T is for Temptation

by Jianne Carlo

  She hadn’t realized her lungs had stopped functioning until the breath whooshed out in a visible puff. A swift hand-pinch test revealed a spongy lichen carpet, which had saved him from serious injury. A spew of vulgar comments about Alex’s equine skills erupted behind her, the majority issued in Tiny’s melodious brogue.

  “That’s it,” Alex barked. “Let’s settle this now.”

  Tiny Graham, still sniggering insults, which resulted in further whooping and hooting from his men, jumped off his horse, shed a snowy shirt, and dropped a gleaming silver sword on the ground. He braced his fists in a fighter’s stance.

  “Aye, pretty boy, ’tis time to do just that.”

  Alex mimicked his actions. “Go for it, jackass.”

  “Do something. That man will kill him.” She searched and met Jake’s gaze, but he ignored her frantic call and winked, arms folded, his lips twitching.

  He found this amusing? Tee scowled at him, temper simmering, but a shout from one of the Scottish men caught her attention, and she swiveled left. The unfolding scene sent a jolt to every nerve ending.

  The two men circled around the rocky terrain, growling at each other, balled hands at ready stance.

  Tiny lunged.

  Alex ducked and jabbed the bigger man in the stomach.

  Tiny’s strong arms snagged Alex’s head and crushed it against his broad chest. Freeing his left hand, Tiny cuffed Alex in the jaw.

  Fury and frustration combined in Tee’s mind. In the middle of this dire situation, these two idiots chose to fight? “Damn you two, if you want to behave like dogs fighting, then I’ll treat you like that.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up a fierce, pelting rainstorm. A flurried tickling sensation hit her chilled cheeks, and her lids flew up.

  “Oh no,” she moaned. “Couldn’t it for once work the way it should?”

  Giant-sized, fluffy dandelion powder puffs floated from a powder blue sky.

  Thousands of them.

  The poufs rained so thick they coated everything in their path—the men, the horses, the dense emerald shrubbery—creating an ashen hue and blanketing the mossy ground like a soot-tinged snowfall.

  A barrage of sneezing broke out in an uneven rhythm.

  The men weren’t looking at the pending opponents anymore. Now, they all stared at a watery azure sky dotted with cotton batting clouds, which showered dandelion clocks.

  Noses reddened as sneezes erupted at a staccato pace.

  Two frantic men ran tight circles attempting to dodge the flimsy volley as if death-threatening injury proved imminent.

  “I think you’ve got a problem on your hands, Jake.” Alex blew a pouf of frothy circles away. “Tiny, in particular, seems to be allergic to these.” He caught one in his hands, brought it to his nostrils, and sniffed in an exaggerated gesture. “Doesn’t do anything to me.” A broad macho grin curved his full lips as he mocked the giant's weakness.

  “Did she do that?” Tiny Graham edged backwards, long legs retreating. He held up his fingers in the shape of a cross. “Witch, she’s a witch.”

  And promptly ruined the dramatic declaration by doubling over as a fit of explosive sneezing wracked through him.

  “She’s not a witch. She’s my wife,” Jake growled.

  Wife? Tee blinked. Wife? And legs she had previous control over led her to his side. Tiptoeing, she tugged Jake’s shirtsleeve, and whispered, “Wife?”

  “They hang witches in the past. Play along,” he replied, his breath warming her ear, and then he shifted, blocking out visibility.

  “Oh,” she muttered, half annoyed with him, half annoyed with herself.

  Tony soured her on marriage. Being anyone’s wife meant ceding control to a man. She had no intentions of getting married again. Then, why did the notion please so? Tee crinkled her nose.

  “Tell that to the one you have waiting for you at BrodickCastle.”

  “Pardon me,” she said, crooking her head around Jake’s arm.

  “What? Who’s waiting?”

  “Your betrothed arrived with her seven very large brothers, her mother, and her father two days ago, Laird.”

  “This can’t be happening,” he groaned.

  A fiancée? Douglas had sent him to his fiancée? Her eyes narrowed, and she couldn’t decide whom to murder, her mentor, Jake, or the damned woman. Peeved jealousy strung a rising irritation, and on impulse, she pinched his ass. Hard.

