Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (74 page)

“
Shampoo?”

“
To wash my
hair.”

“
Ah!”

Then Morgan was folded against his chest,
her lungs filled with the scent of him, his hands working up a
lather in her hair like an expert. Her breasts were slightly
crushed against his chest, the afterglow of her orgasm still
throbbed through her veins. His erection nudged against her belly,
and Morgan melted beneath his touch.

If heaven was anything short of this moment,
Morgan didn’t want to go.

All too soon, Alasdair gripped her shoulders
and backed her into the shower stream again. “Rinse,” he dictated
and when Morgan lifted her hands to ease the shampoo out of her
hair, Alasdair’s hands cupped her breasts.

Morgan’s heart jumped but she didn’t step
away. Alasdair teased her nipples in a most distracting way, and
she admitted she was prolonging the moment as much as possible.

Because Morgan knew that this was It. She
braced herself for him to make a move on her and opened her eyes,
but Alasdair had stepped out of the shower.

Leaving Morgan alone.

She peeked around the curtain and watched
him dry himself off. She cleared her throat. “Um. What about
you?”

“
I believe I am clean, as
well.”

“
No, I mean about, well,
about
that
.” Morgan’s face burned as she indicated his
erection.

Alasdair grinned, then shrugged. “’Tis a
state I grow accustomed to in your presence, my lady.”

Then he wrapped a towel around his waist and
left.

Left?

“
Wait a minute!” Morgan
stumbled out of the shower, nearly slipping on the slick tub as she
turned off the water. She darted out of the bathroom, leaving a
trail of wet footprints.

Alasdair stood at one window, watching her,
arms folded across his bare chest. Morgan pointed back to the
bathroom with rising frustration, hating how one good look at him
awakened all those impulses that were safer locked away.

Morgan felt ruffled and disoriented, and
didn’t like it. Didn’t Alasdair find her attractive after all? Was
he just teasing her? But then, shouldn’t she be glad they hadn’t
done more? She tried to blame her feminine pride for the confusing
jumble of pride and disappointment.

“
I thought you wanted me!”
Morgan blurted out, hating the tinge of hurt revealed in her
words.

Alasdair’s slow smile heated her blood with
dangerous ease. “Make no mistake, my lady, I do.”

“
Then, what…”

“
Morgaine.”

That single low word silenced Morgan’s
outburst. That blue, blue gaze made her words stick in her
throat.

Alasdair’s voice was low with intent.
“Believe me, my lady, I desire you as never I have desired a woman
before. But know this. I see that men have played poorly with your
affections, and I would have you trust me, for naught good happens
between the linens before trust is forged.”

Alasdair crossed the room with quick steps,
capturing her chin in one broad palm. Morgan was stunned by the
sincerity gleaming in his eyes.

“
Believe this, Morgaine,”
he insisted with an intensity that melted her bones. “You have but
to invite me to your bed, and I will spend my every breath in
bringing pleasure to us both.”

Morgan blinked but he was perfectly serious.
And she did believe him.

Part of her wanted to issue that invitation
right now.

The other part, though, managed to speak up.
After all, Alasdair had a wife.

Didn’t he?

“
What about your
wife?”

Alasdair grimaced. “Ah, the beautiful
Fenella.” His expression turned grim. “What would you know of
her?”

The confirmation that his wife existed, the
admission of her name and her beauty combined to make Morgan’s
heart clench. And that packed a more powerful punch than she could
have expected. Before, she had only feared that Fenella existed –
knowing the truth changed everything.

Especially Morgan’s assessment of Alasdair’s
character. Men were all the same, and hoping otherwise didn’t
change anything. Morgan felt sick at what she had nearly done.

She had almost replayed a familiar scene,
and she didn’t like the role she found herself acting.

Revulsion made her tone harsh. “How dare you
touch me like that?” Morgan flung out her hands in frustration.
“How can you practically dare me to invite you to my bed, then
calmly ask what I want to know about your wife? Don’t your marriage
vows mean anything to you?”

