The cold rain sluiced over them and Baird’s hand slid beneath Aurelia’s sweater. His fingers cupped the ripe perfection of her breast and he marveled at the softness of her skin.
Her nipple instantly became a hard bead beneath his caressing thumb. Baird ducked his head and nudged the neck of the sweater aside, running a row of kisses across her flesh and capturing the nipple between his teeth.
Aurelia moaned. She slid her foot up his leg and Baird’s blood fired. He suckled her until the nipple was taut, then Aurelia rolled her hips against his raging erection in a silent demand. Baird captured her lips beneath his own once more, sampling her deeply and leisurely, trying to tell her with his kiss what he could not explain in words.
This was not lust. This was something more, some connection on a deeper level, some recognition of a passion that had been between them before. A legendary passion, a desire for which he sensed he had paid a heavy price not once, but many times.
A passion that Baird could not remember.
When Baird lifted his head, Aurelia’s azure eyes were drowsy with desire and her lips were softened. Baird cupped her head in his heads as he caught his breath, knowing he had come within a hair of making love to this stranger in the rain.
He was still thinking about it.
But she couldn’t really be a stranger. It would be crazy to feel such a strong attraction to someone he had never met. They must have been together before, even though Baird couldn’t remember it.
But he never forgot anything or anyone. Baird’s photographic memory was legendary.
It made no sense. How could Aurelia turn him inside out, remind him that they had been together, yet slip out of his memory as elusively as a ghost? Baird stared down into Aurelia’s fathomless eyes as though he would will the truth out of her.
“Who are you?” His voice was unexpectedly hoarse, even to his own ears. “Who are you really?”
*
Chapter Six
Aurelia raised a hand to her burning lips, shocked by her own response to the kiss she had initiated. Oh, the man had a dangerous allure!
And contrary to expectation, this time he had more than responded to her kiss. What had changed? A dangerous heat flared deep within Aurelia and she was unaccountably grateful that he had stopped their embrace.
She was honest enough to admit that she could never have done so.
Had her wits abandoned her? This man had killed her only brother! And even though Hekod had escaped the sea cells, it had been no kindly gesture to abandon him there.
Aurelia forced herself to step away from the villain and proudly lifted her chin. “I have told you that I am the Princess Aurelia.”
“There are no princesses anymore,” he growled.
Aurelia inhaled sharply at his obvious dismissal of her parentage. She was right - he intended to have everyone forget about her sire!
Well, Aurelia was not prepared to comply.
“Then, I shall be only Aurelia,” she retorted and headed back to his hall. She hoped desperately that he would not be able to discern the effect his kiss had on her own ability to walk. Her knees were quivering and she had a hard time marking a straight path. This was not a good time to realize that her will was more feeble than she knew.
Bard swore under his breath behind her but Aurelia did not look back. She heard his footfalls, but determinedly headed for the palace. “Don’t forget your key, princess.”
Aurelia glanced back to find him offering her the magical square, though now it was dark with mud. They certainly took such powerful witchery for granted in his domain! Aurelia snatched it back and wiped it pointedly on the front of his sweater.
Bard did not seem to notice. He gripped her elbow and fairly lifted Aurelia to her toes. “Let’s hurry it up, then. Julian will have my head if you catch pneumonia out here.”
Aurelia was more than happy to quicken her pace. The heat he had awakened beneath her skin was sliding away, leaving her feeling chilled in its wake. “It is you who has insisted on lingering in the rain for no good reason,” she retorted.
Bard rolled his eyes. “And you had nothing to do with that?”
Aurelia shrugged deliberately. “What can I do when a warrior so much larger than myself forces his attentions on me?”
“Forces!” The word exploded from Bard’s lips. “You were the one who started it!”
Aurelia tossed her hair. “And you were the one to prolong it.”
Bard shook his head and rubbed his brow with his free hand. “I’m sure I’d remember a woman as troublesome as you. Where have we met before?”
Aurelia glared at him, not liking his choice of words in the least. “We have never met.”
His green gaze locked assessingly with hers, the heat in his eyes sending an answering shiver over her flesh. Aurelia again had the uncanny sense that he could read her thoughts.
Oh no! She had forgotten to pretend to be simple!
Aurelia summoned an elaborate shiver and rubbed her arms. She batted her eyelashes and contrived to look stupid beyond all. “Why, look at the foul weather! Hasten yourself! Do you not have the sense to come out of the rain?”
Bard eyed her skeptically. “I went out in the rain to get you,” he observed.
Aurelia giggled and danced a few steps ahead of a newly wary Bard. “And now we are all wet!” She spun and wagged a playful finger at him. “I shall want a bath now, a very hot one, if you please!”
Bard shook his head and looked puzzled. “Then, have one.” He seemed to notice his own wet clothes for the first time. “It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually.”
“But I am your guest, so I must have mine first!” He levelled a glance at Aurelia that she chose to ignore. “I will have mine now!”
They were near the hall now, and before Bard could say anything more, Aurelia turned and darted into the building. She was up the stairs in the blink of an eye, fumbling with Julian’s token as she raced down the corridor.
