by Treva Harte
Okay…you're okay. You just need to figure out what's going on. You can do this—even though you haven't got a clue where you are—even though you're tied to a bed without a stitch of clothes, you've got to pee worse than you can ever remember and whoever most likely tied you up is either dead or passed out on the floor. Think, Carly!
She banged her head back against the iron bedstead.
Ouch.
Damn, she couldn't even rub the bump. She could, however, feel the rope on her left hand begin to loosen. She looked closely at the knot—the end of the rope had slipped when she tugged at her restraints. It was barely caught within the knot.
She tried to reach it with her teeth. Crap! That wasn't going to work. She bent her fingers forward until she could barely flick the end of the rope with her fingertips. It was stiff and she pushed at the end, shoving it as much as she could toward the loosened knot. Suddenly, the end slipped through the loop and the top of the knot popped free.
It took just a moment of wriggling her wrist to loosen the rope enough to slide her hand out. Flush with victory, Carly quickly untied the rope holding her left wrist, then released both feet.
“This is almost too easy, girl…” she muttered, turning slowly on the bed and sitting on the edge to get a good look at her captor.
“Holy shit.” The cabby! It had to be the guy who'd brought her out to the inn. Long and lean, the man sprawled across the floor as if he'd been shot. One arm stretched outward, the other lay near his hip. His long black hair was partially untied, the leather thong holding just the last six inches in a loose knot. His back was lean and muscled, his skin a deep coppery gold shade that appeared to be as much from his ethnicity as exposure to sunshine. He wore an old pair of blue jeans. His feet were bare.
Long, narrow feet. She swallowed, suddenly aware she'd stood up and was staring at his feet like they were some sort of sexual turn on.
Your timing sucks, sweetheart.
Tiptoeing carefully around him, Carly glanced toward the door. It was still dark out, she didn't have a clue where she was, and without a stitch of clothes on she certainly wasn't willing to brave the unknown. She dug into the man's ribs with her toe, regretting the stupid move the minute she did it.
That was, until he didn't respond. Was he dead?
His eyes stayed shut, the thick lashes pressed like black velvet against his skin. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes and his jaw carried the shadow of a day's growth of beard, but it didn't disguise the strong line of his jaw or the sensual fullness of his lips.
Intrigued in spite of herself, she leaned over and touched his throat. A slight pulse confirmed he was alive.
Good. Unconscious. But for how long?
Long enough, she hoped, giving in to nature and searching for a bathroom. There were just two doors in the small cabin. One, larger, sturdier, obviously led outside. She took the smaller door.
The bathroom was bigger than she'd expected, given the overall dimensions of the cabin. It was spotlessly clean but old-fashioned, with a wooden water closet high on the wall over the toilet and a chain to pull for flushing. After relieving herself, Carly rinsed her mouth out with cold water and splashed more on her face.
A man's dark blue flannel shirt hung on a brass hook by the door, but there was no sign of her own clothing. The shirt was clean, but held a trace scent of whoever had worn it last, a pleasant soap and man smell that tickled her nostrils.
At least the shirt was large and fell half way to her knees. Buttoning it to just above her breasts, Carly felt a bit more in control. Quietly, she stepped back into the main room.
The man hadn't moved. She recalled the bottle on the table. Was he drunk? She watched him a moment longer, her anger growing by the second. What the hell was going on? Had he molested her? She didn't feel as if she'd been raped, but she felt violated just the same.
“I don't know who you think you are, buddy…” She glanced at the bed, at the ropes neatly fastened to the frame, then back at the unconscious body lying on the floor.
“Your turn,” she muttered. Sometimes it paid off being taller than average and definitely athletic.
Feeling more confident by the minute, Carly grabbed the man under his shoulders and turned him toward the bed. It wasn't easy, but considering the fact he had to be well over six feet tall and close to two hundred pounds, she felt quite proud of herself by the time she had him stretched out on the bed.
