An Original Sin (28 page)

Her glorious savage hadn’t quite learned humility yet. She smiled sweetly as she slowly, carefully, slid her red panties over her hips, down her legs, then paused for effect before stepping out of them.

As he groaned like a man on the rack, she lifted her arms above her head in a leisurely stretch. She didn’t know who she was torturing more. She barely resisted the urge to leap upon his mouth-wateringly naked body and devour him alive.

“Lass, dinna do this to me.”

“What?” She smiled innocently down at him. “I haven’t done a thing.” Her smile turned wicked. “Yet.”

Slipping to her knees beside him, she placed her palm against his heart—felt the quickened beat, heard his harsh breathing. For her.

She didn’t think she could ever go back to making her pale imitations of men with their programmed responses, because she’d never be able to duplicate this—the emotion, the truth.

Leith started to reach for her, but she shook her head. “Don’t. Let me bring you pleasure this time.”

“Touching ye brings me pleasure, Fortune.” He dropped his hand while his gaze turned smoky. “Ye will ask me to touch ye soon enough.”

She looked at him from under lowered lids. “You talk too much, Campbell.” Leaning down, she touched her mouth to his, then immediately deepened the kiss. She had no control where he was concerned. With his hands above his head, and his body bared to her, he pushed the buttons that left her panting like an overeager puppy at the sight of a new toy.

When she finally broke the kiss, she breathed as though
she’d run miles. The hot taste of male and desire lingered on her lips. The searing response of his lips, his tongue, tempted her. She barely stopped herself from begging him to touch her.

“Ye have the look of a woman who needs to feel her man’s hands on her, lass.”

Looking into his eyes, she saw the triumph there. Never let it be said she couldn’t accept a challenge. “Not until I drive you crazy, Campbell.”

Easing down beside his prone body, she kissed a delicious trail along the side of his neck, glorying in the salty tang of warm, living male. She let her lips linger where his pulse beat fast and strong. She savored this proof of his life force, would close her eyes in future years and pull out the memory of his blood coursing through his body—his pulsing realness. She suspected she’d have a sad lack of realness in a life that didn’t include Leith Campbell.

Fortune felt rather than saw impatient need writhing in him. “Hang on to your force field; I’m going as fast as I can.”

“For a woman who lives in such a fast time, ye set a verra slow pace.” His words were a hungry gasp.

Hunger. Her own body turned liquid with it. She carefully explored his nipples, licking, then rolling each one between her fingers until she could hear his harsh panting.

Suffer, Leith.
But she knew in his suffering lay the seeds of her own destruction. Her hands shook as she slid them across his lower abdomen, down the inside of his hard, sweat-dampened thighs. Her lips followed the same path; then, when she reached the pulsing heart of her need, she paused. She wanted to, wanted to with every deprived cry echoing from her past, a past that had bound her with silken rules—soft, comfortable, until you tried to break them. She’d never hungered to break them, until Leith.
But rules meant nothing now. She was free—free to follow the path of her desire.

She put her mouth on him. His pleasure-pain groan encouraged her. Lingeringly, she ran her tongue the length of him. His hips bucked, rising to offer more of himself, begging for more of her. She couldn’t resist. She took him deeply into her mouth, heat within heat. And when finally she moved from him, she knew.

She hadn’t experienced teleportation, but she’d heard that in the moment before you became nothing, you had to face the fear that upon reappearance somewhere else, you’d never be the same person. This time she knew. She loved Leith Campbell, and their lovemaking tonight, in this time and place, would forever change her heart and soul. “Touch me, Leith. Please…touch me.”
Touch the person I was, the person I’ll be forever after.

Without a sound he turned to her. He needed no words. She read his soul in his touch—his mouth on her nipples, teasing them with his lips, his tongue, until she moaned. His fingers—stroking her body until she thrummed with sobbing desire—her stomach, the insides of her thighs, then finally the spot that opened the door to a paradise she’d never thought to walk through again. She wouldn’t walk through it alone.

“Now, please, now!” He was on top again and she was begging, but who gave a damn.

She closed her eyes and waited until she thought she’d explode. When she opened her eyes to make sure he hadn’t dissolved into an unfulfilled dream, she found him watching her. His taut smile challenged her. “Know me, Fortune. Know who makes love to ye tonight. ’Tis not one of yer creations. I’m real. Remember the realness always.”

