Date: 2010-11-24 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Menage; Time Travel; Vampires; Romance; Paranormal; Erotica; Paranormal Romance; M M F; Fantasy; Historical Romance
Description: To save them all they must win back one reluctant heart...again.Taylor Yates never dreamed growing up she would end up happily living with two drop-dead sexy vampires and time-hopping through their thousand years of personal history. Her life is complete...or is it? When she finds herself at the siege of Jerusalem during the first crusade, Veris doesn't know her at all and doesn't want to. Worst of all, he and Brody are total strangers, and Taylor drives a wedge in deep between them by trying to seduce Veris at their first meeting--not something a lady of the day does if she wants to keep her

Kiss Across Swords

by

Tracy Cooper-Posey

The
Kiss Across Time Series
Book II

About Kiss Across Swords

To save them all they must win back one reluctant heart…again.

Taylor Yates never dreamed growing up she would end up happily living with two drop-dead sexy vampires and time-hopping through their thousand years of personal history. Her life is complete…or is it?

When she finds herself at the siege of Jerusalem during the first crusade, Veris doesn’t know her at all and doesn’t want to. Worst of all, he and Brody are total strangers, and Taylor drives a wedge in deep between them by trying to seduce Veris at their first meeting—not something a lady of the day does if she wants to keep her head.

Taylor and Brody must woo Veris using the customs of medieval England, win his heart and his full commitment before Jerusalem falls in four days’ time—or when they return to their own time, their lives as they know them will be gone…

Praise for Kiss Across Swords

This is a story, and these are characters, that stay with the reader long after the story is finished. Kiss Across Swords speaks to the very heart of what it means to love somebody. I have to give a hearty thanks for this unforgettable tale.
Clare for Happily Ever After Reviews

Not only immensely imaginative, but incredibly ingenious – it’s an unforgettable journey.
Chris for Romance Junkies Reviews

Kiss Across Swords is a wonderfully imaginative story that will grab readers from the first page and hold them transfixed. Her ability to create a story that captures readers and characters with depth will keep me coming back for more.
Claudia for A Romance Review

She shows the reader how beautiful and seductive two men can be when they unleash their desires for each other. It’s a romance that has a number of elements, all combined to make a very captivating story. I’m looking forward to reading more in this imaginative series.
Leslie for Leslie’s Psyche

A thrilling exploration of battle, self-loathing, trust, and a soul-shaking love that time cannot erase.
Rhonda for Vampire Romance Books

Contents

| Cover | Title Page | About Kiss Across Swords | Praise for Kiss Across Swords |

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| Contents |Dedication |

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| Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten |Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen |

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Stay Up To Date | The Kiss Across Time Series | About The Author | Other Books by Tracy Cooper-Posey | Copyright Information |

Dedication

To Mark, for putting up with this compulsive obsession of mine.
This one, once more, is for you. You’ll see why.

Chapter One

Brody carefully returned his long glass of untouched champagne to the table by his side and slid cautiously around so he was diagonal to Veris and Taylor as they confronted each other. Brody’s heart was actually thudding, reacting to the tension in the room all by itself, something it hadn’t done in years.

Taylor’s smile faltered. “I thought you would be pleased,” she told Veris. “It’s what your queen wants. You implied to her it would happen in the next ten years, anyway.” She stood straight and tall, not backing down even though she could probably see Veris’ reaction wasn’t the one she had been expecting.

God, she was so gutsy. Brody admired her even as he wondered how he could stop this disaster from happening: her black hair with the unexpected copper highlights, the smoky gray eyes, the gorgeous long legs. She was damn sexy and she had just asked Veris to provide the means to bind her life to him forever and irrevocably. They were words any man with half a brain would turn cartwheels over.

“You want me to turn you for your birthday. To make you a vampire.” Veris put his champagne down and wasn’t nearly as careful with the crystal. It made a grating noise on the glass side table. He moved his shoulders inside the jacket he’d put on for their private birthday party.

Brody wished now the big, book-lined room was full of guests, for then Taylor would never have asked her question and Veris would not do what he was about to do. Instead it was simply him, Veris and Taylor standing at the south end of the room near the big, unlit fireplace. The last of the late sunset was streaming through colored lead lights in the front foyer across the twin openings on either side of the fireplace, filling the room with unearthly light.

Taylor wore a simple white sleeveless dress that stopped more than a few inches short of her knees. It probably cost a small fortune despite the lack of material in it. Her flesh glowed with health and vitality and her dress rippled with color each time she moved, from the light spilling into the room. Her legs were just wonderful. Brody never tired of watching them move.

He already knew one reason for Veris’ ill-ease. Perhaps he’d just caught a hint of one other. Taylor was ripe with living.

Brody gripped Veris’ forearm. “Don’t,” he said softly as his lover seemed to brace himself to answer Taylor.

Veris took a breath and Brody could hear the air shudder as it drew in. He yanked his arm out of Brody’s grip. His blue eyes came to bear upon him and Brody almost winced at the pain there. “I won’t, then,” he said, his voice very soft. “Not tonight, as you asked and its Taylor’s birthday. But this…” He shook his head. “I will not do it.”

“You won’t turn me,” Taylor concluded. “Despite your promise to the queen.”

Veris closed his eyes briefly. “That was four years ago. I expected, when the time came, that Brody would do the deed.”

Brody said, controlling his tone very carefully. “If Taylor wants you, Veris…”

Veris sighed and looked at Taylor. “I cannot. I will not. And do not ask Brody to do it instead of me, Taylor.”

Her lips parted, but that was all the surprise she showed.

Brody hid his shock. He’d had far longer to get used to Veris’ occasional outbursts of authoritarianism, a holdover from other ages.

Taylor slammed her glass down. “Like hell!” she said, her voice strident. “You won’t, but no one else can either? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Stay away from my bone?” She planted her hands on her hips and her knuckles whitened.

Yep, Taylor was angry now. The one thing guaranteed to switch on her fury for a good long storm was any overt attempt to tell her what to do. Veris was a master at it. He was also expert at dismantling her anger with calm, clear logic. Taylor was anything but a hypocrite and once she saw the truth, her fury fled like storm clouds and her sunny temper returned.

But Veris simply looked at Brody, his eyes haunted. “I promised I wouldn’t open this Pandora’s box tonight. You’ll have to explain the rest to her.” He left the room and Brody saw his shadow cross the wall of the foyer as he started to climb the wrought iron-lined stairs to the second floor. Veris was removing himself from the argument before it even began.

Taylor stared at the doorway Veris had used. “He’s never done that before.” She sounded almost breathless. “He’s never walked away from an argument before. Not just because you asked him to.”

“You’ve never pushed him so hard before, either,” Brody said simply.

“Pushed?” She spun to face him. “How on earth is asking to be turned pushing him? I don’t get it!” The distress in her voice was genuine, overriding any anger left in her.

Brody picked up her glass and held it out to her. “It’s still your birthday. Drink. I’ll try to explain as Veris wanted me to, but I’ll be guessing most of it.”

“You know him so well, your guesses might as well be sworn statements,” Taylor muttered. She tipped a heavy slug of the champagne back into her mouth with a little convulsive jerk.

Brody frowned. “That sounded less than happy, too.”

She shrugged and glanced away.

“You want to have an argument with me, now that Veris has gone?”

Taylor grimaced. “No,” she said and sighed.

“Then…” He frowned, as meanings shifted and became clearer. “Is that why you want Veris to turn you and not me?”

She glanced up at him, her lashes just barely lifting to reveal the dark gray of her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“To you, it does. So of course it matters to me.”

The corners of her mouth lifted just a fraction.

“You’re trying to find a way to tie him to you,” Brody told her. “For humans it’s marriage. For our kind the bond we have has no ceremony but is far more permanent. But lifetime permanency isn’t enough for you. You want the bond that comes from maker and child, as well.”

Her tiny smile died.

Brody shook his head. “It won’t work, Taylor.”

She blinked. “Why not?” Her voice was thick with unexpressed emotion.

“You can’t trap Veris. He’ll resent it. He’ll resent you. He’s spent his entire life as master of his own fate. You can’t manipulate him, you can’t handle him and you can’t out-think him.”

“I know,” she said softly, her eyes enormous as she looked up at him with a wretched expression.

“Then why on earth did you try?” He tried to keep his question gentle.

“Because you possess more of him than I ever will,” she whispered.

His breath escaped him in a hard rush. “Sweet Jesus, Taylor.”

She was just staring at him with those huge eyes. If she started crying, he knew he was going to feel like the world’s biggest piece of undead dog meat, but Taylor never turned on the tears just for effect. She would be fighting to hold them back. She hated crying in front of them, especially as neither of them could shed a tear even if they wanted to.

Brody curled his hand into a fist, fighting for calm. “I don’t possess so much as a hair on his head. I never have. He stays because he wants to.”

“Bullshit,” she said softly, hopelessly. “Nine hundred and fifteen years…nearly a thousand years, Brody. No one stays just because they haven’t got bored yet, not for that long.” She drew herself up straighter, leveling her shoulders. “You both love me, I know that. But what you feel for each other…” She shook her head. “I’ll never have that. I can’t. I haven’t been around for a thousand years and all the little flips back in time we get to do aren’t nearly enough to make up for it. They’re just glimpses. Teasing. Sometimes I wish they didn’t happen at all, because they just make me envy you for the long, long life you’ve had.” She picked up the glass again and this time her convulsive jerk emptied it.

Brody had no time to even begin to pull his mind together to formulate a response. Veris came back in the door, wearing his professor clothes. A summer-weight, silver-gray silk suit and dazzling white short-sleeved shirt that stretched over his biceps and triceps as he lifted his arms to transfer the jacket from his right hand to hang it over the back of the Craftsman chair next to the door.

“You’re leaving already? So early?” Taylor asked.

“I think it’s probably best,” Veris said. “I can beat the rush at security and settle in at the first class lounge, then get straight into writing the keynote speech as soon as the plane takes off.”

“But—” she began, then stopped. “That’s probably a good idea,” she said stiffly. “I’ll get the car brought around.”

“I’ve already done that,” Veris said. “It’s waiting for me.”

Brody hid his sigh. He knew what Veris was doing, but Taylor wouldn’t understand. Not this time. Perhaps not for a century or more.

She was staring at Veris with a bewildered, hurt look and Veris ignored it. He kissed her. It was rough, quick and hard and Brody suspected only he saw the held-back emotion. “Happy birthday, my dear sweet one,” Veris told her.

Taylor nodded. After a second she said, “Thank you.” Her voice was thick. “I hope your lecture series is a roaring success,” she added stiffly.

Veris had already turned away, toward Brody. So only Brody got to see his eyes close and his grimace. “You knew,” Veris said without looking back at her.

“That you were doing a tour of universities in Europe, not a conference? I’m not stupid, Veris. I knew within a week of you getting the invitation.” Her voice was controlled—so tightly leashed Brody knew she was fighting to hold back some emotion. Envy perhaps. Resentment. Four years ago, Taylor herself might have been the one to receive such an invitation. Or perhaps it was simply anger for Veris trying to hide this from her in the first place. Brody had warned him the conference story wouldn’t hold up with her.

Veris opened his eyes and looked at Brody. “Then its well beyond time I left,” he said, speaking to both of them. “I’ve done more than enough damage.” His big hand curled around Brody’s neck. “Take care of her.”

“Of course.”

Veris kissed him, with the same hard possessive passion he’d used on Taylor and Brody felt his heart rate elevate in response. He swallowed as Veris let him go.

Veris picked up his jacket and walked to the doorway. He paused there and glanced back. “I love you both. It makes my heart ache to leave.” He drew a breath. “Ábéodan.”

Neither he nor Taylor moved as Veris left. Nor while the front door closed. They listened as the limo tires crunched on the gravel outside. Only when there was silence once more did Brody dare look at Taylor again.

She was crying silently. Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked as she stared at the doorway Veris had used.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “He wanted to stay. I could almost feel it. I drove him away, Brody.”

Brody sighed and drew her into his arms. She came hesitantly, almost childlike in her bewilderment.

“You just have to give him time. Veris will think about things and eventually he’ll come around to it.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her tear-smeared cheeks shining in the late evening light. “I know about these moods of Veris’. You’ve told me about them before. I know how you two work. How you take breaks from each other. You just take off. A month, a year. A decade!”

Brody could see genuine fear in her face. “That’s not what’s happening now.”

“No? How do you know?” she demanded, pushing away from him. “Did he ever warn you in the past? Did you ever tell him? Or did you just have a big argument and take off after telling him you loved him, like Veris just did then?”

Cold fingers touched the heat inside his chest and made everything ripple uneasily.

“You don’t understand, do you?” she said softly. “You think you do and maybe intellectually you do, but you don’t really accept it, not in your gut.”

Brody stared at her, truly baffled. “I don’t understand you now,” he said frankly. “You and Veris have the fancy degrees. I’m just the muscle, remember?”

She gave a ghost of a smile, but there was more sadness in it than he liked. “You keep saying you like that I’m human, but you fail to make allowances for that fact. You and Veris can argue and go off and brood for a few decades, but I can’t. I don’t have a few decades to spare and you keep forgetting that.”

That’s not true. The hot denial pushed at his lips but he held it back, because she was right. He did keep forgetting. Taylor was so much a part of them, even her human aspects had blended into the tapestry of their lives, to the point where they overlooked them and took them for granted.

“You need to feed,” Taylor said flatly, stringing her fingers together, her eyes narrowing as she ran her gaze over his face. “You’re too pale.”

Shock could force him to feed early, and he was being handed a series of shocks here. Brody pushed his hand through his hair, then twisted it to one side and back over his shoulder. “I had better go and take care of it, then,” he said and stretched his shoulders and back as he felt the tension there.

Taylor held out her hand, palm up and out toward him. “You…could feed from me,” she said softly. “If you want to.”

In the four years Taylor had been with them, she had made the offer only once before. Both Veris and Brody bit her when they were in bed, often, but never to feed. The one feeding had been a disaster. Veris had never told Brody what had gone wrong. Neither had Taylor.

Brody shook his head. “I appreciate the offer. But you want a teddy bear, not a predator and you’ve been drinking. The alcohol in your blood would hit me like a depth charge. The results would be…” He tried to find a word that wouldn’t totally unnerve her. “Unpredictable,” he finished.

She chewed her upper lip.

“I’ll come home tonight,” he told her, relenting.

Relief touched her features. “That would be nice if you could,” she said softly. “But I know you have to roam far these days, so don’t promise anything.”

Brody dug in his pocket for the keys to his own car, the one he used when he needed to get around incognito, fast and quietly. The unremarkable black Mustang was parked out the back of the house.

Taylor was back to chewing her lip.

He touched his finger to it. “Stop that. Drink your champagne and eat something. I’ll make this quick and dirty and I’ll be home before you know it.”

She nodded. But her goddamn beautiful eyes were luminous with more unshed tears. Brody kissed her. Despite the chill of the champagne and the salt of her tears he could taste the sweetness of her lips still. Despite four years he still hadn’t decided what the taste was. It had been too long since he’d eaten real food and memory was a poor substitute.

He could feel his uppers trying to descend at the smell of her and the beat of her pulse so close by. She had been right. He needed to feed and soon.

“I must go,” he said, pulling himself away. As he hurried out the door, he dared to glimpse back.

Taylor had dropped into the Craftsman chair, her knees together and her lower legs askew like a junior high school girl’s. Her head was in her hands. If she wasn’t crying, she was about to, or struggling not to.

Brody dug his nails into his palms and forced himself to keep walking away. He would be no use to her if he went near her. Not in this state. He would terrify her and be a danger to her.