  “Ow,” he yelped, clapped two palms over his bottom cheeks, and shot her a furious cut over one shoulder. “What the hell was that for?”

  “Your fiancée,” she hissed.

  “Damn it, Tee. Get a grip.”

  “She’s too bonny to be a witch,” one of the men said. “I’ll take her, Laird. You’ll not be allowed her, not with your betrothed’s brothers around. Come, sweet. I’ll treat you right. You’ll be well satisfied.” He cupped his groin and leered at Tee.

  She jabbed her hands onto her hips in response to the vulgar suggestion, tapped a booted foot in the dirt, and opened her mouth to give the man a scalding setdown. Maybe living with Tricia had some advantages after all.

  “If anyone gets her, it’s me. Tee, come here.” Alex materialized at her side, and he shoved her behind him.

  “Get your hands off her, buddy. Tee, come to me.” Jake spun about, and he stretched out his hand, features contorted into a snarl.

  She rolled her eyes, lingering irritation crossing into livid anger at their caveman, chest-pounding behavior. With an impetuous vault onto her stallion, she signaled, and Brandy, the darling, took off at a trot. Another signal and he flew into a canter. Shouts caught her attention, and she veered about to swing past them when she heard, “You’re going the wrong way, lass!”

  The shout came from the smallest, stockiest member of the bunch. He winked at her and pointed to the right. She stood in the saddle, did a little bow of thanks, retook her seat at the top of Brandy’s lead, and took off in the correct direction.

  Out of sight and finding a clear run, Tee urged the horse to a gallop. The freeing speed, the wind whipping past, the adrenalin surge, her favorite mount, all helped to soothe her ruffled, chaotic thoughts.

  Had the trunk’s magic corrupted her mediocre skills?

  Douglas never lied. He avoided the truth on many an occasion, but never had he mislead any of the nine. She tried to recall his exact words, an heirloom passed from one generation to another, and with Callum Ferguson’s death, Jake inherited the trunk. So be it. But, would he believe her? Every time he referred to Douglas, sheer revulsion coated Jake’s tone. With a long sigh, she eased the stallion to a walk and patted his sweaty midnight skin.

  “I hope they don’t miss you, boy. I wonder if it’s the same time in the present as it is in the past. I mean the same day. Oh, who cares? Why did he say wife, Brandy, and even worse, why did I kind of like the idea?”

  In the past she used many a stallion as a sounding board. Somehow, voicing her worry proved cathartic and most times resulted in a solution.

  “I suppose we’d better head back. If they thought I was a witch before, who knows what they’ll think now?”

  She covered her face with her hands when she remembered the stupid dandelion clocks and then dropped them and squared her shoulders. “I will learn how to control my powers, and I will make my own decisions. No one’s going to control me ever again.”

  A breeze circled the woman and the horse as they did an about turn and trotted in the direction of the macho men. Hearing Jake calling her name in a shout with a coarse edge to it, she followed the sound, rounded a corner and a horse collision loomed imminent until, in a deft maneuver, she sidestepped Brandy, and they faced each other.

  He dropped his reins, gripped her shoulders, and shook.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again. Hell, we don’t know where we are, what century we’re in. Women are fair game in these times. Blast it, woman, you could’ve been killed or raped, or I could’ve lost you forever.”
>
  Before she could retort, he clamped his mouth over hers and plundered, taking control, stabbing his displeasure, which softened into greed in an instant, into mutual, desperate gluttony. Tee caught the back of his head with one hand and tunneled her fingers into sable curls so soft, so silky, she melted, like sugar turning into caramel, all pliable and runny going wherever his tongue led, tangling, teasing, tickling.

  He broke away from her, panting soft, warm breaths over her lips and leaning a damp forehead against hers. “I can hear Alex shouting. He sounds almost hysterical.”

  “I’m sorry for taking off like that. I know you must think this is all normal for me, but it isn’t.”

  “Shush, witchy woman. I’m sure it scared you when you couldn’t conjure us back to our time. I agree with you. The trunk did this.”

  “I shouldn’t have shown off at the end there. Are they planning to burn me at the stake?”

  “Jesus, don’t put thoughts into my head.” His complexion regained its natural hue and his taut features relaxed as his lips curled. “It’s strange, but they discussed it, and, believe it or not, Tiny thinks you’re a gypsy witch. Apparently, they have control over animals, particularly horses. Alex and I went along with his deductions. Offer no explanations about your stunts. That’s how we’ll play it. Done?”

