by Nina Bangs
"The room will be comfortable by the time ye return from the meal." He stood, then stared into the fire. "Ye'll want a great pile of covers to keep away the chill when morning comes and the fire dies."
Turn around so I can see your face. She needed to put her unease to rest, give a human face to her fear.
"A man would do as well. Body heat doesna die with the morning."
His suggestion was a rough trail of temptation, raising goose bumps that had nothing to do with the night's chill. Remember your fear. But somehow she couldn't whip up the panic she'd felt such a short time ago. That didn't mean she'd heaved out her common sense along with her terror.
"The fire's great. I don't need anything else." She suspected if she spent much time listening to the dark compulsion of his voice, she'd be willing to explore alternate heating sources. But of course she wouldn't, because she had work to do here, and sex wasn't part of her job description.
"We all need something else." With that cryptic comment, he turned.
Blythe stood riveted. If ever the term "terrifying beauty" had meaning, she was looking at it. In her time, body and face molders could give every person the look he chose. But that was only a surface thing. Cosmetic surgery couldn't reveal inner demons.
This man's face hid nothing. Every hard line was elemental male, a face men would fear and women would… recognize. He was the hot primitive need that lived in every woman no matter how much she denied it. Blythe's gaze slid across his lips, so sensual that she could almost feel them softening on her mouth. She avoided his eyes. She wasn't ready to go there yet, because she could admire his beauty, like the perfect storm with its wild magnificence, while still recognizing the danger. She didn't need any heightened sensitivity for that analysis.
"Welcome to my time. Ye have not told me your name." He moved closer, and the room warmed proportionately.
Okay, he knew about the time travel. So why was he accepting it calmly? His clothing screamed primitive. It was 1785, for heaven's sake. Why didn't he run screaming into the night or accuse her of witchcraft? She shivered. Witchcraft. The possibility of becoming a toasted crunchy wasn't a fun thought.
"You don't seem too upset at the time-travel concept."
"I know of things ye could never imagine. So why would I not believe ye've traveled through time?" He sounded sincere.
Things ye could never imagine? That was not a comforting answer.
"Ye do have a name, do ye not?" He sounded amused.
"Blythe." She supplied her name automatically.
The long, tangled glory of his hair brought the night with it. She couldn't imagine it pulled back and tamed. Blythe knew she should look beyond his hair, beyond the hard lines of his jaw, the full temptation of his lips, to his eyes. She still wasn't that brave yet.
"Blythe? Ye have no other name?" Again he moved closer.
"I'm Blythe number 56-2310 on my birth records. I was the fifty-sixth Blythe born in 2310. But the number is only for official identification." He loomed over her, broad shoulders blocking out the fire's light, moving into her personal space and bringing with him a message that confused her.
She'd spent a lifetime reading other people's emotions and dealing with them. Blythe felt nothing from him but… power. Layers of power. Sexual power that tempted and seduced. And a darker power, the one she'd felt drawing closer, the one she'd responded to when he first knocked.
What hid behind all that power? she wondered. Did she really want to know?
" 'Tis a cold name for a woman such as ye."
The wicked slant of his lips suggested he'd like a shot at renaming her. His name would probably be something like Blythe Hot-In-Bed.
Time to shift his attention from her. "How about you? Who are you, Darach?" Her intuition said she'd need a few lifetimes to get an answer to that one.
"I am the MacKenzie. This castle, this land, belongs to my clan. I dinna spend much time here, but this is the home of my youth, and I return to it when I must." He seemed distracted as he reached out to slide a strand of her hair away from her face, then touched the silver Ecstasy charm at her throat.
Blythe checked to make sure the strands weren't smoldering. The rest of her sure was. "The castle looks deserted except for our tour group. Where's the rest of your family?"
Some emotion she couldn't identify tightened his jaw and narrowed his lips. "They dwell… elsewhere."
