My Prize (2 page)

And his wife had started the process. The wife that was now back in Hari's and Sami's arms, stroking them to make sure they were real.

The Guardian sighed again, and steered the laughing group down the path toward the Temple of Time. They were well on their way to completely forgetting why they were here, and it was vital they get to the problem in hand and solve it rapidly.

He and Alana had only been in Anyela for a few hours, and already he'd realized that if ever they could have used a genuine Magic Lamp, this was the moment.

*~*~*~*

Alana was beside herself with happiness.

It had been three years since she'd met Paul Guardino on her doorstep, two since they'd married, one since they'd moved to the small vineyard they tended with such loving care during the summers when Paul wasn't teaching at the local university, and four months since they'd heard the good news about their baby.

She figured that meant it had to have been over three years since she'd fucked Hari and Sami.

Of course, figuring in the interdimensional thing, it could be more like three thousand.

They neared the elegant temple and the men became quieter, more somber and she could see how assuming the burden of "Guardian" had affected each of them. Sami's smile looked a little weary at times, Hari's face fell into calm, thoughtful lines, and Paul?

Well, she couldn't even look at him without getting a major case of the screaming thigh sweats, no matter how somber he appeared. God, she loved him so much, and was so thankful that they were together.

Hari and Sami had shown her more of lust and passion than she could ever have imagined, but above everything they'd brought her Paul. Her heart, her soul and her mate. For eternity.

She sighed as they crossed a quiet courtyard and entered the Temple together.

"You all right, Alana-love?" Hari's deep voice caressed her ear and brought an appreciative smile to her lips.

"Couldn't be better, Hari," she grinned back. "Just point me to a big chair and let me sit for a while, before my ankles decide to go on vacation and leave me with knees all the way down to my feet."

"Consider it done," added Sami, coming up and taking her arm.

Paul smiled his thanks. The two men gently steered Alana to a comfortable couch, then all three went to mingle with the other Guardians and elders.

Alana watched. All they needed was the open hood of a '57 Chevy and it would have been a perfect testosterone moment. Hmmm.

Her eyes turned to the open window next to her and she let her gaze roam over the beauty that was Anyela. Tucked into a space where time ceased and the universe held its breath, this world was one of color, light, warmth and happiness.

It was also one that bore a heavy responsibility, because it was here that the Guardians of Time lived up to their names.

Paul had shown Alana the focal point of the Temple just after they had arrived.

In the center of a large chamber within the enormous building was a circular dais. It was about table height, but was open, and looking down into it was like looking down into the center of a firework, or a star, or the pulsing heart of a newly hatched galaxy.

Threads of time ran next to each other, most running smoothly and efficiently. They shot cascades of dazzling sparks into the eyes of the observer, yet they were not blinding to look at, and close observation yielded very distinct timelines.

And occasionally, as with all things, something went wrong. A knot was formed, and that was when the Guardians were called upon to remove or repair the offending incident and put time back on track where it was supposed to be.

Apparently, there was now a knot. One that they thought they might be able to repair, but it was very complex. And in addition, there was the problem of the newest recruit to the ranks of Anyelan genies.

No genie had ever failed the training, and the fact that it looked as if one was about to do so was adding to the burdens shouldered by the Guardians.

A tall man caught Alana's attention as she let her mind wander over great cosmological concepts with the fleeting touch of a dust bunny. She was the first to admit that to
her
the idea of time and space meant having time to clear a space in her closet. And she'd disgusted Paul by consistently dozing as he'd devoured Carl Sagan's epic
Cosmos
series she'd bought him for Christmas last year.

Not for her the grandiose theories of cosmologists.

But she'd never lost her eye for a handsome man. And this one? Well,
wow
might have worked. If it had been uttered through full home theater amplification system with all woofers and tweeters cranked up to the max.

He was taller by at least a head than anyone sharing his path, and that head carried a massive fall of dark red hair.

