My Prize (24 page)

"Of course," she said, leaning back with her coffee mug and sighing contentedly. "I'm not sure if any of this is real, or if I'm dreaming it, but what the heck. I'm ready for anything now. I'm clean, fed, I have this...whatever you call it..." She took another sip. "Which is really excellent, by the way...so bring on your Guardian."

She looked down. "Um, I probably should wear more than a towel, though?"

He rose from the table. "Never fear, love. All taken care of." He pulled her to her feet and over to the bed. "Do you like it?"

Lying in splendor on top of the covers was a robe, similar to Rory's, only in the softest shade of blue. Deep blue flowers were embroidered around the slit neckline and the hem, and glints of silver were threaded through the stitching. It was beautiful.

She turned grateful eyes toward him.

"Try it on lass," he said, forestalling her words. "I canna wait to see it on you."

She obligingly slipped the towel off and allowed him to lower the robe over her head, noting how his hands managed to stroke her naked flesh most pleasantly as he released the silk.

"Ah, Rory," she sighed, swaying toward him.

"Boralle," he murmured, closing the gap between them.

"Good morning," said a third voice.

The couple jumped apart.

For some obscure reason, Rory found himself blushing as a pair of cool turquoise eyes surveyed them. This man carried an air of leadership about him the way women wore perfume. It was almost unconscious, a part of him, but was very definitely present and made itself felt in those around him.

"Welcome to Anyela, Boralle North. Shall we sit?"

"You...you're the Guardian." Boralle's eyes were wide with disbelief. "We spoke...in my dream?"

"Useful things, dreams," said the Guardian enigmatically.

Rory rolled his eyes. "Aye. Very convenient too."

The Guardian grinned. "Come you two. Sit. We have things to discuss."

He led the way out into the garden and took a seat in the shade of a large flowering bush.

Rory and Boralle followed, seating themselves on the low chairs nearby.

"You have fulfilled your mission, Laird McAllen," began the Guardian approvingly. "We are
very
pleased."

Rory's chest swelled with pride. Words of praise from the Guardian were most welcome.

"And you, Boralle, you have behaved with a great degree of courage and no small amount of honor. Would you agree, Rory?"

"Oh aye," he answered, looking lovingly at her.

She cleared her throat and blushed uncomfortably. "Um, thanks."

"Of course, the question before us now, is what happens next? Do we send you back to your life as a lawyer, Boralle? And clear your mind of any memories of this experience? It used to be our routine to do so, and also to erase all recollections of you from Rory's mind. Thus freeing him for his next assignment."

Rory's blood rose. "Ye canna do that, man." He half stood, fists clenching, until Boralle's hand pulled him back down. "This woman...she's...she's...ma life. Ma heart. Take away her memories and I mebbe won't remember her, but I'll know there's a hole in me. In ma soul...I'll no be the man I am without her."

Rory knew his words were slipping into a brogue that he thought he'd left behind. But his heart was pounding, his mind was screaming, and he was forgetting his diction.

He was
not
forgetting Boralle. Ever!

The Guardian ignored his outburst. "Boralle, would you like to go back to your time? To your life? We would eliminate all your memories of Rory, so that you could go on as the now-notorious Major North, who single-handedly changed the course of history? It would be a powerful and very different life for you there." He paused, staring into her eyes. "You would be showered with just about everything the Fralliens have to offer. Then, I should imagine, you could name your own fees for things like speaking engagements. Not to mention book deals. You could live the rest of your life in luxury and want for nothing."

He paused, letting the impact of his words sink in.

Boralle raised her head. "You don't know me very well, Guardian, if you think that I'd ever say yes to such a thing. If I
have
to leave Rory because of some horrible time-warp deal, then I suppose I'll have no choice. But he'll always have my heart. I won't go willingly. Not for all the riches in the galaxy. There's nothing that could make me leave him. He is my man."

It was a simple statement, but one that touched Rory all the way to his soul. He reached out his hand and grasped hers, unable to speak for the emotions that clogged his throat.

