The Royal Hunter

by Donna Kauffman

  “I’m not worried what trouble he’ll make, I’m worried about the trouble that might find him, you idiot.” Archer’s eyebrows lifted at that one, but she continued on. “I don’t know how they handle pet ownership in Australia, or in Britain, or … or wherever you’re from, but here we are required to keep a handle on our pets. So they don’t end up needing my services. Or worse. There are natural predators out there, ones he might not be familiar with.”

  “Trust me, Ringer can fend for himself quite well.” He folded his arms, no longer seeming off balance. “Where I come from,” he said, almost mockingly, “predators are a part of daily living. If he can make it there, I’m certain he can handle anything here. Ringer has a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “When was the last time you saw him? How is he being fed? Are you sure he’s okay?”

  Laughing, Archer stepped forward and lightly grasped her hands. He tugged her closer to him. It seemed an entirely natural gesture, as did the way she sort of fell against him, their body parts all aligning so perfectly. It actually took her breath away.

  “I think I just figured out why you don’t have animals in the house.”

  There was nowhere to look but up into his dancing black eyes. Her breath caught in her chest. “I have a cat. Marble,” she managed.

  “That’s not a real pet.”

  “You want to tell him that? All twenty-eight pounds of him?”

  “The way I hear it, he was Beatrice’s beast and, from the looks of him, quite able to take care of himself. I imagine he’d do just fine without you.” He moved even closer, tipping her head farther back. “But he chooses to stay with you.” He leaned down. “Wise choice, I’d say.”

  Her breath caught the instant before his mouth covered hers. She’d known his intent, had seen it clearly in his dark eyes. But she hadn’t shoved him away, she hadn’t done any of the smart things some part of her mind should have screamed at her to do.

  She swiftly realized that she didn’t need to worry about connecting to his feelings again. She was too busy wallowing in her own. The incredible warmth of his lips on hers, how firm they were, how well they matched hers, how they seemed to know her, as if he’d kissed her a thousand times before. It was glorious, intoxicating, wondrous. And extremely dangerous.

  That last part was what made her pull away. Still, she wanted to reach up and touch her mouth. It felt like something foreign, strangely alive when she hadn’t even known it had been lying dormant all this time.

  “They take it from you, don’t they, Tali?” he asked quietly, his gaze steady on hers. She felt as if he were the one looking into her soul. When she looked away, he drew the tip of his finger along the side of her cheek, then along the lips he’d just thoroughly imprinted with his own. “You can’t have them under your own roof all the time because you feel too much of them, and it drains you. They tug at your strength, your heart, all the time.” He tipped up her chin and she chided herself for the glassy surface she knew he’d find in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I only wanted to understand you. I think maybe I do. A little bit more at any rate.”

  Her senses reeled. “Archer, I—”

  “Time to finish my rounds.”

  “But—”

  He dropped his mouth to hers for one last hard kiss. “I want you to head in.” He left her, moving back to the fence, which he leaped over as effortlessly as he’d done earlier.

  She wanted to be angry that he’d come to understand her so clearly. Especially the part of her she’d kept locked away the farthest. She did good work here, satisfying and important. Yet there was a part of her that had always felt some lingering guilt. That she hadn’t been strong enough to put her abilities to use more directly.

  Archer was the first one to make her feel like it was okay. The first one to truly understand why she’d chosen the path she had. And accept it.

  She stared at his retreating back as she ran her fingers over her lips. He said he’d only intruded because he’d been curious about her. Well, damn it, she was curious about him now, too. There had been secrets in his eyes, secrets she wanted to uncover, just as he had hers.

  Chapter 8

  Archer resisted the urge to slam his fist through the wall. Just barely. “What do you mean you don’t know where the hell she is? She’s supposed to be in here with you.”

  Baleweg didn’t so much as flinch. As always, he was maddeningly serene. “She chose to skip our lesson this afternoon, and considering how badly distracted she was this morning, I thought it best to allow her time to herself.” Baleweg studied Archer closely. “You wouldn’t, perhaps, know the cause of her distraction?”

