An Original Sin (11 page)

Shaking, Fortune closed her eyes. This would teach her to never again make light conversation in bed with a Scotsman from 1700. They didn’t have the knack for idle chitchat. Everything had to be blazing anger, heartwrenching emotion. Her calm, unchanging life hadn’t prepared her for this.

But she’d asked, and now she knew. Sort of. She’d seen on history disks the kind of carnage he spoke of, but it had been distant, unreal. Now she lay beside a living, breathing man who’d experienced the horror. She could almost smell the blood.

Drawing a deep breath, Fortune tried to think logically. She’d spent only two days with Leith, but she’d seen him furious with Ganymede, with her. Not once had his fury taken the form of violence. She didn’t doubt he could kill, but not unarmed men.

“You didn’t kill the helpless.” She spoke the quiet words with a certainty that amazed her.

“Do ye know me so well then, lass?” His harsh whisper sent tendrils of doubt skittering down her spine. What if she was wrong?

Logic had no part in her response. “I know you don’t have that kind of savagery in your heart.”

He lay down again, his body radiating brittle tautness that threatened to snap and shower her with unbearable emotions. He turned over, presenting his back to her, and her tension eased.

“Ye’re too trusting, Fortune. Ye have no idea what evil walks the earth in the guise of man. Dinna ask more.”

She wouldn’t ask any more questions tonight, but they rattled around in her head, demanding answers. On another night they’d talk about Hugh again. When she’d
recovered from tonight’s overload of emotion. When she felt strong enough to accept the horrors that writhed in his past and had followed him to this new time and place.

If she and Leith were still together. Did she still want to stay with Leith? Could she bring a man with such a bloodstained history back to her peaceful world?

Fortune burrowed her face into her pillow. She didn’t have to remain on guard against Leith tonight, because tonight Leith did battle with his personal demons.

She wished she’d been able to bring her Beautiful Dream Machine through time with her. She glanced at Leith’s taut back. They both needed some beautiful dreams tonight.

“Yer babe will be born verra soon, I think.”

Leith watched Fortune’s lashes flutter open, waiting for the moment her sleepy-eyed confusion would turn to awareness—of him, of the fact they lay in bed together.

“Babe?”

Her blue gaze darkened like cloud shadow over Loch Naver, and he knew she remembered what they’d spoken of last night, or rather the blather
he’d
spoken. The darkness and this woman must’ve stolen his wits. He could think of no other reason for baring his pain for her to see. He must distract her from thoughts of last night before she asked more questions. “Dinna ye feel him move? Methinks he’ll grow into a braw laddie.”

“Braw laddie?”

He watched in amused silence as realization crept over her—of his nearness, and the fact that part of her had grown mightily during the night.

Her eyes widened as she stared down at the suspiciously rounded sheet. “My stomach is purring!”

“Aye.” Leith could hear the contented rumble clearly.

“Ganymede!” The mound shifted; the rumble grew louder.

“Ye dinna look too pleased at the blessed event, lass.”

“Blessed event, ha!” She reached for the sheet, ready to fl ing it aside.

Leith arranged his face in lines of mock horror. “ ’Tis an unnatural mother ye be, speaking of yer babe that way.”

He felt guilty at her sudden shattered expression.

“I’ll never be a mother, Leith.” She looked away. “I don’t want a clone of myself. Maybe I’m more old-fashioned than I thought, but I’d want my child to be the product of a loving relationship with a man I…” She laughed self-consciously. “Before she died, Grandma Two-Z gave me the cross.” She reached up to her neck as though she expected the cross to still rest there. “Anyway, she told me to always look for the
real
in life.” Fortune stared down at the purring mound. “Fat chance of that.”

Something stirred in him. “I swear I’ll get yer cross back for ye.” He pictured himself lifting the feathery curls at the base of her neck, then rubbing his knuckles against her smooth skin as he secured the chain. He’d reach around and lay his palm between the warm swell of her breasts to make sure the cross rested easily against her flesh. He’d move his palm lower…

She glanced at him. “I know you will.” Her voice was soft, trusting.

The moment shimmered with promise until Fortune shifted her gaze to the now snoring mound. “That’s it. Nap time’s over.” She whipped back the sheet, lifted the sleeping cat off her stomach, then plopped him onto the floor.

Her virginal white gown had ridden up to reveal the tempting long line of her legs. Leith didn’t know which image to believe.

He sucked in his breath as, in his mind, his fingers slid along the length of those legs. His imagination stripped her of the troublesome gown so his fingers could glide along her thigh and over her stomach.

“What are you staring at?”

“A man’s imagination is verra powerful.” He raised his lids to meet her gaze, watched her eyes widen, her expression turn cautious. She’d seen his hunger. Suddenly he realized he must know something if he were ever to
fulfill his penance, one he realized he desired with growing urgency, and not only so he might return home. “Do ye fear me?”

