Hotter Than Hell (44 page)

“Something’s up,” he said. And in more ways than one.

He studied the lay of the land while he got his reaction to the woman he’d heard in his mind under control. It was spring, very close to the major seasonal fertility festival, and the road they were on led to one of the holy sites scattered all over the southern part of the island. This particular temple to the local mother goddess was located on private property, and the pilgrims were camping out in cow pastures on either side of the road. The manor at the top of the hill had been built by a wealthy Roman colonist, but the local chieftain had taken over after the Romans abandoned all their foreign outposts a generation ago. Bern didn’t care about the festival, but it made a good cover for checking out the place.

The locals were expecting travelers to congregate here.

His holomap pinpointed this site as one of the nexus locations, and despite growing doubts that any of the sites they surveyed were going to provide enough energy to get them all home, it was his duty to check it out. Finding the right door back to the future was only the second half of his assignment. His first duty was to find and rescue the science team that had disappeared six months before his unit got the order to go back and look for them.

In his opinion it had been stupid to send the eggheads back in time without a whole team of sensible people to keep them out of trouble. The mission had been fucked from the get-go. This was the farthest back anyone had tried to travel. The lost team had been sent without proper backup to a time period very little was known about. It was no wonder everything had gone wrong—twice.

He and his men were now stuck here, too.

He gestured toward the crudely built wooden palisade surrounding the estate buildings. “Let’s go see if we can get a look at what’s inside.”

Ginger was used to the world around her going fuzzy and faded, but she realized the moment before she fainted that this time it was because she’d been holding her breath while standing behind the men waiting at the gate.

When the gate opened, she simply blacked out, just as the man from her vision walked in. Their gazes met for a moment, and then everything went dark.

It was ridiculous, and she was so embarrassed that she scrunched her eyes tightly closed when she woke up, not wanting the person holding her to know that she’d come around. Those strong arms were his, weren’t they? Her head rested against a broad, hard male chest. Warmth and the scent of him engulfed her. Awareness of him pooled deep in her belly. Her nipples stiffened, scraping against the cloth of her dress, and her breasts grew heavy.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. Without making any conscious decision to move, her hand came up to stroke his strong, stubbly jaw.

She could hear his heart rate pick up when she spoke, and the deep sound of his laugh rumbled through his chest. For a moment the arms around her tightened, pressing her body harder against him.

Bern liked the weight of the woman in his arms. The touch of the bare skin of her arms and the feel of the rest of her beneath her dress made him ache, made him remember how long it had been since he’d had a woman. It also made him thankful that women didn’t wear underwear in the dark ages. And this woman was a perfect fit against him. He liked the softness of her curly red hair where it tickled his neck and cheek. He wanted to bury his face in her thick hair, then follow the line of her throat all the way down to snuggle between—

Bern gave his head a stern shake. As stimulating as holding her was, he didn’t know why he’d rushed into the courtyard and scooped her up off the ground when she fell. This wasn’t an age of chivalry yet. In fact, in these days they typically saved the cattle before they saved the women.

Calling attention to himself and his men was stupid. Keeping a low profile was a matter of policy and survival among TTP teams. So why was he holding this lady? He had no idea who this woman was or what she meant to all the locals who were staring at him. Though she did look familiar.

When she woke and spoke, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was good to know that she was as aware of him as he was of her.

Then Bern realized that the words he’d heard hadn’t been filtered through his translator implant: she’d spoken in English instead of the local lilting Celtic dialect.

He knew exactly who she was!

Her name was Virginia White, and though he’d never met her in the flesh he’d studied her holo image. Hers, and all of the others on the missing team. He had his hands on one of their primary targets. Since he already held her, he was tempted to call for his men to cover his withdrawal. They could run out the gate and make tracks, anything to ensure her safety now that he’d found her.

Since that wasn’t the smart way to play it, he put her down. Her body slid slowly down his until her feet touched the ground. She was tall and willowy, her height another clue that she wasn’t from this time.

