The Pleasure Master (25 page)

He never touched her. Ian stepped between them first. “Ye'll not take the woman. She is a stranger to the Highlands and under the protection of the Pleasure Master.”

This was it then, the confrontation he'd known must come, but never suspected would begin over a woman. Still he would not let any man take Kathy from him, and the fierceness of his feelings surprised Ian. “Ye dinna speak for God, but for yerself. Ye want only to show yer power while ye hide behind the name of priest.”

He ignored the collective gasp of the people who'd gathered.

The priest's eyes narrowed to evil slits. “Move aside, Ian, so I may take her, and God will forgive what ye've said about His servant.”

Ian could feel Kathy trying to push past him, and he shoved her back behind him none too gently. Unfortunately, he couldn't handle Peter quite so easily.

“The last time I saw a mouth like that, it had a hook in it.”

The priest transferred his anger to Peter. “I will throw that abomination into the sea.”

Ian knew he must make his stand before Kathy found her voice or Peter thought of some new insult to fling. “Ye must kill me before I'll let ye take the woman or the toy. Are ye willing to risk so much, priest?”

The gasp now came from the woman behind him.

The priest's gaze grew speculative. He turned to the crowd. “Mayhap ye can now understand why I've condemned Ian Ross. He protects evil because he is a minion of the devil. Help me seize him and reap yer reward in Heaven.”

Suddenly, Colin stood beside him. “If ye take my brother, ye must take me also. The Pleasure Master has done nothing but protect a helpless woman who has done no wrong.”

From the struggles behind him, Ian doubted the helpless woman part.

Neil also stepped to his side. “Ye must deal wi' me as well. Ian is right to protect Kathy of Hair.

And mayhap ye should practice more meekness and worry less about the pleasures of the flesh.” His gaze held contempt.

The crowd muttered and shifted restlessly, the people's uncertainty plain.

Jamie pushed to the front of the mob. “This woman is good. She gave my wife back to me after we lost our babe. I willna take part in harming her.”

A murmur of assent flowed through the crowd.

Mary walked calmly to stand in front of the people and as one they stepped back. She raised her arms. “I see great misfortune visiting the Highlands if this woman is harmed.”

The crowd waited to hear no more. They scattered, hurrying back to their homes, leaving the priest to stride fuming in their wake.

“I didna know ye saw so much, Mary.” Ian drew in a deep relieved breath.

“I see much more than ye'll e'er know, Ian Ross.” She smiled at Ian and a furious Kathy, who'd finally emerged from behind him.

“I appreciate what everyone did, but I won't let you put your life on the line for me.” Kathy glared up at Ian. “I was perfectly capable of discussing the situation reasonably with—”

“Ye would've made a fine fire on a cold night for the good priest to warm his hands by.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened at his blunt speech. “Well, since you put it that way . . .” She glanced around. “Thanks, everyone.”

She turned to watch the retreating priest, and Ian
knew she was wishing herself safely back in her own land.

Before leading Mary back to her cottage, Colin turned to Ian. “Watch yer back, brother. The priest has lost power wi' the people, and he willna take it well.”

Neil added his voice. “Aye. Take care. I'll see ye tomorrow. I must speak wi' Coco.”

Ian watched Neil and Colin walk away . . . and realized that for the first time in his life his brothers had stood with him.

Something warm and new moved in him.

They had stood together as brothers.

Kathy lay beneath her covers that night watching Ian through half-closed lids. He sat with his back to her in front of the hearth, working on something that had held his attention for hours. She'd drifted off to sleep several times only to waken and find him still there.

The flickering flames cast light and shadow across the ancient rock walls, the jewel-colored tapestries, the doorway leading to the bed that seemed to fill more and more of her thoughts.

And the man. It always came back to the man. Ian Ross had shielded her with more than his body today. Only now, hours after the fact, could she appreciate what he'd been willing to give up for her. His reputation, his
life.

She watched the play of muscles across his
strong back, could see each time he fumbled with the small objects he was trying to work with. She smiled. The same hands that could slide across a woman's skin leaving a trail of fire and need weren't meant to do piecework.