To her astonishment and relief, the light glowed red thrice as soon as she shoved the square into the narrow slot.
And she was safely inside. Aurelia closed her eyes and leaned her back against the door, her heart pounding in her ears. She had nearly ruined any chance of being underestimated by this wily conqueror. Bard had nearly guessed that she was clever and even now, she had left him wondering.
Curse her unruly tongue! Aurelia shoved a hand through her wet hair and shivered, hoping her bath would come very soon.
*
But time passed and no bath came.
The heady scent of masculinity teased her nostrils and Aurelia realized suddenly that she still wore Bard’s tunic. She hauled the garment over her head in disgust and cast it across the room, not wanting anything that had graced his treacherous hide against her flesh longer than necessary.
But his scent clung to her own skin in most troubling way. Aurelia scrubbed at upper arms, but Bard’s musk rose even stronger, as though it would taunt her with her unhealthy attraction to him.
Aurelia would not think about his kiss. She would not think about how her skin tingled beneath his touch. She would not relive the slow caress of his thumb across her breast.
Her renegade nipple, though, tightened in defiant recollection.
And Aurelia would not, under any circumstance, think about Bard’s tongue, let alone its beguiling dance. She could have melted before his amorous assault without so much as a whimper of protest.
Curse Bard for not responding as she had expected him to! He was supposed to be revolted by her.
Aurelia conceded that he seemed to have recovered from that at a most inconvenient time.
Was the priest’s counsel gaining appeal in his mind?
Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat and she refused to even consider the prospect of wedding the cur. No, her time would be better spent in studying her luxurious prison. There might well be another means of escape - one that Julian had not bewitched with ringing bells.
Aur
elia let her gaze dart over the room’s finery and noticed a small room immediately to the left of the bed. Aurelia held the magic card tightly, for a protective talisman was no small thing in this palace of marvels, and stepped cautiously into the chamber’s darkness.
The floor was shockingly cold beneath her feet. Aurelia jumped back against the wall and something dug into her shoulder.
Light flashed overhead and she cringed in terror at whatever she had done. She wildly waved Julian’s card skyward in supplication, but the light stayed on.
Aurelia slowly opened her eyes, her heart still pounding in her throat. A row of bright orbs on the far side of the room glowed with fierce intensity. She scanned the room suspiciously, but could find no explanation for the change she had witnessed.
Darkness had changed magically to light when she came into the room. Aurelia stepped back over the threshold, but the lights remained bright. She jumped on the floor tiles, with no effect. She waved Julian’s talisman in and out of the chamber, but the lights burned on.
Inexplicable. Aurelia looked to see what had dug into her back and found a little lever. She peered at it, then touched it again.
It moved.
The light went off.
Aurelia jumped in alarm at the sudden darkness, then looked to the lever once more. While the room was wreathed in shadows, the lever glowed with an eerie orange light.
A sign of its magic, most certainly. And orange could only mean the element of fire, the source of light and heat. Respectfully, for its size belied its power, Aurelia moved the fire lever with gentle fingers again.
The chamber was once more flooded with light.
This delighted Aurelia no end. There were no spells or incantations to recite, no candles or herbs to be burned. This magic was simple enough for a babe. She even put down the magic card and the fire lever still worked.
Finally, Aurelia tired of the fire lever and explored the chamber itself.
Everything was smooth and shiny within it. There was a table wrought of stone set right into the wall, and with a hard basin inserted into its midst. Strange golden shapes arched over the basin, but Aurelia was fascinated by the mirror that lined the entire wall behind the table.
She had never seen a mirror wrought so fine. Aurelia had a mirror of her own, to be sure, - she was a noblewoman, after all! - one that had been her mother’s, though it was made of polished bronze. And small. Round with a handle, she could hold it in one hand.
Never had that mirror returned an image so faithfully as this one did. Aurelia could see the scar on the back of her shoulder clearly for the first time. A symbol of her love of her crossbow, it had been earned on her first, illicit lesson from the archer.
Aurelia touched the scar and remembered. Her mother had long forbidden such lessons, a demand that was not surprising given that Gemma had believed in the curse laid upon Aurelia at her naming. Aurelia, despite her skepticism of such portents, had not had the heart to defy her.
But when Gemma died, Aurelia could resist the crossbow’s allure no longer. This wound had been no one’s fault but her own, although the flow of his sole daughter’s blood had made her father bellow like a cornered bear.
After that, her lessons had been furtive no longer.
Aurelia smiled in recollection. The wound had been mended quickly, as had her sire’s blustery temper once he realized the damage was slight.
Concern for Hekod’s present predicament stole away Aurelia’s smile. Somehow she must find that old woman again and learn whatever she knew.
On the back of the door of the little room, Aurelia found a veritable treasure. A robe of deepest blue hung there, its fabric thick beyond all. She liked the gold embroidery on its front - it was stitched with great skill and precision with the words We Treat You ROYALLY stitched around the crest.
