The Pleasure Master (12 page)

“Come wi' me, Kathy.” His voice held the flavor of smooth whiskey. Just the memory of it would warm her on a cold New York night.

“Fine. We'll go to the village, I'll blend in with the local populace, and you can deliver the bad news to your loving brother. Simple.” There was
nothing simple about it, and Kathy knew Ian hadn't been asking her to come with him to the village.

Ian's soft chuckle mocked her attempt to ignore what he'd meant, what he
was.

Peter's lights flashed as he added his own words of caution. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

“Give me a break, Peter. Don't you have any quotes that aren't oozing melodrama?” The truth? She thought Peter's comment was right on the money.

As she followed Ian out of the cave, then watched him block the entrance, she considered the mental stability of someone who'd talk to a toy.

The long walk to the village gave her plenty of time to try to figure out why she was in sixteenth-century Scotland. In fact, she thought about it until she started to get a headache. With only a few Advil in her purse back in Ian's cave, she thought she'd better discourage unnecessary headaches.

So she thought about Ian. That gave her an ache in an entirely different part of her body. How could he do that without even touching her, without even
looking
at her?

Maybe old PMS's research into all things sexual really meant squat. Maybe reading a bunch of books and then proclaiming yourself sexy didn't matter if you didn't have sexy equipment and a sensual aura. Kathy didn't know what kind of aura Ian Ross had, but she could feel it even as she walked five feet behind him.

She admired his smooth confident stride, the lift of his long hair in the light breeze, the sense of
controlled violence about him. Controlled violence? Yes, it was there. Kathy considered herself a millennium woman, but she had to admit that in this place, in this time, a dangerous man excited her. He was a beautiful animal at home in his environment.
But it isn't your environment, remember.

They'd reached the top of a small hill, and Ian paused to look in every direction. Kathy puffed as she finally caught up with him. She was used to being on her feet all day, but all this walking was making her legs ache.

“What're you looking for?” All she could see were more green hills, rocks, and small streams. Scenic but bleak, empty.

“I must guard against those who would attack me.”

“Okay, so I'm not familiar with your particular situation, but you seem a little paranoid to me. Don't you trust anyone?”

“I trust Malin. I trust my horse, e'en though he didna battle overmuch when the Mackays took him. I dinna trust any humans.”

“Don't you think it's a little strange that you ask women to trust you with their bodies, their secrets, and yet you don't trust anyone?”
Gotcha.
Let him try to wiggle out of that one.

His smile was the sun on an ocean beach. Beautiful, warm, but dangerous if you made the mistake of allowing it to lull you to sleep. “I ask women to trust my body, my knowledge, and my promise as
Pleasure Master to guard their secrets. 'Twould be foolish to trust further.”

She knew she shouldn't take it personally, that his mistrust was Ian Ross's character flaw, but it still rankled. “I know you don't think I come from the year 2001. What would it take for you to believe me?”

His gaze seared her, looked into her soul and found it wanting. “I'd need to trust ye, lass.” He shrugged. “'Tis a thing that willna happen.”

“Right. No trust. Foolish of me to ask.”

Seemingly satisfied with his search, he continued along the path.

Kathy groaned as she tagged along, stumbling over small rocks and grumbling about the cold.

He glanced at her and grinned. “'Tis a fine summer day. Ye're lucky 'tis not winter.”

“Hmmph.” She knew she was being bitchy. She knew this wasn't his fault. But he was convenient, and she wanted to complain. “Right now, I should be finishing up Mrs. Kierney's hair, then going to Coco's for dinner.”

“If it's hunger ye feel, we'll eat at Mad Mary's.”

She caught a glimpse of the village in the distance. “Mad Mary? Umm, that's a . . . distinctive name.”

“Mary is our healer. Many find her strange.” He cast Kathy a wicked smile. “Ye'll have much in common.”

“I don't think so.” She was in no mood to agree with anything Ian Ross said right now. She was
tired, she was cranky, and she wanted to go home to her cozy apartment.

“Aye, ye will. Mary speaks wi' her hens, and ye talk to yer toys. 'Tis alike ye are.” He guided her down the rutted, muddy road leading to one of the cottages.

