TemptressofTime (27 page)

“Different times, different mores,” Adrian added as Walker
dealt the next hand.

This time Diane stayed in and won. Unwilling to pose
questions that could lead to more self-loathing, she asked Jason, “What were
you doing with all those essential oils? That night in—”

“In the folly,” he finished quickly, as if afraid she’d
reveal to Meg what they’d done. “I guess you could say I was practicing.”

Diane gave the others a quelling look. “I’m not counting
this as a question I need to win to ask. ‘Practicing’ what?”

“Jason’s one of the finest perfumers in the world.” Meg
sounded so proud she could have burst her buttons if she’d had any.

“And the last… What was that?” She remembered the coolness
of glass against her nether lips and her face heated.

Jason’s blush deepened, but he said, “That was the essence
of
you
.”

“Ohmigod! Do you do that for every client? Meg, you need to
keep this young man on a very short leash.” She tried to look stern, but her
widening smile gave her away.

“That was a…a once in a lifetime occurrence,” the young man
brazened, bristling with indignation.

Quirking a brow, Meg told him, “Just make sure it doesn’t
happen in
this
lifetime.”

“But I want to create a scent just for you,” he protested,
raising Meg’s hand to his lips, his soulful brown eyes so hot Meg fanned her
face.

“L-later. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Speaking of late,” Adrian said with a nod at the
mantelpiece clock, “late is what it’s getting. One more round, then bed?”

Meg won the very last hand, but declined to ask another
question. Smiling at each other, Jason and Meg bade the others goodnight.

Being alone with her men made Diane both uneasy and excited.
“I…I think I’ll retire as well.” She waited for them to protest. When they
didn’t, she left them. Her feelings hurt, grumbling under her breath, she made
her way to her rooms.

She finished her nightly bedtime routine and slipped into a
negligee and peignoir. Too tense to sleep, she went out on the terrace. As she
stood in the moonlight, inhaling air redolent with the scents of jasmine,
gardenias and roses, the date struck her. Two years ago today, she’d begun this
fantastic, impossible trip to her past. Now the future stretched before her—a
blank page waiting for her to write something on it. But what?

Her head hurt. Her heart ached. What if Adrian and Walker
were waiting for her to tell them what she wanted?
What a change that would
be!
What if she couldn’t humble herself and go to them—
like a beggar
—and
confess how much she loved them both? Tears threatening, she willed herself to
think of more practical matters.

Where would they live? The men had businesses to run.
Obligations and duties to fulfill as peers. She could write anywhere and had
few obligations other than delivering her next book on time. Nor had she
relatives or friends who would miss her. Her parents were still so wrapped up
in each other they barely knew others existed—even their own daughter. Given
her current situation, parental indifference suited her just fine.

Damnation!
Even that idea hurt—that her life was so
empty no one would notice if she moved to Mars. Well, her editor might wonder
but, given the number of manuscripts in her slush pile, her worrying about
Diane wouldn’t last long.

And this pity party had gone on long enough! Rejection
letters allowed an author twenty-four hours to wallow in self-pity. She had far
less time to indulge her emotions.
Emotions, crap!
She wished she’d
never started to feel things so deeply. Better yet, she wished she’d never felt
anything—ever.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

If she’d never felt compassion, the Days and their children
might have died long before they should have. If she hadn’t shared lovemaking
with Walker and Adrian, would she have learned how to compromise? If she’d
never tried to gain the upper hand, would Walker and Adrian have pursued her to
here and now? If she’d stayed in the States, would they have found the courage
to come after her?

If they hadn’t come to her, could she have found the courage
to come after them?

Footfalls heralded the men’s approach. As usual, they came
at her from two directions, halting just outside arm’s reach. Relief coupled
with disappointment, leaving her lost in her own confusion.

“Where do we go from here?” she wondered aloud as she
noticed they still wore the clothes they’d worn earlier.

“Wherever you want,” Adrian answered.

Walker nodded. “We won’t pressure you. If nothing else,
we’ve learned we can’t force you to love us.”

Diane snorted. “Love you? How can you love
me
?” Tears
stung her eyes. She willed them away, refusing to let her shame influence them
in any way.

“Are you the woman you were all those centuries ago?”
Adrian’s low voice wrapped her in warmth.

“God, I hope not!”

Walker took her hand. Her fingertips tingled. “Can you
forgive us for what we put you through?”