Taylor would have a hard time understanding that tonight she was better off alone, even on her birthday, but it was cold hard fact.

The truth gave Brody no comfort either.

Chapter Two

Taylor stared at the doctor. It suddenly felt like the old wooden floor of the big office was actually heaving like the deck of a ship. She clutched the arms of her chair. “Excuse me?” she said. Her lips felt thick and uncooperative. “I don’t think I caught that last part.”

“Which part?” the doctor asked, with a small frown, flipping back a page in Taylor’s folder.

“The part about the p-p-regnancy.” She rubbed her forehead. “That was what you meant about gestation, right?”

Dr. Edward Cruz frowned again, more heavily this time, making his handsome face look suddenly older. “That is what most physicians mean by the term, I believe.” He looked at the page again. “The blood work confirms your pregnancy.” He smiled at her, flashing very white teeth. “They’re very accurate tests these days.”

Her hand began to shake. “That’s…not possible.”

“You’re not using birth control,” he pointed out, actually tapping the file with his pen. It made the heavy gold Rolex on his wrist flash in the sun streaming through the windows. “Unless you’re consulting with another family physician?” Offense thickened his tone. “I cannot treat you properly if I don’t have the full facts of your medical history, you know.”

Taylor plastered a small smile on her face. “I had no need for contraception. My partner—” She just managed to make herself stop at the singular term. “My partner is unable to father children. We had accepted it would not happen for us.”

Dr. Cruz smiled himself. It was also a small smile. “Then I guess this is a day for celebration for you, isn’t it?”

She let herself fall back against the backrest of the vinyl patient’s chair, staring at him. No words would come to her. Nothing encompassed this.

“How pregnant am I?” she asked at last.

Cruz looked mildly vexed. “When was your last menstruation?” he asked.

Taylor blinked. She barely kept track of such matters anymore. After some deep thought, she came up with a date. Cruz glanced at a calendar and tapped his way through the weeks. “If you are right about the date, at a very rough guess I would say about five and a half weeks. But until we do an ultra-sound scan, it’s an approximation.” He turned the page on her annual physical, clearly ready to move on.

“Why haven’t I had any symptoms?” she asked. “Morning sickness? All that stuff? Women I’ve known who have been pregnant told me they knew the moment they got pregnant.”

This time his frustration was more than evident. He dropped his pen to the desk. “Probably because they were trying to become pregnant and they were looking for symptoms. You’ve possibly overlooked the symptoms or completely disregarded them, or mistaken them for something else. Or else you’re one of those lucky women who will sail through their pregnancy with very few symptoms at all. Shall we move on?”

She leaned forward. “Are you kidding? You drop a bomb like pregnancy on me and expect me to change subjects and move on? I want to know what happens now. Where I go next. Options. Details.”

Cruz blew out his breath. “We can schedule another appointment at another time to discuss your condition. Right now, we’re here to discuss the results of your annual physical checkup.” He tapped the file.

“Where you discovered I was pregnant, a condition of my physical health. So let’s discuss it,” Taylor insisted.

Cruz glanced at his watch. “Prenatal consultations are not included in the fee for an annual physical consultation. You’ll have to reschedule for that.”

Taylor felt her jaw sag and snapped her teeth together. “You have somewhere else to be that is so important, Doctor?”

He sat back and threw his pen down. He smoothed his hair back with a vexed, controlled movement. “As a matter of fact, I do, Ms. Yates.” He seemed to be barely holding in his ire. “My wife is in the hospital right at this moment undergoing radiation treatment for a malignant astrocytoma. I would like to be there at least before the end of her treatment session, as I’m already too late for the beginning of the session.”

Taylor wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “A malignant…” she began. She had no idea what the term meant, but “malignant” sounded very bad. Her cheeks were heating.

“A brain tumor,” he interpreted dryly, completing her humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor said. She had no idea what else to say. Anything else she might add would be inadequate.

“Accepted,” he said flatly. He closed her file and gave her a dry smile. “Perhaps we should finish this up another day?”

“I think that would be acceptable,” Taylor agreed with a sigh of relief. She picked up her bag from the floor beside her. Suddenly, the idea of finding somewhere far from here, a spot out of the way where she could sit and think about this enormous news, alone and uninterrupted, seemed like a great idea. She couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything else.

“Do book that prenatal consult, too,” he finished, standing up.

“I will.” She hurried out the door, feeling about three feet shorter than when she walked in. Shorter and fatter.

Pregnant. How had that happened?

Twenty minutes later, Taylor had her answer.

She had only been able to walk as far as the nearest Starbucks. Dazed, still unable to cope with the reality of a baby, she had sought the shelter of the dark green umbrellas on the patio in front of the store. They provided relief from the heat of the day, along with a tall cold green tea lemonade. There she found her answers from within her diary.

Five and a half weeks ago, Veris and she had travelled back to fifth century Norway again. She had been there once before with Veris, four years ago.

The day Taylor had met Brody and Veris, she had slipped back very briefly to the time when Veris had left Norway to sail to Britain. That was the last time he had ever seen his homeland before it had become Norway.

This occasion, five and a half weeks ago, they had travelled back to when he had been a few years younger. Taylor stared at the simple paragraph she had written that covered the day and glorious night she had spent with Veris in the kingdom where he had grown up and become a man and warrior.

Mid fifth-century. Veris says 462 as he remembers it. What would become Norway, but was a land of petty kings. I met his sister Marit, who is a fellow conspirator, just like Veris. And I met the king, thanks to Marit. We danced and drank in the king’s hall.

There was so much she had left out of that paragraph! Taylor sipped her iced tea, tasting lemonade and the slightly dusty taste of green tea, remembering how the time trip had begun.

Veris had simply kissed her as she had been passing on her way to the stairs to the upper floor of the big main room, to get at the rare books kept up there. Veris rarely missed an opportunity to kiss her if she moved within a few feet of him. Sometimes the kisses were absent-minded. Sometimes they were full-hearted, let’s-fuck-now type kisses. This had been another type. A hello-you-look-edible kiss that had some intent behind it, but as she had an armful of books, he wasn’t going to push it that hard, especially as he and Brody had both brought her to a screaming, mindless orgasm barely three hours before, pinned between them, their tongues dancing across her breasts and genitals.

His big hands slid under her jaw, holding her face steady so that his lips could meet hers squarely and his fangs wouldn’t tear her mouth. They had learned quickly that her flesh was far more delicate than theirs, even with their own mouths shielding their teeth. The vampire teeth, designed precisely for puncturing human flesh, could tear into Taylor’s with uncanny ease.

Taylor kept still, letting Veris kiss her. It wasn’t such a hardship, after all. That was the last time she remembered about holding books in her arms that day.

The smell of pine became almost overpowering. Up near the ceiling, a ticking noise began. Something ruffled her hair.

Taylor opened her eyes, knowing it had happened again. She looked around first with just her eyes. A deeply-shaded forest. Massively tall pine trees.

Then it had to be the wind ruffling her hair. From the feel of it, her hair was down to somewhere near her waist and loose. It must be held back in some way she couldn’t tell just yet.

She studied Veris cautiously as he stood with his hands loosely against her jaw. He was watching her, his gaze roaming over her face. Assessing. He held up his hand, the four fingers split two aside in the famous Vulcan greeting. “I’m not wearing a red shirt.”

Taylor blew out her breath. It was the pre-arranged signal all three of them had set up for these unexpected time-jumps, to let each other know the modern counterpart of themselves inhabited the body of the younger version. If the signal didn’t come, it was sometimes possible to force the modern consciousness there by kissing them, or other emotion-rousing actions.

“Then you’ll live long and prosper,” she murmured, which was the response to let him know she was aware. But for her it was an academic matter, for Taylor could only be herself in the past as she had never been here before, while Veris and Brody had lived through these times once already.

They had learned, though, never to take things for granted on these flips back in time. They went through the motions of cue and response, just in case.

Veris stepped back and looked around. “This place feels familiar.”

“You look…different,” Taylor said. “Wow.” She ran her gaze up and down his long length. He really did look longer, she realized. This version of Veris was younger. Younger. She let that novel idea sink in for a moment. She had never seen Veris look anything other than the timeless age he had always looked. Somewhere between late thirties and early forties, depending on his mood, his clothes and his situation. And sometimes, he looked older than God, when the weight of the centuries he had experienced seemed to weigh him down.

Right now, he looked somewhere in his late twenties. Perhaps. He wasn’t carrying as much muscle, which was why he looked taller.

He wore simple trousers and a white shirt—with sleeves, for once. And boots, with laces that crossed over the calves and up to the knee.

Saxon, Taylor’s trained mind automatically catalogued.

“You look like how the girls dressed in the village where I grew up,” Veris said. “I wonder…” He looked around. “Someone’s coming.” His hand fell to his hip. There was a dagger there, well hidden in the belt.

Now Taylor could hear the soft footfalls, far off. Running.

Veris pulled her around the tree and put her back to it. He pressed against her and glanced around the trunk. He drew out the knife and shook his head a little, as if he were vexed about something. Frowning heavily, he watched for the newcomer.

The footsteps pattered closer. Then the swish of garments became clearer.

“Väinä?” It was a woman’s voice. Young and soft.

Veris drew in a sharp, hissing breath. Shock. He stepped around the tree. “Marit.”

Taylor straightened up from the bite of the tree bark. Even through the thick swathe of hair at her back, it stuck into her spine. She watched Veris step back out onto the wide, sandy path and turn to face the newcomer, whom she could not yet see. Veris’ face was painted with shock.

“I couldn’t believe the boy when he said it was you,” Marit said. “He swore, though, that you were back and waiting. I had to come to find out if it was true.” Her voice shook. “Fifteen years, Väinämöinen. I don’t think he’s forgiven you even now.”

Veris took a deep breath and held his hand out to Taylor. She stepped out from the tree and turned to face the speaker.

The woman’s mouth opened. Her eyes widened.

Taylor stared at her. Marit was just like Veris. Tall, blonde but slender like a willow. She had a determined jaw and blue, blue eyes. Fair skin and straight shoulders that looked like they could take on the world. She glanced from Taylor to Veris. “I might have known you would find the most beautiful woman in the world. This is your wife, yes?”

“This is Tyra. My wife,” Veris confirmed. “She speaks our language, too. Tyra, this is my sister, Marit.”

Marit stepped forward and lifted her hand up toward Taylor’s face. “Your face. It glows. I have never seen skin so soft.” She stopped her hand short of Taylor’s face and stepped back with an embarrassed laugh. “Forgive me. You must experience that all the time.”

Taylor smiled. “No, but you’re forgiven for saying such kindly things.”

Marit gripped Veris’ arm as an idea struck her. “Let me introduce her to the king, brother! Please! He would be delighted by her.”

“The king?” Veris repeated.

Marit laughed. “There have been changes since you ran away, Väinä. I am head lady in waiting to the queen now. The king likes me, which means all goes well in our family. We are favored in the village because of the politics I play at court.”

“You’re not married yourself?” Veris asked politely.

“Not when competition for my hand gives me such leverage over others,” Marit replied bluntly.

“You don’t find that…lonely?” Taylor asked.

Marit’s smile was slow and wicked. “I only said I remained unmarried, that is all.”

“I see,” Taylor replied diplomatically.

“That is another kind of leverage altogether,” Marit added.

Taylor leaned toward Veris. “She’s just like you.”

Veris laughed loudly.

“May I bring Tyra before the king, brother?” Marit asked. “Please? There is a dinner tonight. It would be perfect.”

Veris sobered. “We may not be able to stay that long. I mean, I will be here for another three days, I think, but Tyra may have to go rather suddenly.”

Marit’s sunny expression fled. “You don’t have to fear Father, Väinä. He’s too ill now to do more than step outside the cot to relieve himself. He would not touch a hair on Tyra’s head.”

Veris glanced at Taylor. “You misunderstand me—”

“Do I?” Her tone was dry. “I live in my own cot now. The queen gave it to me when I entered service with her.”

Veris’ breath was quickening with genuine, human emotion. What was going on here? Taylor could see he wasn’t going to ask the obvious question, so she did. “When did you enter service with the queen, Marit?”

“The night Väinä left the village,” Marit said softly. “The night he was forced to leave because he’d broken the law by laying hands on his own father. He beat him nearly to death because my father was interfering with me. You know, that way.” Marit’s gaze slid to meet Taylor’s eyes.

Taylor swallowed as her mouth seemed to suddenly lose all its spit and her heart flip-flopped. “Yes,” she breathed.

Veris cleared his throat. “It’s in the past,” he said sharply. “But it also means we can’t roam the village freely. If I am recognized—”

“They won’t recognize you,” Marit said instantly. “You’re three hand spans taller and twice as wide in the shoulders. You have strength now you never had then. You’ve let your hair grow. And you’re wearing mainland clothes. With Tyra by your side stealing all the attention, no one will pay the slightest bit of notice to you, Väinä. Give yourself a different name and you’ll be virtually invisible.”

“Call him Veris, then,” Taylor suggested.

“Very foreign sounding,” Marit said. “Almost Roman. But it does seem to suit him.”

Veris grinned.

Taylor held up her hand. “I have an objection, though. I don’t have anything to wear nearly suitable enough for a king’s court.”

Marit ran her gaze over Taylor’s breasts and hips. “I do, though. Come with me. Come along.” She turned and strode back along the trail, her dress and cloak fluttering in the moist breeze moving through the thick shade.

Taylor glanced at Veris. “Now what?” she said softly, forcing herself to use English and whispering behind Marit’s back as they followed.

“This is my sister,” Veris replied just as quietly. “This hasn’t happened in over four years of jumping. Let’s play it out.”

“And what if we jump back in the middle of the party tonight? Your younger version will go on with his memories intact and wonder why he’s in the king’s hall. He’ll be okay. But I’ll suddenly poof out of existence right there in front of the king. Or so we’ve theorized and so you guys have remembered it. I don’t exist in these times. You do.”

Veris shrugged. “For right now, I don’t care,” he said. “I’ll let my younger self deal with the crap and the fallout.”

“That’s not nice,” Taylor chided.

“Why? A night in the king’s court, good food, wine and music. He’ll wonder how he got there and he’ll have a headache in the morning. He’ll be fine.”

“Why will he have a headache?” Taylor asked suspiciously.

“Ah, as to that…” Veris reached to his hip and pulled out the dagger once more. He flipped it in midair and caught it with a quick midair snatch and nodded. “That confirms it,” he muttered.

“Confirms what?”

“It confirms it for me, but you’ll want visual proof. You always do. Look.” He held up his left hand and ran the point of the blade over the pad of his thumb. The small wound began to bleed. “Oh, fuck, that hurts,” Veris muttered. “I’d forgotten pain.”

Taylor caught her breath, staring at the little nick. It was still bleeding. Still open.

“You’re human,” she breathed.

He nodded. “I wasn’t made until about ten years from now,” he said softy. “Not long before I left for Britain.”

Taylor caught his arm. “Food. Drink…” She smiled up at him. “No wonder you don’t care what happens tomorrow.”

Veris grinned. “Not just food and drink, Tyra my love. I intend to savor you from the tips of your toes to the ends of your fingernails and every inch in between. If we have time, I’ll do it over and over again. Then I’m going to sit with Marit and share a cup of wine and tell her how proud I am of her and…”

He stopped walking. Taylor turned to him, concerned, for he was staring at his boots.

Marit turned back as they faltered. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’m happy,” Veris explained, switching back to the Norse of his childhood. He lifted his head, revealing eyes that glittered with tears. He shifted his shoulders, clearly embarrassed. “So why am I crying?”

Marit laughed and began hurrying down the path again. “Men!” she said, as if that explained everything.

