CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bud checked out of the Parkwood so fast that the landlady thought she had done something to offend him. He assured her that everything had been wonderful and thanked her for a lovely stay even as Kieran and Rory grabbed the luggage and threw it haphazardly into Corbin’s car. Certainly not the activities of well-satisfied guests, but Bud continued to smile as he paid the bill. The poor landlady made every effort to believe him even if actions spoke louder than words.
Bud finally emerged from the hotel only to find Kieran in the passenger seat examining the dashboard as Rory explained the panel’s function. Had he not been so eager to put distance between them and the hotel, he would have had little patience for the man’s play-acting. And Rory’s willingness to go along.
All irritation aside, Bud had no idea where he was going or what they were going to do. Even though he was driving a stolen car, he assumed that Corbin had no intention of reporting it to the police; were that the case, Rory could easily press assault charges against him for breaking into her hotel room and roughing her up. And Bud had quite a bruise on his jaw, more evidence of Corbin’s unethical brutality.
So at least for the moment, he was certain they were reasonably safe. Driving away from Hyde Park, Bud headed north on Edgewater Road and skirted Regent’s Park, trying to find his way out of the city. He was so involved with his right-side driving that he hardly noticed Kieran’s stiff stand. Only by accident did he pass a glance at the man’s ashen face.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, trying to drive and deduce Kieran’s condition at the same time.
Rory leaned forward from the back seat, concerned, as Kieran shrugged weakly. It was only then that she noticed his bug-eyed expression.
“This car… the speed at which it travels is astounding,” he muttered, pounding his head on the ceiling when they hit a rut.
Rory smiled, putting her hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “I usually react to Bud’s driving the same way, Kieran. You’re not alone.”
Bud, gripping the steering wheel with two hands, cast her a threatening glance. “Instead of insulting me, you should be figuring out where we’re going.”
She kept her hand on Kieran’s shoulder, leaning forward between the front seats. “Hey, you’re the one driving like you have a plan.”
Bud’s ice-blue eyes were focused on the road. He swerved around a corner and Kieran grunted as he bashed into the passenger door. After a few minutes of wild driving and deliberation, Bud came up with an idea.
“All right; first thing, we’ve got to ditch this car,” he said, abruptly pulling to the side of the road. “And look over there; the underground. Let’s get on and go as far as it’ll take us. Even if Corbin finds his car and realizes we’ve taken the subway, there are a dozen stations we could have disembarked at. It’ll take him days to pick up our trail.”
If Kieran thought Bud’s driving had been terrifying, the underground was beyond comprehension. Rory sat beside him, holding his hand as he sweat rivers and tried not to become ill. She felt sorry for him, having never experienced speed of this magnitude before, and in spite of everything he managed to maintain his composure exceptionally well. But when they disembarked at Cockfosters station, she half-expected him to sink to his knees and kiss the ground.
But even if he didn’t give thanks to the solid earth, it was obvious that he was pleased to be off the terror train. As Rory congratulated him on surviving the trip, Bud ignored the warm praise and led them away from the depot in search of lodgings. In fact, he had fairly ignored them both since entering the subway, pretending he hadn’t witnessed the handholding or Rory’s gentle murmurs of encouragement.
And still, as they moved along the quieting streets of the rural subdivision, Bud seemed fixed on finding them a place to hide. But Rory was acutely aware of what he must be feeling in spite of his aloof appearance; how the woman he loved was showing the affection to another man.
Cockfosters was more provincial than urban London and Kieran seemed more comfortable in the rural surroundings than he had in the heart of the city. The soft green of the meadows and the smell of the air invigorated him, relaying the timeless quality of the country he had once known. Bud found a small bed and breakfast across the street from a playing field, checking them into two separate rooms and paying with travelers cheques.
Rory’s room was beautiful with large French doors that opened into a lovely garden. Kieran followed her into the room and set his black bag down, much to Bud’s dismay. Handholding was one thing, but if this guy thought he was going to stay in the same room as Rory…. Setting his own luggage down in the large room with two single beds, he went back to Rory’s chamber just as Kieran opened the French doors and drew in a deep breath of his beloved England.
Rory was in the bathroom. Bud could hear the water running and he eyed Kieran, moving toward the massive man as he inspected the lock on the French door. Kieran caught sight of Bud, pointing to the dead-bolt.
“This is a remarkable device,” he commented, turning the key to expose the bolt. “Much more pleasing to the eye without the hindrance of ungainly external bolts. But these doors,” he thumped them and the panels shuddered. “Too weak. A gaggle of children could break them to pieces.”
Bud watched him, not unaware of the fact that this was the first time he had been alone with the imposter. As Rory remained behind the bathroom door, Bud found his irritation with the man returning.
“Look, pal,” he said quietly. “Rory and I are in a load of trouble and we don’t need to continue this stupid charade of yours. Maybe you can convince my colleague that you’re her knight in shining armor, but I’m not as gullible as she is and I’m finished playing games. Now, just who in the hell are you really?”
Kieran looked up from the door, his expression customarily calm. “’Tis no charade, I assure you. I am Sir Kieran Hage.”
Bud pursed his lips with frustration. “Bull. You’re the best actor I’ve seen and you really should be in movies, but don’t give me any more of your crap. I just want to know who you are.”