“You—” he began.

But before he could speak or she could answer, a hand landed on his shoulder.

Bern whirled around, his hand on his sword. Over the last six months, that had become second nature.

“What?” he demanded of the potbellied graybeard before him. The stranger wore a threadbare silk tunic. Since silk was a luxury rare in these parts since the Roman withdrawal, Bern guessed he was looking at the local chieftain. “My lord,” he continued, with a polite nod.

The chieftain’s frown turned into an effusive smile. “You’re quick, I see. Good. Good.” He glanced toward the hand Bern still rested on the pommel of his sword. “Welcome to Ched,” he went on. “Come to worship at the well, have you? For the festival?”

Bern nodded. He was aware that Virginia White had moved back into the shadow of an arched doorway. He wanted nothing more than to follow her, but he had to stay in character and deal with the local potentate first.

Bern brought out a small leather pouch, heavy with gold, and handed it over. “Please accept this small gift, in honor of the goddess and your hospitality.”

The chieftain tossed the little purse to feel its weight, glanced inside, and beamed.

He looked at Bern’s people—an obvious unit of soldiers—waiting by the gate, alert for Bern’s orders. “Those are fine-looking lads you lead.”

“We come in peace for the festival,” Bern reassured the chieftain. Then he saw the speculative look in Ched’s eyes. He smiled. “But afterwards, our swords are for hire if you are interested.”

He hoped that made him sound like a friendly and useful fellow to the chieftain, just in case his unit needed an excuse to stay on after the festival. Though he hoped he could find out what Virginia White was up to before then.

Lord Ched’s grin widened. He put his arm around Bern. “Join me for some wine. What’s your name, lad?” he asked as he led Bern into the main hall.

Ginger considered going back to her duties at the spring, but curiosity got the better of her. That, and an irresistible craving not to let the man who named himself Bern out of her sight made her follow the men into the hall. For some reason being close to Bern made her feel as if she was not alone anymore, and she needed that nearness after all these months. She knew very well that any attraction to a man was foolish, and not even because intimacy with an indigenous resident was against Project rules.

If the gleam in Lord Ched’s eye was any indication, this dangerous stranger would soon be the Year King sharing the bed of his daughter Morga. Jealousy ripped through Ginger at the thought, but she knew it would be for the best. They needed a warrior hero right now and Bern looked to have all the qualifications for the job.

He was tall, dark, and handsome, with broad shoulders and big hands and the brightest, most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. There was an aura of steely danger around him that should have scared her to death, but instead it sent fireworks shooting through her. He wore a knee-length tunic that left his legs bare. Over it was metal-studded leather body armor buckled and strapped into place and a light woolen cape. Her fingers itched to pull off all those layers and thoroughly explore what she found underneath.

But they were in public. Even by the debased Roman standards still observed here, it was unseemly for a woman to jump a man in the middle of a meeting—unless she’d been purchased or hired for that purpose, of course.

Ched sent for his daughter and settled down to explain his plan to Bern over cups of strong wine, unwatered, as was the local custom. Effete Romans might drink their spirits diluted, but not Ched. Here business was usually conducted once the menfolk were well on the way to being drunk.

So Ginger stayed in the background to listen and watch. She took a seat at the side of the public space among a group of women working on spinning and embroidery. The men were barely into their second libation to the goddess when Morga came flouncing in.
At least she’s dressed,
Ginger thought. Morga was beautiful, knew it, and had no qualms about showing it even if she wasn’t lying naked on her back on the holy altar.

I live like a nun,
Ginger thought,
and she gets to whoop it up anywhere, any time.

Until a few minutes ago this hadn’t bothered Ginger a bit. Now she very nearly snarled as Morga caught sight of Bern, licked her perfect lips in appreciation, and made a beeline to sit beside him.

“Daughter,” Lord Ched announced once the girl was snuggled up against Bern’s side, “meet your new husband.”

Morga bounded to her feet, looking appalled. So did Bern.

