The Royal Hunter

by Donna Kauffman

  No, no, no. She shut that mental track down immediately. Just how in the hell was she supposed to deal with the man now? The magnitude of what she’d done by intruding into his feelings, the potential future complications, started to settle in. Would she feel things every time she looked at him? Or only when she tried? And how could she do one and not the other? She hadn’t even been trying the first time, not really.

  Baleweg. Her step faltered as she wondered what he’d make of this new breakthrough. If she could call it that. As they walked on, she was finally able to move past the hot-wired sexual element she’d initially tapped into and began to realize there had been something more there. It wasn’t merely the sexual current that had reached out to her, into her. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that while that had been the initial jolt—and one hell of a jolt it had been—what had sent her stumbling away was that instant, that fraction of a second, when she’d reached beyond that surface level.

  A shiver of dark, of cold, raced over her. Followed by a quick sensation of … of hollowness. Of … separateness. This she identified with as closely as anyone could. She’d felt it so many times in her life.

  She risked another glance at him. Had it been more than their explosive sexual awareness and her intensified awareness, having just come from exhaustive attempts with Baleweg? Was it something else? Was there something inside him that called to her? What had she been about to touch? To feel? To discover?

  She pushed a wayward strand off her forehead, surreptitiously rubbing at her temple. What had she done by allowing them to stay? By allowing Baleweg to fool with her mind? By allowing Archer to fool with … well, everything else? It was all too much.

  “You know, this isn’t a death march,” he said, amused.

  She slowed, tried not to stiffen. Just hearing his voice right now was too much. “You said you wouldn’t talk.”

  He sighed, stopping. “Yeah, I know, I just—would you just wait a minute?”

  She kept walking. If she were smart, she’d make an about-face and keep walking until she was back in the house, in her room, possibly under her bed or locked in her closet. She needed to search her thoughts, analyze them, categorize them, till she made some sense of what she’d allowed to happen to her … and what she was going to do about it now.

  But turning around meant moving past him, possibly looking at him and—heaven forbid—touching him. Which was definitely not something she could deal with at the moment. So she kept walking.

  She heard him jogging to catch up with her. “What, can’t take a hint?” she muttered.

  “I heard that.” He fell into place beside her again.

  She stopped suddenly and turned to him as the solution came to her. He managed to stop without slamming into her, but only barely.

  “Why do you have to be here?”

  He laughed in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  “No, you don’t. I’m doing the begging. Why can’t you leave? Can you leave?”

  “Not if you’re walking around out here alone.”

  She sighed. “I don’t mean right now, I mean permanently. As in adios, see ya, good-bye.”

  Understanding dawned on his too-damn-good-looking-for-his-own-damn-good face. He folded his arms across his chest. His too-damn-broad chest. And he had those too-damn-broad shoulders, too.

  “And here I thought I was being a charming bloke.”

  She snorted. She didn’t mean to, but it slipped out.

  It got another surprised look from him; he even seemed a bit affronted, so she was glad she’d done it after all. In fact, she might do it again. Perhaps if people had done more snorting at Devin Archer earlier on, he wouldn’t be so insufferable.

  “I’m merely suggesting that your … services, such as they are, are no longer required. Baleweg is handling things by himself just fine.” Boy, was he. She still didn’t want to think about what the next step would be now that she’d made her first connection. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that for the first time, she actually felt as if she were doing what she’d been put here to do. She’d felt it lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling but seeing her past.

  Which was why Baleweg was still in the tower room in her house, and why she’d given her kennel hands more responsibilities so she could spend time with him in that tower room. Exploring the possibilities, and discovering the realities. About her mother, about herself.

  But Archer seemed to serve no purpose at all, other than to complicate an already complicated situation.

  “I believe I am handling … things, as you call them, well,” Archer said.

  “Wandering around my property and ogling my kennel help? Who, by the way, is a bit too young for you, don’t you think?”

  He laughed right in her face. “So that’s what this is? Female jealousy? I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I guess I’d thought you were above all that.” He held up a hand to stall her outraged response. And he was so off the mark. “Yes, even in my time, women still get their noses out of joint about men looking at and talking to other women.”

  “In your dreams, future man.”

  He was laughing again.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “We won’t talk about your penchant for teenagers. What I was saying was—”

  Before she could see it coming, he clasped his hand around her wrist—and yanked her right in front of him. There was not a breath of air between them.

  “Let me go.”

  There was no amused little gleam in his eyes now. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘penchant for teenagers,’ ” he ground out. “Generally, I have no trouble finding grown women to occupy my time when I wish them to occupy it. I prefer a partner who knows her way about. I’ve never been one to understand the allure of initiating the untried.”

  The untried. Talia wondered if he had any clue how close to home that remark had hit. Not that she was a virgin, but her experiences had been discouraging enough she might as well have been untried. In fact, until a few moments ago, when she’d connected with Archer, she’d almost forgotten all about … trying.

