted her skirts as she stepped over the pungent piles of horse dung that decorated the street. Flies rose into the air, and she swatted at them in revulsion before they settled back down on the brown heaps. Up ahead she could see a pair of street cleaners leaning on their shovels and laughing over some joke. Cathryn returned her attention to the minefield ahead of her, remembering the accident she had escaped only a few days before. She smiled, her mind lingering on the memory of Favian Drake. The man was not easily forgotten, and indeed had made his way into her thoughts more often than was probably right for a woman betrothed to another man. It was not his size that kept him in her mind, although that was impressive; nor his looks, as handsome as they were. It was his smile she remembered, the concern he had shown for her in Geoffrey’s presence. The heat that emanated from his skin, the look in his eyes, the touch of his hands. She caught herself in her musings, blushing at where her thoughts had been taking her.

  She pushed all thoughts of Favian Drake away from her mind as her father’s warehouse rose up ahead of her. Stepping without hesitation into the large brick building, she nodded at the men working on the floor before lifting her skirts and climbing the rickety stairs that led to Father’s office. This warehouse had been her childhood playground, and she had first learned to walk and climb within these walls. As she grew older, she had sat with her father as he explained the wool business to her. She learned her letters by reading contracts, and lessons in mathematics had been conducted when she carefully added the numbers in the ledger. By the time she was twelve years old she was learning the intricate subtleties of negotiation, sitting in on meetings with the exporters who sent the wool across the waters to be sold to foreign cloth merchants. And as a teenager, she had accompanied her father as he visited grand estates, austere monasteries and town markets, searching out the best supplies of wool and negotiating contracts. Now, at the age of five and twenty, she knew as much about the wool business as her father. She was well known amongst the workers in the warehouse and had earned the respect of other wool merchants. And although not a member of the wool merchant’s guild, or Company, as it was known, it was understood that she would step into that role when she took over control of the business from Master Forrester.

  Cathryn greeted her father with a nod as she entered the bare office at the top of the stairs, seating herself at a small high table
that stood opposite the large desk where he sat.

  “Good morning Cathryn,” he said. “I have placed a missive recently received from our friends in Bruge on your desk. Please review it and let me know your thoughts. Also, there is a letter from our bankers which needs a response. I will leave that in your hands to reply as you see fit.”

  Cathryn nodded. “Very good, Father,” she said as she pulled up a seat and settled herself down to work.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time Cathryn left the warehouse, leaving her father to continue working. The streets were wet from a recent spring shower but had, Cathryn was pleased to note, been cleared of the waste that littered the streets that morning. The streets were still uncrowded, and shopkeepers greeted her with a smile as she walked past. She glanced across the street, and almost stopped when she saw Favian Drake on the opposite side of the road, engaged in conversation with another man. His companion was also very tall, she noticed, but perhaps not quite as tall as Favian, nor as broad. He had golden brown hair that had been pulled into a queue at the back of his neck, and his hand rested on Favian’s arm in a gesture of familiarity. She glanced away again, picking up her pace, but not before she saw Favian lift his head and slowly turn in her direction.

  “Mistress Cathryn,” she heard. Her heart quickened at the sound of his voice, and she looked up to see Favian Drake crossing the road as he came towards her, his companion having disappeared.