The Royal Hunter (12 page)

She whistled for the two dogs, who were wrestling over a stick. She shook the box of dog bones and whistled again, laughing as they immediately dropped the stick and trotted over to her. “Always suckers for a treat, you two.” She tossed them each a small milk bone, then slapped her thigh and opened the gate that led to the inside runs. “Come on.” She’d put them next to each other, which seemed to be working out well.

Once they were safely in for the night, she made the rest of her rounds, checking for tipped-over water and any other possible problems. Satisfied that all was well, if not entirely peaceful, she let herself out the end door.

“Do the rowdy blodgers ever all sleep at the same time? A fella has a harder time sleeping out here in the middle of nowhere than in the city.”

Talia let out a little squeal, then swung around to find Archer leaning against the fence.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How long have you been there?”

He effortlessly vaulted his rangy body over the top. “Long enough,” he said.

She didn’t want to know long enough for what. She did know she wasn’t ready to be alone with him again. She had no experience dealing with men like him, not that she could imagine there were other men like him. “Why are you out here?”

“You didn’t think I was going to let you wander out here in the dark unprotected, did you?”

He’d made his case for staying and she’d grudgingly admitted to herself, especially after their talk
about Dideon and Emrys, that he might be right. But just because she needed his protection, didn’t mean she had to like it. “Well, I’m done now,” she said shortly, “so you can punch the clock.”

“I beg your pardon? Punch what?”

She looked to see if he was teasing her, but he appeared serious. “It’s an expression. Means ‘to clock out, punch your time card, stop working for the day.’ ”

He shrugged. “I don’t punch a clock, as you say. I work as long as there is work to be done.”

Lovely
. A workaholic mercenary. Just what she needed. “Well, you can do what you want. I’m heading in for the night.”

She glanced up to the house. The left tower-room window glowed. Baleweg was still up. And Archer had taken over the hammock on the porch. She’d offered him one of the other upstairs rooms that first night, when it became clear he was intending to stay along with Baleweg. But he’d told her that the hammock was the best place for him strategically. She’d shrugged and left him to it. Actually, she’d been relieved.

The idea of Archer under the same roof as herself, even though the house was enormous, was a little too unsettling. Not that knowing he was directly beneath her window had left her feeling all that settled.

“Don’t you name the little battlers?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

He nodded to the kennel, where the dogs were not so quietly settling in for the night. “The mongrels you so willingly give shelter to. You never call them by name.”

She definitely didn’t want to get into this discussion. Damn him for being so observant anyway. “I use general terms, like boy, girl, buddy, whatever.”

“Don’t they tell you their names, then?”

She looked sharply at him. “They don’t ‘tell’ me anything.”

He shrugged, not remotely abashed by her reaction. “I don’t claim to understand your gift. Not really.”

“Gift?” She wanted to laugh at that one. “It’s an ability, nothing more. I thought empaths were commonplace in your time.”

“Empaths exist, sure. But that doesn’t mean I know all about them or how it works. I don’t happen to know any personally. Until now.”

Was he asking? She didn’t know how she felt about explaining it to him. It was such a new experience, being treated so naturally. It made her feel oddly vulnerable, probably because he knew more about her, the real her, than anyone, and yet he was a total stranger to her.

He cocked his head to the side, a grin making his dimple wink at her. “A real battle going on in there.”

“What?”

“You really want to believe we’re making all this up.” He took another step closer. “Only maybe, just maybe, the idea that it might be true thrills you a little. Doesn’t it?” He took another step closer, and the air seemed to thicken, even though it was cooler now. “I think you want to believe there is a place where you fit in.” He stopped a mere foot away. “You aren’t all that well understood in this time, are you, Talia?”

Dear God, did he have to go and use her name like that? There was something about the way he said it, and it didn’t have everything to do with that flat Aussie accent, either.

“I can understand that, you know,” he went on. “I know what it is to be a misfit.”