  Archer opened his mouth to tell him he had no idea what was going through Talia’s mind since she hadn’t seen fit to speak to him since he’d kissed her last night. But he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Baleweg. That is, if the old codger didn’t already know it. He wondered if Talia had told him … or if he’d figured it out for himself. Either way, he wasn’t about to go there at the moment.

  “Didn’t you think it best to inform me? You’re the one who insisted I stay for protection.” He shoved a kitchen chair so it clattered against the table. “I can hardly be expected to do that when the people I’m supposed to protect go wandering off without warning, now can I?” He was angry at Baleweg, but most of his anger was self-directed. He shouldn’t have gone off looking for Ringer. But he’d thought Talia was safe with Baleweg in the tower.

  And no matter what she said, he wasn’t cavalier about maintaining his pet ownership. He’d never really thought about it that way anyway. He and Ringer were simply mates who happened to be stuck with each other for a time. He was truly happy Ringer was having such a grand time here. He had his freedom and could change at will if threatened. He certainly never felt any little twinges when he wondered if the beastie might be better off here than back in his own time.

  All of this did little to explain his alarm this morning when he’d had no luck finding the little bugger in his usual haunts about the pond and in the marshes. It did even less to explain his total lack of professionalism in leaving his post to pursue the matter. That he still hadn’t located Ringer didn’t help, either.

  He drew in a deep breath. “Did she say where she went off to?” Her truck was out front, so she couldn’t have gone far. But he still didn’t like having her out of his sight.

  “I believe she went to the kennels to see after some business, then catch up with paperwork. There are other workers out there and someone would have signaled if anything was amiss.”

  “I’ve just come from the kennels. She’s not there, or in her office.”

  Baleweg’s bushy white brows furrowed, but there was no real concern in his eyes. “Perhaps she took a stroll around the pond. It’s a pleasant enough day for it. And I daresay she could use the space.”

  Archer’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Space? We’re here to help her find her healing powers, or you are, and I’m here supposedly to keep her safe while you do it, which means containing her within boundaries I can monitor. And you daresay she could use some space?”

  Baleweg’s fleeting concern vanished, replaced by an annoyingly contemplative expression. “You have crowded her a bit of late.”

  Archer ground his back teeth. “We’ve been here too long already. With Dideon’s return, Chamberlain now knows we’re here. He has to be planning something else to thwart us. Every second that ticks away puts the queen in greater jeopardy, therefore upping the odds against Talia. I’m merely doing the job you insist I do.”

  Baleweg nodded, then looked away for a moment, but it was a telling one.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Archer demanded. “I know about Emrys, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

  “Talia told you.”

  “I’d have rather had it from you. He’s the one aiding Chamblerlain, right? Any other surprises I might need to know about?”


  Baleweg shook his head, but didn’t look remotely abashed.

  “Let me go back and deal with him.”

  Baleweg merely shook his head. “You will not be dealing with the likes of him. Leave that to me.” He lifted his hand to stall Archer’s rebuttal. “I will not discuss him with you other than to say that I can feel the continuum quite clearly here and there has been no disturbance in it of late.”

  “I say we both go back. You can deal with this Emrys directly and I will deliver Talia safely to the queen. Then we’ll wash our hands of it.” Even as he said it, he realized he couldn’t imagine walking away from her now. Everything was far more complicated than when he’d stepped through that damned triangle on Baleweg’s roof. He hated complications.

  “Talia isn’t ready to return. And for now it is best that you deal with any threat Emrys might provoke from here.”

  “Then you should be holed up in the tower with her right now, preparing her, not giving her the day off to wander to God knows where!”

  Baleweg smiled pleasantly now. “Then perhaps rather than standing here haranguing me, you should set out about the pond and look for her, hmm?”

