The Pleasure Master (11 page)

She abandoned the cloth long enough to trace with her fingertip the white line of a scar that slashed across the middle of his lower back, to wince at the imagined pain. “I fell off my bike when I was ten years old. Landed on a piece of glass and needed stitches in my leg. I still remember how much it hurt.”

“I fell off a horse onto the knife of an enemy. 'Tis not something soon forgotten. It has made me overly careful about falling off horses.”

She moved the cloth lower and rubbed the fabric over each marvelous bun. Her body clenched on a need so strong that she froze. She couldn't believe
the things her mind was suggesting she do with those buns. No wonder it didn't have time to keep her hands and feet in control. It was too busy thinking up erotic activities involving Ian's . . . lower extremities.

As she stood frozen, doing a bang-up imitation of a wax figure, Ian turned. Her hands were still poised over his . . . lower extremities.

She swallowed hard. Speaking of hard . . . No. Not even her wayward hands had the nerve to go
there.

Kathy raised her gaze to Ian's.

His eyes glittered a silver challenge. “Ye canna tell me, Kathy of Hair, that no man can make ye feel. If ye touch me now, I will lay ye down beside yon pool and teach ye the truth of yer own body.”

The cloth dropped from her nerveless fingers. Forcing her gaze the long gleaming length of his body, she admitted the truth.

She didn't know whether Ian Ross could help her achieve the long sought after, ever elusive orgasm, but he certainly made her want to try.

Another truth coughed politely, gaining her attention. She couldn't try with Ian Ross, because if he succeeded where her ex-husband had failed, she'd be forced to feel something for him. And he was a man for whom no woman should have feelings. The ultimate love-'em-and-leave-'em guy.

“I . . . I have to do something.” Without even trying to make her retreat seem anything other than the escape it was, she turned and hurried down the
tunnel with her puny pen flashlight casting its tiny beam.

Behind her, Peter clattered along, happily chanting, “Follow the yellow brick road. Follow the yellow brick road.”

Ian smiled as he donned his plaid and followed the woman back to the main chamber. Fear had prompted her retreat, but she would soon realize that he was not the enemy, that the enemy lived within. Her own desire would bring her to him. 'Twas always so.

His smile widened when he emerged from the tunnel to find her trying to put pieces of the flower together.

“What did Suzy Sunshine ever do to you? I'll never get her back in one piece again.”

She cast him an accusing glare that made him laugh. His laughter surprised him. Between the Mackays, the kirk, his brothers, and his need to satisfy so many, he had found little time to laugh in recent years.

“Go ahead, laugh. See if I care. Maybe Suzy Sunshine was my only way back to my time. Now I might be stuck here forever. And if you ruined my only chance to go home, I'll make your life a living hell, Ian Ross.”

“'Tis a threat to make a strong man tremble.” He strode to her side and gently removed the pieces from her hand. “I'll make her whole again for you. Dinna fear.”
I'll make ye whole again.

“Why did you want to know how Suzy worked, anyway?” She moved to her pack and pulled out several items.

He peered to see what she held. “'Tis wise to understand all that surrounds ye. Those who do live to be old men.”

“Maybe I'm wrong here, but I get the feeling that everything's a kind of battle to you. Like it's you against the world.”

She held a brush and some sort of container. Fascinated, he watched her run the brush through her hair. She had beautiful golden hair that curled in a way that tempted him to slide his fingers through it. ‘Twas shorter than most women's hair, but a temptation to men nonetheless.

“Did you hear me, Ross?”

“Aye.” What would she do with the container? “Ye come from a safe land. Ye wouldna understand.”

“Try me.”

He would try her very soon. He would taste every part of her wondrous body. But he suspected that was not the meaning of her words. “I have battled
the Mackays for many years. Fiona is determined to have me.”

“She must love you very much.”

“Fiona loves no one. She wants only my body and the pleasure it can bring her.”

Her gaze slid over him, and his body tightened in response. Yes, he would enjoy this woman.