Kieran removed his hands from the brass deadbolt, fixing Bud in the eye. “My lord, I am not a performer. I am a knight. Present me with a sword and I shall prove my point. And I shall prove it on your liver if you continue to accuse me of lies.”
Before Bud could challenge Kieran’s declaration, the bathroom door opened and Rory emerged, shoeless and without her sweater. Ignoring the two men, she went to her luggage and began rummaging through the case.
“Do I have time to take a shower, Bud?” she asked. “I promise I won’t take long, but I’m really filthy.”
The two men watched her as she drew forth clothing and other personal items. “Yeah, you’ve got time,” Bud said, crossing his arms and lingering on his frustration. “No hurry, honey. It’ll give your friend and me a chance to… talk.”
She looked up from her suitcase, eyeing Bud’s stiff stance and Kieran’s calm expression. And as she continued to watch the two men, a thought suddenly occurred to her; clearly, Bud still didn’t believe Kieran was who he said he was. Maybe if he were to spend some time with Kieran, alone, he might come to see the truth. Or maybe he would end up dead. There was only one way to find out.
“Kieran needs to take a shower, too,” she said, rummaging through her overnight bag again. Drawing forth a wrapped bar of soap and a sample-size bottle of shampoo, she extended them to Bud. “He knows how a shower works, but we’ve never really discussed shampoo and soap and shaving cream. Can you please help him, Bud?”
Bud stared at her. “Christ, Rory….”
He was unwilling to take the offered items and Rory moved to him, shoving them into his palm. “You’ll need to demonstrate how a razor works, too. And don’t let him scald himself with the hot water.”
Bud looked to the products in his hand, shaking his head after a moment. “Look, I think I’ve been a pretty good sport up until now. But I refuse to…”
“Fine,” Rory extended her hand to Kieran. “Then I’ll take him in the shower with me.”
With a smirk on his face, Kieran was already unbuttoning his shirt. “Gladly,” he murmured seductively.
“Wait a minute!” Bud put up his hands. Glaring at the big man, who merely continued to grin, he shook his head in a gesture of defeat. “All right, you win. Go take your shower and I’ll… baby sit him.”
Rory smiled, patting Bud on the cheek. “Thanks, Bud,” casting a lingering glance at Kieran, who openly returned her gaze, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
Bud was lingering on her, too, but for a different reason. No matter how resistant he was to her foolish story and the presence of the man with the heavy accent, it would seem that he was nonetheless willing to accept the unacceptable. He still didn’t believe their tale and knew he never would, but somehow, that didn’t prevent him from doing as she had asked.
Christ, what an idiot he was.
“Come on,” he growled to Kieran.
The knight followed without another word.
*
Maybe it was a good thing that Bud saw Kieran in the shower. Maybe it was a good thing that he saw the multitude of scars, the heavily muscled legs, the callouses on the inside of his knees from hours and hours in the saddle. Furthermore, Kieran didn’t have any inoculation scars and he hadn’t been circumcised. And the healed wound across his left forearm was a truly impressive sight. Certainly, seeing the man nude had been an enlightening, if not odd, experience.
Bud could have attributed the scars to Rugby or another sport, but they were too cleanly done. As if he had been smoothly sliced. And the thick callouses on his knees were void of hair, defying any other logical explanation than what Bud knew to be the only possibility. Even if the mystery man was an avid rider, Bud could hardly see him astride a long-legged gelding riding the hounds; he was far too large, too rugged, and just plain raw. He simply didn’t fit the mold.
But he fit the mold of a man destined to spend his life on the back of a charger. Bud tried to distance himself from that idea as he watched Kieran fumble with the shampoo, getting it in his eyes. He had no idea what a washcloth was, soaping his bare skin and commenting on the smell and texture of the soap before rinsing himself and splashing water all over the floor.
Bud continued to observe, feeling like a voyeur when in fact he continued to stare at Kieran in an attempt to convince himself that the man was not who he said he was. For the first time since meeting the mysterious stranger, a true seed of credence had been implanted in Bud’s mind and he struggled to keep it from growing out of control.
A seed, however, that would not be quashed as Kieran emerged from the shower and proceeded to shave. His fingers were so big that he had difficulty maneuvering Bud’s razor, and the awkward event became a complete disaster when he squirted shaving cream all over the sink. Bud merely shrugged, wiped it up, and dispensed the cream into Kieran’s hand himself. When Kieran struggled to apply it, Bud took pity on the man and smeared it on his face. Lifting the razor, he demonstrated its use.
It went slowly, but Kieran managed to come through his modern shaving experienced without a cut. He had no idea what a comb was for, having only had experience with heavy brushes, and ran his finger though his dark blond hair to dry it. When Bud proposed he brush his teeth with a spare toothbrush, Kieran raised an eyebrow and did as he was told as Bud talked him through it. He nearly choked on the strong-tasting toothpaste, but somehow managed to emerge unscathed.
Back in his new Levis and a mustard-color mock turtleneck that emphasized his magnificent chest to the hilt, he put his boots on carefully and tied the strangest knot Bud had ever seen. The more time he spent with the man, observing his natural manner and genuine behavior, the more Bud found himself leaning toward the concept of believing his story. And the more real confusion he experienced.
