An Original Sin (27 page)

“Well, the way I heard it, Bones and a big old panther had a go-around on your front lawn last night.”

“Panther?” Leith and Fortune spoke in unison.

“Saber-toothed panther. Know Bones got the worst of it ’cause I saw him today. Looks like someone took the working end of a rake to his face and arms. He’s stomping and swearing he’ll take care of you when your pet’s not around to protect you.” Blade chuckled. “He was real entertaining.”

Leith glanced at Fortune. He wasn’t surprised to see the look of panic growing in her eyes at the mention of violence. “Did Bones tell ye about the…panther?” He returned his attention to Blade.

“Don’t forget the saber-toothed part.” He gave Leith a grin. “No, it was Mrs. Hyperstein down the street. She was walking her poodle and saw the whole thing. Swears you’re lettin’ a panther run loose in the neighborhood. Called me to let me know she doesn’t think folks are allowed to keep exotic pets around Clear Lake.” He winked
at Leith. “Truth is, she’s afraid your panther might have a taste for poodles.”

“A panther?” Fortune had recovered her voice. “All we have is Ganymede.”

Blade’s good humor disappeared. “Close enough. Course, Mrs. Hyperstein’s eyesight ain’t so good anymore. Won’t wear glasses.”

Leith nudged Fortune. He thought it might be best to say nothing more about this. Fortune nodded her agreement.

Thankfully, Leith realized they’d reached home. As he helped Fortune from the taxi, he made a quick visual survey of the house to make sure they’d had no more uninvited guests. Relieved, he found nothing disturbed.

He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and was immediately met by Ganymede, who seemed intent on imparting all the news of the day.

Fortune laughed as she picked the cat from the floor. “Did our panther stay out of trouble today?” She scratched behind Ganymede’s ears, and he broke into a rumbling purr. Fortune looked up at Leith with eyes that sparkled with pleasure. “He’s glad to see us.”

Leith shook his head, but he couldn’t help smiling. “The wee beastie is happy to see
ye
. I’d guess he wants to eat. ’Tis late.”

“Poor baby.” She rubbed her head against the cat’s glossy coat.

Leith rolled his eyes at the cat. With calm deliberation, Ganymede yawned in Leith’s face.

“If ye were a man, ye’d nurse a broken head for a week,” he muttered.

“What did you say, Leith?” Fortune stopped rubbing her head against the appreciative cat long enough to stare at him.

“I said ye should put the cat down so I can feed him.”

“Oh, thank you.” She plunked a grumbling Ganymede onto the floor, then headed for the bedroom. “I’ll get us something to eat as soon as I take a quick shower.”

Leith followed Ganymede’s waving tail into the kitchen. “Tread carefully, ye wee demon.” He opened the refrigerator and took out a piece of salmon. “No matter what form ye take, I dinna believe ye’re a cat.”

He’d gotten Ganymede’s complete attention. The cat’s amber eyes seemed suddenly intense, searching.

There’d been a time when Leith would have laughed at holding a conversation with a cat, at believing what he now believed. But after being sent forward three hundred years, nothing seemed impossible.

“ ’Tis strange that Fortune still treats ye as a cat, even suspecting what ye truly are.” Leith smiled at Ganymede. “Whate’er that may be.”

Leith couldn’t name the moment Ganymede’s amber gaze became something more than a cat’s, but suddenly Leith sensed he’d finally seen the real Ganymede. Wicked humor and a knowledge as old as man’s earliest memories were visible in the hypnotic eyes. And a warning.

Leith had never reacted well to warnings. “When ye’ve finished amusing yerself wi’ us, find yerself a place wi’ enough foolish humans to satisfy ye.” He clenched his hands into fists and met Ganymede’s fixed stare. “But dinna hurt Fortune or ye willna be able to hide from me.” His threat seemed foolish in the face of the power he believed Ganymede possessed.

It wasn’t fear of Ganymede’s retribution that made him close his eyes, but rather the possibility that Fortune would no longer be his to protect, that she would be forever lost to him.

When Leith opened his eyes, Ganymede’s gaze held no
fury, but rather a strangely satisfied expression. And Leith had a feeling he’d walked into a well-laid trap. Not a comfortable thought.

By the time Leith ate dinner and finished his shower, Fortune had turned on the CD player and was curled snugly on the pink couch. Excitement made it hard for her to sit still.

When he finally entered the room, she patted the seat beside her. Without comment, he lowered himself to the couch. She tried not to let his presence distract her, a difficult task. He’d put on jeans, but nothing else. His torso still gleamed damply, and he smelled of Irish Spring and temptation.

