The Pleasure Master (10 page)

Neil looked shocked.

“Gotta give you credit, though. You have balls. No man has talked to me like that in years and kept them.”

Neil glanced down. Probably to check that the body parts in question were still attached. Coco had that effect on men.

“Oh, and I'm only Coco to my friends. You may call me Ms. Jones, Attorney at Law. Tell Kathy she doesn't have much more play time. It's already January fourth. I'll talk to her later, and you can go to hell.”

Everyone stood in frozen silence as the disconnect click announced Coco had hung up.

January fourth?
How could it be January fourth
when—? Kathy felt Ian move closer. She didn't have to see him to know where he was,
what
he was. Even if her mind suggested this Pleasure Master stuff was all nonsense, her body, her senses recognized him.

She glanced up in time to catch his wicked grin.

“'Tis an unfortunate first meeting, Neil, but ye'll do better next time.”

Neil narrowed his gaze. “'Twould give me more joy to talk wi' one of Mad Mary's hens than to speak wi' that woman again. 'Tis glad I am she dwells in another kingdom, or I might throttle the bold wench.”

Kathy tried to tamp down her growing uneasiness. She didn't like the glitter in Ian's gaze or his expression of false sympathy.

“'Tis sad I am to hear ye say so, Neil, because I've chosen Coco as yer challenge. 'Twill take a
true
Pleasure Master's skill to win such a lass.”

Ian shifted closer to Kathy, close enough for his arm to slide along the silk covering her arm, close enough to feel her quiver at his touch, close enough to silently show his brother that Kathy was his.

“Ye wouldna do such a thing to me, Ian.” Neil gingerly handed the phone back to Kathy. “No man could seduce a demon voice coming from yon devil's toy. It isna a true test. I canna see or touch the lass.”

Ian narrowed his gaze. “Was it fair to choose for me a woman who proclaimed she had no interest in any man?”

The woman in question seemed to be enjoying their argument overmuch. “Well, at least you can touch me, Ian.”

Ian smiled at her. “Aye, that I can. And will.” He allowed his lids to drift half closed, imagining his hands, his mouth, on her smooth body. “Ye'll ne'er forget Ian Ross's touch.”

“Arrogant.” She moved away from him.

“Truthful.” It didn't matter how far she moved, how far she ran, he'd find her.

“I'm not going to argue over something that doesn't matter. I won't be here long enough for you to seduce me, and when I leave I'll take Coco with me.” She offered him a parting glare as she scooped up the soap, cloths, and a small object from the thing she called her purse, then headed for the tunnel leading to the pool. “Oh, and don't take my phone apart while I'm gone.”

Neil cast him a sharp glance. “She doesna sound like a lass whose father sent her here to learn the pleasures of a man's body.”

Ian shrugged. “She doesna wish to marry and doesna believe any man can bring her joy. 'Tis a difficult task Colin and ye have set me.”

Neil looked uncertain, but forged ahead. “Ye should prepare another to take yer place, Ian. What if Mackay captures ye? Or what if those from the kirk who wish ye dead succeed?”

“The Pleasure Master has been a part of the clan for nigh a hundred years. The people wouldna allow it.”
But what about Kathy of Hair?
The kirk
could accuse the lass of witchcraft without fear of retaliation. He must guard her well.

“Ye keep the secrets of many families, Ian. Their secrets would die wi' ye. 'Tis a tempting thought to some.”

Ian nodded. “No matter. There can be only one Pleasure Master.”

Neil's gaze turned calculating. “But ye could train another, just as Father trained ye. Ye have no son of yer own to pass the secrets to, so ye should train Colin or me to take yer place. 'Tis common sense.”

“Ye've given me much to think on, Neil.” He grinned at his brother. “Mayhap I'll do what ye wish. . . .”

Neil's eyes lit with triumph.

“After we've decided who is the true Pleasure Master.” He clapped Neil on the back. “Ye may visit often to speak wi' Coco. Tell Colin I'll speak wi' him today about his challenge.”