Blythe might not be able to read his emotions, but she understood perfectly that he didn't want her to know much about him. Secrecy. Secrets often spawned stress and unhappiness. Possibilities blossomed. She smiled.
"Sounds like your life is pretty lonely." She should be so lucky. Loneliness was a surefire indicator of unhappiness, and Blythe was all about curing unhappiness.
His gaze was fixed on her lips, and it was as though he'd touched them with his fingertips. She firmed them to discourage touching.
He shrugged. "I need no company but my own." His gaze warmed on her mouth. "Ye should smile often."
She rushed into speech before she lost her breath completely. "So I suppose the travel agency rented the castle from you." She couldn't help it, she backed up.
"They rented nothing from me." A slant of his lips hinted at humor she knew wouldn't reach his eyes, if she had the courage to look into his eyes. "I intend to discuss this with them."
Absently he put his hand over his heart. Maybe she should give that a try to slow down her own heartbeats.
"This was my home before the castle stood, and I willna let Ganymede and his hireling drive me from it." He leaned toward her, and she backed away another step. He smiled his satisfaction.
Before the castle stood? Okay, enough. At this rate, he'd back her out the door and down the tower's winding stone steps. She needed to think about the before-the-castle-stood thing, but she had other worries at the moment.
Blythe searched for her nonexistent spine and stiffened it. A rubbery spine would not get the job done. She was letting the castle, the night, and this man play games with her mind. She needed to take control.
"I'll just get my shawl. Remind me to ask Ganymede for some kind of lighter to start a fire so I won't freeze to death here. An Auto-temp-regulator would've been nice, but I guess he didn't think of it." She scuttled sideways away from Darach and refused to consider any comparison to a frightened crab.
"Autotempregulator?"
Her courage increased in direct proportion to his puzzlement. "And I didn't see any bathroom. What do I do if I have to, you know?" She waved her hands to indicate the importance of you know. "Anyway, there's only so much authenticity I can stand. I'll discuss life's little necessities with Ganymede over dinner."
"Ye have a chamber pot beneath your bed." Puzzlement gone, amusement back.
"Thanks. I'll remember that." Eeew. Could she hold it for two weeks? Worth a try.
Blythe reached for her shawl, part of the "authentic" wardrobe Ganymede had insisted his time travelers buy so that they would blend in with the locals. She had deviated a little from what was authentic, but hey, it was her trip.
At the same time as she picked up her shawl, she scooped the Freeze-frame from her purse. A three-inch equalizer. Uh-oh, no pocket. Turning her back to Darach, she dropped it down her bra and breathed a hope that she wouldn't have to go fishing for it.
Pasting a bright smile on her face, she turned. "Okay, all ready. Let's go."
Blythe's smile faded as Darach strode across the room, took the shawl from her nerveless fingers, and settled it across her shoulders. It was as though every one of her uncertainties about him lay across her shoulders, weighing her down with unanswered questions. Why couldn't she read his emotions? What had he meant about being here before the castle stood? Why did he make her so uneasy? Why did he make her… ? She slid her gaze the length of his hot body. Fine, so she already knew the answer to that question.
"Ye've traveled far, and the things ye dinna understand about this place could harm ye. 'Tis foolish ye are
to have come here. And Ganymede is not what ye think. Ye would have done better to stay safely at home with your Autotempregulator and bathroom." He shifted a bit closer.
That was it. She refused to retreat another step. In one breath he'd threatened her and insulted her decision-making abilities. Without thinking, she met his gaze.
What a big fat mistake. He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Blythe had once visited a moraine lake that had water exactly that shade, so brilliant that you forgot about its depth, about its bone-chilling iciness born of the glacier that formed it.
Blythe saw it all in his eyes. Depths she couldn't read, didn't think she wanted to read. And unbelievable coldness. Automatically she reached out with her senses, searching for emotion, any emotion. Nothing. It was as though he'd closed a door in her face. He must have feelings, everyone did. Maybe he doesn't.