  Archer’s fingers curled inward, and he ruthlessly bit off several epithets as he walked to the door. He paused there long enough to point a finger toward Baleweg. “If anything has happened to her, it will be on your head, old man.”

  He was out the door when he heard the satisfied tone in Baleweg’s voice as he said, “How very interesting.”

  Archer crossed the drive and took off down the path, trying hard to block out the old man’s parting shot. He was doing his job. Nothing more, nothing less. A queen’s ransom was riding on this and he’d be damned if some black-hearted Parliamentarian’s mystic lackey was going to screw him out of it. Baleweg was being awfully closed-mouthed about this Emrys, but Archer knew the old man well enough to know that badgering him would yield nothing until he was ready to talk. He flexed his fingers. Fine. Let Emrys send another mark through time, he thought. He’d handle them all, do whatever he had to in order to buy Talia enough time to be fully prepared for what lay in store for her with the queen.

  He was jogging by the time he got to the shed. The odd hat she’d been wearing that first day he’d met her out here was gone, as was the walking stick. Of course he was worried about her, he thought as he picked up speed, but he was being paid to worry. If he’d been a bit tighter in his surveillance, it had nothing whatsoever to do with that fact that he’d tasted her now. Or that he’d dreamed of tasting her again.

  Of course, it had been a while since he’d dallied. That was likely the reason for his preoccupation. After all, she was the only woman above twenty-one and below seventy in these parts; naturally a man’s mind would turn to that if he spent enough time in her presence. He continued around the curve of the pond, ducking and swatting at the scrub brush that was beginning to stretch its late-spring growth across the path. His thoughts continued just as doggedly.

  It wasn’t as if she did anything to draw a eye man’s. Her clothes could, at best, be described as baggy and serviceable. He knew firsthand there were feminine curves beneath it, yet you’d never know to look at her. Her dark hair was as often as not stuffed up beneath a hat or yanked into a messy ponytail. Her face was forever clean of anything smacking of female artifice—she didn’t even darken her lashes or smear color on her lips. He stumbled and cursed as a thorny swatch caught him on the cheek.

  Okay, okay, so she didn’t need painting up. Especially those lips. And perhaps she could maintain a pretty decent level of conversation, that is, assuming she kept her tongue civil. But he’d observed her with Stella enough to know she had a fair bit of wit tucked in with all that intelligence. Of course, he wasn’t the least bit put out that she didn’t often, if ever, care to share that smiling wit with him. No, far too often he earned the sharper side of her tongue.

  And God help the man who wanted to wind his way past all that to try and steal a kiss. How he’d managed such a thing he now had no idea. She seemed more distant to him than ever. Which angered him all over again. Space. She needed space, did she? Well, wasn’t that all she’d goddamn had for the past twenty-eight years of her life? Was it honestly all that much to ask for her to tolerate his existence for a few days? It wasn’t as if he were sniffing about her, trying to paw her or anything.

  No, he saved that for the night, after his eyes had finally shut. Damn the woman for those hot, twitching dreams, too.

  He’d worked up a fairly good head of steam as he ducked around a tree, danced between its thick roots at the same time; then he almost fell facefirst into the pond when he spied her. He managed to cling to a thick branch overhead and avert certain disaster. Well, one disaster anyway.

  She was sitting on a flat rock that jutted out into the pond, tossing stones at the glassy surface … and having a nice little chat. With Ringer.

  Jesus, Joseph, and Elvis, this was all he needed to make the day complete. Relief that the little beast was safe, was brief, since there was a substantial chance that he’d wring the shifter’s neck if he so much as changed a toenail in front of Talia. At least Ringer had the sense to be the same breed of dog he’d been the day they’d first met.

  He was about to whistle for him when another idea came to him. Perhaps getting Ringer to pull one of his little shifting acts would be a good thing, after all. Prove to Talia that they were what they claimed to be. Maybe he should have just done that right off.

