Timeless Desire (34 page)

“You make love like a twenty-first-century man,” she said, smiling.

One eye slitted open. “Tis a compliment?”

“Of course.”

The eye closed.

“Though I didn’t exactly mean it that way.”

Both eyes opened. “Oh?”

“You make love very well,” she added quickly. “I mean, I hope you could tell I liked it.”

The color rose on his cheeks. “I liked it, too.”

“But I guess I expected it to be . . . different.” She met his eyes shyly. “I wasn’t sure if people of the eighteenth century . . . knew as much.”

He snorted.

“What?”

“You are under the impression the people of your time have gotten a leg up on things, are you?”

She threw him a look on catching the double entendre, which he ignored. “Yes. I mean, obviously.”

“
Obviously
?”

“You don’t think an extra three hundred years makes a difference?”

“In something that’s been going on between men and women since Adam and Eve. No, I do not.”

“Seriously?” She sat up, tucking the sheet under her arms. “With all due respect, I think you’re wrong. I know for a fact that the people of the twenty-first century have a much wider, er, range of tastes. I think mores have loosened up enough so that people don’t worry so much about what’s right or wrong anymore—as if there was ever anything one could do wrong in bed.”

“Oh, there are quite a few things one can do wrong in bed,” he said. “It took me several years and a number of very disappointed faces before I began to fully understand what they were.”

Panna smiled. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but I don’t think it’s true. Like you, I think the pleasures of a bed are limitless. However, I believe people have understood that for quite a while.”

She considered the shocking things she had seen on TV or read in books. “That’s simply not possible. I mean, c’mon. What’s the most outrageous thing you’ve ever done?”

“Is this a contest?”

Panna thought of the Cleopatra costume that had turned a drive home from Charlie’s sister’s Halloween party into a long and very public game of Riding Caesar’s Charger. “Um . . .”

“Uh-huh,” he said smugly. “That’s what I expected.”

“No, no. I’m game. Go.”

“And to the winner?” he asked.

“To the winner goes the satisfaction of . . .” The gleam in his eyes disconcerted her. “. . . the satisfaction of . . .”

“Choosing the next game?”

She felt a slightly terrifying frisson go through her. “Sure,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips.

“My tale involves three.”

Panna covered her face with her hands and collapsed on the pillow.

“You’ll tell me if you wish me to stop, aye?”

The trouble was she didn’t.

“An acquaintance of mine—let us call her Maria—was a woman of curiosity and varied tastes. Twas her express wish I witness her and her cousin explore, shall we say, the limits of their family bond.”

“She
slept
with her cousin?”

“I’m afraid there was to be very little sleeping involved.”

“And he agreed?”

“‘He’? Maria’s cousin would be offended.”

Two
women?
Oh, God, I’m hosed.

“These limits, it seemed, were ones they had tested with great success before. However, they had come to hear a rumor that gentlemen, whom they heretofore assumed would be put off by their friendly experimentation, would in fact find it of the utmost interest, an idea they could hardly believe.”

“And you were willing to help them settle the issue?”

“Twas a matter of some import to Maria.”

“You are too kind.”

“Thank you.”

“Maria’s cousin—Louise, I believe her name was—was unwilling, however, to accept my word for it, either before or after. As she said, ‘One might be willing to lie in order to preserve the fragile feelings of one’s companions.’ And so they imagined a situation in which my words would play no part.”

Oh. My. God.

“Instead,” he continued, “Maria rigged a rather elaborate, mmm . . . perhaps ‘maypole’ is the best way to describe it. Twas a full yard of pink ribbon wrapped carefully and may I say rather tightly around—”

“I get the picture.”

“But their triumph was a small bell—I do believe it came off of one of Maria’s cats—which hung to the side, rather like a bloom on a lady’s cap. Without any words on my part, the bell would either ring or not, and Maria and Louise would have their answer.”

Panna pressed her lips into a line. “Ingenious.”

He laughed. “So I thought as well.”

She sighed with comic weariness and snuggled close to him. “So you’re actually going to make me ask?”

“Ask what?” he said innocently.

“If the bell sounded.”

“I believe ‘a peal of St. Stephen’s’ was the phrase Louise used to describe it.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t ‘appeal of St. Stephen’? I understand he was rather tall and plain looking.”

Jamie began to tickle her.

“Stop, stop! I give up.”

Jamie freed her and stretched out again.

“Though it certainly explains your fascination with ribbons,” she said. He went to tickle her again, but she rolled out of reach.

“Come, lass,” he said, pulling her toward him. “Tis your turn.”

“How could I top that?”

“Well, there is one way.”

“Hmmm.”

“Shall we consider the issue settled, then?”

“I still think—”

He gave her a dangerous look.

“—that you’re right. Very little has changed.”

“Good girl.” He clasped her hand and lifted it slightly to admire the ring.

Tiny sparks of green fire danced in the center of the cabochon. “I have to admit, your grandfather has excellent taste.”

“It helps to be as rich as Croesus.”

“To me it looks like the hill your castle sits on.”

“Your castle now, too, Panna.” He got up on an elbow and brought her hand to his lips. His eyes were almost the color of the sky now, filled with the light from the windows. “Will you stay with me, lass? Here in my time?”

This was not the first time the thought had crossed her mind. There was a gravitas to the place that had drawn her in even before she had found herself falling in love with Jamie. The daily life-or-death struggles were a far cry from her world of books and library administration. Poor, sweet Steve. He hadn’t known when he dropped her off at the library Friday night after the disastrous blind date at Marie’s house that she’d be disappearing forever.

Oh, God, disappearing forever.

“What is it?” Jamie released her hand.

