Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (71 page)

Just a little bit longer.

Alasdair kissed the tip of her nose, his
strong fingers spearing into her hair. He paused and Morgan knew
what he was going to kiss next. That would definitely take a lot
longer than another second.

But she couldn’t pull away. Fortunately, she
didn’t have to wait long to have those firm lips claim her own.

And Alasdair’s gentle, languid kiss was more
than worth the wait. His lips slid across hers once with aching
deliberation, then returned like a butterfly landing on a tempting
flower. The heat of his mouth imprinted on hers ever so slightly,
as though he asked her permission to continue.

He
asked
, instead of simply taking
what he thought his due.

And given that, there was only one possible
answer. Morgan’s hands slid around Alasdair’s neck without
hesitation. She arched against him, she swore she heard his heart
thump at her small surrender, then Alasdair’s cajoling lips
captured hers.

It was a kiss designed to melt her defenses.
If Morgan hadn’t been so lost in sensation, she might have been
dismayed at how readily those defenses fell. There was a surety in
Alasdair’s embrace that coupled with his gentleness to make Morgan
completely forget about anything other than his kiss.

His hands dropped to her waist and he
gathered her protectively into his arms. It was pure heaven and
Morgan gave herself up to sensation.

Until one strong arm slid over her shoulder,
and a very pungent waft of masculinity recalled Morgan to her
senses.

What was she doing?

Alasdair was trying to take advantage of her
- and she was letting him! Somehow, he had figured out exactly how
to get to her – and she wasn’t stopping him.

Had she lost her mind?

But the sweet heat of Alasdair’s kiss
wouldn’t be that easily dismissed, especially since he chose that
very moment to slip his tongue between her teeth. Morgan just
couldn’t think straight with everything in her body wanting more of
Alasdair’s beguiling touch.

His pledge echoed stubbornly in her ears. He
hadn’t pressed his attentions upon her, so she couldn’t say he had
lied. But she wasn’t exactly holding fast to her own ideas
here.

What Morgan needed was a little time to
think.

By herself.

Which meant that Alasdair had to be kept
busy. Morgan pulled away, hating how her heart lurched when her
lips broke free of his.

And she hated even more that the drowsy
indigo of his eyes made that same heart take off at a gallop. She
noticed the key in the bathroom door and knew exactly how she was
going to get out of this muddle.

All by herself.

“
You need a bath!” Morgan
declared breathlessly.

The highlander grimaced ruefully and gave
his shirt a theatrical whiff. “Aye, I have not had a clean shirt
for at least…”

“
I really don’t need to
know the details,” Morgan interjected. “First things first. You
need to get clean, but quick.”

His lips quirked; his gaze was warm. “Do I,
then?” he rumbled, obviously mistaking her meaning.

Well, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse
in the mouth. She pulled Alasdair into the charmingly Victorian
bathroom and deliberately ignored the way he looked around. It was
a feminine bower in the worst way, a totally romantic room with
ruffles and bows and a clawfoot tub big enough for two.

Morgan refused to think about any of that.
Summoning her most businesslike manner, she turned on the taps in
the tub. The water was steaming hot. “Look, they have one of those
clothesline things, so you can wash out your shirt and leave it
overnight to dry.”

She rummaged through a basket of toiletries
and laid them out in hasty succession, refusing to look back at the
man who lurked right behind her and practically oozed sensual
allure. Morgan heard a rustle of cloth and saw his shirt fall to
the floor out of the corner of her eye.

Dear God, he was getting naked! She had to
get out of the bathroom while she still could.

“
And look!” Morgan was
chattering, but she couldn’t stop. “Soap and shampoo. Even
toothpaste and a brush! Why, you’ll be clean in no time at all.
There’s even detergent, for when you wash out your
shirt…”

Alasdair’s strong hands landed on Morgan’s
shoulders and his breath feathered across her nape. All Morgan
could think of was that bronzed chest almost against her own
back.

