by Nina Bangs
She followed his gaze down to where a white cat sat at his feet. The cat studiously ignored her in favor of Darach.
"I want to officially welcome you to Castle Ganymede. For the time you're here, just think of me as Ganymede MacKenzie, the Scottish chieftain who's going to make sure you have a good time. The Cosmic Time Travel Agency always delivers." He clapped her on the shoulder and almost knocked her down.
He sounded a little too jolly, and though he was speaking to her, he'd fixed his gaze on Darach. She took the opportunity to look into his eyes.
And just as quickly looked down. Talk about false pretenses. He might be masquerading as a bluff, good-natured Highlander, but those amber eyes said "predator" loud and clear. His feelings? She'd just take a peek. Blythe reached for his emotions, blinked, then backed away. Wow. Talk about aggression.
"Well, well." Ganymede's smile never wavered, but his gaze grew so cold it made Blythe shiver. "And you are?" His complete attention was on Darach.
"Darach. And no MacKenzie bears the name Ganymede." All of Darach's playful sensuality had disappeared, leaving the same stranger who had scared Blythe witless. "Ye need ask permission before ye bring guests into my clan's home."
Ganymede raised one bushy brow. "Your clan's home? Looked like a crumbling pile of rock to me. Said 'fixer-upper' loud and clear. I claimed it. I restored it. It's mine."
"I dinna think so." Darach's voice was a whisper of menace.
Blythe widened her eyes as the emotion she'd looked for hit her with enough force to drive her back a step. Not the emotion she'd hoped for, though. Anger was a living, breathing force between the two men.
And the power she felt scared her. She didn't know what was going on, didn't want to know. Forcing her attention away from the men, she glanced down at the cat. It had deserted Ganymede and was weaving a sinuous pattern around Darach's legs as it gazed up at him with bright, interested eyes.
"At least one of us isn't intimidated, kitty." She smiled at the cat.
Blythe shook her head to clear it of what sounded like a light tinkle of laughter. Great. Now she was hearing things.
"I want your butt out of my castle, bud. You'll upset my guests." Ganymede's voice had risen.
"Ye'll not send me from my home. Ye'll find another place to play your games, or I will cause ye grief." Darach's voice had lowered to a dangerous murmur.
"You and what army of skirt-wearing wimps?" Ganymede was almost shouting now. "Don't count on home court advantage to help you."
Blythe did some mental eye-rolling. She was not going to stand here and listen to this deteriorate into a shouting match. Okay, so Ganymede was doing all the shouting, but she still wanted outta here. But first she would make one attempt to defuse the situation.
"Why don't you come with me, Darach, and have a drink to calm down? Then you and Ganymede can talk business with a little more maturity." She reached out to tug at Darach's arm.
Her tug was like touching a pure power source. He looked at her with the same effect as if she'd been zapped by a few thousand power pulses. The sizzle and burn of his immense anger left her fingers clutching his arm, unable to release him.
Slowly he relaxed and offered her a tight smile. "I might be tempted to have a wee sip, but not tonight." His lips softened, and his eyes promised that the wee sip would be with her. Once again, he absently placed his hand over his heart. "I must return to my room, but be verra careful in this place. 'Tis not always safe for those who do not know it."
Puzzled, Blythe watched him stride from the great hall. She would've sworn his warning was aimed at Ganymede, not her. And why hadn't he stayed to eat? Blythe didn't for a minute think that Ganymede had intimidated him.
Once Darach had left, she turned to look at Ganymede.
His expression was thunderous, and he seemed to have forgotten her. He glared down at the white cat, which was studiously avoiding his stare. "Okay, smart mouth, what do you think I should do?"
Fine, so Ganymede talked to his cat. She could live with that. Blythe glanced toward the table, where everyone had stopped eating to avidly follow the exchange between Darach and Ganymede.
"It's like this, little lady." Without warning, Ganymede clasped her arm and propelled her toward the table. "This Darach guy is bad news. I'll work on getting rid of him, but things like this take time."
