Teresa Medeiros (27 page)

She followed an enthusiastic round of cheers and applause with a mocking “Torn Between Two Lovers,” then belted out a rafter-shaking chorus of “Who’s Sorry Now?” When she dared to glance over at Colin, his hands were clenched around the goblet as if he longed to clamp them over his ears or her mouth. From his murderous expression, she suspected the latter.

She might have stopped there if Lyssandra hadn’t chosen that moment to brush his taut jaw with a tender kiss. Tabitha felt a stab of pain beyond jealousy. So she leaned back on the stool as if it were the top of a piano in a smoke-filled bar and began to softly sing Nina Simone’s stirring blues classic “The Other Woman.” The minstrels lowered their lutes, reluctant to disturb the sultry intimacy of the melody.

Yearning robbed Tabitha’s voice of its sarcasm. She could only gaze at Colin as if he were the only man in the hall, her heart laid bare by the simple lyrics. Taking another sip of ale, he met her gaze squarely. The MacDuff’s shrewd eyes missed little, but the sentimental Lyssandra was occupied with dabbing crystalline teardrops from her cheeks. Snorting in disgust, Arjon tossed a kerchief at her. She blew her dainty nose on it and handed it back to him, ignoring his grimace.

As the last note warbled from Tabitha’s throat, Colin stood. She hoped in that moment that he would come to her. That he would march across that dais, draw her into his arms, and proudly proclaim that she was the only woman he adored.

Snatching up a full flagon of ale, he shoved back his chair and pushed his way through the crowd, passing through the outer door without once looking back.

• • •

Tabitha tossed and turned on the feather mattress, feeling as if she were drowning in its smothering softness, unable to find a comfortable position. Finally she sat up and hugged her knees.

Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass window, painting the tiled floor an ethereal shade of rose. Too restless to sit and brood, Tabitha clambered down from the tall four-poster and padded across the room, the sleeveless slip she wore brushing the floor. Lyssandra had been shocked when she’d asked to sleep in the garment, informing her primly that it was customary to slumber in the nude.

The chamber Colin’s fiancée had provided for her was every little girl’s fantasy. As she unlatched the window and gazed into the deserted night, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see Rapunzel Barbie and Prince Charming Ken come cruising up the drawbridge in their pink convertible.

Every little girl’s fantasy had turned into her nightmare. She yearned to escape the colorful tapestries that draped the walls and the murals painted on the ceiling. They only mocked her with their images of fair ladies, bold knights, and golden-horned unicorns resting their heads shyly in the laps of virginal princesses.

The cool night breeze ruffled her tousled bangs. She was no longer a virgin and she’d never been a princess. She had simply been deluding herself. She was Tabitha Lennox—girl genius, M.I.T. graduate, and department head of the Lennox Enterprises Virtual Reality Division. She didn’t belong in this enchanted kingdom any more than she’d ever belonged anywhere but her tidy penthouse. She should be there now, sipping espresso, listening to jazz, and watching rain course down the smog-tinted windows.

She lifted her amulet to the moonlight, marveling at its unearthly beauty. There was nothing left for her to do but bow out gracefully and leave Colin and Lyssandra to their own happy ending. She could only hope her parents would forgive her once she returned to her own time. She had left their fates hanging in the balance while she chased a dream. A dream that had turned out to be as ridiculous as it was elusive.

She wondered if Colin would feel regret or relief when he discovered she was gone. At least he’d be spared the unpleasant task of sharpening his feathered quill and writing her a Dear Jane letter. Maybe someday he would even be able to look back upon the night they’d shared as a magical interlude, unspoiled by bitterness or remorse.

She clutched the amulet and closed her eyes. Her lips moved, but a wish would not come. She was as mute as she’d been all those years before when she’d suppressed her every dream and desire.

Trembling with frustration, she opened her eyes. Maybe her wish was not sincere enough. Or maybe she was just left-brained enough to demand a sense of closure. Maybe the right words would continue to elude her until she could coolly shake Colin’s hand and thank him for looking after her during her brief visit to his century.

Tomorrow, she decided firmly. Tomorrow she would bid Sir Colin of Ravenshaw a dignified farewell and begin methodically searching for the wish that would carry her home.

Home
.

As Tabitha climbed back into the big, empty bed, she wondered why the word tasted so dry in her mouth.

• • •

She was having the most magical dream.

Even a twinge of wistful sadness wasn’t enough to spoil its dark enchantment. Colin was on top of her again. His breath fanned her throat, intoxicating her with the musky sweet aroma of hops. His warm, moist lips devoured the curve of her cheek before finding their way to her mouth where he drank thoroughly and deeply of her kiss. She moaned, exulting in his unabashed masculinity. He was rough where she was smooth, hard where she was soft, salty where she was sweet.

She stroked his muscular forearms, beguiled by his urgency. Even as he tenderly ravished her mouth with his tongue, he was easing up her nightgown, filling his callused palms with her breasts and gently squeezing. It was as if the touch of her skin was something he craved to feed some shameless hunger he would never be able to satisfy.

She barely had time to savor that new delight before he reached between her legs and cupped her there. His questing fingers created an exquisite friction that coaxed a hot surge of nectar from her throbbing core.

A sweet dream indeed.

If only …

Tabitha turned her head to the side of the feather pillow, the refrain a wordless sigh. If only this weren’t a dream. If only Colin were really in her arms. If only she had one more night to prove to him that no woman, in this century or any other, could ever love him like she could.

If only she wouldn’t wake up before this delectable fantasy came to fruition.

Freed from the inhibitions of consciousness, her knees fell apart without shyness or shame. If Colin were really in her bed, she would draw him down and nibble that
sulky lower lip of his as she guided him gently into the very heart of her. But her arms remained empty, the ache deep within her unfulfilled.