She had a sudden fleeting sensation of that dark hollowness she’d almost touched. No, they weren’t remotely the same, no matter that they were both essentially loners in their respective worlds. She worked to put a sardonic edge to her tone. “I guess your line of work doesn’t exactly come rife with pals and coworkers, huh?”

He smiled, that cockeyed half-smile that deepened the little cleft in his chin. “Not so you would notice, no. But I was a misfit long before I found my walk in life. I imagine the same could be said of you. In fact, we probably both found our callings because we didn’t fit in, wouldn’t you say?”

She wanted to tell him to stop comparing himself to her, stop saying they were anything alike. But he’d moved even closer, somehow robbing her of what little rational thought she had left. She could only nod in response.

“And what about you? What about those pals and coworkers? Is there no one you trust with your secret?”

“Secret?” she managed. He was far too close.

“You don’t tell anyone, do you?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Is it because you fear they’ll abandon you? Or simply think you’re odd in the head?”

She smiled without thinking about it, then swallowed hard as she saw his eyes leap to life in response to it. She did try to move away, but he lifted his hand and gently brushed back a loose strand of hair that was dancing about in the night breeze.

“I do understand, Talia Trahaern. Everyone knows who we are as defined by our careers. We share that part of ourselves because it benefits us to do so. But we both have secrets, you and I, the things we keep locked in here.” He let the tendril drop and grazed the back of his fingertips across her heart.
“And I think your heart is more tender than you are willing to admit.”

He moved his hand away, and she had to catch herself from leaning forward.

He turned her hands palm up, cupped in his own. He was looking down at them as he spoke. “You don’t give them names because you’ll lose part of your heart to them if you do.” He glanced up into her eyes, then dropped her hands. “And you can’t risk your heart again, can you? Not ever.”

The hollow look she’d seen in his eyes during that brief glance brought her directly back to that instant she’d connected with him. Some part of her heart tightened before she pulled loose, both physically and emotionally. So they both kept their hearts safely tucked away. That was certainly a good thing.

She put some space between them, but had to clear her throat to speak. “I don’t give them names for the logical reason that naming a pet should be the right of the owner, a bond made between them. No point in confusing the poor thing by giving it something to recognize only to have someone come along and change it.” He wasn’t looking at her, which should have made her little speech easier, but it didn’t. “You better than anyone understand I have a special attachment to every animal here, whether I wish to or not. So naming them is of little consequence when it comes to risking my emotions.” Which was true, to a point.

That half-smile, the knowing one that made her feel naked and exposed, returned. But mercifully, he kept his hands to himself. “So defensive.”

She had to stop herself from crossing her arms over her chest. “You were the one poking and prodding. I was merely trying to answer you.”

“Why don’t you keep more of them for your own?”

The question caught her off guard. “What?”

He waved a hand to the land surrounding the house and the house itself. “Since you have all this space and feel as you do about rescuing the unwanted, I figured you’d have adopted a gaggle of them yourself.”

“Why all this concern about my life habits?”

He shrugged, but the intensity had returned. “I have to be alert to anything out of the ordinary. To understand that, I have to understand what ordinary is.” He said it matter-of-factly, but his eyes told a different story. He wasn’t merely making conversation. “Studying you and your setup here has left me with questions.”

She took a different tack. Let
him
answer some questions. “Speaking of animals, what happened to your dog?”

He looked totally blank for a second. “My dog?” Then his expression cleared. “You mean Ringer.”

“Yes, I believe that is what you called him once before. What was he? Some sort of convenient prop you used to meet me? And now that you’ve accomplished your invasion into my life, he is of no further use to you? What did you do to him, send him back to the future to fend for himself?”

“Send Ringer back to fend for himself?” He said it as though he couldn’t believe he’d heard her right. “I wouldn’t do that.” His shock was so sincere she had to believe him.

Her soft heart swelled. Just a little. “What did you expect me to think? I haven’t seen him since that day at the Lodge.” Why was
she
on the defensive again?

