Lady X

by Claudy Conn

  She put her hand out and without her wand spoke in soft but insistent terms, “Show me.”

  Nothing presented itself. Okay, it was clear that simple magic wasn’t going to work. She would need her wand, but she couldn’t risk it.

  She shrugged and continued up to the large barn, where she dismounted. At that moment, she saw a groom walking a lovely bay mare. The mare was already fully tacked and X almost squealed with delight. Princess Tat was a beauty!

  She smiled at the groom as they greeted one another and exchanged horses. “Oh, thank you,” she said and patted the saddle. She had hoped she would be able to train, riding astride, this was perfect.

  He tipped his hat to her and led her horse off. Exerilla patted the mare as she walked her the short distance to the training paddock, speaking to her, letting the mare get used to her voice and her touch.

  The mare stood quietly while she mounted and adjusted her stirrup leathers. She quietly asked her to walk a wide circle for a few moments.

  X spoke to the mare in soothing tones gentling her, conveying to her that she would not be abused.

  The mare was fidgety, unused to X’s hands though they were gentle, unused to her legs which were strong and ready to show her spirit.

  Exerilla smiled as she watched the mare’s ears twitching while she spoke. Good, Princess Tat was listening, curious and paying attention. She continued to simply walk her, asking nothing more of the horse as they became accustomed to one another.

  * * *

  Hunter MacTorry had been rummaging through old documents, looking for the plans for the original construction of Cressly Towers. He had just found an old scroll and perused it briefly when something caught his eye outdoors.

  From the attic window he had a full view of the riding paddock, there he watched as Exerilla put the mare through her paces.

  The lass was enchanting.

  She made him feel like a bletherin’ fool. He always had this overwhelming urge to touch her when she came into view. He wanted to hear her voice and that very odd accent of hers. He marveled how her voice sent shivers up his spine. He wanted to look into her green eyes and get lost. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

  What he did know was that everything about her was lovely and unique. He wanted to know her, be with her and keep Jerry Swit away from her.

  He was not familiar with all things American, for he had spent the last two centuries traveling different dimensions and knew very little about Americans. Tracking Baudali had not brought him to the colonies.

  She was an outspoken little beauty and he found he liked that, very much. Aye, Exerilla Radley spoke right up, yet she withheld something. She was hiding something about herself, of that he was certain.

  He needed some air, he told himself, but knew it was more than that. Without his jacket, and with his white shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, he made his way out of the house and down the drive to the stables.

  Suddenly, he sensed something. All his immortal powers centered on one thing, magic was in the air. He was being watched.

  Baudali! The damned bastard was using his orb!

  A sneer curved his lips and he said softly, “Your mistake, Baudali…for I will track your magic right to you.” So saying he immediately sent out his feelers.

  As those tracking feelers got stronger, he lost the scent. It was as though Baudali realized his mistake and had shut down.

  Hunter continued down the drive to the training ring and stopped to stare.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  He knew his mouth was open and yet, the air wasn’t making it to his immortal lungs. It was as though he had lost the ability to draw in a breath.

  He made a valiant attempt to recover, and get himself under control. This was absurd. He had never felt this way before. He had been with exceptionally beautiful women over the centuries, but this…this was different.

  He saw her shift in her saddle and look at him. He saw the smile, as he approached and when her green eyes met his, getting control was out of the question. He felt a rush of heat skim through his body and he heard his inner man say, Mine.

  Ignore it, he told himself. Ignore it—doona let that dick of yers take control. Ye are not a savage.

  He licked his lips and cleared his throat so that he was able to speak and called out, “Ye handle her well.” He moved toward the fence and as he leaned onto the weathered top rail, and put a booted foot on the bottom rail as he attempted to enlist an inner calm. He had to ignore his palpitating heart.

