An Original Sin (4 page)

He’d already turned, so she couldn’t see if he’d smiled when he said that. She certainly hoped so.

“I realize you think you know best, but I’d like to make a few reasonable suggestions.” She tried not to let the mesmerizing motion of his buttocks in those too-tight jeans distract her. “I’ve watched history disks of earlier societies, so I might have a better grasp of survival strategies.”

She raced to keep up with him as he pounded down an endless flight of stairs. He’d gone right past an archaic, but perfectly good elevator. Of course, he wouldn’t know what an elevator was.

“I dinna need yer help. It shouldna be hard to find a wee cave that’s dry and free of vermin. Ye can start the fire whilst I kill some fearsome beast wi’ my club. When I drag it home, ye can skin it, then cook the meat. ’Tis simple.”

She didn’t appreciate his sarcasm. At least she hoped it was sarcasm. She was too out of breath to make a cutting reply. The flow of blood must’ve been different in earlier humans. It obviously bypassed the brain and went right to the legs.

At the bottom of the stairs he opened a door, then stopped dead. The force of gravity from her warp-speed descent carried her into his back with enough strength to wring a grunt from her.

For one dazzling moment, she forgot everything in the
cling wrap sensation of his back and buttocks melded to her breasts and stomach. The empty spasming of her lower regions reminded her they yearned for some melding too. If only he were a little shorter.

He was so darn tall. She wasn’t used to looking up to people, literally speaking, of course. It made her feel…

No!
It made her feel nothing. Evolving humans had to be physically large and strong to cope with their hostile environments. In an advanced civilization, mental capacity was more important than physical size.

A heavy weight landing on the trailing end of her gown interrupted her satisfying thoughts of anthropological superiority. Glancing over her shoulder, she met the black cat’s enigmatic stare. “What’s with you, cat?”

“He’s taken wi’ ye, lass. Are ye certain ye have no witches in yer family?”

She glared at Leith’s strong back as he stepped into the rest-over’s lobby. Dragging her feline hitchhiker behind her, she moved to stand beside him.

He turned in a circle, not bothering to hide his amazement. “ ’Tis passing wondrous.”

She gazed up at a huge skylight that let in the sun’s harsh glare. Last night the rest-over’s ceiling had glowed with soft, mood-enhancing light. She squinted at the walls. Wood paneling? Last night the walls had been a kaleidoscope of muted colors that shifted and flowed, responding to the energy levels of the many guests. Glancing down, she blanched at the red floor covering. Didn’t these people know anything about the soothing influence of neutral color schemes? And everything was so…cluttered. Plants, paintings, statues. “Garish.”

“Ye dinna like it?”

“I prefer lighter shades—unobtrusive, restful. In my society, we use our minds to work, and mental stress is tiring. Neutral colors leave me calm and rested.” She started at
his wide breadth of chest. What would he know of stress? She’d bet he solved his problems by hitting them over the head with his club. She’d make it simpler for him. “What I mean is—”

“ ’Tis a fine carpet.”

“What? Oh, yes, you have this thing about red.”

“Ye’d look fine in red, lass, wi’ a gown that dipped to here.” He ran his finger from the base of her throat, where her pulse beat madly, to between her breasts—a line of sizzling, molten…red.

Enough.
He had this touchy-feely thing, and his touch bothered her. She wasn’t used to someone touching her. Even her mother hadn’t bothered with hugs, viewing them as unnecessary physical contact.

Besides, she was trapped in a strange time with an even stranger man, and all she could do was discuss color preferences.

Turning away, she dumped the cat off her gown, then started toward the main desk. The cat immediately returned to his seat on her train. She tried to ignore Leith’s chuckle.

The few men who looked at her seemed more amused than admiring. She must be quite a sight with her uncombed hair and too-long gown, hauling a black cat along on her train.

The women were a different matter. They riveted their attention on Leith like a rocket’s homing device. She supposed there was a certain residual fascination with the primitive male animal. Even she felt it…a little…very little…so little it wasn’t worth mentioning.

She stopped at the desk, then coughed to get the whiteshirted attendant’s attention. He stared at her with wide-eyed interest, obviously too polite to ask questions. A big improvement over Neanderthal Man behind her. “Do you have a…”—she searched her memory for the right
word—“newspaper?” Thank heavens she’d studied all those history disks.