Neil drew in a deep breath and stared hard at his brother, then cast a meaningful glance at Peter and the phone. “The woman is verra strange, and the things she carries wi' her seem bewitched. Dinna forget I was there when ye first met. She appeared out of the mist wi' no sound. How did she reach us wi' no sound, no warning? Who really sent her, brother?” He smiled, then strode from the chamber.

Ian narrowed his gaze on Neil's departing back. Would his brother betray him if given the chance? Ian didn't know. But he trusted no one. Those who
trusted often ended up dead. Ian Ross intended to live a long, fruitful life.
Fruitful.
He smiled. Grabbing two candles, he headed down the tunnel Kathy had taken.

Drat it. Pen flashlights were not meant to illuminate stygian pools of water that probably housed any number of nameless nasties. No way was Kathy Bartlett climbing into that water. She'd bet its murky bottom was cluttered with the skeletal remains of foolish bathers.

Kathy dipped her hand into the water. Cool, but not as icy as she'd expected. Quickly, she knelt at the edge, took off one piece of clothing at a time, and washed as best she could. If she were still here tomorrow, she'd opt for the tub beside the fire.
Without
Ian Ross as resident voyeur.

She'd just finished rebuttoning her blouse when something stopped her. She heard nothing, but she still knew. Ian was coming. She shivered. It was crazy. She was the same person who had fallen asleep during a Metallica concert, yet she could
sense
when Ian was near.

Turning her head, she could see twin glowing lights moving down the tunnel toward her. In this place she could almost imagine a fairy-tale dragon with glowing eyes seeking her by the darkened pool.

She shook off her fanciful thoughts as he drew closer, and she could make out his dark silhouette. Narrowing her gaze, she stared at something small
moving behind him. It was hourglass-shaped, with a cat perched atop it.
Peter.

Great. Make this a three-ring circus. Couldn't a woman have any privacy in this blasted time?

“Have ye bathed yet, lass?” He strode to the side of the pool and placed his candles along the bank to illuminate it.

“Yes. Now go away.” How embarrassing. Now that she could see the pool, she realized it was only the size of a small pond. In the flickering candlelight, the pool and chamber looked innocuous.

Ian ignored her. “'Tis unfortunate I didna arrive sooner. Mayhap we could have bathed together.”

He didn't look at her, but she knew what he was thinking. “When frogs fly. Go play your bagpipe or storm a castle, but go away.”

“'Tis a cruel woman ye be.” He didn't sound very crushed. “But I must bathe before I slay my daily monster.” He shrugged, then took the soap and cloth from her. “If ye willna bathe wi' me, I must bathe alone.”

Kathy barely had time to close her gaping mouth before he'd undressed. She ought to look away. She slid her gaze across broad shoulders, muscular back, and buns to cry for gleaming golden in the candles' flames. But she couldn't. An experience like this came once in a lifetime. Good thing. Hyperventilation couldn't be healthy on a regular basis.

He strode into the water and stopped when he reached the middle of the pond. The water only reached his hips. He turned to face her.

Now
she would look away. But there were some things you couldn't turn from. She remembered her first trip to the Bronx Zoo. The tiger. Mom had warned her not to go near the cage, but she'd been hypnotized by the animal's untamed power. She'd inched closer. Then the tiger had looked at her, and she'd known that if he wanted to eat her, nothing could stop him. Not bars, not her mother. Nothing.

She felt that way now. In the shadows cast by the candlelight, Ian stared at her, silver gaze promising that when the time came, nothing she said, nothing she did, would make a difference.

Sleek, beautiful, dangerous. He stared at her across the chasm of more than four hundred years, and it was as though she looked into the eyes of that tiger again.

She shivered with delicious fear. Delicious? She had to be crazy.

Leaning back, she watched him splash water over his body, then soap himself. He slid the cloth over his arms, shoulders, torso.

Her breathing quickened as he washed lower. Now she'd look away. Okay, so she'd wait a little longer.

She held her breath as his hand paused over the shadowed part she couldn't quite see,
wanted
to see. Amazing. She'd never cared very much about seeing any part of old PMS.

“Ye're a bold lass, to watch a man so.” He didn't sound upset at the thought.

“Yes, well this is sort of like a virtual reality trip.
It's primitive here, so I figure it's okay to act a little primitive. I mean, I wouldn't do this back in New York.”
Weak, Bartlett.
“Umm, aren't you going to finish?”