Ganymede almost pushed her into a seat between Textron and one of the female guests. Both looked startled, but Blythe suspected that their reactions were to Ganymede, not her. She'd just bet that everyone around Ganymede perpetually wore a startled expression.
Textron leaned toward her. "I've found the perfect subject for you."
Great. Just great. The slimy worm wasn't going to give her even one night of down time.
"Now, you enjoy your meal and don't give another thought to that blood-sucking fiend." Seemingly satisfied that he'd offered a perfectly logical explanation for everything, Ganymede strode away with the white cat padding after him.
"Blood-sucking fiend?" Blythe gazed down at her plate of blackened meat and an unidentifiable large rootlike vegetable with what she suspected was a dazed expression. "What was he talking about?"
The woman leaned toward her. "I think he means that your man is a vampire." She smiled at Blythe. "Don't be afraid of the venison. It's tough with a bit too much seasoning, but I suppose it's what people eat in 1785." She frowned. "I don't know about the root thing. Looks weird to me."
Blythe stared at her in wide-eyed horror. "Vampire?"
Oh boy.
* * *
Chapter Two
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Ganymede knew that if he didn't get out of the great hall he'd do something evil. Right here. Right now. He couldn't afford for that to happen.
He stormed from the castle, past his gape-mouthed guests, and out into the Scottish night. Sparkle padded beside him. He paused in the middle of the courtyard to take a deep gulp of cold air.
I am reformed. I really like being good. Being nice is fun. What a bunch of garbage. He hated being good. He wanted to be bad, dam… darn it. If he didn't think the Big Boss was watching, he'd…
Too late for what-ifs. He was a victim of his own success. He'd caused so much trouble during the last few thousand years that the Big Boss had grounded him. Forever. He was stuck with being a nice guy, so he couldn't blow the vampire to bits and scatter his pieces across the universe. No blowing up and scattering allowed by the Big Boss. Ganymede cast a considering glance at Sparkle, who was busy sniffing the night air. That didn't mean someone else couldn't do it. Someone who was totally unreformed.
"I love the scent of sex in the night. Rich, full-bodied, sensual. Like licking chocolate syrup off a man's naked—"
Ganymede took a sniff. "All I smell is heather."
"Mmm. The scent of heather. Two hundred years ago, I spent a night in the heather with two exceptionally talented Highlanders. Rolling in heather is prickly, but the sex was great."
"Yeah, yeah. I get the picture." He tugged at his kilt in a vain effort to make it cover more of his legs. Stupid piece of clothing. The cold Highland wind still reached under it with gleeful fingers. If he stood here much longer he'd have icicles hanging from his… He shook his head. Icicles were a non-issue right now.
"Why the he…" Ganymede drew in a deep breath. He couldn't use that word anymore. He couldn't use any of the words that really expressed his feelings. "Why in heaven's name does everything have to be food or sex with you?"
"It's all about happiness, my reformed cosmic troublemaker." She arched her back in a leisurely stretch, then twined her sinuous body around his ankles. "The senses make me happy. I love to roll around in them, coat myself with every luscious experience."
Ganymede pushed away memories of a few specific "luscious experiences" shared with Sparkle long ago. "Forget all that. You're a cat now. Help me figure out how to get rid of the vampire before he scares my victims… I mean my guests away." He had to stop thinking like a cosmic t
roublemaker, but the familiar evil thoughts wouldn't leave him alone.
"I'm in cat form. I can still appreciate the finer things in life." Sparkle cast him a sly glance. "And your vampire is very old, very powerful, and very yummy." She licked her mouth with a delicate pink tongue. "Like the smooth slide of brandy warming me all the way down after a night spent celebrating chaos and destruction." Her gaze turned wicked. "Like the moment I wrap my legs around a man who thought he couldn't be seduced, and he realizes—"
"Got the message." Ganymede chose to ignore the tiny stab that was definitely not jealousy. "All that stuff's easy for you to say. You don't have Mr. Dark-Evil-and-Deadly living in your castle." Dark. Evil. Deadly. Ganymede had been all of those and more at one time. The numero uno, evilest basta… Great. Another word he couldn't use. The evilest not-a-nice-guy in the universe. Was he feeling a little wistful here, a little nostalgic for the bad old days? "I wish I were him."
