The Dragon Hour      Luke had been dashing around all day, looking after last minute details. He'd spent the last half hour practicing with the Uzi, knowing he wouldn't get another chance. Afterwards, he scrupulously searched for empty cartridges and misshapen bullets, digging out slugs that had hit the target.      Joshua had done a fine job of crafting the bullets and reloading the cartridges. Luke tested the reloads himself, several times. Most had fired perfectly, and when they hadn't he'd discovered he was fast becoming a master at clearing jams.      The arsenal of crude bombs was complete, and soldiers already streamed through Chisholm’s store to pick up their supplies. Luke's work was done, at least for today. Dusk would soon arrive, and he wanted to spend this last night with Caryn.      His last stop was the blacksmith's shop. The helmets were finished and so were the coats of mail, a set for every man who would climb the spire. Satisfied, he started to leave. He had no idea why the flash of silver caught his eye, but he moved over to inspect it anyway.      Joshua coughed. “Sir Luke...”      By this time, Luke had his hands on a small mail coat. “This looks like it was made for a child. I don't remember any of thesoldiers being this small.”      Joshua's face told it all. The coat was for Caryn.      Luke searched everywhere: The apothecary, the great hall, the kitchen. He ducked his head into the lab, waved at Ian. She wasn't there. Nor was she in the great hall overseeing supper preparations.      In order to avoid gossip, he'd made a point of staying away from her rooms, but as a last resort he knocked on her door. She didn't answer. He knocked again and heard scurrying sounds inside.      "Caryn?”      He lifted the latch and pushed, only to discover the door had been bolted from the inside.       "Caryn,” he called again.      “Momentarily.”      “Hurry,” he said through the door. “We have to talk.”      He heard the bolt lift. The door opened an inch and her pert nose emerged. “I'm not fit for company. Wait for a moment so I may escape to my bedchamber.”      Luke counted to ten, opened the door, then moved in front of the fire, where he tapped a foot.      Dammit, he needed an explanation.      No, he didn't. There was only one.      Yes he did. Maybe, he'd interpreted the signals wrong.      But he knew he hadn't, and as the time stretched he thought about breaking into Caryn’s bedroom, then discarded the idea. Nevertheless, he glanced that way, coming across a flash of plaid. She'd dropped her shawl. It now rested on the threshold, beneath the closed door. Eager for any distraction, he walked over and tugged the loose end, thinking to give her the shawl when she returned.      The door swung open.      Caryn stood in front of her wardrobe, holding a dress that blocked the view of all but her legs, which were covered by a pair of trews.      “It's true!” he said, his tone accusatory.      Still holding the dress, she swung around, her expression startled. Quickly, it turned to anger. “How dare you enter my bedchamber without invitation?”      Put on the defensive, Luke started to explain, then caught himself. “You're intending to come with us tomorrow, aren't you?”      He crossed the room, tore the dress from her hands and threw it on the bed. “Are you crazy, Caryn? You can't do this.”      She gasped. Her arms flew to cover her breasts. Not until he'd clamped his hands on her shoulders, did Luke realize she wore no shirt. He felt a visceral throb, an instant erection.      He still held the shawl in his hand, which he'd belatedly saw was a kilt. Hastily, he bundled it around her shoulders.      She pushed his hand away and clutched the fabric to her body. “How did you find me out?” Her eyes widened. “Joshua...”      “It wasn't his fault. He put the coat aside, but I happened to see it.” He blew out his breath, shoved a hand in his hair, then decided to say it straight out. “You can't go with us tomorrow, Caryn. I won't let you.”      “Ye won't let me?” Glaring at him furiously, she gathered the plaid more tightly around her. “Ye think I'm incapable of fighting, don't you? Well, I am capable, Luke Slade, I am. I shoot truer than most of the soldiers you'll take, by half, and I'm a master of both the long and the cross-bow.”      “Ralph had a submachine gun and that didn't save him!” He started to step forward, but her fury made him hesitate. “You have to stay behind. I need to know you're safe.”      She tossed her head derisively. “None are safe as long as Ormeskirk lives. And what am I to do? Sit at the base of the spire, wring my hands, fearing that each fallen man is you? Nay. I will not do it. And ye have no authority to make me.”      “You're right. But Ian does.” Luke spun for the door.      Caryn grabbed his arm. “Don't! I will never forgive the affront! Never as long—” Her expression abruptly changed. Softening, saddening, draining of fury. “... as long as we live. Please... Please, Luke. Do not put yourself in harm’s way without me by your side.”      She relaxed her hold on his arm, moved her hand along the muscles, stroking his biceps. For some odd reason, their quarrel had heightened Luke's desire, and her touch sent an intense shiver through his body.      He turned. Tentatively he cupped her face. The green of her eyes was now smoky, her expression had turned to anticipation. On a anguished sigh, he lowered his head and gently kissed her. Softly, almost reverently, he brushed his lips against her mouth.      For one sweet moment she was all there was, filling his heart, his mind, blocking out everything else. Then the reality of what she was planning came back with a force that nearly staggered him. He broke off their kiss.      “We don't... You can't...” His voice faltered at the lump in his throat. “It's all so uncertain— Randy—” He needed her safe. If he died on the spire, someone had to care for Randy. But more than anything, he needed her to live a long and happy life, even if he didn't. She couldn't go!      Suddenly, he could no longer stand their weeks of restraint. All his love and longing rushed forth. He crushed her to his chest.      She breathed out heavily, as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders. She was his love, he'd known it from the moment he'd first seen her, and his intense hunger for her frightened him beyond belief.      “Don't go...” he whispered against her lips.      Then he was scattering kisses on Caryn’s face, her hair her neck, dizzying her with their power. She felt her body weaken with need for him. Her knees sagged. She clutched at his shoulders, caring not that the plaid was slipping away.      