Dead men don’t awaken!
Rory pounded on the door as Bud was changing his shirt. Kieran opened the door for her, a bit too eagerly for Bud’s taste, and she swept in to the room in the dress she had purchased at Fortnum and Mason. Kieran’s eyes glittered as he drank in the sight of her beautiful naked legs, outrageously smooth, and the way the dress seemed to cling in all the right places. Her long chestnut hair was perfect, her make-up flawless, and she ate up the attention as Kieran put her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“Don’t you think it’s a little cold to be wearing that dress?” Bud’s voice was stern as he finished with the last button.
Rory shrugged faintly. “I’ve got a sweater,” pulling her hand from Kieran’s grip when she noted Bud’s expression, she moved to the window overlooking the street below. “Did you see the pub across the street? Maybe we can go there for dinner.”
Bud had been looking at Kieran as she spoke, the way the man’s gaze seemed to fairly reek with lust. More than his own spurned feelings for Rory, the urge to protect her against the mystery man was a powerful thing indeed. Christ, he thought he might truly go mad were he to allow himself to linger on the fact that Rory was deeply taken with the guy, but he fought the pain, the anger, and the deep-seated anguish.
Were he to openly display his jealousy, it would only serve to drive her away from him even further. And until he could find a way to chase off the glorious imposter, a man who claimed he was a corpse returned to life, he would simply have to accept a situation he was helpless at the moment to alter. Even if it killed him.
And it just might.
“Yeah,” he responded belatedly to her question, glancing at his watch. “We’ll grab a bite and go to bed early.”
Rory smiled happily; after fourteen months on the sands of Nahariya, she was ready for a bit of nightlife. Stopping by her room to pick up her sweater and purse, she preceded Bud and Kieran down the stairs and across the street. The pub was brightly lit, full of smoke and music. An Irish band played loudly in one corner of the establishment as the laughter and the liquor flowed freely.
There were mostly younger people, one group exhibiting a myriad of pierced body parts as Rory pushed into the place with Bud and Kieran in tow. They took a seat against the windows overlooking the bed and breakfast, ordering ham steaks and French fries and beer from the limited menu. When the dark brew came, Bud ignored the fact that he couldn’t drink alcohol and downed nearly the entire glass as Kieran diverted his attention from Rory long enough to study the make-up of the room.
“Why would they puncture themselves in such a manner?” he asked, pointing to the collection of youths with pierced eyebrows and noses.
Rory shrugged, tasting her drink. “Who knows? I think they like the attention of people staring at them, wondering why they would suffer the pain of piercing sensitive parts of the body.”
He turned to look at her then, studying her closely. A massive hand come up, fondling her earrings. “You have punctured your ears, too. Why would you endure the pain of this for the attention it draws?”
Bud found that question funny for some reason. He snorted, drinking the rest of his beer and ordering another. But Rory simply shrugged again, relishing the sensation of Kieran touching her sensitive lobes.
“It’s different with pierced ears,” she said. “Almost all women pierce their ears because it’s easier to keep your earrings in place. Women of your time pierced their ears, too.”
He removed his fingers from her velvet-ear, reluctantly. “Not many. Mostly the French and their corrupt ideals of physical beauty.”
Bud was into his second glass of beer, the alcohol in his veins wreaking havoc with his composure and loosening his tongue. “What about you? You’ve got scars all over your body and now you have the nerve to look down your nose at people who pierce their ears?”
Kieran collected his glass for the first time, eyeing Bud as he spoke. “My scars were not by choice. I have years of fighting and tournaments to thank for my haggard appearance.”
Bud rolled his eyes and looked away, draining his glass. Kieran watched him a moment, taking a swallow of his own beer and nearly choking on it. When Rory saw his reaction, she called the barmaid over and ordered him the strongest beer in the house. His tar-colored drink arrived just as the food came and Kieran delved into both with gusto.
If watching the man shower had been an interesting experience, watching him eat was a real education in Medieval manners. Bud hardly touched his food as he watched Kieran literally inhale the ham steak, chow down on the fries, and then take the liberty of finishing Rory’s food before she had barely taken three bites. To top it all off, he belched loudly and called the barmaid ‘wench’ when ordering more food. Bud was astounded.
“Jesus Christ…” he murmured as Kieran ate the lettuce-and-radish garnish while waiting for his second round of dinner.
Rory was well aware of the man’s manners and merely lifted her shoulders. “You should have seen him at breakfast, Bud. Eating like he hadn’t eaten in eight hundred years.”
Bud shook his head, draining his drink. The table manners of the man across from him were nothing short of barbaric, something that was completely natural him and not in the least contrived. After the experience with the shower and shaving, to observe Kieran’s table manners only brought Bud closer and closer to believability of his story.
As remarkable as it was, as impossible as it seemed, Bud couldn’t shake the burgeoning seed of credence. Maybe Rory was right; maybe there were things in this world that were unexplainable, like UFO’s and ghosts and reincarnation. And maybe the man sucking down the ham steak in three huge bites was a product of one of those unexplainable phenomenon that were difficult to comprehend and even more difficult to believe.
Bud just couldn’t seem to shake the growing probability.
