Ancient Ties (15 page)

“Trust me and leave it at that,” he commanded, straight-faced now.

“Excuse me? Trust you?” Her voice rose to piercing proportions. Her fingers burrowed through her curly hair, her elbows pointed out at him like a barrier. “For crying out loud, this isn’t real. It can’t be happening. I’m trapped here in the Second Century with Russell Crowe. And he’s having orgies, and I’m supposed to trust him.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. Who is this Russell Crowe?”

Zeus! She’s giving me a headache.

“I saw you.”

“You don’t know what you saw. And even if I were having an orgy, it would be none of your concern. You are in my time.

You are living in my world now.”

She gasped and reeled back. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she blinked back tears. “No,” her voice low and cold.

“What you do is no concern of mine. And what I do is my own business.”

“What do you mean? Who is this man you’re talking about?

This Russell Crowe.”

Where in Hades did she meet another man? I’ll kill Eligius for
allowing this to happen. I’ll kill this Russell Crowe.

My Gods, she was beautiful in her fury. He advanced on her when she backed away from him. Her eyes blazed with emotion—shock and outrage. Her full lips parted and quivered.

The breeze nuzzled the soft material of her tunic close around her, outlining every delectable curve. The night by the fire she’d yielded up every inch of that body to his hands and lips. It took all of his self-control to keep from taking her completely now.

“Who,” he repeated, “is Russell Crowe?”

What is happening to me? How did she turn me into a jealous mass
of lust? She is just a woman. The Gods brought her here for a reason.

They must have had a reason.

Marek towered over Janney as she backed around the apple tree. Her hand shot up, her palm landed flat on his chest to hold him off. If she thought that would stop him, she was wrong. He clamped his hand around her wrist, trapping it flat against him.

With his thumb, he could feel her pulse thudding under the delicate skin. He scowled, waiting for her answer.

She was taking too long to tell him. Damn, he wasn’t going to hurt her. He wanted to throttle the woman. He wanted to lay her down on the ground and thrust inside her. He wanted to claim her, but he would never hurt her.

“He’s a movie star,” she said through clenched teeth.

“A what?”

“A movie star. An actor. In my time. He played a gladiator in a movie.”

“Is he your lover?” She had told him about movies but had not mentioned that her lover was an actor. He felt the moist heat of her palm seeping through his tunic.

She blinked in surprise. “My…my lover?” Then she burst into laughter. “Yeah, sure. I wish.”

Marek dropped her hand and turned his back on her. How had he lost control of the situation? He was so frustrated he could taste it. Attracting a woman had always been effortless. He had easy and mindless sexual intercourse and then moved on.

This woman was too difficult.

“Marek?”

He could hear the amusement in her voice and refused to respond.

“He acted the part of a gladiator. I don’t know him. Not that I wouldn’t have minded it, though.”

Suddenly, he turned and caught hold of her arm. She wasn’t a small woman, almost as tall as he was, but she was delicate. He slid the other large hand around her neck, up into her hair, and tipped up her chin with his fingertips. Lowering his mouth to hers, he didn’t know what he was going to do with her, but he couldn’t lose her. He would make her stay. He would make her forget this Russell Crowe.

He touched her lips with his, smoothed them back and forth, nibbling, licking. Their heated breath mingled until she gasped, he tightened the hand cupping her head possessively and firmly. He wasn’t letting go. The other slid swiftly over her shoulder and curved around her arm, fingertips grazing the soft plumpness of the side of her breast.

Moaning, she pressed against him with fevered, squirming movements that lit the fire in him to a flaming roar. Gods, she went from cold to hot in seconds. Not wanting to question her motives, he took advantage. A groan rolling out of him, Marek molded the muscles down her back and curled his fingers around the firm cheeks of her behind. Thick with desire and aching to be buried deep inside her since the first moment he saw her, he rolled his aching, rigid shaft against her stomach.

Now…now he couldn’t think any more. He could only feel the sweet passion of her hands on him, her fingers digging into his sides, her soft breasts mashed tightly on his chest. Hear her moaning. She wanted him too. He would not let her deny it.

