Ricochet Through Time (Echo Trilogy Book 3) (15 page)

I hadn’t told him everything—far from it, in fact. He knew I was from the future, that I was Alexander’s granddaughter, and that I was pregnant. And he knew that I was running from Set. He also knew I needed sanctuary, and that I’d sought him out as the one most likely to be able to keep me safe—on my grandfather’s recommendation, I’d claimed. He didn’t know about
us
, or that the twins were his, let alone that they were fated to restore balance to the universe, thus saving us all from the unrelenting chaos Apep yearned for so desperately, and he didn’t know anything about Apep or Re.

I supposed he saw me as something new, possibly something precious—hope for our kind, that we might one day be a viable species able to reproduce without relying on interbreeding with humans. Perhaps I would tell him about
us
in time, once I knew it wouldn’t lead him to throwing me out or running away from fear of bonding with me. I couldn’t risk either, and I still didn’t have a solid feel for this Heru.

He set a large ceramic mug filled with steaming mulled wine before me on the kitchen’s heavy-duty farm table—mulled wine I’d demanded he bring to a simmer to burn off most of the alcohol. “I do not like that,” he said.

I leaned over the mug and inhaled deeply; the smell was an intoxicating blend of sweet and spicy. I blew on the steaming liquid, impatient to try it. Heru’s elderly daughter, Francesca, named for her mother’s mother, or so she’d told me shortly after I’d risen the afternoon following my arrival, touted the miraculous healing properties of her mulled wine. To hear her tell it, it was a bona fide cure-all. Considering that she had to be nearing her eighties and was still an active gardener, showed no signs of arthritis, and appeared to have all of her original teeth, I was forced to give her thinking some merit.

“You do not like what, Heru?” I leaned back in my wooden chair, resigned to wait for the wine to cool. “That you nearly ran me through?”

He stared at me with those too-familiar golden eyes, then turned away to tend the hearth fire. He fed it several logs before giving the leg of pork on the spit a good basting and a turn. “You still have not healed, even after resting.”

I shook my head, my hands curling around the mug of mulled wine to absorb its warmth. “I explained to you why . . .”

“You should be in bed, resting until your children are born.”

Tired of waiting, I took a tentative sip of the mulled wine, then whimpered and spit it back out. Still too hot. I touched my fingertips to my tongue, hoping I hadn’t burned it too badly. “It is hardly like I have a say in the matter. As soon as Set shows up, I will have to leave, just as I came . . .” I snapped my fingers. “Poof.”

Heru eased onto the bench that ran along the side of the table and took my hand in his. “While you are here, mistress, in this time and place, you do have a say.” He raised one hand but hesitated, his fingertips hovering millimeters from the side of my face. Though he didn’t know about our bond, he still felt its pull, and he’d have to be blind and deaf not to sense my own attraction to him.

His fingertips grazed down my cheek, and my eyelids fluttered closed. “It will take Set at least a month to journey here from London, possibly longer. You will have time to rest.” Heru’s thumb brushed across my lips, and I inhaled a shivering breath. “You will let me take care of you. After all, that is why you came here in search of me, is it not?”

My eyes snapped open, and I sat up straighter. His hand fell away. “I will do what is best for my children,” I said. “Nothing more, and nothing less.”

Heru’s nostrils flared and his lips quirked, hinting at amusement. “You are quite spirited; I shall grant you that much.”

Eyes narrowed, I pulled my mug closer and leaned forward, once again basking in the mulled wine’s spicy scent.

“Have you anything else to wear?”

I lifted the cup to my lips and took a sip, pleased to find the liquid didn’t burn this time. Much. I took another sip, then shook my head. “I have money, though—gold.” I patted the hidden pocket in my skirts, eyes widening when I found it empty. “No . . .”

The purse had been my lifeline, my backup plan in case Aset, Nik, and Heru were nowhere to be found. “It’s gone!” I pushed back my chair and started to stand. “I must have dropped it when I jumped from—”

“Calm yourself.” Heru’s fingers closed around my wrist, preventing me from standing all the way. “I removed your purse when you were sleeping.”

