The Pleasure Master (26 page)

There was a mad glint in the priest's gaze. “They are all weak. Vessels of Satan. I'll kill ye now and no one will e'er know. They'll think ye returned to yer own land.”

“I dinna think so, coward.” Neil's voice shook with rage.

Kathy turned to see Neil striding toward the
priest while Peter toddled behind. She let out the breath she'd been holding and moved toward Neil.

“He helped the Mackays capture Ian. What'll we do?”

Neil didn't answer as he strode past her and reached the priest before he could flee. Neil swung his fist, and the priest fell without uttering a word.

Peter stood over the fallen man. “I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake. But in the meantime, rest well, and dream of large women.”

Neil turned to Kathy. “Ye'll not do a thing, lass. Stay in the cave where ye're safe. Ian would want it so. I'll take this craven back on my horse and gather the men to rescue Ian. The Mackays willna keep my brother.”

Kathy watched Neil heave the priest over his shoulder like a sack of fertilizer, then stride toward the front of the cave, where he'd left his horse. She had a feeling the priest wouldn't even have a flock of pigeons left by the time Neil got through telling everyone what he'd done.

His brother.
Ian hadn't said he'd rescue the Pleasure Master, he'd said he'd rescue his brother. Ian would want to know that, and she intended to tell him. Soon.

No way was she going to sit around feeling safe while Neil went all the way back to the village to rouse the rescue force. That would take a while, and God knows what the Mackays could be doing to Ian in the meantime.

Kathy didn't think of herself as a brave person,
but it was amazing how fierce she felt where Ian was concerned. She had her own army, an army of toys that in its way could be more effective than a score of bellowing Highlanders. Fear was a powerful weapon.

Without giving herself time to consider the possible consequences, she ran into the cave and emptied her backpack of everything except her mousse and butane curling iron. The curling iron was the closest thing she had to a real weapon.

Then she stuffed as many toys as she could into the backpack, along with something to eat, and tied one last toy to her waist. Satisfied, she put on the backpack.

Finally, she picked up her shell necklace and carefully fastened it around her neck.
Ye'll feel strong when ye wear it, as ye did wi' the one yer father gave ye
.

She paused before Suzy Sunshine. “You hold the fort here.”
In case I don't come back. In case you're the only thing left to remind Ian of me
.

“I loooove you.”

Kathy smiled as she headed toward Ian's horse.

She stopped smiling the minute he came in sight. Now what? She'd found where Ian kept the saddle and stuff, but this would be like trying to saddle a tiger. Not a fun thought.

Okay, she'd be strong, determined.
Scared.

“Look, horse. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. But if you don't let me ride you, I'm going to kick your Scottish butt.”

The horse had pinned his ears back the moment
Kathy approached him, but at the sound of her voice, his ears pricked forward. Hmm. Obviously a male who liked an assertive woman.

A half-hour later, she'd managed to get the horse ready with only a stepped-on foot and nipped shoulder to show for the ordeal. Fair exchange as far as Kathy was concerned.

Leading the horse over to a large boulder where she'd put Peter and Malin, Kathy climbed to the top of the rock and slid onto the horse's back, then waited for the explosion. It didn't come. For some reason known only to the god-of-cantankerous-horses, Ian's horse had decided to humor her.

Sighing, she set Peter and Malin in front of her. She knew why she was taking Peter. If he didn't scare the Mackays to death, he'd talk them into an early grave. But Malin? No logical reason, except something in her knew Malin would want to be there for Ian.

If she could keep the horse to a walk, and if she could follow the faint trail, and if she didn't fall off, she might be able to help Ian. A lot of ifs.

Hours later, she finished munching on the bannock she'd brought with her as she stared down at a small abandoned cottage with at least ten Mackays sitting outside it. Thank heavens they'd decided to rest, because her abused bottom was reminding her why she'd said she'd never climb on Ian's horse again.

She didn't see Ian, so they must have him inside. The food sat like a lump of dough in her stomach as she decided on a course of action. Brave and
fearless seemed easy when the danger was at a distance. Now? She was scared witless.