  She laughed just then and reached out to pet Ringer’s scruffy head. Beautiful music, that. He’d not heard her laugh like that before, without a thread of derision or surprise coloring it. This laugh had been filled with pure enjoyment. He scowled, feeling foolish for envying Ringer, even for a moment.

  He pushed through the tangle of brush and climbed the path toward them. “I see you’ve finally made the little scrapper’s acquaintance.”

  She looked up, obviously startled. Her smile remained, but a certain guardedness had crept into it. He felt a moment’s remorse that he’d ruined her respite. Had she really wanted so badly to be rid of him? Was he such a bad sort? “Baleweg was concerned that you were off alone.” A lie, but he’d also be damned if he’d let her know the emotions she’d wrung out of him this past hour.

  “I heard a howl and tracked him,” she said, the tiniest bit of defensiveness in her tone.

  His brows narrowed as he shifted his attention to Ringer, who was shamelessly lying on his back for a belly rub now. Lucky little bastard. “He’s okay, I take it?”

  She nodded, but surprisingly there was no chastising in her expression. “He’d gotten himself into a tangle with some brambles, but other than a few scratches, he’s fine.” She scratched his belly. “Aren’t ya, boy. That’s a good fella.” Ringer pumped his back legs in sheer ecstasy and groaned as she gave him a good scratch. She looked back at Archer, having to squint a bit as the sun suddenly peeked out from behind a cloud. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  That surprised him. “For?”

  She nodded at Ringer. “He’s in good shape, his coat, scruffy as it is, is clean and untangled, and he doesn’t miss many meals judging from this little belly.” She grinned when Ringer shamelessly begged for more of her attention. Her obvious joy made his skin ripple in awareness.

  “You’ve obviously kept an eye out for him. You were searching for him earlier.”

  No way did heat rise to his cheeks. “He takes care of himself like a good mate. He doesn’t need me panting about after his every move.”

  “I thought I saw you wandering down this way.” She broke eye contact, turning her attention to Ringer. With a half-shrug she added, “I happened to glance out of the tower-room window.”

  Archer grinned. So, she’d been keeping watch over him, had she? Baleweg had said she’d been distracted and needed some space. But perhaps she’d seen him and come after him, hoping to share that space. The very idea, as well as the fact that they were, indeed, alone
together made his body tighten. Surprising, considering that just moments ago he’d wanted to write her off as being entirely too much trouble.

  But when she looked back up at him, with that hint of vulnerability in her eyes, he had a hard time remembering why he’d felt that way.

  “Tell Baleweg I’m sorry for worrying him,” she said.

  He cleared his throat, feeling a bit bad now for the fib. “I’m sure he’ll understand. You were simply heeding the call of the wild, right?”

  “I guess you could say that.” She stood up and brushed off the seat of her jeans shorts. He couldn’t recall seeing her in shorts before. Her legs were exceedingly long and slender with a flair of calf muscle. Probably from all that walking. Probably had strong thighs, too, he imagined. Just as he imagined what those strong thighs would feel like, all tight and wrapped—

  He cleared his throat and dragged his gaze to the pond. “Don’t you have more lessons this afternoon?”

  “I begged off.”

  He turned to her. “Baleweg said you were a bit unfocused. Something wrong?”

  Rather than answer, she reached down to scratch Ringer between the ears. He stretched against her legs, then looked up at her adoringly.

  “Looks like you’ve got a new mate there.”

  “He’s a very affectionate little guy,” she said. “I’m surprised he doesn’t stay closer to the house. He seems to be a people person.”

  “He likes his space.” Archer waited until she looked at him. “We all do from time to time, right?”

  She shaded her eyes as the sun poked out again, so he couldn’t see what was in them. But her voice reflected weariness. And wariness. “I suppose we do. Maybe I’m used to my solitude more than some.”

  “And we’ve taken a good deal of that away, haven’t we?” She looked so surprised at his sympathy that he continued without thinking. “Am I such a callous blodger, then? You can’t imagine that I might feel bad about the way we’ve invaded your life?”