Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (5 page)

Cupping her cheek, he lowered his lips to meet hers. Her tongue came out to caress the seam, and he opened to allow her entry. Each unhurried glide convinced him that his attraction wasn’t one-sided, that he wasn’t simply another temporary lover buying her affection.

After a thorough exploration, she eased away. Covering his hand on her waist, she linked her fingers through his and reached toward Quayde to do the same. “The Fates always know.”

Unsure of her meaning, PC let the statement pass without comment. Did she think fate had brought her to them? He didn’t give a damn how she came to find them—only that she had.

Quayde blinked and yawned. “They know what, darlin’?”

“When and where. Who belongs together.”

When and where
. Wheels turned in PC’s brain. Had he and Quayde been guided to Encanto by some unseen power for the sole purpose of meeting Ilona? He wasn’t about to argue against the assertion that they were supposed to be together. Sharing her might not have crossed his mind, but the act couldn’t have felt more natural. He didn’t like the idea of choosing between her and a lifelong friendship.

Furrowing his brow, Quayde exchanged a quick glance with PC, setting off a warning about the direction of the conversation. “What if the person you’re meant to be with lives somewhere else?”

Her response came in an instant, as if she was sure of the answer. “Then a situation will arise that you travel to that place or to a place where you’ll meet.”

“So you have only one true love? Or two?”

She nodded. “At this moment, I have two true mates. Only if one or both of you should die could another replace you.”

“What if your true mate hasn’t been born yet or has already died when you’re ready for her?” Quayde’s question made PC send him a frown and a glare. Was the idiot trying to make them look crazy? “Do you think it’s possible to travel through time to be with that person?”

Chapter 4

Ilona panicked at Quayde’s question. Did he suspect she’d traveled through time to find him and PC? She’d been certain no one had seen her appear out of nowhere in the small cove of cedar trees. An explanation had been in her plans, but not so soon. They’d never believe and accept that she was a witch with the ability to use transportation spells capable of sending her into the past.

Slowly exhaling, she willed the tension from her body. “I’ve studied a bit of science, and some think time travel is possible.”

PC’s muscles bunched against her back, and his grip on her hand tightened enough for her to guess he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the concept.

Quayde pursed his lips for several moments as if deep in thought. “Let’s use Pax and me for an example. What if we were from, I don’t know, maybe a hundred years in the future? Would we remember who we are and where we lived before we traveled to now? Or do you think we’d forget that stuff?”

A wild idea popped into Ilona’s thoughts, catching her off guard. Had she caused a ripple effect by coming to the nineteenth century to search for her mates? If her true mates had lived in her own time or some other, would they have been pulled to the past to meet her at the predestined moment?
Oh, Goddess, what have I done?

Taking a calming breath, she met Quayde’s gaze. “You’ve forgotten who you are? Do you have amnesia?”

He glanced away. Rolling out of bed, he paced to the door and back again. “I know who I am, and so does PC.”

His defensive tone stung, but she deserved his sudden distance—especially since she’d most likely caused the loss of some of his memories. Although he might not want to admit he’d been dumped in a strange set of circumstances, the more she heard the more she believed her plan or someone else’s interference had caused a major twist in their lives. How could she reassure him and make him trust her? Better yet, how could she make things right?

The mattress shifted as PC sat up, leaning against the mound of pillows. “Quayde and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, Ilona. Since we were little kids. About a month ago—”

“Shut up, Pax. You’re gonna weird her out with that freaky story.” Quayde narrowed his eyes and frowned.

Her subconscious took a second to engage and notice his out-of-place language, but the evidence confirmed her suspicion that they didn’t belong in this time any more than she did. “What did you say, Quayde?”

“I said he’s gonna weird…you…out with…Ah, shit.” He buried his face in hands. “Where the hell did
that
come from?”

Gathering the comforter around her mostly naked body, she sighed and tried to decide how to explain their predicament as she faced Paxton. “My guess is early, um, twenty-first century. The, um, same time I come from.”

He paled, and his eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed twice before any words formed. “Twenty…twenty-first…century? How did you get here?”

The truth itched to get out of her mouth, and she bit her lip to stop the suicidal act. Her dilemma had grown by leaps and bounds. Telling them she normally resided two hundred years in the future was one thing, but revealing that she was a practicing witch was reserved for mates after several days of wildly passionate sex and getting to know each other. If she told them now, they’d probably have her committed or burned at the stake—and any memories of her existence would have to be wiped clean by Great Grandmother, who didn’t even know where Ilona was.

She tasted blood as she settled on a reasonable answer that finally developed in her brain. “Time travel
does
exist.”
Sort of.

“Okay. That explains how you got here, but how did PC and I get here?” Dropping to the end of the bed, Quayde turned to face her. His jaw twitched, hinting at his discomfort.

That’s what I’d like to know.
Her cousin’s mates had been accidently spelled into a painting with Kata by her apprentice. Lujza’s knights had already lived in the past when she’d traveled to the fourteenth century to recover a spellbook, and Orsolya’s Protectors had been born a hundred years before they met her on a doomed pirate ship almost three hundred years before Orsolya had been born. Had someone sent Ilona’s men to eighteen-forty Texas and wiped their memories of the future? Or had the Fates played a hand in the meeting?

A knot formed in her stomach as another possibility came to mind.
Kazmer?
Did he know who her mates were? Their lives could be in danger if that was the case.

Ilona’s long hesitation and the nervous gesture of biting her lip raised too many red flags in Quayde’s head to ignore. She was hiding a secret. Whether it had to do with her appearance in the nineteenth century or his and PC’s, he could only guess. Not that he blamed her for keeping quiet. She had to have some of the same misgivings he had about trusting a story like that to a near stranger.