Taylor stretched up to hug Veris. “You cry when you’re happy,” she said softly in English. “Don’t you remember that?”

“I never did,” he said harshly.

“Well, maybe you’ve grown up a bit.”

“Maybe I was never happy,” he said grimly. He kissed her cheek and lowered her to the ground. “Let’s go and see the king.”

Chapter Three

King Herleifr was elderly. He looked nearly seventy, so Taylor scaled his age to somewhere around the mid or late fifties for this era. Perhaps a bit younger, if disease had been unkind to him. But he was hearty for his age and there was nothing wrong with his mind.

With Queen Ingvild’s permission, Marit presented Taylor to the King as a cousin from a neighboring kingdom. As an afterthought, Marit present Tyra’s husband, Veris, who bowed from his position at the back of the big fire burning in the center of the room.

Herleifr nodded at Veris before turning his gaze back upon Taylor. “Most remarkable,” he murmured. He glanced at his wife, who sat upon the much smaller throne several steps down below the tier his grand chair was placed upon. “Have you ever seen such beauty before?”

Taylor glanced at Marit, who was smiling with a self-satisfied expression, standing next to the queen. She had predicted this. She had also warned Taylor not to argue with the king. Taylor could feel the need to explain pushing at her lips and gritted her teeth.

How could she tactfully tell these people that where she came from she was considered quite average? That her height and bone structure were the result of generations of genetic adaptation and selection for “attractiveness” over “breeding stock” that had been a luxury that mankind had enjoyed for the last two hundred years?

Or that it was the benefit of clean water, healthy diets and modern chemicals that made her skin look like it did?

But she couldn’t explain any of it. So Taylor stayed silent. She found herself gripping the edges of the cloak Marit had draped about her shoulders as the finishing touches to her court dress, her palms abruptly sweaty.

The cloak was made of a material more finely woven than any of the rough garments she had seen today, as they had walked through the cluster of fifty or so round huts, stables and animal shelters that made up the tiny town clustering thickly up against the stout walls of the king’s hall.

The hall itself was surprisingly stately. It was made of massive, well-hewn and crafted local trees and built to withstand just about anything but fire. With roots tapping the rock shelf it was built upon and branches running back into the mountain it perched upon, the king’s hall was a fine fortress that had stood for five generations and continued to grow with each succeeding generation.

Tonight the giant oak doors stood open to guests and lights blazed from the unglazed windows. The king was entertaining.

The dress Taylor wore to honor the King and his guests was clearly expensive and one of Marit’s best. The underdress was white and there was not a lot of material to spare around her breasts. It clung to her until it reached her hips, giving her enough room to walk—and dance, Marit had explained. It was about four inches longer at the back than the front, forming a simple train and had long sleeves and a simple round neck with beautiful white embroidery.

Over the top of the underdress Taylor wore a deep blue apron dress. It had straps going over each shoulder like a sundress, that fastened with two blue jewels just above each breast. Hanging between each jewel were two chains, one longer than the other. Swinging from the longer chain was a small bronze pendant of a dragon. The apron dress was also form-fitting and surprisingly flattering, especially when Marit fastened a thick leather belt around Taylor’s waist, pulling it in firmly. There was a small leather pouch hanging from the belt from two short tabs. A third loop hung empty.

“That’s for your dagger,” Marit said as if it was obvious, when Taylor fingered the loop.

Taylor held back from saying she was left-handed. It was possible left-handedness was a sign of the devil here.

The cloak was the final layer—a soft wool that seemed to be cool or warm just as Taylor needed it to be. It didn’t scratch at all, which she expected it to. It was long, as long as the white underdress.

Marit had left Taylor’s hair alone. “I can’t improve upon it,” she said simply.

Now the king pushed himself out of his chair and stepped down onto the broad step Taylor stood upon. He was only as tall as she was and wore no crown. But his tunic was white and embroidered at the neck and his boots were whole and clean. He wore a short cloak around his shoulders and there were matching gems where a chain held it together at the neck. Short fur edged it.

The king studied her closely. “There is no artifice about your beauty,” he said shortly. “It is quite natural. How lovely.” He sighed. “Marit teases me with possibilities that are quite beyond my reach.”

He held out his hand to her.

Startled, Taylor looked toward Marit. Now what?

Marit was smiling. She was enjoying Taylor’s discomposure. When she saw Taylor’s glance in her direction, she lifted her hand upward. Take his hand, she seemed to be saying.

Taylor hesitantly took the king’s offered hand. The man’s grip was firm despite his apparent frailty. She glanced over her shoulder, back toward Veris.

“Ah, you are right,” the king murmured. “You should ask your husband’s permission first. Go ahead.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Taylor said. “I am unaccustomed to your ways here. I am not even sure what it is I seek permission for from my husband.”

“Why, to accompany me to the table and after, to dance. That is all. I am long past the age where anything more is required of you. You may even sit next to your husband during the meal as I have political guests to entertain tonight and they will not speak in your presence.” He nodded toward a group of dour warriors standing off to one side, their arms crossed over their chests, wearing beards and swords and shaggy hair. “I must keep them entertained and woo them so that my borders are safe, you understand?” he said softly, so his voice did not carry.

“Perfectly,” she said just as softly. “But wouldn’t more womanly charms put them at their ease…soften them up for you?”

He laughed. “You are a delight! Alas, those tough old war dogs are moved by nothing less than money or power. The softer charms ceased to touch their souls a long time ago. They’ll have to reckon with the gods when they reach Valhalla for such an oversight, I’m thinking. The gods didn’t place the gentler arts on the earth only to have them ignored. Come, let us lead this kingdom of mine to dinner and let them gorge. I look forward to dancing with you, Tyra of the godlike beauty. You are a breath of fresh air.”

“Thank you, Highness.”

He turned her and led her down the steps. “Your husband’s name is…Veris, yes?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“He is not a native of your kingdom, is he?” Herleifr said as they swept past the surly visitors and on down the broad steps to the round room at the foot.

“No, he was not born there,” Taylor said.

The room was filled with people standing and watching their king greet and escort her to the dining tables. In the middle of the large rounded area was a huge fire pit. Kitchen staff were busy preparing last minute dishes over the edges of the fire.

As the king walked Taylor across the floor, the crowd made way silently, letting them through.

On the other side of the room, long tables and benches had been set up and the meal was being laid out as the king approached.

Veris stood waiting just before the tables. Taylor could see wariness in his eyes, even though he was wearing an affable, pleasant expression for everyone else. His hand was resting on the pommel of the sword strapped to his hip. It looked casual. She knew otherwise.

He had changed from the foreign-looking European clothes to more local garments, so that he could blend in. Now he looked like someone who belonged here. She corrected the impression in her mind. Veris looked like he might have looked in the real past, before he left. He wore boots, pants and an embroidered tunic over an under tunic. From the thick leather belt hung a leather money pouch. His sword belt crossed over it. Because he was in the king’s court, he’d left off the chain mail and other armor and accoutrements a warrior would normally wear. But he had wide leather cuffs on each wrist and a bronze torc about his neck.

Taylor’s heart skipped a beat. This was Veris in his native element. Väinä at home.

She found herself smiling at him. She couldn’t help it.

“Then it truly is a love match,” the king said. “That expression on your face says more than the best storyteller in the world could ever explain.”

Taylor jerked her gaze away from Veris and back to the king. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I wasn’t paying attention to you.”

The king smiled. “There is nothing to forgive, child,” he said. “For see? We are already at our destination.” He lifted her hand and placed it in Veris’.

“Thank you, Highness,” Veris said.

“Your wife is lovely beyond compare. You’re aware of that, I can tell by the way your hand hovers by your sword,” Herleifr said softly. “Or is it, rather, your discomfort in being back in this hall once more, Väinämöinen?”

Veris grew still, his gaze locked with the king’s.

“I am old,” the king said, still speaking softly. “But not old enough to forget faces, even though both fifteen years and the lad have gone and now a man stands in his place.”

Taylor stepped in front of Veris and faced the king. “My lord—” she said, also keeping her voice down.

“No, Tyra,” Veris protested and thrust her aside.

The king held up his hand. It was meant as a signal for peace, but the heel of his hand thumped into Veris’ chest. There was a collective gasp of surprise around them.

The king thrust his foot backward, trying to push Veris back. “Stop, you fool,” he hissed. “Do you really want to die tonight?”

“Veris, for heaven’s sake, please, think it through,” Taylor pleaded, tugging on his arm as he stood over the king. He was thrumming with tension. Had he forgotten he was mortal right now and surrounded by men wielding swords, men that were loyal to the king? Quite likely, yes.

“No one will come to my aid until I ask for it,” the king added. “Such is my reputation. To them I am utterly strong, invincible and need assistance from no man unless I choose it. At the moment, they simply watch me deal with you, believing only that you are angry because I desire your wife. It can remain that way…Veris. But if you insist on taking this path then it will no longer be a small matter of pride over a woman. Do you understand?”

After a moment Veris stepped back from the king. He was shaking.

Taylor realized she was, too.

Herleifr straightened his sleeves. “My queen dotes upon Marit. She is the daughter my wife never had. Marit would not be the woman she is today if someone had not intervened in her life fifteen years ago and changed her fortunes. Because my queen is grateful for that blessing, I am grateful.” He adjusted his cloak. “Enjoy your supper.” He walked away with a swirl of cloth.

Taylor threw her arms around Veris’ neck and clung to him, despite their public location. She was trembling badly enough that she had to clamp her jaws together to stop her teeth from chattering.

Veris’ lips pressed against the nape of her neck, then slid up to her ear. “I could have cheerfully killed the bastard for touching you. God, Taylor, I’m so full of emotions, I’m almost drunk with them.”

Taylor dropped back to her feet and tugged on his wrist. “Come and eat,” she said. “Come on. You need food and drink, and you need to relax. Your body is a chemical factory now. You’re not use to it anymore. Every emotional reaction you have is also a chemical reaction inside you. You’re chewing up juices and your metabolism probably just dropped dead over this.” She pushed him toward the table.

“I know that.” He frowned. “I know that,” he said softly, wondering. “Basic biology.”

“Dry academics,” she whispered back. “You learned it in a book. Long after you were made and long after you’d forgotten what it was like to be human.” She found a space at one of the long tables and pointed to it. “Will this do, my husband?” she said more loudly.

Some of the men at the table looked at Veris with alarm.

Veris sat down in the empty space and looked at the man closest to him. “Make room for my wife.”

The man shuffled over, making more than plenty of space for Taylor. Taylor sat down with a nod of thanks.

Veris picked up the cup of wine placed in front of him and stared at the golden liquid inside.

Taylor picked up her cup and touched it to Veris’. “To your good health, my husband.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he muttered and brought the cup to his lips and slowly drank a mouthful.

The mead tasted watery yet strong to Taylor’s westernized and retail-and commercially-packed-food-trained palette. She waited for Veris to swallow. He lowered the cup to the table and looked at her. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought I had forgotten, but I find it’s all coming back. Like riding a bicycle.”

He turned to his plate eagerly.

* * * * *

There was no formal beginning to the music and dancing. It seemed that as soon as bellies began to fill, minds turned to other distractions. The first hint of entertainment was the thrumming of a drumbeat far in the background, as the diners were nearing the end of the long meal. Despite the plain, well-cooked fare, these people ate with gusto. The drumbeat in the background barely checked their enthusiastic chomping.

Then a pipe joined it in a merry tune as they nodded their heads or tapped their feet. A low horn came next.

Abruptly, a man sprang to his feet, a cup of mead in hand, to the cheers and calls of those around him. He grabbed the arm of a woman nearby and hauled her to her feet. He spun her in a series of looping, somewhat graceful circles that seemed to be more or less in time with the beat of the music. Everyone else clapped along with him, while the music settled down into a distinct dance tune.

Other couples joined him around the fire.

Veris grasped Taylor’s hand. “This, I’ve always known how to do.” He climbed from the bench and tugged on her arm. His face was flushed from the wine and food.

“You?” Taylor said, amazed. It was always Brody who danced with her. Veris occasionally partnered her when there was a Viennese waltz because he loved the graceful rhythm, but that was about all. She looked at the energetic swooping and whirling happening next to the fire with amazement. “Are you sure?” she asked Veris.

He picked her up around the waist and lifted her off the bench. “Stop arguing, woman.”

Taylor found herself laughing as he swept her into the rush of bodies swirling and tapping out the beat with their feet against the floorboards and their hands. Veris laughed, too. It was infectious.

She realized they weren’t the only ones laughing and smiling. Under the beat and sound of the music and the rap of the dancers’ feet on the floor she could hear everyone—dancers and the audience watching them—laughing, calling to each other, shouting encouragement and rude observations about each other which generated further laughter and comments. The mead and wine pitchers were being passed around with even more frequency now that the meal had all but finished.

Everyone knew everyone, despite the large number of people in the hall. It made for ease and familiarity. As two of the handful of strangers there, word had quickly passed as to Taylor and Veris’ public identities. Their acceptance had been smoothed by the king leading Taylor to dinner.

Now they were tacitly part of the village, even if the men were careful to give Veris plenty of elbow room and not jostle him even accidentally.

Between dances, they rested. Veris got his long conversation with Marit during one of them, when his sister settled on the bench beside him and the two sat with their heads almost together and drained a pot of mead between them, oblivious to the people around them.

Veris emerged from that conversation looking both grim and happy at once. But there was a contented air about him and Taylor knew Marit had impressed him—a difficult thing to do with Veris.

It was during one such rest, when Veris was studying Taylor with a brooding look in his eyes she knew well, that made her body warm and her nipples harden against the underdress, that the king appeared in front of them both, looking for his appointed dance with Taylor.

Veris’ jaw rippled as he reached for the mug of mead he had just drained and called for the pot boy. “Of course, my lord,” he told the king. “I am honored.”

Herleifr grinned, the wrinkles at the corners of his very pale blue eyes coming together. “I’m sure,” he said, holding his hand out to Taylor.

Taylor glanced at Veris. “Veris?”

“Go,” he said roughly, concentrating on the mead in his mug. “I’m fine.”

She sighed and let the king take her hand and pull her into the ring of dancers around the fire. Veris turned away, his profile to the fire, which bothered her.

Herleifr was a sedate dancer, using none of the lifting and tossing the younger dancers were doing to show off their vitality and strength. But he kept up with the beat and Taylor had already learned the quick steps and routines, so the vigorous dance left her mind free to worry over Veris’ mood. He wasn’t really jealous of the king, was he?

She glanced toward Veris again when she could and saw that he was watching when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Then he was jealous…or something like it. Taylor knew she couldn’t deal with it until Herleifr released her and let her return to Veris. Meantime, she had to entertain the king.

A few minutes later, much to Taylor’s deep relief, the musicians decided they needed a rest from their labors and put down their instruments. There was a lot of loud complaints and good natured booing. But the dancers returned to their seats to grab drinks, gulp down water and talk to their friends.

The king nodded his head at Taylor. “My thanks, Tyra, but I must return to the dour company I am forced to keep this night.”

“Thank you, my lord, for the dance.”

“You’re a diplomat. I can see why Marit enjoys your company so much. It has been a pleasure meeting you.” The King walked away with a nod to others as he skirted the fire, heading back to the small table sitting on the top tier by his big throne, where the big men sat with impatient scowls.

Taylor turned away, intending to hurry back to Veris.

His space on the bench was empty.

Her heart actually thudded against the inside of her chest, so hard did it leap in fright. She looked around frantically. He was nowhere in sight.

She looked for Marit. Perhaps he had sought his sister out, while waiting for Taylor to finish her dance with the king. But Marit was not in the main hall either. She was not sitting at the top tables with the king and queen and their exalted company. Nor could Taylor spot her long figure amongst the crowd on the main floor.

