The Pleasure Master (22 page)

What about Ian?
No problem. She just wouldn't let him get close to her.
Reality check.
He'd gotten pretty darn close already, and no matter how much she denied it, she'd miss him.

She closed her mind to further conjecture about life without Ian. After that ride on a glorified pogo stick to and from the beach, her brain still felt scrambled.

“I loooove you.”

Kathy sighed. Yep, they were back safe and snug in their comfy cave. Okay, so she was being unfair because she hurt so much. The tapestries and rugs covering the stone floor and walls were beautiful. The pillows lent a decadent opulence to the room, and the fire was cozy. It was just so
foreign
to her.

She glanced at Ian. He'd put his sword down and stripped off his plaid. His shirt clung to his torso, and his strong thighs and legs glowed golden in the firelight. Decadent pretty much described him, too. He belonged on that bed hidden in the other room.
She wanted to see him stretched naked on it, his bared body framed by the writhing snakes and crimson hangings. A memory to warm even the coldest New York night.

The ringing of her cell phone shut down further hot thoughts for cold nights. She shuffled to where she'd left it sitting on a stone ledge.

“Why did ye leave yer phone here?” Ian walked to a carved chest placed beside his bed.

“I thought maybe Neil might want to talk to Coco.” She lowered her abused bottom onto a large pillow.

He turned from rooting through the chest. “Ye would help Neil win?”

She couldn't read his emotion from his voice or expression. No use worrying about it now. She pressed the talk button.

“Where've you been, Kathy? Neil called and said you'd gone off somewhere with his brother, old hunky-and-hopefully-horny Ian. Why didn't you take your phone?” Coco didn't sound overly upset. “Oh, and the date is January thirty-first.”

“Ian and I went to the beach, and I didn't take the phone because I was afraid I'd drop it.”

There was a meaningful pause. “How'd you get to the beach?”

“Horse.”

“Sure.” Coco chuckled. “Talk about living the fantasy.”

“What would I have to do to make you believe me, Coco?”

Coco didn't answer for so long that Kathy almost thought the connection had been broken. “I asked Neil what year it was when he called today. He told me the same thing you did.” Again there was silence, and when Coco did speak there was a note of desperation in her voice. “I can't believe it, Kathy. My whole career has been built on coming to decisions based on hard evidence. Your cell phone is still working. Believing that you could call me from 1542 is too much to swallow. Asking me to
believe you've
traveled
back in time is asking too much. I'm scared for you, girlfriend, but there's not a damn thing I can do if you won't tell me the truth.”

“Right. The truth.” If the smartest person she knew wouldn't believe her, who would?
Someone who really trusts you.
“So how are you and Neil getting along?” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Ian had stopped to listen.

“I like him, Kathy.”

The softness in Coco's voice surprised Kathy. Coco could be hard, cutting, and funny, but never soft.

“He makes me feel like a woman. He doesn't seem intimidated by what I am or what I say. He's funny, gallant, and sounds sexy as hell. And he's all protective male. I never thought I'd like that in a man.” Coco hesitated. “He asked if I'd sleep with him. I think I'm going to say yes.”

Oh, no! Ian would lose.
So why do you care?
She'd be partly to blame. She could have tried to be a little more seduceable.
Ian could have tried to seduce a little harder.

“That's wonderful, Coco. Once you get past that big wart on Neil's nose, he's a great guy.”

“Wart?”

“I bet surgery could cure his snoring problem. If not, they put out some super earplugs nowadays.”

“Snoring?”

“His drooling won't bother you because you already have a big drooly dog, and you love him. So Neil sounds perfect for you.” Kathy almost hated
herself for what she was saying about Neil.
Almost.

“I'll keep that in mind.” Coco didn't sound convinced. “Stay in touch. Oh, and don't forget, your parents will be back in a few days. They'll probably buzz you.”

Her parents.
What in God's name could she tell them? She shut off the power. No way did she want anyone else calling her. She'd been lucky no one from work had called, and none of her friends . . .
Why haven't any of them called?