She couldn't see from this distance, but she'd bet her non-existent booties that his eyes were green.

His shoulders were huge, bodybuilder-type huge, and she noticed he disdained the light silks of the other residents in favor of a tartan wrapped around his hips.

She giggled. An honest-to-God sort of kilt, plaid tossed over a broad chest and all. She wondered if any brave woman had dared ask
the
question about what he had under there. Although, upon reflection, Alana realized that here in Anyela the concept of underwear was alien, and
the
question irrelevant.

Too bad. Too,
too
bad.

Laird Rhuadhri McAllen, or Rory as everyone called him here, strode through the main square in Anyela, wondering for the thousandth time what the blazes he was doing in this strange place.

Oh it was lovely. No doubt about that.

The flowers, the colors, the people...all defied description. He'd had knowledge inserted into his brain that would have stunned his fellow Scotsmen into a coma. He could now quote somebody named Einstein and had a passing knowledge of planets on the outer rim of the galaxy.

He was familiar with poetry, literature and science, and thanks to a small implant, could speak forty-seven different languages and had lost most of his Scottish burr.

His sexual skills had been applauded and then, embarrassingly, critiqued. And by the women he'd just fucked, too. That was an experience he'd not soon forget.

Overall, they'd rated him high on the satisfaction scale, with a few points off for not letting them get on top of him. Well, damn it, they hadn't asked! He loved to have a woman on top, riding him to her pleasure, but he wasn't a damned mind reader.

He winced, wondering if that would be his next set of lessons. Learning to anticipate a woman's sexual needs? He truly believed, in spite of all the wonders he'd seen, that such a thing was completely impossible. And always would be.

The man who called himself Guardian had brought him here, promising he was needed.

Now, he had to wonder, for what?

So far, his little adventures hadn't exactly worked out. Or so he guessed. It seemed that no sooner had he been given an assignment than he was back here in Anyela again. Wandering through this lovely country, waiting for something to happen.

The paths were busy today, not just with hormonally challenged couples who regularly enjoyed each other with a minimal degree of privacy, but with the occasional family as well. It was market day and all the world loved to barter their wares.

A little thump into his shins made Rory look down.

The slightly scared eyes of a tiny girl looked up at him.

He smiled, realizing he must seem like a tree to such a tot. He squatted and held out his hands, grinning as she carefully wrapped her hand around one finger.

She smiled, tentatively touching his plaid with her other hand. "Pwetty dwess," she lisped.

"Thank you, wee one," answered Rory. "Would you like to see things from a bit higher up?"

She nodded.

Rory scooped her into his arms and held her high against his chest, giving her a bird's eye view of the crowds milling around the different stalls.

"Oh there's Mama..." The little girl pointed. "Mama...Mama...look, the big man lifted me waaaay up..."

Rory shuddered, having forgotten that delicate little girls could possess voices like foghorns when necessary.

"Mama" came over with a smile, and a word of thanks. "Lalla, stop screaming in this nice man's ear, will you?"

"Not a problem, Lady. I've heard battle cries on the field that were louder. Though not by much, I'll warrant," he answered with a laugh.

"He's got a pwetty dwess, Mama. I want one."

She sighed, relieving Rory of his burden. "Yes dear, I know. We'll add it to the list. Right after the silks, the caftan you saw the other day and the pony."

"She's a lassie. It's natural to want things," grinned Rory.

"You've children of your own, Sir?"

"Och no. It's not time for me to have mine yet. I have things to do and apparently I'm needed here..." He spread his hands around the busy scene. "Though heaven knows for what..."

The woman brushed her child's head with her lips and stared fixedly at him, concentrating on his eyes.

"Never underestimate the reasons for your presence here, Rory McAllen. You're needed. And all your skills will be put to the test. Best get ready."

Her tone brought shivers up his spine, and he stilled, wondering if he'd heard her correctly.

Then she blinked and smiled at him, and with a nod she left, the little hand of her daughter raised in farewell.

