The Pleasure Master (9 page)

He glared at the wiggling flower as he added wood to the fire. His brothers. He must pay them in kind for their challenge. He would find women for them who truly couldn't be seduced, at least by men who knew so little about a woman's pleasure.

He paced away from the fire, then back.

“I loooove you.”

But he couldn't concentrate on his brothers tonight, could only think of the woman who lay so close, could only imagine her heat surrounding him, welcoming him. He continued to pace.

“I loooove you.”

He pictured the moment she would look into his eyes and
know,
what he truly was, what they would share. His step quickened at the thought.

“I loooove you.”

Clenching his fists, he swung to face the wee yellow demon. “God's teeth, will ye cease yer blathering about love!”

And surprisingly, the flower was quiet.

Breathing deeply, he turned to see if the woman had noticed his loss of control, but her loose-limbed stillness told him that she slept.

Exhaling sharply, he crouched and stared into the heart of the flame. “I give ye tonight, Kathy of Hair. Rest well. For not even a score of strange minions will save ye from me.”

“I loooove you.”

The sounds woke Kathy. From the muted clicks and scrapes, she guessed maintenance workers must be in her apartment hallway. They could at least wait until nine o'clock. And she must be getting the mother of all colds because it felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest. No wonder, after standing in the sleet last night waiting for . . .

The elephant purred.

She opened her eyes to meet Malin's unblinking yellow stare, and the horror of yesterday came pouring back. She groaned.

“Ye dinna sound well, lass. Do ye have a pain?”

“It's lying on me.” She turned her head enough to see Ian seated on a rug with pieces of something scattered around him.

The sheer power she felt when she looked at him
again forced her to draw a deep breath. Malin growled at the sudden rise of her chest.

Ian's hair, a dark tangle of temptation, framed his face as he leaned over his work.
His hair.
Before she went back to New York, and she would go back, she had to run her fingers through those strands.

She'd start with a shampoo, some conditioner, then snip off a few ends. . . .

Kathy turned on her side, and Malin plopped off her stomach onto the fur. He ratcheted his growl up a notch. “Sorry, Your Nastiness.” She braved Malin's wrath by offering him a brief head scratch, and his growl subsided to a grumbling complaint.

“Malin has decided he likes ye.”

“Could've fooled me.” And after she memorized the texture of Ian's hair, she'd go home, because she had too many things to do.

“'Tis a great honor. Ye dinna want to be one whom Malin doesna like.”

“Bad things happen?”

“Aye.”

Forget Malin. Kathy had some major issues to address. She could deal with the toilet situation, but there was something even more important. “Coffee? Tell me you have coffee in 1542.”

“Coffee?”

No. She couldn't function as a rational human being without her two cups of coffee. Only one thing could help her cope with a world sans coffee. “Okay, I'll settle for a piece of chocolate.”

“What is chocolate?”

Kathy stared at him. Impossible. She knew her history. When old Noah had loaded his ark, he'd taken two of every animal and a bag of Hershey Kisses. How to explain the wonder of chocolate to one who'd never tasted it? “Chocolate is . . . smooth, rich, and sweet. It makes a bad day good, and a rotten date okay. It's . . . chocolate.”

“This chocolate sounds wondrous, but I havena any to give ye.”

No coffee? No chocolate? She couldn't stay here.

“What're you doing?” Okay, she'd keep a positive attitude today. This time-travel stuff had to work both ways. So all she had to do was figure out how she got here, then figure a way to go home. Not impossible for an intelligent, twenty-first century woman, right?

Before her positive attitude could spring a leak, she climbed to her feet and padded over to where Ian was still engrossed in his work. She narrowed her gaze. Those small yellow pieces looked familiar. They looked like . . .

“Suzy Sunshine. Those are Suzy Sunshine pieces. What've you done to her?”

He raised his gaze to hers, and the intensity of his silver stare almost made her forget New York and the unfortunate Suzy Sunshine.

“I took the wee flower apart to see how it worked.” He slid his gaze the length of her body, and a heated sizzle followed its path. “I have a great curiosity about
all
things.”