“I have a surprise for you.” She unwound from the couch, carefully lit a lone candle she’d placed on the coffee table, then turned off the lights. Returning to the couch, she clicked “play” on the remote. The room glowed with soft candlelight and her expectation of his response to her gift.

As she folded her legs beneath her, Leith moved over and pulled her against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her ear. “What is this wondrous surprise?”

She reached up and placed a finger against his lips. “Shush. Listen.”

When he softly kissed her finger, then drew it into his mouth to suckle, she felt the warm liquid flow begin and gather in delicious pools of want. “Stop.”
Don’t stop.
“You have to listen.”

“Umm.” He transferred his attention to the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.

She closed her eyes and fought the need to clench her thighs against the anticipation his touch loosed.

Suddenly the darkened room filled with the haunting
sound of a lone bagpipe, and Leith grew still beside her. She opened her eyes to the flicker of the candle flame, a flame that almost seemed to move to the lonely melody the piper played. What memories lived in its orange and yellow depths, crouched in its hot blue center?

Leith’s tension thrummed through her, and for the first time she considered that her gift might not be the success she’d expected. “Should I turn it off?”

“No. I would like to hear all of it.” His soft murmur spoke of an infinite sadness that tore at her heart.

She felt him relax against her, and she sighed her relief even as she moved closer to him, a closeness she hoped would in some way protect him from the memories that tortured him.

“I wasna sure I would ever hear the pipes again.” He kept one arm wrapped around her while he clasped her hand tightly with the other.

She held his hand with the desperate wish that she could take his pain as her own, reach into his soul and soothe it. “You miss it a lot, don’t you?”
What a stupid question. Of course he missed it.
The knowledge hurt in the same way an old wound would hurt—a constant ache that would forever be a reminder of searing pain. He would always miss Scotland, his home. And she would never be a part of those memories.

“I miss the purple mountains, the burns that run wi’ water so cold it would make yer teeth ache, the mist moving in from the sea. I miss…”

He paused so long that Fortune thought he’d say no more. She felt him draw in a deep breath.

“ ’Tis time I explained about Hugh.”

“Don’t do this to yourself.” She raised her finger to his lips, and he kissed it. “You’ve told me enough about Hugh for me to understand—”

He touched the tip of his tongue to her finger, then
gently grasped her finger and held it against her own lips. “Ye dinna know all, and ye must know all to understand.”

She watched him with eyes that shone blue fire in the candlelight’s glow.

“Ye have to understand that Hugh was the most important person in my life, Fortune. I was only a bairn when our parents died in the raid. Hugh raised me. He was a fine brother.” He felt the need to affirm this—to himself, to Hugh—before he went on. “But he hated the MacDonalds beyond all reason. They became an obsession wi’ him. I didna realize how deep his hate ran until Glencoe.”

“You don’t have to tell me the rest, Leith.” Her voice soft with sympathy, she rested her head against his chest. He smoothed the silky strands of her hair with fingers that trembled slightly.

“I do, lass. Ye need know why I must leave ye.”
Even though ’twill tear me apart.
The realization didn’t materialize in a jagged streak of blue-white lightning. It had been there all along, teasing him with shadowy glimpses. Finally it emerged in the soft orange glow of a single candle.

“You have to leave…because of Hugh.” Her voice sounded fatalistic.

He would rather she had ranted and raved against heartless forces, but that wasn’t Fortune’s way. Her society taught calm acceptance. He didn’t want to consider the idea that she just didn’t care enough about his leaving.

“At Glencoe he became an avenging force, killing any MacDonalds he found.” As she lifted her face to him, Leith watched horror fill her eyes and felt his own gorge rise at the remembered screams, the remembered smell of blood, the remembered feel of death.

Staring into her eyes, he saw the exact moment the horror died, to be replaced by stubborn conviction. “But that wasn’t
you
. We each have to take responsibility for our own actions.”

He resisted the urge to cover her mouth with his, to gain surcease from his agony in the sweetness of her body. “I didna stop him, lass. I stood frozen wi’ horror and watched the slaughter turn the earth red around me.” He made a conscious effort to loosen his grip on her hand. He’d probably hurt her, but she hadn’t said a word.

“When I finally did try to stop Hugh, he turned on me, called me a craven—”

“A
craven!
And was it brave to kill unarmed men?”

“A craven who wouldna fight for my clan.”

“Stop, Leith. You’re just hurting yourself.” He felt the dampness of her tears against his chest.