She tied his hands first, making certain the knots were much better than the ones he'd used on her. She had to make a conscious effort not to look at his chest.
Damn, he was absolutely beautiful.
She turned to restrain his legs. His jeans were unsnapped, though the zipper was still up. A line of dark hair began at his navel, then disappeared in a neat trail beneath the denim.
He'd left her tied to the bed naked. Turnabout was fair play.
Almost giggling with her own audacity, Carly quietly slipped the zipper down on his pants. His cock was flaccid, hidden beneath clean white cotton briefs, but there was no ignoring the fact the package was complete and more than adequate.
I don't believe I'm doing this… With shaking hands, she tugged his jeans down his long legs, fighting the impulse to touch the springy dark hair covering his thighs and calves. She hesitated a moment before removing his underwear.
What the hell… She grabbed the elastic band around his slim waist with more a sense of guilt than she'd expected. Hadn't he done the same thing to her?
The cotton shorts slid easily over his hips, caught briefly on the bulge where his cock sprouted from his groin, then slipped the rest of the way down his incredibly long, well-muscled legs.
Embarrassed now, Carly couldn't even look at what she'd uncovered. Instead, she quickly bound his feet, tying him securely with the ropes fastened at the end of the bed. He was so tall, his feet reached clear to the footboard. She checked all the knots, then stepped back to finally take a look at her prisoner.
Asleep, he appeared so young. She'd thought him at least mid-thirties or so when she'd seen him yesterday…now she wasn't so sure. His lips were full, cheekbones high and sharply defined.
He certainly didn't look like a rapist. It was difficult for her to think of him in that light, especially considering the wonderful fantasies she'd been weaving about him last night—the one she'd awakened to this morning.
He might be sexy as hell, but he'd kidnapped her, stripped her naked and tied her up. She sucked in a hard breath as her anger returned full force. Sexy or not, he'd damned well better have some answers. Carly watched him a moment longer, aware of her body's response to a nearly perfect male in such a vulnerable situation. She couldn't ignore the thoughts creeping through her mind. She could touch him, tease him, make him understand the humiliation of bondage before she left him here and called the authorities.
Or, she could act like an adult and go for the police as soon as the sun came up.
Suddenly, before she could pursue the options, her captive stirred. His dark lashes slowly lifted, she recognized a moment of confusion, then a broad smile spread across his beautiful face. He didn't seem the least bit concerned, or even interested in the ropes holding him captive. Instead, he studied her far longer than was comfortable.
“Shit,” he whispered, almost as if the curse were a prayer. “You're here. You're really here.”
Chapter 3
“Of course I'm here, you bastard!” Her brown eyes flashed with anger, her hands were clenched into tight fists and she looked absolutely glorious. “You kidnapped me, didn't you?”
It was all Tim could do not to laugh out loud. She was here, in the flesh, obviously uninjured by the transfer. Damn, she was every bit as magnificent as he'd imagined. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin, the surge of power and heat that hadn't truly left since he'd first spotted this woman in Mal's vision. Weird. He shouldn't be getting hard, not after such a huge outlay of power. He almost laughed. There was no denying the surge of bl
ood to his cock, the tingling awareness in his balls.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said, struggling to keep his rapidly awakening libido under control. “I guess you could call it kidnapping…it's not like I gave you a choice.”
“You're damned right you didn't give me a choice. Why? What were you planning? Rape? Ransom?” She laughed, the sound brittle, frightened. “If it was ransom, you picked the wrong target, sweetheart. The fare and that tip I gave you after the cab ride took just about all my cash.”
“Tip?” What the hell was she talking about? Cab ride? “When did you give me money? What cab ride?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it and leaned closer to him. The flannel shirt gaped a bit between her breasts. He wanted to stare into the deep shadow separating the full globes, but Tim forced himself to watch her eyes.
Bittersweet chocolate brown, even darker than the coffee he'd first imagined, framed in dark, gold-tipped lashes. Suddenly, a little knotted wrinkle appeared between her eyes.