Hah. She could fling innuendoes as well as the
next guy. “Well, I hope you don't expect to run around taking apart everything you don't understand? One of those
things
might rear up and sock you in the jaw.”

“Mayhap.” He grinned, dissolving her crusty morning attitude like warm water melting snow.

Speaking of warm water . . . “Umm, any chance of my getting some water to clean up with?”

“Aye.” He nodded toward a tunnel branching off from the main room. “Ye'll find a small pool of water there.”

Translation: water colder than Arctic ice in a tunnel darker than a New York alley. Not inviting. She shivered.

His gaze softened. “I could bring water from the pool and heat it over the fire. Ye could bathe by the hearth.”

“And where would you go?” She already knew the answer, but it was always good to get verbal confirmation.

“I would sit and watch ye. 'Tis a thing to be enjoyed,
shared.
” His lids drifted half closed, but that did nothing to hide his hot anticipation of all that sharing.

Fine. At least cold water would get her circulation moving and wake up the old brain so it could contribute its share toward her going-home plans. She grumbled her way back to the bed, mumbled as she slipped her socks and boots back on, then paused in her chant of discontent long enough to ask, “What do I wash with, leaves and sand?”

She didn't mistake the glitter of amusement in
his gaze, and she also didn't mistake her own reaction to his magnetic pull on all things female in her. When the Power responsible for sex and temptation handed out pheromones, She must have lost her place after getting a look at Ian Ross because She'd given him a double dose.

Ian rose in one lithe movement, strode to a small wooden chest, and lifted out several items. He brought them over to Kathy. “Ye have a poor opinion of me, lass.”

She took the items gingerly, making sure she touched no part of him. Touching Ian would not be something a thinking woman should attempt before her first cup of coffee.
No coffee.
She'd forgotten.

She glanced up at Ian. Of course, there would be compensations. She looked back down at the things he'd given her. “Scented soap and real cloth?”

His smile flowed over her—teasing, inviting,
dangerous.
“Women like to gift me wi' small remembrances of them. 'Tis kind of them.”

Kind? She didn't think so. All six feet plus of him towered above her. Raw masculinity and smooth seduction. Harsh beauty and hidden depths. Combinations most women would find irresistible. Except Kathy Bartlett. She'd have no problem resisting him. She glanced up at him again. Sure. No problem at all.

“Well, I'll just trot on down this tunnel. Be back in a flash.” Then she'd call the smartest person she knew to help her get the heck out of here.

She'd taken only a few steps when her cell phone rang.

Ian's nostrils flared like a wild stallion scenting danger. Hmm. The stallion image needed to be explored.
After
she begged whomever was on her phone to find New York for her.

She walked to her purse and pulled out her phone. Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “Hello.” Did she sound calm, serious,
sane?

“You have papers to sign, girlfriend, so we can kick your ex's sorry butt all over that courtroom. Where are you?”

Kathy closed her eyes.
Yes.
The smartest person she knew. Coco—friend and attorney. “I'm tied up. . . . Well, not literally. I'm . . . Oh, what the hell, I'm in Scotland.”

There was a moment of silence while Coco digested this. “Scotland.”

“Scotland in 1542.” Kathy watched Ian edge closer so he could listen.

“Scotland. 1542.” Long silence. “I guess that means you won't be able to make our meeting today. I could reschedule.”

“I'm not joking, Coco. Something happened yesterday. I don't have a clue what, but I ended up here. Believe me.” Forget calm. Concentrate on sane.

“Here? Here like in Scotland?”

Kathy listened as Coco rustled papers. Probably looking for the number to her local mental health clinic. “I know it sounds crazy, but I'm really in Scotland.”

“I hope this is about a man, because if it isn't, we've got real problems. Do you have a man there?”

“Yes, there's a man, but—”

Kathy had no time to say more. The phone was taken firmly from her.

Ian gazed at the phone, then put it to his ear. “If it's a man ye desire, I can help ye. Ye must know that a man doesna want a lass who talks overmuch, so ye must curb yer need to blather.”

“And
you
are?”