“Yer sleep is troubled, lass?” He didn't turn around.

“I guess so.” How did he sense her wakefulness when she hadn't made a sound? “Peter and my toys have blown any chance I had of being accepted, haven't they?”

“People dinna want to accept that which is strange to them. It has always been so. Is it different in yer land?”

“No, I guess it isn't.” Except that she'd never been on the receiving end of intolerance. This was a heavy life-lesson kind of thing.

“Ye mustna give yer toys to others. ‘Twill cause ye grief.”

Kathy admired the curve of his spine as he bent over, trying to thread something. She didn't have the energy to look closer. “I know, but I couldn't stand seeing that kid cry.”

“Would ye want yer own bairn, lass?” His voice gentled.

She pulled and pushed the idea around in her mind, examined it from every angle. “Yes. I'd like a baby.” She'd never burned any brain cells thinking about motherhood before. Why now?

Maybe because today she'd had an up-close and personal view of life's frailty. Without Ian's intervention, she'd probably be dead. Not a good thing
to be when you came from a family in which everybody lived into his or her eighties, and you'd sort of planned your future around that expectation. Was that why she was suddenly giving the motherhood thing some thought?

Okay, that was a small part of it. The major part? Ian Ross. Old PMS had never instilled any I-want-to-have-your-baby thoughts. He hadn't even been able to instill any I-want-to-have-sex-with-you thoughts.

But Ian Ross? Thoughts of having his baby made her feel all soft and mushy. Yech. She didn't like what he was doing to her.

Liar. You love what he's doing to you
. So what was she going to do about her feelings? After her marriage, she'd sworn never to sleep with a womanizer again, but she'd also sworn never to back away from another challenge.

She wouldn't back away from this. She'd make love with Ian. Tomorrow. She'd ask him to touch her tomorrow. He'd work his magic, and she'd have an unforgettable memory to take home with her.
And if you never go home?
She'd still have her memory.

“What is yer real name, Kathy?”

“What?” Her
real
name? “You don't think Kathy of Hair is my real name?

His soft chuckle made her close her eyes so she could absorb the sound, store it away with her other memories.

“I believe yer name is Kathy because ye answer to it easily, but I dinna believe the Hair part. And
I dinna believe yer father is a king. A king would kill yer husband for treating ye so. The tale shouldna shame ye. Ye were frightened and said what ye must to save yerself. But I would know yer real name.”

Kathy felt deflated. So much for her cleverness. “My name is Kathy Bartlett.”

His fingers paused over their work. “Bartlett is an English name.”

Not good
. An English name in Scotland was not a good thing. “I'm not English. I'm American. We haven't been English for at least two hundred years. No English blood left in my veins, just good old American blood.”

“There are English spies in the Highlands.” Oh boy. “Didn't you hear what I said? I . . . am . . . not . . . English.”

“Aye. I heard ye, lass.”

She couldn't tell from his tone whether he believed her or not. Fine. Something else to worry about.

But not even Ian Ross's suspicion that she might be an English spy could keep her awake. She supposed being mistaken for a witch and almost turned into burnt toast tired a body out. As sleep claimed her, she knew Ian was still working by the fire.

She could sense him near, feel him as surely as if he touched her. He knelt and placed something beside her.

Even without opening her eyes, she knew it was still dark. With a sleepy mutter meant to explain in
detail why even chickens wouldn't get up this early, she pulled her covers up to her chin and turned over.

His soft laugh soothed her, made her feel safe.

“Sleep well, lass. I've made something to remind ye of yer home. Ye'll feel strong when ye wear it, as ye did wi' the one yer father gave ye.”

She drifted back to sleep with the warm huskiness of his voice to fuel her dreams.

When she awoke again, it was to the usual sound of Peter's morning chatter. There was something different about it, though.

She opened her eyes just enough to see Peter hurrying toward the cave entrance spouting yet another movie quote.