“Sounds like you and Fiona were meant for each other. No love, no commitment, just sex. But if you're really tired of being hunted, why don't you let her catch you, then be a real dud in bed? When you don't live up to your reputation, she'll just throw you out.” Kathy smiled, obviously pleased by her solution.

“Like yer husband did to ye, lass?”

Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed to angry slits. “What makes you think any man could throw me out?”

He shrugged. “Well, mayhap not throw ye out. 'Twould take a strong man to do such, and yer kingdom must have many weak men to allow their women to speak to them as Coco and ye do.” He watched her face flush. He was enjoying himself mightily.

“You primitive savage. Barbarian . . .”

She obviously searched for harsher words to throw at him.

“Ye need not compliment me so.” Her angry response to his teasing and things she'd said before about her husband told him much. But she must trust him more before she'd tell him all.

She took a deep steadying breath. “So why not
try my plan? Get her to throw you out?”

“Fiona would geld me first.”

“Hmm. A woman of action.”

Her words were cold, but Ian watched her swallow hard. He waited with pleasure for her next solution to his problems.

“So who else do you have to worry about?”

“The clergy. The priest who rules the kirk thinks me an abomination. He would see me dead if he could. He canna act openly because 'twould anger the people, but he can send hirelings to kill me.”

A small line of concentration formed between her eyes, and he forced himself not to reach out and smooth it away with his finger. He rarely kept himself from touching a woman, but he didn't want to distract her. Her speech was much too entertaining.

“Okay, let's move on. How about your friends? Can't they protect you? I mean, you could move down to that village, live next to a friend.” He could see the confusion in her gaze. She was as innocent as a lamb. He must guard her well.

“The Pleasure Master doesna have friends. 'Tis like the clergy, lass. I canna speak of those who come to me, trust me wi' their secrets. 'Tis not allowed. If I claimed a friend, the people would suspect I told their secrets to him. The Pleasure Master must hold himself apart, live apart from others.”

“Wow. The Pleasure Master sounds like such a great job, I can understand why you and your brothers are fighting over it. I mean, who wouldn't?”

He recognized her sarcasm, but didn't understand it. “
'Tis
a great honor. Many know about our clan because of the Pleasure Master. 'Tis a source of pride. And those who come share their wealth wi' the village.”

She frowned. “The village? Don't they pay
you?
”

It was now his turn to frown. She didn't understand the Pleasure Master at all. “I wouldna take payment for teaching others.”

“Why not? You're the one doing the work. That's the basis of good old capitalism.”

She seemed truly outraged for him. “Lass, if I took payment for what I do, 'twould make me a . . .”

“Right. It would make you a . . .” She quickly glanced away. “So what're we going to do today to help me go home?”

He smiled at her obvious change of subject. “We canna
do
anything 'til we've formed a plan, but I thought ye might go wi' me to visit Colin. I must tell him of my choice for his challenge.”

“Poor Colin,” she muttered as she raised the container she still held and sprayed a vile mist into the air around her head.

He'd leaped back before he could control himself. “God's teeth, woman, ye poison the air we breathe wi' yer noxious vapors.”

She shrugged, then smiled. Obviously, his reaction amused her. The vixen.

“Hey, it's a small price to pay for great hair.” She cocked her head and studied him. “Why don't you let me work on your hair a little? I mean, you have
wonderful hair, but I could even the ends, do a little of this and that—”

“I would rather cut off my head and offer it to the Mackays.”

“I don't think that's the part they're interested in.” She cast him a scornful glance. “Well, if you want to go around looking like Braveheart Unchained, hey, who am I to interfere?”

“What is braveheart?”

“A movie.”

“What is a—”

“Forget it.”

He did some glaring of his own now. How could he learn if she'd never explain the strange words she used? Then he allowed himself a smile. Once she was in his bed, there would be time afterward for talk. She would explain all to him then.

Kathy eyed him suspiciously. She didn't trust the way he was smiling at her—sexy, confident. “What? What're you thinking?”

