The Pleasure Master (15 page)

“I wasn't paying much attention.” And to think she'd always prided herself on telling the truth, even when telling Mrs. Jenkins that no, long blond hair did
not
make her look like Britney Spears lost her a client.

He didn't seem to think the lie worthy of a reply because he gestured toward the tub. “Ye may bathe now. Then ye must dress and come wi' me to Neil's dwelling.”

“Why can't I stay here while you visit Neil?”

“I dinna want to leave ye alone. There are dangers ye know nothing about.”

Dangers? That didn't sound comforting. But she had something more pressing to take care of. She had to get him out of the cave while she bathed. “I dropped my ring outside last night. Do you think you could look for it? It belonged to my grandmother, and I'd hate to lose it.” She tried for an inspired look. “Gee, now would be a great time to search while you're waiting for me to finish my bath.”

He frowned as he put on his plaid. “Ye had no rings on last night. There is no need to make up tales. Ye need only ask me to leave while ye bathe.”

“Well, dumb me for thinking you intended to stay and watch. Wasn't that what you said yesterday?”

His smile lit the dim interior. “Aye. But yesterday I wasna in a hurry. If I watch ye today, I willna get done what needs doing. We wouldna leave the cave at all.”

Maybe it was time to remind him of a basic fact. “Forget what you think you know about women. I don't want to be seduced. Yes, I find you physically attractive, but I have a mind. And my mind tells me that making love with you would be a mistake. So no matter how you make me feel, my mind will always override my senses. Give it up, Ross.”

“If ye say so.”

She didn't for a minute think he believed her as
he placed Malin on top of Peter and headed for the cave entrance. “Ye must come wi' me, Peter. Only women may stay.”

Peter paused, his lights flashing. “My first day as a woman and I'm already getting hot flashes!” Then he tagged after Ian.

Robin Williams?
Mrs. Doubtfire
? Kathy grinned at Peter's parting shot.

Ian sat on a rock outside the cave and thought of the woman bathing within. She'd be easing into the water now, the ripples lapping at her breasts. He'd seen enough to know her breasts would fill his hands. He longed to feel their weight, their texture. Her pale shoulders would gleam as she drew the cloth across them and down over her breasts.

Would she touch her nipples and moan softly, imagining his mouth on them? Would she slide the cloth beneath the water, dragging it across her smooth stomach, along her inner thighs, and think of his fingers tracing the same path?

God's teeth, but ‘twas a hot morning. He lifted his hair from the back of his neck, letting the cool air touch him. It wasn't much help.

He'd saved the best thought for last. Would she draw the cloth between her thighs, touching herself and imagining his fingers stroking the spot that brought her pleasure? Would she breathe his name?

“Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.”

Startled, Ian glanced at Peter, then smiled. “Ye'll
ne'er find Ian Ross wi'out a warm memory.” He turned his gaze to the cave entrance. “'Twould please me mightily to add Kathy of Hair to my memories.” Only she would never be a warm memory. He knew when they joined it would be the crackle of a hot fire, the steam from a boiling caldron. ‘Twould be a memory to heat the coldest night.

He frowned. It seemed he thought overmuch of the woman and not enough of his brothers' challenge. He must keep in mind the reason for this joining.

“She'll be dressing now, Peter, putting on layers of cloth to protect her body from me. 'Twill do no good.” He rose and walked toward the rocky path leading away from the entrance. It was always wise to make certain no Mackays were near.

“Ian Ross, I want to talk to you now!”

Turning, he hurried back to the cave entrance. What manner of beast could make her shout so? He drew his knife from his sock in readiness.

He reached the cave to find Kathy standing at the entrance with hands on hips and the gleam of battle in her eyes. Glancing around, he saw no danger.

“You don't play fair, Ross. I don't know how you did it, but you were touching me when I was taking my bath.” As her initial anger cooled, he sensed uncertainty creeping in. “I closed my eyes, and I
felt
you touch my breasts, and . . . other places.”

He knew not what to tell her. His power was such that when his response to a woman ran
strong, he could will himself into her imaginings. But he'd felt nothing that powerful for any woman since the first stirrings of his undisciplined youth.
Why now?

