“You are, too? I am truly surprised. You pass well,” Charbonneau told the suntanned man. He allowed his wrist to heal and dropped his arm.
“They thought you might feel more…at ease with me, rather than one of our other representatives,” Justin told him.
“I appreciate the courtesy.”
“Do you feel comfortable enough to tell us why you are here?” Justin asked.
“Certainly.” Charbonneau waved his hand around the replica historical room. “I want to become a time travel courier for Chronologic Tours.”
* * * * *
Not a single sound emerged from inside the tent, not even the noise of a spoon against a platter. It was that absence that finally drove Rob back inside, to check on his captive.
The tent was utterly empty. The cold plate of stew sat untouched where he’d left it. She must have made her move the moment he’d turned his back.
Even as he rushed back out and around the tent, drawing his dagger as he went, he marvelled at the sheer relentlessness of the woman. Despite the very real threat of having her throat cut before she reached the edge of the encampment, she still persisted in trying to escape.
No, to find her wretched manservant, he corrected himself.
Rob changed directions and slowed to a brisk walk, which wouldn’t stir curiosity amongst those who still were sober enough to take interest in one of their officers running through the lines.
He headed for the wagon where the manservant had been hobbled. It was on the edges of the camp, far from any warming fire, but there was hay in it for the horses and if the man had the sense of one, he’d bury himself in the stuff and welcome the soft bed.
As Rob neared the wagon, he slowed, studying the shadows around it. Finally, he spotted her. She stood as still as a stone in the shadows of the quarter-master’s big tent, watching the wagon and all who moved around it. She must have just found the man and was now scouting for her opportunity to free him. She still appeared unarmed, so how she intended to cut the rope was a mystery to Rob. As for stealing the bumbling fool out through a pack of well-trained soldiers…she was as foolish as her manservant.
Rob gripped his dirk and slid around the tent, stealing up on her from behind. He had years of experience at it and she was used to the ways of the great hall and castle keep. He slapped his hand over her mouth and touched the blade to her throat before she was able to so much as draw breath in reaction.
“Ye’re stubborn like a highland colleen, I’ll give ye that,” he breathed in her ear. “Back up now, back to my tent. Draw no attention to yeself. Every man still awake this night has drink and food in him and is just spoiling for a bit o’ light fluff like you to dally with. D’ye hear me?”
She nodded and he felt her step back as he did. After a few more steps, he let go of her mouth and gripped her arm instead. He lowered the dagger, but kept it in his hand.
Finally, when they reached the comparative safety of his tent, he allowed himself to relax just a little. He adjusted the low-burning lantern and turned to look at her.
She stood with her arms around her, as if she were cold, assessing him with an expression that held no anger and no fear.
“Ye daft, ye hear?” he said, feeling fury building in him. “They’d’ve slit ye man’s throat for ye, and kept ye for sport.”
“I’d have made it to safety.”
“No, ye bloody wouldn’t!” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Don’t ye understand how this works?” It was uncanny the way her eyes seemed to pierce through his flesh.
“You keep me captive until someone who cares enough offers coin for my return. You get rich and I get to go free. In theory.”
“In theory?” He took a breath, let it out. “Let me tell ye the real truth. I capture ye and keep ye in my tent until yer family come to claim ye, lest those restless, bored soldiers out there decide to play a different game. If I dinna pull ye here by sword point this day and made sure ye were seen as mine, ye’d’ve been found by one of the others. They’re all good men, but they’re men and they’ll see you as English…”
“I understand,” she said softly.
Her eyes were drawing him in. He found himself stepping closer, his temper converting to a more languorous heat. “Ye may be right about the English coming and if ye are, this land will empty of anything but two armies intent on wiping the other off the face of God’s earth. I dinna care who ye think ye are, ye won’t survive that. Not if ye insist on taking that useless mare of a servant of yours.”
She took a breath. Another. “I can’t explain it, other than to assure you that I must take him with me.”