He bent his head, ran his tongue along the rise of her collar-bone, dipped into the cleft between her breasts. She felt his shudder throughout her own limbs, felt his hard male organ thrusting against the tender, yearning spot she'd guarded so well these many years. She ached so badly she should be crying out from the pain of it, but the whimpers she uttered, despite her efforts to hold them back, were from sheer delight.      “Luke,” she murmured on a sigh.      He groaned again, then abruptly let her go. A protest escaped her throat, and she shamelessly groped to pull him back.      Resisting, he took one of her hands, lightly placed a kiss on its palm. She shivered, a knee buckled, and he stiffened his arm to support her. “We can't, sweetheart,” he whispered. “We can't do this.”       She bit her lower lip. “W-Why?” She was incapable of anything more.      “You know why. I have to— dammit, Caryn, we cant be together! I have to leave Lochlorraine.” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I survive the battle with Ormeskirk, that is.      “Besides...” He stroked her cheek with a velvet touch meant to soothe. It had the opposite affect, and she gasped, desire springing anew in her. “You could get pregnant. You’d be disgraced.”      Caryn cocked her head. So that was the reason for his refusal. How like Luke to disregard his own desires in favor of her welfare. Her love for him swelled to proportions that overtook the room. No more could she deny it.      Give him the ring.      The inner voice spoke so loudly, for a moment Caryn thought it came from outside. It hadn't. ‘Twas love that spoke, warring with duty once more, resurrecting her unanswered question. Suddenly angry at God for failing her during the greatest crisis of her life, she stepped forward.      Quickly, she unbuckled Luke's belt. His tunic fell loose. His trews slipped down to hang precariously on his hip bones. She laughed, lightly, devilishly, without regard for propriety. “I am four and thirty years of age. I know the dangers and have suffered the scorn of others many a time. Should ye leave a bairn in my belly, it would be my honor to bring it forth.”      She fell to her knees and began loosening the ties of his boots. Her every touch sent discernible shivers though Luke's muscled legs. Off came his boots, off came his hose, then gently she pulled down his trews.      She gasped slightly as his erection was revealed, then looked up at him, meeting adoration in his eyes. With a small hesitation, she took him in hand, felt him stiffen further, though she would have thought that impossible. A hiss of desire emerged from his throat.      “This was something Gregory was wont to ask for,” she said, dipping her head toward the V of his thighs. “Although I found it unpleasant then, ‘tis something I would gladly do for you.”      “Caryn...” Bending, he cupped her elbows and lifted her to her feet. “I’ll never, ever, ask you to do something you don't like. I want to show you what lovemaking is, not force it on you.” He said it fiercely, harshly, and she knew he meant it. He'd risk his life for her. Indeed, he soon would.      “Then lay with me, Luke. Let me feel your trembling body loose itself within me. If we are to part, no matter the reason, let us have this one night together.”       Luke could withstand it no longer. He swept her up and carried her to the bed. Brushing her dress to the floor, he put her down and untied the bindings on her trews.      She reached out to him, her lips parted, waiting for his kiss. Her legs separated, an invitation to mount and enter. Instead he reclined beside her, pulled her close, and traced the outline of her figure with his hand.      “Ye do not want... Gregory always—”      “Forget Gregory,” he growled. “This is us, this is now.”      She nestled beside him, shivering as his hand moved over the curve of her inner thigh. Then he claimed her lips in a kiss that held nothing back. Their tongues parried in harmony with his fingers as he entered the smooth, heated surface inside her.      Slowly, gently, he took her to heights of passion, let the passion ebb, then took her to greater heights. When her body trembled with unleashed cravings, he sent her over the edge. Only when she whimpered with fulfillment did he enter her.      She gasped out a cry of renewed pleasure, spread her legs and bucked her hips. Soon, too soon, Luke's body burst into a thousand pinpoints of pleasure. She was right, he thought. They had earned this one night. But even this ecstasy couldn't dim the anguish of knowing they couldn't be together.      He stayed above her for quite a while, taking in her fragrance, listening to the uneven flow of her breath. Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes brimming with joyful tears. “Now I know why bards write and sing of carnal love. But even their fine words have not described the glory of it.”      “No,” he said, rolling off her and pulling her into the crook of his arms. “But it’s not always like this.”      “I know.”      Wisely, he didn't ask. Instead, his mind whirled with possibilities. As much as he scorned the destiny Caryn so often invoked, it was as if he'd waited for her all his life. He couldn't leave her, not after this.      No more than Randy could leave Nancy.       What if they could return?      He pulled Caryn closer. “Look, we both know I have to take Randy out, but what if we come back?”      “Aye!” she exclaimed, levering up to rest her head on her hand. Her eyes glimmered with eagerness. “Come back. Please come back.”      The level of her excitement startled Luke. She understood the difficulties as much as he did, but she behaved as if it was a done deal. “I’ll have to work out a method first,” he said, his attitude considerably more measured.      She flopped back down and stared up at the canopy of her bed. “Aye,” she said. “A method.”      Her deflated tone tugged at his sympathy and he stroked her cheek. “I’ll think of one. And then I’ll come back.”      A promise he would keep if he survived the battle with Ormeskirk. And when he did, he'd ask Caryn to be his wife. But first she had a right to know who he'd been. Now was as good an opportunity as any, for he might not get another. If his confession elicited the disdain he feared, well, perhaps that would serve a purpose. If he died on the spire, she would have that much less grief.      He pulled her back down on the bed and wrapped her in his arms. In order to begin, he needed her close to his heart. From The Dragon Hour Copyright 2000 © by Constance K. Flynn. All Rights Reserved.