“You're not the cabdriver?” She frowned. “I thought you were the cab driver. I was sure you…well, hell. You look so much like him.” She stared at him. “No. Now I see a difference, but you guys could be brothers. Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?”
“My name is Tim Riley. I'm a soldier of the Rebellion…or I was.” This was definitely going to be confusing…how could he possibly explain?
The truth never hurt…
“The Rebellion's ended, but I was ordered to bring you forward after our healer saw you in a precognitive vision. We're not sure what your role is, only that you have one in our society.”
She opened her mouth as if to reply, blinked and snapped it shut. “What society?” she finally asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about Earth in the twenty-second century. You're from the twenty-first, aren't you? I'm not sure, but the mindlink felt familiar. A lot has happened in the last hundred years…” His voice trailed off as she stared at him in disbelief.
Damn, he wished Malachi or Sheyna were here. They'd do a lot better job of explaining. The woman glared at him as if she thought he should be committed.
“You're nuts,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “I'm leaving. I'll let the authorities know how to find you once I get to…” She glanced toward the window, where the morning sky grew lighter by the minute. “Well, once I get someplace where there are people to contact.”
“That would be the Armand Institute. It's about a half hour hike down the mountain. The trail is fairly well marked,” Tim said. “Ask for Doc…that's Doctor Malachi Franklin. He'll explain everything better than I'm obviously doing.”
She shook her head. “You don't seem dangerous. Weird, though. Definitely weird.” She glanced about the small cabin. “Where are my clothes? My shoes?”
Tim shrugged his shoulders as best he could, tied so tightly to the bed. “I'm not sure. Wherever they were when I brought you forward, I imagine. For some reason, clothing doesn't appear to make the transfer through time. I'm not sure why. It moves through space easily enough.”
“Right. Like I believe that.”
She looked ready to take a swing at him. Tim thought about that a minute. At least anger was better than fear. He really didn't want to frighten her. He wanted to keep her talking.
He certainly couldn't let her leave. He glanced at his cock, merrily rising to attention. Amazing…this has never…shit. She'd really think he was nuts, lying here, staring at his hard-on. He looked up and smiled at her. “My clothes, however, appear to have had some help. Do you want to tell me why?”
“It seemed only fair.” She looked in the direction of his face, but her eyes kept straying to her left, obviously checking out his growing erection.
It turned him on even more to know she watched him. “I guess I can agree with that. I know part of me is thrilled.” He nodded at his cock, bobbing now as if it had a life of its own.
She turned in slow motion, as if entirely against her will, to stare full on at his penis. He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed. Her eyes widened. Suddenly, she appeared to realize exactly what she was doing.
With a muttered curse, she turned, stalked across the room and grabbed the door. Of course, the handle wouldn't turn. He'd bolted it before the transfer.
She swung around and held her hand out. Anger radiated off her in palpable waves. “Where's the key?”
He nodded toward the jeans. “Check my right front pants pocket. I think it's there.”
She marched back to the pants, wadded in a heap on the floor where she'd left them, dug through the pockets and retrieved the key. She glanced up at him, her brown eyes filled with confusion and surprise. “I didn't think it would be there. I thought you'd lie.”
“I have no reason to lie to you.” Tim tugged gently at the ropes. “Are you going to untie me before you go?”
“No.” She stood up, watching him warily. Her gaze slipped once more to his swollen cock, then she quickly looked away. Tim knew he was large compared to most men. He wondered if that appealed to her, if women from her time were as much into a guy's penis size as women now seemed to be.
“No,” she said again, taking a deep breath. “I don't think that's a good idea. It's been…” She paused a moment and stared intently at him. Tim sensed regret, almost as if she wished they'd met under different circumstances.
He certainly did. She'd never forgive him, once she realized everything he'd told he was true. Lying might be kinder.
“It's been interesting,” she muttered.