The man pointed toward a metal dispenser. “Fifty cents.”

“Never mind,” she murmured, and started to turn away. Another problem. Humans still used money in the year 2000.

Leaning over the counter, the man peered at her train, and his polite expression changed to a grin. “How’d you get the cat to stay there?”

“We glued him.” Still dragging the cat behind her, she walked back to where Leith continued to gawk at his surroundings, while every woman gawked at him.

“Umm. Sir?” Leith turned at the attendant’s call. “You can’t leave with hotel property. You’ll have to return it.”

“Hotel property?” Leith stared blankly at him.

“The phone receiver. You have the hotel’s phone receiver.” The man’s face was turning an interesting shade of red.

Phone.
Fortune searched her memory. Of course. Phones were primitive communication devices used before…she smiled up at Leith. “He wants your weapon.”

As Leith’s expression darkened, she moved to head off an explosion. “Give it to him. We can’t afford to make a scene and call attention to ourselves. You can find another weapon.”

Leith’s intense gaze made her want to squirm. Finally he nodded. “Aye. Ye’re right.”

They walked back to the attendant, and Fortune didn’t know what surprised her more, that Leith gave up his weapon without a fight or that he’d actually agreed with something she’d said.

Once the attendant had the phone receiver, he dismissed Leith with a supercilious smile and turned his attention to Fortune. “Exactly what did you intend doing with this?”

Fortune glared at him.
Salian slug.
She didn’t know why his patronizing attitude toward Leith made her mad, but it did. She could see Leith’s thunderous expression.
Uh-oh.

She grabbed Leith’s arm and turned toward the door. Luckily, Leith allowed her to guide him. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled sweetly at the attendant. “We were expecting an important call.”

They’d leave the rest-over now. And as unreal as this place seemed, it felt safe compared with what they’d find outside. Fortune controlled the urge to race back to their room, then curl up in a fetal position on the sleeping pad. She was scared. She’d never known danger. There was nothing to fear in the year 2300, except perhaps the calm predictability of each day. Sometimes she’d wished for excitement. Perhaps she’d wished too hard. Perhaps this really
was
a dream. “Pinch me. I have to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

Leith’s eyes lit up like those of a child presented with a season pass to Planet Play. “Yer bottom is nicely fleshed. I’ll pinch ye there and ye’ll ne’er feel it.”

“Pinch my bottom and you’re space trash. Here.” She pointed to her arm. “I’d do it myself, but it’ll be more convincing if someone else does it.”

He shook his head. “ ’Tis useless. I think ye know this isna a dream.” The light in his eyes faded, and she glimpsed turmoil in their jade depths before he turned from her.

They’d reached the automatic doors, and as the glass panels silently swung open, she walked outside. Glancing back, she watched Leith step gingerly past the doors. He’d paled, and a sheen of sweat covered his torso. Looking quickly away, she hoped he hadn’t seen her staring; she sensed he wouldn’t want a witness to his fear.

Sympathy touched her. She’d expected the doors to open, understood the four-wheeled machines that roared up and down the street. But to Leith, they must seem like
terrifying monsters. He needed her. No matter what he said, he really
needed
her. She wondered at the warm glow the thought brought.

Still basking in the glow, she looked around her. When she turned back to the rest-over, Leith was gone.

Gone! Oh, no.
Fear caught at her, cutting off all rational thought. She couldn’t lose him. No matter that dozens of men walked around her.
He
was the one.

Intent on locating Leith, she stepped off the curb without noticing the traffic. Turning in every direction, she finally saw him. He was standing beside a little old woman with…blue hair? What was the old woman handing him?

The screech of tires jerked her attention away from Leith. Too late she remembered she wasn’t in her own time, and vehicles didn’t have sensors to guide them around things in their path. Frozen, she stared at the vehicle hurtling toward her and could muster only one thought:
Leith will be alone.

If a person’s life was supposed to flash in front of them, she was denied that treat as someone flung her from harm’s way, then fell on her. The air escaped her lungs in a startled whoosh, and as she fought for breath she felt the mad pounding of her heart and heard the cat’s surprised yowl.