He nodded. “Then the only way ye get to go home at all is if ye remain my property until I can get ye home to yer family.”
“And if they don’t claim me?”
“Then ye must stay here until the war is won or lost.”
“But I cannot stay here until mid-summer—”
“Mid-summer? Who told you the deadline?” he demanded sharply.
She bit her lip. “I guessed,” she said at last. “Can you not find a way to smuggle us out of the camp again? Perhaps, back to the Bannock burn?”
“And let the English pick ye up? Nay, I’ll not do that.”
She closed her eyes. “Do you not understand that as long as you keep me here, I must find a way to escape? I cannot explain why, except to say that I would be betraying my own duty if I did not make the attempt.”
“Then I must stay with ye.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“If ye must make the attempt, I must stay with ye to be sure ye don’t.”
“Now who’s being bloody ridiculous?” She looked amazed. Anger was stirring in her eyes. He could see it.
Rob bent down and picked up the rope he’d discarded earlier and tied it about her wrist. “And don’t be trying to unpick it, for it’ll just tighten more,” he told her. “I know how to tie a good knot.” Then he lifted his own wrist.
She tried to pull away when she realized his intention, but he was braced for it and held her arm and tied the knot one-handed. His side didn’t need to be as intricate as hers. Then he lifted up his wrist, tugging her forearm up by the rope between them. “Here ye be and here ye stay, until the English are but blood on the field.”
Fury blazed in her eyes. “Rob, ye cannot—“
“Finally, ye acknowledge my name,” he said.
She fell silent, but her chest was heaving with her anger.
Rob wrapped his anchored arm around her waist and drew her closer. She fought him, pushing against his arms and chest, but he simply tightened his hold and waited until her strength gave out.
She gave in with a shuddering breath and he felt her arms and shoulders give way. Her head dropped.
Rob lifted her chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at him. “’tis meant as a kindness, Natalie. You’ll understand, by and by.”
Her gaze was steady. The fury had gone. “I understand well enough.” Her voice was low. “’tis no way I leave this camp a maiden. Not tied to your wrist for half a summer.”
His body tightened. Thrummed. “Well as maybe, lass. You chose the terms of ye capture.” His voice emerged harsher than he’d have liked. “Count your blessings. If I’d left ye out there this night ye’d be the entertainment of the entire army.”
She shuddered.
Rob relented. “Will ye not tell me ye family name, Natalie? Let me send word? Then all this will be over in a matter of days.”
She shook her head. “I cannot.”
Rob sighed. “Then the matter must proceed as ye have chosen.” He stroked her cheek. “I’ll do my best to ensure you don’t regret yer choice.”
Chapter Three
“Charbonneau wants what?” Ursella breathed.
“He’s vampire. He qualifies. There’s no reason he can’t be a time travel courier if he wants to be one.” Nayara nearly smiled and Ryan knew she enjoyed revealing that fact to Ursella.
&
nbsp; “He…is?” Ursella licked her lips and sat back again. “If that is all he wants, then why bring this to us?” She was trying to look pissed at the interruption, but she was shaken by Charbonneau’s vampirism and couldn’t quite pull it off.
Nayara looked surprised. “Because I don’t know why,” she said simply.
Ryan nodded agreement. “Humans want the Chronometric Conservation Agency to exist to make sure a time tsunami never happens again. I’ve never hidden the reasons why Nayara and I agreed to operate under that oversight.”
“’Jobs for vampires’,” Ursella quoted. “You don’t have to lecture me.”
“No, not jobs,” Ryan shot back. “Acceptance. Lives. A reason to continue to exist. And yes, a legitimate source of income. You have no idea how many vampires out there are living in the cracks and borders of humanity, feeding off scum, with barely any idea of how to live a life as themselves and not just by passing as human.”