“Kieran,” he said softly, watching the gem-clear brown eyes come up from the plate. Even Rory looked at Bud; it was the first time he had openly used the knight’s name and she was understandably surprised. But Bud ignored her eager expression, singularly focused on the man that was growing in authenticity before his very eyes. “If such a thing was possible and I’m not saying it is, I want you to tell me again; precisely how did this alchemist preserve your life?”
Kieran swallowed the bite in his mouth, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Rory, hardly daring to feel some hope in Bud’s question, handing him a napkin and watched carefully as he cleaned his hand and pondered his reply.
“To be truthful, my lord, I do not know the details,” he said softly. “I can recall drinking a series of bitter brews as the alchemist told me he had been working the majority of his life to discover an elixir for immortality. Although he claimed he could quite easily put a man to sleep and thereby preserve him forever in a suspended state, the difficulty was apparently in the awakening.”
“But you awakened.”
Kieran nodded. “Only by the strongest of human emotions. The lady loves me, therefore, her kiss was the catalyst needed to rouse me from my eternal sleep.”
Rory blushed dully, staring at her plate. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Bud. But she could feel his eyes on her nonetheless. After a moment, his fork hit the plate and he took her half-empty beer glass and drained it.
“I see,” he said quietly. “But you have no idea what was in these potions you drank?”
Kieran, having no idea of the situation between Bud and Rory, was oblivious to her embarrassment and his shattered heart. In answer to Bud’s question, he merely shook his head. “None. But as I was fading off into blissful unconsciousness, I seemed to recall the alchemist mentioning succotrine aloes, zedoary gentian, saffron and rhubarb. I apologize that I am unable to recollect more.”
Bud was lodged in his chair, Rory’s beer glass in his hand and his ice-blue eyes glittering at the man across the table. He was about to continue the conversation when someone turned on a television over the bar and Kieran’s eyes widened.
“Look!” he hissed. “God’s Blood, what is that?”
Rory looked up from her plate, hoping her red cheeks weren’t terribly obvious in the dim lighting of the pub. “A television. It’s like… like if you were going to see a play, except this machine brings the entertainment directly into your home or business. You can simply sit and enjoy it.”
He stared at the American program, completely with women in red bathing suits and his eyebrows rose. “God’s Blood, the women are… indecent. They are practically nude!”
Bud was observing him critically, noting his genuine awe and realizing this guy really meant what he said. Passing a glance at the T.V., he caught the barmaid’s attention and ordered another drink. “Yeah, they are,” he sighed heavily. “This whole world is indecent. Damn confusion and indecent.”
Rory looked to Bud, wanting to comfort him in the midst of his heartache and puzzlement but somehow not feeling that her consolation was appropriate. After all, she was the one who had rejected his advances when she had been cruel enough to encourage him. But she had been confused herself, wallowing in self-doubt and pity regarding the outcome of her dig and the very future itself.
Bud was a wonderful man and she loved him dearly in a companionable sort of way, and she had been somewhat willing to pursue an intimate relationship between them for her own foolish reasons. But that had been before the introduction of Sir Kieran; now, she realized the only man she had ever loved was living and breathing before her and as much as she hated to hurt Bud, she had to remain true to her heart. No matter what the cost.
And the cost was already high. As Kieran marveled at the miracle of the television, she looked to Bud only to note he was staring at the knight. And the pain, the confusion, she saw in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Libby, how do they get the people inside the box?” Kieran broke into her train of thought. “Is your age so advanced that they can do this?”
Rory tore her eyes away from Bud, looking to the amazed knight. “The people aren’t inside the box. They’re on film, or at a studio, and… boy, I’m way out of my league on this one. Care to help me, Bud?”
The barmaid brought Bud’s beer and Kieran’s food. Bud accepted the drink, taking a long swallow before answering.
“Actually, I’m more interested in talking about Sir Kieran,” he said, the alcohol in his manner growing more evident. “For example, now that he’s awake, when does he plan to retrieve this crown I spent fourteen damn months of my life searching for?”
Rory well remembered only days ago when the situation had been reversed and she had been out of control with her alcohol intake. Watching Bud take another drink, she struggled to lighten the mood before it turned ugly. “Bud, didn’t you tell me once that if I got drunk, then you’d pretend you didn’t know me?” she grinned when he looked at her. “Besides, I thought beer made you sick.”
He continued to look at her and took a deliberate drink. “I don’t suppose I could feel much worse than I do now,” he turned away as her cheeks mottled a fierce red once again. “What about that, Sir Kieran? When are you going back to get your crown?”
Kieran had already finished his second round of ham and fries, his gaze moving between Rory and Bud as notes of tension passed among them. But he was his usual composed self, moving to wipe his mouth with his sleeve when he remembered the napkin Rory had given him.
“I am going back immediately,” he said calmly.
“But why are you even going at all?” Bud wanted to know over the top of his glass. “I mean, you said you had a mission to complete. A peaceful mission that would bring a cessation to the seige of Acre. Well, I’ve got news for you, pal; Acre fell eight hundred years ago. There’s no more peace mission for you to complete. It’s over!”