Taylor tried to keep her panic under control. There were a number of reasons why Veris wouldn’t be in the room, all of them perfect simple. She walked to the tier steps and climbed the first three, which gave her a higher perspective of the room. Then she began to quarter the big hall systematically, looking for Veris among the constantly shifting crowd. It would surely be simple to find him. He was a distinctive figure.

Taylor finally located Marit and realized why she had not noticed her at first. Marit was backed into a dark corner created by a thick wooden pillar and the body of a handsome man who pressed against her. His body was a tight bow and his hand, where it rested flat against the wall by Marit’s head, was braced with tension. He quivered as his lips hovered near the delicate flesh of her neck.

Marit’s mouth parted as she perhaps breathed in the man’s desperation. Then she saw Taylor watching her and she gave a small smile. Her hand lifted in a tiny wave. Acknowledgment.

Taylor smiled back. There was no mistaking who was in control, there. She turned away, giving them privacy. Instead, she looked one last time for Veris. She would have to consider what else to do now. Then she saw him.

Veris stood on the far side of the tables by the big entrance doors. He must have left for a moment or two and just stepped in. He had been watching her. He stood as he often did, with his feet apart and his arms crossed. He’d pushed the sleeves of the tunic up his arms, so that the already-building muscles of this younger Veris swelled by the positioning of his forearms.

Taylor’s heart lifted. Conversation around her faded. She found herself smiling at Veris again. Her feet in their felt slippers stepped back down the stairs and found a way through and around the people as she watched Veris studying her with his brooding, sensual gaze. She walked right up to him and Veris’ big hand settled on the back of her waist, hot and heavy. She shivered.

“Come with me,” he told her.

* * * * *

Veris threw a tied, heavy bundle over his shoulder and took Taylor’s hand. “There are roots and fir cones to trip over and break your ankle,” he said. “I may be just human, but I’m still a man and stronger than you, and I know the way.”

“You can take my hand any time you like. You don’t need an excuse.”

Veris glanced at her as he led her into the forest that started right behind the village. He grinned. “Do you think you’re pointing out a weakness, Tyra? You forget where and when you are. Here, a man keeps both hands free when he can because he might have need of them at any moment.”

The forest at night in high summer was softly warm, glowing with light from the moon overhead and dappled with deep shade. It was perfumed with a dozen scents, all of them delicious. Taylor was caught by the unexpected beauty of it and by the utter silence, so completely bereft of any modern noises. There were no nearby highways, no air traffic far above, or power lines, or campers in the distance. There was nothing but the sound of the wind against trees, far overhead, small animals underfoot and their own progress.

“Don’t you recall this and regret the loss?” she asked Veris.

‘“This’?” he repeated.

“All this glorious rustic charm and peace,” she explained. “It’s wonderful.”

“Occasionally. Sometimes. The good stuff, yes,” he said. “But this peace and tranquility came at a price. The cost was mostly bloodshed, ignorance and sheer bloody horror. I mostly don’t mind the compromise we paid for modern living.” He glanced around, looking left and right. “Yes, over here,” he murmured and took a turning in the path that barely appeared to be a path at all.

Taylor gripped Veris’ hand more firmly as the footing grew more treacherous. Branches, cones, leaves and more showed that the path wasn’t as nearly well-trod as the one they had been on. “Are you sure about where you’re going?” she whispered.

“It’s only been sixteen hundred years,” he said. “My memory isn’t that bad.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered.

She heard him chuckle.

Ahead, running water softly sounded. It wasn’t the thunder of a waterfall but a gentle trickling. Then the path opened out as the trees thinned to reveal a tiny lake. It was more like a pond. A well-thrown stone could hit the other side and not get wet. Trees crowded the edges of the water, their roots curling into the moisture like toes dipping into coolness on a hot day. The moonlight silvered the surface of the still water, turning it into a mirror, all except the far side where a tiny stream slid over half-a-dozen boulders, feeding the pond with fresh water. It was the source of the trickle.

There was a pocket-sized area next to the pond, covered with grass and the remains of old fires. Veris and possibly others had been here before.

“Only a few others know of this place and they won’t come here tonight,” Veris told her. He dropped the bundle from his shoulder and untied it swiftly. She watched him work, pulling together wood for the fire and spreading the furs for their bed. He used flint with swift movements to get the fire going while Taylor curled up on the makeshift bed.

“I don’t think anything has really, truly impressed the fact that you were born in this time upon me so much as these last few moments,” she told him as he coaxed the fire to build.

Veris dropped more wood on the fire, then satisfied it would take care of itself for a while, he turned and unbuckled the sword from his waist. He pushed the sword itself into the ground, still within arm’s reach, dropped the scabbard to one side, then stretched himself out on the fur beside her with a sigh. He rolled onto one side and propped his head on one hand. His blue eyes in the moonlight almost glowed.

“I’ve fallen back into the old habits with surprising ease,” he confessed. “You’ve noticed that.”

She nodded.

“It’s like the human body remembers it.”

“Muscle memory,” she supplied.

“Perhaps.” He frowned. “They say you remember best what you learn first.”

“But that’s human memory. You and Brody keep telling me vampire memory is perfect. You remember everything, because your mind is completely unchanging. There’s virtually no memory loss at all.”

Veris nodded, but he was still frowning. “It’s a different quality though. I’ve only realized it now that I’ve come back here and had a chance to compare. Everything is a different quality. Of course, food and drink, for which we have no basis to compare. But I didn’t realize touch was different. Smell. Even pain. Sensations. Everything’s…more alive.”

Taylor stared at him. “More alive?” she repeated.

“Better,” he added.

“Better,” she repeated dumbly. This was the articulate, educated Veris, using “better” as an adjective.

He dropped his gaze and took a deep breath. “Jesus, Taylor. There’s no words for this. If all sensation was put on a scale of one to ten, then vampires feel sensations at level six. I thought humans did, too, but I found out today I was wrong. Humans feel at level eight, maybe nine. I’ve been walking around feeling the brush of your hair against my arm and almost jumping out of my skin. The smell of your shampoo makes me salivate! The shitty cloth they call material here feels wonderful under my fingers—I can feel every fiber and it’s soft. And don’t get me started on embroidery! I made the mistake of touching the top of a lamb’s head this afternoon. Do you know how soft lamb’s wool is?” He screwed his eyes shut. “It’s…overwhelming. Every time I think about how we’re going to get yanked out of here sometime soon, without warning, back to our world, back to feeling plain old dull level six sensations…”

He rolled onto his stomach and rested his forehead on his arm. “That’s a compromise I don’t like,” he said, his voice muffled.

Taylor rested her hand on his shoulder. “Veris, didn’t you stop to think that all this overwhelming sensation is simply normal for humans? You’re just not used to it anymore. We hardly notice all that massive input on a second by second basis. We just focus in on the important signals. You’re trying to process everything and getting bowled over by the traffic jam.”

He was silent for longer than she liked. Finally, he rolled over onto his back, looking up into the night sky. “It’s still far stronger than anything I’ve felt as a vampire, with or without the traffic jam.”

“Only you can judge that,” she said as calmly as possible. “Perhaps that’s the price you have to pay for immortality. There had to be a downside somewhere.”

He turned his head to look at her. “You think watching those you love age and die isn’t a high enough price?” His words were calm, but she heard old wounds, never healed, behind them. She knew then that she could not let Veris wait much longer for her to be turned as their queen had demanded. It would be cruel to leave Brody and Veris dangling, suspended and afraid that she might be snatched from them by some quirk of human fate. Soon, very soon, Taylor would ask them to turn her.

She touched Veris’ lips. “I’m sorry. I’ve made you sad.”

“Agh.” He sat up with a flex of muscle and sinew and turned to her. “Screw sad,” he said roughly. “I want to taste every inch of you while my taste buds are still working as they should.” He pulled her across the fur until she was on her knees before him. “That’s better.” He unhooked her cloak and tossed it away. “I just wish Brody was here.”

“To taste me?”

“To taste you, for me to taste, to tell me what I taste like here. He’d have found the perfect simile for what your mouth tastes like. It’s just not the same as at home. And he’d have waxed lyrical over the food.”

Taylor fought not to giggle as Veris’ tongue slid down her throat, because the image he painted was exactly right. Brody would have so enjoyed the food. He would have been in raptures over it.

But the image faded and her delight with it, as Veris’ hands unbuttoned and unfastened her dress and underdress with swift, sure movements. Her shoes and garments were stripped from her in a few quick movements.

I’ve fallen back into the old habits with surprising ease.

It didn’t surprise her that Veris knew his way around a lady’s undergarments.

She was left, kneeling again, naked on the furs and trembling with anticipation. Her breasts were swollen and the nipples hard-peaked. Her hair brushed the small of her back. Veris thrust his hands into it. “I love your hair like this,” he growled and brought her mouth to his.

Their kiss was explosively hot and frantic. Veris’ tongue speared into her mouth as he held her head steady, exploring deeply. The kiss was different. Arousing, but different from any other kiss Veris had ever given her.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and gently pulled her head away from his.

“My God…” he breathed. “I have been missing out.” His chest was heaving. “If that was just a simple kiss, heaven help me by the time we are done.”

Then she realized. “No fangs,” she whispered. “You don’t have fangs,” she said more loudly. “It’s not you, not really.”

Veris drew back a little more. “Of course it is.”

She shook her head. “You’re you inside. But you’re not complete. You’re not really, completely Veris that I love if you don’t have the canines, if you don’t have to be careful about hurting me when you kiss me.”

Veris’ gaze dropped from hers.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor added. “I know you adore the level eight sensations and being human, but I want the real you back. I want the old Veris back.”

He lifted his head again. Astonishingly, he was smiling. “I love you, Maggie Taylor Yates.” He kissed her gently on the mouth, like he might if he was being careful with his canines, or just kissing her goodnight. “You have too much wisdom for a human as young as you. You make me feel like a fool and at the same time incredibly grateful I met you.”

He pushed her hair over her shoulder. “We’ll be back in our time soon enough. You’ll have your wish. In the meantime, I intend to finish what I started.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips over her carotid pulse. At any other time, it might have been arousing for Veris to feel the beat of her blood. Now it was only a caress of his lips against her flesh. She shivered.

His hands once more plunged into her hair, stroking it and controlling her head. He pulled her head back gently, extending her throat and giving him access to it. His mouth and tongue moved hotly across her flesh. Human heat. She shivered again, realizing that the heat of his body was keeping her warm despite the chill of the air moving softly across the pond. It was a luxury to feel heat from Veris, but she still wanted the comfort of the familiar. This was alien and a novelty only.

His lips explored lower, sending shivers and ripples across her flesh. As he nibbled and licked across her upper breasts, his hands brought her head back, supporting it. She was lowered down onto the fur, a tight bow with her calves tucked under her and her breasts raised for Veris to feast upon.

He fastened his lips upon one with a growl. His teeth nipped and tugged on the hard and sensitive nipple, as he slid his hands under her back, slowly moving them down to her buttocks.

Taylor gasped, her body blazing with need. There was a wicked wantonness in being utterly naked and writhing on furs in the outdoors while a fully dressed man played with her body.

Veris’ fingers gripped her ass cheeks, separating them, as he moved his mouth to her other nipple. He sucked on it, drawing it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue.

Taylor moaned as she was swamped with heady, ripe sensations of arousal. She could barely think beyond the need to have Veris’ cock inside her. To be fucked fast. To come as hard as she could.

Her clit was throbbing with need.

She tried to reach for Veris, but her arched position on the furs made it difficult. Veris pushed her arms back down.

His mouth left her breast. The nipple crinkled at the touch of the night wind on its wet tip, making it cold.

Veris pushed her knees as far apart as they could go. She was spread so that her pussy and anus were completely open for Veris to access as he may. Her pussy was weeping fluids.

Veris swept his tongue across her pussy and clit. Taylor cried out, her hips jerking upward.

“Ah…delicious,” he said with a groan and did it again.

Taylor moaned, her head rolling into the fur. She clutched at the fur desperately. “Veris!”

“Music,” he crooned. He sucked her clit into his mouth and at the same time pushed three fingers into her pussy.

Taylor tried to lift herself off the fur in delight, but Veris held her down. His tongue played with her as his fingers worked a different magic. Taylor could feel her orgasm rushing at her at express speed. “Veris, hurry. You… I want you.” She was panting.

But Veris continued his assault unabated. Then his thumb slid into her anus, moistened with her own lubricant and she was lost. Her climax tore through her like a silvered lightning bolt, making her shriek with delight. She could feel herself clenching about Veris’ fingers as she shuddered and came.

The aftereffects of the climax were still lingering when Veris lifted his tunics and undergarments aside, pulled out his cock and pushed it into her with a hard, single driving thrust that made him groan and pause. His hands splayed out next to her head to support him.

“Heat…” he muttered.

“You, too,” she whispered back.

“You’re like a velvet fist around me.” He swallowed. “In many ways, this feels like the first time.”

“In some ways, it is,” she murmured.

“It’s astounding.” He began to thrust again, taking his time. Then even slower.

Taylor could feel her body starting to tremble and respond to the stimulus even though she had just come. Her breathing hastened and her hips flexed. She clenched at the furs, trying to ride it out, to let Veris have his experience. But she shuddered and writhed desperately at his slow, gourmand pace.

“Veris!” she warned.

He gave a low laugh and she knew he’d been aware of her growing desperation all along. He’d been teasing her. Riding her. “Is it that you want to come, Tyra my lovely wife?”

“Damn your eyes! You know I do!” She gasped as he slid back into her, angling himself to kiss her clit with the base of his cock.

He thrust both arms out, his hands on either side of her head. “Well, then,” he said simply. He pushed his cock deep into her. Fast. His blue eyes locked with hers. “Come around me. I want to feel you come again.”

His voice, the low command, his cock inside her, brought her. She climaxed with a harsh cry that Veris smothered with a kiss.

Afterward, he lifted himself up and she realized that he had been careful not to rest much weight on her at all. He helped her un-tuck her strained calves. Then he stood and unbuckled the belt around his waist. “I’ve discovered something else about being human that I’d long forgotten—on a personal basis, anyway.”

“What is that?” she asked, kneading her lower legs back to life.

“Sweat.” He grinned and dropped the belt, then pulled the tunics over his head. He unstrapped the boots quickly and pulled them off, then the leggings and undergarments.

“You don’t have any scars, either,” Taylor observed.

Veris straightened up, dropping the last of his clothes on the pile at his feet. His cock was still ramrod hard and the head was beating against his stomach. She realized that he had not climaxed.

“The scars are yet to come,” Veris said, looking over his shoulder to his back. “I leave the village two days from now and become a mercenary for the highest bidder anywhere, now I know that Marit is truly secure. Scars are part of the trade.” He turned and walked straight into the water with no hesitation about how cold it might be. He hissed a little at the temperature, but that was all.

The pond was deceptively deep. It looked small and shallow but a few steps beyond the shore, Veris sank down to his shoulders. He bathed with quick economy and emerged, streaming water from all over his body. His erection had not survived the dip in the cold water, but there was a light in his eye that told Taylor that was a situation that would soon be remedied.

She sat up as he climbed onto the furs.

“What do you taste like as a human, hmm?” she asked and pushed at his shoulder.

Veris lay down on the furs, letting her push him there. Taylor spread his thighs and snuggled between them and hid her smile as his cock twitched. She ignored it and instead leaned over to slide her tongue over his chin. She was momentarily shocked to feel the rasp of whiskers. Then she licked down his strong neck and throat to his chest.

Veris drew in a breath.

“What?” Taylor asked, hesitating.

