Hidden Obsession

by Joanne Rock

  “If my shouting would have brought a slew of protectors running to your rescue a few minutes ago, why would you ever want me to be quiet?”

  THERE WAS A MAN in Linnet’s chamber.

  A big, attractive, dangerous man wearing foreign clothes who spoke with an accent she could not place. This same man had watched in silence as she’d removed her surcoat, and he’d flicked his tongue along her palm in a gesture that should have been obscene, yet her skin still burned from the contact.

  Her betrothed would kill her if he found out about this.

  For that matter, Graham Lawson LAPD could kill her at any moment. Or abduct her. Or abuse her. And yet, he had not threatened her. Had not turned her weapon against her or lifted the formidable sword he carried to otherwise frighten her. Already those simple clues told her his character ranked above Kendrick’s. Not that it said much for the stranger, considering the depth of her loathing for Kendrick.

  Swallowing her fears, she clasped her hands behind her back to hide their nervous twitching.

  “I attempted to spare your life with my warning. But if you do not wish a chance to escape quietly, by all means let us make enough noise to alert my stepbrothers to your presence.”

  His gaze narrowed, his silvery-blue eyes locked on her. No bulky chain mail hid his form. The striped shirt he wore fastened neatly up the front, the cut flattering to his straight shoulders even if the shape of the garment resembled none she’d ever seen. He wore his sword strapped to his back in an unusual sheath. His braies—or whatever the garment that covered his legs—fit him so admirably she could not quite convince herself that it was the blue fabric that drew her eye.

  Wrenching her gaze back up to his face, she studied his visage with equal interest. No facial hair hid his features, but a dark shadow of whiskers covered his jaw. Raven-colored hair had been trimmed close to his head, accentuating his unusual eyes and stark features too strong to be handsome.

  Intriguing, perhaps. Compelling, even.

  So much so that for a moment, she half wondered if this could be the mysterious stranger who’d come to her in her dreams lately. Her body heated at the thought. She’d told herself she had merely begun to experience sensual dreams because of her prolonged virginity, thanks to her family keeping her under lock and key to honor her betrothal. Plus she’d caught one of the knights swiving a maid behind the kitchens a fortnight ago. A sight that had made her quite…restless…ever since.

  “I find it hard to believe you would be concerned about sparing the life of a stranger who spied on you. What’s in it for you?”

  She blinked, grateful for the change of subject since she could not afford to lose herself in sensual visions while a stranger remained in her chamber. She puzzled over his odd turn of phrase even though she suspected she understood the meaning.

  “You mean to ask how my silence benefits me?” She saw no harm in telling him a portion of the truth. “I am not particularly fond of my stepbrothers and I fear any disruption to their evening of drinking and whoring will not be appreciated, but make no mistake, their displeasure is far less intimidating than a man who wishes me bodily harm.”

  “Harm?” His head cocked back as if surprised. “I don’t know what angle you’re playing, lady, but maybe I’d better step out into the hallway or at least open the door so you can’t cry harassment at a later date. I don’t know how I got in the wardrobe thing over there, but I sure as hell didn’t come in here with the intent to hurt you.”

  “Only to watch me without my knowledge.” Her skin tingled with awareness at the memory of how much she’d disrobed under his watchful eyes.

  “Again, not my intention, but the view seemed too fortuitous to just close my eyes and ignore the show.” He surprised her with a tight pull of his lips that just might have been a smile. “Some women would be flattered.”

  “I find that highly unlikely.” She thought her skin had flushed before? Now the heat crawled right out of her bodice to climb her neck and heat her cheeks. The man spoke with far too much familiarity. And that strange accent—she could not come close to guessing the land of his birth. “In fact, I find your whole story implausible.”

  “You want to talk about implausible? Believe me, sweetheart, I’ve got a doozy for you but I don’t think you’re in any shape to listen with an open mind.” He pulled her dagger from his waist and set it aside. Out of her reach on the trunk at the end of her bed. “I’d rather not risk another go-round with a knife. Not hiding any more blades in all those clothes, are you?”

