The Pleasure Master (31 page)

His gaze followed hers. “Mayhap ye're right. The bed didna call to my grandfather or father. It didna call to me.” He drew in a deep breath. “It calls to me now because I'll lie upon it wi' ye.” He smiled. “'Twould seem the bed chooses carefully those who use it.”

I'll bed the lass I love on it.
The words he'd spoken when she'd first seen the bed hung between them. Did he remember?

He started to turn away, then paused. “I would protect ye from having a bairn.”

I would not.
“All taken care of. I have something for birth prevention.” Pills she'd stopped taking after breaking up with old PMS because she
knew
she'd never want to get close to another man. Pills that at this very moment rested happily in her medicine cabinet. She wouldn't pass up any chance that she might take a part of Ian home with her.

“'Tis amazing. The people of yer land have thought of all things.”

All things except how to bring home the most wonderful man I've ever known.
“My
time
, Ian.
When are you going to admit that I've come from a future time?”

He didn't speak, but she saw his answer in his gaze.

“You still don't believe me, do you? You'd give up being Pleasure Master before you'd give your trust.” The revelation shocked her.

He nodded, his glance touching hers with regret. “I canna give that which I dinna have to give. Mayhap 'tis because I've watched so many believe the fantasies I've created and known the fantasies werena real.” His gaze turned hard. “Mayhap 'tis because I've known the lies people tell themselves and others.” He shrugged, then smiled. “To trust another would be to put the last piece of myself into their hands. And I dinna understand why ye find it so strange that I'm loath to do such. Didna yer husband betray yer trust?”

He was right. What had happened to her women-who-trust-men-are-too-stupid-to-live attitude? It was gone. She would trust Ian Ross with her life,
and her love.
No, she wouldn't go there. Kathy shifted her thoughts quickly away from possibilities that would hurt like hell if, no
when,
she returned to New York. Alone. Because she'd be selfish to ask Ian to abandon the world he knew, especially since he didn't love her.

So why don't you stay?
She could never live here, would never do that to her parents. And the way people reacted to her, she would always be a danger to Ian. No,
nothing
could make her stay.

She sighed. “You're right.”

He didn't look particularly happy with his victory as he turned and left the cave. Kathy wandered over to where Suzy guarded her shell necklace. When she went home, the necklace was one memory she wouldn't leave behind. She had a feeling it would haunt her every day for the rest of her life.

“I loooove you.”

Kathy smiled. “Easy for you to say, Suzy.”

By dim candlelight, Kathy studied the movie quotes Coco had given her that afternoon. Only three. Coco had sifted through the most likely ones and come up with what she thought were the most powerful. The neglected corner of her mind that housed her remaining honesty admitted she wished that Coco had given her hundreds. That way she could take a long, long time to go through all of them.
But time is the one thing you don't have much of.

Carefully, Kathy placed the quotes beside her shell necklace and Suzy. Neat and tidy. The necklace to give her courage, a quote to send her home, and Suzy to offer her a loving goodbye.

But not tonight. Tonight Ian waited for her.

She smoothed unsteady fingers over her skirt. Tonight would be a night of honesty, so she had put on her New York clothes. Ian might want to deny she came from the future, but tonight she'd face him as herself, as a woman of the twenty-first century.

Of course, while she faced him as a bold woman of the future, she wished her underwear wasn't thumbing its nose at the “bold” concept. She
longed to whip off her skirt and blouse and reveal deliciously daring bits of Victoria's Secret masterpieces. Unfortunately, after old PMS had done his thing, she'd traded in her skimpy red lace for white cotton. Not the statement she wanted to make tonight. White cotton would be a yawn for Ian after dealing with women who didn't know the meaning of underwear.

Fine. So she'd cope. Drawing a deep breath, she checked to make sure Peter was in his down mode, then walked toward the entrance with what she hoped would look like serene confidence.

She remained serene and confident until she reached the doorway. Three candles set in different parts of the room cast a dim glow, their flickering flames creating a sensual dance of light and dark on the rough stone walls, leaving the bed and the man who lay on it in a circle of shadowed silence.

