Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series) by J.M Griffin, Kristina Paglio Page A

them.
    “I’ll let you rest then, but I’ll be back to take you to dinner around seven. Be ready,” Cullen ordered.
    I glanced up, gave him an amused look and said, “What are you, my bodyguard?”
    He dipped his head. “Until everything is straightened out, yes, I am.” With that terse remark, he walked out the door without a backward glance.
    I sighed, wished I was in any position other than this one, and smoothed my fingers over Drake’s scales. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”
    “We’ll deal with it together. No fears.”
    Golden eyes glowed with fire, a tiny tendril of smoke wafted from his nostrils. Staring at the gorgeous creature, I stepped back. How would we manage that? I shook my head and walked away.
    I called to Mrs. Douglas that I planned to take a nap, and marched up the stairs, once again noting the complaint of the fifth step. Hopefully by the weekend, after everyone left me on my own, I’d fix that tread once and for all.

Chapter 5
    Rest was the last thing that would happen as I flopped onto the soft mattress and closed my eyes while thoughts rushed to take the place of sleep. Who had killed Gran and why? How had it been done? Why hadn’t the poison shown up in the lab tests? What was Cullen’s real interest here? Would he try to wrest the dragons from me? Would Charles and Elizabeth do the same? What was Smythe’s stake in it all? The man seemed unwavering in his belief that if Gran had been poisoned, the toxicology screen would have noted it. While he hadn’t dismissed the possibility, he hadn’t embraced it either. He’d worked on her behalf for so long, why would he take such an attitude?
    Annoyed to think I had all these questions, no feasible answers, and jet lag to top it off, I remained wide awake. Thoughts of the key, for the locked door at the end of the corridor, popped into my head. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and went in search of it. From the look of the door set, the key would undoubtedly be an old fashioned one. Where would Gran have kept it?
    In her room, I sat at her dressing table, slowly gazed at the dresser, the pictures on the walls and any possible place she could have tucked a skeleton key. With a hefty measure of guilt over poking through things that had belonged to Gran, I took a deep breath, threw caution to the wind and justified my actions that by finding the key, I might find her killer. Satisfied with that justification I realized everything here belonged to me now anyway.
    Tiny dresser drawers were packed with oddments that looked to be ages old. Victorian hair combs, filigree brooches, bits of ribbon and such, filled three of them. I felt underneath each drawer in case the key was secured there. Nothing. I’d gone through four more drawers when I decided to take them out of the dresser completely. Still nothing. Damn. Disappointed, I slid them back in place and rifled through the closet.
    Old and new clothing neatly hung on padded hangers. A few fancy dresses, harking back to days of old, were set at one end of the closet while slacks and shirts filled the rest of it. I smiled as I realized I hadn’t seen this type of hanger in years, but they fit Gran’s personality perfectly. 
    The depth of the closet was more walk-in style than any of the others in the house. I searched the shelves, found old hat boxes filled with memorabilia, rather than hats, and several dust covered photo albums. I tossed the albums onto the floor for later viewing and slowly turned full circle, searching the walls for a small hook that held a key. Again, I was disappointed. I gathered the albums and shut the closet door.
    Bundled in my arms, the thick leather-bound books grew heavy as I made my way downstairs. I stumbled onto the sofa when Mrs. Douglas surprised me by entering the room on silent feet. My pulse raced and my fluster must have shown because she smiled and said she’d be going home. I said goodbye and watched as she left the same way she’d