“Just more overwhelming sensation,” he told her. “Your tongue, your lips, your hair, your hands, your breath.” He smiled. “The heat of your body, the wind blowing over both of us… Should I continue?”

She laughed. “No.” She bent to her work again, sliding her lips farther down his long body, toward his cock which was now fully erect with anticipation and arousal. His cock was exactly as she knew it to be and Taylor was intimately familiar with Veris’ cock. She slid her lips over the head, letting it stretch her mouth open.

His hand touched her hair. Lightly. She felt his hand tremble.

“Have mercy, Taylor. I’m only human. Finish me quickly,” he begged.

Like he had finished her?

She took her time. After four years, she knew exactly how to drive Veris crazy with her mouth. The seam on the underside of his cock was particularly sensitive for Veris, even when he was a vampire. Now, in human form, it drove him mad. Taylor spent minutes stroking the seam with her tongue as her lips bumped up and down over the ridge of flesh that made the head of his cock. At the same time, she cupped his testicles and reached underneath to stroke his perineum.

Occasionally, she flicked her tongue inside the eye of his cock.

She kept her rhythm nice and slow, enough to have him tugging at the furs and rolling his head back as he made hard, low sounds in the back of his throat, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He could barely keep still.

When Taylor judged he was close to the point of no return, she spread herself over his hips and lowered herself upon his throbbing, distended cock.

He gave a cry as she slid down upon him, his hands clutching at her hips.

Taylor swiveled her hips, clenching around him.

“Ah dear güd.” Veris thrust up into her. Once, twice and with a shout he came. She could feel his seed spurting into her in hot jets as his hips lifted her.

He fell back onto the fur and Taylor relaxed, but with a growl he flexed up into a sitting position without using his hands, showing the promise of the strength that ten years of mercenary work would bring to the fore. His hands, still on her hips, lifted her and flipped her around so that she was on her hands and knees.

Taylor’s hair fell down around her shoulders. She barely had time to brush it out of her face before Veris spread her knees and his cock slammed back into her, almost as hard and hot as before. Within three thrusts he was hard again. “I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was thick with arousal and just the sound of it was enough to trip off Taylor’s own barely subsided needs. Veris was feeding them, somehow. His insatiable hunger was sustaining her own.

His fingers slipped into her cleft and stroked her clit. Taylor gasped at the electrifying pleasure his touch sent bolting through her. He stroked, making her wriggle and her hips buck. Then, when her climax neared, he changed his thrusts to hard, heavy, deep ones. His fingers on her clit began to gently pull.

Taylor arched her back, threw her head back and screamed as her climax seemed to rip her apart. Veris’ hand gripped her shoulder as he came with her. She could actually feel his cum inside her, pooling in her vagina like molten lava, even as her body disintegrated around him.

She found herself on her knees, her back against Veris’ chest, panting, as she recovered.

Veris turned her chin so he could reach her lips from over her shoulder. His were warm. “One of these days we will resolve this silly marriage issue,” he said.

“We’re already as married as you vampires count it,” she pointed out, tiredness tugging at her.

“I want to be married to you as we humans count it,” Veris replied.

“Not if I can’t be married to Brody as well, and not if you can’t be, too.”

“Brody and I are as married as two people can be,” Veris said.

“Then why can’t that do for you and me?” Taylor asked. She smiled sadly. “Because I’m human?”

Veris looked away.

* * * * *

Taylor blinked in the dark. There were street lights outside, but it was utterly dark here. She felt stiff and very sore.

“Taylor?” It was Veris somewhere next to her.

“Can you see where we are?” she asked. Her voice was stiff and scratchy.

“We’re on the upstairs library landing. Stay still. You’re all scrunched up with books around you.”

She heard movement. Then light came on. She was lying on the carpet on the upstairs landing, her legs at odd angles, surrounded by half a dozen old books. The same books she had been carrying when they jumped back to Veris’ birthplace in old Norway.

Veris, more able to overcome stiffness, hurried back to help her up and sit her on the padded stool against the wall. “We must have fallen to the floor and laid here for the day and the night we were back there,” Veris said, sitting next to her. “Instead of mimicking movements like we normally do.”

Taylor swallowed. Her throat was very dry. She looked at Veris.

His gaze slid away from hers. He went to get up. “I’ll get you some water.”

“I don’t need water.” She caught at his hand and pulled him back down to the bench. “Veris, stop.”

He sat back heavily. He stared at his hands.

“Veris.”

He closed his eyes. “Marit,” he breathed and put his face in his hands.

Taylor let her tears flow then. Veris wouldn’t have any to shed.

He looked up after a minute and touched her face. “Can you spare some of those for me?”

She nodded. “I thought you might need them.”

He pulled her into his lap and held her tight. “This is another compromise I hate, Tyra.”

“I know, Väinä. I know.”

His breath caught. After a moment, he began to breathe again. And after a while, he had the courage to let her go again.

Neither of them had the courage to tell Brody about that particular jump.

Chapter Four

Taylor stared down at the diary entry as she finished her green tea lemonade. Veris was the father of her baby, then. It was ironic. He’d been missing for two weeks now. The lecture series had been over for ten days, but Veris hadn’t arrived home on the expected flight. The limousine had returned empty.

Brody had received the news in silence. His first reaction had been to glance at her. Then, nothing. No reaction at all. Taylor knew he was muffling his responses. Hiding them, for her sake. It both bothered and touched her.

But this news put everything into a whole new class of…not quite urgent. Importance?

What if Veris had gone off on one of his decade long breaks?

Taylor’s heart gave a queer jerk.

Brody’s tight-lipped silence about Veris wasn’t reassuring on that point.

She simply had to find out more from Brody.

A feminine hail, light and throaty, caught her attention. She lifted her head from the diary to look. The road the Starbucks branch was on served the hospital where her doctor’s office was located, not far from the main entrance—a very strategic location.

The sexy blonde woman was tall, lean and drop-dead gorgeous, wearing the latest in designer sundresses in dazzling, traffic-stopping red, that stopped just short of showing off what was sure to be the latest in designer underwear, too. Her legs were, Taylor admitted, gorgeous. Tanned, endless and finished with strappy stilettos even Taylor wouldn’t mind owning. Red, of course. Plus red toenails to match. She was leaning against a convertible sports car with the top down, wearing sunglasses and lipstick that matched her dress.

As Taylor lifted her head, the blonde waved enthusiastically toward someone emerging from the hospital to catch their attention. Then she dived between cars, causing at least one driver to stomp on his brakes and slam to a stop. She made the curb on the other side, flashing plenty of thigh, kept running and threw herself at the doctor as he stepped out of the second set of sliding doors. She wrapped one long leg around his thigh and kissed him with a thoroughness that told everyone within viewing distance that theirs was not a nodding acquaintance by any stretch of the imagination.

The doctor returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his hands on her ass. He slid one hand down her thigh and back up so it was under the dress.

Taylor could feel the green tea lemonade trying to come back up her throat.

The doctor was Dr. Edward Cruz, who had been so cut up about his wife’s malignant brain tumor.

Taylor watched Cruz and the blonde climb into the convertible. They shared another intimate kiss before the blonde pulled the car out from the curb and drove away.

Taylor closed her diary. It was time to go home.

All the way home she kept seeing Cruz’s hands on the blonde. The knowledge burned that he wouldn’t have pulled that stunt if Brody or Veris had been with her at the examination.

* * * * *

Brody watched Taylor walk into the library from his seat on the balcony and for a moment it was like watching a stranger walk into the room. She had lost weight, he realized with a start. Over the last few weeks of record heat and the stresses of her new job at the state library, she had lost more than a few pounds. Enough to be noticeable.

He sat up from the slouch he’d fallen into while he’d been reading. Who was he kidding? Veris’ absence was mostly responsible for her wasting away before his eyes.

He felt like a bastard for only just now noticing it. Someone who cared more would have noticed sooner. Veris would have.

Yes, but Veris wouldn’t have been dodging her in the first place, would he?

Self-loathing circled through him. Brody put the book on the floor beside the low-slung chair. He’d lost all interest in it now.

Taylor came up to him. “Thought you’d be here,” she said softly. “Can I interrupt?”

Even the question made him feel guilty. “Of course,” he said roughly. He studied her face more closely. She was ghostly white, to the point where he could pick out the tracery of veins under her skin. Good God, what had he and Veris driven her to?

“You’ve been working too hard,” he said, probing.

“Perhaps,” she said lightly. She pulled over the padded bench and perched on one side of it. She spread her hand on the empty space next to it, her mouth curving up in a small smile that made him think, oddly, of Veris. Had they had sex on that bench? He made a mental note to ask Veris one day.

Taylor looked at Brody and there was a tiny line between her brows. “Do you know where Veris is?”

Bingo, Brody thought. Then he mentally sighed. He wanted to slug Veris square on the jaw for what he was doing right now.

“Truth, Taylor?” he said. “I have no fucking idea.”

Her face fell. The change of expression was so dramatic, Brody was alarmed. He held up his hand. “That doesn’t mean we don’t have resources to dig the bastard up if we have to.”

She hesitated. “What does that mean, exactly?” she asked.

Brody sighed. Jesus. He so wanted to kill Veris now. If the old Viking could see the look on Taylor’s face, he’d be back here in a heartbeat, groveling on the floor at her feet begging forgiveness. Instead, he’d left Brody to deal with her. Brody wasn’t Veris and she wanted Veris.

There was no way to explain the truth to her and have her accept it, because for her, it wasn’t acceptable. Just waiting around for Veris to work out whatever the hell he had to work out then come home, fuck his brains out when he did and move on…that wouldn’t go over with Taylor. It couldn’t. As Taylor had pointed out, she didn’t have the timeline they did.

Brody pushed his hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know how to explain all this stuff. Veris is good at it. You’re good at it. You two are the brains. I just go along for the ride, remember?”

Taylor shook her head. “You’re better at it than you think. You’re the son of a bard and you have poetry in your soul. You understand feelings. You understand people. That’s why you and Veris get along so well. You do know this stuff. You know words very well indeed. So just tell me. Tell me your way.”

He blew out his cheeks. Taylor wasn’t going to let him off the hook. So he ruffled his hair again and sat forward. “Look… I was a slave for seventeen years. I know what it means to be afraid of being locked into a relationship that is too tight. So does Veris. He negotiated your independence before you stepped foot through that door, four years ago, remember?” He inclined his head toward the front door.

Taylor nodded. She was independently wealthy now and didn’t need to work a single day of her life if she didn’t want to, thanks to Veris.

“I’ve known Veris a very long time,” Brody continued. “We took a long while to figure things out between us. It wasn’t always smooth.” He grinned. “Still isn’t.”

Taylor smiled. It was weak, but it was there.

“You need to figure that stuff out for yourself, too. This is the start of it.” He picked up her hand. “I love you very, very much. As much as I love Veris. I would never want to have to choose between the two of you. I don’t think I could anymore.”

“But,” she said softly.

He smiled. “You keep saying you want Veris the way I have him, but you keep trying to grip too tight.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. That’s where you’re wrong.”

Surprise touched him. “Why?”

“He wants to marry me.”

Brody sat back as something hot and hard skewered his chest. “Did you say yes?”

“I said I would marry him only if I could marry you, too.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Marry me?”

“Is that a proposal, Brody?” Her gray eyes seemed to grow larger as she watched him.

He swallowed. “It’s academic anyway. This world will only let you marry one man and neither of us are really men to begin with. Besides, in our world you’re more permanently bonded to both of us than any of today’s marriages appear to last.” He shrugged.

Taylor nodded slowly. “So Veris tells me.”

Brody sighed. “He’s never turned anyone.”

Her chin jerked up and her eyes seemed to get even larger. “Excuse me?”

Brody grimaced. “In nearly sixteen hundred years, Veris has avoided making anyone a vampire. He won’t do it.”

Taylor’s breath pushed out in a rush. “Oh my…” She frowned. “Because of you?” she asked. “Were you…forced?”

Brody shook his head. “Not unless you consider a choice between death or vampirism as being forced.”

“It was another slave that made you, wasn’t it?”

Brody nodded.

“And you and Veris didn’t meet until the crusades.”

“The first crusade.”

“Even though you were both in Britain in the fifth century.”

Brody grinned. “It happens. Angelina Jolie and I are both in the United States right now, too, but I doubt we’ll ever meet.”

Taylor smiled a little. “Don’t discount your own fame. She might like Death Metal music. Your band is fantastically popular in North America and you get mobbed whenever you go to Europe”

“I won’t hold my breath on it,” Brody said. He brushed Taylor’s hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know why Veris is staying away. I’d like to kill him myself, except that it would upset you. I’ve tried the hotels he’s supposed to be staying at, but he checked out. He’s gone to ground and I’ve lost track of him. We spent years touring around Europe before the band got known here and we’ve got contacts all over the place over there. Veris knows…six, seven modern languages. He’s got four current passports and sets of ID that I know about. He could be anywhere. I gave up trying to trace him two days ago.”

Her smile this time was radiant. “You’ve been trying, though.”

Brody sighed again. “Yes.”

“You wouldn’t, normally, would you?”

“No. I’d let him sulk and kick his ass when he came home.”

“So you were doing it for me.”

“Well, yes.” He shrugged.

She slipped into his lap and that told him exactly how much weight she had lost. She was a featherweight on his thighs. “If ever you got around to asking me to marry you, I would say yes, Brody Gallagher. You’re too good for me, but I’d say yes anyway.”

Brody caught his breath in pleased delight, just as she kissed him.

* * * * *

The dry, dry heat was his first warning. That and the noise of dozens, if not hundreds of hammers on wood, the braying of horses and donkeys. Brody opened his eyes to dazzling sunlight and shut them, giving his too-sensitive vampire vision a chance to adjust.

Taylor’s lips were still against his. “I’m not wearing a red shirt,” she murmured.

Relief flooded him. “Then you’ll live long and prosper,” he said. “Wait a moment,” he added. “It’s too bright for me. I have to adapt.”

She slid her arm around his neck, giving him the time he requested. He felt the touch of cloth. Smelled bergamot. More impressions registered. Voices. Many of them. Languages. Accents. Arabic, Farsi, old Latin. And Medieval French. Lots of it.

That alone was almost enough to tell him where they were. “There’s a walled city nearby,” he murmured.

“Yes. And people standing along the walls, firing arrows.” Her lips brushed against his. To the rest of the world they would look like they were kissing. It gave him the privacy he needed to let his eyes adjust to the blinding harshness of the Middle East in high summer.

He sighed. “Then I know where we are. Holy Mother.” Slowly, he began to open his eyes.

There was a loud clearing of a throat nearby. “Clearly, I’m interrupting,” came the familiar voice.

Brody turned, alarm slamming through him. Taylor gasped behind him.

Veris stood a dozen paces away. He wore a red and black tunic with a red crest on the breast, over a black mail hauberk and a long sword strapped to his hip. His visor was under his arm and he held a war horse by the other gauntleted hand, unconsciously controlling the fretful animal. His blue eyes blazed in the bright sun as he looked from Brody to Taylor and back.

“You are Brendan, Raymond’s man, are you not?” Veris asked.

Brody nodded. “I am.”

Veris looked past him again. “You brought your lady wife with you all this way?”

Brody glanced at Taylor over his shoulder. She was dressed in the clothes of a landed woman. Then Brody spotted the crest on the center of her gown. Her bliaut, he recalled from memory.

His crest. He fought the need to look down at his own tunic to confirm the blue and white crest was repeated there. He knew it was.

Taylor was staring at Veris with wide, shocked eyes.

“You are William, with Selkirk, who is camped with Godfrey of Bouillon on the north side of Jerusalem,” Brody prompted, turning back to Veris.

