Hotter Than Hell (43 page)

Then Bern realized that the words he’d heard hadn’t been filtered through his translator implant: she’d spoken in English instead of the local lilting Celtic dialect.

He knew exactly who she was!

Her name was Virginia White, and though he’d never met her in the flesh he’d studied her holo image.

Hers, and all of the others on the missing team. He had his hands on one of their primary targets. Since he already held her, he was tempted to call for his men to cover his withdrawal. They could run out the gate and make tracks, anything to ensure her safety now that he’d found her.

Since that wasn’t the smart way to play it, he put her down. Her body slid slowly down his until her feet touched the ground. She was tall and willowy, her height another clue that she wasn’t from this time.

“You—” he began.

But before he could speak or she could answer, a hand landed on his shoulder.

Bern whirled around, his hand on his sword. Over the last six months, that had become second nature.

“What?” he demanded of the potbellied graybeard before him. The stranger wore a threadbare silk tunic. Since silk was a luxury rare in these parts since the Roman withdrawal, Bern guessed he was looking at the local chieftain. “My lord,” he continued, with a polite nod.

The chieftain’s frown turned into an effusive smile. “You’re quick, I see. Good. Good.” He glanced toward the hand Bern still rested on the pommel of his sword. “Welcome to Ched,” he went on. “Come to worship at the well, have you? For the festival?”

Bern nodded. He was aware that Virginia White had moved back into the shadow of an arched doorway. He wanted nothing more than to follow her, but he had to stay in character and deal with the local potentate first.

Bern brought out a small leather pouch, heavy with gold, and handed it over. “Please accept this small gift, in honor of the goddess and your hospitality.”

The chieftain tossed the little purse to feel its weight, glanced inside, and beamed.

He looked at Bern’s people—an obvious unit of soldiers—waiting by the gate, alert for Bern’s orders.

“Those are fine-looking lads you lead.”

“We come in peace for the festival,” Bern reassured the chieftain. Then he saw the speculative look in Ched’s eyes. He smiled. “But afterwards, our swords are for hire if you are interested.”

He hoped that made him sound like a friendly and useful fellow to the chieftain, just in case his unit needed an excuse to stay on after the festival. Though he hoped he could find out what Virginia White was up to before then.

Lord Ched’s grin widened. He put his arm around Bern. “Join me for some wine. What’s your name, lad?” he asked as he led Bern into the main hall.

Ginger considered going back to her duties at the spring, but curiosity got the better of her. That, and an irresistible craving not to let the man who named himself Bern out of her sight made her follow the men into the hall. For some reason being close to Bern made her feel as if she was not alone anymore, and she needed that nearness after all these months. She knew very well that any attraction to a man was foolish, and not even because intimacy with an indigenous resident was against Project rules.

If the gleam in Lord Ched’s eye was any indication, this dangerous stranger would soon be the Year King sharing the bed of his daughter Morga. Jealousy ripped through Ginger at the thought, but she knew it would be for the best. They needed a warrior hero right now and Bern looked to have all the qualifications for the job.

He was tall, dark, and handsome, with broad shoulders and big hands and the brightest, most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. There was an aura of steely danger around him that should have scared her to death, but instead it sent fireworks shooting through her. He wore a knee-length tunic that left his legs bare. Over it was metal-studded leather body armor buckled and strapped into place and a light woolen cape. Her fingers itched to pull off all those layers and thoroughly explore what she found underneath.

But they were in public. Even by the debased Roman standards still observed here, it was unseemly for a woman to jump a man in the middle of a meeting—unless she’d been purchased or hired for that purpose, of course.

Ched sent for his daughter and settled down to explain his plan to Bern over cups of strong wine, unwatered, as was the local custom. Effete Romans might drink their spirits diluted, but not Ched. Here business was usually conducted once the menfolk were well on the way to being drunk.

So Ginger stayed in the background to listen and watch. She took a seat at the side of the public space among a group of women working on spinning and embroidery. The men were barely into their second libation to the goddess when Morga came flouncing in.At least she’s dressed, Ginger thought. Morga was beautiful, knew it, and had no qualms about showing it even if she wasn’t lying naked on her back on the holy altar.