He needed to hurt himself. He needed to remember always. “I stumbled away from the carnage and met wi’ Ian MacDonald, who was trying to escape into the hills wi’ some of his clan. The Campbells were pursuing them and would’ve cut them down. I pulled my sword free. I knew what Hugh expected of me, but…” He drew in a deep breath along with the courage to continue. “I couldna stand the thought of any more senseless bloodshed, so I helped them.”

“Any person with a conscience would’ve done the same. How dare Hugh condemn you.”

Her outrage on his behalf touched him. “If that had been the only thing, mayhap Hugh might have forgiven me. But shortly after the massacre, Hugh met Ian MacDonald in the hills. Ian wounded Hugh sorely. When Hugh finally healed, he was left wi’ a scarred face and a permanent limp. He didna blame Ian; he blamed me. He said ’twas the price he paid for my traitorous acts. Hugh ne’er spoke to me again.”

“That’s why you hate the MacDonalds so much, isn’t it? Not because they’re the enemies of your clan, but because of how they destroyed your relationship with your only relative. Oh, Leith.” She wrapped her arms around him
and hugged him with all of her strength, as if she could squeeze all the bitterness from his soul.

“ ’Tis rumored that after his wounds healed, Hugh took to drink. I canna change what I did at Glencoe, and if truth be told I would do the same again, but I must make my peace wi’ the brother of my childhood, even though I fear he’s gone forever.”

“I understand.” Her quiet acceptance defeated him, defeated his foolish resolve never to join with her again, never to give her power over him. The truth? She’d held power over him from the moment she’d thrown back the cover in that hotel bed and gazed at him with those wide blue eyes.

Rats! I missed something important. I make one quick popcorn run, burn the damn popcorn, rush back, and find out I’ve missed something juicy. Look at their faces. It must’ve been great. Tell me. I gotta know.

Right. I shouldn’t listen. Yeah, yeah, a better person would butt out. But what the hell, I’m not a better person. Though you know what they say about curiosity and the cat.

Besides, I have a stake in this. I’m part of the family. I’ve never been part of anyone’s family. Feels sorta good. Makes me kinda wish I’d picked two turkeys to jerk around instead of Leith and Fortune. OK, I’ll admit it’s gonna hurt when I have to rip them apart. They’re good people. I know, I know. That shouldn’t matter. But for some reason it does matter this time. When you’re up close and personal with two people day after day, you start to care.

I don’t think I’ll try something like this again. It’s dangerous to my moral fiber. OK, so I don’t have any moral fiber. But if I did, I’d say this whole thing stinks. I need to wrap things up and move on. Forget about Leith and Fortune.

Speakin’ of wrapping things up…I wonder where the ice-cream jerk went? Haven’t seen him around lately. I felt sure he’d stick to Leith and Fortune like a tick to a hound dog. If he’s supposed to save their hides, he’s doin’ a piss-poor job of it. There’ve been a couple of times he could’ve caught them when I wasn’t around. Oh, well, I’ll worry about him when he shows up again. And he
will
show up.

Final detail. This Bones character. Gives Neanderthals a bad name. Leith needs to watch out for him. You don’t back a
rat into a corner, and Bones is gettin’ desperate. His reputation is dog poop after Leith worked him over and I did my thing. I’d take care of him myself, but I don’t think Leith would appreciate it. Male pride and all that stuff. Hey, I understand. Us males gotta do what we gotta do.

Hmm. Doesn’t look like much is goin’ down here, and I’m still hungry. Burned popcorn isn’t gonna do the job. I’ll just mosey on down to the nearest steak house. Get me a great prime rib—rare—and a bottle of fine wine. Hey, it works for me.

“Leith, if I could go back with you to your time for one hour, just one hour, what would you show me?”

She smiled up at him, and he appreciated her attempt to lighten his mood. “I thought you wouldna go back to my time unless yer life depended on it?”

“Well, I guess I could take one hour. After an hour, though, I’d have to find some buttons to push or go crazy. So what would you show me?”

“I wouldna waste our precious hour showing ye anything. I would draw ye down to the heather and love ye.”

She still kept her arms wrapped around him as he slid to the worn carpet. But in his mind he lay upon a purple carpet of heather, a soft breeze blowing that carried the scent of Scotland. He rolled over so she lay beneath him.

“Umm, wouldn’t the heather be sort of scratchy?”

He stored her playful grin with his other memories of her—too few to last the rest of his life.

He shook his head in mock sadness. “Ye have much to learn, lass.” He ran his fingers down the side of her face, and she shivered. “Passion runs strong, like the crash of storm waves against the cliffs. It doesna feel, doesna know anything but its need.” His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “And its need is relentless, hungry.”

