And he spake meek and mild.
“And ever alas, sweet Janet,” he says,
“I think thou is with child.”
“If that I am with child, Father,
I must myself bear the blame.
There’s never a laird about your hand
Shall get the babe’s name.
If my love were an earthly knight,
As he’s an elfin gray,
I would not give my own true love
For any lord that you claim.
The steed that my true love rides
Is lighter than the wind;
With silver is he shod before,
With burning gold behind.”
Blake and Justine came into the tavern then, their faces lighting up when they spied Alasdair and Morgaine. They made their way across the room and sat beside them, and soon Blake’s fingers were tapping lightly on the rim of the table.
Meanwhile, Alasdair sang about Janet seeking out her beloved Tam Lin to tell him of the babe she carried. Tam Lin, it turned out, was not of the Fae, but a mortal captured by them. Janet demanded the tale and the knight Tam Lin complied.
“And once it fell upon a day,
A day most cold and foul,
When we were from hunting come,
That from my horse I fell.
The Queen of Faeries she caught me
And took me to her domain to dwell.
And pleasant is the Faerie land,
But, an eerie tale to tell,
Aye, at the end of seven years,
We pay a tithe to Hell.
I am so fair and full of flesh,
I fear it will be myself.
But the night is Halloween, lady,
The morn is Hallowday.
Then win me, win me, as you will,
For well I want you to.
Just at the murk and midnight hour,
The Faerie folk will ride.
And they would their true love win,
At Miles Cross they must bide.”
Alasdair changed the pitch of his voice to sing Janet’s part.
“But how shall I know thee, Tam Lin,
Or how my true love know,
Among so many uncouth knights,
The like I never saw?”
Alasdair leaned closer to Morgaine, lowering his voice to confide Tam Lin’s wisdom.
“Oh, first let pass the black, lady,
And then let pass the brown.
But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
And pull his rider down.
For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed,
And always nearest the town.
Because I was an earthly knight,
They give me this renown.
My right hand will be gloved, my lady,
My left hand will be bare.
Cocked up shall my bonnet be,
And combed down shall be my hair.
And there be the clues I give thee,
No doubt I will be there.
They’ll turn me in your arms, my lady,
Into an asp and adder.
But hold me fast and fear me not.
I am your babe’s father.
They’ll turn me to a bear so grim,
And then a lion bold.
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
As you shall love your child.
Again they’ll turn me in your arms,
To a red-hot rod of iron.
But hold me fast and fear me not,
I’ll do to you no harm.
And last they’ll turn me in your arms,
Into the burning gleed.
Then throw me into well water,
Oh, throw me in with speed!
And then I’ll be your own true love,
I’ll turn into a naked knight.
Then cover me with your green mantle,
And cover me out of sight.”
The server brought two tall tankards of ale for Justine and Blake and another glass of water for Alasdair. He looked pleased at the song, for a few more patrons had slipped through the door to listen.
But Alasdair had eyes only for his lady’s dawning smile. His voice dropped low to tell of that All Hallows’ Night.
Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And cold was the moon’s glow,
As fair Janet in her green mantle
To Miles Cross did she go.
About the middle of the night,
She heard the bridles ring.
This lady was as glad at that
As any earthly thing.
First she let the black pass by,
And then she let the brown.
But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,
And pulled the rider down.
So well Janet minded what he’d said
That young Tam Lin did win.
She covered him with her green mantle,
As blythe’s a bird in spring.
Out then spake the Queen of Faeries,
Out of a bush of broom.
“She who has gotten young Tam Lin,
Has stolen a stately groom.”
Out then spake the Queen of Faeries,
And an angry woman was she.
“Shame betide her ill far’d face,
And an ill death may she die,
For she’s taken away the bonniest knight,
In all my company.”
“But had I known, Tam Lin,” she says,
“What now this night I see,
I would have taken out thy two gray eyes,
And put in two eyes of tree.”
Applause broke out around the tavern, and Alasdair was heartened by the shining of Morgaine’s eyes. “That’s wonderful,” she breathed. “Another from your gran?”
“Aye. She has a thousand of them, but Tam Lin is a favorite.”
“I want to hear them all,” Morgaine said firmly.
Well, if that was the price of freedom, ’twas one Alasdair would willingly pay.
*
What a wonderful story!
Morgan’s mind filled with flowing images of the Faerie host riding at a moonlit midnight, their queen in the lead and mortal Tam Lin in their ranks. She envisioned his mortal love, round with child, waiting and waiting, her features drawn with anxiety.
The planning of the page layout came in a flash, and Morgan knew she’d show the reunited lovers embracing at the lower right corner, a symbol of love conquering all. She sighed with satisfaction, her fingers itching to get to work, and felt Alasdair’s gaze heavy upon her.