Janney was losing it. She quivered in his arms. Tears slipped down her cheeks. She heard his tortured groan as he slid his mouth over her chin, down her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses all the way. Her fingers groped over his stomach, up his chest and clenched into his tunic in frenzied movements.

She arched her neck and opened her eyes. The jolting sight of tree branches above and ripening fruit woke her to where she was and what she was doing. “Ohmigod,” she cried, pushing at his shoulders. He was really good. Good at making her forget the real reason they were out here. He’d never answered her question. She still didn’t know what he was doing last night.

As if he read her mind, he said, “You mistook what you saw.” His hoarse tone of voice indicated that this was the end of the discussion. His lips traveled across her jaw and up, bathing her ear in his feverishly hot breath.

“But…” She was still in his arms and aroused. Her belly clenched, her vagina throbbed, yawning open with desire. His impressive penis made a powerful imprint on her stomach. Her hips automatically flexed as if he were already inside her. She wanted to believe him. She needed to. Spellbound by his sexy rumbling voice, she closed her eyes fighting the dangerous hunger.

“Stay with me. Forget Russell Crowe.” Was there more hope than command in his voice?

A snort shook her.
Hmm, can I forget Russell Crowe when I’m in
the arms of the real thing?
“Do I have any choice?” She pushed

against his shoulders. “You’ve brought me out here away from the portal.”

“You came of your own free will.” He leaned in to kiss her.

“Yes, I did.” She set her fingers over his lips. Why did she still want him if she couldn’t trust him? Because part of her did believe him. She’d taken the risk to come with him, and now meant to see it through.

His warm, moist breath bathing her fingers, he whispered,

“You’re getting used to this place. To me. You’ll stay.”

At that, she pushed him and sidestepped away with a touch-me-again-and-you’re-dead-meat glower. She didn’t like it one bit that he was so confident of her.

“You’re pretty arrogant, you know,” her throat was tight with emotion.

“It is no secret that I want you,” he said earnestly. “And that I will have you, but you will be willing.

His fingers firmly gripped her upper arms. He wasn’t hurting her, just turning her insides to jelly with only a touch.

Straightening her back, calling up every ounce of willpower she had, Janney pulled free. “You haven’t answered my question.”

He stared at her silently.

She had no idea what was going through his head, she turned and stalked back toward the villa, hating that her stiff and shaking knees made it difficult to maneuver over the rough terrain.

“Two women, indeed.” Mockingly, he taunted himself.

“Those days are long gone.”

Then he went serious and muttered to himself, “I want only you, Janney. Only you.”

It had been a couple days since Janney had been on a horse and her bottom didn’t hurt as much as it had on the ride out to the villa. In fact, she actually enjoyed the rocking gait, and with the high up view, it was like being on a living SUV. She could see

out over the traffic ahead—of which there was none—and into the distant hills.

Janney and Marek hadn’t had much conversation this morning before he invited her on a ride. She had the distinct feeling that he just wanted her with him. The few times their gazes collided, a pulse deep inside her thumped at his frank, sensual manner, but he didn’t make any overt passes. He seemed to be biding his time. Accidentally on purpose, he bumped her knee with his whenever the track narrowed enough to get away with it, making sure that she was one hundred percent aware of him.

All along the way, in villages and farms, Janney heard Marek settling disputes, discussing village business, and negotiating the portion of crops or livestock he was owed.

Marek was probably as comfortable on the battlefield as he was with the workers in the fields. He continually gave the people a break, took less than they offered without humiliating them. He was really a wonderful man. Honorable and honest.

Janney felt as if she had stepped into the pages of history.

She was seeing things she had only imagined, except that this was real. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in the forests of giant trees; scented wood smoke curling out of the chimneys of the round, thatched-roof huts. Children scampered and called to each other.

Every time she began to grow comfortable with where she was, she was slapped with a wave of the improbability of it all.

Even her secret pinches told her she was awake. Every sense—

taste, touch, smell, hearing, and especially, her sight—told her she was undeniably here, and not as just an observer. She was in this century as a participant.