  “That is because she is willing,” Exerilla answered with what he thought was the sweetest smile. Och aye, but she drew on something deep inside him. She was a modest little lass. She didn’t seem to be aware of her beauty, or its effect on a man, he thought fleetingly as he murmured, “Ah, that’s the ticket; I do so love a willing female.” He grinned broadly.

  * * *

  “A willing male, from my point of view is also a pleasant commodity,” Exerilla threw back at him, sure as soon as the words were out, that it wasn’t how a lady of the day was supposed to behave. She had slowed the mare to a walk as she approached him.

  He was over the fence with ease and placed a hand around the calf of her black shining boot. “So be it, lass, shall I be that commodity for ye?”

  She laughed, “Off with you, my lord. I still want to give her another ten minutes of flat work.”

  “Right then, but when ye are done and the groom has her in hand, coom up to the house. I’ll have Mrs. Lyons serve us refreshment in the garden room.”

  She frowned. She may not be up on every nuance of this era, but she knew young women did not visit bachelors alone in their homes. “That is very kind, but, would not be seemly.”

  “Nonsense. I will keep Mrs. Lyons in the room to play chaperone. You have been working hard out here in the sun. You must be hungry and thirsty.”

  She was hungry and thirsty. It had been a workout for herself as well as for the mare. She hadn’t been on a horse in a month’s time, and her legs were already feeling achy. A bit of a respite would be nice.

  However, even so, she hesitated. She knew in this day and age, it would be frowned upon. Ridiculous, but, she did have to fit in?

  “Och aye, lass, ye may rest easy. I shan’t attack ye up at the Towers, at least not today,” he teased, his blue eyes dancing.

  She found his smile very difficult to resist, her lips curved appreciatively and she cocked a brow at him, “Not today, huh?”

  “In fact, if ye like I shall ask Mrs. Lyons to keep a gun at m’head to make certain of it.”

  She laughed, “Do you need that sort of discouragement?”

  His eyes stroked her and the look he gave her made her tongue travel the inside of her mouth. He was so damned hot.

  “Aye, when ye are near, perhaps I do,” he said on a low voice.

  Her entire body responded to him. She felt her entire body twinkle for him—what the hell was that? It was as though all of her White Magic became electrified and intensified when he interacted with her. What would be the harm if she had a quick glass of water or something, she asked herself.

  “I will agree but only if Mrs. Lyons stays with us and keeps a gun pointed at your head.”

  “Done!” he chuckled and walked off back toward the house.

  “I’ll be up shortly.”

  Exerilla watched his departure and told herself to get the hottie out of her head. He was from this century and she was from the future. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was human and she an immortal and that was that. Nothing but hurt could come of it if she let herself fall for Lord MacTorry, she told herself. She sighed heavily, regretfully. She knew, it was time to walk away but she wasn’t sure she could.

  * * *

  “Aye, history vibrates off the walls, doesn’t it?” his lordship said as he led Exerilla through the charming mansion.

  “It does,” she agreed, her mouth dropping as she looked around. “When was it built?”

  �
��Ooh, I was told it was first constructed in the days of the Normans. The design is a strange mixture of styles.”

  “I love the blue turrets, and pointed gables, it looks like a fairytale castle,” Exerilla said unconsciously.

  He eyed her for a long moment, “Aye, I can see ye in medieval clothes, gliding about the ancient halls, a whispery thing of beauty.”

  She snorted, “Gliding about? Whispery? Me? Anyone who knows me would know that so does not describe the way I am or take on life.”

  “And how do ye take on life, lass?”

  “By the horns!” she said with a laugh. “I mean to go through life running and jumping and having a blast. I am not a graceful glider. I don’t always think, you see, and before I can stop myself, there I am, running headlong into something I shouldn’t and that usually means trouble,” she ended with a sigh. She thought about what she had just said and wished she could take it back. She had to be less herself and more a woman of this era.

  He laughed and looked around to find a stout woman in a white mop cap, and serviceable white apron over a crisp day gown of dark blue. Exerilla had no doubt that this was Mrs. Lyons.