“There's no reason to become alarmed, and we hope you'll enjoy the rest of your flight. By the way, is there anyone on board who knows how to fly a plane?”

Strange. His line didn't fit the calm morning, and Peter's comments
always
fit the situation. Maybe the Scottish humidity had short-circuited him. And where was Ian?

Now completely awake, she sat up . . . and saw it. Beside her lay a delicate necklace made of shells. Pale pink, with the pearl-glow of summer sunsets on cool ocean waves, it was a stark contrast to the dark emotions of the man who'd made it.

I've made something to remind ye of yer home.
She picked the necklace up with fingers that shook. Unbidden, tears slid down her face as she examined the careful placement of each small shell, remembered
his shoulders hunched over as he concentrated on what must have been a tedious task for hands used to wielding a sword.

For her.
He'd made this to heal her heart, not to conquer her body. The only thing old PMS had ever given her was a video for the sexually adventurous so that he could “go where no man had gone before.”

Standing, she reverently placed the necklace beside Suzy.

“I loooove you.”

“I know, Suzy.” Kathy blinked away tears that didn't want to stop. “I know.”

She cried while she bathed and while she dressed, and continued crying as she made a cup of tea from the mysterious leaves Ian had been given. Only as she took her first sip did she realize her tears weren't for her life in New York, but for the man who'd cared enough to make a small shell necklace for a woman who'd been nothing but a pain in his behind.

He
deserved
to be Pleasure Master, and tonight she'd make sure he continued in that role. Still holding her tea, she walked into the other room; it seemed to draw her in a way she didn't understand. Lighting a lone candle, she stared at the bed.

Did its first owner haunt its crimson hangings, still rest on the silken cover, wait forever for a lover who'd never again touch her?

No matter what Ian said, Kathy believed the woman had loved his great grandfather.

Maybe she only waited for another man and
woman to make love on it, to touch each other as she'd touched her lover, so she could be released.

Kathy shook her head. What a bunch of nonsense. Scotland was making her as superstitious as everyone else here. She blew out the candle and wandered back to the main chamber. Where
was
Ian?

Footsteps echoed down the tunnel, but they weren't Ian's. Even in such a short time she'd learned to recognize so much about him.

Neil entered the chamber, and Kathy let her breath out in a whoosh of relief.

“Did you see Ian outside?” She looked behind Neil, but Peter hadn't followed him. Why was Peter still outside when there were people inside he could harass?

Neil shrugged. “Mayhap he takes care of his horse.” He strode to Kathy's phone and hit the button that would connect him to Coco.

He smiled. Coco must have answered.

“I've thought on our joining all night, lass.” He dropped to one of the cushions, obviously settling in for a long chat. “Ye said ye didna want a man who'd bore ye in bed, so I thought what might amuse ye. Do ye have a liking for cream and honey?”

Kathy did
not
want to hear this. Besides, Ian's absence worried her. After yesterday, she couldn't believe he'd leave her unguarded for such a long time. And why was Peter still outside? Come to think of it, Malin was nowhere to be seen either.

She hurried out of the cave and glanced around.
No Ian in sight. Next, she walked to where he kept his horse. The horse was there in a small corral, but she didn't see Ian. What the—?

Then she saw Peter and Malin. Malin sat by a small bush while Peter stood in the middle of a faint path worn through a small grove of trees.

She hurried over to them. “Why're you guys out here, and where is—”

“If ye search for Ian Ross, daughter of evil, ye willna find him here.”

Kathy spun to face Father Gregory. Fear made her want to race to the safety of the cave, but she couldn't let him see her panic. She had to find out what had happened to Ian.

“Wow. Daughter of evil. You gave me my whole title. This must be important.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Peter hurrying toward the cave. Malin moved up to sit beside her.

“Ian Ross willna be here to protect ye, whore. I helped the Mackays take him, and he willna escape from them easily. He'll ne'er see ye again.”

Kathy had never seen real evil, but she knew she was looking at it now. “The people didn't follow you yesterday. What makes you think they'll follow you now?”