Rejar (8 page)

The music began as if ordered up. Which it probably was. Lilac had no choice but to take the rakehell’s elegant hand. Before she even had a chance to summon up a particularly nasty retort to him, he effortlessly swung her onto the dance floor and into a scandalous waltz.

There was a singular warmth which enshrouded her in his arms. A heady, sizzling thing that drew on her in some unknown way, tugged on her like a living, seductive magnet. It was if the man possessed some strange ability ...

The peculiar feeling mirrored the powerful arms, which now lightly embraced her. This intoxicating essence of his seemed to envelop her; an unseen net drawing her inexorably into him. She caught a spicy scent—cinnamon and bayberry and something else, totally exotic.

It was most tempting ...

Lilac suddenly panicked. What was she thinking?

“Let me go!”

He did not release her. Those incredible eyes, now half-shielded behind heavy lids, calmly regarded her. “Why should I?”

Lilac missed a step, tripping over his boot. No man of her acquaintance would dare act in such an outrageous fashion to a request by a lady. “You, sir, are no gentleman!” she gasped out.

The corner of the Prince’s mouth lifted in some private amusement as he gracefully swung her around in an intricate step.

Lilac fumed. How arrogant! Normally she was a very graceful dancer. All right, so maybe she wasn’t. What made him think he was so adept on a dance floor?

Lilac had no way of knowing just how fleet of foot a Familiar could be.

When it became obvious the man was going to ignore her words, she counted to ten and tried again. “Prince Azov, I must insist—”

“Call me Nickolai, souk-souk.” His low voice brushed her ear, sending vibratory tingles down the side of her neck.

Who asked him to send tingles down her neck? She didn’t want them! “I will not! Who do you think—souk-souk? What is that, Russian?”

Rejar gazed intently down at her. “Do you speak Russian?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then for your purposes, it is Russian.”

What did the Prince mean by that remark? Lilac gave him a strange look. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Where I come from, a souk-souk is a soft, little animal which nips at your heels at the same time it desires your attention.”

Her eyes flashed emerald fire at him.

He laughed—a low, sexy sound of enjoyment.

Never missing a beat, he turned her in his arms. “It is quite affectionate when stroked a certain way,” he murmured teasingly in her ear.

She ground her heel into the toe of his boot.

He smiled. “And quite venomous when it isn’t,” was the whispered response.

Lilac tried to break his tight hold. The man was infuriatingly playful. “Your Highness!”

“Nickolai.”

“Very well,” she snapped, “Nickolai. I must insist you release me at—oh!” His hot hand had dropped to her waist, singeing right through the thin fabric of her dress. Whatever she had been about to say flew from her mind when the large, masculine hand brought her possessively closer to him.

Lilac blinked, not at all sure how to respond to his blatant behavior. The Prince did not react in the expected manner at all. He was extremely unpredictable.

Prince Azov’s expert move did not go unnoticed by the avid onlookers. Speculative murmurs were followed by a frenzied round of wagering. The topic of said wagering was not a fit subject for mixed company.

“I will call upon you later, souk-souk.”

Lilac stumbled again.

Did this insufferable cad actually think she would allow him to court her? “Absolutely not!”

His left hand brushed her waist; a hint of a caress. Small frissons trailed down her spine. “Mmm, souk-souk, I agree; it is a waste of time. Your societal customs are exceedingly tedious. I will come to your bedchamber tonight.”

Lilac stopped right in the middle of the dance floor.

She stood there in utter stupor, staring in horrified shock at the crude lout. The man was a barbarian!

A sharp crack snapped the air with the slap she delivered to his arrogant face.

While leaving the dance floor, she almost laughed aloud at the dumbfounded expression on the Prince’s handsome face just after her open palm had connected smartly with his cheek. Lilac patted herself on the back. By his look, she’d wager the man had never been turned down in his life! Well, it was about time someone did.

Insufferable arrogance!

Whatever made the sapskull think she would welcome his attentions? Her of all people! His stunning looks? As if that would make a difference to her! She had no use for a man in her life, and she definitely didn’t want one in her home. Men had a most nasty habit of making demands.

Lilac had no doubts whatsoever that she had seen the last of the arrogant, albeit beautiful. Prince. The thought brought immense pleasure. It could have been a close call; Auntie had raised her eyebrows—a sure sign of trouble.

