Authors: t
looked staunchly ahead.
Baylor turned his head as she approached. “What a pleasant surprise, my
pet. You’re just in time to enjoy a little scenario.”
Morgan smiled at Baylor and sauntered past Alan as if he were not there. “I
was going to surprise you with some news—but what is this about?”
“Just a little discipline. Alan forgot to give me some needed information
about the inspector residing at Smith’s.” He nodded toward the other guard.
“Proceed.”
The man raised the small whip to strike against Alan’s penis. He paled, but
remained still.
“Wait!” Morgan said.
Baylor looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Wait?”
She forced herself to give him a sultry look and swung her hips as she
walked toward the trunk filled with various sex toys. Removing a phallic ring,
she moved toward Alan and expertly fitted it over him, tightening it to the
point where he would be numb shortly and not feel much pain. Then she
took the small crop from the guard. “I know how to do this,” she said.
Alan finally turned to look directly at her, a trusting look in his eyes. For a
moment, she almost fumbled, but Baylor was watching. Deftly she flicked
the tip of it across his now-engorged erection. And then again and a third
time. She was careful to make it look like she was striking a lot harder than
she was.
“You’re not hurting him, my pet,” Baylor said.
She tilted her head and gave him her most seductive smile. “I don’t need to
remind you that a little pain is a turn-on and when there is no release from
this—” She stroked the length of Alan’s member “—it brings unbearable
tension. Now isn’t that better than beating someone?”
Baylor gave her a wicked smile. “Ah, you are correct, my dear. Continue.”
Morgan turned back to Alan, willing him to act like he was in real pain. His
eyes widened slightly as her thought form hit him and then he began to
groan. Baylor laughed.
“Maybe I should have you give my boys lessons, my pet.”
“Maybe you should,” she said and stroked Alan again, this time loosening the
ring, blocking Baylor’s sight of him with her hips, allowing Alan’s release.
“Go limp,” she whispered and he sagged as much as he could against the
collar.
“Lower it before he chokes,” she snapped to one of the guards. “There’s no
sense in killing him.”
The guard looked toward Baylor who nodded. Caldwell collapsed in a heap
on the floor. Morgan stepped over him and dropped the whip and ring back
into the box.
“So tell me why you came here today, Morgan.”
She turned back to Baylor. “You asked me to find Sigurd. I think there is a
way we might.”
“Oh?”
“I can use the reporter woman as bait.”
“Why would Sigurd be interested in her?”
“Because she has a dragon tattoo,” Morgan said and then smiled slowly. “A
red dragon tattoo.”
Baylor hissed. “A follower of Pendragon!”
“I can cast a spell to lure Sigurd to her. While he’s feeding, we can capture
him.”
He nodded. “Cast the spell, my pet. But,” he added, “we capture him before
he feeds. If this girl is a follower of Pendragon, then I want her alive.” He
laughed ominously. “I’ll finally have some leverage with the damn Fates that
got me here.”
This could be really romantic, Chloe thought as Gavin turned the headlights
and ignition off and let the car glide silently off the gravel road to stop
behind several scrub oaks. A couple of hundred yards away the lake lapped
gently at the shore, rippling silver from the light of a nearly full moon. Even
the weather was cooperating; cool enough to cuddle, not cold enough for
layers of clothes. Gavin could lay her down on the grass, press his body
against hers—
“Are you coming along or do you wish to stay in the car, Miss Whitney?”
Gavin asked as he opened the door for her.
Damn. She hadn’t seen him come around the car again. Her erotic fantasies
were really taking their toll. “Of course I’m coming,” she said and pulled out
her notepad and pen.
“You won’t need those.”
“Every reporter needs these.”
“Miss Whitney,” Gavin said in a tone one used for inattentive children. “I
believe I told you we are not here for a story. Now come.”
Like she wouldn’t like to come. But Gavin was already walking away. Geez.
How could a man who was so hot-looking have such a cool demeanor? If all
Englishmen showed this little interest in women how in the world had Britain
ever populated itself?
But then, Chloe told herself as she followed him, maybe it was just her he
wasn’t interested in. After all, they were here to spy on the Sisterhood Circle
because Morgan was a part of it. Although, of course, Gavin didn’t admit
that. Oh, no. He had said he wanted more information on the group that
Sara Kincaid had belonged to and Chloe had looked up the archives on
condition that she could accompany him. “Ouch!” she said as she tripped on
a tree root in the rutted path.
“Shhh!” Gavin turned around. “We don’t want them to know we’re here!” He
looked down at her sandals. “You should have worn sensible shoes, Miss
Whitney.”
Sensible shoes. She didn’t own any. Sensible was not an adjective she ever
used for anything. “B-o-r-i-n-g,” she said.
Gavin blew out a breath and took her arm as they proceeded. “I just don’t
want you tripping.”
Well, okay. She didn’t mind if he wanted to play knight-in-shining-armor.
Not at all. His hand was firm and comforting, although she was surprised to
realize he had calluses on his palms. That didn’t fit with the Armani suits he
favored or the casually stylish clothes he wore. Even tonight, his black
turtleneck was cashmere, the denim jeans high-end. Now if she could just
convince him to take them off—
“Here’s a good spot,” Gavin said and gestured to a place behind some low
rocks not too far from the shore. It didn’t look all that comfortable to her,
but he’d already crouched down, his back to her. So much for romantic
inclinations. With a sigh, she sank down beside him.
“What is it that you think you’ll see tonight?” she asked. “Witches dancing
naked under the moon?”
“Shhh!” he said again. “People are coming!”