Then he rose above her, blotting out her yesterdays, her tomorrows. Power rode his thrust, plunging deep to touch the center of her universe. And like an exploding
star, she arched to meet the heat and light that flung her to the farthest corner of sensation, where for one searing moment in time she touched eternity.

Drifting through a soft black euphoria, she listened to the rasping of his breath beside her, felt his body still a part of hers, and felt a surprising tear slide down her cheek.

How much longer? And how could she live in a world without him? She didn’t know; she just didn’t know.

She opened her eyes to meet his warm gaze. For a moment she glimpsed something there that made her catch her breath; then it was gone, replaced by his smile.

“I must cross out the marks I’ve made.” He ran his finger lightly down the middle of her nose, then leaned over to kiss the end of it.

“Marks?”

He nodded solemnly. “A mark for every time ye’ve climbed into bed beside me and havena made love wi’ me.” His gaze turned smoky. “A mark for every night of torture ye’ve put me through, lass.”

Beyond all belief, she could feel him growing within her.

“But tonight ye made all the marks mean nothing, the waiting worthwhile. Tonight, lass, ye were wondrous.” His voice was a contented growl.

“Really?” She felt like Ganymede, arching in the hope of receiving further strokes.

“Aye.” His gaze turned suddenly serious. “There has ne’er been another who touched me as ye touched me, Fortune.”

What she longed to say reached too deeply into her heart, exposed a small, quivering hope that blinked in the light, then retreated to its own familiar spot, still afraid, still unsure.

“Strange, you ended up on top again, in control, but it didn’t matter.” She smiled weakly and stroked the side of
his face. “It didn’t matter at all.” What mattered was the feel of him beginning to move within her.

“This was ne’er about control, lass, but the sharing of pleasure between a man and a woman.”

His quickened breathing told her of his desire to share more pleasure with her. “Doesn’t it bother you that you found all this pleasure with a MacDonald?”

He stopped the slow, rhythmic movements that were beginning to make her breathe a little more quickly, too, and grinned at her. “It hasna bothered me for some time.” His grin faded and he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “ ’Twas ne’er the MacDonalds I hated, but myself. Even though I would do the same again, I felt I’d betrayed my clan, my brother. Ye must understand, lass, that I felt I did nothing to help my parents when they were killed during the raid. Glencoe only added to my guilt.”

“You were only a child when your parents died. You couldn’t do anything.” This was one feeling she could share with him. She understood the helplessness of childhood, the feeling that if she could only do the right things, say the right things, her mother would love her. She realized now that her mother had never loved anyone, was probably incapable of loving anyone but herself.

She softly stroked Leith’s hair. Now she knew the power of love, and she pitied her mother. Relief flooded her as she finally released the last of her lifetime’s resentment.

“ ’Twas safer to blame the MacDonalds than to question my brother’s love, but mayhap I understand now. After the massacre, many who took no part condemned Hugh. My brother ever found it hard to admit wrong, but guilt couldna help but visit him in his dark moments. Mayhap Hugh saw in me the face of his own guilt. Hugh couldna fight the many, but he could fight the one—me.”

His muffled words tore at her heart, a heart already lacerated by fear of their separation. His warm breath fanned
her neck, and she ran her hand down his back in a comforting gesture.

“Love me, Fortune.” His movements turned fierce, demanding.

Always
. Tonight she’d give him enough love to wipe Hugh from his mind, his heart. At least until dawn ended this magic night.

She met his fierceness with her own, driving all memories of guilt and sadness away. “I love you, Leith.”

Her murmur was lost in the rhythmic surge of fulfillment.

Afterward, he carried her to their bed, where she lay beside him, watching as he drifted toward sleep. At least for tonight, he’d found peace.

When his steady breathing told her he slept, she rose and threw on her robe. She felt restless and wide-awake with her need to think about tonight, about all her tomorrows. Wandering into the living room, she looked at the materials Blade had brought. Maybe she could start Blade’s sculpture tonight.

Hours later, she realized how much she’d missed her work. But she could be happy in this time creating dynamic sculptures. Stopping to study what she’d done, she suddenly realized there was another sculpture waiting to be born—born of her love, her dreams. She’d work on it at the same time she did Blade’s.