As they rode into a new village, she saw the main street was lined with low buildings, shops with meat and chicken carcasses hanging from the eaves. Woven baskets of fruits and vegetables sat on the doorsteps of other shops. There was a bakery and a smithy. Children thronged to Marek, as they had everywhere, clambering up onto his saddle. He smiled, ruffled their heads,

and gently swatted their bottoms as he pulled them up more securely.

Swamped by a cold chill, her gaze snapped sharply to his broad back. She had never asked him the all-important question.

Was he married, or did he have a significant other? Did he have children?

Coming out of her thoughts, Janney saw the movement. A little girl teetered on the edge of Marek’s saddle, lost her grip on his tunic, and was slipping off. “No!” She kicked her mount closer and leaned out to catch the child. Leaned too far. With a sharp cry, Janney tumbled heavily into the dirt. Her breath blew outward, and she lost consciousness upon impact.

Janney thought she heard shouts as if from a distance. She heard a deep rumbling voice but didn’t know what was being said. For the life of her, she couldn’t recognize the words, but the tone sounded anxious. Hands roamed her body, squeezing her arms and legs gently but firmly. Someone held her head, brushing their thumbs over her cheeks. Fingers slid through her hair, palpating her scalp. She groaned.

“Janney.” Warm breath moistened her face.

Her eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t speak. Her chest ached. She’d landed on her stomach, her arms underneath knocking the breath out of her. All she knew now was the low humming voice, the hands curving around her limbs. She groaned again, rolling her eyelids shut.

“Janney, sweet. Where do you hurt?”

Sweet?
She felt the deep, anguished thrum of his question to the very tips of her toes.

Geez, my toes are the only things that don’t hurt
.

Gasping, Janney lost her connection with the earth when she felt herself being lifted up in powerful arms. Losing consciousness again, the next thing she was aware of was the soft surface on which she lay.

“Wake up. It’s Marek, Janney. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She wasn’t so far out of it that she didn’t recognize the urgency in his voice. Her lashes flickered up, and molten, brown, worried eyes stared back. “What…happened?” Her throat felt clogged with dust and dirt. “The girl…little girl…is she okay?” She gripped Marek’s tunic, searching his eyes.

Marek swooped an arm around her shoulders holding her close. “Don’t move.”

“The little girl. Is she okay?”

Marek tipped his head toward the doorway. Janney noticed several women clustered there with children peeping around their skirts.

“Where’s that water?” he demanded gruffly.

One woman broke away from the group and bustled toward Janney and Marek carrying a basin of water and some cloths over her arm. “My Meta is fine, my Lady. I’m so sorry to have caused you trouble.”

Janney smiled weakly at the woman. “I’m fine. I’m just glad Meta wasn’t hurt.” Janney didn’t quite feel fine, but Marek’s attentions were certainly helping. He gently wiped a cool, wet cloth over her face, and arrogantly handed the cloth to Meta’s mother to wring out.

Janney coughed.

He snapped his fingers, and a goblet was placed in his hand.

He held it to her lips and urged her to sip the sweet wine. She felt dizzy and breathless, but not so bad that she didn’t enjoy his care. He held her like a precious piece of glass. Janney heard the murmuring and giggling of the group hovering in the doorway and suspected Marek had ordered them to stay back.

“What did you think you were doing?” Marek rasped, brushing her cheeks and forehead with the cloth.

Janney gazed up into his eyes. He simmered with tension and looked positively stricken—and furious.

“Just let me get my breath.” Why was he mad? She hadn’t fallen on purpose. She was the one hurt, and it wasn’t even that bad. Pushing herself to sit up and scoot away from him, she pressed a shaking hand to her forehead. A groan proved that she

shouldn’t have moved so quickly. She let him tighten his arm again around her shoulders.

“The little girl, Meta, was going to fall off your horse, and I just leaned out to push her back. I guess my horse backed up.”

“Shush.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb, and then grazed it over her mouth. His chocolate-brown, intense wide eyes focused on her lips. “You could have been…” his voice painfully raspy. He shuddered, the movement pressing her lips apart.