The Guardian thought for a moment. "Well, in that case, I have good news and I have bad news."

Their grip on each other tightened.

"The good news, Guardian?" asked Boralle hopefully.

"Well, the good news is that recently things changed around here. We don't wipe our genie's memories any more, unless they request it. And we no longer insist on years of service to the Guardians of Time. You are free to choose, Rory McAllen. If you'd like to continue these assignments, traveling through time to wherever your skills are needed, we'd be happy to encourage you to do so."

Rory bit down on his response and tried for some control. It was not easy, and he wondered if his robe was starting to melt around the edges. "And the bad news?"

The Guardian looked at them both somberly.

"Well, the bad news is...if you two decide you really want to stay together, then you will have to give up your association with Anyela. You will become as mortal as Boralle here, and have no memories of this world at all. It will be like a fresh start."

Rory snorted. "No offense, Guardian, but that's the
bad
news?"

The Guardian raised his chin. "
We
consider it so, Laird McAllen."

Rory detected a wee twinkle in those enigmatic eyes. "And so what would a Scots warrior find to do with a Galactic lawyer?"

"Oh lots, I should imagine," giggled Boralle. She blushed as she realized she'd said it out loud.

The Guardian covered his smile behind a hand. Sighing, he stood and paced the lawn slowly, stroking his chin and thinking.

Rory held Boralle's hand tight. He was
not
going to let this lass out of his sight for the rest of his lifetime if he could help it.

"There are several options." The Guardian came to a standstill in front of them and watched them both.

"We can send you off to some little known planet and let you make your own way. You'll be able to start a brand new life together."

Boralle raised an eyebrow at Rory.

"Or, on the other hand, we could send you back to your time, Rory. The both of you, that is. Your battles would end more successfully this time, and you and Boralle could settle down as the Laird and his Lady in old Scotland."

Rory raised an eyebrow at Boralle.

"Or, lastly, I suppose you
could
both remain here. It's a bit against the rules, of course. Even though you wouldn't be an active member of the genie program, you could probably find something to keep yourselves busy?"

The Guardian grinned at them. "I have a meeting shortly, so why don't you two take some time to discuss your options and let me know later on this afternoon."

As abruptly as he'd arrived, the Guardian left.

*~*~*~*

Rory's hand slid down over Boralle's breast and found her nipple. It was relaxing after her loud and exhausting orgasm, the remains of which were shivering throughout her body.

His cock was softening now, leaving behind a cunny full of his milky seed. No blue fog allowed in Anyela. Boralle was thrilled to find out that everything worked just fine now.

The Guardian had been gone precisely thirty seconds before she had thrown herself into Rory's arms and smothered him with kisses.

They'd retreated into the bedroom and been naked and joined within a minute and a half after that.

As his cock thrust into her body, Boralle watched his eyes, wondering if she could ever tell him how much she loved him.

"I'd give my life for you, Rory McAllen," she whispered as he claimed her.

"Spend your life
with
me, Boralle North." He drove his cock so deep she felt it pressing against her womb. "Give me bairns, be ma woman. Be ma wife?"

"Yesssss..." She felt her buttocks tighten as his cock found that perfect spot inside her and brushed it every time he withdrew and thrust back again.

"I dinna need zero-g to find that spot, do I lass?" he asked wickedly. His hair tumbled around his precious face.

Her heart turned over. "You don't need a single thing, my love. You have everything I'll ever need."

They'd spoken no more, letting their bodies touch and love and sweat their way to their shared climax.

Somehow, it was a bittersweet coupling. The end of a massive adventure and the beginning of a new one.

"So lass," said Rory, finally recovering his voice. "What's it to be? Scotland or some new world?"

She nibbled on his lower lip. "Any world is paradise if you're there, my love. You make the choice. I'll be happy as long as I'm at your side."

"Oh no. We do this together." Rory was a very wise man in the ways of women.

"Well, in that case..." She sat up and began to list off the pros and cons on her fingers. "You are familiar with Scotland. That's a pro. But I'm not. That's a con."

He laughed. "Ye had no intention of letting me choose by myself, did you, lass?"