Kathy would have delivered a to-the-point New York reply, but she was too busy staring at the people who were staring at her, particularly the women, particularly their hair.

No one spoke to her, and everyone seemed anxious to keep a safe distance away. Ian prayed she'd say nothing foolish. The people accepted him because the Pleasure Master had been part of their lives for so long. They had no reason to accept Kathy's strangeness.

Ian exhaled sharply when they'd finally reached the safety of Colin's cottage. His brother didn't rise early unless there was pressing need, so he had no fear that Colin wouldn't be within.

Bleary-eyed, Colin opened his door and allowed them to enter. “'Tis past time ye told me my challenge, Ian. ‘Tisn't fair that Neil and ye have already started yer quests.”

Kathy moved around the room, missing no detail. She paused at Colin's words. “Don't worry, Colin. No one's made it to first base yet.”

Colin blinked at her. “First base? What is—”

“Forget it,” Ian suggested.

Kathy grinned at Ian. “You're learning, Ross.”

“I've decided yer challenge, Colin.”

Colin smiled smugly. “It canna be more difficult
than the one ye gave Neil. 'Tis not likely he'll triumph.”

“I'd give him a zero chance,” Kathy offered as she ran her hand over the bagpipes sitting in the corner. “Do you play the bagpipes, Colin?”

“Aye.” He turned his attention back to Ian. “What say ye, brother?”

Ian couldn't remember a time when he'd enjoyed the telling of anything more. “Yer challenge is to woo Mad Mary.”

Colin's face lost all color beneath his beard. “Ye jest. No man has e'er bedded Mad Mary.”

Ian shook his head in mock sadness. “I dinna think ye need worry overmuch about bedding her. I doubt ye'll live that long.”

Colin made a choking sound. “Ye canna—”

“I can, Colin. 'Tis my right. As ye've chosen for me, I've chosen for ye.” He turned to where Kathy stood staring, fascinated at Colin's now flushed face. “'Tis time to leave, Kathy.”

Colin said nothing as they left. Ian suspected his brother was incapable of speech.

“That was pretty mean, Ian.” Kathy trotted to keep up with him. He'd liked it better when she'd trailed behind. “I mean, choosing an old wrinkled crone for Colin. At least Coco's attractive. And how's Colin supposed to get anywhere with someone who's crazy?”

“Ye talk too much, Kathy of Hair.” He walked faster, hoping she'd fall behind.

“You answer too little, Ian Ross.” She trotted faster to keep up.

Relieved, he left the village and climbed the hill to where Mary's house stood alone. He didn't bother knocking on the door because he knew Mary would be tending to the small herb garden behind her cottage. Rounding the corner of the house, he saw Mary bent over one of her plants.

“I mean, how do you communicate with someone who talks to chickens? At her age, I'd suspect senility. The poor woman probably needs to be in an assisted living facility, with medical help available. . . .”

Mary straightened, then smiled when she saw Ian. “Welcome, Ian.”

Ian turned to where Kathy stood with an open mouth and unfinished sentence. “Kathy of Hair, meet Mad Mary.”

Mad Mary was young, she was beautiful, and Kathy was embarrassed by all the preconceptions she'd voiced. Loudly.

Mary approached them, brushing the soil from her hands. “Ye've brought the woman to me, Ian.”

The woman.
Mary's words sounded impersonal, but the gaze she fixed on Ian was anything but. Kathy felt a twinge of something she wasn't ready to identify.

“Aye. This is Kathy of Hair.” The smile he offered Mary was open, devastating.

“Welcome to my home, Kathy of Hair.”

Mary's greeting sounded sincere, her smile was warm, and her gaze was clear and sane. Kathy felt the heat rising to her face. She'd prejudged Mary just as the villagers were probably doing to her.
“Thanks. Ian says you're a healer. I guess you've treated him for a few aches and pains, maybe a few battle wounds?”

Okay, so she was fishing, but if Ian wouldn't tell her much about himself, maybe others would.

“Aye, a few. Though not all wounds can be treated wi' my herbs.”

Great. What was that supposed to mean?

“I've come to warn ye, Mary.”

Ian's comment effectively ended the fascinating discussion of his wounds. Probably his intent.