She glanced up at the mirror and her heart
stopped at the sight of him looming behind her, his hands closed
possessively around her.

“
Aye, my lady, I will not
keep you waiting long at all,” he murmured. A smile tugged at those
lips, then Alasdair bent to nuzzle her ear. His kiss sent an army
of shivers down Morgan’s spine.

Yikes! Morgan jumped and spun more quickly
than she should have. She caught the edge of the basket with one
flailing hand and sent all the toiletries scattering.

Alasdair bent gallantly to retrieve them and
Morgan saw her chance. She ran for the door but couldn’t resist the
urge to pause for one second.

She had a look. A really good look because
Alasdair without his shirt was worth more than a peek. His back was
superbly muscled and tanned to golden perfection. He looked up, his
hair tousled, those eyes flashing vivid blue as he evidently
guessed her intention.

Or part of it.

He leapt for the doorway.

Morgan slammed it shut behind her in the
nick of time and turned the little key in the lock. She backed
away, the key safe in her grip, as Alasdair rattled the knob.

The lock held. It was one of those really
old-fashioned locks with a churchkey that worked from either
side.

Morgan really hoped there wasn’t a duplicate
in the bathroom.

“
My lady?” Alasdair said
finally, his voice low and heavily disciplined. “What is this you
do?”

“
I think you need time to
cool off,” Morgan said brightly. “I’ll go see about some
dinner.”

Alasdair muttered his dissatisfaction and
jiggled the door knob again, but Morgan beat a hasty retreat. It
was only when she was safe in the corridor, both bathroom key and
room key in her hand, well out of the range of Alasdair’s dangerous
charm, that she let herself recall her fleeting glimpse of his
powerfully muscled chest.

Oh, she would have to keep her distance. She
knew that with her body defected to Alasdair’s side, she couldn’t
trust herself to be alone with him.

But she couldn’t put the kibosh on Justine
and Blake’s conception plans, either. Nope. Somehow Morgan would
have to make it through one night with Alasdair in her room. That
seemed a fair compromise to her. In the morning, she’d lay down the
law.

Justine was going to owe her little sister a
big one for this. At that thought, Morgan knew exactly how she was
going to solve this dilemma. Justine had long ago unwittingly given
Morgan the solution she needed on this night.

Sleeping pills that Morgan carried around
but had never taken.

Perfect.

*

Alasdair was not amused.

The wily sorceress had tricked him again.
The prison she had chosen was an artful one, for there was but a
single tiny window – and this secured so firmly that Alasdair could
not even open it for a proper view of the world outside. The rain
beat against it now with cold intensity.

And a lot of good that rain had done him in
the end. ’Twas true enough that there was more space here than in
the Micra, but Morgaine’s bed was just as inaccessible to him.

In foul temper, Alasdair surveyed his
prison, intrigued despite himself by the water steaming in the tub.
He toyed with it a bit, then resolved he might as well see himself
clean.

That such a deed would please the sorceress
was more than clear. Alasdair set his lips grimly and set to work,
wondering how much else he would do to win Morgaine’s approval
before this battle was won.

His prospects did not appear to be
encouraging, that much was clear.

Perhaps ’twas time again to indulge in a few
more appeals to the laird above. The idea was not all bad, and
Alasdair raised his voice to sing a hymn that was his gran’s
favorite.

*

Alasdair had long been clean, the room had
fallen into shadows and the metal on the wall had been radiating
heat for a goodly while when he heard the room door open. He was on
his feet in a moment, determined to take advantage of any
opportunity Morgaine saw fit to grant him.

But the bathroom door remained locked.

“
My lady?”

“
Hi!” Morgaine called
cheerfully. “How’s your bath?”

“
Quite finished.” Alasdair
couldn’t keep his tone from becoming wry.

Morgaine laughed, which could only be a good
sign. “Sorry to have been so long,” she called again, much too
loudly to Alasdair’s thinking.

A murmur of voices made him snap to
attention. A male voice ’twas. Had she brought some minion to deal
with him?