Ganymede blinked. Oops. He hoped no one important had heard that. "Forget I said that."
Sparkle turned her orange-eyed gaze on him. She smiled, exposing small sharp white teeth. "We had some great times, didn't we?"
Ganymede exhaled sharply. "Yeah."
Her gaze softened. "I still remember—"
"Don't remember. The old Ganymede is dead. Deal with the new one." Ruthlessly he shoved aside thoughts of dark nights and hot sex with a flame-haired seductress named Sparkle Stardust.
"I liked the old one better." Some elusive emotion appeared in her cat eyes.
He didn't even try to read the emotion. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Now, here's the deal. I need you to spy on the vampire. If in the course of your spying you have to kill him, hey, that's life. Just don't tell me. And I need you to make my guests fall in lust with each other. Oh, and I want a ghost."
"A ghost?" Her expression said she was not through talking about "it," but that she'd bide her time before pouncing on the subject again.
"Yeah. I promised the guests there'd be a ghost. Makes the castle more authentic. Every castle should have a ghost." His castle would have it all. "I want the ghost of Bonnie Prince Charlie. He was famous for something in Scotland, wasn't he?"
"Maybe you shouldn't—"
"Don't argue. I won't settle for anyone but Bonnie Prince Charlie."
"But he's not dead yet. Sure, I can go into the future and bring back his ghost, but don't you think it's a little silly when he's still—"
"This isn't negotiable. I want Bonnie Prince Charlie." He started back toward the great hall.
"Okay, okay." She mumbled something under her breath.
Ganymede paused at the door and smiled. It felt great to hear someone curse him again. He was supposed to be good now, but he still got a little zing from annoying her. "Oh, and don't open your mouth and blab to anyone. A talking cat would upset the guests."
"Sure. No blabbing." She slipped past him as he opened the door. "Get this straight, though. I'm helping you because of what you once were, not because of what you've become. You're a major disappointment, Mede." Then she was gone.
Inexplicably, her words really bothered him. Ganymede pushed the door shut, then leaned against it and closed his eyes. He had ultimate evil living in his tower, a viper-tongued assistant giving him flak, and a bunch of horny guests expecting sexual nirvana.
His tummy hurt. He'd have to drink a whole bottle of the pink stuff.
Darach relaxed while he stared into the hearth's flame. Blythe would not be happy to find him resting on her bed when she returned from her meal. He smiled. He hoped she would try to remove him. The bed was the most comfortable place in the room, and Darach rarely denied himself things that brought him pleasure. Neither a soft bed nor a beautiful woman.
With half-closed eyes, he touched his world, using senses so sensitive he could hear Blythe's footfall as she began to climb the stone steps toward her room. He savored his anticipation.
While he waited, he enjoyed the faint woman scent still alive in this room, the intense blues and greens of clothing she had flung across a nearby chair, and the crackle and hiss of the fire. And from without the ancient walls, the wind whistled, calling to a need he had denied as long as possible. He would drink tonight, but not from anyone in this castle.
His smile turned mocking. Ganymede would most likely give him eternal indigestion, and Blythe… Darach's smile faded. Blythe would tempt him to excess. No, he would go elsewhere tonight.
Patiently he waited while she tried the door, paused when she remembered it wasn't fastened, then pushed it open.
Blythe stood in the doorway, an angry Valkyrie with a fall of golden hair that would tempt a man to barter his soul and trade a score of his years on earth for a chance to slide his fingers through its strands.
Darach had no soul to barter, but he could well afford a score of years. Since he wanted to do much more than run his fingers through her hair, he suspected a score of years would not be nearly enough.
With hands on hips, she strode into the room, fearless in her anger. "This place is wacko. Textron has picked you as my test subject, Ganymede talks to his cat, and you wouldn't believe the woman who sat next to me." She flung off her shawl and sat down on the chair he'd rejected.
Test subject? "Ye would do well to stay away from Ganymede. He is not what he seems." Darach recognized the irony of his words.