She'd have to make her move before they reached home. Ten Mackays were a lot better odds than the whole clan would be. This would probably be her best shot at rescuing Ian.

One of the Mackays took out his knife and began cleaning it. Kathy's imagination supplied the dried blood. She swallowed to rid her throat of the boulder lodged there.

Why the heck was she doing this? She'd known when she climbed on the horse, but she couldn't quite remember now. Oh, got it. A night on that incredible bed. And a night on the bed wouldn't be much fun without Ian, so of course she had to rescue him. Besides, she owed Ian. He was her protector, her . . . friend, and it was her duty to free him. There, all neat and tidy.

A plan. She needed a plan. Kathy forced her thoughts away from the truth that whispered around the corners in her mind.

How about a decoy? Something that would draw away the men stationed outside the cottage without alerting anyone inside. Something nonthreatening.

Lowering Peter and Malin onto a convenient tree stump, she slid from the horse's back and opened her backpack, then rooted around inside. Food. Those men must be as hungry as she'd been, and they hadn't stopped to eat. An easy meal might be tempting. Something fresh and yummy like . . . roast duck. With a flourish, she pulled out two toy ducks. “I hope you guys have loud quackers.”

She didn't think too far ahead as she pushed the button at the bottom of each. If she thought too much ahead, she'd imagine fifty more Mackays inside the cottage, fifty more Mackays bursting through the door brandishing foot-long bloody knives in their fists. Nope, thinking ahead was bad.

At the first quack, she turned to lead the horse away, then stopped. She frowned. The quacking sort of had a rhythm, and sort of sounded like words. Kathy closed her eyes, concentrated, then groaned.
Please, God, no.
But God must be too busy tapping his feet to the rhythm, because when she opened her eyes the ducks were still rapping the ABC's. Snatching up the nearest duck, she turned it over and peered at the label. Rapper Quacker.

Great. Just great. Puff Daddy Duck. What more could go wrong?

Too late to do anything about it now. Peering through the bushes, she saw one of the men pointing. They all stood and started in her direction. If she was lucky, they wouldn't notice anything strange until they got close to the ducks.

Leading the horse, she avoided the approaching Mackays and headed toward the cabin. Peter and Malin tagged along behind. She stopped at the edge of the clearing and set up her line of defense. Carefully, she placed her toys along the return path of the men. Not too close to the cabin, because she didn't want to alert anyone inside, but close enough to discourage the Mackays from reaching the building. Thank heavens she'd had enough sense to
bring the toys with motion sensors. Kathy grinned as she placed the Village Gorilla in the grass right beside the path. If she were a sixteenth-century Highlander and met a miniature gorilla happily singing “Macho Man” while he danced, she wouldn't stop running till she got to England.

She tied the horse to a tree near the cabin, then took her butane curling iron from her backpack and untied the Star Wars Lightsaber with the energy hum and glowing light beam from her waist. She glanced at the one toy left in the pack. Her ace in the hole. She hoped she didn't have to use it.

She crept to the cottage. Hmm. One didn't just charge through the door yelling and waving one's weapons unless one was a force of thirty. Since she was only one, she decided to first look through the square opening that served as a window in the crumbling cottage. A damp chill touched her, and she looked up to see mist moving in. Good. Cloaked in gray, she'd feel a little less visible.

Crouching, she slowly raised herself until she could see inside. And froze. She didn't think she'd ever move again, breathe again.

Ian stood naked, spread-eagled, his hands and feet bound to stakes that had been driven into the dirt floor and overhead beams.

He cared not that his body was spread, bared to whatever Fiona chose to do with it. Knowing Fiona, he doubted there would be any imagination involved. At one time, he could have called up a wee bit of interest in how she intended to devour him after all her years of being thwarted in her quest for his sexual services. Not now.

He felt only anger. And fear.