  The older woman went toward her, but X saw the look of disapproval in her vague round hazel eyes, as his lordship said, “Ah, Mrs. Lyons, I think our guest would enjoy a cool drink before she has to ride home.” So saying, his lordship put his arm around the woman and gave her a squeeze. “What say ye?”

  “Ye know very well what I think,” she answered pugnaciously, but she nodded kindly toward Exerilla. Mrs. Lyons then immediately took control by stepping between them.

  Exerilla’s lips twitched for she did not miss the look of disapproval Mrs. Lyons shot his lordship as she said, “I have everything in readiness, for miss,” she glanced over Exerilla and added, “Perhaps ye would like to wash up and refresh yerself first.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Exerilla exclaimed thankfully.

  It didn’t take long for X to wash up, undo the buttons of her riding jacket and sit back with her lemonade. Mrs. Lyons chatted to her, plumped up pillows, poked at the small fire in the hearth and generally kept herself busy, but watchful.

  His lordship joined them, striding hard and purposefully through the door and Exerilla couldn’t help but note once again that Mrs. Lyons shot him a very speaking look before she said, “It isn’t m’place,” she paused and folded her hands across her substantial middle, “But, I do think, Miss Radley would be better served to finish her drink and start for home. The sky, I think, is turning.”

  Not a cloud had formed to obscure the bright sun. Exerilla was fairly certain that this was the older woman’s way of sending her safely home and securing her reputation. She was sure that staying here alone with Hunter MacTorry was a big no-no in this era.

  She smiled to herself and said, “Indeed Mrs. Lyons, I must be off, but thank you so much for the refreshment.” She got to her feet.

  It was at this moment that a resounding clap of metal against stone echoed through the house and Mrs. Lyons struck her hands together and murmured, “Preserve me from the dolts I must forever be dealing with!” So saying, she was off to find the source of the noise and X was left looking up at his lordship’s handsome self.

  Trouble started humming out its tune in her head. “Oh Trouble, the moment he walked in.”

  He walked toward her, as Taylor Swift sang out the words in her mind; she had the sudden notion that he was more man than she had ever come across in her life.

  She had to stop herself because if she didn’t she was going to throw herself into his arms. It was as simple as that.

  She put out her hand and discovered his hard muscular chest. It was a wonder that he didn’t burst out of his clothes.

  He stood in place, against her fingers. She told herself to breathe and then managed to say, “I believe we are breaking the rules. I have always been told that rules are quite necessary.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed quietly. His blue eyes were intense and she couldn’t look away from them. His hands were on her waist and his voice was a caress as he said, “So small and trim, lass, so perfectly made for a man to hold,” he slipped one hand around her and added, “The rules ye speak of were put in place to stop rogues like m’self from taking unfair advantage of lasses at moments like these.”

  All at once, she was in his embrace and he was taking her mouth with his own. Her lips parted to receive his tongue and she was swept into another universe. This kiss was just as his first, it electrified her. She had the sudden illusion that she was made for him, for his kisses and his touch.

  Oh, but he tasted like honey, sweet and delicious, and she was sure, that never before had a man tasted so good. She was lost in that moment, in that kiss, in the needing and the wanting that goes with uncontrollable desire.

  He broke away to whisper in her ear, “Ye taste like more, I must have more of ye.”

  What the hell was she doing?, Her mind was racing. She had to be strong. She was in the wrong place, and surely he was the wrong one! She broke away.

  She was alone in this house with a bachelor. She might as well put a sign over her head, tart, and be ruined in this time. She had to manage in this era for a few more months. She had to remember that women didn’t do this sort of thing, and if they did, and she was fairly certain a great number of women did, they would be far more discreet than she was momentarily behaving.

  “Stop this,” she demanded breathlessly.

  “Och, aye,” he answered softly, “I know the trusty Mrs. Lyons shall return momentarily, but Exerilla…”

  Mrs. Lyons did indeed come in at that moment bustling with the news that the chickens had escaped the hen house. They made their way into the kitchen and cook was having serious palpitations as the houseboy was making a mess trying to round up the nefarious rowdy and heathenish fowl.