  She thought to question him about the nature of a doozy and then stopped herself since it didn’t matter.

  “I do not think that I will divulge my secrets to you, intruder.” She did not care for his tone or his manner, even if he didn’t seem interested in abducting her or abusing her. “And since you say you do not know how you came to be in my chamber, I realize you cannot serve any useful purpose for me. Perhaps we have reached an impasse and I will call for my pig-witted kin after all.”

  She moved toward her door but he reached to restrain her movement. He gripped her arm firmly but not hard enough to leave bruises. She spared a glance down at his hand and was surprised at the cleanliness of his skin, so unlike her stepbrothers or Kendrick, who were convinced that bathing made them more susceptible to illness.

  Sweet, merciful heaven, this man even smelled clean.

  “Don’t.” His word was more fierce than his hold. “Wait.”

  She sucked in a breath, praying she had not misjudged his character. Praying she would not embarrass herself by falling against this intriguing stranger and begging him to take her away from here. Anywhere.

  “Be honest. Why are you so interested in how I got into the room?”

  The low timbre of his voice suggested intimacy. Confidences. The tone sent a shiver of awareness through a body suddenly tingling with anticipation. She swallowed back the unexpected flicker of heat and sought the right words that would convey her situation without arousing his sympathy for her brothers.

  Her betrothed.

  If Graham Lawson could be bought with gold, she would be better off not revealing the identity of her powerful future husband. Still, she could not overlook the opportunity he presented.

  “I am not so much interested in how you arrived in the chamber as how you arrived in the keep.”

  “Why?” He looked over his shoulder toward the arrow slit where he had peered out before, but still he did not release her.

  What did he seek out her window? Did he search for an enemy?

  “Because if I knew how you slipped into the walls, I would use that same way to sneak out.” Her heartbeat jumped oddly at his touch while the heat of his hand penetrated the sleeve of her kirtle. A friendly gesture, not one of restraint. The difference was obvious.

  Delicious.

  “Whether I remember the way in or not, I assure you, I can get us out.” He released her arm, his words certain and laced with endless male confidence.

  Linnet found herself mourning the loss of his touch.

  “Is that so?” She thought about her brothers keeping watch in the courtyard and did not believe Graham. Yet she wanted to. Desperately.

  “Lady, I need to get the hell out of here ASAP.”

  “Excuse me?” His unusual speech combined with his apparent affection for reeling off letters made him difficult to understand.

  “I said I’m ready to leave when you are so I can uncover whatever two-bit charade you’ve got going here. Feel free to come along for the ride when I expose the medieval trappings as a fraud and you can bet I’m going to have words with that night watchman.”

  Fraud? Charade? She had no notion what he suggested, but his tone implied a lack of trust on his part. Understandable.

  Still, she would be beyond foolish to trust a man who had appeared out of nowhere to observe her secretly in her own chamber. And to follow such a man out of her home into lands unknown with no protector, no house, no lands to provide safe h
aven…

  Sheer madness.

  “You have a mount ready?” She wasn’t honestly considering it. Yet hadn’t she prayed for deliverance from Burke Kendrick every night since he’d arrived at Welborne Keep with enough gold to take whatever he wished?

  Who was she to dictate the way her prayers were answered? Perhaps God sent messengers in the form of devilishly handsome men whose touch made her tongue-tied.

  “A mount.” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow and peered down at her. “You mean a horse?”

  She wouldn’t let his lack of an animal deter her. Because the more she thought about this, the more she had to leave. Right now.

  “I can find you a mount. It’s just that when you asked me to join you for a ride I assumed you had brought your own animal with you.” She moved around her chamber swiftly, packing a few things to bring with her, grabbing what few possessions she had with any sentimental value.

  “It’s an expression. ‘Come along for the ride.’” He stared at her as if she had no sense.