Blythe looked away first. She couldn't figure anything out on an empty stomach. "I'm hungry. Let's go down to the great hall." Trying for casual, she walked to the door and hoped he'd leave her room while she tried to secure the stupid latch. Again.
"Ye speak verra strangely." He didn't sound like he was leaving.
"I used the Language Assimilation Program to learn the most ancient dialect available. Unfortunately, the most ancient dialect was from the early twenty-first century." She shrugged. Would he leave now?
Blythe was silently swearing at the latch in Riparian, a language with really great descriptive curses, when she felt him stop behind her. Felt him. His body, his heat, his scent, which touched her with something so elemental it made her draw in a deep fortifying breath. Turning, she forgot all about the door.
"Doors never keep out those who truly wish to enter." His soft statement stilled her, took on a meaning she didn't want to examine.
She chose to ignore hidden meanings. "Right. This door wouldn't keep a Kadian sand biddle out."
"Kadian sand biddle?" He smiled. Really smiled. "This sand biddle sounds like a fearsome creature."
Blythe had traveled the galaxy and beyond, and never, absolutely never, had she seen a smile like that: dark and wicked, with the promise of nights filled with sinful pleasure.
She blinked. What had he said? "Oh, the sand biddle." She needed to get out of range of that smile before it took her down like a Tomar light missile. "It's pretty harmless." Blythe edged away from him. "It's a small insect. Gets into your clothing, bites you, and leaves a huge purple blotch that takes a week to fade."
Sucking in her breath to make herself as thin as possible, she slid past him and out the door without making body contact.
"Not all things that get into your clothes and bite are harmless." She heard the laughter in his voice as he closed the door behind them and followed her down the castle's dark steps.
Blythe didn't worry about the door being unlatched because she'd brought the danger with her. "Things that bite?" She tried to ignore his presence behind her. Fat chance. "Don't tell me there're wild animals outside." Earth in 2339 didn't have any more wild animals.
"Outside? Mayhap 'tis the one inside ye need worry about."
She could almost feel his warm breath fanning her neck as he followed close behind her. Blythe shivered. She didn't try to pin down the cause of her shiver.
"If you're trying to scare me, forget it. I don't scare." Lies, lies, and more lies. He scared her. Because she didn't understand him, and she always understood people. Because she didn't know how to deal with such a totally sexual animal.
Blythe was so busy thinking about sexual animals and unexpected bites that she missed her footing in the dark. With a squeak of alarm, she reached for the stone wall in an attempt to stop her fall.
Her hand never reached the wall. With a muffled curse, Darach wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. "I canna believe Ganymede has not lit the sconces so his guests might see where they step."
"I could've broken my neck." She breathed in short gasps that had nothing to do with her near disaster. Since he was on the step above her and a lot taller than she, when he'd grabbed her he'd settled his hands below her breasts instead of around her waist.
"Aye, and to waste a neck such as yours would be a terrible thing." She felt his soft laughter as he leaned down to murmur in her ear. She had the feeling he was enjoying a joke only he understood. " 'Twould have ruined my whole century for such a thing to happen."
"Century?" One word at a time seemed her limit right now.
"Hmm." His lips touched the hollow of her neck. "Did I say century? Mayhap I meant day." He slid his tongue over the spot his lips had touched.
Blythe's breath caught as his touch sizzled and sparked all the way to her toes. At this moment, the creatures that growled in the night outside the castle seemed no danger at all compared to the sensual threat of the dark Highlander who stood behind her.
She was losing her perspective. This trip was not about enjoying a stranger's mouth on her neck while she fervently hoped he'd slide his hands up to touch her breasts. What did she know about him other than he'd scared her witless? Maybe this was a nightly ritual with him: seduction on the stairs, dinner, then a good night's sleep. She opened her mouth to express her feelings.
He released her before she said anything, and she stood, bereft, on the steps. Chill night air crept inside her open shawl and touched the spot on her neck that was still warm from his lips. Shaking off her inexplicable sense of loss, she continued down the steps, but this time she kept one hand on the stone wall.