Kieran’s jaw ticked slightly but he maintained his cool. “Mayhap the siege has indeed ended. But my task has not. I vowed to endow the crown to England as a symbol of lasting peace, and I shall do so. I must do so,” he tore his eyes away from Bud lest his anger gain strength and focused on Rory. “Since I would deduce that men do not use chargers or carriages as their primary mode of transportation these days, I suppose I should learn how to operate a car if I am to make it back to Nahariya. Although I could take the land route to Nahariya, ’twould be faster to go by boat. Are there still boats, Libby?”
Bud cut her off before she could answer. “And that’s another thing. What’s all this ‘Libby’ garbage? Her name is Rory.”
Kieran met Bud’s gaze again, cocking an eyebrow. “She is far too beautiful for such an unsuitable name. I have decided her name is Elizabeth.”
Bud snorted, uncharacteristically animated. “Christ, you’re an arrogant bastard. Just because you don’t like her name, you give her another? What happens when you decide you don’t like her hair color, or that she’s too thin? Are you going to change that, too?”
“I would change nothing on her person. She is perfect.”
Bud slammed his hands against the table, rattling the dishes. “You’re damn right she’s perfect. She’s the most perfect woman on the face of this earth and if she’s going to fall in love with you, then you’d better realize what a treasure you have,” he tried to stand up, the chair falling away, but he was too drunk and he almost ended up on his bottom. When Rory reached out to steady him, he shrugged her off cruelly. “I’m going to bed now, Dr. Osgrove. Have a pleasant evening with your… knight.”
Rory’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Please, Bud,” she whispered. “Let me take you back to the hotel.”
He moved away from her before she could grasp him. “Forget it. I can make it. Alone. Alone like I’ll be for the rest of my life.”
Rory stood up but Kieran held up a hand, preventing her from following him. Bud staggered through the door, across the street, and disappeared into the bed and breakfast. Rory stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, as Kieran gently pulled her to sit. It took her a moment to realize she was in his lap.
“He loves you a great deal, Libby,” he said softly. “Why did you not tell me this before?”
She sniffled, wiping her nose. “I don’t know… it’s our own private situation, I guess. Not something I go blurting about.”
He watched her as she struggled with her tears. She was so sensitive to the feelings of others, this beautiful woman with a hole in her very own heart. Mayhap that was why she was so concerned how another might feel; having been subjected to a callous mother, as callous as Kieran’s father had been, she understood well what is was to be rejected. Constantly striving for approval and affection wherever she could find it.
Aye, he understood well. Mayhap he understood best of all the fact that he had accepted the secret mission to procure Christ’s diadem was to somehow, someway, provide his own father with a chance to be proud. The man had fathered four sons, pitting one against the other for his affection and wealth like some demented game. Still, Kieran was competing. Going to retrieve a crown that was absolutely meaningless to the peace of England now. But eight hundred years ago, it meant a great deal.
It still meant a great deal. Rory wanted it to make her mother proud of her, and Kieran knew, deep down, that he had wanted it for the same reason. Altruistic intentions aside, the more profound meaning lingered.
Lost in thoughts of his crown, he shook himself of the involving implications and back to the world at hand. A world where Rory was weeping for Bud’s spurned feelings. Feelings Kieran himself had robbed the man of, intentional or not. Gazing into Rory’s sad face, he realized that he couldn’t pity Bud overly when he himself was so very, very content for nearly the first time in his life.
“You care for him, do you not?” he asked softly, feeling her warmth and softness against his thighs. “I can sense it.”
She nodded, sniffling. “Care for him, yes. But I don’t love him.”
Kieran sighed, pulling her close as the smoke and noise of the pub surrounded them. “To be denied a chance at true happiness is a cruel fate at best. ’Tis no wonder he resents my presence.”
Rory blew her nose on a napkin. “Not only does he resent you, but he doesn’t believe you either. That just makes it worse.”
Kieran glanced at the band as they launched into a particularly loud set, noting the open area in the middle of the room to be filled with writhing people jumping in beat to the music. “He is coming to believe me, though he refuses to recognize his own weakness,” he said softly. “You were easy to convince because you saw the transformation in a far more sensible manner. Bud refuses to acknowledge the truth because he lacks the insight to do so.”
“Bud is very insightful.”
“Not when it comes to you.”
The dance floor was alive with revelers. Rory pondered the dilemma of Bud still seated on Kieran’s lap as they both watched the activity that Kieran would later term as ‘seizures’. The fact that the majority of patrons seemed to be busy with the music, however, cleared up the pool table and the video games just beyond the entry. Having eaten his fill and no longer willing to linger on Dr. Dietrich’s personal problems, Kieran saw the miraculous lights of the arcade games and demanded to inspect them.
Rory reluctantly followed him through the crowd, explaining the video screen, the knobs, the electrical current that came in through the wires, and eventually the rules of the game as she could understand themr. Even if her mind and body remained with Kieran as he delved into Mortal Kombat, her mind was with Bud as he wallowed in pain she could only imagine. How she wished she could offer some words of comfort to ease his ache, but she knew there was nothing she could possibly say to the man short of setting a wedding date that would end his suffering.
There just wasn’t any hope for a future between them. Bud knew the situation for what it was and she hoped that someday he would meet another woman that would make him forget about the eccentric biblical archaeologist who broke his heart. She found herself praying that he would, for all their sakes.