Mayhap Malin had been right to follow him that first day. Malin had sensed danger, and any woman who affected him so was a grave threat. The Pleasure Master must feel no emotion so strongly, not even physical need. “I dinna understand ye. I did nothing but speak wi' Peter about the coldness of winter.”

“Oh.” She shifted her gaze from him. “Well, it sure felt like someone was touching me.”

“The shock of what happened to ye has made ye imagine what isna there.”
And what is yer excuse, Ian Ross?

“Maybe.” Her expression brightened. “So why're we going to Neil's place?” She picked up her cloth bag and put its strap across her shoulder.

“What have ye in yer sack?”

He didn't miss her guilty start. “Oh, this and that. Nothing much.”

“Be verra careful to whom ye show ‘this and that'” He wanted to order her to take the sack back to the cave, but she would argue, and he had no time to waste.

They walked down the path, with Peter clattering behind. “Aren't you going to lock Peter and Malin up?”

He shook his head. “I have decided ‘twould do no good. Neil has seen Peter, as have the others.
His strangeness might prove a protection should anyone accost ye.”

“Accost me?” He saw a flicker of fear in her gaze.

“Ye must stay wi' me whene'er possible. There are those who would destroy what they dinna understand. I must leave ye for a short time, but Neil will keep ye safe.”

She nodded, but remained silent for the rest of their walk.

They'd almost reached Neil's cottage when a man stepped into their path. Malin jumped from Peter and hobbled to stand beside Ian.

Kathy's first impression was that God the Father was out taking a stroll. The stranger was a walking stereotype complete with long flowing white beard and piercing gaze.

“Ach, the very spawn of the devil I hoped to meet.” He even had the deep, booming voice she imagined God having.

She frowned. Maybe his robes were a bit over-done—green velvet trimmed in gold. Wouldn't basic black be more appropriate for an area with so much poverty? And maybe he was a little too . . . plump to be an exact replica of the Almighty. She'd never pictured God as needing to visit a fitness center.

Strange. He'd mentioned spawn of the devil and hadn't once looked at Peter.

“'Tis the good father out tending his flock of sinners, no doubt. It must have sore grieved ye to leave yer mistress's bed so early.”

She heard Ian's sarcasm and took a second look at the stranger. Father? A priest? What had happened to his vow of poverty? The rings on one hand would have paid her rent for five years. And mistress? He must have forgotten the Church vow of chastity.

The man smiled and destroyed his image. Sly and evil weren't godly expressions. “God rewards those who do His work and punishes blasphemers. Ye'll burn in Hell, Ian Ross.” The thought seemed to satisfy him.

Peter's amber lights flashed, immediately drawing everyone's attention. Kathy wanted to clap her hands over her ears.

“Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage.”

The priest's eyes widened; sly and evil gave way to good old-fashioned terror. “'Tis a demon.”

Say something.
“He's only a machine. The people who made him put those words into him. See, he's not the demon,
they
are. I'd give you their address, but I've lost my address book.”

Peter's lights flashed happily. Evidently, he felt the need to take part in the conversation. “I always like sinners a lot better than saints.”

The good father abandoned the field to the damned as he turned and fled, his robes flapping in the breeze.

Kathy stared at Peter. “
Last Man Standing
. Poor programming choice. What we needed was a more God-like quote. Maybe something from those God
movies that George Burns made. Charlton Heston would've been a nice touch.”

Ian was studying the toy with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“Ye have done what no other has e'er done. Ye made him run from ye.”

Kathy couldn't keep quiet. The priest, Peter, everything was dissolving into the kind of dream she'd have after eating a pepperoni pizza right before going to bed. “Listen to you, Ian. You're talking to a toy. Every one of his lines is from some movie, for heaven's sake. I know because I watch tons of movies, and I recognize every quote.”

Peter's lights flashed. “Incredible! One of the worst performances of my career and they never doubted it for a second.”

“See? That's from
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
.”