"That's what Ganymede said about you." She paused in her tirade long enough to register that he was resting on her bed. "What's with you? Are you directionally challenged? This is my room. Get off my bed. Go sprawl all over your own bed."
"Ye must tell me about this Textron first. 'Tis a strange name." Come lie beside me. Remove your gown, and let me touch your breasts with my lips, taste the smooth skin of your stomach, bury myself in your heat, and share the life flowing through ye.
Her gaze grew unfocused for a moment, then cleared. "Okay, I tell you about Textron and you leave."
Darach blinked. She had not answered his call. He had rarely resorted to drawing a woman to him with his mind, but when he had, they had come to him. Was his power diminished because he had gone so long without nourishment?
Distracted, he put his hand over his heart. Still beating. When uncertainty touched him, the miracle of his beating heart steadied him, renewed his confidence in his power.
"His father invented a fabric called Textron. It's completely indestructible but abrasive next to the skin. He named his son after the fabric. The name fits. Textron is a real pain, and nothing gets rid of him."
Darach did not wish to know about Textron, but he enjoyed watching Blythe speak of him. Her emotion shone from eyes that were a golden brown. Warm eyes. Eyes that hid nothing. "What did Textron say that fashes ye so?"
She bit her lip, and he knew she was wondering how much to tell him. He cared not what she said, because his attention was fixed on her lip: moist, full, and vulnerable. It spoke to the predator in him. Darach pushed himself to a sitting position, then leaned against the carved headboard. He bent his knee to ease his growing… interest.
"I guess you have a right to know. Textron is my supervisor, and he scanned the emotions of everyone in the great hall. No one was unhappy enough to suit him, so he chose you. He doesn't know squat about you, but he said you were seriously depressed." Her gaze narrowed at the thought of Textron. "Anal retentive liar. He can't read your emotions any more than I can. He's setting me up for failure."
Anal retentive? "I dinna understand. Why must I be your test subject, and why would he think me depressed?" Darach could easily read her thoughts to find the answers to his questions, but the pleasure of watching her speak was not to be denied.
Blythe stared at him, and he sensed her pulling apart the truth, deciding which parts she would tell him and which she would keep secret. He smiled. Women could not keep secrets from him. Few tried.
"My position at Ecstasy is unstable right now." She drew in a deep breath. "If you're on an assignment for the company, no matter wha
t it is, you're in a no-sex zone until you finish the job. Ecstasy thinks that sex is a distraction, and nothing should interfere with an employee's work. Textron's job is to monitor my performance, and my job is to make you happy. So company policy says no sex for either one of us until the job is finished."
Her gaze slid away from him, and he recognized her reluctance to tell him the rest. "I got a little too personally involved with my last client. Textron somehow found out and reported me. His report earned me a giant red X on my evaluation form next to: always maintains a professional relationship with customers." She crossed her legs and stared down at her lap while she folded and unfolded her hands.
"Ye tried the forbidden sexual solution? Did it work?" He wondered about her legs. They would be long and smooth, rubbing against his thighs as he lifted her to meet his thrust, then wrapping around him as he plunged—
"I don't know. The company reassigned me to their Casper, Wyoming, office. Someone else took over the client." He read her regret in her lowered lids, her deep sigh. "Do you know how much unhappiness there is in Casper, Wyoming?" She didn't wait for his reply. "None. A little angst, a few emotional potholes. You don't know the true meaning of boredom until you've tried to find sad people in Casper, Wyoming."
He tried to focus on Casperwyoming. "Why would ye stay with this Ecstasy Incorporated when it does not allow ye to use all your skills? Ye could have found another place to work."
She shook her head, and strands of her long, gleaming hair framed her face and slid across the swell of her breasts. He forgot about Casperwyoming. How would that hair feel gliding across his bare stomach, his sex?
"Not an option." She frowned. "Besides, the company was right and I was wrong. I'd convinced myself that since I already had the relationship thing going on with my client, it was okay to supplement my work-related skills with sex. It seemed the right thing to do at the time." She avoided meeting his gaze. "A weakness. I enjoy the sensual in life more than an Ecstasy employee should."