As the sun peeked above the horizon, Fortune glanced at Blade’s head. She’d finish this quickly. Then she turned to stare at the second sculpture, the one she’d barely started. Walking over, she carefully covered it.

Leith dreamed sweet dreams that night, dreams that for once didn’t include slaughter. Instead, he walked down a Highland path that led to a small cottage. In his dream he smiled, knowing his sweet, compliant wife awaited him with shy innocence and a homemade meal.

The cottage door swung open, and he saw silhouetted in the sunset’s last rays…a red-haired vixen clothed in a clinging red dress. She smiled at him, a smile full of wicked promise.

“I sent out for pizza, lover. Why don’t you get comfortable while we wait? I have a feeling the driver might be a little late. It’s a long drive from Houston.”

Leith woke with a silly grin on his face and a body part hard with anticipation. Rolling over, he reached for the red-haired vixen in question, only to find her side of the bed empty.

He groaned, flopped disgustedly onto his back, and tried to calm the agitated body part that insisted on standing up for its rights. “Relax, lad. Ye’ll have to live on hope for a wee bit.”

After climbing from bed, he showered quickly, dressed, then headed for the living room. He found Fortune humming happily and working on Blade’s head.

Forgetting his disappointment for the moment, he circled the sculpture and peered closely at the detail. “ ’Tis amazing, lass. It looks remarkably like Blade.”

“How fortunate for me.”

He glanced at her, and she grinned playfully at him.

“Of course it looks like Blade, dummy. After all the years I’ve made men, I should hope I could sculpt a faint resemblance.”

He didn’t quite know how to handle Fortune in this mood. After last night he’d expected…what? Regret? Anger? He’d known women who would blame the man when the lovemaking didn’t meet their expectations, and sometimes when it did.

Fortune seemed vibrant this morning. Leith studied her. There was something in her eyes—a soft glow, a new vulnerability. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he decided it boded well for him.

A plaintive meow from outside drew his attention. “His lordship demands entrance. Shall we let him in?”

Fortune pursed her lips as though in deep thought. Then she smiled brightly. “Oh, why not? May as well live dangerously. Let’s hope he hasn’t brought any ice-cream men home with him.”

Leith swung the door open, and Ganymede paced regally in.

Fortune blinked, then stared at Leith. “Where’d he get that collar?”

Kneeling down, Leith touched the shiny red collar and the silver tag attached to it. Lifting the tag, he peered at the engraving. “It has his name, address, and our phone number on it.”

Fortune abandoned her sculpture to kneel beside him, and he controlled his need to clasp her in his arms. Things were in a sorry state when even in an impersonal situation he couldn’t stop thoughts of lust from intruding.

She ran her fingers along the collar’s smooth surface. “Who put this on him?”

Leith remembered the feel of those fingers on his body, and his breathing quickened. Forcing the memory
aside, he shrugged. “I dinna know. Mayhap the wee beastie put it on himself.”

Ganymede cast him a sudden wary glance.

Leith decided he’d imagined the look. Perhaps he read too much into all of Ganymede’s actions. Meeting Fortune’s incredulous stare, he grinned. “ ’Twas only a joke. Most likely Mrs. Hyperstein put the collar on him so all would know where to complain if he caused havoc among the neighborhood poodles.”

Fortune smiled and shook her head. “You’re probably right. Should we leave it on?”

“Aye. It wouldna do to have him lost.” He grinned at Ganymede. “Though I dinna think we could lose him if we tried.”

Ganymede swiped at him with unsheathed claws, and Leith jerked his hand away. “Ye understand me well, cat. ’Tis lucky I admire yer spirit. Most men wouldna put up wi’ yer antics.”

Ganymede stared at him out of large amber eyes that glittered with evil laughter, and Leith forced himself to hold the cat’s gaze.

Finally he stood and mentally shook himself. What were the words for what he must do? Now he remembered. He must…get a grip.

Since Fortune showed no desire to speak of what had happened last night, he would allow her to think and come to terms with their new relationship. For after the wonder of last night, he couldn’t leave her untouched on her side of the bed. He would go crazy if he tried.

