Ancient Ties (18 page)

unusual situation—nothing else to do but seduce her.

She settled comfortably in her saddle. He hadn’t come to her the night before, hadn’t taken advantage of her weakened condition. Why hadn’t he? Warmth bathed her skin. He cared.

Yes, he wanted her, and he hadn’t used her drunken state before. Even though she recalled throwing herself at him, crawling all over him. What a wonderful, sweet man. Janney looked down at her hands holding the reins. She felt the heat rise through her body, up her chest, across her cheeks. Her heart thundered in her breast. It hit her. Had she fallen in love with him?

Ohmigod!
How is that possible? Could it really be love?

She wanted him, and he so obviously wanted her. Being with him, flirting with him felt right. She frowned. Right? None of this is right. Leaving your own century to go back in time to meet a Roman soldier was not right. It was wrong. Well, not exactly wrong. More like weird. But, love?

Janney pushed back the tears that threatened. No sense in crying. No sense in wallowing in the fear that clamped down on her a dozen times a day. Or worrying about how her mother was handling her disappearance. She shook herself and looked out upon the countryside, her bleak expression fading. Realizing that her back teeth were clenched so tightly her face ached, she relaxed them and forced herself back to the present reality.

Where were they? The woods were dark, sun filtering through in little patches. She craned her neck trying to catch a glimpse of the birds that were chirping noisily.

She loved him. Her mind kept coming back to that. Her gaze landed on Marek’s back. A gust of breath escaped her.

Wow.

Marek turned around in his saddle. “We’re here.”

“Oh.” She blinked, clearing her thoughts and turning to Marek. “What?” Her gaze followed his pointing finger. “Oh, my God in Heaven,” her voice barely above a whisper. Kicking her horse’s sides, urging him ahead, she got closer, climbed clumsily off, and hung on to the saddle as if it was a lifeline.

Stonehenge.

“I just saw this a few days ago.” She shook her head as if that could erase the confusion of the moment. A few days ago, she’d been in the Twenty-first Century. The morning sun gilding the huge stones, the reverential silence, all connected Janney to this spot. As confused and off-balance as she often felt now, some things, it seemed, didn’t change throughout the centuries.

“You’ve seen this?” He sounded like a disappointed little boy wanting to be the first to show off his treasure.

“Yes. It’s still standing in my time. It’s called Stonehenge.

But, oh my God, it’s more complete now. And you can walk right up to it. There was a fence around the area to keep tourists from touching the stones. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m seeing this, two thousand years before my lifetime.”

Without another word, she set off through the tall grasses and bushes. Janney raced straight to an upright stone, a sarsen, reaching out tentatively with one hand, and then placing her palm flat on the smooth surface. Arching her neck back, her eyes tracked up to the stone beam, a lintel, sitting high atop.

She picked her way in and around the stones, warm from the sun, smoothed by workmen maybe three thousand years before this century. She touched them with great sweeps of her hands. Janney had always been a toucher, needing to handle rich-textured clothing in stores, jewelry on store racks, wanting to feel the thick brush strokes on paintings in museums.

She looked up. A few white, cottony clouds studded the vivid blue sky. Beneath her feet lush grasses nestled against the

warm brown and gray stones. What a picture. And no camera.

She whirled around, her back pressed into the sarsen, palms flat against it. Her heart pounded; her two worlds crashing in again.

“You’re happy, Janney Forrester? Stonehenge pleases you?”

Marek stalked toward her. His voice was uncertain, but his body language definitely wasn’t. Janney hugged the rough warmth of the stone, pressing back as if it could become her backbone.

Tendrils of heat skittered through her belly and lower, all her nerve endings tingling. Shouting, more like it. This man really was a magnificent male specimen. All that attention was focused on her. She was tired of fighting it. Of analyzing why he wanted ordinary, uninteresting her. She wasn’t in Iowa any longer. Ed no longer existed for her.

She tried to meet his eyes, but her gaze insisted on sweeping over his tantalizing body. He was strong, the muscles in his long legs stretching and tightening as he moved. His powerful arms swinging easily. How could a man in a skirt be so masculine? As if in slow motion, he prowled toward her. The white of his tunic contrasting with his darkly tanned skin.