Her heart pounded in the silence, and she thought each beat must be imitating the uncertain rhythm of the flames' dance, echoing off the ageless stone, shouting her panic.

She took a step forward and stopped. And breathed. She didn't seem able to breathe and move at the same time.

The bed creaked as Ian pushed himself to a sitting position and propped his shoulders against the headboard. To Kathy's ears, the creak seemed like a sigh of relief. Finally, the bed would know love again.

“Come to me.”

His husky command brought her full circle. It
felt like a lifetime ago that he'd said those same words to her. Had it really only been . . . ? She didn't remember and she didn't care. Time had no power in this room, on this night. Kathy didn't fear that anyone or anything would send her home tonight. They wouldn't dare. She wouldn't allow it.

She wondered at her courage, and knew who was responsible. She'd dare the devil himself for Ian Ross. Of course, she sort of hoped the devil wasn't tuned in to her defiance. He probably had worse things to do.

While she was occupied daring the devil, her feet took her closer to Ian.

For the first time, she saw him clearly. Maybe the devil wasn't busy tonight. Maybe he was watching her with gleaming silver eyes as he lounged against a headboard decorated with paintings that celebrated lust, passion, and past erotic joys. She swallowed hard.

He leaned his head against the bed and slanted her a wicked grin. “Ye dinna seem overly bold tonight, lass.”

No kidding. “I thought I'd try for maidenly tonight.”

His gaze slid the length of her, stripping her right down to her white cotton panties. “I like ye well as a bold woman. Dinna change.”

Okay, she could do bold. Eventually. Right now she'd work on semi-bold. She didn't slide her gaze over him. She studied him in hummingbird fashion—hover, savor, move on. Spot checks were all her heart could stand right now.

The golden gleam of the bed and the scarlet shimmer of the silk proved a dramatic contrast to the darkness of the man. Not a cold light-absorbing darkness, but a warm darkness that radiated all that was sexual. A darkness that drew her, promised her total fulfillment in the heat of his body, the touch of his hands, his lips.

No matter what name he called himself, Kathy knew he would always be the Pleasure Master for her.

Kathy reached the foot of the bed and grasped the bedpost to steady her nervous progress. The rest of her might still be engaged in mental hand-wringing over the uncertainty of what would happen next, but at least her gaze had found some courage.

She'd seen his muscled chest before, his flat stomach, strong thighs and legs. She'd even seen his impressive erection. But tonight he looked different. Except for the scarlet silk he'd draped across his hips, he was the same man she'd seen in the cottage with Fiona. Then what . . . ?

The bed.
It welcomed the true Pleasure Master, wrapped him in rightness, proclaimed him able to search a woman's heart, smooth away love's cuts and abrasions, and give it back to her whole again. His power had never been just his ability to touch a woman's body in the right places, but to touch her soul.

Kathy sighed. Heavy stuff for what was supposed to be a night of fun. No, fun would never be a strong enough word for what she suspected she'd experience with Ian.

“Ye'll need to move yer hand from the post if ye expect to use it for a more worthy cause than keeping ye upright.” His voice was soft, teasing,
inviting.

Challenged, she released her any-port-in-a-storm lifeline and stepped to his side. “And what would you consider a more worthy cause, Ian Ross?”

“There are many, lass.” He leaned forward and patted the bed beside him.

Gingerly, she sat down, almost afraid the passion played out on this bed by the man and woman pictured on its panels would reach out and claim her before she was ready.
Who're you kidding, Bartlett? You've been ready since the first moment you saw Ian Ross.

“Ye may use yer hands to remove yer clothing.” He tilted his head, thinking. “But I dinna believe so. I would remove yer clothing myself.”

“Talking about clothes . . .” She glanced pointedly at the silken slash across his hips. “Why bother when I've seen everything?”

His smile was all things sensual and secret. “Ye've seen nothing, lass. And ye've yet to learn that ‘tis the anticipation that makes the lovemaking memorable.”