“Ye can work on yer sculpture today. I must speak wi’ Mary about money for our IDs.” If the powers had any compassion, they’d leave him here with Fortune long enough to need identification. If not…“Then I must do some shopping. Ye wouldna be interested.”

He noted the flicker of disappointment in her eyes and
yearned to tell her how much he wanted her with him. It was becoming an obsession, this need to have her near. When he looked at her, touched her, he forgot everything else. Even his memories of Hugh paled in comparison to the pleasure Fortune brought him. But today he must be alone.

Leith stood on the sidewalk and looked at the money in his hand. Enough to purchase identification and something equally as important.

He’d purposely left Fortune at home because he knew she wouldn’t approve of what he intended to do. She’d argue that they had more important things to do with their money right now.

But she was wrong. He wasn’t blinded by what he wanted, and he wanted Fortune to remain forever with him. He no longer tried to fool himself about that. But the Fates were nothing if not fickle, and he must face the fact that Fortune might very well be sent back to her time without warning.

The thought made his stomach cramp with sick dread. He didn’t want to think of it, but he must, for Fortune’s sake. If she returned to her own time, he wanted her to take with her this memory.

Pushing the money into his pocket, he entered the pawnshop.

When he again stood outside the shop, he clasped Fortune’s chain and cross in his hand. He longed to crush the cross so tightly in his hand that its imprint would forever remain in his flesh—the only physical memory he’d have of Fortune. But that was impossible. He opened his hand and studied the intricate silver design, then idly turned it over.

He narrowed his gaze as he brought the cross closer to his eyes. There seemed to be some faint words chiseled on the back. Squinting, he finally made out the message.

When at last he lowered the cross, disbelief and wonder fought for dominance.
Impossible
. What he’d read was impossible.

But why not? Everything that had happened to him in the last few weeks had been impossible.

Throwing his head back, he laughed—laughed at a fate that arranged things so neatly, manipulated them so completely. The whole thing was brilliant, and he offered a silent salute to its planner.

Fortune heard him whistling as he approached the door. The carefree sound fueled her sense of outrage. Here she’d been worried sick about him, and he could
whistle
. Well, she’d see how Mr. Happy-go-lucky felt in a few minutes.

The door swung open, and she attacked. “How nice of you to show up occasionally.” She hoped he recognized the phoniness of her smile. “I suppose I can cancel the missing-person’s report?”

He stared uncomprehendingly. “Missing-person’s report?”

She felt like gnashing her teeth. How could she crush him with her witty sarcasm when he didn’t understand her meaning? “Let me rephrase that in more primitive terms.”

Gleefully, she noticed she had his full attention now. He glared at her, and she smiled back. “It’s almost six o’clock. It’s the day of Michael’s party. It’s been eight hours since you left. It’s…it’s…”

“ ’Twas a grand day, lass, until now. I have money for our identification.” He pulled the bills from his pocket and waved them at her. “I dinna know anything that can destroy a man’s happiness faster than a nagging wife.” He slapped the money down on the coffee table, then strode toward the kitchen.

Surprised, Fortune stood staring after him.
Nagging wife
? The nagging part made her feel guilty, but the wife
part…The wife part sounded right. She closed her eyes. Who was she kidding? She had as much chance of marrying Leith as she had of understanding him. He’d want a wife who didn’t defy him, insult him, argue with him. Sighing, she trailed him into the kitchen.

She watched him cut up a tomato for the sandwich he was making with the same precision he’d probably use to cut out an enemy’s heart. Her heart, to be exact. “I’m sorry I called you primitive. I only said it because I was angry.”

He didn’t take his attention from the hapless tomato. “Dinna fash yerself, lass. I didna even notice yer insult.”

Tell that to the tomato.
“OK, if you
had
noticed that I called you primitive, I’d like to apologize. I lashed out at you because I was…worried.”
There
. She’d said it. Now he’d laugh at her.

He paused from his tomato dissecting to gaze at her. “Ye were worried?” His warm gaze caressed her, assured her she’d said something wonderful. “Why?”

She fidgeted with the place mat on the worn wooden table. “Anything could happen to you out there. Someone could mug you.” She abandoned the place mat and clung to the back of a chair. “I know. It sounds dumb. I mean, you’ve survived a lot more than a mugging, but I still worry.” This was getting worse and worse. Any minute now she’d resort to babbling.