I live like a nun, Ginger thought, and she gets to whoop it up anywhere, any time.

Until a few minutes ago this hadn’t bothered Ginger a bit. Now she very nearly snarled as Morga caught sight of Bern, licked her perfect lips in appreciation, and made a beeline to sit beside him.

“Daughter,” Lord Ched announced once the girl was snuggled up against Bern’s side, “meet your new husband.”

Morga bounded to her feet, looking appalled. So did Bern.

“What?” Morga screamed.

“What?” Bern echoed.

His voice was firm, but anger crackled off him.

Morga gave Bern another once over, and her lips curled in disdain at the lack of signs of rank or fortune. “I don’t mind giving him a toss, but I like the husband I’ve got,” she told her father.

Lord Ched banged a fist on the table. “You’ll take the man I choose.”

“The goddess chose for me already.”

“Your Year King has already reigned too long. When this warrior challenges, the younger man will lose. Be prepared for it—be prepared to do your duty by your father, your goddess, and your people.”

He gestured toward Bern. “Now, be a proper priestess and take this fine bear of a man off to the bath.”

“You sound like a Roman,” the girl complained. “But this land is Celt again. And I’ll do no such thing as bathe a stranger.” She looked around haughtily, and pointed to Ginger. “There’s a priestess who obeys you. Let her service this great bear of yours.”

And, with that pronouncement, she flounced back out again, leaving everyone staring at Ginger.

Bern’s initial impulse was to protest all this nonsense about marriage, and bathing with buxom young women, but he let it go when the girl suggested Virginia White as her replacement. That situation had possibilities. It would be a good way to get White alone.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, and stepped forward to drag the stunned Virginia out of the crowd, his hand tight around her slender wrist. She looked at him with astonishment, and he had to fight off laughter as he caught an impression of her thinking about having a barbarian in her bathtub. He also noticed that she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea.

Warmth spread wherever they touched.

Hmmm…maybe they could turn this ridiculous situation into a bit of mutual fun.

“What are you waiting for, priestess?” the chieftain said. “Show the man the hospitality he deserves!”

“Come along,” Bern said. He pulled White along with him out of the hall.

Once out in the courtyard she got her voice back. “You’re in for a treat, warrior, for the Roman hypocaust is still working and the pool is deep, and hot. The baths draw as many visitors as the sacred spring, increasing the lord’s prestige and—”

“I’m not interested in a hot bath.”

She sniffed and wrinkled her pretty nose. “You should be.”

He laughed. “I guess I am a bit ripe from a few days on the road. My tunic could probably use burning, besides.”

“Where I come from that would be breaking a law against polluting the air.”

For a moment he’d let attraction get in the way of professionalism. This reminder that she was no local priestess brought Bern back to his duty. “Lead on to this bathhouse,” he growled.

He watched her walk ahead of him to the baths. She wasn’t a local, or even native to this time. I could have her , he thought. Then he reminded himself to concentrate on the mission. But he feared his body was going to overwhelm his brain at any moment.

Ginger was aware of the rough soldier’s gaze. She’d never been so instantly and dangerously attracted to a man before. All the rules about indigenous relations were being overruled by the demands of her body. She didn’t think she’d be able to keep her hands off this guy.

Conveniently, to keep up her cover as a priestess intact, she didn’t have any choice but to scrape his naked body down with scented oil and rinse him off.

Her job description was getting more attractive by the day.

She grinned with anticipation as they entered the bath. But her grin was wiped away and replaced with a surge of fear an instant after they stepped into the room.

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. At the same time he growled, “Out!” to the pair of waiting bath attendants. She heard the slap of their bare feet on the stone mosaic as they hurried out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded the moment they were alone.

“Only what my lord ordered—” Then she realized why her senses were in shock. “You’re speaking English!”

On a burst of sheer relief she grabbed him and kissed him.