They left the pub when Kieran accidentally broke a pool cue and nearly a punk-rocker with it when the man laughed at him. Returning to the bed and breakfast, Bud’s door was unlocked and Rory encouraged Kieran inside, insisting he take the other twin bed. Kieran tried to tell her that he feared for his safety sleeping in the same room with a jilted suitor, but she ignored his protests and bade him good-night.
Going to her own room, she locked the door and fell asleep in her underwear. When the dreams came, not surprisingly, they were of Kieran.
*
Rory wasn’t sure how long she had been shivering. It was freezing in the room and she snuggled under the fluffy comforter, trying to stay warm. But the chill didn’t dissolve and she opened her eyes sleepily, thinking about asking the landlady for an electric blanket when she realized her French doors were wide open. The chiffon curtains blowing in the soft night breeze, she could make out a figure in the silver moonlight.
Kieran stood against one of the doors, his gaze lingering on the garden beyond. He was without his shirt, his massive arms folded across his chest and Rory sat up, brushing the hair from her eyes.
“Kieran?” she asked softly. “What’s wrong?”
He turned to look at her, a faint smile on his lips. “I apologize, sweetheart. I did not mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” she pulled the blanket around her. “But it’s freezing. Close the door.”
He dutifully pushed himself off the doorjamb, closing the doors and using the marvelous lock. Rory watched him as he moved to the lamp beside the bed, turning on the soft white bulb. Noting her sleepy, inquisitive gaze, his smile broadened as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“It would seem that I am unable to sleep at all,” he said quietly. “I suppose eight hundred years of sleeping is enough. Moreover, I do not like the beds of this time. Far too soft. I feel as if I’m going to suffocate.”
She met his smile, sleepily. “Is that why you slept on the floor last night?”
He nodded faintly. “And because you were angry with me. I suspected that my presence beside you on the mattress would not have been well met.”
She sighed and lay back down, pulling the covers up around her shoulders; it was still very cold in the room. “And you were correct,” when he chucked softly, revealing his deliciously deep dimples, she rolled onto her side and tried to get comfortable. “So why are you here? I hope you don’t think I’m going to talk to you all night just to keep you entertained.”
He shrugged, his smile fading. “Nay, I do not expect you to keep me entertained. But I have been thinking heavily since we parted earlier and there are things we must discuss.”
“What things?”
“The diadem. Bud’s argument against the completion of my mission was solid, but I know in my heart that I must return. And he also set to me deliberating the fact that I have wasted two precious days lingering about London when I should have very well returned to Nahariya the moment I awoke.”
Rory scratched her head, trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her mind as she pursued his train of thought. “Kieran, I would hardly call what we’ve been doing ‘lingering’. We’ve been very busy avoiding jail.”
“I realize that,” he said softly. “But my attention has been diverted by this strange new world when I should be concentrating on my chosen task. Therefore, I have come to a great many conclusions this night; you said I could not go to Nahariya without your help and you were right. I do need you, Libby. I need your knowledge and wisdom to help me retrieve the diadem.”
She sat bolt up-right in bed, her sleep-heavy eyes instantly wide with surprise and delight. “Do you mean it?”
“I do.”
Her mouth opened with glee; forgetting the fact that she was clad only in her bra and panties, she threw her arms around his thick neck and giggle happily with pleasure. It was only when Kieran’s arms wrapped themselves tightly about her naked torso did she realize her state of dress, and by that time it was too late. He had her.
She pulled back, still enveloped in his arms and not feeling an ounce of the chill she had been experiencing earlier. And the look in his eyes only seemed to create more heat. “Uh… what changed your mind?”
He cocked an eyebrow and she could feel his big hands caressing her. With only a bra between their respective naked chests, Rory struggled to maintain her control as his gaze seemed to drill a scorching path deep into her soul.
“I am not sure,” he said faintly. “Somehow I’ve come to realize that God has led you to me. Or mayhap he had led me to you. In any event, it is obvious that we were meant to have this crown together. I need you because you can help me with the intricacies of this modern world, and you need me because I know where the crown is. One without the other will not succeed.”
He was terribly close, his hot breath on her face. Rory swallowed hard, wondering if she should try to disengage herself but not wanting to relinquish him for a moment. He was so masculine, so massive, so entirely wonderful and nothing on this earth had ever made her feel more like a complete woman.
She’d known from practically the moment of discovery that Sir Kieran Hage was something beyond her wildest dreams. And the more time she spent with him, the more she came to know the collected, intelligent man behind the marvelous journal and the incredible adventures, the more she knew she was hopelessly in love with him. Like no woman had loved a man before.
“You said once that you belonged to me,” she said, her voice tinged with an aching quiver. “I guess I belong to you, too.”
His grip tightened. “I cannot explain it, Libby. I have known you for two days yet I feel as if I’ve known you a lifetime. I feel as if God had a grander scheme in mind when he allowed me to be surprised by Simon’s assassins. Had I not been mortally wounded, I would have not found the alchemist. And had I not been subjected to the alchemists potions, I would have never found you. You would have never found me.”
