Spell of the Highlander

Page 26

She would heel nicely. Women did. It wasn’t their fault nature had designed them to be so malleable. They were softer all around. He would command her to lead him to a safe place where they could go to ground. And once there—och, once there, he had centuries of unsated lust for things other than vengeance, and this woman with her ripe curves and creamy skin and tangle of short glossy hair was the answer to all of them!
What better way to spend the final twenty days of his indenture than feeding his every sexual hunger, indulging his deepest desires and most carnal fantasies with this sensual delicacy of a woman?
At that moment, the sensual delicacy of a woman notched her chin up.
Stubbornly.
There might even have been a glint of fire in her eyes.
“I’m not letting you out until you answer a few questions,” she informed him coolly.
He snorted with impatience. Of all the moments for her to get contrary! Women certainly knew how to pick them. “Wench, we have no time for this. Lucan has no doubt already dispatched another assassin who is drawing ever nearer as we speak.”
“‘Lucan’?” she pounced. “Is that who wants the mirror back?”
“Aye.”
“‘Lucan’ who?”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Crossed his arms. “Why? You think you might know him?” he snapped sardonically, one dark brow arching. When her nostrils flared and her chin tipped higher, he sighed and said, “Trevayne. His name is Lucan Trevayne.”
“Who and what are you?”
“You called my name when you released me the first time,” he said impatiently. “‘Tis Cian MacKeltar. As for the what of me, I’m but a man.”
“The blond man said you were a murderer.” Her voice was poison-apple sweet. “Remember him? The one you murdered.”
“Och,” he said indignantly, “and there’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“He said you were locked away for the safety of the world.”
“Hardly. Your world, Jessica, would be far safer with me in it.”
“So why are you in a mirror?” She brightened, as if at a sudden cheerful thought. “Are you, like, a genie? Can you grant wishes?”
“If you mean a djinn, even the feeblest of bampots know they doona exist. Nay, I doona grant wishes.”
“Yeah, well, everyone also knows men in mirrors don’t exist. So how did you come to be in one?”
“I was tricked. How else would a man end up in a mirror?”
“How were you tricked?”
“‘Tis a long story.” When she opened her mouth to press, he said flatly, “And not one of which I care to speak. Leave be.”
Her eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “That blond man also said the mirror was an Unseelie piece. I looked up ‘Unseelie’ on the ’Net. It’s not a classification of artifact. It’s a classification of fairy”—she sneered the word. “What, I ask you, am I supposed to make of that?”
“That ’tis an exceedingly rare artifact?” he suggested lightly. “Woman, we’ve no time to discuss such matters now. I’ll answer all your questions once you’ve freed me and we’re on the move.”
The lie spilled easily from his tongue. He would silence her concerns with a simple command laced with Voice the moment she let him out. He planned to immediately toss a few other commands her way, as well. He was a man who’d been without a woman far too long, and his hunger was immense. Contemplating the erotic orders he would give her stiffened his cock and drew his testicles tight. Bring that sweet ass over here, Jessica. Open that lovely mouth of yours and lick this. Turn around, woman, and let me fill my hands with those splendid breasts while I bend you over the—
“Why would someone want to trick you into a mirror?”
Jarred from the lustful stupor of his thoughts, he stepped back, drawing silver around his lower body to conceal the rising of his kilt. He doubted such blatant proof of his intentions would serve as persuasion to free him. Bloody hell, he should have used Voice to get himself some modern clothing when he’d dispatched Roman the other eve! Those tight blue jeans both men and women favored would likely hold down a shaft of even his size. “Because by binding me to it, the one who tricked me gained immortality. Each Unseelie relic offers a Dark Power of some sort. Living forever, never aging, never changing, is the Dark Glass’s gift,” he growled. By Danu, what was it going to take to get her to let him out of the blethering glass?
“Oh.” She stared at him blankly for a moment. “So let me get this straight: You’re telling me that not only are there people inside mirrors, and fairies somewhere busily crafting artifacts endowed with paranormal attributes, but there are also immortals skulking around my world?”