She looked into his jade eyes and saw there her past,
her future—at least for this moment. No matter what happened, she would have this, a memory none could share, none could take from her. She wouldn’t worry how this would affect the future of the human race, didn’t care. This night she’d live as though there’d be no other. And who knew, there might not be.

“Will ye remember me, lass, if we part?”

For a moment the closeness of his thoughts to hers startled her. But she forgot everything when she saw the sadness in his gaze. “Will we be allowed to remember, Leith? Or will our memories be wiped clean?” The very thought drove a lance of cold dread through her.
Not remember Leith
?

“I willna let it happen. I will remember ye, always.”

His savage declaration hung between them, igniting her own determination. She’d no more forget Leith than she’d forget how to breathe. She would imprint his touch, his soul, so deeply in her heart that nothing could erase it.

Reaching up, she smoothed a strand of dark hair from his face. He grasped her hand and stilled it, then softly kissed her palm. The touch of his mouth fanned a spark that waited with blue-flamed heat within her, fanned it to glowing life, anticipation.

Suddenly he pushed away from her and rose in one lithe motion. “Dinna move. There are two things I must get.”

Before she could protest, he was gone. Trying to control her racing heart, her rapid breathing, she fought for logical thought. The bed. Reasonable people mated in bed. She frowned. Something was wrong with that sentence.

Then she smiled, a slow smile. Not mating. Making love. She was ready to admit she’d make love with Leith tonight. But not on the floor. In the nice, soft bed.

She’d started to rise when Leith’s shadow loomed over her.

“Where do ye think ye’re going, lass?”

“In to the bed. It’s soft, comfortable. This floor is—”

With a disgusted grunt, he leaned down and scooped her up. Ignoring her startled cry, he headed for the back door.

“What’re you doing? Put me down.” She winced as he kicked the back door open and carried her into the yard.

“Ye must learn to use yer imagination for other things besides making men.” Setting her on her feet, he spread the blanket he’d brought on the ground beneath the large live oak tree. “Ye must have a sense of adventure, live dangerously.” He put down a bag he’d slung over his shoulder.

“Someone will see us.”

“No one will see us.”

“There’re bugs out here.”

“Ye have a fearless warrior wi’ ye who will protect ye against such things.”

“Inside is better.” She turned toward the house, but she’d barely taken two steps before he’d picked her back up with the same ease he would Ganymede, then deposited her on the blanket.

“Stay there, woman.”

She huffed and puffed, then stared up at him as he towered over her. “Don’t you dare use that tone of voice with me, Leith Campbell. Maybe that caveman technique goes over well in 1700, but it doesn’t cut any ice with a woman from 2300.”

Silently, he reached for the snap on his jeans.

She swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe as he paused with his fingers on the metal snap, teasing, drawing out the tension until she was ready to do her own kind of snapping.
Finally!
The tiny pop of the released snap allowed her to exhale, and the sound of the zipper brought with it a promise—a promise that was reinforced by the arrow of male skin the open zipper revealed.

That mouthwatering vee of flesh was telling her something,
but she couldn’t think above the raucous prelaunch party her hormones were holding. Never subtle, never subdued.

Glancing up, she slid her gaze across his bare torso, which gleamed in the pale glow of the full moon. “I bet all those rippling muscles really impressed the milkmaid set, but they don’t do much for…I mean they don’t actually excite…” It would start growing any minute. She almost reached up to check the length of her nose.

He still said nothing as he slid his jeans down over his lean hips and strong legs. He kicked them away from his already bare feet. Would he just as easily kick her heart away if it became a nuisance? Her heart? What did her heart have to do with this?

She shifted her gaze and her thoughts. “No shorts.” She knew that open zipper had been trying to tell her something. “Why don’t you wear shorts? You bought plenty. A different color for each day of the week. I notice these things.” Of course she noticed those things, small, unimportant things, like all the small, unimportant details that had made up the fabric of her whole life.
Until Leith.
“All civilized people wear…” She blinked at the pure inaneness of her comment.

His white smile flashed in the darkness. “I ne’er claimed to be civilized. When ye return to yer time, ye can amuse yer friends wi’ tales of how ye made love wi’ a savage.” His lips still smiled, but there was no smile in his voice.

The moonlight painted him in shades of gray, a dark warrior come to live in her memories forever. “Forget what I said.” She smiled up at him. “Come here.”
My fierce Scottish lover.

She sensed his body relaxing as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Ye try my patience, lass.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “But I think ye worth the aggravation ye give me.”

“I’ll try not to comment on that.” She couldn’t help herself. She reached out and laid her hand against his chest. Closing her eyes, she felt the strong beat of his heart, the warm flesh and solid muscle. “But you don’t play fair. You took away half my fun.” She opened her eyes to gaze into his—amused, inviting. “I didn’t get a chance to undress you.”

