The Pleasure Master (30 page)

“Got it. You need to speed things up.” Thank heavens she'd read all those magazines when she was trying to find the key to the great orgasm. Unfortunately, she'd have to give body-specific directions here. Leaning close, she told all.

When she'd finished, the woman's face was bright red, and Kathy could feel the heat flushing her own face. She probably had a neon-red glow. “That should do it, but in case it doesn't, you'll need to spend your waiting time in a meaningful way.” She reached into her backpack. “Here's a bottle of Dark Passion nail polish. Put on two coats and let both coats dry. Your man should be done by then.”

The woman looked a little dazed as she left, holding the nail polish. Kathy smiled. Now on to the rest of the line.

A half hour later she'd worked her way up to the dreaded Maeve. She'd kept one eye on the woman while she doled out advice just in case the line began
to move. In which case she would have taken emergency action.

Maeve gave her no time to make her pitch. “Ye willna get rid of me so easily.” Her gaze defied Kathy to try. “When the Pleasure Master comes forth,
I
will have his body first.”

There would be no body-having while Kathy Bartlett was on-site. “Hey, don't get your panties in a bunch.”

“Panties?”

“Never mind.” Kathy sighed. “You can wait for the Pleasure Master until you take root for all I care.” She slid a considering glance over Maeve. “Of course, it's a shame you can't go to him looking a little more . . . desirable.”

“I dinna ken what ye mean.”

“Okay, let's look at the big picture. All those other women just wanted to talk to the Pleasure Master. You want some body contact. Right?” ”

Maeve slanted her a sly smile. “Aye.”

“Well, you look like hell, girlfriend. If you want the Pleasure Master to show some up-close-and-personal interest in you, you'd better do something about . . . your hair.”

Maeve frowned. “What is wrong wi' my hair?”

“Split ends, sister. Your hair looks like your family tree, ends branching out in every direction. Why don't you let me do a little snipping and shaping? Hey, a man appreciates good hair on a woman.”
Stall.
While she was snipping and shaping, maybe she could think of some way to get rid of Maeve without the embarrassment of a down-and-dirty
hair-pulling fest. Kathy always did her best thinking when she was creating great hair.

“Mayhap ye're right.”

“Sure I am.” Reaching into her backpack, Kathy pulled out the basic hair supplies she always carried with her.

A few minutes later, she was into the flow. She knew hair. It gave her a calming sense of certainty.

“I dinna understand why ye're cutting my hair when ye could be lying wi' the Pleasure Master.” Maeve's voice was slyly suggestive. “Mayhap he doesna want ye. 'Twould be truly hard to live wi' him and not sample his body.”

Never mess with a hair stylist who has scissors in her hand.
Kathy grabbed a large chunk of lank hair from the back of Maeve's head. She readied her scissors. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the hairstylist's code: Never be the cause of a bad hair day.

A sudden flash of amber lights announced Peter's presence and desire to join in the conversation. “I can assure you that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair.”

Maeve screeched and jumped. Kathy's hand slipped. And the huge chunk of Maeve's hair fell to the ground. Maeve turned to stare at it in horror.

Kathy stared, too. “Gee, I guess that takes care of those nasty old split ends.”

Maeve shifted her horrified gaze to Peter, who was sidling closer, then back to her shorn locks. With one more expressive shriek, she fled.

Kathy pulled a small plastic bottle from her pack.
“Sure you don't want to take this conditioner sample with you?” she shouted after Maeve's fast disappearing figure.

Kathy turned to Peter. “Guess not. And here I was counting on a great tip from her. Win some, lose some.”

She drew in a deep breath. Now for the tough stuff. She had a date with a man and a bed.

Ian stood with his back to the cave entrance, staring into the fire. All was quiet without. Had the women gone? Would they return to their villages to spread the tale that the Pleasure Master would see no one? And why didn't he care more?