  “Done.”

  “They’re coming. I can hear the blasted horses. One more thing,” he said, cradling her face with warm palms. “Don’t leave me again. Ever. Deal?”

  With all sorts of hopes and odd yearnings pulsing and throbbing in organs and arteries and veins hitherto unknown, she nodded, thinking, Stay with me.

  “I don’t want a family,” he’d said.

  The statement reared, the words menacing and dooming.

  Remembrance of his strident tone spurred a mental wince, and a sudden clarity sent one truth to the forefront: she did.

  The thought of a little girl, loved and encouraged by her parents, became a focus in that moment, a proverbial light at the end of a lifelong tunnel of loneliness and emotional abandonment. Even if she couldn’t have Jake, if she had a daughter, her mind stuttered into a faltering halt and she glanced at her middle, and wondered if she could be pregnant.

  His hands dropped away as noise heralded the approach of the others, and he assumed that stoic expression she knew so well.

  A long snake of Scottish warriors rode into sight, men who eyed her with admiration-tinged wariness, and they halted as one a good twenty feet away.

  Alex trailed around them, maneuvering the mare with tentative rein-tugging and mumbled entreaties, stopping the animal with a jerk when he paralleled them.

  “What was that about?”

  “What on earth prompted you to pick a fight with a man a head taller than you? One who knows how to use a sword? Are you insane?” She rolled her eyes. “And why in damnation didn’t you stop him? You’re supposed to be his friend.”

  Alex and Jake exchanged a glance, and their amused smirks tempted her to take off again.

  “I suggest we continue our journey. Tee, no more galloping away. Alex, stay away from Tiny.”

  And who made him king of the hill? Resentment surged and dissipated as the need to stay focused became paramount. She stuck her chin out, but inclined her head in agreement.

  The warriors led the way, leaving them to follow in their wake As soon as they cleared the line of trees on their right; the other men broke into a fast trot.

  “Crap, crap,” Alex said, his voice rising. “Tee, help! The damned animal’s going too fast.”

  Tee fell back to his side. “She’s trotting. There’s a natural rhythm to it.”

  “Only if you’re a damned horse,” he snapped, tottering from one side of the saddle to the other. The mare tossed her head, neighing in protest as the reins sawed with his movements.

  “Grip the center of the saddle with one hand. Good, now watch how I rise and fall. Try to copy my movements.”

  He practiced for a few minutes, grimacing when he hit hard leather at a painful angle. “If this goes on any longer, children will not be an option. Christ. That bump’s exactly in the wrong place.”

  Biting her lip and stifling the urge to crack up with laughter, Tee doled out a litany of instructions and compliments. At the end of thirty minutes or so, Alex managed a decent trot, and he flashed a brief grin at her, although his woeful expression belied the forced aura of confidence.

  “My ass is killing me. I can’t wait to get off this piece-of-crap animal.”

  “Be careful when you dismount. Your legs are liable to be wobbly.”

  He snorted. “Don’t let that idiot, Graham, overhear you. He thinks I’m a sissy.”

  “Do you know if Jake even knows where BrodickCastle is?”

  “We both researched it on the ’net. BrodickCastle is part of the property this Callum Ferguson left him.”

  “No,” she groaned. “This isn’t good. I’m beginning to understand why Jake scowls every time I mention Douglas. Stick a pin. That explains why you both looked like that when they mentioned it.”

  “Stick a pin?” He shook his head and then rolled his shoulders forward.

  “The English equivalent of hold that thought,” she translated, morose at the implications behind his explanation.

  Ahead, the warriors slowed their pace to a fast walk. The scenery changed as they narrowed the distance between the two sets of riders, rounding up and down into twisty, craggy mounds devoid of any greenery. Moisture-laden, icy wind blew and ebbed with irritating discordance.

  “Damn, damn, damn. What does this mean?” She rubbed one temple with a knuckled forefinger. “I was hoping against hope Douglas had nothing to do with this, but it all points to the damned trunk. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here, Alex. I’m so sorry you got caught up in all this.”