Obviously, the robe was meant for her. Aurelia immediately wrapped herself in its welcoming softness, rolling up the ample sleeves and knotting the belt about her waist. It was fine, far finer than a prisoner of war like herself could expect.
Gratitude warred with her distrust of Bard’s intentions. The robe was lovely, but she would not be so readily swayed by gifts.
There was a little basket reposing before her and Aurelia emptied its contents to push such thoughts from her mind.
Toothpaste she read on the side of a pinched little tube. She opened it and found green gel inside. It smelled of wild mint. Aurelia checked her teeth but found them well secured, as usual. Obviously she did not need this frippery, though she wondered why Bard’s household felt compelled to glue their teeth in place.
Bath Oil declared the next bottle, much to Aurelia’s delight. Nothing like the oil from herbs in the bath! She sniffed the turquoise liquid within and identified both elder flowers and meadowsweet. Aurelia set the little bottle aside with approval, drummed her fingers and glanced around the chamber.
The very sight of the tub made Aurelia’s skin itch. Surely, in a hall of this size, water could have been heated by now? There could be no dearth of servants in this place.
Where was her bath?
Aurelia stalked back into the main chamber. Was this some kind of torture, tormenting her with the possibility of a bath while withholding the water? Did Bard mean to let her languish in her fine prison, ignored and unattended, despite his pretty words?
Aurelia prowled the perimeter of the room restlessly, examining each stick of furniture that the whore had bought. She must be making good progress in emptying the king’s treasury.
The tapestry on the far wall hid a massive window that overlooked the sea. Aurelia shoved the fabric aside and tentatively touched the clear barrier against the wind and rain.
No stretched pig’s gut this. It was clear as crystal and hard as rock. The rain spattered against it on the far side, not a drop leaking through to this rich chamber though the water coursed down its other side.
Aurelia shook her head, suddenly feeling very tired. She could marvel no more, so overwhelmed was she by what she had already seen this day.
The rolling waves made Aurelia think of her father’s cousins. She scanned the horizon, unable to spy a single great sail drawing near. How could this massive place have been built before her relatives completed the two day journey from Norway?
Could the priest from Rome have cast a spell across the seas? Or had he managed to have this stone hall spring skyward in but a single day? Either prospect was daunting to imagine, but there could be no other explanation.
It could be that she had been drugged for weeks, but if that were the case, where were the Vikings? Her family would not abandon Hekod when he needed their aid, Aurelia knew it, or have lingered in answering his call. They must be en route, even now, even if Julian’s sorcery had delayed their progress.
The Vikings would come. And by the time they did, Aurelia would find her father, so he would be prepared to assume his kingship once more. Aurelia would have to do so without Bard guessing she had managed the deed.
It was her only hope.
*
The old groundskeeper approached Baird and Marissa as they considered the site where the main restaurant was being built. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still high. Fortunately, there was a bit of a lee on this side of the building.
All the same, Marissa had thoroughly communicated her disapproval of the situation and suggested twice that they retire to her room. Baird wondered what had possessed him to let her come here.
Marissa was much easier to deal with by facsimile.
“Mr. Beauforte, sir, I’m not meaning to be bothering you, but have you finished with those hedge clippers?” Talorc turned his battered felt hat in his hands and periodically shot a very blue glance from beneath his bushy silver brows at Marissa.
Baird found the older man’s response amusing. Certainly, Marissa was from a different world in comparison to the groundskeeper. Talorc looked to have stepped out of an age gone by, dressed in worn brown dungarees, held up with antique s
uspenders that might have been his grandfather’s. The groundskeeper worked with slow effectiveness, each twig on the estate apparently having a story to whisper to his attentive ears.
But if Talorc seemed ancient, his mother was even more so. The two had evidently lived in a little cottage on the property for as long as anyone could remember. It had quickly become clear to Baird that acquiring Dunhelm had meant also acquiring its self-appointed groundskeeper.
Fortunately, Baird liked Talorc. The old man certainly knew a lot about both plants, not to mention the castle itself, and he worked diligently at any task he undertook.
Even if Talorc had refused to have anything to do with clipping back the thorns.
Marissa sighed theatrically when Baird excused himself. “Do hurry, darling, it’s beastly cold out here.”
Baird retrieved the clippers from the corner where he had left them and smiled as he handed them back to the older man. He shoved his hands into his pockets, more than glad to take a break from Marissa. “They may need to be sharpened, Talorc. Those thorns were pretty tough.”
“Were they now? Well, sir, they’ve been growing on that site for more than a thousand years as the story goes. I’d expect they’d have grown tough roots in that time.” Talorc grimaced and turned the clippers in his callused hands, as though checking the state of a precious charge.
Baird’s curiosity was piqued. “There’s a story about the thorns?”
Talorc shrugged. “If you’re wanting the truth of it, you’ll be needing to ask my mother.” He flicked a glance to Baird and his tone was gruffer than usual. “She’s the one as recalls every little bit of every tale she ever heard, and tells it as though ‘twere her very own.” He smiled wryly. “I’m only the one as can listen, if you know what I mean.”
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 8