“You have it,” I said, eyes unblinking.

“As I just said.”

I sank back into the chair. “Well, you could have said something earlier.”

His eyebrows rose, and he leaned away from me. “I left it on the table beside the bed. It was there when you woke.”

“Oh, well . . .” Avoiding his gaze, I brought the mug of mulled wine up to my lips once more. “I was a bit distracted by the food.” An array of fruits and cheeses and cured meats had been set out on a small table beyond the foot of Heru’s bed while I slept, and when I awakened, I’d demolished most of it.

Heru laughed. “I was pleased you enjoyed the spread. Franci takes pride in her cheeses.”

“She should.” I tilted my mug his way. “And in her mulled wine. It is delicious.”

Heru took a sip from his own mug and wrinkled his nose. “I prefer it a bit more potent.”

“Then heat yourself another batch.” I snagged his cup by the handle and dragged it across the corner of the table to sit beside mine. “I claim this mug as my own.”

Heru’s lips quirked. “Quite spirited, indeed.”

My time in fifteenth-century Tuscany was idyllic. Days were spent exploring the rolling hills surrounding the farmhouse or helping in the garden when Heru deemed a task not overly strenuous. And during the evenings, Heru and I would sit around a long table under the covered patio behind the house, sharing stories and laughing over food and drink with Francesca, her husband Giovanni, their eldest son and daughter-in-law, and
their
three adolescent children. None questioned my presence—I was simply a visiting Nejerette. An “old friend” of Heru’s.

This place, this life . . . it was paradise. Except for one thing: Heru didn’t know who I was, not really. He came to care about me on his own, which made his affection all the sweeter for having nothing to do with our bond. I enjoyed where we were,
how
we were, and I’d fully intended to maintain the status quo. I truly had. But things got out of hand, words were exchanged, and one thing led to another . . .

I sat on the edge of the garden fountain, the scent of the herbs in the garden plot behind me fragrant as the heat from the sun-soaked earth rose to greet the stars. I wore only my long linen shift, as I’d grown comfortable doing in the quiet evening hours after the rest of the family had retired, and I luxuriated in the freedom of movement it afforded. I hadn’t been made for fussy gowns; I found all the buttons and ties and frills cumbersome. And more so, I felt immensely grateful and pretty damn lucky that I’d managed to skip over the periods when corsets were
en vogue
.

Tracing the outline of the full moon reflected in the water’s surface, I thought back on my afternoon with Heru. We’d taken a leisurely stroll to the hilltop to the north, where I’d first arrived, and had flattened some of the tall, golden grass under a heavy wool blanket for a midday picnic. The view was unbeatable: early Renaissance Florence buzzing and humming and puffing smoke, a thriving organism on the cusp of a new century, practically bursting with the promise of greatness. These were the days of Leonardo and Michelangelo and Botticelli. Of the Medicis and Machiavelli. Of the curiosity and creativity that lay at the heart of one of the greatest cultural, intellectual, and philosophical revolutions in Western history.

“Do you know Da Vinci?” I asked Heru while I loaded a slice of bland Tuscan bread with a hearty layer of tangy coarse-ground mustard, a piece of prosciutto, and a thick slice of hard, nutty cheese—all made under Francesca’s artful direction, of course.

“Leo? We are acquainted.” Heru munched on pickled vegetables, his avoidance of my gaze teasing.

I slapped his arm even as I took a healthy bite of my open-faced sandwich. “Well . . . ?”

The corner of Heru’s mouth quirked. “I take it that Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci is still something of a notable figure in the future?”

I nodded while I chewed, then raised my hand to cover my mouth. “He is fascinating to many and has become an obsession for some. Books, movies, TV shows . . .”

“You have, once again, reverted to speaking gibberish, mistress.”

I sighed, popped the rest of my bread-meat-cheese combo into my mouth, and shrugged. It was how so many of our conversations ended, derailed by something either Heru or I mentioned that was utterly unfamiliar to the other.