  “Ah, sweetheart, don’t cry. A woman’s tears do me in.” He reached across the gap and patted her thigh. “It’ll work out. It always does. Let me tell you what I know about BrodickCastle. It’s on an island called Arran off the coast of Scotland. The climate is mild because the Gulf Stream current runs between the island and the mainland, and palm trees grow along the coastline.”

  “Thanks for distracting me. Hopefully, we won’t be here long enough to discover the palm trees.” Tee opened her fisted hand, and cold, fat raindrops dampened her flesh. “Great, it’s raining.”

  “Did you really wish those dandelion clocks?”

  The breeze blew Tee’s curls into a wild tangle around her face, and she dropped her reins. Using her legs to guide Brandy, she absently conjured a scrunchie and shoved her swirling hair into a low ponytail. “Actually, I wanted torrential rain. I figured you’d separate two men fighting the same way you do dogs, water. I don’t know if it didn’t work because of the trunk’s magic or because I’m upset. In the present, I never could control the conjuring if I’m emotional, but then again, I never tried. I wanted to be normal, so I avoided my powers. Recently, I decided to embrace them, and now I’m working on the control issue.”

  “Fascinating. What were you feeling when you tried for the storm?”

  “Annoyed with petty macho men,” she bit out. “Honestly, picking a fight with a giant like Tiny? What got into you?”

  “What happens when you think of Claridge’s? Maybe we can trick this power of yours into working,” Alex added, a sudden lift to his posture, an anticipatory gleam in his cobalt irises.

  “Nothing at all. We’re still here, aren’t we? Things really can’t get much worse. I’m sure Douglas had a reason for sending us to this time, whatever century we’re in.”

  Tee closed her eyes, and an aquamarine jacket filled her hands. “See, that worked. Perhaps it’s not the trunk after all, just me. But, I’m getting better at this witch stuff. It’s even the color I pictured.” She shrugged the garment on, tucked the fleece-lined hood over her hair, and pulled the drawstring tight.

  “Christ! That was nothing short of amazing. Wait
a minute, at your grandmother’s house,” he paused, his eyebrows flew heavenwards, and his blue eyes blazed her way. “Those little cakes, Jake said I shouldn’t be surprised if they popped up everywhere. You did it.”

  Heat scaled her cheeks. “It’s a childhood thing. I loved cupcakes, and they sort of became my comfort food. Whenever I was upset, they appeared. To this day, my mother refuses to serve cake of any sort.”

  “She doesn’t approve?”

  My, the man’s good looks grew more astonishing, especially when he tilted his head to one side and sympathy ruled that crooked, boyish smile. He listened to her words as if treasuring each syllable, as if she’d become the single most important person in the universe. No one had ever viewed her with such rapt attention. Flattered and flustered, she blurted the truth.

  “She’s never acknowledged my powers. Neither of my parents ever has.”

  “Jeez, sweetheart, how awful. You had to live with an enormous secret. It must’ve been harder than a priest hearing a murderer’s confession and having to keep quiet about it. You had no one at all to talk to?”

  “It wasn’t as bad as all that,” she said, comforted by his instant acceptance of her peculiarities. “There are nine of us witches, and Douglas, the one who insisted Jake have the chest, he guided us. Now I think about it, I’m convinced he’d never let any harm come to me. Don’t worry. He must have planned a way out.”

  Like quicksilver mercury in an old-fashioned thermometer, his mood morphed to a fever point in the flick of an eyelid.

  “Don’t worry, you say? I’m somewhere in Scotland, in an unidentified century with a witch and an idiot friend.” Alex slid to the ground, his knees buckled, and he grabbed the saddle for support.

  “I warned you.”

  “Crap, my ass has muscles I’ve never felt before.” His forehead creased. “We’re journeying to a castle Jake inherited in the year 2007 with a pack of Braveheart barbarians. Back in 2007, Scotland Yard wants to arrest you, Interpol’s hunting Jake, and I’m not to worry? Forgive me if I beg to differ.”

  His horse neighed in agreement with his heated remarks, head bobbing up and down. Hands fisted around hard leather, he took a deep inhale and blew the breath out in a long, frustrated sigh. “Hell and damnation, I might as well go with the flow. While you’re wishing, Tee, do you think you can conjure up a waterproof jacket for me, preferably lined?”