Good-bye, your Highness, and good riddance!

* * *

Rejar watched Lilac storm off the dance floor and out of the room with a speculative gleam in his narrowed eyes. What was wrong with the woman? The thought that she might not be interested in him never entered the Familiar’s mind.

After all, women always wanted him.

It was not vanity on his part, but a fact of his life. And Rejar knew by his senses that this one did too. So why had she reacted to him like this?

It was ... irritating.

But not beyond repair.

The night had just begun and he fully intended to make it a long one. For her.

He immediately left the soiree, heading back to his hotel room—a room specifically chosen for his cat self to be easily accessed by a series of outside ledges and windows.

When he left the room again a few minutes later, he was stalking on four paws.

And his difficult prey had the unlikely name of a flower.

Chapter Four

Planet Aviara, Star System Tau Hydra, 5187 m.u.

Yaniff, the ancient wizard of Aviara, slowly stepped off the platform lift onto the limb of the enormous tree that his student Lorgin ta’al Krue called home. Deep in the Towering Forest, such trees were of incredible breadth and height, the flat intersecting limbs of this one forming entire levels.

Crystal chimes tinkled in the soft breeze.

In the distance, out of sight, he heard two distinct voices; one deep and coaxing, the other disbelieving—followed by the happy sound of mingled laughter. Lorgin and his wife, Adeeann.

Smiling, Yaniff reached up to his shoulder to stroke the feathers of his winged companion. “We did a good job with that one, eh, Bojo?”

The silent companion ruffled his feathers by way of answer.

“Now we enter into a most delicate time, my friend. A time of great discovery; a time of overflowing happiness and intense sorrow.” Yaniff looked off into nothing. “A time of awakenings.”

Walking down two levels, following the semicircular pathway, the old mystic stepped through tall, flowering plants into an open glen.

The sight he beheld made him chuckle.

Lorgin and his very pregnant wife were lying together in a hammock. Lorgin had just leaned over to murmur something in her ear as the palm of his hand glided lovingly over the swollen expanse of her stomach. Adeeann elbowed him smartly in the side.

“Did you not see that, Yaniff?” Lorgin laughed over to the old man. “Mayhap it is time to take her into yet another universe?” He joked. “Surely, it would improve her mood.”

“I wouldn’t be in this ‘mood’ now if you hadn’t kidnapped me from that science fiction convention in the first place.” Adeeann, nee Deana Jones, formerly of Boston, Massachusetts, shook her head in exasperation. At the best of times, her warrior knight was a handful. She smiled wickedly at the very thought.

“I do not like this face you wear.” Lorgin shook his finger at her, spoiling the effect by grinning at her.

“You might get your wish, Lorgin.” The wizard’s words stopped him cold. Lorgin’s golden head whipped toward his ancient teacher, the smile on his face instantly replaced by intense regard. “You have found him, Yaniff?”

Yaniff inclined his head. “It is so.”

Lorgin leaped off the hammock. “Where? Where is my brother?”

“Rejar?” Deana tried unsuccessfully to exit the hammock, her unwieldy bulk making it impossible. “Is he all right?”

They had all been so concerned these many months with the welfare of Lorgin’s Familiar half-brother. To finally get some news was something of a shock.

Deana made it to the edge of the hammock again, only to topple backwards toward its center.

“Is he unharmed? How does he fare? Is he—” Lorgin’s worried questions were interrupted by the sound of a grunt coming from the direction of the hammock.

“For heaven’s sake, Lorgin, get me out of here!”

Lorgin quickly went to the assistance of his wife. Yaniff hid his smile behind his hand.

“Don’t keep us in suspense any longer, Yaniff.” Standing, she tugged her caftan down over her bulky middle. “Tell us.”

“Rejar finds himself in a most unusual predicament. He is, in fact, on your world, Adeeann.”

Deana gasped. “My world? You mean he’s on ...” Her glance skittered to her husband, then back to Yaniff. She hadn’t yet let Lorgin in on the little joke she had played on him when she had first met him and he had demanded to know what planet he was on. Of course, she thought he had been joking at the time.