  But to be fair, she probably didn’t. She was attempting to leave her birthplace with the man who had beheld her half-naked, but she trusted him because…he smelled favorably and his fingers were clean?

  How witless and idle-headed could a woman be? She wanted to trust this man because he made her heart flutter pleasantly within her breast.

  “Fine.” She rolled up her belongings in a small bundle and then hesitated as she reached for her dagger on the trunk. “I’d rather like to bring a weapon. Will you be so kind as not to take this from me again?”

  “Sure.” He seemed to give approval, but his focus lingered on something beside her bed. The wine decanter? Her silver cup? “What’s this?”

  Oh. No.

  Her mortification knew no bounds as he held up one of Kendrick’s parting gifts.

  “I…” She simply wouldn’t answer. Surely he knew the purpose of the hateful object since the shape of the device practically shrieked its intent. Then again, perhaps not all men used such implements in their attentions toward women. “Pray, do not embarrass me.”

  Linnet had thrown it into the farthermost reaches of her trunks in the past, but evil Edana continuously resurrected the device in order to upset her. Linnet’s cheeks heated unbearably as she remembered the times Kendrick had threatened her with the small tool made of horn and wood decorated with elaborate carvings.

  “Holy hell.” He smacked the item back onto the table. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Are you helping me depart, or not? Because I’d be much more comfortable discussing your plan than some cruel gift bestowed upon me by the man I most wish to escape.”

  In fact, seeing the item Kendrick had laughingly referred to as the Initiator only affirmed Linnet’s desire to run as far and fast as she could. Perhaps the stranger would take her to London where she could seek shelter as a lady’s maid. A very lowly lady so that her identity would not be important.

  “Cruel?” He peered down at the object again, frowning. “Lady, where I come from, women collect sex toys like trading cards.”

  “Toys?” Heat rushed to her cheeks.

  “Definitely. And I don’t mean to belabor the issue, but the carvings are of interest to me because they might be a link to a criminal.”

  “Local law enforcement.” She remembered the peculiar way he had described himself earlier and shivered at the vision of his hands upon the item she’d come to abhor. Would she still detest the object if Graham had been the one to touch her with it? “By all means, take the wicked thing far from my sight. I certainly have no desire to see it ever again.”

  She only wished she could rid herself of the other, even more hateful item Kendrick had bestowed upon her, but tonight, she would settle for escape.

  “Fair enough.” He swept up another one of her bed linens and packed the carving inside the bundle along with the wine and some fruit from her table. Rolling the supplies into a neat parcel much as she had done, he headed for the door. “Are you ready? We’re going to blow this clambake so I can get back to the precinct and research those carvings.”

  “Linnet?” Edana Kendrick’s voice floated through the door before Graham could open it. “Whom are you talking to at this hour?”

  Linnet panicked, attempting to shove Graham toward the wardrobe, but he was cursedly hard to move. Before she could form a reply, Edana continued.

  “I have brought reinforcements with me, my lady, since you seemed to have so much trouble opening your door to a woman who will soon be your own kin.”

  Already a key turned in the lock, and Graham was nowhere near the wardrobe.

  Linnet’s great plan for escape would be foiled before it even began. All three of her stepbrothers filled the doorway. And, upon seeing Graham Lawson LAPD, they let out a war cry that could have been heard to London and back. Saints preserve them, Graham would be killed for his transgression against her before she ever had the chance to fully savor his touch—before she ever discovered if he was the same stranger who filled her most private fantasies.

  3

  NORMALLY, GRAHAM WOULDN’T CARE that he’d let the bad guys one-up him in front of Linnet, since he had a bigger, better plan in mind. But the disappointment in Linnet’s eyes…

  Damn. How could her reaction tweak his conscience so soundly when they’d only just met?