Now what the devil had that been all about?

*~*~*~*

"That's him."

The voice behind Alana made her jump a little. She'd been lost in watching the tall red-haired man as he chatted with a woman and her daughter.

"That's who?"

Paul sat himself down next to his wife and put his arm around her comfortably. "Laird Rhuadhri McAllen. Rory McAllen as we call him here. He's one of our main problems."

"Good heavens. Why?"

"He sucks at being a genie, that's why." The gloomy voice of Sami joined them, as he and Hari made their way over to the window.

"I thought genies were supposed to suck." Alana couldn't resist it. She received three identically indignant stares.

"Sorry. Toss a comment like that out and I'm gonna whack it right back at ya!" Inwardly she chuckled at them. Theirs had been such a
guy
response. "So how can he be such a lousy genie? Where did you send him?"

"We tried him in Elizabethan England when there was a small problem with financing the Globe Theatre." Hari looked pensive.

"Well, that sounds fine. So...he seduced some rich woman? What?"

"He tried to skewer William Shakespeare. Called him a pervert for putting men into women's dresses."

"Ah. Okay. He's a traditionalist then."

"Then we tried another time..." Sami shook his head.

"And?" Alana turned her gaze on her handsome blond friend.

Sami sighed. "He got into the Palace and Victoria never gave Albert a second look."

"Oh dear. So he doesn't follow instructions very well, either."

"You could say that."

"We tried to get him to intervene in the Techno-conflict of 2361."

"The whaaa...?" Alana's face reflected her confusion.

Hari coughed. "Sorry. It hasn't happened yet. Forget I mentioned it. Just figured you should know that Rory did his best to behead Bill Gates the Seventeenth."

Alana tilted her head and raised a speculative eyebrow. "A sentiment not dissimilar to those in my time, I might add. Although directed toward the original version by anyone who ever got the blue-screen-of-death and lost a week's work."

Paul tried to suppress a chuckle. "His latest adventure was on Argosy 2. We needed someone to distract their warrior queen so that the future rulers could stabilize the region."

"And?" asked Alana again.

"She tried to make him king."

Alana couldn't help it. She snickered.

Once again arrogantly masculine eyebrows were raised in her direction. God, if testosterone was a drug, she was getting seriously addicted here. "So the problem is that you all don't know what to do with one Scots warrior? A Laird has laid you low?"

The men winced and Alana found herself on the receiving end of the
I'm-tolerating-this-because-you're-pregnant-and-therefore-to-be-cherished
look.

She sighed. "Go away guys. All of you. I want to think, and I can't do it with all that...that...
chest
looming over me. "

This time, three male faces smiled. God, men were so
shallow
. Tell them they had a nice chest and they'd puff up like pouter pigeons. If anyone told her she had a nice chest right now, she'd probably cry, seeing as she felt rather like a cow three hours overdue for milking. And it was only going to get worse.

She pulled her attention back to the immediate problem and stood up, stretching her back and feeling the need to walk around a little, accompanied by the tiny flickers of life within her.

Resting her hand on her belly, she wandered over to the center of the room and stared at the astounding vision beneath.

The passage of time.

Something no mortal should probably see.

Her child stirred then settled, as if it, too, was stunned by the thought.

She pulled her eyes away, and strolled to some of the control panels that were discreetly set into desks along the walls.

One, Paul had told her earlier, indicated the general progress of time. Another, peppered with little lights, showed locations of other Time Temples. Yet a third showed tiny spots where potential problems might exist.

The touch of a finger would call up a report on that area.

Alana watched carefully as data streamed steadily across the mammoth information system.

She couldn't begin to guess at the technology behind it. She was actually afraid that even considering it would make her ears bleed. Instead, she considered Rory McAllen.

A warrior with enormous sexual dynamics. A man of action not subtlety. A man who could seduce a woman into giving up a nation or worshipping him enough to put him on the throne.