Oh, yeah.
Dazedly, she leaned farther back against the sun-baked stone and waited for him to join her. He smiled, but an anxious and uncertain smile. Like a parent trying to please a child. Except, she wasn’t a child, and she didn’t think of him as a parent.

Marek stood before her, tall for his time, but only a few inches taller than her. She needed another deep breath, desperately needed it. “Marek, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“The sacred stones?” His chest rose and fell with ragged breathing.

“Yes. What do you know about them?” She had to keep talking, or she would jump him right here and now.

“Not very much. It is thought that they are the sacred stones of the Druid priests, but I’ve never been here when rites were performed.” He moved in closer, Druids and religious rites clearly not on his mind.

“I’m not thinking of religious rites now,” he said.

“No?” Janney laughed nervously. He’d said exactly what she’d been thinking. His body was taking over her field of vision, and her mind. He was taking over her life.

Wrapping his hands around her neck, he brushed his thumbs along her jaw, eased his fingers up into her hair. “You’re beautiful.”

Janney, caught between the hard sarsen and his hard body, locked her knees. He was so close that falling down wasn’t a problem. He tipped her chin up with a thumb. She caught her breath, gazing up into his warm, chocolate-fudge eyes. It was hard to resist his sensuality focused directly on her.

“You’re the Goddess of Light.” His fingertips burrowed through her curls. “Your hair the color of the sun.” He leaned in and kissed a rounded strand over her brow. “Soft…”

Janney barely breathed, eyes closing to his lulling voice.

This was just about perfection, and she wanted to enjoy his seduction.

“Your eyes are like the morning sky.” His mouth trailed lower, kissing her closed eyelids, the side of her nose. His breath was coming in short spurts. Janney couldn’t stop the little whimper from escaping the back of her throat.

She wanted to let go. She ached to kiss him back. She wanted to smooth her lips across his hard jaw, his tender throat, feel that liquid, beating pulse against the sensitive skin of her lips.

One of his hands trailed down her chest to the V of her tunic. The backs of his fingers brushed her breasts. “So incredibly beautiful.” He slipped a finger between her skin and the bra she still wore.

Janney slumped to loosen the fit. His fingers were long, and with a little bit of help, he could touch the tip of her breast.

He did, with thumb and forefinger he squeezed her nipple.

She made no attempt to hold back the soft cry. Of their own volition, her hips arched against the hard, round bulge of his erection against her belly. Janney’s own body liquefied and pulsed, her desire quick and rampant.

“By the Gods, I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone more,”

Marek growled, squeezing her nipple again and pushing her hips back into the stone, rubbing his ridged penis into her. Groaning, as if in pain.

Janney gasped, and bit where his neck met his shoulder in answer. His words were fantastic, but, of course, he didn’t mean them. This was just sex. She licked where she’d bitten.

Oh, but it will be great sex.

His eyes were inches from hers, perfect understanding in their matching gazes. His lips weren’t hard or straight now; they were soft and moist. They touched hers. He buried his tongue in her mouth. Growled.

Janney lost her breath. She wanted him to touch her, to take her. She’d bitten his shoulder. Welcomed his tongue into her mouth. Janney fisted her hands into his tunic, opened them, and pressed them into his sides. She slid them up and around, tightening over his muscular back.

Marek stopped the kiss.

No!

She peered at him through her lashes. He held her tightly. It was as if she could feel his skin vibrating, hot and definitely quivering. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hitched.

Janney paused, too, fingers gripping the cloth over his back.

He eased away from her and brought his fingers up.

Janney shook as he touched the hollow of her throat. She swallowed a gasp. He watched his hand; dark lashes veiling his eyes, as he deliberately drew his fingers down to her breasts. It was a gentle touch, a burning trail down her skin.

“Marek.” She raised her eyes to his. Her breasts ached; her nipples tingled. Hurt. She could hardly breathe.