Immediately her eyes sparked defiance at him. “Of course not. What’s to be afraid of?”

More than ye could imagine, lass.

She lay quietly, watching him, and he knew his eyes must still burn with his need to touch her. In an attempt to return to normalcy, he grinned and nodded toward Ganymede, who crouched on the windowsill, glaring at them. “Ganymede isna happy.”

“No.”

If he hadn’t looked into her eyes, he would have believed the softly spoken word an answer to his comment. But he did look into her eyes, and knew she spoke of his desire.

He didn’t know why it should hurt. Probably she’d only bruised his pride. After all, he’d rejected her name. What more could he expect from her? It still hurt. She’d rejected him as a man. Most likely she thought him too primitive, too savage.

Maybe she was right. But at least he knew hot blood flowed in his veins, fierce emotions made his heart pound. He
lived
life. He never wanted to be like the humans of her future world—cold, rational.

He climbed out of bed, noting with satisfaction her expression of disappointment with the briefs he wore. “Blade has spoken to Hugh Campbell’s widow. She wishes to see me today. Would ye come wi’ me?”

“Sounds interesting. I’d love to meet her.”

He breathed out, relieved. She sounded normal once again.

“You can use the bathroom while I make breakfast.” She smiled at him. “Oh, when we went shopping yesterday, I bought you a few things you’ll need.”

Leith frowned. He’d noticed she’d flung some objects he didn’t recognize into their cart, but he hadn’t questioned her. She must grow tired of his constant questions.

Besides, he hated having to ask about everything. When he asked about something others took for granted, he felt like a newborn—dependent. He needed to control his own life. Only twice before had he lost that control. He glanced bitterly around him. This was the third time.

Why did the wretched man need her to show him how to use this stuff? Couldn’t he read the labels? No, maybe he couldn’t.

“This is deodorant. You spray it under your arms. It makes you smell fresh and…I can’t believe they still use this stuff. We have implants under our arms now so we never have to…” He watched her with gleaming eyes. “OK, this is toothpaste. Put some on this brush and scrub your teeth.” He smiled at her with perfectly white teeth. Weren’t primitives supposed to have nothing but blackened stumps? He probably kept them white by gnawing on the bones of now-extinct carnivores he’d killed with his bare hands. “And this is a razor. Spray this foam on your hand, put it on your face, then—”

“Ye can stop now. I understand. ’Tis no wonder yer men died. Ye drove them to exhaustion wi’ all the things they must do to their bodies.”

He frowned at the mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist, his torso still gleaming damply from his morning shower. He picked up the deodorant, grimacing as he lifted his arm.

Turning away, she left the room before he could notice her admiring glances.
OK, ogling.

Fact. All the stuff she’d bought him was overkill, messing with perfection. But she was a slave to ritual. Spraying,
brushing, and shaving were accepted male rituals in this time.

Speaking of rituals, her stomach told her it was time for breakfast. She’d have fruit and a cup of coffee. She tried to avoid caffeine, but she’d need it today. Resignedly, she began to cook up a dish of fat for Leith—bacon, fried eggs, and toast slathered with butter.
Yuck.
Maybe she could wean him away from some of this stuff with a few medical facts guaranteed to scare the hair off his chest.
His chest.
She busied herself with the cooking and tried not to dwell on Leith’s body parts.

A piteous meow reminded her she couldn’t starve Ganymede to death, even if he deserved it after this morning’s debacle.

This morning.
She’d avoided thinking about it. Avoided examining too closely the warm yearning she’d felt with Leith’s gaze resting on her stomach, her breasts. She could find no reason for the feeling. She’d understand if she’d had a sexual response, but it hadn’t been sexual. It had been a feeling of completion, of coming home.
Ridiculous.
The social scientists would call it a primal memory, something humans no longer needed. She didn’t know; it had felt so…right.

And because it felt right, she had to make sure she didn’t put herself in that situation again. She had to keep her distance from Leith. Anything that brought them closer could add up to hurt when he left her, either for his own time or when he became the property of her world state. She smiled. Leith would be a national treasure and treated as such. She stopped smiling. How would Leith feel about that? She already knew how she felt.

Fortune heard Leith’s footsteps just as she set his food on the table. Hurrying back to the counter, she set a dish of salmon on the floor for Ganymede. The cat looked up
at her with adoring eyes.
Right.
The adoration would last exactly as long as the food did; then he’d be demanding something else of her.

“ ’Tis a wondrous smell, lass.”

Leith’s deep voice directly behind her spun Fortune around, and she found herself inches from his chest. He’d put on a shirt, but it still hung open. He smelled of soap and toothpaste. “Yes, it
is
a wonderful smell,” she murmured. Forever after toothpaste would trigger erotic fantasies. She knew this with every despairing inch of her soul.