Chloe turned to follow his gaze. Several women emerged from another
group of trees and she wondered how they’d gotten there. Even though this
was a popular boating and fishing lake, the area they were in was pretty
desolated, given that the slough was pretty shallow. Probably a perfect place
for teenagers to make-out on the weekends—if that was a term they still
used these days. It would certainly do for her, if Gavin would just—
Chloe shook her head. Gavin had a one-track mind, it seemed, and it wasn’t
centered on her. She focused on the women. They were all dressed in long,
flowing robes that looked light blue although it was hard to tell in the
moonlight. Each was holding a round object. She spotted Morgan’s auburn
hair. Another woman, dressed in green with flowing platinum hair
approached from an area near them. Chloe glanced backwards. Where had
that woman parked?
She watched as they gathered in a circle. The round objects turned out to be
candles as each was lit and the women held them high and began to chant
as they moved clockwise. The green-robed woman stood in the middle of the
circle and appeared to be its leader. The chanting changed, turned more into
a droning sound, and then became very melodious as they began a
harmonious litany, moving in graceful, fluid movements with their music.
“It’s pretty,” she whispered.
“Shhh!”
Well, geez. Gavin didn’t have to treat her like some nit-wit child. It wasn’t
like those women could hear her or something. She turned her attention
back to the ritual which seemed to be concluding as the circle stopped and
then walked counter-clockwise one time.
“Widdershins,” Gavin said below his breath.
“What?” Chloe asked.
“Shhh!”
“Don’t ‘shhh’ me if you’re going to talk,” she huffed back and then watched
as the women dispersed the way they had come. After the last one
disappeared behind the copse of trees, Chloe asked, “Ready to leave now? I
didn’t see anything special—”
Her words were lost as Gavin suddenly crushed her to him, his mouth
covering hers in a heated kiss. Chloe gasped, only to find his tongue
entering her, his hands sliding along her back, pulling her even closer. His
lips were firm, his kiss demanding as he deepened it, sucking her tongue
into his mouth. Oh, Lord, he felt good—
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude!”
Chloe stiffened at the sound of a woman’s voice, but Gavin kept her muffled
against his shoulder as he turned his head slightly and muttered something.
She heard the woman’s footsteps retreating and peeked over Gavin’s
shoulder. It was the woman in the green robes. Damn it. Just when things
were finally going the way she wanted—
And then Gavin was on his feet, lifting her up. “That was close,” he said.
Chloe stared at him. The kiss had been a gimmick? She felt like she’d
swallowed a sack of marbles. Of course it had. Gavin didn’t want to be
caught spying. She’d been a fool to think otherwise.
Well, she could be cool too. Lifting her chin, she somehow managed to
smile.
“Anytime,” she said and started toward the car, walking as regally as she
could in the dark.
She just hoped she didn’t trip on another darned tree root. The last thing
she wanted right now was Gavin’s help. With anything.
****
that morning when he got down to the dining room for a late breakfast. A
part of him wanted to see her to prove to himself that the kiss had been only
a fleeting attraction. What man wouldn’t enjoy a kiss when he hadn’t had
any relations in a good while?
What he hadn’t expected was Chloe’s total responsiveness to him. She fit
against him perfectly, her body molding its soft curves to him in all the right
places. Nor had he expected how electrifying it was to feel her hands slide
across his shoulders and finger through his hair. Her lips had been soft and
warm, her mouth hot and she tasted like the sweetest ambrosia without
even a speck of blood being had.
He hadn’t desired a woman so completely since his days at Arthur’s court.
Gavin sipped his coffee—laced with synthetic blood—and contemplated.
From what Chloe had told him about the Circle of the Sisterhood, the group
practiced white magic. Sara Kincaid had been the leader until her
disappearance and the warlock Michael had served as the group’s druid to
balance the yin and yang energy. Gavin grinned. The easiest way to balance
the female and male energy was sex. Gavin remembered the old Celtic Great
Rite held on Beltane when the king symbolically ‘married’ the land through
copulation with a high priestess representing the Goddess. Guinevere had
been furious when Arthur participated, but people had prospered with
plentiful crops and increased flocks and herds. White magic at its best.
So what was Morgan doing with a group who, from what Gavin could tell,
were not involved in anything destructive?
As if he had conjured her, she slipped into a chair next to him. “Not
hungry?” she asked.
The scent of her cologne was cloyingly sweet unlike the slightly spicy,
refreshing scent Chloe wore. “I guess not,” he said as he pushed the
scrambled eggs to one side and considered taking a bite of the blood
sausage. It was blackened to the point of being almost tasteless, unlike the
way it was served in Scotland. Even after all these centuries, his body could
only absorb a small amount of solid food. He forced a smile.
“You’re doing a good job with the media.”
Morgan shrugged, but somehow it came off as a slow, sensual shoulder roll.
“There’s really only a handful of die-hards guys left since no other bodies
have shown up.”
“But the die-hards are the most difficult to handle, aren’t they?”
“Perhaps,” she replied in a tone that gave Gavin the impression she had
never had a problem in handling any kind of man. She gave him a sultry
look. “I find that I like a challenge.”
“And what is your idea of a challenge?”
She ran her fingertips across his hand lightly. “You?”
Gavin lifted a brow. “You think I’m a challenge?”
Her lower lip protruded just slightly in what might almost be a pout. “You
certainly have not seemed very interested in me.”
Gavin let his gaze slide from her mouth down to her cleavage. Her clingy
tank top exposed a generous portion of her full breasts barely covering her
nipples. She leaned toward him so he had a better view and gave him a
smile. “If you are interested, I’ve been told that I’m good—very, very good,
if you get my meaning.”
He got it. He’d have to be comatose not to. Morgan was the kind of woman
that he normally would not have hesitated in taking to his bed, but he felt no
stirring. Instead, a petite waif with orange-spiked hair came to mind and for
a brief moment, he wondered how her soft body would feel under him,