Alasdair frowned, then shook his head. His
gaze locked with hers once more. “’Tis a long tale.”

Morgan knew her skepticism showed. Matt
would have said pretty much the same thing. There was always an
excuse.

“
I’ll bet.” Morgan heard
the bitterness in her tone. She stalked back into the bathroom and
began to towel herself off roughly.

It made absolutely no sense that she was
fighting against tears. How could she have misjudged Alasdair so
completely? He wasn’t at all the man she thought he was, let alone
as compassionate and wonderful as she had believed.

How could she have been so stupid?

Morgan completely ignored the large shadow
that loomed in the bathroom doorway just a moment later.

“
I shall make you a
bargain, my lady,” Alasdair finally said softly. “I will tell you
of my wife, if you share with me the tale of your hatred of whisky
’Twas a man at root, unless I miss my guess, and I would know the
manner of cur who has scarred you so deeply.”

Morgan’s head snapped up and she stared at
Alasdair. He looked so sincere that she was tempted once more to
trust him. And that made her doubt her conclusions.

Was she judging him too harshly? What if he
really did have a good reason?

Didn’t she at least owe him a chance to
explain?

Alasdair had promised not to try to get the
crystal from her and he hadn’t. He had saved her from being mugged.
He had sworn off whisky apparently just to please her. He let her
know he was attracted to her, but what happened was always up to
Morgan.

She fingered the towel and considered the
facts. Alasdair did rant and rave a bit, but flinging words was not
the same as flinging fists. She had to concede that his situation
couldn’t be easy. He made a great fuss over keeping his word, a
trait that Morgan found quite admirable. And Alasdair
apologized.

Matt had never done any of those things.

Morgan peeked through her lashes at the
highlander. The simple fact was that Alasdair hadn’t broken his
marriage vows. He had pleasured her and stepped away.

And Morgan wanted to know the whole story.
She dared to hope that all men weren’t like Matt.

No, she dared to hope that this man wasn’t
like Matt.

Not only that, but Morgan found it oddly
appealing to be offered the chance to talk about Matt. No one knew
what he had done, not even Justine, and Morgan had the sense that
it was time to let the pain of the past go.

The best way to do that was to share the
story.

Morgan had an instinctive sense that
Alasdair would not judge her because of what had happened. It was
time to tell someone and she wanted to tell him. Hadn’t he been the
one who had insisted that telling took the sting out of bad
news?

“
All right.” Morgan nodded
agreement. “But maybe we should get some breakfast
first.”

Alasdair grinned. “Aye, I knew from first
glance that you were a woman of good sense.”

*

The sorceress fiddled with the last of her
toast as though she knew she could delay no longer. She had donned
another pair of those tights that tormented Alasdair, tossing a
vivid blue and green sweater over her shoulders. Her yet damp hair
had been bound back in some semblance of order. The sunlight
streaming through the window above the table painted blue lights in
its drying curls.

But ’twas the vulnerability in her emerald
eyes that tore at his heart this morning. Alasdair waited
patiently, sipping at the vile brew she called tea. ’Twas clear
enough that this tale would not be easy in the telling for her, and
he was humbled that she had accepted his invitation to recount
it.

Morgan flicked him a very green glance, and
Alasdair knew ’twas time.

“
I was married before,” she
confessed tightly. This was part of her history that Alasdair did
not recall from his gran’s tales, though he supposed he should not
have been surprised. Within the eternity of an immortal’s life,
surely there would be moments of love?

Morgaine sighed. “I’m not really sure why,
although at the time, it seemed to be the thing to do. We met at
art school, you know, and he always knew what to do when I didn’t.”
She shrugged. “I guess I admired him. He had so much
self-assurance.”

“
Had he a name?”

She smiled quickly then, though the curve
vanished almost as soon as it appeared. “Matt. Matthew James
Reilly. He graduated and got a good job in an advertising agency,
then he thought it was time to get married, so we did.”