“I've given Colin the task of wooing ye as his challenge. He wasna overly pleased.”

Mary frowned. “Ye're a wicked man, Ian Ross. I dinna need Colin following me around like a wee pup.”

Ian's smile made wicked look awfully inviting. “He'll need to fortify himself wi' some strong drink before beginning his quest. Ye'll be safe for a few days.”

While the conversation flowed over her, Kathy studied Mary. Pale skin, hazel eyes, and black hair falling to the middle of her back made for a striking combination. Clean, shining hair. A rarity. Ian and Mary were the only ones who seemed concerned with cleanliness around here.

“Kathy has need of clothing and footwear. Can ye help?”

Mary asked no questions, but merely nodded.

Ian smiled his special smile that promised even the depths of hell would be heaven with him, and
Kathy watched the change in Mary's eyes. The softening, the
desire.

Kathy couldn't imagine any woman being immune to his brand of assault. Except her, of course. She recognized what he did with that smile, so she was safe. Sort of.

“I'll leave ye to yer garden. Dinna let Colin fash ye.” Ian glanced at Kathy. “I'll wait for ye on the path.” He strode away.

Kathy waited until he was out of earshot. “I guess you've known Ian a long time.”

“Aye.” Mary looked amused as she led Kathy into her cottage. Kathy glanced around at the herbs drying, the hearth, the few pieces of furniture, and wondered what she'd do if she had to live this way for the rest of her life.
The rest of her life.
She shuddered.

She couldn't go there right now. “Umm. He hasn't told me much about himself.”
Subtle, Bartlett. Really subtle.

Mary gazed in the direction Ian had gone. “If there were a thousand men gathered for a woman to choose from, she'd choose Ian. 'Tis his special gift to draw women to him.” Her gaze turned pensive. “'Tis also his curse.”

Well, that was a big help. “Right. A special gift.” She accepted the things Mary handed her. “Thank you for not asking questions.”

“As ye have?” She offered Kathy a wide grin.

“As I have.” She smiled back at Mary. “Oh, I was wondering whether you could help me with a few more little things.”

A few minutes later, Kathy left Mary's cottage clutching the clothes, a piece of bread, and some leaves to use with a twig in place of her toothbrush. Colgate could make a fortune here. At least her teeth wouldn't rot and fall out. Mary had assured her that it didn't get warm enough for Kathy to worry “overmuch” about underarm odor. Kathy wasn't reassured as she waved to Mary. “I hope I'll see you again.”

Mary smiled gently. “Ye will.”

Kathy scarfed down the bread as she trudged after Ian. Why was she here? She didn't have any special gifts. Sure, making women's hair look great was a life skill, but not important on a saving-civilization-from-certain-doom scale.

A mistake? At this very moment could the heavenly host be searching frantically for that pesky human they'd misplaced?

She discarded possibilities, leaving a trail of despair all the way back to Ian's cave.

“I'm sorry I didna ask Mary to feed ye. If ye need to wash the bread down, ye may have whiskey or water. I'll get ye some milk when I visit the village next. If ye desire anything more, I'll show ye some leaves that were given to me. The woman said they would make a fine brew. I havena tried them.”

Leaves? No beans? Dammit, she needed
coffee
in the morning.

“God's teeth, canna a man leave his dwelling wi'out fear of knaves?”

Kathy glanced up, startled from her misery. “Knaves? Where? Where?”

“Someone is in the cave.”

He was already striding down the tunnel toward the main chamber when she finally realized the cave entrance had been open. Peter. Was Peter safe? She hurried after Ian.

Peter met her, amber lights blinking, just as she reached the living area.

Picking him up, she hugged him tightly. “Thank God you're okay.”

“A bunch of hokey religions and ancient weapons ain't no match for a good blaster at your side, kid.”

Kathy set Peter down, then frowned at him. “Right. Blasters. I'll remember that. Guess you've watched
Star Wars
a few times.” She was doing it again, talking to a toy.

But all thoughts of Peter vanished as she glanced around the room. Neil sat on the cushions holding her cell phone and bellowing into it. His face was cherry red. He must be talking to Coco.

Ian was busy trying to disentangle Malin from Neil's hair while the cat growled his displeasure at being deprived of his prey.