What was a man to do when a woman flung herself against him and her soft lips pressed against his own? Then Bern didn’t care what anyone else might do. Her hips ground enticingly against his. Her mouth was delicious, and his tongue delved possessively into the sweet warmth. Her breasts pushed against his chest and he brought a hand up to cup the soft roundness, stroked a thumb across the hard nipple he could feel beneath her dress. He’d never wanted anyone so much or so quickly. He picked her up and tossed her into the water, took a moment to unfasten his sword belt and toss off his armor, then jumped in after her.

Though she was fully clothed, the wet dress clung to her body and outlined her breasts and hips in a way Bern found irresistible.

“People generally get undressed before bathing,” she said.

“And before sex, too.”

She laughed, and reached below the water to grab onto her soaked skirt. “Wet wool,” she muttered.

“Now I smell like a sheep.” She gave him a once-over.

“Does that make me a ram?”

She was holding the dress up around her thighs. He caught a glimpse of pale skin through the steaming water. “Don’t stop now,” he urged. He wanted her naked.

She inched up the skirt some more.

“Oh, lord,” he groaned. He splashed through the waist-deep pool and grabbed her. “Don’t tease me, woman.”

She threw back her head and laughed, and he took the opportunity to kiss the base of her throat.

“Help me,” she said. “This thing weighs a ton.”

It took him a moment to realize that she was talking about her wet dress, but once he caught on he grabbed a double handful of soaking wool and yanked while she pulled and squirmed.

Soon he had her as naked as he wanted her. The water gave her skin a translucent sheen.

“You look like milk in moonlight,” he said. Then he remembered her name. White. “You look like your name, Dr. Virginia White.”

“Ginger,” she answered instantly. “No one calls me Virgin—of course around here no one calls me Ginger, either.”

“What do they call you?” he asked, while his hands got very busy.

She drew back. “Priestess,” she answered. “Or the Lady of the White Bird Spring when they’re being formal.” She ran her hands down his chest, admiring the rippling muscle beneath his damp tunic. “Who are you?”

He needed to know how she’d gotten separated from her team, how she’d gotten here, and why she was part of the indigenous power structure. But he needed something else even more right now.

“Later, he said. “We can get to it much later…” He pressed his hips against her. “Touch me,” he demanded. He circled her nipples with his thumbs.

She found the hem of his tunic, and pulled it above his hips. Once his cock was free she stroked him slowly from his balls to the throbbing tip. Ginger loved the heat of him, the weight and thickness, the velvet over steel feel of him in her hand.

But she wanted him inside her even more.

She backed up a few steps to the edge of pool, pulling him with her.

When they reached the side of the bath, he cupped her ass and lifted her onto the mosaic edge. She leaned backwards on her arms and spread her legs.

He filled her in one hard thrust.

Then both of them forgot everything else.

He collapsed on top of her for a long time afterwards, unwilling to move away from her warmth. He reveled in the feel of her soft breasts and the scent of her skin. He didn’t know why, but the sound of her heartbeat against his ear made him feel like he was home.

Then she laughed and the sound brought Bern back into the here and now. He lifted his head to look at her.

“What?”

“Lord Ched sent me in here with you to make Morga jealous.” She grinned at him. “She’d really be jealous if she knew what we’ve been doing.”

“What’s with the chieftain wanting me to marry his daughter?” Bern asked.

“I suppose that’s my fault. It’s a local custom. He needs somebody to rally the troops,” she answered.

“He’s looking for a warrior to replace the Year King, and I saw you in the well when he asked who could lead his army. So—”

“I think we’ve both been in the past too long,” he said. “Because what you just said seems to make sense to you, and it almost makes sense to me.”

Tears suddenly welled in her big blue eyes. “You’re really from my time.” The relief in her voice bordered on worship.

He kissed her cheeks, tasting the salt from her tears.

“Happy to be of service,” he said.

“You’re not from my team,” she said. “I would have remembered you. How do you know my name?

What are you doing here?”

He should have explained all that to her already. He should have gotten a debriefing from her. Duty should have come before sex.