"Nope. Like you said. We do this together."

"We do
this
too..." Lips crept down to her nipple.

"Rory. I'm trying to be logical here..." She giggled as he suckled gently on her sensitive breast.

"Go ahead wee one. I'm listening..."

"Yeah. Right. Very well." She resolutely tried to ignore his tongue. "As far as a planet goes, we have no idea where we'll end up. That's a...oh rass, Rory...do that again...um—that's a con. But we'll both be finding our way together, which is a pro. Ohhhh..."

Boralle's attempts at logic failed dismally, and she slithered down beneath Rory's talented tongue.

He pulled the covers away from them, baring her naked body to the sunlight streaming in. He stroked her flesh, gently teasing her swollen clit, still sensitive from their earlier lovemaking.

"Rory, I'm all sticky. Remember, no blue fog here..." She protested as his fingers slid around her mound.

"I know, lass. Believe me, I know..." He quickly flipped her over onto her stomach, smothering her laugh.

"Being all sticky is a good thing," he muttered. He spread their juices around her cunt and up between her perfect cheeks. Gently he massaged her little ring of anal muscles, wringing a moan from her.

He reached for a pillow and slipped it under her hips.

Boralle felt deliciously decadent as her backside thrust up toward Rory's touch.

Then she felt a cool sensation and smelled the fragrance of blue lotus oil as Rory massaged her skin with firm hands.

She sighed and stretched, relaxing under his touch. He slipped his oily hands between her cheeks and down to her cunt, slipping back up again and retracing his steps, arousing her yet again to quivering levels of need.

"Oh rass,
Rory
..." She breathed shakily as each pass of his hands cranked up her body's responses, and each touch of his fingers between her buttocks sent shivers of pleasure through her cunt.

"Yes, love, rass indeed," he said softly. A finger slipped past her rosy ring and into her darkness.

She moaned.

"Relax, lass," encouraged Rory.

She did. Her muscles softened and eased, and welcomed his touch. And when she felt his cock pressing against her, she let both her mind and her body open to let him inside. He was almost hard enough to hurt, but not quite. He was certainly hard enough to stimulate every single nerve in her body, and probably a few on anyone else within a mile or so of their bed.

Carefully and slowly he slipped into her, touching her where she'd never been touched before.

"Ah, Boralle," he moaned, stroking her buttocks. "So fine, lass, so fine."

She felt his hand beneath her, sliding to her clit and touching it so gently, arousing it with light and loving brushes of his fingertips.

Combined with the hardness of him in her ass, this delicate assault on her clit was taking her to new levels of arousal. She wondered if oxygen was available. Her lungs were beginning to get distracted.

He moved carefully within her, very slightly, just enough to send her nerve endings skyrocketing.

She clamped her muscles on him, and heard him groan.

He increased the pressure on her clit, stirring the sensual pot and bringing it—her—to the boiling point once again.

She writhed and pushed backwards, wanting every inch of him now buried within her. She was open to him in every way possible for a woman, and loving him in every way she could ever imagine.

And he was loving her back.

In that moment, that long hanging microsecond between touch and orgasm, Boralle knew that he was truly her life. There could be no other. Ever.

She cried out and let the spasms take her.

Within her, Rory's cock responded to her clenching passage with an explosion of his own, filling her once again with his seed. She doubted that she could ever get enough of it, or of him.

Eventually, however, they eased apart, exhausted, sticky, sated, and both incredibly satisfied.

She broke the silence first. "I don't care where we go. As long as I'm with you."

"You always will be, lass. I promise you that."

"So here's my suggestion. How about we negotiate a deal with the Guardian?"

Rory snickered. "My future wife, the lawyer
. Negotiate
a deal? With the Guardian?"

Boralle wriggled herself into a comfortable spot, trying to avoid the wet patches of bedding. There was a lot to be said in favor of blue fog, all things considered.

"Yes, a deal. We get a nice vacation in your Scotland, and you show me all the wonderful places you've talked about. For real this time.
And
I get that bath in the loch you promised me."