“I am. Most who call me friend call me Will, though,” Veris said. He looped the reins of his horse around a lump of blasted and sun-bleached rock that was weighing down the rope holding up the pole of the tent behind them. The tent was emblazoned with Brody’s colors, too. Veris pulled off his gauntlets and held out his right hand.

Brody took the offered hand, staring into Veris’ eyes. There was no recognition there. Nothing.

Taylor stepped up to Brody’s side. He could feel the fine trembling in her as she stared at Veris. He reached under the deep looping sleeves of her bliaut and squeezed her wrist in warning.

She either didn’t understand or didn’t care.

“Sir, would you permit me an indelicacy?” she said to Veris.

He seemed puzzled. He looked her over with a flicker of his blue eyes. “If I must,” he said dismissively.

“Tyra, this is not the time,” Brody said softly. There were too many witnesses. Knights tending their weapons nearby. Pages caring for horses and running errands. Footmen, soldiers, cavalrymen, far too many witnesses lolling about in the heat of the day that would soak up the gossip Taylor was about to create.

She reached up on tiptoe, her veil thankfully hiding her actions from most of the people nearby. Her fingertips rested against Veris’ jaw and she kissed him. It was no light, chaste peck. Brody knew from personal experience that Taylor threw her mind, body and soul into her kisses and the impact was devastating to the recipient. Veris—Will—had never experienced one of Taylor’s kisses before. If anything was going to bring the modern Veris back to the past, this would.

Veris broke the kiss and staggered back a few paces. He stared at Taylor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “An indelicacy?” he said, sounding utterly outraged. He turned eyes blazing with fury upon Brody. “Keep your woman contained, Norwich.” He picked up the horse’s reins and mounted, then turned the horse until he was looking at Brody again. His gaze was direct and angry. “I believe we were at cross-purposes. I must have misunderstood. I won’t make that mistake again. Good day.”

He turned the horse and wheeled away.

Fright tore through Brody. He lifted his hand to halt Veris. “Wait!” he called. But it was too late. The horse was already galloping away and the sound was loud on the dried-out land.

* * * * *

Taylor watched Veris gallop away on the horse and felt a sense of panic. Kissing either one of them had always worked to bring them into the past before.

Brody whirled to face her and the despair on his face told its own story. This was worse than she thought. Something was wrong beyond simply failing to bring Veris back to the past.

He grabbed her arm and hurried her into the tent behind them. She found she was tripping over the hem of her dress until she thought to lift the front of it as she walked.

The inside of the tent was astonishingly luxurious and stiflingly hot. She gasped at the still warmth, feeling sweat break out on her temples.

Brody walked a pace or two, then back. The sword at his side slapped his thigh.

He rounded on her. “In case you didn’t figure it out, that was the moment Veris and I…” He took a breath. “Got together,” he finished. He pushed his hands through his short hair. “Or when we were supposed to in our true pasts.”

Taylor wrapped her hands around her middle. “But you didn’t, just then. Because of me. Because he saw me.”

“Right.” Brody kept pacing.

Taylor sank down onto a chest with a flat carved lid. “Oh, God, Brody, this is awful. He said he wouldn’t be back.”

“Right.”

“He thought he misinterpreted.”

Brody nodded. “We had a moment earlier today. He was following up. He wasn’t misinterpreting at all. In the real past, I was alone.” He threw himself into a big wooden chair and put his head in his hands. “Oh fuck, this is a disaster…”

Taylor really was starting to feel ill now and wondered if it was something to do with the baby.

Then a more terrible thought struck her. “If you two don’t ever get together, if we don’t fix this, then what happens? Do I never get to meet you in the future? Do we as a relationship suddenly cease to exist?”

Brody lifted his head and looked at her. It took him a long time to answer. Eventually he said slowly “I suppose…yes. We do. If the time travelling we do is real, like Veris claims and not just in our minds, like the queen seems to think, then yes, we’ll cease to exist as a relationship. Veris and I don’t get together, so you never meet us in the twenty-first century.”

Taylor already knew that the time travel they did was real. The proof of it sat in her uterus. My baby will cease to exist too, she thought. She clutched at the edges of the chest as dizziness swept through her. “Then we have to win Veris back for you, don’t we?” she said. Even to her, her voice sounded wobbly.

Brody gave a harsh, hollow laugh. “You’re talking about manipulating the most un-cooperative man on the planet, the man who has never had a true master, remember?”

She pushed forward on the chest. “I’m talking about seducing a man. That’s a different sort of manipulation.”

“I didn’t seduce him the first time. He hunted me. Veris would never consent to being the prey.”

“Well, he’s going to have to consent to it this time, isn’t he?” Taylor snapped. “We’re possibly running out of time. Between the two of us, we know every erotic weakness Veris has. If we can’t seduce him, no one can.”

“We?” Brody repeated, sitting up in the chair.

“Fatimids! Fatimids!” came the cry from a dozen voices outside the tent. At the same time, the sides of the tent began to shiver as something slapped it repeatedly.

“Fuck!” Brody muttered in English. He picked up a bow and slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he said, his voice flat. “You’re mortal. I’m not.” He dropped the tent flap down behind him, leaving her in virtual darkness and with nothing but the shouting and slapping against the tent to listen to.

There was a sharp tearing sound and a clatter nearby and Taylor finally lifted the tent flap to see what had happened.

An arrow lay next to her feet.

They were shooting holes through her tent.

Taylor picked up the arrow and stepped out of the tent. It was of no protection to her, anyway. Instead, she ducked down behind a row of bags of seed that had arrows sticking out of the sides of them and watched over the top.

There was a lot of fighting happening on and around wooden equipment close by. There were a lot of bodies swarming over the equipment but gradually Taylor could make out the basic shape and recognized it from history books and movies. Siege engines…incomplete siege engines.

Then she realized what was happening and her memory supplied the rest of the information from her study of history.

This was the first crusade when the Fatimids controlled Jerusalem and the western powers marched on the city and laid siege. They broke the city in July 1099 by cannibalizing one of their ships and building siege engines from the wood. Brody would have to give her the exact date.

But the Fatimids clearly weren’t happy with the idea of the western allies building siege engines and were trying to stop them from completing them. Raymond and his men, including Brody, were beating off the Fatimids and protecting the engines.

Taylor sought for and found Brody’s tall figure among the allies. In his blue and white tunic, he stood out. She was shocked to realize he was liberally daubed in blood and the blades of his sword and knife were red with it. He was fighting as hard as the men he directed, and shouting orders at the same time in a parade ground voice she could hear from her sheltered position behind the seed bags.

The fight stopped abruptly. She didn’t see the Fatimids give up but suddenly, they all laid down their arms and were backing away from the engines.

A group of five of the Fatimids was forced to their knees in front of Brody and another man with red hair and a green tunic that Taylor guessed was Raymond, Brody’s superior. Brody had an arrow sticking out of his left arm. She hadn’t seen that happen. He was leaning on his sword as if he were tired as he spoke to the men kneeling before him.

The Fatimids spoke quietly, never lifting their gaze from the ground at their knees.

Brody moved with lightning-fast speed. He lifted the sword, swung it and decapitated the man and was walking away all before Taylor barely began to react.

She clapped her hand over her mouth, sure that this time she would be physically sick. But Brody reached the tent itself and she found she had not moved from her crouch on the ground.

Brody leaned on the sword, looking at her. “You didn’t stay in the tent,” he growled. Even his face had blood sprayed on it.

“The arrows were shooting through the tent. I figured I was just as safe out here, behind these seed bags. They’re like sandbags.” She stared at him. Brody was nothing like she had ever seen before. Not from him. She let her gaze settle on the arrow. “Do you want me to tend to that?”

“No, thanks.” He pushed into the tent. “Mordacai!”

A small man with tight black curls hurried in after him and Taylor followed in behind.

“My lord?” Mordacai asked Brody.

“I need the wound kit and let’s open up the tent.”

Taylor sank back down onto the chest again. “What can I do?”

“Help me get everything off around this arrow,” Brody said shortly, as he worked at his sword belt.

She rose again and worked the belt undone, then eased the bloody tunic off. The hauberk unlaced at the shoulders, but the arrow pierced the sleeve, so Brody shook his head. “It stays until the arrow is out. Just get my gauntlets off for me. Flexing the muscle hurts right now.”

“Just hurts?” she asked.

“Just hurts,” he confirmed. “It’s not fatal. Nothing is,” he added softly for her ears only. “Except spears. The spears here are basically wooden stakes with metal tips. One of those through the chest is a stake through the heart.” He caught her eye. “I saved Veris from one this morning.” He grimaced. “We recognized each other as vampire immediately.”

Mordacai hurried in with a wooden box which he placed next to Brody and hurried away.

“That’s why you liked each other?” Taylor asked.

“No.” He blew out his breath. “It’s Veris. You tell me why you first liked him.”

She tugged the gauntlets off his hands. “Because he’s so large he sucks all the air out of any room he’s in. Because you can’t look away when he’s there. Because he’s Veris.”

“Exactly,” Brody said dryly. “Sometimes, I wonder what he saw in me.”

“You say he and you were fighting this morning?” Taylor asked.

“Yes.”

Taylor thought of what she had seen of Brody out there just now, bawling out orders and leading his men. The ruthless leader who had just summarily executed the leader of the opposing side and barely remembered it now. The man who was now gripping the arrow stuck in his arm with pliers and was…

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

“Pushing it through.”

“What?”

He held out the pliers. “It’s my non-dominant hand and it’s been centuries. You’ll have to do it.”

She backed up a step. “Do what?”

“Push the arrow through and cut off the head, so you can pull it back out.”

All around them, the sides of the tent were falling on the ground as servants unlaced them from the roof and rolled them up. It left a filmy layer of thinnest gauze as the walls.

Brody hefted the big, rounded-head pliers. “Either you do it, or someone from this time who has no idea about infections and cleanliness does it,” he said.

“You can’t get infections,” she said, but took the pliers anyway.

Brody held out his arm. “You’ll be more gentle than anyone else,” he added.

You don’t feel as much pain in vampire form. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back at the last second. Now was not the time to begin that conversation.

Brody placed his hand on her shoulder and the other on the arm of the chair. Taylor swallowed hard. “I don’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered and took a good grip on the arrow.

“Do it fast,” he told her.

She put hard pressure on the shaft and felt it move through the tissues in his arm. Nausea swept over her, but she gritted her jaw and breathed hard and kept pushing. The flesh beneath was the worst, because it stretched before it gave way. Taylor was nearly hyperventilating when it was done.

Brody, too. But his voice was calm. He pushed the links of the chainmail up his arm to expose the metal head of the arrow, now red with his blood. He gripped the other side of it with his other hand. “Use the heavy sheers to cut it off,” he told her. “You’re nearly done.”

She picked up the sheers, still breathing heavily. With a series of cuts, she sawed the metal head off the arrow. She made sure there were no splinters hanging from the end of the arrow.

Brody pulled it out of his arm. It made a sucking sound.

Taylor clapped her hand over her mouth. “Where?” she tried to say, looking around wildly.

He pointed. There was a covered bucket sitting in the corner. She staggered over to it, pulled off the lid and vomited hard and tiredly into it. When she was finished, she put the lid back on and pulled herself back onto the chest.

Brody was naked from the waist up and wrapping a bandage around his arm. He was scowling.

“You’re angry?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“For heaven’s sake, now is not the time to be coy about anything. If we’re to get out of this, we have to stick together. I’ve got to know what you’re thinking. All the time, not just when it’s convenient for you.”

“You won’t like what I’m thinking,” he told her.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle hearing things I don’t like. Stop being the peacemaker for once.”

He looked up from the bandage, startled. “Is that what I do?”

She bit her lip. “You try to protect me. A lot. Mostly from Veris.”

“I just know what he can be like.”

She leaned forward. “News flash. After four years, so do I.”

“Not really. Not the worst of it. Not all of it. His disappearing act in Europe caught you by surprise.”

She shook her head. “Surprise, no. I knew about them. Distress, yes. But not for the reasons you think. I’m working it out. Just not the way you and Veris work it out. I’m female and I’m human. Of course I’m going to work it out a different way.” She tilted her head. “So what are you going to tell me that I won’t like?”

He tied off the bandage using his teeth and the fingers of his right hand and sat back. “I’ve always suspected you held a romanticized view of me. ‘Brody the poet.’ Today just confirmed it. You don’t see me at all. Not the real me. If you did you wouldn’t have been so shocked by what happened here just now. You would have accepted it as part of who I am. You would have known that’s what I’m like. I was a slave, I’m a soldier. I’m just a savage who happened to strike it lucky and ended up owning land and a title when it counted. Veris was the educated one, for all he didn’t write a word. Even before he left Norway he could speak five languages. Who do you think taught me to speak Saxon? Arabic? Greek?”

Taylor recoiled. “That’s what you think I believe of you?”

“I know it. You’re looking at the wrong person if you’re looking at me to be the gentle one.” He picked up his hauberk and tunic and undershirt with his good hand and his sword belt with his injured one. “I’m going to find out where Selkirk is camped and what Veris is doing. I was a good hunter myself, once. Time to unpack old skills.” His gaze slid from her face. “I don’t know how long we’ll be left in this time, Taylor. Pray it’s long enough to fix this. If we jump back before Veris commits to me, then we jump back to non-existence.”

Chapter Five

The tent was divided into half by a panel of gauze. The other side was clearly Taylor’s side of the tent. There was a pair of beautifully painted five panel dividers, arranged to provide privacy for changing when the heavy tent sides were taken down, as they were now. There was a chair made comfortable with cushions and even a bed that must have been carried all the way from England just for her convenience. There were two big chests of clothes and smaller boxes of possessions. The costs and logistics involved in carting such luggage shocked her. No wonder Veris had been so disdainful about bringing a woman on crusade.

For the first time, Taylor realized that for this time and age, Brody had to be a man of influence and means, especially to be able to afford to bring such burdens as a wife and her luggage with him. The huge tent, the servants and the crest she wore meant Brody had his own lands and they supported him very well indeed.

And he considered himself to be a savage?

A woman with a much smaller crest on her gown stepped into the tent and through to Taylor’s side and dropped her head down low. “My lady,” she murmured. “M’ lord said you were looking for me. I’m sorry, I fell asleep. It’s this heat.” She straightened up and cast her eye over Taylor. “You’ll be needing to dress for dinner.”

Taylor looked out at the blazing sun, which was noticeably lower in the sky. “My husband wants a formal dinner tonight?”

The woman smiled. The smile showed wisdom beyond the few years the woman seemed to possess. “With all the rationing, I don’t think dinner will be anything much at all. But we must try, hmm?”

* * * * *

When Taylor insisted on bathing first, the woman was shocked. Then she explained that water was even more severely rationed than food.

Taylor shed layers of gown and undergown as the woman—Taylor could not directly ask her what her name was—fetched the jug of water that was Taylor’s share for the evening and poured two cupfuls into a laver. Taylor used that water to wash herself while standing on a cloth behind the screens, then let herself air dry. In the torrid heat she dried in a few minutes.

She discovered when she unplaited her hair that it reached her ass. The woman combed through it with quick, practiced motions, barely tugging at all. Taylor marveled over the length and thickness of it. “Veris would love this,” she murmured.

“Excuse me, m’lady?” the woman asked.

“Nothing,” Taylor said quickly. She realized she had spoken English.

The woman had put out another full chemise and bliaut for Taylor to wear. The chemise looked to be made of some delicate cotton while the bliaut was rich with embroidery and with the heavy full sleeves.

Taylor shook her head. “I’m not wearing that. It’s too hot.”

“It’s a formal evening gown.” The woman shrugged. “The chemise is the lightest you have.”