"Why have ye come here? The castle offers little comfort, and ye dinna seem overly interested in the 'sensual possibilities' offered by those who brought ye." His voice was cool, as though the heat of a few moments ago never existed.
Sensual possibilities? She frowned. Oh, yeah. The Cosmic Time Travel Agency had promised a sexual adventure, a romantic escape to a distant past when men were men. No kidding.
A sexual adventure was the last thing Blythe wanted. Her last foray into sexual waters had landed her in hot water with Ecstasy Inc. When she'd found out that this trip was all about erotic discovery, Blythe had told Textron she didn't want to go. She'd asked him to choose a different tour, but he'd said it would be the perfect test to see if she could focus on the job and ignore the sensual.
Was that what the whole thing on the steps had been about? The thought made her mad, and she didn't have a clue why. "I'm not here for a sexual holiday." She made her voice as cool and uninterested as his. "I work for Ecstasy Incorporated, and my job is making people happy." Absently she fingered the Ecstasy charm that hung from a chain around her neck.
"Ye do it well, lass. I was verra happy while we stood on the steps above." He sounded sincere.
"I don't use sex to make people happy. Sex is short-term. I'm in the long-term happiness business." Amazing that she could talk through clenched teeth. "In my time, scientists have conquered disease and aging. All it takes are a few tiny body implants. I chose to have the implants put in when I was twenty-five, and I'll remain twenty-five unless I'm killed in an accident or the victim of a crime." She was so involved with her explanation that she barely noticed they'd reached the bottom of the steps.
She turned in time to catch his startled expression. Good. His surprise empowered her.
"This has caused unexpected problems. Earth is overpopulated, and living space is scarce and expensive. People have to work throughout their lifetime to support themselves and their families. When people can't look forward to retirement, and they have nothing in their futures but more work for untold years, stress reaches cataclysmic proportions. Some become desperate enough to have their implants removed or even take their own lives."
She paused only long enough to note his intent interest. "My company is dedicated to lessening the effects of stress, to bringing calm and joy into the lives of those teetering on the edge of emotional breakdowns due to overwork. Ecstasy Incorporated doesn't offer sexual solutions, but instead depends on the talents of its well-trained Happiness staff
." Blythe frowned. She sounded like one of Ecstasy Inc.'s ads. All cold facts, but no passion. Where had her passion for the job gone?
"Ye should not dismiss the power of sexual solutions." He didn't smile, so she assumed he was serious.
She shook her head. "I use a variety of methods sanctioned by the Intergalactic Association for the Relief of Stress and Depression to make people happy and productive again." Blythe's frown deepened. Why did she feel the need to justify her methods to this primitive who probably solved his unresolved issues by pillaging a few villages? "I can make anyone happy." She'd never felt driven to boast about her power before. Why now? He makes you feel defensive, that's why.
His expression suggested he doubted her boast, but he made no comment about it. "I would not wish to live in a world such as ye describe." He guided her toward the glow of candlelight and the murmur of voices coming from the great hall.
Blythe thought about that. "I guess extending people's lifetimes indefinitely does have its down side."
He was silent beside her.
The great hall transported her to another time and place. Okay, so she was already in another time and place. She had no idea how authentic this setup was, but it looked like a passable reenactment of a castle meal in 1785. Candle glow and the hearth fire cast a surrealistic light over the long table and the six people seated around it.
As they paused in the doorway, a man rose from the table and came toward them.
Even though she'd met Ganymede briefly when she first arrived, Blythe still widened her eyes at the total impact of him. He was huge, all mass and muscle, and he had to be close to seven feet tall with wild flame-red hair and a bushy beard. His dark-green-and-blue-checked kilt completed the picture of an ancient Scottish laird.
"Hey, great to see you again, Blythe." He was all booming good cheer, but his glance barely touched her, then shifted away.