“Janney,” he groaned. “I want… Let me…”

“Marek,” she writhed. “Oh, God, please…”

His big, calloused hands slid the tunic and bra straps off her shoulders. Face intent, eyes gleaming, he leaned forward and delicately took her tightened nipple, through the lace of her bra, between his teeth. The combination of the raspy lace, hot moist

breath, and the controlled sharp bite almost threw her over the edge. Her reflexive surge pushed the cushion of her breast up against his nose. With a quick motion, he unsnapped the hooks in back and exposed her to the waist, her arms trapped by the material at her elbows. She would have laughed at the idea of screaming nipples, but it was too true right now. They’d tightened into hard, puckered points, her breasts jiggled with tension. Cupping her in his palms, he kneaded her breasts with magic knowing hands that had her moaning involuntarily, continuously, and arching into the cool steadiness of his fingers.

Words coursed through her brain. Orders—suggestions—pleas.

Bite. Suck. Lick me. Please!

The shock of his wet lips closing around her nipple, unhindered by bra or tunic, drove her wild. “God. Yes,” she cried out sharply.

Marek paused.

“No! Don’t stop. Oh, God, please don’t sssst-op,” her voice cracked and died.

Obediently, he bent to her again, his breath warm on her skin. She could see his lips closed around her. Her teeth caught her lower lip and she tossed her head back as a long, low moan issued from deep inside at the pleasure in that sight.

His hands under her shoulders, he laid her down gently into thick grass at the base of the stones. The sounds coming from his throat seduced her as much as his mouth on her skin. He took turns at her breasts, driving her senseless, his tongue leaving a trail of wet, for the breeze and sun to dry. His teeth pricking her, she could feel every bite sharply careening through her body. “God. Yes. God, help me.”

Janney was on the edge. She knew it. Afraid he’d stop, Ed had always stopped too quickly, she begged, “Please. Please.

Yes.” The pleasure just went on and on. Her body jerked and struggled for release. He suckled softly; her head swam, dizzily reeled. He suckled hard, she felt the draw of his mouth, felt his tongue swish back and forth on the very tip.

“Yesss,” she whimpered. He switched breasts. She couldn’t breathe. Marek was stretched on top of her, his hips over hers, his thigh pressed up against her mound. She rubbed herself frantically against it, instinctively, passionately. One hand crawled up between her legs and found her heat. His fingers parted her drenched thatch of curls, her slippery lips. “Yesss.”

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She looked up. His eyes were inches from hers.

“Do you want this?” Marek’s breathing harsh.

He played with the entrance to her body. Teasing, stroking.

Her head spinning. His finger swirled in her wetness, made short, explicit strokes into her vagina. Janney gripped his biceps, hooked her thumbs in the bend of his elbows. “God.” Her hips tilted up, answering the question. They groaned at the same time. She felt his thick finger slip inside. All the way inside. She tightened her muscles, gripping him, strained toward the pleasure. Her eyes snapped open.

What’s that?
Her heart thundered painfully in her chest.

Bells? Clanking bells. Janney straight-armed Marek up, leaving her breasts quivering and bare.

What in the name of all the Gods is wrong now?

Marek glared at her. He didn’t want this to be another one of her games. He was tired of the yes, no game she was playing.

His entire body was tense. His phallus was thick, rock hard, throbbing in anticipation of entering her hot, willing body.

Finishing what they had started. And now she pushed him away.

He did not need this aggravation.

Her eyes were wide, anxious. She seemed to be saying something, her lips opening and closing, little puffs of air hitting his face.

“Bells.”

Bells?
Tinny, clacking bells. Marek’s head swiveled around in time to see the first of the goats wander into the edge of the circle of stones.

Goats.
His sluggish mind took in the sounds, relayed the truth.

“Hades!” he sputtered. That’s what she was trying to say.

Bells. Now, he heard whistling.

Goat herder!

Marek, frustrated and thwarted again, quickly pulled his hand from under her tunic.

The first goat sauntered over, sniffed, yanked grass out by the roots, and apathetically inspected them while chomping it down.

“Hades!” he growled again. Bolting upright, he realized that Janney was bare from the waist up. He gripped the shoulders of her tunic, sliding them back up and pushed her breasts inside the material. That would have to do for now. He couldn’t allow the goat herder to see what was his alone.