“I’ll wear that, then.”

The woman looked relieved and picked it up.

“Haven’t I got a robe or something simple to wear over the top?” Taylor asked. “Or is all I have here bliauts?”

The woman frowned. “Robe, m’lady?”

“Something light that covers me, but isn’t constricting.”

“Like the tunics your husband wears?”

Taylor laughed. “That’s perfect! Go and get one from his chest. And the sheers!” She slipped into the delicate, cool chemise. It had a rounded neck and clung to her body from neck to hip. The material was so fine it left very little to the imagination. In the twenty-first century, it could even be called seductive.

The woman brought one of Brody’s blue and white tunics to Taylor, along with the sheers. The tunic was laid out with light blue and white squares on the left and white and light blue on the right, which left a perfectly straight line right down the center for her to cut along.

She tried the “robe” on. It was too large around the neck and had a tendency to slide off one or other shoulder, but if she tied her belt around the waist, it served well enough. It was a more comfortable substitute than the bliaut. She could slide into it in thirty seconds and it left her free to wear just the chemise while she was in the tent.

“Put the gown away,” Taylor told the woman. “I’ll wear that the night we have a real dinner.”

The cantering of a horse warned her of someone’s approach and she found herself looking around hopefully to the north. When she saw the blue and white of Brody’s tunic, her heart skipped a beat. He’d returned.

He threw his reins to a page, his gauntlets to another along with a murmured order and strode into the tent.

The woman bowed her head.

“My thanks, Mary,” Brody told her. “Go get yourself some supper. You’re dismissed for the evening.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the woman told him and slid past him.

Brody didn’t even look at her.

Mary, Taylor catalogued, as she ran her gaze over Brody, taking in the broad shoulders that the long hair and heavy metal clothes usually diminished. He wasn’t hugely muscled like Veris, but he was very strong, all the same. Some time since he had strode, fuming, from the tent and his return, he had washed off the blood and dirt.

But he still looked angry.

“You didn’t see him,” Taylor guessed.

Brody shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

He made an impatient sound. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Apologize? This is partly my fault. You tried to tell me not to kiss him right then. If I’d listened, then maybe it would have gone okay.”

“Damn it, Taylor, don’t.” He lifted up his hand and made a fist of it. “I lay on a ridge and watched his camp and couldn’t see a sign of him. All I’m supposed to be worrying about right now is Veris and getting him back. Yet I look at you in that chemise with your hair loose and the only thing I can think about is dragging you down to the ground and fucking you until you mewl for mercy.”

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment. Then it hurried on, faster than before.

“You like my hair, too?” she asked. She didn’t dare move in case she broke the spell. Brody wasn’t pissed at her right now. She wanted to keep it that way.

Brody made a choked, almost desperate sound. “I can feel my hands sliding into it. I can see locks of your hair spread about after I’ve made you scream my name. Yes, I like your hair.”

She licked her lips. “Then, when—if—we get back, I am never cutting my hair again.”

His jaw rippled. “Veris told you the same thing, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

Brody looked away.

“I know what he saw in you the first time, Brody.”

His black eyes narrowed as he looked back at her. “He told you that, too?”

“No, but I saw it today, I think.” She threaded her hands together. “You were right, a little bit. I do tend to think of you as the bard. But not in a bad way. Not in a weak way. I think you underestimate yourself by calling yourself a savage.” She waved her hand around the tent. “You’re supporting how many people? You speak and write how many languages now? Right now in this year, 1099, before you met Veris?”

Brody’s mouth opened a little. “That’s hardly—”

“Yes it does count! God damn it, you’re just as stubborn as he is!” She shook her head. “Why does toting up Veris’ achievements make him smart, but it doesn’t mean the same thing for you?” She stared at him, daring him to refute her.

Brody cleared his throat and gave the half-sheepish shrug he always gave when he knew he was cornered. His mouth curled up at one corner. “I supposed it doesn’t count because I’m just as stubborn.”

She fought not to laugh. She had a point to make and wouldn’t let herself get sidetracked. “Thank you,” she said simply. “You didn’t need Veris to shrug off any traces of savagery or slavery. You did it all just fine by yourself. Today, I watched you as a leader of men, out there when the Fatimids tried to take down the siege engine.”

His glance flickered to where the wooden structures stood like forlorn abandoned structures, except that guards patrolled their base.

“You saw…all of it?” he asked.

She nodded and he winced. “Now I begin to understand your reactions this afternoon. That, then tending the wound, so closely together. I asked too much of you. Women of this century are raised to it.”

He thought she couldn’t handle the bloodiness of his work. The reality of what he was. They were back to that again. He couldn’t know she had been sick because of the baby. Now was not the time to tell him.

Taylor hurried to correct his impression. “Yes, you’re ruthless,” she said quickly. “I think that’s why you think of yourself as still a savage. Leaders are ruthless. It comes with the job. But Veris would know the difference and I think that’s what he saw in you.”

Brody drew in a sharp breath. She had surprised him.

“He saw you as a leader,” she added, “A successful man who came from the worst of beginnings. A man who hasn’t lost his soul along the way. The bard is still in you. Veris would have seen that and for Veris, that would make you almost irresistible. I know it does for me.”

Brody hung his head for moment. He shook it then lifted his chin to look her in the eye. “You’re astonishing. I insult you and head off to seduce another man and when I come back, you do nothing but praise me and put me on a pedestal.”

“You deserve it.”

He shook his head again. “Now I’m starting to feel like you’re the one stealing the oxygen, Maggie Taylor Yates.”

There was a clearing of a throat and they both looked around. The page boy stood at the entrance to the tent, his back to them, holding something.

Brody called, “Come!” in French.

The boy entered, carefully carrying the metal plate. It held food.

“Your supper,” Brody explained. He switched to English. “There is very tight rationing. I asked them to give you my portion, too.”

She smiled at him. “I remember that from the history books. Thank you.” She took the plate and smiled at the boy and thanked him in French. It was easier to speak in French than English, which took conscious effort to use. But using it with Brody made their conversations perfectly secure.

“Use my chair,” Brody told her and pulled over a small folding table. “And my knife. It’s clean now.”

“Clean by our standards or crusades standards?”

“Ours.” He held it out. “Boiling water for twenty minutes. They think I’m crazy.”

She ate, suddenly ravenous. Food would be a problem here if she was pregnant and it was rationed. She would have to be careful about hoarding handfuls to ward off sickness if it struck.

“Tell me about you and Veris. How it was really meant to go,” she asked as she ate. “We need to plan how to get things back the way they should be.”

“You know this story,” Brody said.

“The broad strokes, sure. You’ve never given me the full-on tiny details. Neither has Veris.”

“Really? I’m surprised.” Brody pulled the chest over closer to the table.

“You’re the storyteller,” Taylor pointed out.

Brody grinned and unbuckled his sword belt. He reached around her to hang it over the back of the chair. As he did so, he kissed her cheek. “And I don’t even mind the tag this time. How do you do that?”

“It’s called truth.”

“When I use the truth, people just get insulted.” He unfastened his belt and dropped it beside his chair.

“You use it like a weapon. You use it to wound.”

Brody paused from lifting the tunic over his head to glance at her. “More truth, huh?”

She smiled. “Tell me about when you saw Veris for the first time.”

Brody threw the tunic on top of his belt. “It was another skirmish, like the one you saw this afternoon. The Fatimids want to preserve St. David’s Gate. Everyone does, of course—”

“Why ‘of course’?” she interrupted.

He looked surprised. “I keep forgetting you learned this stuff in history books. It’s the gate where they used to lead all the sinners, dragging their crosses on their way to their execution. Jesus would have gone that way up to the mountain. But there is also a holy Muslim temple — a mosque — on the same mountain.”

“I see,” Taylor said.

“Godfrey of Bouillon and his group are patrolling the walls along the north of the city and down along the west side as far as St. David’s Gate. Raymond, my patron, is controlling the walls south of St. David’s Gate, until they swing toward the east. The Fatimids tried another sally this morning, at the gate. Both Godfrey’s forces and Raymond’s became involved in beating them back.”

“And you ran into Veris,” Taylor finished.

“Not exactly. I was clearing the south side of the gate for Raymond’s knights to push through and saw Veris take a sword in the side. It was a mortal blow—or should have been for any other man. I think he believed no one else saw the strike. I thought nothing of it except that it was a waste of a fine fighting soldier, for I’d seen him working the field before.”

“Military thinking.” She picked up a date. “If I’d seen Veris fighting and knew nothing of him, I’d rue the loss of such force and skill, too.”

Brody grinned. “I was stunned to find him still fighting twenty minutes later, apparently none the worse for wear, except for a rent in his tunic and blood all over it, with his temper up well and good. I knew then, what he was. He could be nothing other than vampire. No one else would have survived such a blow.” He leaned forward on the chest, his eyes glowing. “You should have seen him. He was as good as three men, laying them down like a scythe at harvest time, his eyes blazing with fury. It was fascinating.”

Taylor had seen Brody only a few hours before, locked in battle with dozens of Fatimid fighters and she had been just as compelled by the warrior who had emerged from Brody at that time. She knew exactly what had drawn Brody to Veris.

“Then I saw the spear from the corner of my eye,” Brody said, straightening up. “I have no idea even now, sixteen hundred years later, what made me so sure the spear was intended for Veris. There was no signal they were heading for him. It was just a sinking feeling I had that the one weapon that was lethal to vampires would be used against him. So I started running, trying to reach Veris before the Fatimid with the spear did. The Fatimid was clambering over the bodies that Veris had slain and making hard going of it, but Veris was turned away. The asshole was going to take him from behind.” Brody shrugged. “I got there in time.”

“In time to do what? Come on,” Taylor complained. “You can do better than this! What happened next?”

He blinked. “You want more detail?”

“Of course I want more! You can’t hold out on me about something as important as this! I want every single little detail. Every second of it!”

Brody rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking acutely uncomfortable.

Taylor straightened. “Oh wait. Oh, no, is this a guy thing? You don’t want to talk about the intimate details? Is it?”

He glanced away, out of the tent, then down at his boots. “I don’t know that I’d put it…”

“Oh shit, it is,” Taylor said, staring at him in amazement. “That’s why I’ve never heard this story from either of you. You can’t talk about it because you’re both guys and it’s icky talking about intimate stuff.” She swallowed back a big lump of laughter, because she knew that would be guaranteed to make Brody shut up permanently. Instead she sat, flummoxed by the logic of the male mind.

“I don’t get it,” she said softly. “Neither of you has ever had any problem talking about anything at all with me about stuff we do, before now.”

Brody took a breath. A big one. “Of course not. That stuff we do with you.”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip while she phrased her next sentence very carefully. “But you don’t even mind talking about stuff you and Veris do—I mean, now I’m with you.”

“Exactly. You’re with us now.”

“But you talk about stuff you do even when I’m not there.”

“Not there physically, but that doesn’t make any difference,” he said flatly, his gaze not shifting from her eyes.

Ahhh… And just like that, the shape of it fell into place for her.

“Are you afraid I’m going to resent your relationship with Veris in this time, if you tell me too much about it?” she asked softly. “After all I said about your hold over him, the hold I didn’t have and wished I did?”

“No. I wasn’t even thinking about that,” he said flatly. He grimaced. “Although now I am.” He yanked at the hauberk and pulled it over his head in one impatient tug and it fell with a metallic, heavy sigh onto the ground between his feet. He plucked the undershirt away from his chest. The expression in his eyes was one of discomfort touched with resentment. “This time has always been ours.”

“‘Ours’?” she repeated, puzzled.

Brody rubbed at his brow. “Mine and Veris’.”

It actually hurt, once his meaning sank truly home. She sat staring at him as the pain settled and spread like a fast expanding pool of something black and noxious.

“God, don’t look at me like that,” he said with a groan.

“How should I look?” she whispered.

He turned his gaze from her. “It isn’t meant to hurt you,” he ground out.

“It does.” She couldn’t quite keep her voice steady. “What do all the trips back in time mean to both of you, then, if your time before me is so sacrosanct? Are they just make-believe? Something you pretend never happened? An alternative history in your memory? What?”

“Don’t do this to yourself. Not now. Especially without Veris here.” Brody sounded a touch desperate and even perhaps afraid of what he’d set in motion. “He would explain it better than me anyway.”

Taylor sat up, push her plate away. “Not now? Then when? Where? We’ve been together four years. These trips back in time were supposed to be giving us a chance to backtrack through both of your memories. I thought we were building me into your personal histories. That’s what the queen said and neither of you saw fit to disagree with her, or tell me any differently. Now you tell me neither of you consider me a part of your past. That you’re fighting to keep me out of it! How the hell did you expect me to react? Smile and say ‘oh, how silly of me. My mistake’?” She reached for the tunic she had cut up, thrust her arms into it and yanked it closed around her furiously.

Brody watched her every movement. It wasn’t until she gripped the spiked post at the back of the chair that he spoke.

“You’re reading far more into this than you should.”

“Really? The two men I love don’t want me involved in four-fifths of their lives? That’s trivial?”

That jerked him to his feet. “You’re going to penalize us for having pasts longer than you? I didn’t think you were capable of such prejudice.” The condemnation in his tone was rich.

She held up a hand. “Stop,” she said softly. Tears burned in her eyes. “God, Veris taught you how to do that, didn’t he? When the going gets too tough or uncomfortable in an argument, attack instead. It’s the easiest way out of talking about feelings.”

Brody sank onto the chest. “You’re right. That’s exactly what he does. Jesus, I just did it, too. I didn’t even realize.” He pushed his hand through his hair, then scratched at the back where the long hair he was used to feeling was missing.

Taylor felt her tears spill and let them roll unchecked. Brody was just going to have to feel even more uncomfortable now. This was too important to dance around with subtleties.

“Brody?” she nudged gently.

He lifted his head to look at her and sighed. “Oh, God, it was just a simple thing. It wasn’t this huge significant shutting out you feel it is.”

“Tell me,” she begged.

He looked down at his hand resting on his knee and curled the fingers into a fist, then loosened them. Thinking. Then he looked at her again. “It’s like that rule most people have about not discussing intimate details of past relationships with their current lovers.”

Taylor lowered herself onto the edge of the big chair. It held no cushion or comfortable lining. That, more than anything seemed to characterize Brody in this time period. “But you and Veris are my current lovers.”

“It’s different for us. You live as long as we do, you tend to compartmentalize your life. It lets us blend in with humans. It keeps us sane. Keeps things straight in your mind. You keep the events in one section separate from the others.”

“And you’ve separated you and Veris into one section and me and you and Veris into another?” Taylor asked.

“Something like that,” Brody said. He picked up her hand. “There’s no reason why the three of us won’t continue on for another two thousand years. You’ll have plenty of history to share with us.”

She pulled her hand from his. “Then why do we get to jump around history? Your history? Veris’ history? There has to be a reason. The queen thought it was so I could catch up with your pasts. Now you’re saying you don’t want me to share that. You’re saying she’s wrong. Veris has been insisting for about a year now we’re not just living inside our memories when we jump back, that this is really time travel. We’re actually back in history. I have facts to prove that he is right, too.”

“What facts?”

“I can’t give them to you until we’re back in our time. They’re material proof.” She fought hard not to touch her belly as she spoke, or look down at it. “But if we’re not flipping backward in time for me to catch up with your pasts, then why are we doing it?”

Brody shook his head. “You really think I have an answer for that?”

Her tears began to fall again. “I think you’re wrong. Both of you,” she said flatly. “We only ever travel to times and places in your personal pasts. Things you remember. It’s one of the first things both of you nearly always say when we arrive. ‘Oh, I remember!’ And have you noticed that I’m always with you when we travel? Sometimes the three of us go. Sometimes it’s just you and me and sometimes just me and Veris. But it’s always me that goes.”