Anger that his thoughts of Kathy had made him careless. When he'd left the cave to check his horse, he'd been deep in argument with himself over her claim that she came from a future time. He could not believe it. He would rather believe in magic and
witchcraft. At least those were things many thought possible. No way could she
prove
what she claimed. If he ever chose to believe her, he must abandon all he knew of his world and set himself adrift on a sea where only his faith in this woman anchored his soul. And if he chose to believe, then he must also accept that if she returned to her time, she would be lost to him forever. He chose not to believe.

Fear. Had Kathy discovered him gone? Had the priest harmed her? He flexed his muscles in a vain attempt to free his arms. If she was unharmed, had she gone for help? He closed his eyes at the thought that she might get none. If the Pleasure Master didn't return, then a new one would have to be chosen. Neil and Colin would be happily rid of him.

Ian's greatest fear? That Kathy would not wait for the men of his clan to free him. That she would set out on her own. He opened his eyes. That she would try to . . .

He narrowed his gaze on the window behind Fiona. Watched as blond curls rose above the ledge, followed almost immediately by a pair of wide blue eyes.

. . . rescue him. “God's teeth!”

“Aye. Ye ken there'll be no escape from me, Ian Ross. Ye're truly mine.” Fiona drew her tongue across her lower lip.

Ian was reminded of a bitch in heat.

Fiona offered him a practiced pout. “Ye'll not be able to show me yer skills this first time, but I
couldna wait to see
all
that I've missed these many years.”

“Ye should free me so I may give ye
all
ye've missed.” The blue eyes peering at him over the window ledge narrowed.

Fiona's laughter offered a husky promise. “Not this time, Ian. I must take my pleasure from gazing on yer body, and”—her voice lowered to a hungry whisper—“touching ye where I wish. 'Tis a joy I've waited long for.”

“And does yer joy include touching me wi'
that?”
He dropped his gaze to the whip she held by her side.

He lifted his gaze in time to see his blue-eyed watcher's attention shift to the whip. Her eyes immediately widened again.

Fiona shrugged. “I use it when riding. I would only use it on an animal that didna give me a pleasurable ride.” Her smile suggested that the using of it on him might bring her added excitement.

Ian frowned. For all the beauty of her red hair and green eyes, Fiona Mackay had a dark heart. But Fiona was not his greatest problem.

He must find a way to keep Kathy from bursting through the cottage door to attempt his rescue. Where were the men who'd been outside? If Kathy remained out there, she'd have a chance to escape into the forest when they returned. He must keep her outside until the Ross men arrived to release him.

Even as he coldly planned what he must do, something warm and new moved in him. She'd
cared enough to follow him. To arrive so quickly, she must have ridden his horse. Few would be so brave. Now he must keep Fiona from turning and seeing Kathy at the window. He must also hold Kathy's attention long enough to give the Ross men time to reach them.
If they were coming.

“Let me guide ye, lass.” He dropped his voice to a husky murmur filled with erotic promise; it was what Fiona would expect from the Pleasure Master.

“Guide me?” Fiona's gaze turned predatory, heated.

“Aye. Listen to my words even as ye touch me, and ye'll know an . . . orgasm such as ye've ne'er known before.” The men had lit a small hearth fire, and even though Ian's back was to it he could feel its heat. Sweat dampened his bare body, and he felt a drop of moisture slide down his chest, over his stomach, until it reached his groin.

“Orgasm? What is an orgasm?” Fiona's gaze followed the path the drop had taken.

Her greedy stare should have excited him, but he felt only distaste.

“'Tis an . . . explosion of pleasure.” Ian looked past Fiona to where Kathy had raised herself higher, so he could now see her mouth.

For a moment, the corners of her lips curved into a small smile at his remembrance of her orgasm description.

Even as he watched her lips, he felt another drop of moisture slip down the side of his neck, bead on his nipple, then continue its journey over his stomach until it slid between his legs.

Kathy moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and Ian didn't need to look into her eyes to know what she was looking at. He could
feel
the touch of her gaze.

Desperately, he tried to focus on Fiona, to ignore the familiar stirring, the growing pressure. But it seemed he had no control where Kathy was concerned. His gaze returned to her, to the wet sheen of her slightly parted lips. He could imagine her warm breath between his open thighs, her soft lips touching—