Her limbs were beginning to quiver with a peculiar ache, her gaze raking his thoroughly marvelous face as he spoke his serious words. And he was right; the bond between them was difficult to explain and even more difficult to understand. More than words could express, it was a feeling like nothing else. A feeling that transcended time and space and the conventional boundaries of a normal relationship.
Without Kieran, Rory knew she would not be whole. He was a piece to the puzzle that completed her, solidified her, made her want for nothing. Not even the crown. As long as she had Kieran, her precious diadem ran a distant second. But because retrieving it would close a chapter in his terribly eventful life, she was willing to assist him however she could. No matter what it would take.
She was deliciously warm in his arms, a warmth that weakened her, filling her with wicked, giddy emotion. She didn’t care if she would be giving herself to a man she’d known a matter of two days; emotionally, she’d known him a lifetime and the desire to feel him on her, in her, invading her body and senses, was an overwhelming need. The hands embracing his massive shoulders suddenly found their way into his hair.
“So I found you,” she murmured seductively. “And I woke you from the dead. Little did I know when I petitioned for my Nahariya dig where it would lead me.”
He closed his eyes as her fingernails raked his scalp. “God’s Blood, Libby,” he muttered. “Yesterday… when I said I hadn’t had a woman in eight hundred years… I never meant that I was desperate for any woman at all. No other woman but you will do.”
She smiled, her hands moving to the face she had known so well in death as well as in life. “You say that now. But at the time, you really ticked me off with your conceit.”
His eyes opened, the gem-clear brown orbs coming in to focus. “What is this ticked?”
Good Lord, his lips were beautiful when they moved. Impulsively, Rory caught his lower lip between her teeth and suckled gently, drawing the flesh out as she released it. “It means you made me mad,” she whispered, groaning softly when he returned her gesture, suckling her lips with painful sweetness. “God, Kieran, you really drive me mad.”
He grinned, his entire mouth closing down over her lips, ravishing her with his power and desire. Throwing caution to the wind, Rory came alive in his arms, responding to his passion as if she had waited for this moment all her life. They fell back on the bed together, groping and suckling and caressing and somewhere in the process, Rory’s bra came off and she moaned loudly when his scalding palm closed over her bare breast.
Hot. Hot. Hot. She felt like a whore but she didn’t care. All that mattered was Kieran’s body against hers, his heat filling her, his delicious flesh taunting her lust. When his heated lips came to bear on a peaked nipple, she bit off her screams in the top of his hair. He suckled her faster, hotter, better than she had ever known, and when her panties were literally ripped from her body, she was unable to bite back the scream of pure ecstasy as his searching mouth invaded her private core.
The pants of her pleasure filled the room as Kieran manipulated her with reckless abandon. Sprawled out on the bed, her legs over his shoulders, Rory thought quite possibly she might die from his expert attention. Just as she felt herself building to an immediate release, he suddenly pushed himself off her and removed his Levis in a flash. Rory watched, dazed and panting, as his massive body covered her once more. Tasting herself on his lips, she plundered his mouth with her eager tongue.
But it didn’t end there. She was determined to taste him everywhere, to pleasure him as he had pleasured her, and in little time she was moving down his chest, sampling his scars and biting his nipples. Kieran growled like a bear as her hot hands found his throbbing manhood, her delectable mouth plunging down on him again and again until he thought he might go mad with the rapture of it. Knowing he would not last long against her wicked skills, he pulled her up by the hair and flipped her over on her back.
He settled between her legs, bracing himself as she instinctively guided his manhood against her thresh hold. Lips fused with unquenchable hunger, he pushed into her slick body in one smooth thrust, burying himself as she groaned into his mouth. Coiling his tight buttocks, he drove into her again and again, pounding her with the proof of his desire. Rory grunted with every thrust, gasped with every withdrawal, tightening her sugared walls around him as if to never let him go. In a flash, she was on top of him, riding him and feeling an entirely new sensation with his member deep inside her. After a few powerful thrusts, he hit the magic spot deep in her body and everything suddenly exploded.
Rory’s climax came so hard and delicious that she thought she had blacked out for a brief moment. She fell forward, her labored breathing filling the room. Kieran’s arms went about her and she was under him again, feeling him driving into her love-drenched body until he groaned her name and she could feel his manhood throbbing deep inside her. The movement, the gasping, slowly faded until all she could feel, hear, or think was the rhythmic pounding of Kieran’s everlasting heart.
Rory didn’t know how long she lay there, sandwiched between Kieran’s massive body and the soft mattress. He was holding her tightly, protectively, and she relished his embrace with all of the satisfaction of her soul. As she always knew it would be, the physical union with him had been beyond her most vivid dreams. More than that, she knew that she would never be the same again.
“God, Kieran,” she murmured into his neck. “You’re not too bad for an old guy.”
He laughed softly, shifting his enormous weight and curling her into a comfortable position against his chest. “And you… you have done this before.”
Rory’s eyes opened, pondering the deeper issues of his statement. Women of his time were maidens until married, and if they went to the marriage bed without their virginity intact, then they were usually considered a lower life form. Kieran had remained remarkably open-minded about this new world he suddenly found himself thrust into; she hoped that his sensibility would pertain to her as well.
“Things are a little different these days,” she said softly, her warm hand stroking his muscled shoulder. “Sex isn’t like it was in your time. It’s given more… freely.”