He strode to the pile of clothes on the floor, donning his pants before tossing the other pair to Pax. “Are you hungry, darlin’?”

With every passing minute, her expression became more serious. Her hair fell forward to hide her face when she looked down at her lap. She shook her head and seemed to hunch tighter into herself.

As PC scooted off the mattress to fasten his trousers, a knock sounded. Since he was closest, Quayde answered the door, opening it a few inches to see who was interrupting their strange, complicated conversation.

Miss Wyndham pushed by him carrying a serving tray. She set it on the vanity table near the bed. “I brought lunch as you’re likely to be indisposed for most of the afternoon. Enjoy, my dear. Gentlemen.”

She exited as quickly as she’d entered, closing the door behind her. Silence ruled once more. Awkward silence. What should’ve been a relaxing meal would likely be tense and uncomfortable.

Ilona still sat wrapped in her cocoon, probably waiting for him and PC to follow her employer out of the room. Her withdrawal couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d hung a “Do Not Disturb” sign around her sexy little neck.

I’ll be damned if I’m giving up that easily.
Somebody had dropped his ass in this place and time for a reason, and he was pretty sure the reason was Ilona. Accepting the concept of time travel alarmed him less since her admission that she’d experienced it too. She hadn’t said who had sent her, though, and she seemed to have her memories intact.

Needing food to puzzle over all his questions, he aimed for the tray. Wisps of steam rose from three bowls of savory stew, and butter melted on the tops of half a dozen biscuits. Not a pinto bean in sight.
Hallelujah!

His mouth watered as he carried the first helping to Ilona. “Careful. It’s hot.”

PC frowned and then lifted her to sit beside him, placing a pillow on her lap. “Set it here. I’d rather be blamed for dirty bedding than a nasty burn.”

Her forehead scrunched up like she might protest, but she stayed silent, not reaching for the dish or even acknowledging either of them. Her gaze seemed to focus on the acres of decorations hanging from the bedposts.

When a woman wouldn’t speak, the man was usually in trouble.
I don’t need my past to know that.

Handing the bowl of stew to PC, Quayde returned to the tray for a biscuit. “Come on, Ilona. You need to eat, darlin’.”

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded. Glancing between him and Pax, her lips curved upward. “Yes, of course.”

Although she seemed to agree with his request, Quayde’s instincts told him she wasn’t necessarily talking about the same thing he was. Not about to argue, he gave her the biscuit and went back for another serving.

Concentrating on his lunch, he kept his mouth full of food so as not to put his foot in it again. Women were a confounding lot. Hopefully, he and PC would keep Ilona distracted enough to avoid any more misunderstandings.

She took several bites of the thick stew, nibbling on the biscuit in between until it was gone. Moving the pillow aside, she wiggled her way to the edge of the bed and stood. The cups of the corset pushed up her tits, emphasizing their fullness and her narrow waist. The round cheeks of her bare ass finished a perfect hourglass shape and triggered a hard-on that required Quayde to shift his position. A glance at PC assured him his friend was every bit as awestruck by her body.

The sway of her hips mesmerized Quayde as she walked to the dresser and set her dish on the tray. Without turning, she reached for the back laces on her corset, untying the bow. A deep inhale loosened the crisscrossing strings, and the undergarment slipped downward a couple inches. He barely held in a groan when she pushed it past her lush curves, wiggling her ass until the garment slid down her legs.

She stepped free of the corset and lifted a dressing gown from the frame of the mirror above the dresser. A few seconds later, a thin layer of fabric concealed her beautiful form. She obviously wasn’t as ready for round two as he was.

Scooping the last bite of stew, he waited for her to tell him and Pax the party was over. He’d have to be satisfied with a few kisses, some nipple sucking, and coming in her incredible mouth. For now.

Her hands rose to gather the hair at her nape. Dividing the long strands into three sections, she wove the hanks into a neat braid, transforming her red-brown waves from sensuous to prim. “May I ask you a few questions about what happened when you…appeared here?”

Determination to find out the truth outweighed any reluctance to venture down that road. “Ask away, darlin’.”

PC climbed off the bed with his empty dish in hand. When he stepped toward the dresser, she moved away. “Will you sit with us, Ilona?”

“I can’t think with you that close.” Stopping near the door, she stood with her back to them. “I can’t even look at you without wanting to fuck you both.”

Her choice of words made Quayde’s balls tighten and his breath catch. He’d gladly tell her anything she wanted to know so they could continue exploring more of the sexual possibilities. “Then let’s get this conversation done, ’cause I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Ilona’s barely audible moan lit a scorching flame in PC’s veins. He’d experienced hormone-driven lust, but this attraction, the
need
to have her, was something much stronger. She drew him to her like no other woman had before—enough that he’d risked getting her pregnant by having sex with her.

Shit! I didn’t use protection.
His stomach knotted. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t succumb to his body’s demands unless he was absolutely certain he’d found the girl he planned to marry, and he’d wear condoms until they were ready to have kids. Being the unwanted product of a casual liaison had influenced his life beyond measure. Images of several unfamiliar people flicked through his mental vision. They were always shoving him out the door with someone new. After a few years of relatives passing him from one to the next, he’d ended up in a home for boys, where he met Quayde.

A wave of lightheadedness had him steadying himself against the dresser. “I remember. We grew up in a children’s services facility. I was five when an aunt dropped me off, and Quayde was already there.”

The color drained from his friend’s face. “Every time they sent one of us to foster care, we’d run away because they wouldn’t take both of us. Finally, they gave up. No one wanted two teenage boys.”