The Pleasure Master (17 page)

Ian shrugged. “Jamie needed to speak wi' someone. I was passing by, and 'tis not a path many travel.”

Kathy felt like Mrs. Martin's bulldog with a bone. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her, and she wanted to know. “But what about the others? They didn't seem too friendly, and don't tell me it was because of Peter.”

“What if ye thought I'd lain wi' yer sister, counseled yer mother? Would ye feel comfortable speaking wi' me? What if I'd lain wi'
ye?
Would ye want others to see ye speaking wi' me, wondering?”

His bluntness was like the splash of a North Atlantic wave. “Then why do they let the Pleasure Master exist?”

The smile he turned on her was no smile at all. “The Pleasure Master brings wealth and fame to the glen. And those who come to me are desperate for help—women who have ne'er known joy of their bodies, women who wish to please their husbands, but need be taught how.”

“I remember enough of my history books to know that in this time, women didn't think they were supposed to enjoy their bodies, and men didn't care about women's pleasure.”

He frowned at her. “Did those who wrote yer books live wi' us to know all these things? There are always those who care about giving and receiving pleasure.”

“I guess there can be exceptions in any age.” She'd stopped in the middle of the path. “So why did Jamie accept you into his home?”

“Jamie is new to the glen. He has no family member who could have visited me.”

“Oh.” What more could she say? She understood men like her ex-husband, but she didn't understand a man like Ian Ross. Ian was as different from her ex as a tiger was from Jenny Clark's old orange tabby.

His chuckle was warm, amused. “Dinna look so horrified. I need only speak to many of the women who seek me out. I havena bedded all the lasses in Scotland.” His smile faded. “But the legend of the Pleasure Master is such that most wouldna believe it. Since no one knows who has visited me, all are suspicious.”

She glanced behind her. No Peter. He must've fallen behind. She'd stand a few more minutes and wait for him to catch up. “You'd have to work harder in my time. Women in 2001 are a lot more sexually aware. They know a lot more.”

“Knowing and feeling are not always the same, lass.” His warm breath fanned over her neck and she shivered.

She glanced behind her again. Where
was
Peter? The darkness closed in on her. This wasn't a New York dark, with street lights and lighted windows.
This was
dark
. And somehow, Ian Ross intensified the darkness, drew it to him, wrapped her in its blackness.

“Why do you keep doing it, if it alienates you from everyone?”

His glance was puzzled. “'Tis who I am, who I've always been. I've been trained to be Pleasure Master since I was taken from my mother.” His puzzlement gave way to warmth. “I enjoy women, and 'tis no burden helping them.”

“I bet it isn't.” Kathy had no idea why his last statement bothered her so much. “But I still say you'd have a lot rougher going in my time.”

“Mayhap.”

She couldn't read anything from his tone.

“Have ye ne'er had fantasies about men, Kathy?”

His question caught her by surprise, and she answered without thinking. “Bandits. I've always fantasized about being captured by bandits.” She'd never told
anyone
that.

He dropped the horse's reins and moved closer, so close she could feel the heat from his body, see the rise and fall of his chest beneath his plaid. “'Tis a fine fantasy.” His low murmur barely reached her.

“Hear them, Kathy. Moving toward ye in the darkness. See them closing in on ye from all sides.” His husky suggestions made her glance around.

What was that shadow beside the tree? And that scrabbling noise? Some small animal or Peter catching up?

“Feel the blood and evil they bring wi' them. Know what they want from ye.” He reached across
her shoulders and slipped off her shawl. She didn't,
couldn't,
stop him.

“There is one who wants ye more than the others. He'll kill to make ye his, as he's killed many times before.” He leaned down, a dark threatening shadow, and touched his mouth to the base of her neck. “Ye'll not deny him if ye wish to live.”

This
wasn't
real. And yet she saw them, dark bearded men, with torn and bloodied clothing, leering at her out of the night. She heard their jeering laughter, felt their hot lust, knew that only their leader held them back. Because he wanted her himself.