She returned his smile in kind. “Oh, I've been anticipating for a long time, Ian.”

“Still, ye're a wee bit nervous.”

She wasn't prepared when he sat up, spread his legs, and pulled her back to rest against his chest. The silk was gone.

“Uh, a little.” His body heat seeped through her
blouse, warming her, quieting the warning voices all too ready to point out that she'd
never
had an orgasm with any man, so why should this be any different? Sure, she'd worked herself into a frenzy during Ian's fantasies, but this wasn't a fantasy.

“Ye worry overmuch about things that may ne'er happen.” His breath fanned the back of her neck a moment before his lips touched her skin. Goose bumps trailed from the point of contact and traveled south.

“That's what I'm afraid of.” She dropped her head forward to give him easier access.

“Ah, ye fear ye willna know an orgasm wi' me.” Wrapping his arms around her, he carefully undid each button on her blouse, then slipped the garment off.

“Sort of.” She smiled as he fumbled with the front clasp of her bra and breathed soft puffs of annoyance that heated the side of her neck.

“Ye will, ye ken.” He murmured his triumph as the bra fell away from her. “Yer land may have many wondrous things, but it also creates much that is useless.”

“You mean the clasp?” The cool air moving over her nipples hardened them and served as a reality check. This was really happening.

“I mean the cloth.” His hand cupped her breast while he rubbed the pad of his thumb across her nipple.

She shivered at the sensitivity that spread like sparks from a bare wire to every part of her body.

“Are ye chilled?” His lips touched her shoulder
while he drew a finger the length of her spine.

“No.”
Never with you.

She felt the glide of his hair as he lowered his head to study the zipper on her skirt. Her imagination supplied other places his hair could touch, and she drew in her breath.

He carefully pulled down the zipper, then pulled it back up. After several up and down forays, Kathy grew impatient.

“Hello? Have I lost you to a zipper?” Darn. She must sound like every greedy woman who'd ever lain with him.

His soft chuckle reassured her. “'Tis a long night, lass, and the waiting willna hurt ye. These metal teeth are wondrous things.”

“Right.” She wondered whether he knew how close she was to pouncing and having her way with him. “Wondrous things.”

He lowered the zipper once more and this time he didn't pull it back up. “But there are other wondrous things.” His whisper enticed even as his hands slid the skirt down over her hips. “A woman's body holds more fascination than all the wonders ye could e'er imagine.”

Kathy's whole body felt flushed even as she shifted her hips so he could push her skirt down. The skirt fell to the floor and she kicked it away while Ian now discovered the wonders of elastic. He pulled the elastic out, then let it snap back.

“'Tis amazing, but I dinna have any more patience left to admire such as this. 'Twould have been more tempting if there were less cloth
here
.”
He bent down, pulled the elastic away from her body, then slid his tongue across the top of her buttocks. “And
here.”
He slipped his fingers under the waistband, circled her waist, then splayed his hand between her legs.

Always accommodating, Kathy spread her thighs wider and breathed deeply, trying to slow her galloping heart rate.

“I would have chosen a different color also.” With one finger, he easily found the spot guaranteed to end any fears Kathy might have of not enjoying complete fulfillment with him. “White isna a warm color, and ye're a warm and exciting woman. Ye deserve better.”

Kathy didn't agree. She felt she was getting more than she deserved, and if Ian Ross stopped what he was doing with his finger she'd scream.

She stared blankly at the floor and wondered how her panties had gotten there. Maybe she should say something to prove she could still speak.

Nothing meaningful came to mind.

“Mayhap 'tis time to prove to the old ones ye believe still dwell here that we are worthy of their bed.”

Kathy mourned the loss of his finger as he knelt, lifted her from her sitting position, then effortlessly laid her on the scarlet silk.

It seemed she looked up a long way to his face. With the flickering candle glow behind him, he became a shadow man, an image in black and gray. She could just as well be looking up at his great grandfather, the first Pleasure Master. She shivered
and felt the bed shift under her, almost imagined it enfolding her, holding her captive so it would never again be alone.