Ian turned his gaze on Kathy, and she shivered at what she saw there. “I've ne'er seen a movie, and I dinna know what Peter is, but he isna a toy.” His smile didn't reach his eyes. “Mayhap our priest has finally met one who canna be cowed by threats of eternal damnation.”

She wouldn't believe Ian because if she did then she'd have to fear Peter, and she didn't need one more thing to fear. “You didn't seem too afraid of the priest.”

Ian shrugged. “I have known him for twenty years. Our good Father Gregory has always condemned the Pleasure Master as a tool of Satan. He believes God has ordained that only
he
have pleasure.”

“Do the people believe him?” When she got back to New York, she'd show more appreciation for Father Deleone's kindness and gentle sermons that didn't include fire and brimstone.

“The Pleasure Master has been in this glen longer than Father Gregory. He canna turn the people against me, but that hasna stopped him from trying to find one who would kill me. He doesna care who does the killing, so long as it canna be traced back to his holy self.”

Kathy had never met evil up close and personal. This wasn't a random mugging reported on a sound byte as she drove to work.

“Father Gregory wants no competition for the ear of the laird. 'Tis not about God; 'tis about power.”

Malin returned to his resting spot on top of Peter, and they continued to Neil's. But Kathy's world had been knocked a little more out of kilter.

She cast Ian a sideways glance. He was a man who survived knowing that he faced possible death or capture each day, and accepted the possibility with courage. Survived without benefit of a close friend or one who loved him. She realized Ian Ross was the strongest man she'd ever met.

And that disturbed her. She didn't want to admit Ian was different from her ex-husband. “You mentioned the laird. Will I meet him?”

“Mayhap.” He turned up the path that led to what Kathy assumed was Neil's cottage. “He has traveled to speak wi' James, but if Henry sends his army across the border, the laird will return to
gather us to defend the king. My father travels wi' him.”

James? Henry? She should have paid more attention to her British history.

Neil met them at the door. As he led them inside, she glanced around the bare room. A table and a few chairs. A hearth. Martha Stewart could spend a lifetime trying to make this place homey. Kathy was starting to appreciate the comfort of Ian's cave.

Ian stood by the door. “I would ask ye to keep Kathy of Hair safe while I'm gone.”

Neil cast him a sharp glance. “Ye go to take back yer horse from the Mackays?”

“Aye.” He turned to leave.

“Do ye need Colin and me to go wi' ye?”

She could see the light of battle in his eyes. Still, his offer of help didn't sound like that of a man who cared nothing about his brother.

Ian shook his head. “'Tis best I go alone. One man risks less chance of discovery. I would borrow yer horse though.”

Neil nodded, and they watched Ian leave. As she turned back to Neil, Kathy tried to ignore the heavy feeling in her stomach, the feeling that she was now truly alone. Funny, no matter how upset she'd been by her sudden launch into this time, she'd always known that Ian was there. What if he didn't come back?

“He'll be okay, won't he? He'll just get his horse and ride home, right?”

Neil didn't meet her gaze. “Aye. 'Tis nothing that Ian hasna done before.”

She tried to push back the first twinges of panic with words. “I brought my cell phone so you can talk to Coco. I need to talk to her, too.”

She dug the phone from her pack and dialed Coco's number. Coco answered on the first ring.

“Okay, where are you? You haven't called for five days and I've been worried. I tried to have your last call traced and came up with zip. Talk to me, Kathy.” Coco's concern washed over her and made her feel like crying. But there was nothing she could do, absolutely nothing.

“I'm perfectly safe, Coco.”
You haven't called for five days.
“It's . . . January fifteenth?”

“All day. Guess you still aren't going to tell me what's going on.”

“There's nothing to tell. I'm with a man. I'm safe. Did you find any information?” She noted that Neil had edged close. Coco's sigh carried a world of frustration. “Wait a minute while I get it.” She heard the rustle of paper. “Okay, James the Fifth died in 1542. Mary Queen of Scots was born the same year and was proclaimed queen. Henry the Eighth was king of England. Oh, and that cat you wanted to know about. It's a Turkish Van. Associated with the Lake Van area of Turkey, loves to swim, and God knows why you wanted to know all that.”