He had a true gift for making a story come alive.
Alasdair smiled, as though he had guessed the praise she hadn’t even uttered. Morgan smiled back at him, welcoming the warmth that spread from her own heart. Alasdair really was the kind of man she had always wanted to meet.
Protective, strong, gentle and tough by turn. A man of honor who valiantly defended those around him. A warrior who sang folktales without embarrassment. A man unashamed to show concern for his son.
But men didn’t get sons all by themselves. Alasdair must have a wife in the fourteenth century, too.
The unexpected conclusion blindsided Morgan – as did the intensity with which she disliked it. She fought against a completely unreasonable jealousy, but still couldn’t dismiss her feelings.
Trust her to be attracted to a man who had been married for more than seven hundred years!
“Well, we have the most exciting news,” Justine declared.
Morgan, having learned to be wary of Justine when she looked so delighted with herself, didn’t encourage her sister. She could fell Alasdair watching her, and she knew that sexy smile still toyed with his lips.
And she remembered all too easily just how good those lips felt on her own. Morgan fidgeted in her chair, wanting something she didn’t dare to name.
And hating Alasdair’s eagerness to go home to be with his wife.
Irritation coursed through Morgan. It wasn’t her fault that she wa
s thinking of the highlander in a sexy way.
After all, he had kissed her.
And what kind of man did that make him? How dare Alasdair kiss her the way he did and smile at her the way he did when he had a wife?
Maybe he wasn’t that different from Matt, after all. Anger pulled Morgan’s lips into a thin line, and she sat stiffly as she simmered.
Men. They were all the same. Take away the great legs and the charming accent and the timely promises that they never meant to keep and they were all the same. Every man was only interested in sex.
She should have known better by now.
“Yes, we certainly do,” Blake agreed.
When no one asked for details, Justine still provided them. “We’re going to stay in this marvelous old inn! It has the most wonderful view of the lake and the hills and the castle…”
“And the rooms are reasonable enough,” Blake added.
“And they serve a wonderful breakfast. The hostess is so nice, she even showed us the rooms and they’re divine.” Justine sat back with resolve. “We’ve booked two nights.”
Two nights stuck here. And all Morgan wanted was to toss Alasdair back at his wife ASAP.
“But I though we were going straight to Lewis,” she protested.
Justine’s gaze bored into Morgan’s, and she pronounced each word with precision. “But it’s so romantic here. How could we resist?”
Indecision warred within Morgan. Justine had finally caught on to the Baby-Making Plan. At least that was going right.
But the price was a bit higher than Morgan had anticipated. She glanced sidelong at Alasdair and found him looking a bit confused.
“You granted me your word that we went directly to Lewis,” he said quietly.
But Blake obviously didn’t hear the danger lurking in the other man’s tone. “Well, what’s another day? We have to stay somewhere tonight anyhow,” he said, ever the heart and soul of practicality. “It’s too late to drive further, and I’d kind of appreciate a day of not driving.”
Morgan blinked. A day of not driving? Someone had stolen away her brother-in-law and replaced him with a living, breathing replica.
Maybe it had been the fairies.
Then Blake gave Justine one of those sizzling smiles that they shared all too seldom, to Morgan’s way of thinking, and she knew she just couldn’t disagree.
By the looks of it, this would be her only chance to hold a bouncing baby on her knee.
Somehow, she’d have to survive.
Alasdair leaned forward to protest, but Morgan sent a lethal glance across the table. It not only silenced him but seemed to stun him.
“I think it’s a great idea,” she said firmly, before Alasdair could voice an opinion. “I can hardly wait.”
Alasdair sat back, his expression wary.
At least he hadn’t argued with her. All the same, Morgan was a bit surprised that this change of plans hadn’t brought on another volcanic eruption, as it had the last time.
He hadn’t even called Blake a liar, which was most unlike Alasdair. Morgan sneaked a peek through her lashes and found the highlander looking thoughtful. What was he up to now?
Nothing good, that was for sure. Morgan had an uneasy sense that the ground was going to shift under her feet.
Shields up; phasers on stun.
But the anticipated shot came from friendly territory.
“Great!” Blake dropped a key on the table. It had a plastic tag labeled “Room 7.” “Well, if you don’t mind, we’d kind of like to spend the evening on our own. There’s a little restaurant on the other side of the hall, if you tell them you want dinner.”
One key?
Morgan waited, but no other key joined it on the table.
In fact, Blake and Justine got to their feet, linked arms, and smiled, looking like a united – and hurried – front. “Have a good one, then.”
“But where’s the other key?” Morgan asked. She snatched up the key and waved it at the departing pair, as if they had missed this critical detail.