“Damn it to bloody hell!”

It was that muffled blasphemy uttered in a thick Scottish burr that broke the spell.

Tabitha’s eyes flew open to find Colin crouched at the bottom of the bed in a puddle of moonlight, fumbling with the ties of his hose.

He slowly lifted his head to meet her shocked gaze, then flashed her a lopsided grin and touched a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh. Mustn’t wake my sweet lady before I’ve had my way with her.”

If only …

All of her tender resolutions forgotten, Tabitha planted her foot in the middle of his chest and shoved, sending him sailing off the bed.

CHAPTER
22

T
abitha jerked down her nightgown and sat up, growing slowly aware of the ominous silence. Not a sound came from the floor at the foot of the bed—not a grunt or a groan or even a drunken snore.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “What if he hit his head on the hearth? What if I’ve killed him?”

Terrified she was going to find Colin sprawled in a pool of his own blood, she scrambled to the foot of the bed. Just as she was peeping over the footboard, Colin sat up, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek of fright.

Gingerly rubbing the back of his head, he shot her a rueful glance. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve that.”

He looked so boyishly sheepish that it was all Tabitha could do not to bound off the bed, cradle his head against her breasts, and croon, “Och, Colin, me puir wee laddie!” just as Nana had done after she’d clobbered him in the chapel at Castle Raven.

Instead, she summoned all of her indignation and climbed down out of the bed to stand over him, hands on hips. “You’re drunk!”

“Aye.” He flashed her another of those roguish grins. “Drunk with desire for you, my lady.”

She refused to be charmed. “I’ve heard better pickup lines at the water cooler at work. Just how did you get in here? Did you scale the wall and crawl through the window? Sneak through a secret passageway?”

He pointed. “The door.”

“Oh.” Tabitha was vaguely disappointed by the lack of drama. “Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Creeping into a woman’s bed in the dead of night to seduce her with your fiancée only a few doors away. And after all your pious talk about honor and chivalry! Why, you’re nothing but a knight in shining tin!”

Colin blinked up at her, but she couldn’t tell if he was dazed from drink or his tumble off the bed. His voice softened to an awed whisper. “You look more like an angel than a witch with the light of heaven shining through your gown that way.”

Tabitha hadn’t realized she was standing in front of the window. She glanced down to discover the moonlight had rendered the slip virtually sheer. She reached for the blanket, then paused and straightened, meeting Colin’s gaze boldly.

His simmering eyes lingered on the curves outlined beneath the clinging fabric, even as his mouth took on a wry twist. “An avenging angel, it seems. I’ve kept myself pure for so long that I forgot how merciless such creatures could be to a fallen sinner.”

She folded her arms over her chest, blocking part of his view. “The same way you forgot to tell me you were engaged?”

He managed to look even more wounded than he had when she’d kicked him out of her bed. “I did so tell you. I told you I’d been betrothed since I was a boy.”

Tabitha was startled to realize he’d told her exactly
that. In the forest after they’d escaped Brisbane’s clutches. She frowned. “But you implied that you broke off your engagement so you could marry Regan.”

“ ’Twas my intention. But as you know, Regan never learned of my plan. And after she was dead, it mattered naught to me who I wed.” The moonlight unearthed a glint of sobriety in his eyes. “Truth be told, I never thought I would return from the Holy Land.”

“No doubt you were hoping to martyr yourself.” She sniffed. “A pity you failed.”

Gripping one of the bedposts, he dragged himself to his feet, making a visible effort not to stagger. Tabitha had to curl her hands into fists to keep from touching him.

He was wise enough not to touch her. “When I left here, Lyssa was naught but a child in ribbons and braids.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, she’s all grown up now.”

He chuckled, the throaty rumble reflecting more despair than amusement. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

“Do you love her?” Tabitha blurted out the question without considering the consequences.

She swung away from him and closed her eyes, as if the absence of light would somehow blot out the echo of his answer. This was the moment, she knew, the moment when she should wish him happiness with his new bride and say good-bye. But her throat ached so hard she couldn’t speak at all.

“I love her as if she were my little sister. In truth, I’ve never been able to imagine taking her to my bed.”

Tabitha’s knees folded, but Colin was there to catch her. There to slip his arms around her waist and draw her against the muscled warmth of his body. There to
nuzzle his lips against her nape, making her shiver with desire, and gently steer her toward the bed.

But before she could go, she had one more question for him. A question that had been nagging at her since she’d first learned of Lyssandra’s existence. “Did your people at Castle Raven know you were engaged to the MacDuff’s daughter?”

“Aye,” he whispered against her jasmine-scented skin, his heated breath making her tingle all over. “ ’Twas never a secret.”

“Then why did they treat me with such respect? If Lyssandra was going to be your wife, then who did they think I was?”

He pressed his hips against her rump, proving that drink had not hampered his desire for her. “My paramour, of course.”

Wrenching herself from his grasp, Tabitha whirled around to face him.

He took a step toward her. “Why are you looking at me like that, lass? ’Tis well within a man’s rights to have both.”

She narrowed her eyes, wanting to make sure she understood him. “A wife
and
a paramour?”

“Aye.” He reached for her, but she took another step backward, rounding the corner of the bed.

“And what about your wife’s rights? What would she gain from such an arrangement?”

“She would have my name. My protection. My fond regard.”

“Your children?” she prodded.

He nodded, but seemed to be having difficulty meeting her eyes again. “ ’Twould be my duty to provide her with a son.”

“And if you accidentally provided her with a daughter? I guess you’d just have to keep trying, eh?” Colin
reached for her again, but she danced just out of his grasp, “What about love, Colin? Is that the one right you’d deny your wife?”