  His lordship and Exerilla looked at one another and burst into laughter, and Exerilla silently blessed Mrs. Lyons. Thank goodness for escaped chickens for they had served to ease her conflict. She knew she no longer trusted herself with Hunter MacTorry.

  ~ Ten ~

  HIS LORDSHIP’S HORSE being spirited, took exception to old Jack’s slow and easy gait and reached over to give him a quick nip.

  Jack easily and with some deftness, born more of experience than agility, shied away. He was undisturbed by the much younger gelding, continued his easy plodding walk down the country road.

  Exerilla smiled as she realized her old gelding obviously knew the ropes. She said with an arched brow, “Your high stepping blood doesn’t like my poor old Jack.”

  “On the contrary,” his lordship said, his blue eyes twinkling at her. “Had Bold not liked your Jack, he would have drawn blood.” His lordship looked up at the darkling sky. “The weather does seem to be changing. Mrs. Lyons may be in the right of it. I suppose it is typical of the coast.”

  Exerilla looked up and said, “Yes, same thing in…” she held her tongue. She was about to say Wrightsville Beach.

  He shot a questioning look, “Was your home near the coast?”

  She thought, yes, like right on the ocean, but said vaguely, “Uh-huh, but a very different coast than this.”

  He didn’t answer that but said on a hurried note, “Come on lass, I don’t like the look of the sky and I know a shortcut that should serve.” He didn’t wait for her reply and obviously expected her to comply as he turned his horse into a nearby field and headed through its tall grass for the woods up ahead.

  Exerilla bit her bottom lip. She didn’t know if she should go into the woods with this rogue. Heck, she wasn’t a woman of 1815. She could handle herself—couldn’t she? She looked at the sky, and confirmed, this was not just a ploy, it did look like it was about to open up on them.

  He saw the hesitation and said, “Exerilla, trust me, I am not going to er…try and make wicked love to ye in the woods, tempting as that may be.” He chuckled and added, “Och, aye,” he cast a quick look over her, “far t
oo tempting, but somehow I shall restrain m’self.”

  She eyed him tongue in cheek before she said, “Oh, really, are you not? Well, I must be losing my touch.”

  He burst out laughing and cast an appreciative glance at her, “Ye are a very different sort of woman, little American, very different.” He sobered and said, “But I do want to get ye safely home before the sky opens up.”

  “Yes, that would be terrific,” she said on a serious note, “I want the same for you, lead on.”

  He eyed her oddly for a moment, and she knew it was because of the way she spoke. She had to learn the knack of speaking more like women of the times. She was forever slipping into her own way of speaking. Not only did she have to comply with old fashioned mores, but she had to figure out how not to be herself. A sad chore that she was sure was not going to happen, at least not with great effort and always being on her guard. How could she be on her guard for months?

  The wind picked up and slapped at her face. She couldn’t help but note how cool it still was in England for the end of May. At home on the beach, she would have been enjoying lovely hot weather and salt air. She would have…but she wasn’t.

  Home was months away and although June was around the corner, October certainly was not! She sighed and turned sideways to see his gaze on her, studying her.

  To change the sudden rush of feeling he instilled in her, to change her mood, she asked, “Have you any family? Brothers or sisters?”

  “I have a younger brother,” he grinned, “A hellion, but I haven’t seen much of him lately. He is on Wellington’s staff,” this last was said with a faraway look.

  “Wellington!” she said with sudden realization. “Of course, Wellington…” She repeated as she recalled the year was 1815. She realized how strange she sounded and said, “We Americans tend to forget you are fighting a war with Napoleon.”

  “Aye, devil take Boney!” he said and his voice trailed off.

  “Are you close, you and your brother?”

  “Aye, we are,” was all he said.

  “Have you any news from him?”