With another, very contented sigh, I eased back on the blanket and used my arm for a pillow, resting my other hand on my belly. Even the yards of fabric that I begrudgingly wore each day did little to hide the bump now. I was well into my second trimester, and it showed. I could even feel the twins moving around, every so often.

“I want to stay here,” I said, “on this hillside—in this moment—forever.”

“You could . . .”

I gazed up at Heru, finding his handsome features arranged in a careful, guarded expression. “I could not.” I smiled sadly and reached up to stroke the side of his face. “No matter how much I might like to stay here with you, Heru, I cannot.”

He stared off at the distant reaches of the city beyond. “I would love you for all eternity, if only you would let me.”

“Heru . . .” I let my hand fall away, returning to my belly and the twin souls within—the entire reason I was even here to begin with. They mattered more than anything else in the world, certainly more than this temporary slice of bliss, however reluctant I was to let it go. I closed my eyes and tears snuck free, gliding over my temples.

“Of course, you must return to the father of your children,” Heru said, his voice devoid of emotion. “He is a lucky man.”

“He is you,” I said before I could stop myself. My eyes popped open, and I looked at him, horrified that I’d let the truth slip out.

Much to my surprise, the corners of Heru’s mouth ticked upward and his lips curved into a very self-satisfied smile.

I stared at him, blindsided by his reaction.

“I worked it out weeks ago,” he confessed, still staring off at Florence. “It was the only plausible explanation—we had bonded in the future, and once your time became unsafe, you fled to another, safer time, where you would be free to feed the bond while our children grew within you.”

I shook my head, ever so slowly. “Why did you not say anything?”

Heru was quiet for a long moment until, finally, he looked at me. “I suppose I was afraid you would confirm what I already knew to be true.” He laughed to himself. “It does not matter now. I know that you cannot stay with me, and I shall cherish you all the more while you are still here, dear Lex, for knowing you will leave me soon.” He leaned over me, propped up on one elbow, and planted his other hand beside my head on the blanket. “I shall not waste a single moment.”

As his face drew closer to mine, my breaths grew shallow, my heartbeats more urgent. I was desperate for him to kiss me. It had been so long since I’d felt the press of his lips against mine. “We should not.” My voice was breathy. “It is unwise . . .”

“Perhaps, but I think I may yet have a chance of convincing you to stay.” Heru’s mouth hovered over mine, and I licked my lips in anticipation of just one forbidden taste. “Tell me you will stay, Lex.” His lips brushed over mine, the faintest pressure, and he pulled back.

I whimpered, following him up, but he rested his hand on the crook of my neck, holding me down with the gentlest force.

His eyes burned with a thinning rim of golden fire. “Lie to me.”

“Yes,” I breathed, paying his price willingly. “I shall stay. Always . . .”

He descended on me, a hawk swooping down on its prey, and his kiss was neither gentle nor quick. His lips were greedy, his tongue impatient as he poured weeks of wanting into that one, single kiss. His restraint was minimal; mine was nonexistent. I hooked my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, refusing to let him go. I wanted so much more than this one, need-filled kiss. But it would have to be enough.

In truth, it was probably too much.

Heru broke the kiss, pulling back and leaving me gasping, far from sated. His golden irises had been swallowed entirely by pupils swollen with lust. “Perhaps you were correct; that was unwise,” he said, his chest rising and falling heavily. “I can see that now.” When I nodded, he flopped onto his back on the blanket. “The things I wish I could do with you . . . to you . . .”

My hand sought his, and I laced our fingers together. “Tell me?” I watched his profile, saw the moment realization washed over him, quickly followed by a new, more potent wave of desire.

Heru turned his head to look at me, his midnight eyes boring into me. “Do you truly wish to know?”

“I—” My whole body throbbed in wanting, aching for the man lying beside me. For the man who couldn’t touch me. I swallowed roughly, parched for far more than drink. “Yes. Tell me.”

“Well then, close your eyes, mistress, and I shall do as you command.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, and I inhaled shakily.