  “It might interest you to know,” he went on, mercifully disrupting her thoughts, “that we were talking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You. Your employees think you’re the savior of all things fuzzy and homeless. The old people up on the hill probably think so, too, the way they all came to your rescue. I’m surprised they all don’t drop to the ground when you pass to genuflect at your feet.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “But if you’re worried about what I am attracted to, then let me set you straight.” He moved in closer.

  Don’t think, she cautioned herself. Don’t think about him. Concentrate on something else, anything else. She didn’t want to know what he was feeling. She didn’t even want to know what she was feeling.

  “I like a woman with curves. Ample curves that fill a man’s hands. And long hair, golden bright, like sunshine spilled across my pillow. I like dark eyes that have a look to them that tells a man she knows what is what, and makes it clear she wants it, too.”

  Wait a minute. Blond hair? Ample curves? Dark eyes with that look? Talia had never known that look, much less delivered it. Not that it mattered. Archer had just described his ideal woman as being opposite in every way from her. Relief, she should be flooded with relief. But that wasn’t at all what she was feeling. She was feeling … empowered. Because no matter what he told her about his preference in women, women she wasn’t remotely like and could never hope to be, she had incontrovertible proof that he’d preferred her. At least momentarily. She’d felt it. Firsthand.

  It was that knowledge that had her turning her gaze to his, a defiant smile on her face. And maybe, just maybe, the beginnings of that look he was describing. “Since I don’t come close to fitting that description, why are you standing so close? Why aren’t you letting me go?”

  Archer’s eyes widened in very satisfac
tory surprise. Yes, she could definitely get to enjoy this look business.

  Then his surprise faded. Unfortunately, it didn’t change to irritation or frustration. She knew how to deal with that. No, his surprise faded to a smile. A knowing smile, a smile that most certainly was part of that look, a smile that could only be described as, well … carnal.

  She gulped. She wasn’t even close to mastering that look. Perhaps it was time to cut her losses and run. Really fast.

  She pulled free, moved around him, and headed toward the house at a speedy walk. Okay, a trot. She didn’t even bother listening for his footsteps. She could well imagine the smirk on his handsome face. She wasn’t even embarrassed. She should have known better than to try and play games with him. But one little peek into his head had left her feeling drunk with power.

  She made it to the steps of the house, then remembered that Baleweg was still inside. No way could she deal with him right now. She spun around, thinking she’d go to her office in the kennel, but Stella was most likely still there, watering and feeding. She spun back around and spied her truck. A drive. That’s what she needed. A drive through the countryside as the sun set. She’d roll her windows down so she could feel the night air, smell the heat of the day lift off the flowers and grasses, hear the trill of the crickets and the croaking of the frogs. She’d let the sounds of nature soothe her and help her sort out her thoughts.

  Who was she kidding? She was going to drive like a bat out of hell, trying to outrun the chaos that her life had become.

  She jumped in her truck, never more thankful that out here in the country a person could leave her keys in the ignition, and gunned the engine. She had a very satisfying vision of burning rubber and spraying gravel over Archer as he ran behind her, helpless to catch her.

  That vision was ruined when he opened the passenger door and hopped in, his demeanor calm, as if they went for evening drives all the time. She resisted smacking the steering wheel, just as she resisted dropping her head to her hands and sobbing in frustration. She had her hand on the door handle, figuring she’d rather face Baleweg or Stella, but Archer’s quiet words stopped her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Now it was her turn to look at him in surprise. “What did you say?”

  He scowled. She was feeling better by the second.

  “I said, I’m sorry. About back there. What I said. About women.”

  She leaned back and folded her arms on her chest. “Why?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why what? Can’t you just accept a man’s apology, for Christ’s sake?”

  “I’m just curious. You seem exactly the sort who’d make comments like that about women. So what is it, exactly, you’re apologizing for? I could care less what type of woman appeals to you. If anything, I suppose I should apologize to you for the crack about teenagers.”

  He swore under his breath, making Talia smile despite herself.

  “I don’t know why I bothered.” He closed the door. “Where are we off to?”

  Talia’s smile fled with the clicking of the door. Suddenly the front seat of her truck felt immeasurably smaller and far more intimate. Which was silly, really, considering Archer was about as far from feeling intimate, judging from the look on his face, as a man could be. “I don’t recall inviting you on this trip.”

  “And I don’t recall telling you it was safe to leave the premises unescorted.”

  Safe. There was that word again. She was getting mightily sick and tired of it, too. “I’m a grown woman and if I want to risk life and limb by driving around the pond tonight, well, then, it’s my risk to take.” She threw the truck into gear. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She waited for him to exit the truck.

  “Well, it’s all fine and well for you to want to risk my future and that of a large number of men, women, and children in my kingdom, but frankly, I’m not willing to take that same risk. And since I’m responsible for delivering you back home, I can’t—”

  “This is my home.”

  “You know what I meant. Back to where you belong.”

