Once Upon a Valentine (16 page)

Not that she was about to let him know that.

“If I let you come with me, you’ll have to do as I say,” she insisted.

He snorted. “Snowball’s chance. Hell. Ever heard of them?”

“I mean it, or no deal. I’ll sneak away while you sleep.”

“I can go for days without sleep, princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped. “Most princesses are giddy, vapid, foolish and vain. Focused only on their own beauty rather than the well-being of anyone in their kingdoms, longing only for the attention of a handsome man. I am not like them!”

Without hesitating, he replied, “Well, you do have one thing in common with them, historian. You are beautiful.”

She froze, shocked at how much the compliment pleased her. He’d said it as casually as he’d say the night was cool or the ground hard; something that was accepted, understood. Men had told her she was beautiful, but only when they were holding her hand, looking deeply into her eyes…and trying to get under her skirts or into her priceless collections. Never just because they believed it.

But he sounded as though he did. Which made something inside her go soft and warm. Maybe she wasn’t the only one feeling this strange connection, wondering what it might be like to touch, to taste, to…

“You’re not going back tonight.”

So much for soft and warm. The man was an ass. “Yes, I…”

“Because they’ll be on guard all night long,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “If we go, it’ll have to be early in the morning when, hopefully, they’ll have figured you for a no-show until the next moonrise. Their guard should be down. Hopefully they’ll be taking shifts and two of them will be sleeping.”

He made a good point. “That means you agree to my terms?”

He rolled over onto his side to face her, leaning on his elbow, which made his shirt bunch and strain against the thick, flexing muscles of his arm.
Mercy.

“You say you have to get something. Fine. We’ll get it. But if you want to get out of this alive, you have to do it my way.”

She nibbled her lip, thinking it over.

“Otherwise, I’ll make a racket as soon as you get there so there’s no chance of you slipping in unnoticed.”

“But you won’t interfere, beyond ensuring we’re not caught?”

“Not as long as you follow my instructions.”

“And you won’t be nosy about what it is I’m getting?”

He rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on his hands. “Can’t say I won’t be curious.”

“You can be curious,” she said. “But your job is to make sure I come out alive, not to stick your nose into what I’m doing. Deal?”

“Deal.” Seeming almost irritated with himself for agreeing, Raine punched at the ground to try to make himself more comfortable. “Stupid tree root,” he muttered.

Bad move. Because, without warning, a large branch swooped from above him and swatted him with a face full of pine needles.

Ashlynn tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

“Damn this crazy place. Trees shouldn’t have feelings!”

“Just imagine what she’d do if I spilled the beans about Christmas,” she said, sotto voce.

The man’s eyes widened at the thought of the reaction
that
story would inspire in this grove of evergreens.

“’Night,” she said with a cheeky grin.

“Witch,” he muttered, sounding amused.

Chuckling, she rolled onto her side, not facing him. She did not want to fall asleep with the image of those purple-blue eyes and that too-handsome face in her mind. Determined not to think of him at all, she inhaled another deep breath of the sweet, cool air of her home world and hoped for dreams of a mysterious castle and the secrets of a long-lost civilization.

And not about the very sexy, slightly infuriating man resting a few feet away.

3

RAINE SELDOM SLEPT MORE than six hours a night, so he was awake well before dawn. It took him a few moments to recall where he was. Gazing up at the innocent-looking branches of a pine tree, and remembering how not-so-innocent the conifer really was, he rolled out from under it and glanced across the clearing.

Ashlynn was still there, curled up on her side, now facing him. Her long lashes were dark and spiky against her face, and he knew that, even if he’d met her by accident back on Earth, he would have recognized her as Elatyrian. She had the creamy-smooth skin of someone raised in a place where there was no pollution, no smog, nothing to dull that shining natural beauty.

She shifted a little, frowning in her sleep. But despite the movement, she never released her death grip on the damned bag, which was pressed against her body.

Don’t think about that body.

That was easier said than done, considering her clothes had shifted in the night. He caught a glimpse of bare skin, then sucked in a breath and turned his head to look up at the dark sky peeking through the canopy of trees. He actually managed to look straight up for a good ten seconds.

To hell with it.
He might try to be gentlemanly, but any guy with a set of hormone-producing balls would look again.

He looked.

Ashlynn wore a loose peasant skirt that had ridden high on one bent leg. Her leather sandals were sturdy, but still managed to look sexy as sin, with laces that wound from her ankle all the way to her knee. Her lacy white blouse had pulled loose from the skirt, enough to reveal an inch or two of tempting middle—a perfect spot to place his hands when cupping her hips.

The blouse had slipped, too. No, she wasn’t flashing him, but the scooped neckline now revealed the top curves of those perfect breasts, which rose gently with each steady breath.

Shit. Time to think about something else. Not about how that leg would feel twisted between his. Or whether the spot behind her knee was as sensitive as he imagined. Or whether her skin smelled as sweet and flowery as her hair.