His smile flashed white in the dimness. He drew the cloth slowly, lingeringly over himself. What she couldn't see, she imagined. She licked suddenly dry lips.

“Come to me, lass. Touch me. Know how much I want ye.” His voice was a low murmur, pulling her, making her want to throw her clothes off and wade into the pool.

And just when she felt she couldn't resist another moment, he laughed and broke whatever had stretched between them.

“Ye're not ready yet. But soon. Verra soon.”

“I wouldn't bet on it.” Her voice sounded weak, wimpy. How did he do that to her?

He splashed water over himself to rinse off, then waded to the shore.

Kathy tried to focus on his eyes, but his full lower lip, sensuous and kissable, kept distracting her. So she looked at his chest. His nipples were pebbled from the cold water, and she had an almost overwhelming urge to touch one with her tongue. Hmm, not a safe area. On to his stomach, which was only a short drive from his . . .

She looked quickly, then glanced away. He really
did
want her. The thought frightened and excited her.

He moved close. “Ye'll lay wi' me, Kathy of Hair.
When the time is right, when ye want me, ye canna deny me.”

“That'll be never, Ross.” No matter how crazy he made her, she had to keep up appearances, because as tempting as he was, Ian Ross was only about sex. Been there, done that.

But she wished he wouldn't stand so close. Close enough that she could feel his damp heat, smell the scent of clean male animal.
Close enough to feel his erection pressing against my hip.

Before she had time to react to the contact, he moved away. “'Tis time for Malin's swim.” He walked over to a patiently waiting Peter and scooped the cat off the toy's top.

She forced herself to focus only on his upper body. Below lay personal loss of composure. “Swim? Cats hate water.”

Ian waded back into the pool carrying Malin. “The cats brought back from the East by my great grandfather have a love of swimming. Malin is of their line, but he doesna do well wi' only three legs, so I help him.”

An important truth nudged at her until she couldn't ignore it. “You claim you don't love anyone, but you love Malin.”

He was silent as he lowered Malin into the water and supported the cat as he swam.

She thought he wasn't going to answer her until he finally spoke. “Ye're right. I hadna thought of it.”

Nothing more. He evidently wasn't going to explain.
After a few minutes, he lifted Malin from the water and made his way to the bank.

“Walking around naked in front of everyone doesn't bother you, does it?”
Don't come near me. Please don't come near me.

His gaze was puzzled. “In front of
everyone?
I see only ye.”

“There's Malin and Peter.” Said aloud it sounded sort of dumb, but dumb seemed to be an apt description for her this morning.

His lips curved in that particular smile that made her swallow her heart. “Malin doesna care, and Peter isna alive.” He glanced at Peter and his smile widened. “Besides, Peter's eyes are on top of his head. He canna see more than the ceiling, so I dinna need to feel shame.”

“I suppose so.” She cast Peter a sideways glance. Maybe it was his ability to move and speak, but there were moments when good old Peter made her uncomfortable. Not afraid, but . . . uneasy. Of course, everything in this strange time made her uneasy.

Ian rubbed one of the cloths over Malin to dry him, then set him back on top of Peter. Picking up the other cloth, he moved toward Kathy. To her relief, he stopped several feet away.

He held out the cloth. “Dry me, lass.”

It wasn't a request. It wasn't exactly an order. It was simply something he expected.

Well, he could drip-dry all day before she'd touch him.

“Ye want to, lass.” His voice lowered to that tempting murmur. “Run yer hands over my bare body. Know me. Ye willna be harmed. I wouldna touch ye if ye didna want it.”

“Right. No harm.” Was she crazy? No,
she
wasn't crazy, but her hands were because they took the cloth. Her feet were because they stepped close to him. “We have a situation here.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just explaining something to my mind.” Her mind had better deal with it. This was insurrection on a major scale. If her brain couldn't control her hands and feet, what
could
it control?

“Turn around.” When he obeyed, she slid the cloth across the smooth expanse of his back. Marveled at the delicious indentation at the base of his spine. Considered all the interesting things a woman could do with that indentation.