Or would she taunt him with the sounds of
her lovemaking with another? Alasdair fairly growled at the
prospect, although he told himself ’Twas only her own spell that
fed his protectiveness of the tiny, perfect sorceress.

But a moment later, there was a rattle of
crockery and a most intriguing smell wafted beneath the bathroom
door. Alasdair’s stomach growled mightily at the promise of a
meal.

Or was this yet another kind of torture?

“
Thanks very much,” he
heard Morgaine say. That man murmured in response as the door to
the corridor closed once more.

Alasdair listened closely and heard only one
pair of footsteps treading across the floor.

She was alone once more. Relief coursed
through him and he dared to hope that all turned to his favor
again.

He steeled himself to leap upon the door
when first it opened. A thousand appeals for her indulgence had
been composed and discarded while waited, and now he knew only two
things.

He had to remain in the lady’s presence.

He had to persuade her to trust him, despite
whatever had befallen her before. To that end, he snatched up a
towel and wound it ‘round his waist that she would not be
immediately confronted with the evidence of her effect upon
him.

There was a great deal of banging and
rustling on the other side of the door, and Alasdair pressed his
ear against it to listen. He still could make little sense of what
he heard, but ’twas clear that Morgaine did not immediately come to
his aid.

Surely she did not mean to leave him trapped
in here?

“
My lady?” Alasdair asked,
forcing his words to be polite. “Will you not release
me?”

“
In just a moment,” she
called. Then to his relief, he heard her steps grow
louder.

He checked one last time in the mirror,
reassuring himself that he was cleaner than he had been in many a
day, and summoned his best smile.

“
They only had bangers and
mash – it looks like sausages and mashed potatoes – and beer,”
Morgaine confided cheerfully, her voice very close to the door.
“But you have to take what you can get in these places, I
guess.”

Her tone was so friendly that Alasdair
marveled at it. Had he misread her earlier disapproval of him?
Indeed, she sounded almost willing to continue as they had
ended.

Had she only wanted him to be clean before
they proceeded?

Had she only feared he might not await her
return? Ha! Alasdair would set her straight on that poor
thinking!

“
Hungry?” she asked pertly,
her voice close.

Immensely relieved that his fears of failure
were not about to be realized, Alasdair nodded, even though the
sorceress could not see the gesture. “Aye, that I am.”

And hungered he was for more than his
dinner.

The key turned in the lock and Alasdair’s
heart leapt.

Then the door swung open – to reveal an
empty room.

Alasdair stared. A wee table was set before
one window, a goodly quantity of food steaming upon it. A large bag
stood beside the bed, an array of feminine frippery cast across its
width. The rain pattered down on the windows and a low light
illuminated the room. There was a cot set on the far side of the
room, turned down with fresh linens.

But there was absolutely no sign of the
sorceress.

Fearing a trick, Alasdair took a cautious
trio of steps into the room, only to straighten in shock when
something – or someone – darted past him.

He pivoted just in time to see the door slam
and hear the key grind in the lock again.

Alasdair swore. He darted back and jiggled
the knob, knowing even before he did so that ’twas futile. Finally,
he strode across the room, folded his arms across his chest and
glared at the door.

“
You might as well eat,”
Morgaine declared. “I’m not coming out anytime soon.”

“
But you must eat as well!
Will you not join me at the board?”

“
I already ate.
Enjoy.”

“
And any further protest
Alasdair might have made was drowned out by the rushing of water
into the tub.

Outsmarted again! Alasdair’s pride rankled
that he had been so readily fooled. Curse her!

Did she bathe as well? The prospect conjured
a tempting image, and one that Alasdair would see in truth.

Unable to stop himself, he crossed the room
on silent feet, crouched down, and peered through the tiny
keyhole.

“
Ha!” Morgaine cried from
the other side. “I see what you’re doing!”

Alasdair blinked and sat back as she jammed
something white into the tiny opening. “Do you come to the board
after you bathe?” he dared to ask.