“I didn’t think it was your concern. You have enough mongrels to deal with, don’t you, now?”

Rather than being stung by his brush-off, she was intrigued. He seemed a bit … disconcerted.
Evasive even. Interesting. “You had no problem sticking your nose in my affairs. Where is he?”

Archer actually shifted his weight ever so slightly. He waved a hand, striving for a casualness she now knew he didn’t entirely feel. “Round and about. Likes to go on walkabout that one does.”

“He’s running loose?”

Archer propped his hands on his hips. “Well, he’s not exactly a threat to the wildlife or the population in general. And it’s not like you don’t have room for him to roam a bit. He doesn’t get much chance to run like this at home. I thought it would do him good.”

“I’m not worried what trouble he’ll make, I’m worried about the trouble that might find him, you idiot.” Archer’s eyebrows lifted at that one, but she continued on. “I don’t know how they handle pet ownership in Australia, or in Britain, or … or wherever you’re from, but here we are required to keep a handle on our pets. So they don’t end up needing my services. Or worse. There are natural predators out there, ones he might not be familiar with.”

“Trust me, Ringer can fend for himself quite well.” He folded his arms, no longer seeming off balance. “Where I come from,” he said, almost mockingly, “predators are a part of daily living. If he can make it there, I’m certain he can handle anything here. Ringer has a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.”

She shook her head in disgust. “When was the last time you saw him? How is he being fed? Are you sure he’s okay?”

Laughing, Archer stepped forward and lightly grasped her hands. He tugged her closer to him. It seemed an entirely natural gesture, as did the way she sort of fell against him, their body parts all
aligning so perfectly. It actually took her breath away.

“I think I just figured out why you don’t have animals in the house.”

There was nowhere to look but up into his dancing black eyes. Her breath caught in her chest. “I have a cat. Marble,” she managed.

“That’s not a real pet.”

“You want to tell him that? All twenty-eight pounds of him?”

“The way I hear it, he was Beatrice’s beast and, from the looks of him, quite able to take care of himself. I imagine he’d do just fine without you.” He moved even closer, tipping her head farther back. “But he chooses to stay with you.” He leaned down. “Wise choice, I’d say.”

Her breath caught the instant before his mouth covered hers. She’d known his intent, had seen it clearly in his dark eyes. But she hadn’t shoved him away, she hadn’t done any of the smart things some part of her mind should have screamed at her to do.

She swiftly realized that she didn’t need to worry about connecting to his feelings again. She was too busy wallowing in her own. The incredible warmth of his lips on hers, how firm they were, how well they matched hers, how they seemed to know her, as if he’d kissed her a thousand times before. It was glorious, intoxicating, wondrous. And extremely dangerous.

That last part was what made her pull away. Still, she wanted to reach up and touch her mouth. It felt like something foreign, strangely alive when she hadn’t even known it had been lying dormant all this time.

“They take it from you, don’t they, Tali?” he asked quietly, his gaze steady on hers. She felt as if he were the one looking into her soul. When she looked
away, he drew the tip of his finger along the side of her cheek, then along the lips he’d just thoroughly imprinted with his own. “You can’t have them under your own roof all the time because you feel too much of them, and it drains you. They tug at your strength, your heart, all the time.” He tipped up her chin and she chided herself for the glassy surface she knew he’d find in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I only wanted to understand you. I think maybe I do. A little bit more at any rate.”

Her senses reeled. “Archer, I—”

“Time to finish my rounds.”

“But—”

He dropped his mouth to hers for one last hard kiss. “I want you to head in.” He left her, moving back to the fence, which he leaped over as effortlessly as he’d done earlier.

She wanted to be angry that he’d come to understand her so clearly. Especially the part of her she’d kept locked away the farthest. She did good work here, satisfying and important. Yet there was a part of her that had always felt some lingering guilt. That she hadn’t been strong enough to put her abilities to use more directly.

Archer was the first one to make her feel like it was okay. The first one to truly understand why she’d chosen the path she had. And accept it.