Nayara touched his wrist. It was rare for Nayara to reach out and the light sensation was enough to make Ryan sit himself back and swallow the rest of his lecture. He threw the stylus back on the desk and grimaced at Ursella. “A landed, rich vampire, who has been passing for centuries, suddenly fronts up and wants to become a traveller, for what would amount to pocket change in his world? I want to know why, too.”
“Maybe he’s bored and wants to do something different,” Ursella suggested.
“We don’t have anyone who goes that far back, from France. Eastern Europe, and into Scandinavia, but not France.” Nayara licked her lips. “It’s tempting, regardless of why he wants to do it.” She blinked and her gaze turned inward as she accessed her personal communications.
“Better to keep him near where we can watch him,” Ryan said.
Nayara held up her hand for silence. Something important, then.
He waited and even Ursella remained politely quiet.
“An early warning. One of our travellers hasn’t returned on schedule,” Nayara murmured. Her eyes refocused on Ryan. “It’s Natália,” she said.
Ursella stood up and brushed down her dress. She always wore white and it always looked pristine. Most Agency personnel had got sick of making jokes about it. “This is operational,” she said briskly. “We can pick up again another time, Ryan.”
“Yes,” he murmured, watching Nayara as she continued to scan the alert. “Thank you, Ursella,” he told the woman, as she stepped out of his office.
Nayara turned to face him. “It isn’t urgent yet. Natália was rested, freshly fed, and it was supposed to be a simple day jaunt. Her companion wanted to see Stirling Castle under siege. That was the siege that triggered the Battle of Bannockburn, in ancient Scotland. No, sorry, medieval Scotland. 1314, old calendar.”
“She has a long while before stasis poisoning could start to kick in.”
“And she’s experienced, highly trained and smart, too,” Nayara said. “Even security aren’t worried yet. There’s all sorts of potential problems she might need time to unravel. Rushing in there will spoil the location and could set off a time tremor.”
Ryan drummed the desk. He knew all this as well as Nayara did. “Have you told Christian yet?”
Nayara hesitated. “He’s seeing Ursella over to Halfway Station.”
“You’re waiting until he gets back?”
“I thought it best. There isn’t anything he can do, anyway.” She looked around the office, glancing out the broad bank of windows at the star field and cleared her throat self-consciously.
“Is there something else?” Ryan asked, puzzled.
Nayara shook her head. “I was just wondering—” She shook her head again. “I wondered why Christian and Tally don’t…It’s clear they….” Nayara drew in a breath and let it out. She grimaced and looked away.
“It’s clear they love each other?” Ryan finished. He realized his heart was working. Working hard. He let his gaze travel over Nayara slowly, taking in the waist-length tumble of red curls, the kelly green eyes and white, white skin. For all that Nayara had emerged from the Mesopotamian basin centuries before Ryan’s ancestors had settled in Eire, to Ryan’s eyes, she often looked as sweet as any Irish colleen.
It didn’t matter to Ryan that Nayara was so powerful and skilled a fighter she could probably best him and two others besides. Her fighting prowess was a bonus. The knowledge sat in the back of his mind like an invisible aphrodisiac, even as he was admiring her feminine curves and softness.
Nayara turned back to face him again, squaring her shoulders. “Yes,” she said firmly. “They love each other. Yet they do nothing about it. Why?” Her gaze pinned Ryan to his chair. Challenging him.
Ryan focused on the medallion at Nayara’s throat, nestled between the open neck of the leather jacket she wore. The ancient medallion with its elaborate Celtic scrollwork. All his warm feelings evaporated. His heart silenced, even as a hundred painful old memories rifled through his mind, too fast for his conscious to linger over, but enough for all the warmth in his body to congeal.
“Perhaps their history gets in the way,” Ryan said, using the explanation that made the most sense to him right then. History for vampires was everything.
Nayara’s challenging gaze faltered. Pain flickered in her eyes and expression. He’d reminded her. Again. Ryan silently cursed himself.