“What?” Morga screamed.

“What?” Bern echoed.

His voice was firm, but anger crackled off him.

Morga gave Bern another once over, and her lips curled in disdain at the lack of signs of rank or fortune. “I don’t mind giving him a toss, but I like the husband I’ve got,” she told her father.

Lord Ched banged a fist on the table. “You’ll take the man I choose.”

“The goddess chose for me already.”

“Your Year King has already reigned too long. When this warrior challenges, the younger man will lose. Be prepared for it—be prepared to do your duty by your father, your goddess, and your people.” He gestured toward Bern. “Now, be a proper priestess and take this fine bear of a man off to the bath.”

“You sound like a Roman,” the girl complained. “But this land is Celt again. And I’ll do no such thing as bathe a stranger.” She looked around haughtily, and pointed to Ginger. “There’s a priestess who obeys you. Let her service this great bear of yours.”

And, with that pronouncement, she flounced back out again, leaving everyone staring at Ginger.

Bern’s initial impulse was to protest all this nonsense about marriage, and bathing with buxom young women, but he let it go when the girl suggested Virginia White as her replacement. That situation had possibilities. It would be a good way to get White alone.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, and stepped forward to drag the stunned Virginia out of the crowd, his hand tight around her slender wrist. She looked at him with astonishment, and he had to fight off laughter as he caught an impression of her thinking about having a barbarian in her bathtub. He also noticed that she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea.

Warmth spread wherever they touched.

Hmmm…maybe they could turn this ridiculous situation into a bit of mutual fun.

“What are you waiting for, priestess?” the chieftain said. “Show the man the hospitality he deserves!”

“Come along,” Bern said. He pulled White along with him out of the hall.

Once out in the courtyard she got her voice back. “You’re in for a treat, warrior, for the Roman hypocaust is still working and the pool is deep, and hot. The baths draw as many visitors as the sacred spring, increasing the lord’s prestige and—”

“I’m not interested in a hot bath.”

She sniffed and wrinkled her pretty nose. “You should be.”

He laughed. “I guess I am a bit ripe from a few days on the road. My tunic could probably use burning, besides.”

“Where I come from that would be breaking a law against polluting the air.”

For a moment he’d let attraction get in the way of professionalism. This reminder that she was no local priestess brought Bern back to his duty. “Lead on to this bathhouse,” he growled.

He watched her walk ahead of him to the baths. She wasn’t a local, or even native to this time.
I could have her
, he thought. Then he reminded himself to concentrate on the mission. But he feared his body was going to overwhelm his brain at any moment.

Ginger was aware of the rough soldier’s gaze. She’d never been so instantly and dangerously attracted to a man before. All the rules about indigenous relations were being overruled by the demands of her body. She didn’t think she’d be able to keep her hands off this guy.

Conveniently, to keep up her cover as a priestess intact, she didn’t have any choice but to scrape his naked body down with scented oil and rinse him off.

Her job description was getting more attractive by the day.

She grinned with anticipation as they entered the bath. But her grin was wiped away and replaced with a surge of fear an instant after they stepped into the room.

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. At the same time he growled, “Out!” to the pair of waiting bath attendants. She heard the slap of their bare feet on the stone mosaic as they hurried out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded the moment they were alone.

“Only what my lord ordered—” Then she realized why her senses were in shock. “You’re speaking English!”

On a burst of sheer relief she grabbed him and kissed him.

What was a man to do when a woman flung herself against him and her soft lips pressed against his own? Then Bern didn’t care what anyone else might do. Her hips ground enticingly against his. Her mouth was delicious, and his tongue delved possessively into the sweet warmth. Her breasts pushed against his chest and he brought a hand up to cup the soft roundness, stroked a thumb across the hard nipple he could feel beneath her dress. He’d never wanted anyone so much or so quickly. He picked her up and tossed her into the water, took a moment to unfasten his sword belt and toss off his armor, then jumped in after her.