“... on Disney World?” She looked meaningfully at the old wizard, silently signaling him. She rather liked the idea of finally having one up on Lorgin and wasn’t about to enlighten her overconfident husband any time soon.

Yaniffs eyes twinkled with mirth. “As I say, on your world, Adeeann. But not your time.”

“What do you mean not her time?” Lorgin seemed confused and faintly worried.

“He resides within the framework of your past, Adeeann. In a place called Britain. I believe to reference it, you would say the year eighteen hundred and eleven.”

“Regency England? Why, how fantastic!” She clasped her hands to her chest as her excitement grew. “Regency England! I’ve always wanted to—I’ve never dreamed I could see—”

Her husband frowned down at her. “You are not going! It is too dangerous for the babe; I will not permit it.”

Deana snorted at the ridiculous proclamation. Number one thousand and fifty-two. “Just try and stop me.”

Lorgin threw his hands up in the air. “Does she never listen to me, Yaniff!” He turned back to his errant wife. “You are not going, Adeeann. And that is final.”

Deana waved an irrepressible hand in the air. “Pfft!”

Lorgin strutted back inside the trunk of the tree which served as their home. “No.” He threw the word at her over his shoulder.

Yaniff bent down, speaking quietly. “If you should find yourself momentarily in such a place, child, you may view—but do not be seen.” He winked at her.

Deana winked back. No way was she letting her husband traipse off to Regency England without her. No way.

“Yaniff”—Lorgin stuck his head out a window—”do you not think it odd that in all the universe Rejar should find himself on Adeeann’s world? And this time shift, as well.”

Yaniff stiffened slightly. Nothing escaped the sharp eye of this Lorgin ta’al Krue, he thought. In truth, his favorite of all students. A pity he was not the one. No, not the one; but close. Very close. Soon, Yaniff realized. Soon ...

“Yes.” Yaniff spoke no further.

“Strange ...” Lorgin donned his black cape, adjusting it about his broad shoulders; the golden symbols on the cloak marked him as a Knight of the Charl and a holder of the fourth power. “Once the line of connection was established by my link through the Tunnel, the temporal plane should have remained the same. Is that not so, Yaniff?”

“I have learned over the years never to underestimate your acuity, Lorgin. Once again you do not disappoint me. What you say is true. There are some things you will need to tell Rejar. I will explain it to you at the Hall of Tunnels before you leave.”

“Do you mind telling me what the two of you are talking about?” Deana waited impatiently, hands on hips.

Lorgin glanced briefly at Yaniff before responding to his wife. He chose his words with care. “Once the link has been established—”

“You mean like when you came to my world through that tunnel thing?”

“That is correct; the temporal plane was established as well. All other linkages would proceed from that point forward.”

“So time would go in a positive direction?” Deana wasn’t sure she was understanding this.

“Yes. Even though the Matrix is capable of time shifts, such a Tunnel can be opened only under certain circumstances. This is to ensure the integrity of the temporal continuum.”

“I see what you’re saying—so paradoxes aren’t created, right?”

“Exactly, Adeeann. All of us here in this universe link in the same plane of contemporal existence, established when the first contact or link is made with that particular planet.”

“So you are all moving forward, so to speak, together in time?”

“Yes.” Lorgin nodded. “Even though a time phasing might have occurred during the initial contact.”

“But you said the Matrix is capable of time shifts; is there a problem with Rejar being in Regency England?”

Lorgin waited a moment before he responded. “Such time jumping is prohibited by the Guild for the reasons I have mentioned. In any case, under normal circumstances, only the highest level mystic could open such a Tunnel.”

“But I thought Rejar didn’t have such abilities.”

“He does not. When he released the Shimmalee, somehow a new Tunnel opened. I vow, I do not understand it fully myself.”

“The matrix weaves a fabric guided by the hand of destiny.” Yaniff replied mysteriously.

Both Deana and Lorgin looked at the old mystic. Deana’s face showed puzzlement, Lorgin’s a wary knowledge.

Lorgin eyed the wizard obliquely. Often it was what Yaniff did not say ...

He shrugged. Perhaps it was nothing. In any case, he had other things on his mind right now. “Before I leave Aviara, I will go to my parents to apprise them of Rejar’s situation. Then I will go to this”—he threw Deana a look—”Ree Gen Cee Ing Land and bring my brother back.”