“Freely?”
She didn’t like the sound of that word either. “What I mean to say is that people don’t consider it a forbidden happening. When a man and woman meet and there is an attraction, sex between them is considered quite common to demonstrate those feelings. And the feelings don’t necessarily have to do with love.”
He drew in a deep breath, pondering her words. “Love is not an issue when it comes to marriage. In my time, a man and woman physically join only in matrimony. ’Tis considered disgraceful for a woman to go to her husband deflowered.”
She lifted her head, looking him in the eye. “You and I aren’t married, yet you were perfectly willing to ‘deflower’ me. Using your logic, I would then go to my husband in disgrace.”
“Untrue.”
“And why not?”
“Because I will be your husband.”
All of Rory’s mental facilities seemed to leave her at that moment. She could only stare at him, her eyes wide with astonishment. “What?”
He put a massive arm leisurely behind his head, his expression entirely calm. “I said that you would not have gone to your husband in disgrace because I will be your husband,” a brown eyebrow lifted slowly. “But I would know who has taken this virginity that belonged to me. The man must be properly dealt with.”
Her mouth was still open with surprise. Abruptly, she sat up, clutching the sheet to her breast. When he reached up and seductively dislodged it, she was incapable of making a move to reclaim it.
“Kieran,” she breathed. “Are you serious?”
He was greedily drinking in his fill of her beautiful breasts. “On all accounts, lady.”
Through her haze of astonishment, she noticed that he was lustily distracted and she hastened to reclaim the sheet. “Look at me,” when he did, she lifted her eyebrows to emphasize her point. “Are you serious about marrying me?”
His eyebrows lifted in the same gesture. “I told you I was. Why is this so surprising? You love me, and I am madly passionate about you as well. God has brought us together and we shall not question his wisdom.”
She stared at him. “Do you love me?”
“I told you I was…”
“You said madly passionate. Do you love me, Kieran?”
His gaze turned uncharacteristically warm. A huge hand came up, gently tucking stray tendrils of hair behind her ear. “What is not to love about you, Lady Rory? Although I have never been in love before, I suspect these feelings I am experiencing for you can be nothing else. God has given you to me, and surely, I will never let you go.”
She seemed to soften, her shock fading. “But you just said… you said that love had nothing to do with marriage. And now you tell me you love me, therefore, you will be my husband?”
He shrugged faintly. “I said that love was not an issue when it came to matrimony. And it is not. But it is the most powerful force on this earth and I find that in my circumstance, it links me to you as much as God and the diadem and ancient potions ever could. Truly, I cannot explain that which I feel. But I only know that you must be my wife, and I will feel for you as I do now until I die.”
Rory simply stared at him, the joy of his words filling her with an oddly fluid warmth. Speechless with the power of his declaration, she attempted to lay back down beside him but he stopped her.
“And now that you know of my feelings, you will listen to me well when I repeat my demand,” he held her face between his two palms, swallowing up her entire head. “You will tell me this man who has touched you before me. Where may I find him?”
She smiled faintly, trying to kiss his hands playfully to soften his stern stance. When that failed, she sighed. “I don’t know where he is. We dated in college for four years, Kieran. I thought we were going to get married when he found someone else he liked better.”
“Impossible. There is no one better than you. No only will I kill him for taking what belongs to me, but I will kill him for shaming you.”
She laughed softly, dislodging his hands and snuggling up beside him. “Don’t worry about him. He’s ancient history. Oh; gee, sorry. I didn’t mean to cast the two of you in the same category.”
He pulled her close, stroking her back and listening to her groan softly with pleasure. In fact, she sounded very much like a purring kitten. “No offense taken. But you will tell me this man’s name.”
“No.”
“Tell me or I’ll force it from you.”
“You will? And how do you plan to do that?”
His stroking hands grew bolder. “Do you truly wish to know?”
She gasped as his scorching mouth bit into her delicate shoulder. “I do. Oh, God, I do.”
Kieran never got his name. But in faith, he hardly cared.
*
The second floor corridor of the bed and breakfast was dark, a single light bulb providing the only measurable light. The guests had long since gone to sleep, the only sounds filling the night those of distant crickets or an occasional car. Or, if you happened to be standing in the corridor, the pants of pleasure coming from room 2B.
A figure was hunched against the wall near the doorway leading to a world of ecstasy, the head bowed and the feet bare. The sounds of faint screams had awoken him from a dead sleep, the gasps of delight drawing him out into the corridor. The sounds had faded for a while, but now they were back with a vengeance.
Joints popped as the figure moved, turning away from the door that was alive once again with the audible cries of bliss. As Bud made his way back to his cold, dark room, he found himself wishing he had never found that corpse in the desert. With every cry, every moan, a stake was being driven deeper and deeper into his heart until he could hardly stand the pain. Pain that was his own damn fault.
He shouldn’t have been so foolish. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with her. He should have known that she wasn’t particularly attracted to him no matter how hard he tried to sway her opinion. Back in his own bed, Bud stared at the ceiling, listening to the bed in the next room bump the wall with precise rhythm. Knowing that with every thump, his anguish grew. Knowing that now, there would never be a Dr. Rory Dietrich.
Rolling onto his side, he picked up the phone.