Justine wouldn’t have.
She couldn’t have.
But when that Mona Lisa smile slid across Justine’s lips, Morgan knew she’d been had.
She wouldn’t share a room with Alasdair! She just wouldn’t.
“Oh, they only had two rooms left. One for us and one for you. Didn’t I mention it?” Justine waved off Morgan’s sputtering and practically hauled Blake toward the door. “Oh, well, I knew you wouldn’t mind.” She stretched and pressed a kiss to Blake’s cheek, whispering something in his ear that made him inhale sharply.
“We’ve got to go! We’ve really got to go.” Blake almost tripped over his words in his haste. “Hey, Morgan, I’ll bring up your bag when I get ours.”
“You can’t do this!” Morgan cried and bounced to her feet. “I won’t let you get away with this!”
But they were gone.
And most of the other patrons in the bar were getting a really good look at Morgan shaking that key.
She spun around, sat down on the edge of her chair, and fixed Alasdair with a stern eye. “We have to go and sort this out,” she said in a firm tone. “There has to be another room. After all, we can’t share a room.”
To Morgan’s dismay, a seductive smile curved Alasdair’s lips. “Can we not, my lady?”
An almost forgotten heat spread languorously over Morgan’s flesh, leaving her tingling and weak-kneed in its wake. Damn him! How could she be so susceptible to his charm?
He was married!
Of course, that hadn’t stopped Matt.
How could Alasdair imagine that Morgan would willingly be little Miss Here-and-Now, knowing full well that he had a family waiting for him in the past? It was disgusting.
Morgan could just about spit.
Justine was going to regret this one, that much was for sure.
“No, we cannot share a room,” she insisted. “And we aren’t going to.” Morgan marched out of the bar, determined to set matters to rights, one way or the other.
*
’Twas not very flattering, the way Morgaine responded to what Alasdair saw as an admirable opportunity. Mercifully, she had absolutely no luck in weaseling another key out of the proprietors.
Alasdair wondered whether there truly were no other accommodations available or the advisors had bribed the staff overly well.
Either way, he had nary a complaint. Someone looked fondly upon him and his quest, ’twas clear, for he could not have arranged matters more to his satisfaction.
Perhaps he should indulge in prayer more frequently than was his wont. Those few Ave Marias in the Micra seemed to have had marked results.
At any rate, Alasdair had two entire nights to seduce Morgaine. And he knew the merit of his amorous talents well enough to smell success in the wind.
Her hand had trembled within his, after all.
’Twould be a slow and thorough loving. The very prospect heated his blood to a boil. He would taste every increment of her delectable flesh, nuzzle and caress her, memorize the location of every mole and freckle that graced her skin. Alasdair would make Morgaine moan aloud, make her cry out in her release, grant her untold praise for the enticing form she had taken. He would pleasure her as never she had been pleasured before.
And Alasdair would do it again and again, until they both were languid and exhausted.
Then they would do it again.
His pulse began to pound in his ears. His palms were damp and ’twas not because the stairs were overly steep. Morgaine’s hips swung beguilingly right before his very eyes, and he decided he would remove the tights with his teeth.
Slowly
Aye, they would need to be dragged from Room 7 two days hence.
But the sorceress, clearly unaware of the delights in store for her, looked fit to spit sparks as she marched up the stairs to the second floor.
Alasdair, in contrast, found himself whistling in anticipation.
Morgaine whirled
on the landing and glared at him. “Would you stop that? You really haven’t been a lot of help here. You could have insisted that they find another room.”
“And what need have I of another room,” Alasdair murmured, letting his amorous intent shine in his eyes, “when ’tis Room 7 where you will be?”
Morgaine wagged a stern finger at him, obviously taking advantage of being able to look him in the eye, since he was still three stairs below her. “Don’t even go there, mister. Save your bedroom eyes and romantic talk for someone more likely to fall for it.”
Before Alasdair could answer that, she stormed down the narrow hall, peering at one door after another in the dim light. To regain some control over his raging desire, Alasdair glanced around the corridor and was not particularly taken with the dozens of flowers painted on the walls.
A fearsome amount of work ’twould be – and for what? Without a good torch in the sconce – merely some flickering wee glow – a man could barely see them anyway.
Feminine frippery. It could be naught else.
Finally, Morgaine fitted her key into the last door on the right and shoved the door open with one toe. She stepped over the threshold and gasped.
Alasdair knew the moment of the hunt was upon him. He lunged after the sorceress, only to catch the closing door with his nose.
“No! You can’t come in!” Morgaine desperately tried to push the door closed, a hopeless task against a man so much stronger than she.
Had he not known better, Alasdair might have thought her afeartie.
But of what?
Surely not of him?
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 51