Her heart pounded as she glanced at Peter. Could someone or something be allowing only chosen calls to reach her? Why couldn't she have been flung into the past the conventional way, by a bolt of lightning? A bolt of lightning was random, impersonal. The thought of some monstrous power controlling her, even deciding who spoke to her, scared the hell out of Kathy.

Calm down. That's ridiculous. There was no need to control who spoke to her because no one would believe her anyway.

“Monstrous power?” She glanced again at Peter. “Nah.”

Peter's lights flashed happily. “How do you know that my dimwitted inexperience isn't merely a subtle form of manipulation, used to lower people's expectations, thereby enhancing my ability to effectively maneuver within any given situation?”

Kathy grinned. Would a malevolent power be able to make her smile?

Thoughts of Peter vanished at the exact moment she sensed Ian behind her. He'd moved silently; still
she
knew
he stood close, felt his soft breathing, could almost hear his heart beat. Were all women so attuned to him? Did they feel the air shift and grow thick, so thick they had to breathe harder, faster?

“Why did ye tell Coco those things about Neil?” He ran his finger across the back of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“Neil asked her to have sex with him, and she was thinking about agreeing. I didn't want Neil to win.”

“Ye dinna wish me to seduce ye, so I canna win either.” He kissed the back of her neck, leaving his lips pressed to her skin long enough for her to believe the brand would remain there always. “That means only Colin can win, and Colin wouldna make a verra good Pleasure Master.”

“It's complicated. I want . . .” What did she want? “When you were playing a bandit I thought I would die if you didn't make love to me, but it wasn't real.”

“I dinna make
love
wi' anyone, and I wouldna say ye're a fine one to judge what is real when ye believe that ye come from a future time.”

She'd had just about enough of people not believing her. She turned to face him. “You're purposely refusing to believe what's right in front of your face. How else do you explain my phone, Peter, and all the other toys? And how did I get here?”

She gazed into eyes so silver she almost believed she could see her own dark demons mirrored in them.

“I believe ye came from a distant land by some strange magic.”

She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don't get it. You believe in magic, but you don't believe in time travel.”

Her anger seemed to amuse him, because his lips tilted up in a smile that made her lose her train of thought for a moment.

“Many believe in magic and witches who cast dark spells, but I dinna know any who believe in traveling through time.”

“Okay, go ahead, don't believe me. See if I care.” She sounded sulky, immature, and she was afraid she was about to humiliate herself by crying.

He drew her into his arms and held her tightly. Once again she felt as if she could melt into him, become part of his body.

“I didna mean to make ye angry.” His breath warmed the side of her cheek. “I thank ye for trying to help me. Most wouldna choose to aid me because they believe the Pleasure Master needs no help.”

Kathy didn't know what to say to that, so she just nodded. How could one man be so alone? She'd had a loving family and friends. His kind of aloneness was beyond her imagination.

“What would ye have from me, Kathy of Hair? I willna trick ye as I did when I used yer fantasy against ye, but I canna tarry overlong. I would have ye come to me freely so I may end this challenge. Ye willna regret joining wi' me.” He paused, and she allowed the steady beat of his heart to lull her.
“After 'tis done, I will help ye return to yer land.”

Tempting. So tempting.
All she'd have to do was murmur a yes, and he'd make love to her. And she
would
enjoy it. She no longer had any doubts about that. She'd just lie back and . . .

Just relax and enjoy it.
How many nights had her husband made that demand? And like a dutiful wife, she'd tried.

“Ian, I want . . . caring, some sort of connection, not just the joining of two bodies for a moment of physical pleasure.” There it was. Simple . . . and impossible for Ian to grant. The Pleasure Master wasn't about caring and connections. Besides, Ian Ross's caring wouldn't do her any good back in New York.

She felt his sharp exhalation.

“'Tis something I canna give ye, lass. Ye ask too much.” He released her and returned to the chest. “Ready yerself for sleep, and then I'll rub salve between yer legs to ease yer pain.”