The lethargy, the unwillingness to perform his duty whispered that it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

He noted without interest the sound of footsteps coming toward him from the tunnel. One of the women must have worked up the courage to enter his lair. She would be rewarded by being sent away.

The footsteps paused behind him. Silence.

Ian exhaled sharply. He'd always hated lies, excuses meant to escape that which was unpleasant. All the same, he lied. “I canna help ye or any of the
others today. I am not well. I have a . . . headache.”

“I think that's my line, Ross.”

He felt Kathy's amusement touch him with playful fingers that ignited a joy out of all proportion to her words. He turned.

“They're gone, Ian.” Her gaze was soft, tentative.

He moved closer, reached out to slide his fingers through her hair. When he was old and bent he'd still hold the memory of her scent—elusive and tempting with the promise of a world he'd never know.

She offered him a cautious smile. “Hope you don't mind my handing out advice to those women. I just used a little common sense. No personal experience, you understand, but I've read a lot. Sorry, but I couldn't help Maeve. She sort of left before I could get a handle on her problem. And somebody stop my babbling mouth.”

He stopped her babbling mouth. Lowering his head, he covered her lips with his. He forced his hands to remain at his sides no matter how badly he longed to wrap his arms around her, hold her captive to his need. He wanted nothing other than her desire to keep her with him—neither physical restraint nor the power of the Pleasure Master.

With a quiet moan, she slid her fingers across his stomach, then put her arms around him.

He felt a surge of triumph that lasted but a moment. Was she choosing
him
or the remembered joy she knew the Pleasure Master could bring?

Ian tried to drive away his doubt with the pressure of her body, the glide of her tongue across his
lips, then the building excitement as he explored her mouth, his tongue tasting hers, her heat matching his.

When she molded her palms to his buttocks and pulled him more tightly against her, he groaned into her mouth and enfolded her with arms that shook. Lifting her off her feet, he thrust between her thighs, and was rewarded when she wrapped her legs around his hips, then pressed down on his arousal. He could have her now. He could shove aside the layers of cloth separating them and plunge deep into her body. And even as he eased the desire that seemed to have been building from the first moment he saw her, he'd give her pleasure that would wipe away the memory of all she'd suffered at her husband's hands.

Pleasure.
Just as the cloth separated them, so did the title of Pleasure Master. Ian had a need he didn't fully understand to know that Kathy made love only to Ian Ross, not the Pleasure Master. When had that ever mattered? And were they even two different men?

Beyond the taste, the scent, the feel of her, and beyond his heart-pounding need to bury himself in her body, he knew that for the first time in his life it was important that a woman make love to Ian Ross, the man, and not the legend.

He stepped away from her, creating a space filled with unanswered questions and unfulfilled desires. Kathy gazed at him across the space.

“I want you, Ian. I know women say that to you on a daily basis, but it's a new line for me. I've never
said it to another man.” She took a step into the space he'd created.

“And which man are ye saying it to now, lass?”

“Did I miss something? I only see one man here.”

Ian watched her clench her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Kathy wasn't as calm as she pretended. He wanted to uncurl her fingers, smooth away the nail marks in her skin with his tongue, and tell her how much he wanted her. Tell her the lack wasn't in her, it was in him.

“And is that one man the Pleasure Master?”

Her gaze narrowed. “That man is Ian Ross. The man who took in a very strange woman, even though she said she was from another time. The man who held her when she cried for her world. The man who put up with a bunch of odd toys and protected her from his own people. The man who
cared
for her.” She offered him a wry smile. “Even when he found out she wasn't Kathy, Princess of Hair.”

The sound of her phone stopped his reply.

Never letting her gaze wander from his face, she lifted the phone from where it rested beside Suzy.

Intent on his own thoughts, he paid little attention to what Kathy was saying. She was speaking to Coco, and he watched as she pulled a strange writing implement and a piece of paper from her purse.