“I would trace the collar of your gown with my lips.” There was a strained note to his voice, a huskiness I was all too familiar with. “Yes . . . be my hands and lips, Lex. Do what I would do but cannot . . .”

I hadn’t even realized I’d started running my fingertips over the sensitive skin below my collarbone, following the embroidered edge of the dress’s collar. I withdrew my hand but, after opening my eyes and meeting Heru’s, settled it once more on my chest. My hands were his. “Keep going. Please?”

He licked his sculpted lips before curving them into a sultry grin. “As my mistress wishes . . .”

Skimming my fingertips along the fountain’s onyx surface, I blushed even recalling the things he’d said—and I’d done—on that hilltop. We’d been foolish, playing with fire, but somehow we’d managed to emerge unscathed.
This
time.

We couldn’t do it again. Not ever. It was too dangerous.

From behind me, I heard Heru approach the fountain. “I would take you to bed on this night,” he said. His fingers traced fire along the line of my shoulders, tempting me to dance with those deadly flames once more.

I shivered, goose bumps forming all over my skin.

“. . . would doing so not condemn us both to death.” He sat beside me on the fountain’s rim. “I have been replaying our
kiss
in my mind all evening.” And I knew that by “kiss” he meant everything that had followed that brief, lip-locked moment. “Tell me of the first time our lips touched.”

I tore my gaze from the water’s faintly rippled surface and looked at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“
Your
first time,” he clarified.

“Oh . . .” The few tendrils of hair that had escaped my loosely pinned bun caressed my back and shoulders. “I always think of it as the time I uncloaked an echo of you in the At—it was when I first learned you were Netjer-At.” I smiled fondly. “But
you
claimed that one did not count, since it was only our bas, not our actual bodies.” My smile faded as realization dawned. Going into the At together wouldn’t have been a possibility in my native time, because it was so unstable—but we weren’t in my native time. The At here was pristine, only skewed due to my out-of-time presence.

“Heru . . .” I stared at him, my pulse speeding up as an overlooked possibility occurred to me. “What happens to our bas in the At has no impact on our physical bodies, correct?”

His fingers closed around my wrist, his thumb tracing the pulse along the inside. His eyes were lowered, but the moment they met mine, I knew he was on the same page. Hell, from the looks of it, we were on the same damn word of the same damn line.

Heru stood and held out a hand to me. “If it is not inconvenient, mistress, perhaps you would accompany me upstairs?”

I nodded, eyes wide and heart thundering. I placed my hand in his, and we raced up the two flights of stairs to his Spartan bedroom. I’d barely sat on the bed before Heru’s ba pulled mine into the At.

We crashed into each other amidst an ocean of color. The vibrant swirls of the whenless, whereless At surrounded us, dulling in comparison to the torrent of emotion cresting between us. Heru tore at my imagined gown, and I treated his unreal clothing with equally vicious disregard.

No time was wasted on buildup, on gentle kisses or teasing caresses—we’d had enough of that on the hilltop. My lips moved against his with crushing desperation, and he responded with equal, unrestrained ferocity. My arms wrapped around his neck as his hands gripped the backs of my thighs, hoisting me up. I wrapped my legs around his hips, hooking my feet together and pressing them into his backside to get closer to him.

Heru broke our kiss only once, hissing in a breath when he first slid inside me.

In that moment of stillness, in the timeless eternity, the controlled chaos of the At all around us, I felt utterly at peace. There was a deep sense of rightness in being joined with Heru, there in the place where our bodies held no sway over what we were feeling—over who we were to each other. There, in the At, Heru and I were simply a man and a woman, no pheromones driving our need, no ancient prophecies pushing us together.

We were Heru and Lex, two people who cared for each other beyond words. Just two people, loving each other. We were, I finally realized—finally accepted—so much more than perfect chemistry.

I smiled, just a little, and was pleased by the answering warmth in Heru’s tiger eyes.

The moment I rocked my hips, he groaned and leaned in, capturing my lips once more. It was eons until he released them. And I savored every single second.