He gently lifted her chin until she stared into his eyes. “Thank ye. Show me how to use these objects”—he nodded toward the appliances—“and I’ll cook for ye next time.”

Her amazement must have shown, because he chuckled softly. “I had no woman to cook for me, so I did it myself rather than go hungry. In the beginning, I’d as lief starve as eat what I cooked. ’Twas fit for no living thing.”

Without waiting for her reply he sat down at the table. “Come, talk to me while I eat, Fortune.”

Grabbing a piece of fruit, her coffee, and a cup of tea for him, she sat down at the table.

“Ye canna tell me that wee piece of fruit will satisfy ye. Why dinna ye try some of this?” He pointed to his plate.

“It’s not healthy.”

“
Life
isna healthy, Fortune. Doesna the smell tempt ye?”

Now that he mentioned it, his food did smell delicious. “I’ll just have a little piece of your toast.”

She watched with horror as he slathered more butter on the toast, then topped it off with grape jelly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many calories in one spot.”

He lowered his gaze as he finished fixing the toast, and she studied his thick fringe of dark lashes. Women would kill to touch him—in any time. The thought depressed her.

“Life would be verra dull if we ate only healthful things. Here.” He held out a small piece of toast. Without thinking, she opened her lips and he slid it in. For a moment his fingers touched her lips, and she forgot to breathe, let alone chew.

Something hot and elemental in his eyes told her she wasn’t the only one affected. Nervously, she chewed and swallowed, then ran her tongue across her butter-smeared lips. He followed the motion with his gaze. She glanced away. Something she didn’t understand, wasn’t sure she wanted, flowed between them.

When she looked back, he’d placed a piece of bacon and egg on her plate. Rather than appear rude, she ate his offering.
Hmm, delicious.
“This is good. Too bad it’s unhealthy.”

His smile held a secret. “Forbidden fruit is the most desired. Ye must know that, lass.”

OK, time for a change of subject.
“If Blade is going to pick us up, we’d better get moving.”

He nodded and pushed himself away from the table, but his grin said plainly that he understood her ploy.

He watched as she studied the appliances scornfully. “Primitive, but this one washes dishes.” She loaded the dirty dishes, added dishwasher soap, closed the door, and pushed what she hoped was the right button. She let out her breath when she heard water pouring into the machine.

“Do they have a machine for everything?” He sounded doubtful about that possibility.

“Of course. Why, in my time—”

“I know. Ye’ve told me several hundred times about the wonders of yer world. But if machines do all the work for ye, what do ye do wi’ yer time?”

“Without manual labor, we’re free to use our minds, to create.” She felt proud of her answer. He couldn’t help
realizing the benefits of living in a society where one could pursue one’s dreams without wasting energy on things like washing dishes. Maybe if she made her time sound wonderful enough, he wouldn’t hate her when she took him there.

“ ’Tis sad.”

“Huh?” Had she missed something?

“Ye can create many wondrous things, but ye canna create the most wondrous thing of all.”

“What? Whatever it is, I’m sure our scientists are working on it.”

“The love between a man and woman.” With that undeniable truth, he left the room.

Leith watched the massive gate swing open and wondered why Hugh Campbell’s widow seemed so anxious to meet him. She knew not what he was, would probably run screaming if she did know.

He glanced at Fortune, who sat with Ganymede in her lap, staring out the opposite window of the taxi at the gravel road leading to Mary Campbell’s home.

Ganymede had won again. If Leith’s clan had even a crumb of the determination that cat had, they’d have wiped out the MacDonalds years ago. Ganymede stood up for what he saw as his rights, and if the wee demon were a man, Leith would be proud to fight beside him.

Leith forgot about Ganymede when the Campbell home came into view. God’s teeth, Mary Campbell lived in a castle.

“Impressive, huh?” Blade glanced over his shoulder at his passengers in the backseat. “She’s rolling in dough.”

“Rolling in dough? I dinna—”

“Well, isn’t this beautiful?” Fortune cast him a warning glance.

She was right. He mustn’t call any more attention to his lack of knowledge.

“Yeah, hard to believe, but this here is an authentic Scottish castle. Campbell had it brought over from Scotland stone by stone and set up on his land. Waste of money, if you ask me. Bet it costs a bundle to air-condition something that big.”

Leith turned to Fortune. “Air-condition?” he mouthed.

“Later,” she mouthed back.

Now that he was looking at her mouth, he had to admit her lips were tempting. The more he saw of Fortune, the more tempting
all
of her became. Almost tempting enough to make him forget she was, after all, a cursed MacDonald.

“I’ll drop you guys off here. Call me when it’s time to pick you up. Have fun.” Blade glanced in the mirror, then frowned. “Oh, don’t forget to take that damned cat with you.”

“That damned cat” had no intention of being left behind. When Leith climbed out of the taxi, then held the door open for Fortune, Ganymede leaped out, too.