“I'm thinking of ye in my bed.” He raked his fingers the length of his still-damp hair.

“It'll never happen.” But even as she said the words, her gaze followed the path of his fingers through his hair, and she wondered what it would feel like to do the same with
her
fingers, what she would feel with his bare body touching hers.

“Come, lass, 'tis a long walk to the village.” He started toward the cave entrance with Kathy tagging reluctantly behind. “'Twould be easier if I had my horse, but the Mackays took him in their last raid, and I have yet to get him back.”

“Why can't I stay in the cave? I have to figure out how to get home.” She also had a few other things to figure out. Like what she could use to replace her deodorant. And toothpaste? She'd never gone one day in her whole life without brushing. She
had
to brush. Then there was coffee. Kathy wouldn't even think about the agony of caffeine withdrawal. And kick her if she ever took a flush toilet for granted again. Her one positive thought? She had at least three weeks before she'd have to worry about dealing with . . . No, she wouldn't even go there.

He paused and glanced back. “Ye need to be seen by the villagers so they dinna imagine things about ye that are not so. Ye'll also need some proper clothing and footwear.”

She questioned his logic. Mingling with the local folk would simply reinforce their belief that she was “passing strange,” and “passing strange” was
not
a healthy thing to be in this time.

“I think I'll just stay home and talk to my toys. Besides, I won't be here long enough to need new clothes and shoes.” Even as she said the words, she realized they were a mantra she had to keep repeating to retain her sanity.

“Ye'll come wi' me if I have to carry ye.”

She didn't doubt for a minute that he'd do it, and his smile promised the experience wouldn't be all that unpleasant. “If you put it that way . . .”

Huffing angrily, she tagged after him. A clatter behind her reminded her that someone else wanted
to go. “I don't think Peter will create exactly an I'm-plain-folk-just-like-you image.”

“Canna ye make him stay here?” He sounded exasperated, but even in exasperation he looked incredibly edible. The man was a phenomenon.

Once again, Kathy walked over to Peter and picked him up. She studied him from every angle. “Nope. No off switch.”

“Mayhap I will take him apart next. I could learn how he works.”

Peter's amber lights blinked rapidly. “You've got to ask yourself one question. ‘Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?”

Kathy almost dropped the toy. Peter must be programmed with every famous movie line known to man. But how was it that his remarks always seemed to fit the situation? Peter could be downright creepy sometimes. Putting him firmly on the ground, she turned to Ian. “Do you have something to block the entrance so he can't get out?”

“Aye.” Ian sounded distracted as he stared at Peter.

“He's a toy, Ian. Just like my other toys.”

“Suzy doesna act so strange.”

Kathy couldn't help herself, she grinned. “Listen to yourself. Yesterday morning you would've run screaming from Suzy.”

He scowled at her. Uh-oh, wrong comment.

“I wouldna run from a wee flower.” His scowl softened into a smile. “But I would have wanted to. All fear what they dinna understand, the same way ye fear laying wi' me.”

“I'm not afraid of you.”
Liar.
His smile made her want to explore his tempting mouth, his unspoken promises. His eyes drew her, making her blood heat, making her forget all the ugly accusations old PMS had thrown at her, making her want to crawl inside his body. And if that wasn't scary, nothing was.

“Yer denial hasna the sound of truth in it.” His voice was a low murmur of seduction. “There is naught to fear in pleasure. I will teach ye all that is wondrous, all the feelings the body can know. And when ye return to yer land and the men ye've known, ye'll search for one who can make ye feel as I've made ye feel. If ye find him, take him as yer own forever.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I
know,
lass.” He moved close, sliding his fingers along her jaw, tracing the shape of her lower lip, lowering his head until his lips skimmed hers, a warm brush of sensuality.

His power frightened her. He was the pause at the top of the highest roller coaster. The fear of the uncontrolled plunge, and the simultaneous longing for it. Ian Ross was the danger, the power, the elemental force, and nothing in her New York life had prepared her for a man like him.