“I would like to stay with you, Jamie—”

“But?”

“No. No ‘but.’ It’s just that the last person to see me was this really sweet guy named Steve—”

“Ah.”

“No, it’s not like that . . . though I suppose it might have been. He was very good to me. Do you have blind dates here?”

Jamie frowned. “Blind? Like Tiresias? Or the Cyclops after Odysseus put the flaming stake in his eye?”

“It’s not quite that bad, but it’s close. A blind date is when a friend sets you up with a person you haven’t met but who the friend thinks would be a good match for you.”

“Oh, that. Aye, it happens.”

“Well, that’s what Steve was. The trouble is, if I don’t show up again, he may be in trouble, since he was the last person to see me. But I suppose we don’t need to worry. I mean, it isn’t like I’d never return. The passageway is there. I’d just have to think of a reason for going away for long stretches—you know, maybe marrying a man from England, which
is
true, after all. And in any case, I’d want to see my brothers and their families occasionally, and—What? What is it?”

Jamie had draped his legs over the side of the bed and was staring, shoulders sagging, at the floor. He shook his head. “You can’t go back. Or, rather, you can, but if you do, you can never return.”

“What? No. I’ve already come back twice.”

“Aye, and three times is the limit. Tis what Undine says.”

“Your friend.”

“She is a naiad, or so she says. And sometimes I believe her. But she knows the ways of the unseen world. If she is right, you may stay here or return to your time, but if you return, the portal will be closed to you and you will never be able to return.”

Panna shook her head, confused. She’d seen a naiad sculpture in a fountain once in Rome—a lithe, sensuous woman curled temptingly across a giant fish—and Panna had some idea they were fairies who made their homes in water; but to find a self-professed one living in northern England . . .

“If she’s right,” Panna said. “You said it yourself. She may not be.”

A light knock sounded, followed by a barely audible “I am here to make the bed.”

“One moment,” Jamie called out. “Indeed, she may not be right,” he said to Panna. Then he gave her a mournful look and reached for his breeks. “But is that really something we wish to test?”

J
AMIE REACHED FOR THE KNOB
. T
HE LAST HOUR HAD BEEN THE
happiest of his life, and now he might lose it all. He couldn’t deny Panna her chance to return. He, more than anyone, knew what it meant to be torn from the people you loved and left alone in the world. But to have felt this elation and then have it torn away? It would be too cruel to bear.

The servant on the other side of the door held an armload of linens. Jamie had gotten Panna into her shift, and he hoped the woman could help Panna with the gown. The men in whose care he had left it stood eyeing him from the far end of the hall. He signaled, and one lumbered over with the garment balled up in his arms.

“Did you enjoy your honeymoon, laddie?”

Jamie cringed. He was sorry to have had to expose Panna to such prurient remarks. On the other hand, he wouldn’t have chosen to forgo the hour, not for all the tin in Cornwall— and he didn’t think Panna would have, either.

“The privacy was much appreciated,” Jamie said, taking the dress. “Thank you.”

“What’s she doing here?” the man demanded, pointing at the servant, who looked over her shoulder at Jamie.

“She’s making our bed.” Had they not seen the woman go by?

“You are allowed no visitors.”

“She’s hardly a visitor.” Jamie dug in his pocket for a coin. He did not usually tip servants, but there was something about the way she’d met his eyes . . .

The woman finished tucking the coverlet around the mattress and wiped her hands on her apron.

“Thank you,” Jamie said, extending his hand.

The woman reached for the coin and curtsied. Jamie passed between the guard and the woman as she took it and stepped toward Panna, who stood with a blanket around her.

The guard escorted the servant out, and Jamie hurried to the door to watch them go. The woman followed the man to the end of the hall, pausing only briefly to glance at a narrow door Jamie had assumed was a closet.

He closed the bedroom door and looked at the folded note in his hand.

“What’s that?” Panna said.

“I don’t know.” He opened it and read.

Waiting a mile down the Edinburgh road with a horse. Adderly knows you’re at Nunquam. A warrant has been issued for your arrest. Advise.

—C

Bridgewater sank onto the bed. Everything was forfeit. His wealth, his home, his commission, Panna. And perhaps his life.

“Jamie, what?”

He handed her the note. His only duty now was to protect her.

She scanned the paper. “Does this mean you’re in trouble?”

“Put on your gown. We must go.”

“Who was she?” Panna asked, handing back the note.

“Clare’s cousin’s husband’s sister. The one who got word to Clare that the clans had been called. At least, I presume she is. If she was able to get to us without the guards seeing her, it must be possible for us to get out the same way.” He stuffed the note in his pocket.

The door swung open and the guards entered.

Jamie leapt to his feet, putting his body between Panna and their visitors. “I paid for my privacy,” he said sharply.

“English money means very little here,” the shorter man said. “Not when your grandfather has sent for you.”

“My grandfather can go hang,” Jamie said, reaching for a boot. “And so can you.”

He heard Panna’s choked gasp but didn’t see the swing. The man’s blow caught him on the jaw, knocking him onto the bed.

“Tis impolite to speak ill of your host,” the man said. “Or did your father not teach you that?”

Jamie rubbed his chin and stared at the blood on his palm. He flew to his feet in a cold rage, delivering a brutal blow to the man’s stomach. But when he turned, he was looking into the barrel of the other man’s pistol.

“Come,” the taller man said, with a leering smile. “We’ll see who shall hang.”

The guard who’d been punched, now on all fours, vomited. “Bastard.” He staggered to his feet and caught Panna by the hair. “You have such a pretty mouth. I wonder if your husband knows what to do with it.” He grabbed her hair and forced her onto the bed, then reached for his breek buttons.