Leith.
She’d found him, and she was still in one piece. Life was good. Even with dignity and breath gone, her body refused to ignore the solid length of him pressed against her. Her nipples swelled in joyful reaction at the contact with real male flesh, and she didn’t even want to think about the lower half of her body’s response to a male leg lodged between her thighs. If she didn’t move fast, she’d have a revolution on her hands.

“Get off me before I…” What had she read about ancient defenses against unwanted male advances? “Before I kick you in the groin.” Of course, the manuals hadn’t
indicated what to do when said groin was pressed against her thigh.

“Ye’re an ungrateful wench. Here I’ve just saved ye from one of yon devil’s toys and not a word of thanks do I get.”

“Devil’s toys?” Fortune turned her head so she could peer beneath his muscled arm. She squinted at the four-wheeled vehicle marked
TAXI
that had pulled up to the curb beside them. There was a boxy vehicle—she thought it was called a truck—with
ICE CREAM
emblazoned on its side parked behind it. The singer on the truck’s loudspeaker bemoaned his stay at someplace called the Heartbreak Hotel. A sad song about love. No one sang love songs anymore. Without men, what was the use?

Exhaust fumes engulfed her and she coughed. When she got home she’d appreciate her pollution-free hovercraft a lot more.

When she got home. The sudden reminder of her predicament made her response harsher than she’d planned. “If you hadn’t run off with that blue-haired woman, I wouldn’t have stepped into the street. Let me up.”

He pushed himself off her and stood. The sudden flow of cooler air across her body made her shiver. She looked up and met his equally cool gaze.

“Dinna think because ye come from another age ye know everything. Blundering into the path of that cursed machine was foolish.” A smile touched his lips. “I helped the old woman carry her things. She gave me some pieces of paper and told me to come to her room so I could light her fire. I dinna think ’tis cold enough for a fire.” He held the pieces of paper out for her to see.

“Light her fire?” Money. The pieces of paper were money. “I think she wanted you to…Forget it. Her heart couldn’t take it. You’d kill her.”

“Aye.” His smile widened. “ ’Tis what I thought. I’d turned to leave when I saw ye needed saving.”

He’d shielded her with his body. Unexpectedly, the thought thrilled her. That he’d sacrifice his body for hers was wonderful. Not logical. In her time people accepted the consequences of their own actions. But…wonderful.

She looked away. “I’m sorry.” He’d saved her life. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. Sensitivity’s part of my culture, but you make me want to scream and…Must be something in the air. Uncivilized oxygen molecules.” She wished the answer were that simple.

He exhaled sharply and glanced around. “Mayhap we should—”

“That bum of an ice-cream pusher cut me off. Didja see him? Now he’s runnin’ away before I can plant my foot in his butt. Musta got his license outa a cereal box.” A pair of skinny legs encased in jeans cut off Fortune’s view of the street. “Yo, you guys want a taxi or not? Better let me take you someplace private, ’cause I think it’s illegal to do it on the sidewalk. Know what I mean?”

Startled, Fortune shifted her gaze to the wiry little man who’d climbed from the taxi. His grating laughter galvanized her. Pushing down the gown that had ridden up to her thighs, she accepted Leith’s extended hand.

After pulling her to her feet, Leith turned to the taxi driver. He’d seen these machines from the window, so he knew people rode in them, like carriages without horses. When he returned to Scotland, he’d never declare anything impossible again. “We must find clothing and shelter. Can ye help us?”

The small man’s gaze darted to Fortune, then to Ganymede, and finally returned to Leith. He lifted a cap with the words
HARLEY DAVIDSON
on it from his head, then slicked back his thinning hair. “I can take you to hell if you got the dough to pay for it.”

“Gee, and here I thought we were there already,” Fortune muttered.

Fascinated, Leith stared at the man. “Dough? Ye take dough in payment? ’Tis strange. Yer wife must do an uncommon amount of baking.”

Fortune leaned toward him, and for a moment Leith forgot everything. Her eyes sparkled as she tried not to laugh. If he were home, he’d woo her with soft compliments, then lie with her in the heather. Though he suspected soft compliments would have little effect on Fortune. He also suspected her laughter was aimed at him. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

“Dough is the common word for money, payment. Like the old woman gave you.” She turned her attention back to the driver. “We don’t have much money. We’d just gotten into town when creditors took everything we had except what we wore.” She smiled weakly.