Or how her breasts would feel in his hands, how her nipples would taste on his tongue, how it would feel to roll on top of her and slide into that soft, warm body.

Cool it, jackass. She’s a job. Nothing else.

A job that could land him in a world of hurt later. Or, now that they’d slept for several hours, sooner.

He still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to take her back to the village. It was like agreeing to escort a Christian to the lion pit—she could be chewed to bits.

He could think of only one way to get them in and out. And since he didn’t have an invisibility cloak at his disposal, they needed to be
so
obvious that they’d be rendered invisible anyway. Which meant Ashlynn needed to cover up those perfect breasts and those stunning legs. Not just from his own lustful view, but also from the sight of anyone else who would look at her and see the lovely young woman being sought by three thugs.

He knew of only one disguise that might accomplish it.

She’ll hate it.

Which made it that much more attractive, considering she was making him do something he so didn’t want to do.

“Paybacks are hell, princess,” he whispered.

With sunrise at least two hours away, he rose and slipped away from their campsite, making his way toward a cottage deep in the forest. He’d met the occupants before. The owner was a shady character who always had a bit of everything for sale.

As expected, the man had something that would work. Luckily, he didn’t haggle too much, so that by the time the sun rose, Raine had made it back to their makeshift camp. Just in time to see Ashlynn sitting up and stretching out the kinks of the night before. One stretch pulled her blouse higher, widening that tempting bit of skin and revealing the curve of one hip. The other reversed things. Both messed with his head.

He cleared his throat as he approached. “Morning.”

She started, as if she’d forgotten he was with her last night. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I had an errand to run.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep this long.”

“It’s the air. It’s drugging after being on Earth for a while.”

She rose to her feet, pushing her hair back and twisting it out of the way. The dampness of the night air had put a few curls around her face, and one hung down her neck, dipping into a fishhook that hung right at her cleavage.

He swallowed. Looked away. He did not want to be the fish caught on that hook. At least, not while there were men stalking her and he had to keep her determined butt safe from them.

“The change in air quality didn’t seem to affect you,” she said with a yawn.

“I travel back and forth a lot.”

“Why is that?”

He walked into the clearing, offering her a flask of water he’d refilled from a stream. “It’s part of my business.”

She took the flask. “And what business would that be?”

“Let’s just say I am a man who deals with things. I find them. I protect them.”

“You take them?”

“Sometimes.”

She quickly bent and picked up her satchel.

“Get over it, historian. I’m not interested in what’s in your bag. You’re all I’m interested in right now.”

“Because I’m the ‘thing’ in question for this job?”

“Pretty much.”

“Lovely.”

“You asked.” Tossing a bundle of cloth at her feet, he added, “Speaking of protecting you, put that on.”

She glanced down, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the rough woolen dress, dirty and stained. “Excuse me?”

“If you want me to take you back to Foxglen, you’ve got to blend in.”

Picking up the bundle, she shook out the dress, which was several sizes too big and just about the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Crusted with grease, dirt and some rust-colored spots that must be dried blood, the dress looked as though it had last been worn by Lizzie Borden attending a family brunch.

The trader’s wife apparently had mad skills in butchering.

“I’m not wearing this.”

He reached into the large bag he’d carried back from the trader’s shack. “Sure you are. And these.” He tossed her a heavy pair of wooden clogs, then dropped a wrinkled, smelly bandana on top of it. “Oh, and hide your hair, too.”

“You’re crazy.”

“If you want me to cover your ass so you can get whatever it is you so need from that village, you’ll do it. The villagers are looking for a pretty young woman, not a dirty farm wench.”

Her jaw dropped. “
Wench?
Did you just call me a wench?”

He nodded, then, knowing she’d have to stop protesting sooner or later, began to strip out of his own shirt. He didn’t have to change quite as much, considering nobody was looking for him. But it wouldn’t do to show up in the, er, wench’s company, looking as if he’d just stepped out of a Levi’s commercial. Not that many people here knew what Levi’s were. Or commercials.

“Be sure to rub some dirt on your face,” he said, glancing over. Surprisingly, he caught her staring at him, her eyes almost as wide-open as her mouth.

Whoa.
The woman was suddenly very easy to read. There was lust in those deep blue eyes. Pure want. The way she licked her lips, the slow inhalations that made her chest rise and fall, said she’d been knocked pretty hard by sexual awareness.

Well, hell, join the club, lady. It’s about time you got here.

Raine didn’t move, shocked and incredibly turned on by how obvious she was about her interest. It was probably as obvious as he’d been this morning while she’d slept. He only wondered what they were going to do about it.

“Well?” he asked, the word loaded, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking.
Are you going to get dressed? Are you going to get
un
dressed? Are you going to touch me with your hands the way you are with your eyes?