Logic had nothing to do with her panic as she tried to turn and run from him. But he grasped both her hands, drew close until his body touched hers, forcing her back, back, until a wall of rock stopped her. “Hey, this isn't fun. You're scaring me.”

Which wasn't completely true. Mixed with the fear was a growing excitement—fierce, wild.

“This isna about fun. This is about yer body and mine. I'll have ye here, and ye'll remember me always. When the darkness falls ye'll see me beyond yer window, and wonder what evil I'm about that night.”

“I'll fight you.” Her fear was disappearing, replaced by hot anticipation.

“Fight me till yer breath comes fast and hard, till yer heart pounds. 'Twill make no difference, but 'twill add spice to the taking.” His voice was savage,
hungry
.

She kicked at him and made contact with his leg,
heard his muttered curse, and gloried in her fight against this bandit.

Her struggle to free her hands was useless as he grasped both wrists and forced her arms above her head. He pressed his body against hers, forcing her back until she could feel every ridge in the rock wall, every muscular inch of
him.
To avoid the rock digging into her, she pushed against his body.

“Ye canna escape me, lass.”

With her arms stretched high above her head, she couldn't hit him. And as she tried to kick at him again, he shoved his knee between her legs, forcing her to spread them. Through the cloth of her dress, she could feel the strength of his thrust.

Even through her panties, she felt his knee pressing against her most sensitive spot. She clenched her thighs, riding his knee to increase the pressure. As he rubbed his knee back and forth, she felt the hot heavy feeling building. “I'll kill you for this.”

“I fear ye already have.”

She barely heard his soft response because some distant part of her mind was wondering how he'd pulled her so completely into the fantasy. But it wasn't a fantasy. He
was
a bandit, and she'd fight him until . . . “You're a dead man, you thieving—”

“I dinna think so.” He transferred both wrists to one hand and trailed a path of hot kisses down the side of her neck.

With his other hand, he deftly unlaced her dress, then roughly pulled her arms down long enough to slip the dress to her waist and pull off her bra.

She was weak with something so strong she
hadn't the strength to fight. Every sense she had seemed centered in her breasts and between her thighs. She could hear the loud rasp of her breathing. Or was it his?

Bared to the waist, she felt him pull her arms high above her head again and secure her wrists in one large hand.

“Do ye feel my men watching ye, hungering for ye, knowing that your body is for me alone?”

The cold breeze played across her breasts and her nipples hardened in response. Without conscious thought, she arched her back, begging for . . .

With a groan, he lowered his head and put his mouth on one breast, sliding his tongue across her hard nipple, then gently nipping. She almost sobbed her pleasure.

“Ye'll give me much pleasure tonight, lass.” He took her nipple into his mouth and suckled as he rolled her other nipple between two fingers, then gently squeezed.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek.

“My men draw closer. They want me to lay ye on the ground, spread yer legs, and take ye. They will draw pleasure from the watching.”

“No.”
No, don't stop. Please
.

“Aye, 'tis the way of bandits.” He abandoned her nipples. Removing his knee from between her legs, he roughly pulled her dress up to her waist, then ripped her panties from her. “Ye'll not need these.”

She didn't have the strength to close her thighs, and she knew his men were enjoying the sight of
her bared body. She made a feeble attempt to free her arms, but he tightened his grip.

“Dinna struggle, lass. I willna free ye until I've thrust hard into yer soft body, filling ye . . .” He seemed to run out of words, and she could hear his sharp intake of breath as he slid his hand between her thighs, then rubbed one finger back and forth against the spot that already felt swollen, wet, and too sensitive to touch.

She did cry out then, and didn't care whether his men or every man in the Highlands heard her.

“Aye, let my men know what they miss.”

His hand abandoned her, and she moaned her disappointment. She felt him pull up his plaid, then gasped at the hard pressure of his erection against her stomach. “I'll take ye here, wi' yer breasts bared and yer legs spread. I'll thrust hard and deep until ye scream wi' the pleasure.”