As she wrote down whatever information Coco was giving her, Ian thought about what would happen once Kathy ended her call. He'd always prided himself on being a reasonable man, but his growing
determination that Kathy would
not
make love to the Pleasure Master made no sense. The Pleasure Master was his whole life, who he was. Why would he think that making love with this woman was more important?

The truth smote him with no warning. He no longer wished to bed faceless women, those many who'd need him until he could offer them nothing more. He no longer wanted to be alone, and the Pleasure Master would always need to be alone. He'd never recognized his loneliness until Kathy.

He didn't think. He reacted. “I would speak wi' Coco.”

Kathy cast him a puzzled glance, then handed the phone to him.

“Coco, this is Ian. I would hear from yer own lips whether ye would join wi' Neil were he wi' ye at this moment.”

He listened to Coco's reply, refusing to heed the ancient voices of past Pleasure Masters whispering that he was throwing all away. Refusing to question why he was doing so. Refusing to ask what he would do for the rest of his life. The rest of his life once Kathy had gone.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes against Coco's answer. ‘Twas done. The words had been spoken, and he could never go back to what he'd been. There was but one thing necessary to complete it. “Would ye say those same words to Kathy?”

Kathy backed away from him, her eyes wide.
“No. I won't listen. I won't let you do this to yourself.”

“I dinna do this to myself. I do this
for
myself. Since the moment my father wrested me from my mother's arms, I have lived for the pleasure of others. I willna say I didna enjoy it, but I dinna enjoy it now. I havena enjoyed it since ye came to me.” He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “I willna e'er enjoy it again.”

“I . . . I don't understand.” But the dawning glow in her eyes said she did understand.

“Speak to Coco, Kathy.” He shoved the phone at her.

Hesitantly, she took it from him. “Coco?”

Coco must have heard what they'd said, because Kathy listened silently, then put the phone away without one more word.

When she finally turned to him, tears flooded her eyes. “Well, Ian Ross, you got your wish. Neil is the new Pleasure Master.” The tears now slid unchecked down her face. “Why, Ian? Just tell me why?”

He closed the distance between them in one stride, but he didn't try to touch her. She must understand, or what he'd done would have no meaning. “Every woman who e'er came to me knew me as Pleasure Master, expected to feel what others had told them they would feel wi' me. I have often wondered whether they gained satisfaction from me because they
expected
it would be so, thought no one could resist me and so they didna try.” Ian exhaled sharply. He confused even himself. “I
dinna think they even saw
me
, only the man who was Pleasure Master. Any man bearing the name would have done as well.”

Kathy's gaze grew fierce. “That's not true. I always saw
you.
”

He finally touched her. Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, allowed his fingers to linger, then dropped his hand to his side again. “Are ye sure?” He knew his smile was bitter. “'Twas not Ian Ross ye almost joined wi' on the night the bandit chief captured ye. And 'twas not Ian Ross, but a helpless enemy ye hungered after as ye watched me in the cottage wi' Fiona.” He voiced his deepest doubt. “'Twas the fantasy ye desired, ne'er the one who created it. Since I reached twelve years of age, it has always been the fantasy women hungered after.”

Kathy couldn't stop her tears, no matter how madly she blinked. “That's not true. The fantasies always worked because
you
were the fantasy man. How can I make you see that?”

She saw the answer in his gaze and experienced a moment of fierce anticipation. As crazy as it sounded, Kathy knew she'd crossed the time barrier to find the one man who could tear down the wall she'd built around her heart.

“When darkness falls, I'll wait for ye. And there will be no Pleasure Master between us.”

She drew in a deep breath. “There won't be any fantasies either, Ian. You'll never again be able to claim I made love to a fantasy.”

He nodded. “No fantasies.”

There was only one thing left. “I want us to make love on the Pleasure Master's bed. It was made for love, Ian, and no lovers have lain on it for almost a hundred years.”

She watched his lips curve in a faint smile and shivered at the thought of those lips on her body.

“Ye make it sound like a living thing.”

She glanced toward the room where the bed and its memories waited. “Maybe it is.”