Her school of arts was obviously where the
great sorcerors went to hone their skills, though Alasdair had no
understanding of an advertising agency. It seemed to have little
import, other than motivating this Matt to propose marriage, so he
did not interrupt her tale. No doubt ’twas only a sign that Matt
had proven himself.

Morgaine frowned into her cup. “For a while
everything was wonderful. We found a good apartment overlooking the
lake and I kept on with my classes. He came home from work and we
cooked together, that kind of thing.” Her lips twisted. “Maybe
because it once was good, when it got bad, things seemed
worse.”

Alasdair felt a pang of jealousy. There had
never been a day without strife in his marriage. That it had always
been strife willfully created by Fenella and for her own
entertainment made the truth no easier to bear.

Morgaine leaned forward. “You see, I thought
it would be nice to start a family. I really like kids.” Alasdair’s
heart tightened at the sparkle that just the thought brought to her
eyes.

He had to look away when the spark was
quenched.

“
But Matt didn’t want any
ties. At all. We started to fight, about every stupid little thing.
He started to not come home. I started to wonder whether those ties
he didn’t want included me.”

The shadow that fell over her delicate
features showed the pain that even the memories caused. Her next
words were husky. “We even stopped making love. It was awful. He
didn’t touch me at all. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid
touching me.”

This then, was why she had such doubts of
her allure. Alasdair realized why she had been so upset when he
stepped away from her in the shower and wished he had known this
tale sooner.

“
There is naught amiss with
your charms, my lady,” he assured her with passion, and that wan
smile flashed briefly again.

“
Well. Maybe.” She
shrugged. “Anyway, when I finally worked up the nerve to ask what
was wrong, things got ugly fast. Matt accused me of wanting to
trick him into creating a child, but I would never have done that.”
She looked sadly at him. “How could I have brought a child into a
marriage where it wasn’t wanted? How could I have done that to a
little baby?”

Alasdair shook his head firmly, hating that
he had not been as farsighted as the sorceress before him. “You
could not.”

She shook her head adamantly. “I couldn’t
have done it.” She heaved a sigh and tears shone in her eyes. “But
he didn’t believe me. It was terrible, being married to someone who
thinks the worst of you.”

“’
Twas no more than a
reflection of his own heart,” Alasdair declared. The sorceress
looked up, a question lurking in those wondrous eyes. “Those with
dark hearts accuse all those around them of planning foul crimes. I
have seen this often.”

“
Maybe.” Morgaine played
with her cup, and Alasdair knew there was yet more. He leaned
forward and captured her nervous fingers, alarmed to feel them
tremble within his grip.

The sorceress did not pull her hand away,
but she did not look at Alasdair either. “He, um, started to drink.
I mean, he always drank, but he drank a lot more.”

This then was the source of her concerns
about whisky. Alasdair closed his hand firmly over hers and hung
on.

“
And he changed so much
when he was drunk. He was awful, shouting accusations and throwing
things, storming out and not coming home all night. All I had to do
was ask how his day had been to set him off. It was horrible.”
Morgaine grimaced as Alasdair watched. “But it was worse when he
wanted to have sex.”

“
When he was fou as a
puggie?”

Morgan frowned, clearly not
understanding.

“
When he was drunken,”
Alasdair clarified.

Morgaine smiled slightly, though the
merriment did not reach her eyes. “Well, it didn’t work most of the
time. You know how it is. And he blamed me for that, calling me all
sorts of names.” He voice caught. “Then I found out that he was
sleeping with other women. We had a huge fight. I refused to let
him into our bed.” Her expression turned rueful at the
recollection.

Morgaine fidgeted but Alasdair did not
release his grip on her fingers. She unwillingly lifted her gaze to
his, and he saw the truth he would have her utter aloud.

“
Did ever he strike
you?”

A tear shimmered in her luminous eyes. “Just
once.”

Anger erupted within Alasdair. She was so
finely wrought, so tiny and perfect, even the fingers trapped
within his grasp were delicate beyond all. How could any many lift
a hand against her? What manner of boor would see the need to
strike such a creature?