“Forgive you? How can you forgive me? I still don’t remember
everything about that other Diane…” She drew a shaky breath and forced herself
to say, “About me. But I remember how awful I was, playing you against each
other. Forcing you, Adrian, to send away your niece and nephews.”

Turning her head, she met Walker’s steady gaze. “And you,
Walker. Given everything you know about her—about me—how could you want to make
love with me?”

As if he’d been waiting centuries to tell her, Walker said,
“In that life my own satisfaction was all that mattered. I didn’t care about
you. Only besting Adrian. Can you forgive me for mistreating you?”

She expelled a breath she hadn’t realized she held. “Is that
all it takes? That we forgive each other?” Pulling her hand from Walker’s, she
paced a few steps away. When he said
besting Adrian
her bull-crap meter
had spiked. She’d read his love for her in his eyes on that day in the tent.
She’d heard it in his voice and words. She’d seen what he felt in his heart.

“It can’t be that easy,” she muttered.

“It’s a start.” Adrian followed her, but didn’t touch her.

The image of them holding hands and singing
Kumbaya
made her laugh. Hearing an edge of hysteria in her voice, she bit her fist.

Walker cleared his throat, waiting until she and Adrian
turned toward him. “We can’t settle nine hundred years of history in one night.
Let’s take it up again in the morning.”

This time her tears won the battle. “M-morning, s-sure.”

As one, the men surrounded her, reminding her how much she’d
missed being held. They smelled the same yet different, familiar yet strange at
the same time. Maybe her sinuses were plugged so she couldn’t smell their
arousal. Maybe they didn’t want her anymore. And yet their warmth seeped into
her like a down-filled comforter on a freezing winter morning. They sighed, the
sound that melodic blending of their voices that soothed her soul. Opening her
eyes, she looked into Walker’s and almost drowned in the love in them. His lips
brushed hers, once, twice before his tongue swept from corner to corner. He
tasted like mint and rich dark chocolate.

Adrian’s lips along her nape raised the fine hairs on her
neck and forearms. His cock pressed against her buttocks just as Walker’s
thickened against her mons.

“Are you sure…this is what you want?” she whispered, arching
her neck to welcome Adrian’s kisses. She felt him nod.

Walker cupped her face in both hands. “So long as it’s what
you want.”

“But…” She started to list all the things they needed to
decide, like where to live and… The thoughts took wing, vanishing like a falcon
riding an airstream to beyond the horizon.

“Shall we go inside?” one of them asked.

Too lost in desire, she could only nod. And hold on, one arm
around each of their necks as they lifted her. When they laid her on the bed
she discovered something new overhead.

“Tell me about the mirror,” she said, her voice breathless
as she watched them disrobe.

“Better,” Adrian said.

“We’ll show you,” Walker promised.

Laughing, she knew they had all learned yet another lesson.
Together they had found contentment.

About Dee Brice

Dee believes she was born with a pen in one hand and a
writing pad in the other. Determined not to work in an office, this wannabe
actress never learned to type well. She still composes with pen and pad, then
transcribes her manuscripts onto her computer. Sometimes Dee and her dictation
program are best friends; more often they are mortal enemies.

Dee lives in northern California with her inspiration, best
friend and husband. She loves to read and, of course, write.
Passion’s Four
Towers
, her first published novel, was nominated for a Psyche Award in 2008.
His Virtual Assassin
finaled in Passionate Ink’s 2008 Passionate Plume
contest.

Dee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website
and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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(when contacting Customer Service, be sure to state the book title and author).

Also by
Dee Brice

Courting
Kel

His
Virtual Assassin

His
Virtual Virgin

It Takes a
Thief

Passion’s
Treasures 1: Kerrie’s Quest for Passion

Passion’s
Treasures 2: Passion’s Four Towers

Passion’s
Treasures 3: Passion’s Twins

Print books by Dee Brice

Courting
Kel

Passion’s
Treasures 1: Kerrie’s Quest for Passion

Passion’s
Treasures 2: Passion’s Four Towers

Passion’s
Treasures 3: Passion’s Twins

Virtually His
anthology

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

Temptress of Time

ISBN 9781419935619

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Temptress of Time Copyright © 2012 Dee Brice

Edited by Rebecca Hill

Cover art by Dar Albert

Photos: Konrad Bak, Graham Pierce and Pyma/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication October 2012

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