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"Huh." She scrambled to her feet, needing to distance herself from him, from whatever
strange feelings he seemed able to generate. "Sounds like the same old testing-in-the-
name-of-science scam my ex-husband ran past any woman who'd climb into bed with
him."
She walked over to stand beside Peter and tried to ignore Malin's low growl. "But I
dropped out of the scientific community a long time ago." She directed a determined stare
at Ian Ross. "You'll never get a chance to practice on me, Pleasure Master, because I'll
never let you touch me again."
He smiled. A smile of wicked temptation and sweet promise.
"I dinna need to touch ye, Kathy of Hair."
Oh boy.
Chapter Three
Ian watched her reaction her unease with what he'd revealed about himself, with the
things she'd told him about her life. Restlessly, she clasped and unclasped her hands in her
lap. Her need to flee beat at him in waves of silent panic.
Once again, she reached down and pulled the strange object she'd spoken into out of her
bag. "So now that we've kind of explored your job description, I guess it's time for me to
get on home. I mean, it's Christmas. Everyone should be home on Christmas." She gazed
forlornly at the object in her hand.
Surprised, Ian realized his sympathy for her overrode his desire to hold the object in his
hands, to hear what she heard when she spoke to it.
The women who came to him were challenges, and after he'd solved their problems, he
thought no more of them. Sympathy was a soft emotion, and the Pleasure Master could
allow no soft emotions to interfere with his life.
She looked up at him, and he saw defeat in her eyes for the first time. "I... I don't know
whom to call. What do I say? It's 1542 and I'm stuck in Scotland? Send a taxi?"
He didn't try to hold her. After her reaction to what he'd told her about himself, he didn't
think she'd welcome his touch. "Ye seem verra upset wi' the year. What year would please
ye?"
She ignored his question and moved over to stare at his hearth. "You know, I really think I
want this to be a brain-blip. With a brain-blip I can go to a state-of-the-art facility where
they'll do an MRI, locate the problem, and fix it. That way I can still be in "
"God's teeth, woman, ye make no sense at all. What year do ye think ye're in?" What had
she done to him? He never lost his temper with a woman. The lass looked as though she'd
break into pieces if he touched her.
Emotion flooded her eyes. Shock, desperation, fear. "I'm pretty sure this is just a brain-
blip. Probably too much stress in my life. And finding out that old PMS is suing me must've
set everything off. Sort of like a panic attack. That means I'm still in 2001, and you don't
exist."
He didn't know which confused him more, her belief that she came from a future time or
her assertion that he didn't exist.
Mayhap his earlier suspicions had been right.
Gordon Mackay had already gone to foolish lengths to capture him for Fiona, and this
might be another such effort. Gordon knew Ian's curiosity was his weakness. What better
way to lure him into a trap? But could Gordon even conceive of things as strange as the
toy the woman carried with her, the object she spoke to, and the "mousse"?
Ian shook his head to clear it. He could only deal with what was happening now, and not
worry overmuch about possible conspiracies. "What does this New York look like?"
She blinked at him. "It has buildings that reach into the sky, millions of people, and traffic
jams that give me migraines."
He didn't believe there were buildings that reached into the sky, but then lasses often
enlarged things beyond the limits of truth. Had not rumors spread about the size of his ?
"So, I guess you've never spent any time in the Big Apple."
Big apple? Where might they grow a fruit large enough to shelter a man? And what was a
traffic jam? Mayhap she meant only to mock him.
"Ye want proof that this be 1542? Come wi' me." Frustrated, he spoke more harshly than
necessary. "Then I'll have yer true story, not the tale ye've told me."
Her eyes widened. "You don't believe me?"
He raked his fingers through his hair. "Ye name me a brain-blip and say I dinna exist, yet
ye expect me to believe ye've traveled from some future time."
She seemed to wilt before his eyes. "Right. You have a point there."
"Still, I will give ye the proof ye crave. Mayhap ye werena sent by the Mackays."
She pursed her lips, and her gaze grew puzzled. "Who are the Mackays?"
He forced his attention from the ripeness of those lips. "Fiona, the sister of Gordon
Mackay, desires me. She doesna want to share, but the Pleasure Master canna belong to
only one woman." He shrugged. "Gordon willna accept that. He is ever plotting to capture
me for her."
"I feel your pain. Hey, sticking with just one woman would be a real bummer. So many
women, so little time." She narrowed her eyes to blue slits of contempt.
"Dinna judge. Ye're strange to the ways of the clan." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]