Uh-oh. Coco's thunder voice, discernible across entire continents without the benefit of modern technology. Kathy winced. Coco had been known to reduce tough men to tears with that voice.

“Ian Ross. And ye sound like a bonny lass.”

“Cut the crap. Are you holding Kathy against her will? If you are, I'll charge you with kidnapping, unlawful transportation across state lines, intention to—” Ian held the phone away from his ear and blinked.

He glanced at Kathy. “What does ‘cut the crap' mean?”

Kathy rolled her eyes.

He put the phone back against his ear. “Yer voice would entice the strongest man if ye didna deafen him first.” Ian closed his eyes. “Ye should wear black, lass. One wi' yer boldness must have hair the color of flame. Red hair trailing down yer back and a brawny man to run his fingers through it. Ye're a woman of fire, Coco. Ye deserve a strong man.”

There was complete silence on the other end of the line for so long that Kathy feared Coco had fainted from the shock of a man talking back to her. She pulled the phone away from Ian. “Coco? Are you okay?”

“Who
is
that man?” Coco actually sounded . . . bemused. “He's right, of course. I need a strong man. How'd he know I have red hair? When you get back in town, maybe I could meet him. If that's okay with you, of course?”

“Sure. No problem.” Kathy stared blindly at the far wall where a tapestry filled with fantastic winged creatures hung.
Fantastic.
Who would ever believe her story? No one. “My car's sitting on I-95 near my exit if no one's stripped it or towed it away yet. And would you check on my apartment until I get back, Coco?”

“You're not going to tell me what you're really doing?” Coco sounded serious suddenly. “Strange time to take a vacation. You aren't the impulsive type. Are you sure everything's okay?”

“Wonderful.” No one in either time would ever believe her. “Do me a favor. Find out if anything important happened in Scotland in 1542.”

“Really into this Scotland thing, aren't you?”

“More than you'll ever know. I—” Kathy's concentration was shattered as the sound of footsteps in the tunnel signaled a visitor.

She took the phone from her ear and turned in time to see one of Ian's brothers burst into the room. Hard to tell which one with all that facial hair.

“Have ye chosen for me, Ian? 'Tisn't fair that ye have more time to woo yer lass than I have.” He strode over to stand beside Ian, then cast a startled glance at Kathy's phone. “It doesna matter which wench ye choose. There isna a lass I canna have.” He leaned close to the phone, then put out a tentative finger to touch it.

“There's another man there. I can hear him. Sounds like an arrogant macho jerk. Put him on.” Kathy winced as Coco's demand carried clearly to the two men.

Ian grinned. “I dinna know what a macho jerk is, Neil, but it doesna sound like ye've won Coco.”

Neil turned pale and swallowed hard, and Kathy could almost feel his need to run from her phone. But she had to give him credit. Seeing that Ian didn't run, Neil stood his ground. Barely.

“What demon's tool is that, Ian?” His voice was strangled.

“'Tis one of the wondrous things Kathy of Hair has brought from her land. She can speak wi' those she's left in her kingdom.”

“'Tis passing strange.” Neil reached for the phone with fingers that shook. “I would speak wi' this Coco. She has insulted Neil Ross. It isna a thing I take lightly.” He glanced at Kathy uncertainly. “Who is this Coco?”

Kathy was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Maybe she was getting used to the idea of being in this place, because it was the first time she'd felt like laughing since her expensive lemon had overheated. “Coco is my . . . dragonslayer.”

Neil looked suitably awed. “'Tis impossible for a weak woman to do such deeds.”

“I heard that, bozo.” Coco's voice dripped icy venom.

Neil's gaze narrowed as he put the phone to his ear. “'Tisn't seemly for a woman to speak so to a man. Ye must learn to respect those stronger and wiser than ye.”

Kathy backed away from the phone.
Massive explosion imminent.

“And that would be . . . ? You sorry piece of dog doo-doo. I'll respect those
stronger and wiser
than me when I meet them. You're not it, buster. I'd chew you up and spit you out if I had you in court. I
hate
Neanderthal boneheads who think that just because they have a penis, it makes them gods.”