She writhed against him—wanting, needing.

“Do ye want this, lass? Want it enough to live the fantasy to its end?” His question was low, harsh.

Yes
. The word wouldn't come, she couldn't force it past her lips. She felt as though her hesitation lasted years, all the way back to the beginning of her marriage, all the way to the end of her hope.

He grew still. She could feel his breaths coming in huge gasps, felt desire shuddering through him. Slowly, as though each movement was agony, he released her. Pulling her dress down, he stepped back.

Her out-of-control senses began to right themselves.
There were no bandits. She was standing in front of Ian Ross with her breasts bared and her emotions in shreds. Desire was slow to recede, and she could still feel small anticipatory spasms.

She picked up her bra, and put it back on. When Ian moved to help her, she shook her head. With unsteady fingers, she pulled up her dress, then laced it as best she could.

Shame flooded her. “Why did you . . . ? I don't understand.”

She tried to ward him off, but he reached her in one step and pulled her into his arms. Then he just held her. “Dinna be ashamed. Ye enjoyed the fantasy. There isna shame in wanting another's body.”

Finally, her shaking stopped. She looked at his face, shadowed in the night. She didn't know this man, nor the one she'd wanted deep inside her a few minutes ago.
Still
wanted deep inside her. “What was that about?”

“That was about the power of the Pleasure Master. I am what ye want me to be, what will bring ye the most joy.”

She felt like one of the wild creatures of the Highlands. The scent of what had almost happened was still strong around them, the fight-or-flight instinct still warring within her.

“Why didn't you finish it? You would've won the challenge.”

“Aye, but it wouldna have been fair. I want no fantasy between us when we join. I dinna want ye able to find an excuse to fool yerself wi'.” His
wicked smile flashed white in the darkness. “Do ye still feel ye canna have yer orgasm?”

She just looked at him. No answer was necessary. “Is that all?”

He shook his head. “Do ye still think I'd have no value in yer time, that women in 2001 know more?”

Kathy hadn't believed in the power of the Pleasure Master, but who could deny his vivid demonstration?

She turned from him. “You'd have value in any time.”
But not to me.
Yes, he could make her respond, but it was just another form of manipulation, and she'd had lots of experience with manipulation.

He said nothing more as he turned and continued toward the cave, leaving Kathy to follow.

Kathy started to go after him, then paused as she heard a familiar clatter behind her. Great. Her two feet of shiny movie quotes had caught up. “What-ever you're going to say, Peter, don't. I'm not in the mood.” The silence encouraged her. “Okay, so it might've been wonderful, but there's always a morning after the wonderful.”

She turned her head enough to see Peter's flashing amber lights. Uh-oh, he wasn't going to stay quiet. You'd think carrying a fat cat all the way from the village would have sapped some of the zap from his smart mouth.

“I'd rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.”

“Shelly in
Steel Magnolias
. Think you're smart, don't you?”

Peter's lights flashed agreement. “Bill Gates wants my brain.”

Approaching the cave entrance, he scanned the surrounding area, searching for signs of intrusion. There were none. He'd hoped the Mackays would be waiting, for he felt the need to crack some heads.

He could hear Kathy behind him, but she said nothing. Did she realize how close she'd come to completing her fantasy whether she wished it or not?

Striding down the tunnel, he paused before entering the main chamber. He must live with this woman until he seduced her.
Seduced,
not tricked into passion using a favorite fantasy. Then he would find a way to send her home. 'Twould not be as simple, though, as he'd thought in the beginning.

“Is everything okay?” She spoke from behind
him, but not too close. She'd learned caution with him.

“Aye. I was but checking that none had been here in our absence.”

He walked into the room and lit several candles from the glowing embers of the hearth fire. She followed him and put her things near her bed, then picked up the nightgown Mary had given her. “I'll be back in a few minutes.” She disappeared down the tunnel to the pool.

“I loooove you.” Suzy Sunshine blinked her eyes, waved her leaves, and wiggled her stem in greeting.