Nayara waved toward the door. “I must see Brenden in Security, about Natália. And I’ll wait for Christian and let him know as soon as he gets back.” She slipped out the door as she spoke and was gone.
Ryan rubbed his temples as he studied the closed door, feeling a weariness he knew he could not possibly be feeling. “Dia sé diabhal go hIfreann,” he muttered. He didn’t believe in a god or hell, but the curse did help relieve his feelings. A little.
* * * * *
Still mostly asleep, Natália rolled onto her side to relieve the ache in her spine from sleeping on the ground. She found herself up against the solid heat of Rob’s back. She blinked for a few seconds, staring at the white of his shirt, bringing things back into focus. Sleeping was still a novelty and the gathering of thoughts upon waking took extra effort.
Was this a moment she could take advantage of to escape and find Leuwis? Were Rob’s shoulders really that wide?
But she had jostled him and as she lay considering her options, Rob contrived to roll and face her without tangling them both up in the rope that bound them together. It had taken little time for them to become painfully experienced with the arrangement.
Rob’s very blue eyes stared into hers and while she recognized that the moment to escape had passed, there was not much regret attached to it. There would be other moments.
“I woke you. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I was thinking, not sleeping.” His bound hand came to rest over her waist. It seemed like a natural movement, but Tally’s body came to instant alert. She could feel the heat of his hand through her clothing.
Mentally, she fought and argued with herself, as she had been for the two days she had been Rob’s prisoner and realized the predicament she was in. Leuwis was safe enough for as long as Rob thought he was her manservant and a ransom could be raised for her. For a highlander of his time, Rob was smart, kind and principled, but if he learned that no one would ever come to pay for her, Tally couldn’t predict what he would do with them both.
But in the meantime, she had to deal with Rob himself…and her own betraying body.
The blessing—and curse—of travelling back into history was this two-edged bonus. A vampire’s symbiot went into stasis with a jump back in time. That meant the vampire became essentially human again. The flood of real human sensations and emotions were wonderful…and terrifying if one wasn’t used to it. Tally had become accustomed to the rush of sensations and emotions long ago. Seasoned travellers grew to enjoy the side benefits of becoming human for a short while; eating and drinking, sleeping…and sex. Sex was a thousand times better when all the senses were fully engaged and you c
ould feel with all your body and nerve endings.
The agency didn’t advertise the fact and it wasn’t talked about openly, but most of the travellers freely enjoyed themselves when they were back in history. The agency made no move to prevent it. There was no disease or infection the travellers could catch that could be brought back to their personal timeline and all the travellers were trained to avoid historical anomalies and prevent time waves.
Tally couldn’t simply indulge herself with Rob, though, despite the way her body was tugging her toward him. He thought her a maiden from a good English family and was expecting they would hot foot it to the encampment to pay for her release once word wended its way to them. If she revealed her less-than-maidenly state, he would know something was awry and everything would unravel from there. Rob was not stupid. She had learned that much already.
The idea of a smart man brought the thought/image of Lee into her mind, as she had last seen him. They had been arguing. Everyone who knew Lee, especially women, always spoke of him as being so polite and quiet-spoken. If only, Tally thought wryly, they saw him just once with his dander up! But Lee only showed Tally his true nature, as if he didn’t care what she thought of him. With her, he thrust aside his Southern chivalry and bared his hot temper and fiery demands. Lately, it was a rare day if they didn’t tear shreds from each other.
And always, it came back to travelling.
Lee, despite being made nearly two centuries later than her, was convinced he was a better traveller than her. Or, his campaign to have her quit the medieval tours and travel in tandem with him, the more safety-conscious one, made it seem like he believed he was better than her.
It was true that his fury over her timing of tours had made her more conscientious about resting properly between tours and letting her symbiot recover. Perhaps that was a good thing. As a result, she had started this tour completely fresh and fully recovered. What would Lee say if he knew of her dilemma now?
Bannockburn Binding (Beloved Bloody Time) Page 3