  Graham stared up at Welborne Keep from his position in the courtyard where he’d allowed himself to be taken prisoner. Linnet had even gone so far as to toss him an extra sword to defend himself when the hulking knights had gotten hold of him, since Graham had discreetly deposited his personal weapon behind her bed. And Graham hated disappointing her, but only Hollywood heroes took dumb-ass risks with civilian lives to go ballistic on their enemies. He’d underestimated Linnet’s warning about her stepbrothers, still hanging tough to his personal theory that she was part of some crazy living-history exhibit at the museum.

  He couldn’t afford to underestimate his situation again. Not with the knowledge that the Guardians were committing more and more blatant crimes in L.A. while he hung around Welborne Keep with shackles weighing him down. He needed to choose his time and place for escape once he got a better handle on his surroundings, since he was still blown away by whatever had happened to him to drop him in a convincing-as-hell medieval setting.

  There were no lights in the distance in this remote location. No planes roaring overhead. No car engines from a nearby highway. No radio broadcast drifting on the wind from far away. Not even big-money producers could make those conditions happen in L.A.

  He tested the iron chains around his wrists and found them just as competent as the last time he’d checked. Five seconds ago. The scent of horses, strong whiskey and piss assailed his nose in this corner of the courtyard. A wooden arch nearby still held a dangling carcass of some poor soul who hadn’t escaped the Welbornes.

  From his position outside the ring of light from the bonfire, Graham watched Linnet’s oafish stepbrothers argue over everything from what to do with their prisoner to which one of them could hawk a spit wad farther. Graham figured he’d have plenty of time for strategizing how to smuggle Linnet from the gargantuan castle. He didn’t understand the fears that made her want to run, but they had to be substantial to prompt her to take such a risk with him.

  One brother clubbed the other in the head when the argument over the spitting range got out of hand, and Graham began to think he’d made a wise move in delaying his departure from Welborne. At this rate, his captors would all pick one another off and spare Graham the dirty work.

  Until then, he studied the padlock holding one chain around his wrists and the other securing a cuff around his ankle. In the deep darkness, he couldn’t see much other than a brief impression that the lock looked absurdly simple.

  Unfastening his belt, he already had a tool in mind to pick the restraint, and promptly went to work with the pin that normally held the belt in place. Whether or not he wanted to believe he’d fal
len through some weirdo time door into another era, the chains holding him to this post in the middle of the courtyard were real enough.

  Later, he’d figure out how to get back to L.A. and share his findings about the Guardians with his department. The markings on the carving Linnet possessed were the same symbols he’d seen on the haft of the weapon Miguel had shown him, so there must have been a connection at work here. The fact that Graham had discovered the intricate signs on a twelfth-century dildo surely explained something about his case, but he didn’t know what. Until he learned where Linnet had gotten the sex toy and why she considered the item a “cruel gift,” Graham wouldn’t be leaving the woman’s side.

  And wouldn’t that be an interesting conversation?

  Not only could I not stop myself from leering at you while you undressed, I’ll also need a list of your former sex partners and the complete history of this dildo.

  Was dildo even a word in the twelfth century? Personal pleasure aid, maybe.

  Shit.

  While Linnet’s stepbrothers shared a few drinks with some other guards near the gatehouse, Graham successfully picked the first lock. The chains on his wrists loosened, but he didn’t slide them off yet in case one of the half-drunk bozos came over to check on him. Setting to work on the second lock, he devised a plan for getting back into the keep.

  Back into Linnet’s bedroom.

  Because no matter that he hadn’t worked in the field for a while, Graham bet he knew his way around a sword as well as her brothers. He could get Linnet out of here now that he’d taken measure of the situation and knew what they were up against.

  The fact that he’d have to spend a little more time in close quarters with a sexy medieval maiden didn’t exactly seem like an imposition.

  LINNET FOUGHT SLEEP almost as hard as she fought the stupid tears sure to leak out of her eyes if she gave in to exhaustion and simply relaxed. She lay in bed well past midnight thinking about her strange encounter with Graham, a man who’d been prepared to steal her away from Welborne and her dreaded nuptials forever. Except that—despite his size and obvious strength—he lacked the sword prowess of a battle-hardened warrior.