“Ye’d care?” The husky softness of his voice held a note of tension.

They seemed to be talking in circles. “Of course I’d care.”

“Why?”

Didn’t the blasted man know any other words?

“Because…” She should lie, tell him she didn’t want to manage alone, that she needed the money he made. She told the truth. “Because it would hurt me.” Unconsciously, she placed a hand over her heart.

“Aye.” He smiled as though she’d imparted some great secret.

“Well, I’d better get ready for the party.” She fled the kitchen as though pursued by alien invaders, but glanced back to see that he’d stopped savaging the tomato and was standing staring into space with a bemused expression on his face.

She lifted her arms to the star-filled sky and twirled happily. The short skirt of her new red dress flared in the light breeze. Even Ganymede’s sober presence couldn’t dent her joy in the party. Everything had been wonderful, from the smoldering appreciation in Leith’s gaze when he first saw her dress to the hungry glances he’d thrown her all night. Who cared if red wasn’t her color? Leith liked it, and that was all that mattered.

She stopped twirling to stare at the dark shapes of live oak trees and the gaily lighted castle in the pale silver glow of the full moon. The fiercely independent Four-Two-N would never have worn something just to please a man. But Fortune? Fortune would make the most of the time she had with her man.
Her man
. Possessiveness. She’d have a lot of negative traits to purge when she returned home.

Home
? Home was here, in the year 2000, with Leith Campbell. And nothing would ever change that.

Her mood shattered, she stood and stared at the castle’s door. Leith had said he’d be out in a moment. What would it feel like to know that Leith would never again open a door and come toward her? With his work for Mary almost complete, maybe she should start getting used to the idea.

The sound of the door opening distracted her from that distressing thought. She watched as Leith strode toward her.

In his jeans and white shirt, he was the sexiest man
there. Not that she’d even looked at the other men except when politeness demanded it.

“ ’Tis a beautiful night.” He lifted his gaze to the sky, and she stored the memory of the man, the night, the emotion.

His hair lifted gently in the soft breeze as he lowered his gaze to stare at her. “Ye look bonny tonight, lass.” His husky murmur gave sensuality to the silence.

In another time, she would have felt unsure, nervous. But tonight was magic, and she felt able to topple empires or mesmerize princes in her red dress. Of course, the only man she wanted to mesmerize stood in front of her.

A distant melody broke the night’s quiet. Puzzled, she stared into the darkness. “What’s that?”

“ ’Tis the ice-cream truck. I canna imagine he’ll sell much ice cream at this time of night.” He glanced around him. “I dinna see Ganymede. We would be wise to see that the wee dev il doesna get near the truck.”

They listened silently as the music grew louder.

Fortune smiled at Leith. “The song Elvis is singing…It’s beautiful.”

“I canna help falling in love with ye.” Leith murmured the song’s words.

Fortune closed her eyes against the sudden pain. She would trade all her yesterdays, barter all her tomorrows, to hear Leith speak those words—from his heart, from his soul.

“We didna dance tonight, Fortune. Will ye dance wi’ me now?”

Fortune opened her eyes and blinked away her sudden emotion. Knowing she couldn’t speak without her voice quavering, she only nodded.

He moved close to her and she absorbed the heat, the special feel of him that would allow her to recognize him forever.

“I havena done this before, but I know I must put my arms around ye, and
that
I can do verra well.”

The music swelled, and the words flowed over her as he embraced her—blotting out the moon, the stars, the universe. “I’ve never done this either, but I think you have the right idea.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. His hair framed his face—a dark halo in a moonlit paradise. He stared down at her, his eyes warm, compelling. Then he smiled, a rueful slant of his lips, and she wanted to stand on tiptoe and touch those lips with hers.

“Ye have my permission to curse me if I step on yer toes.” His smile broadened. “But then, yer curses are no curses at all, lass.”

He pulled her tightly against him, and she wrapped both arms around him. She didn’t think this position was technically correct, but it sure did feel good.

Feel
. She ran her fingers across the muscles of his back, gloried in the tactile sensations of firm flesh and controlled power, longed to sink into him until no line of separation remained.

He began to sway to the music, and his hands smoothed their way to the small of her back, then gently rubbed an up-and-down rhythm of their own.