“Ach, another one of life’s wee disappointments.” He reached into his bag and pulled something from it. “To make up for it, I have a gift for ye.” Uncertainty suddenly clouded his gaze. “ ’Tis a silly thing, but when I saw it I thought of ye.”

He held it out and watched for her reaction as though he expected her to break into gales of laughter.

She finally focused on what he clasped in his large hands, and her breath escaped her in a cry of recognition. “Skirky! You found Skirky for me.” No matter that the tag said Cuddle-Me Caterpillar, it was
Skirky
.

Trembling, she took the tubular yellow toy from him, gazed into its huge purple eyes, then clasped it to her and rocked back and forth as tears coursed down her face.

“God’s teeth, I didna mean to upset ye, lass.” She heard the panic in his voice and smiled through her tears.

“You are a wonderful man, Leith Campbell.”
And I love you.
When had she known, really known? Was it when he’d sat beside her at the computer and told her of his life, a life only a man with his inner strength could’ve survived? Was it when he’d offered her a wilted yellow flower he’d rescued from loneliness in Mary’s garden? Or maybe it was when he’d shielded her body with his that first day. Most likely it was when she rolled over in the rest-over bed and saw him for the first time, his dark hair spread across the pillow, his face one of savage beauty even in sleep.

Through the emotion that tore at her, she recognized the irony. She sat clasping her first love to her chest while
she gazed at her last love. And he
would
be her last, for she would never feel this love for another. Never.

His smile held none of its usual wickedness. “Ye like him? I know he’s not the same as the one ye had as a bairn, but—”

“He’s exactly the same.”
In my heart.

Leith’s smile warmed every dark, frozen corner of her soul—the ones untouched by a parent’s love, a friend’s understanding, a lover’s tenderness. She could almost hear the cracking of ice as the loneliness of her childhood melted into a sea of heated desire—for only one man.

Carefully setting her new Skirky on the blanket, she looked at Leith. “I want you, Leith Campbell, with every atom of my MacDonald body.”

“Atom?” He frowned, then realizing what she’d said, froze. “Are ye sure, lass?”

She tried to think of her oh-so-logical reason for never making love with him again, but like a greedy child, she could think of nothing except the man kneeling in front of her—and her need, her hunger, her love. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He touched her then, sliding his finger down the side of her neck until he reached the top button of her blouse. Carefully, as though he were opening an infinitely fragile package, he released the buttons.

She didn’t move, didn’t breathe as he peeled the blouse away from her, then released the clasp on her bra. Bared to his view, she sat without moving—waiting.

With a muffled groan, he moved away from her and lay down on the blanket. Stretching his arms above his head, he met her puzzled gaze. “Ye wanted to be on top last time, Fortune. Do what ye will wi’ me.”

His power to tangle her thoughts amazed Fortune. She couldn’t concentrate on his words, only on him: The muscular line of his arms leading down to his thick, dark
hair spread across the blanket like temptation in silk. His jade eyes glittering with expectation, with hidden promises. His lips, parted, begging for her touch.

As her gaze slid past his throat, he swallowed hard, a sign of vulnerability that she longed to smooth away with her fingertips, her lips.

His wide shoulders, flat stomach…She knew his body, and yet she didn’t. The long, ridged scar that ran from beneath his right arm in a straight line to his waist. Tonight she’d trace with kisses the healed agony of that sword cut, yet never know what battle caused it, what he’d felt when the blade pierced his flesh, never know his emotions as his lifeblood soaked into the Scottish earth. She wouldn’t ask him about it tonight, with magic all around them, and she suspected they wouldn’t be together long enough for her to learn the stories of so many scars, the stories that made up the flow of his life.

Following the line of his body, she noted the relaxed strength of his slightly spread legs—waiting.

He was completely relaxed. He trusted her, knew he was safe in her presence. Somehow that knowledge made her want to…
Do what ye will wi’ me.
The full import of his words hit her.

He lay before her, offering her the one thing he’d always refused to relinquish—control. She felt like some ancient goddess being honored with the supreme sacrifice. But instead of a sacrificial knife, she’d wield something far more potent.

Standing, she slowly stripped off her jeans with hands that shook. Running her gaze down his body, she let her glance linger between his thighs, glorying in the hard length that proclaimed his readiness for her.

Reacting to her gaze, he lifted his hips from the ground in an instinctual offering that needed no explanation. “Ye
do
wear underthings.” His voice was harsh, urgent. “Get rid of them.”