“Rub salve
where?”

He turned to grin at her. “Ye've been walking as though ye still ride the horse, so I would guess ye hurt mightily. Mary gave me a salve that takes away pain.”

“I can rub the salve anyplace it's needed.”

“I dinna doubt that, but I can make it more pleasurable.” The challenge was in his eyes, hot and demanding. “Do ye fear what I'll make ye feel? Do ye fear ye willna be able to stop?”

“Fine. Put the salve wherever you want.” Had those words come from her mouth? Was she crazy,
walking into the heart of the fire without an asbestos suit?
You want it, Bartlett, so don't be such a wuss.
Maybe she'd just let it happen, forget all her jabbering about caring and connections.

She argued both sides of the case all the way to the pool, where she washed the smell of horse from her and changed into her nightgown, then argued all the way back.

Entering the chamber, she thought for a moment everyone had gone. Peter and Malin were nowhere in sight. Then she saw Ian. He'd come from the tunnel, and he had on nothing but a cloth, wrapped around his waist. His skin gleamed damply in the hearth's light.

“You went outside?” It was
cold
out there.

“Aye. There's a small spring by the cave entrance. I went there.” His lips lifted in a smile. “There are times when the cold is needed.”

Kathy didn't respond to his insinuation. She felt uncomfortable,
stalked.
“Look, I really don't think I need any salve. I'll just take a few of my Advil and—”

He frowned. “What are advil?” He sat on her furs, then patted a spot beside him.

“They're medicine that takes away pain.” This was ridiculous. She could simply say no if he did anything she didn't want. Resolutely, she sat down beside him.

“Ye willna need these advil tonight.” She saw the small container of salve he'd set beside him, watched as he opened it and scooped out a creamy
mixture with his fingers. “Lie back, and I'll take yer pain away.”

She'd bet he would. She blinked, her only admission that a battle raged in her. The forces of caution raised their banner, red with the words “Men and cars can never be trusted.” On the opposite side, the forces of wild abandon took a slightly less rigid stand with a green banner that read, “Catch the wave and ride it.”

The decision was taken out of her hands as Ian firmly pushed her back on the furs, then slid her nightgown to the top of her hips.
No-panties alert!
She instinctively reached to push it back down. “Now just wait a minute. I don't remember agreeing to—”

He placed his free hand over hers. “Shh. Ye blather too much. If ye dinna feel the salve helps yer pain, ye need only say so.”

He sounded so reasonable, and what he said was true. Maybe he only intended to put the salve on her legs, then leave her alone. Right. And maybe the sun would be purple tomorrow.

But what harm could there be in enjoying his touch? If things started to get out of hand, she could just call a halt. She trusted him enough to know he wouldn't do anything she didn't want.

Not waiting for her final decision, he eased her legs apart and smoothed the salve along the insides of her thighs. She almost gasped at the cool touch of the cream, the hot touch of his fingers.

Then he rubbed in the salve. She bit her lip so she wouldn't make any sounds of pleasure. The
salve turned to liquid heat beneath Ian's fingers, and as he kneaded her abused muscles, her pain receded, to be replaced by a totally different pain, in a totally different area.

She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the rhythm of his hands, didn't object when he slid his free hand under her nightgown and laid his palm flat on her stomach. The weight and warmth of his hand was comforting, felt
right.

Kathy sensed him leaning farther over her, and she drew in her breath as he brushed his hand higher on her stomach until his fingers rested beneath her breast.

She felt air flow across her stomach, her breasts, and knew he'd pushed her nightgown even higher, but had no memory of raising her hips. It was bunched beneath her upper back, arching her back so her breasts were thrust upward, an offering he obviously couldn't resist.

He groaned low in his throat, then cupped her breast in his large hand, rubbing the pad of his callused thumb across her nipple.

She pushed against his thumb, every sensitized nerve-ending screaming for more. And when he replaced his thumb with his mouth, she knew there could be nothing more . . . until he flicked the nipple with his tongue, then slid the edge of his front teeth across the tip.