Chapter One
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Lachlan paced to the window for the tenth time in as many minutes and glanced down. Three stories below, pedestrians jostled along the Royal Mile, the cobblestoned street that led from Edinburgh Castle to Holyrood Palace. In the distance, the rugged peak of Arthur’s Seat scratched the sky, and heavy clouds marched in an endless procession. All in all, the weather fit the solemn occasion — the reading of his godfather’s will.
“Just hurry up and read the bloody thing,” Natasha huffed quietly, glaring at the solicitor.
Lachlan frowned. Natasha might be greedy for part of his godfather’s inheritance, but he wasn’t. He just missed Trevor.
So, why was he so on edge? Damned if he knew. Edinburgh lay spread out before him, bursting with summer flowers — the very picture of peace compared to some of the war-ravaged cities he had been deployed to in the military. Meanwhile, the criminal he was tasked with guarding — Enzo Lombardi, the mastermind of a ruthless dragon clan — was safely imprisoned on a remote island ringed by Scotland’s best guards. And while old Trevor’s death saddened Lachlan deeply, the venerable old dragon had lived a long, full life.
Still, Lachlan’s inner dragon was restless, as if the beast was aware of trouble brewing.
Not trouble, his dragon rumbled in his mind. Something else.
Lachlan made a face. Can’t you be more specific?
I’m trying. His dragon sniffed the air again.
An assistant stepped in, checking the guests in the room against a list. Lachlan watched as she tapped her pen steadily down the page, then flicked her eyes up to look around. She frowned, then continued down the list. At some point, her eyes swung over to him, then moved on. Finally, she skimmed back up and stopped, then shook her head at the solicitor.
Apparently, someone was missing. Someone not high-ranking enough to appear at the top of the list, but not too far below. His brow knotted. Who was missing from the Who’s Who of Scotland’s shapeshifters gathered for the reading of Trevor’s will? Most of the Guardians were present — the group charged with keeping the peace in Scotland’s shifter world. Most of Trevor’s closest friends were there, too. So, who were they waiting for?
Colin McDougal, one of the leading dragons of Scotland, stepped over and placed a hand on Lachlan’s shoulder. “Time to say goodbye to good old Trevor.” He sighed. “He would be proud of you, my boy.”
Lachlan looked out the window, hoping he’d done enough to earn such praise.
“He would be happy to see you settled back in Scotland now, after all that time away.” Colin leaned in and dropped his voice. “He would be happier still to see you take a mate. No shortage of candidates.” The dragon shifter waved his whisky glass toward the women in the room, starting with Natasha. Tall, confident, and pouty, with thick, come-hither lips, an hourglass figure, and silky black hair, Natasha had a knack for turning men’s heads — and breaking their hearts.
Not interested, Lachlan’s dragon muttered. Never have been, never will be.
Next, Colin tilted his head toward a willowy redhead who dabbed a handkerchief at her emerald eyes. Candidate number two was Penelope, a member of Edinburgh’s most illustrious unicorn shifter clan.
“Just think what a match that would be,” Colin whispered.
Lachlan’s stomach turned. He loved Penelope, just not in that way. Having grown up as close family friends, she felt like a cousin. Anything but a strictly platonic relationship between them would be utterly wrong.
“Surely not,” surly old Angus MacGregor butted in. “We must maintain the purity of unicorn bloodlines — and maintain the balance of power between our species.”
No one paid him any heed. Angus was always going on about the balance of power — or preferably, tipping the balance in favor of unicorns.
Colin ignored Angus and chuckled to Lachlan. “I say, act now, while you’re still in your prime. Why wait?”
Lachlan pursed his lips. Ever since he’d returned home from the military, friends and family had been pestering him to take a mate. At times, he’d even considered giving in.
But we don’t love any of them, his dragon had protested every time.
True, but who needed love? His parents had been an arranged match, and they’d done all right. And anyway, his father was right — love was foolish. Unnecessary. Love had a way of making a man reckless and blind.
Love is life, his inner beast retorted as if it were a misty-eyed unicorn and not a proud dragon.
Lachlan balled his hands into fists. Love was merely an emotion, and he had been raised to be a cool, analytical man.
Don’t you remember how good love felt? his dragon tried. True love, I mean. Destiny.
Oh, he remembered. All the excitement, all the bliss — and all the temptation. Enough to have nearly derailed his life. It was a damn good thing he’d gotten out while he could.
Still, his chest squeezed, and his pulse raced at the memories of those brief, heady days. The thrill of a single kiss from the woman he loved. The way his heart thumped just from thinking about her…
The pain of saying goodbye, his dragon whispered. The sacrifice it took to let her go.
A good thing Colin jabbed his shoulder just then. “Mark my words, boy. You don’t want to die knowing you’re the end of your line. Think of Trevor. A man with everything — except a direct heir to the family line.”
Angus didn’t look too sad at the prospect. One dragon fewer among the Guardians meant one more seat for a unicorn.
Meanwhile, Natasha’s eyes sparkled. As Trevor’s great-niece, thrice removed, she was his closest relative and, therefore, the logical person to inherit a vast fortune. Word had it, she’d even quit her corporate job in anticipation of inheriting Trevor’s estate. But Trevor had become fickle in his golden years. Who knew to whom the old man had decided to leave his vast holdings?
Natasha checked her watch and called out, “We’re already ten minutes late. Can’t we get started? Everyone is here.”
“Everyone but Trevor.” Penelope dabbed her tear-stained cheeks.
Fergus MacGregor, one of Scotland’s senior unicorns, sighed. “Everyone but Trevor and the person he appointed to bring his ashes home to Scotland.”
A fresh flood of tears trickled down Penelope’s face.
The solicitor — another unicorn shifter, judging by the isolated circle of hair on his otherwise bald head — shook his head. “We can’t begin before the ashes are safely delivered. Trevor was very particular about wanting to preside over this occasion, at least in spirit.”
“Trevor was particular about everything,” Natasha muttered.
Penelope flashed a bittersweet smile. “That’s one of the things I loved about him.”
Lachlan looked between the two women. As the offspring of Scotland’s oldest shifter clans, he, Natasha, and Penelope had known one another for years. Natasha was the same stormy, selfish dragon she’d been as a child, and Penelope was as sweet and sentimental as ever. Then again, unicorn shifters tended to be that way — anxious, emotional, and high-strung.
“Perhaps a poem, then, while we wait,” Penelope suggested. “I happen to have prepared one for the occasion.”