  “I belong here.” Even as she said it, she found herself not entirely believing it. What in the hell was happening to her? This was no lark into her past, doing some sort of genealogical search for her roots.

  “As soon as you help the queen, you can come back here,” he went on. “But until then, I’m in charge of making sure nothing happens to you. And that includes night drives around the pond.” He shifted in his seat and looked at her. “Didn’t you learn anything from how close you came with Dideon? He was here, on your property, in your kennels, in this truck. Do you still not comprehend the danger you are really in?”

  A moment ago, she’d have said the only real danger she was in was making a complete fool of herself with Archer. Now, listening to him, seeing the absolute seriousness in his gaze, hearing the sincerity in his voice, she began, for the first time, to honestly assess her situation.

  “You mean I really can’t take a simple drive alone?”

  As he shook his head, keeping his gaze steadily on hers, she had a sort of epiphany. A personal revelation. She’d believed she was allowing them in her life because she wanted to find out more about her mother, about her past, about her gifts. She hadn’t thought it out, not really, but then she really didn’t think she’d have to. She’d figured they’d realize she wasn’t a healer at some point and move on. She’d been using them, their knowledge, to find some kind of peace within herself. To let herself believe that she was in control.

  But she wasn’t in control. She wasn’t allowing them to do anything they wouldn’t be doing anyway. She’d just made it a lot easier for them. And perhaps she’d made it easier for herself, although that was of little comfort at the moment.

  In fact, she was a prisoner. On her own land, in her own house, in her own truck. And they were in control. As long as she was going along with their plan, they had allowed her to think she was in charge.

  “But I’m not in charge,” she voiced quietly. She turned and looked at him. “Am I?”

  Archer stared at her. On the surface, Talia Trahaern seemed strong, smart, ready to deal with anything. And maybe she was all those things. Despite Archer’s impatience to deliver her to the queen, he admitted a certain amount of admiration for how well she’d come to terms with the new direction her life had suddenly taken.

  But she had also lied to herself about the full extent of her current predicament. Just what the hell had she thought was happening?

  “I told you,” he said quietly, sensing she needed calm and rationality right now. “As soon as you are finished, you’ll be returned here. To this life.” Though why in hell she’d want to was beyond him. If he had to spend one more night listening to the droning buzz of crickets and frogs, he’d go mad.

  “There is one thing no one seems to have acknowledged,” she said quietly.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “Even if I go with you, I may not be able to help her.” She shrugged helplessly. “Baleweg is helping me … discover some things about myself. But he is not a healer. And I still don’t see any proof that I am one, either. My ability might allow me to zero in on an animal’s problem more quickly, get specific help more quickly, but this is only remarkable because animals have no other means of directly communicating their needs or ills. The queen can certainly speak of what hurts her and where.”

  Archer had no direct argument for that. Nor could he explain the little hitch in his gut as he watched her valiant struggle to remain calm and rational when he knew he represented everything that was neither calm nor rational to her.

  “Certainly medicine is more advanced in your time,” she continued. “If that has failed, what in the world could I do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not in charge of that.” He reined in his impatience. “Maybe Baleweg could find someone knowledgeable in the healing arts to train you.”

  “Then why didn’t you do that in the first place? Why did you choose
Baleweg?”

  “I didn’t choose him, he found me. And I had no choice anyway. I needed him to get back here. To you.”

  “Are there others besides him and Emrys who can move through time?”

  “Emrys?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  Archer didn’t like this at all, but there was no covering his ignorance. “You tell me.”

  “He said the one who moved Jimmy here was called Emrys. I don’t know anything else. Just that, well, there is something between him and Baleweg. At least that’s the impression he gave me.” She rubbed at her arms. “I think Emrys is helping Chamberlain as a means of getting to Baleweg somehow.”

  Archer swore under his breath.

  “He said he’d deal with him. It’s just—”

  “Just what?”

  “Nothing really. Just that, well, something about the way he said his name led me to believe you should be lucky it was Baleweg and not Emrys who contacted you.”

  “Well, if this Emrys is working for Chamberlain, that would definitely hold true. Chamberlain’s a conniving, manipulative bastard with his eye on the power of the throne. He’d sell his soul to the devil himself.” He noticed her shiver. “You’re thinking maybe Emrys is this devil?”

  She shook her head, then shrugged. “I don’t know what I think. You said time travel is not common in your time. That no one really knows they can do it. I wonder why they’ve come out now?”

  “Baleweg has no love for court or politics—he only feels he has a commitment to your mother. I think he’s remained hidden largely as a means to protect himself from those who want to subvert or abuse his skills. I can’t say that I blame him. From what I gather, he sees himself as a scholar. He is only interested in discovery and learning the extent of what the mind can do.”

  “How did he know where I was? And this Emrys, he knew, too.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  “It suited your needs, so why question it, right?”

  It was a harsh judgment, but basically true. When he said nothing, she pressed on.