“Will you at least tell me your name?” Tim's voice broke slightly on the question. Damn, he just didn't know how to talk to a woman, much less one he was interested in. Trying to carry on a conversation when you were naked and tied to a bed didn't make it any easier.
A throbbing hard-on made it practically impossible.
“It's Carly,” she said, pausing in front of the door. “Carly Harris.” She sighed, an audible sound in the small room. “Look, I promise I'll send someone to untie you. You didn't really hurt me, so I won't press charges, okay?” She turned the key in the lock and slid the bolt open.
With a telekinetic flip of the mind, Tim slipped it shut.
Carly stared at the door, turned slowly to stare at Tim, then directed her attention back to the door. Once again she unlocked it and slipped the bolt open.
“I really can't let you leave, Carly. I have my orders.” He slammed the bolt home, harder this time, for emphasis.
Eyes wide, Carly turned back around and stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost.
Sighing, Tim knew it was now or never. Using his Talent, he untied the restraints holding his hands and feet. The ropes moved like live things, undulating through the twists and turns of Carly's carefully tied knots, slipping free in a heartbeat. For added effect, Tim carefully rolled the lengths of rope into neat loops and placed them on the bed.
All without touching them with his hands.
“That's sort of how I brought you here,” he said, turning around and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. At least his erection was beginning to subside. “I'm a telekinetic. In this century, it's not all that unusual to have various Talents. Some people…”
“What did you just do?” Carly's harsh whisper interrupted him. “There's no such thing as telekinesis. I've read about it. It's fake.”
“Do I look fake, Carly?” Tim shrugged his shoulders. “I'm as real as you are.”
“I don't understand.” She looked like she needed to sit. Fast.
Tim stood up and grabbed her by the elbow. She didn't even struggle when he led her to the closest chair at the kitchen table. “Here. Sit down. I'll get you some water.”
He detoured quickly to pick up his jeans and slip them on without bothering with the cotton briefs. Then he filled a glass with cold spring water from the tap. When he handed it to Carly, she stared at the clear water.
“It's okay. The water's pure. No contaminant
s. It's from a spring up higher on the hill. Drink.”
She nodded and took a sip of water, her brown eyes gazing blankly at him over the top of the glass. She looked shell-shocked.
“If you want, I can tell you more about what's going on.” He swallowed, searching for words that would make sense, words that would make her accept the fact she could never go home, never return to her own world.
His shoulders slumped. He recalled the day he admitted to Jenna he'd been the one to bring her to this time. Remembered the guilt he'd felt, to think he'd…what was the word Carly used?
Kidnapped… That's what he'd done. He'd kidnapped Jenna. Now he'd kidnapped another. He'd made the decision to alter their lives forever. Did Malachi's vision actually give him the right? Tim hoped so. Now he'd seen Carly Harris, he knew he couldn't live without her. Somehow, he had to make her understand.
Then, he had to make her love him.
Chapter 4
She'd had sexual fantasies all her adult life, but never, not in a million years, had Carly ever conjured up one quite like this. At some point she was going to wake up and wonder what in the hell had been in the glass of cognac she'd had the night before.
Right. Don't blame the cognac, kiddo.
Her pending panic attack began to subside. She clutched the water glass like a lifeline. This was not hypnosis, not a hallucination. She was too alert to be on drugs. She swallowed, took a deep breath, let it out slowly…stared intently at the man sitting just across the table from her.
He didn't look crazy. No, he looked good enough to eat. Carly took a deep swallow of the water, then held the cool glass against her forehead. He believed he had brought her forward from her time to some nebulous period in Earth's future. Maybe he had. Right now, she wasn't going to argue.
It was all just too bizarre. She had to accept the fact he wasn't the sexy cabdriver. No, this guy was even better than the one who had starred in her most recent fantasy. She recognized some of the same ancestry in his face and coloring as she had in the cabby, though now she really had a chance to look him over, he was obviously not the same man. Still, the coincidence was unnerving.