Brody’s hand clenched. “I had noticed,” he admitted.

“Why would we be doing that if it wasn’t for me to catch up with your pasts? Can you think of any other reason?”

He sat there for a long moment in silence. Taylor waited him out.

“No,” he said at last. “But it doesn’t mean that yours is the only reason. It just means we haven’t figured out the reason. That’s all.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m not trying to trap you into agreeing with me. I’m just trying to get you to help me to reason it out.”

Brody pressed his fingers to his temples. “God, I wish Veris was here,” he muttered.

Taylor wiped her damp cheeks. “That’s why we’re having this conversation you so hate,” she pointed out. “To make sure he’ll be here next time we need to have one.”

His black eyes skewered her. Her heart beat twice before he said flatly, “And for that you need to know every little detail of what happened when Veris and I met.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The past has been disrupted. We need to get it back onto its rails again. You know how it is supposed to go because you lived it the first time. I didn’t. But if I know as much about what did happen, I can help nudge it back on track. We both know him inside out. I’ll have to make some adjustments for this younger version of him, but his erotic tastes will still be the same. If we can’t orchestrate your seduction of him in record time, then we don’t deserve him.”

Brody pulled the undershirt off over his head. Slowly, as he thought through her plan. “You suggested something like this earlier today,” he pointed out.

“Yes.”

“You really are willing to help me do this?” he asked, almost diffidently.

Taylor shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, it’s all of us at stake here. I’d do anything to preserve that. So would you.”

His face hardened and seemed to grow older before her eyes. “True,” he said simply. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting the big picture. I only seem to be able to focus on the fact that Veris is gone.” His gaze cut away from her face abruptly.

“For now, that is all we have lost,” she said gently. “If we jump back to our time and Veris is still lost, then we lose it all. I lost Veris today too, Brody.”

He looked back at her, shocked. “And you were the one who kissed him…” He pulled her onto his lap and into his arms. “Forgive me. I’ve been utterly selfish.” His kiss was soft, seeking forgiveness. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand wound into her hair and his tongue slid into her mouth, while his lips hardened and grew more demanding and hungry.

His free hand found the hem of her chemise and pushed it up her legs, baring them to the night air that seeped through the tent walls. In this hot, dry climate even Brody’s hand was warm as it slid along her flesh. His thumb caressed her inner thigh.

Taylor sighed. She craved this intimate contact. The implied approval and love was a balm after the loss and disaster of the day and she clung to Brody, her body strumming with pent up need.

“Higher,” she begged, when his lips lifted from hers.

His thumb pushed between her thighs, up against her pussy lips. “No underthings. Why, my lady Tyra, you are most wicked,” he murmured. He licked her throat. His fangs lightly scraped over her skin. “Bare my cock and straddle me,” he commanded.

Taylor glanced around. There were soldiers, knights, pages, dozens of people lingering around the tent, going about their business or sitting or lying about campfires. But they were minding their own business. Inside the tent, as Brody had brought no candles with him, it was almost dark. Only the light from nearby fires illuminated the interior.

“I am their lord,” Brody murmured. “The walls of the tent, even though they are like gossamer, may as well be three feet thick curtain walls of a keep. My men are stone deaf and blind to everything that happens in here until I call for them.” He pushed aside the rendered tunic and his tongue slid over her nipple, through the thin fabric of the chemise. “Undo my pants,” he repeated.

She caught her breath at the bolt of pleasure that speared her at his touch on her breast. She dropped her hand to the fastenings of his braies and fumbled with the ties at his waist. It took her a few moments because she was both inexperienced and excited.

Eventually, she tugged at the garment, letting it drop down his hips and baring his cock. It reared, red and veined, more than ready and she stroked it. She adored Brody’s cock, which was thick and had a perfectly formed head. She loved Brody being inside her. She spread her knees over his hips, feeling her pussy open up ready to have him slide in. She gathered up the delicate chemise around her hips.

“Wanton,” he told her and bit her nipple through the chemise.

She moaned and sank onto his cock, feeling it slide up, separating the walls of her vagina.

His hand gripped her bottom and the tight grip told her he liked the sensation of her around him. Taylor lifted herself up and slid down upon him again.

Brody groaned, his eyes half closing. She caught the flash of fangs. He was truly aroused. She leaned forward to kiss him and lift herself up at the same time. She let her tongue touch his canines very carefully. It was all the warning he needed. She felt them withdraw.

His hands grabbed her hips and with a growl he jerked into her, hard and fast, riding her. She felt his cock slamming up into her and grabbed at his shoulders as her climax rushed at her with express train speed. Her clit was being massaged by Brody’s pelvis with each hard upthrust and all she could do was hold on for the ride.

She climaxed with a cry she did her best to smother against his hard, muscled shoulder.

Brody came a few seconds after her. He shuddered, his fingers digging into her hips and groaned loudly.

Taylor could feel her cheeks heating. Brody seemed utterly unconcerned about the men lying and sitting barely twelve feet away.

Taylor tried to climb from his lap, humiliated, but Brody stopped her. “Don’t,” he said softly. “They take pride in their lord’s virility and they have no thoughts about you at all. It is the way of it and we must be a part of these times for now.” He held her still until she ceased trying to get away from him.

She hid her face in his neck, instead. “For a moment I’d forgotten I was your property.”

She felt him laugh silently. “I wouldn’t dare presume that for anything but appearance’s sake.”

Taylor pulled back and kissed him lightly on the lips. When her breath and heartbeat had slowed, she murmured, “So…do you think you can tell me about you and Veris now?”

His hands linked around her waist. “I can try,” he said evenly. “But Taylor, you’re asking a man to talk about intimate details. Most men would rather stick themselves with red hot pokers than speak of such things.”

She nodded. “While a woman will spend hours going over every single second from every angle and analyzing it for implied meanings and more, with her best friend, her second best friend and maybe her mother for advice, just in case.” She sighed. “I do know this. But between you and Veris, you’re the most likely one to ever be able to tell the tale. Veris would clam up like an oyster if he was in your position. You’ve at least got a famous poet for a father, so you’ve got storytelling in your blood. Think of it that way, if you must. Tell me a story.”

Brody frowned. “If I have to,” he said reluctantly. He flexed his shoulders, like he was squaring off before a national heavyweight champion in the ring. “Where was I before?”

“You saw the spear heading for Veris and stopped it. Big on details, that,” Taylor said dryly.

Brody nipped the tip of her nipple between his teeth and tugged, stretching the still-damp cotton of the chemise and making Taylor catch her breath sharply. “You’re in no position to complain about anything,” he reminded her when he let go.

She took two calming breaths. “The spear,” she prompted him.

* * * * *

The spear had a silvered tip that caught the dazzling early morning sun and flashed in Brody’s eyes. That was the only reason he saw it in time.

The Fatimids had clearly grown tired of the giant knight blocking their path and mowing down their companions with fearless and angry efficiency. Brody was certain now the broad-shouldered knight in the red and black Selkirk colors was vampire. The sword in his side had done nothing more than get his temper up and now he was an fury-filled fighting machine, standing upon a pile of rubble at the top of the breach in St. David’s Gate. Not a single Fatimid had made it through. The man had given Raymond’s people time to build the temporary wooden walls they could put in place over the hole the Fatimids had made.

But the Fatimids had not appreciated the knight’s effectiveness and one of their better warriors had been chosen to deal with him. Armed with a silver-tipped spear, the warrior had stolen closer under the cover of the chaos of Fatimid soldiers pushing toward the gap.

Brody saw the warrior as he began his run up the ramp of rubble toward the big knight. He had chosen a moment when the man had turned away to deal with Fatimids who had stepped through the wall and were perilously close to getting away altogether. From the angle the warrior was approaching Veris, the spear would take him in the back.

Brody began to run at the same time. There was no thought in it. He wasn’t even certain the spear was intended for the knight. He just didn’t like the line of possibility. Vampires and spears didn’t mix and the knight’s flank was unprotected.

Brody pushed between the knight and the ragged edges of the wall breach. He already had his sword up in the high guard position, the tag position, so it was simply a matter of bringing it down as he cleared the wall. It chopped off the head of the spear before it reached the knight as cleanly as a knife cut through lard. Brody risked taking one hand off his sword hilt to catch the infidel by the throat as his impetus pushed him farther up the rubble hill. The man literally ran onto Brody’s sword point and a surprised look appeared in his eyes before blood cascaded from the corners of his mouth and all emotion faded from his eyes.

“That was for me, wasn’t it? The spear?” The knight was suddenly at Brody’s shoulder. His voice was hard, heavy.

Brody tossed the warrior back down the rubble hill and looked over his shoulder. This close, he could see the knight’s eyes were pure blue. Saxon, he’d bet his life on it. There’d be blond hair under the helmet. If the man was truly vampire, did he go as far back as Viking, then?

“The spear was meant for you,” Brody confirmed. “You should be more careful,” he added. “Spears can be nasty for some.” He touched his canine under his lip so the knight would see the movement of the tip of his tongue.

The man’s eyes narrowed a tiny fraction. Then his mouth lifted at one corner. “You’ve been watching,” he said, dropping his voice just enough so that anyone nearby would have to strain to hear it. That still meant he was talking louder than a conversation anywhere else might be.

With a start, Brody realized that he had been watching this man with more than the usual amount of attention. His heart thudded. “Yes,” he said truthfully.

The knight turned and blocked a sword and beat back a Fatimid with a growl of impatience for having his conversation interrupted. He looked back at Brody, wiping blood from his face. “Norway, four hundred and thirty-nine.”

Brody felt a rush of adrenaline that had nothing to do with the fighting. The vampire before him had revealed his true age and birth place. Just like that. It told Brody the knight was just slightly older than him. Brody took a breath and rattled out “Britain, four hundred and sixty-one.” It felt risky to reveal such information so quickly, but the knight had already made the first move.

The man smiled, showing whole, good, white teeth. “Arthur’s man?”

“Too young.” Brody pushed back the rush of black memories that came with the name. Irons, chains. His back burning with the taste of a whip. Cages. Filth and cold. Misery. He swallowed back the reaction.

The knight’s gaze seemed to absorb all of it. “I see,” he said. Abruptly, he whirled away, taking on the pressing Fatimids with a roar and clash of iron. Brody found himself fighting next to the knight, holding back the Fatimids until the temporary wall was put in place.

Nothing more was said between them of a personal nature. There wasn’t the time or the privacy. But Brody caught the man looking at him once or twice and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and something low in his belly tightened with possibilities.

He did find out who the man was, though. William of York, Selkirk’s man. Brody wondered what his real name was as he went about the business of the day. He wondered how long it would take William to track him down.

It never occurred to him to hunt William himself. Of the two of them, William was the hunter and in his gut, Brody knew the hunt had begun. He spent the rest of the morning half-aroused and happy among the carnage, lack of food and water and human crisis.

Chapter Six

Veris completed his duties, both assigned and unofficial, by the time the camp had settled in for the night. He washed off the dust and dirt of the day, found a clean tunic and a borrowed horse and rode down the line of camps south toward St. David’s Gate at an easy canter, enjoying the night breeze on his face.

He still wasn’t sure why he was doing this. There was no sound reason for it. After finding that Brendan was married and was besotted enough to bring his wife with him on crusade, he should be leaving well enough alone. The man was lost to him. Veris had found him with his arms about his wife in the middle of the day, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Those were not the actions of a man who roamed outside his marriage. Who would want to, with a wife that looked as lovely as Brendan’s, anyway?

Briefly, Veris recalled the moments the woman had touched and kissed him. She had an ethereal quality he’d never seen before. Quite beautiful. What had that kiss meant? It had been shocking. But despite his initial shock, he had a nagging feeling she had meant to achieve something with it other than seduction. She had been surprised when he had stepped back, as if she had been expecting something that had not happened…

Veris realized he had let his borrowed mount lapse into a lazy-hipped walk while he had been busy with his thoughts. He kicked it back into a canter again.

There were mysteries to be unraveled, he decided. That made it worth a second conversation. That was all he was doing. Just speaking to them again. Nothing more.

Having settled it in his mind, he rode on feeling somewhat happier. But images of Brendan at the wall that morning, the look in his eyes, kept flashing into Veris’ mind as he rode, disturbing his simple mission. Worse, he kept remembering the sensation of the woman’s lips on his.

He was nearly at Brendan’s camp when it occurred to him with a shock that nearly unhorsed him: She had kissed him with the expertise of a human who knew how to avoid being hurt by vampire canines.

Brendan’s wife knew what Brendan was.

Ergo, she knew Veris was vampire, too.

The last quarter mile to Brendan’s camp was very long and full of racing, difficult thoughts indeed.

* * * * *

“Now, was telling me the rest of the story about Veris and the spear so very hard?” Taylor asked, as Brody poured her a mug of water from their combined rations, which had been boiled the requisite twenty minutes now.

“It’s easier trying to tell it as a story,” Brody admitted. “But that was the simple part anyway. This next part…” He took a deep breath. “You really want all of it?”

“All of it,” she confirmed, placing a cushion underneath her on the chest. “I need to know what he was thinking and telling me what happened will give me the biggest hints. All of it, Brody. The whispers, the murmurs. I’ve seen you two together doing just about everything the human body can do, so it’s not like you can shock me.”

Brody grinned. “I think you can drop the ‘just about’.”

“I was being cautious. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, you two come up with something new.”

He chuckled. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“You should know.”

He grimaced. “Never again. Thirty years as a barrister was too long for me.” He settled on the chair, rested his elbows on the arms and pressed his fingers together. “You know the start of it. Veris—Will—found me outside the tent early in the afternoon. He’d obviously done some research and found out who I was. That must have given him pause for thought, because he’s a knight and I’m a landed lord at this point in time. Neither of us gives a damn about such things, but in this time and place other people care very much about such matters.”

“Don’t they also give a damn about men being together?”

“Surprisingly, not so much. It’s condoned in a blind-eye sort of way, depending on your partner. War time couplings are very common. Men get lonely.” He shrugged. “Young boys with their soft skin are quite sought after, but long-term liaisons are something else.”

“I imagine they can find those disturbing. Threatening, even.”

“If they learn of them. If they’re flaunted, yes.” Brody shrugged. “We didn’t wave it around. Later on, when the Christian church really got going on the evils of sodomy…well, we took it completely behind doors.” He grinned. “So did a great many other people. The years Queen Victoria was so set on everyone being perfect were very interesting.”

Taylor smiled. “So I’ve heard. But you were saying?”

Brody grinned again. “You’ll have it out of me an inch at a time, won’t you?”

“If I must. I’d rather you just tell me and stop struggling.”

“Surrender to you, huh?”

She could feel her own smile broaden all on its own. “If that appeals to you, sure.”

Something in his gaze darkened. “I suppose you think that’s what happened with Veris and me, hmm?”

Taylor could feel her body tighten. “It didn’t?”

Brody’s smile grew slow and warm. “Don’t hurry the troubadour’s tale.”

* * * * *

Brody was seeing to the dispersal of his men for the afternoon and evening when William arrived. It had been far sooner than Brody had expected and caught him off guard. He looked up at William on his big black war horse as the knight dismounted, doffed his visor and snagged the mount’s reins about the bleached lump of blasted rock that weighed down the rope of the tent.

William stopped a dozen paces away. He wore a clean tunic now, the same red and black Selkirk colors, with a red crest on the breast, over a black mail hauberk. His long sword was strapped to his hip. His visor was under his arm and he held the horse by the other gauntleted hand, unconsciously controlling the fretful animal. His eyes blazed in the bright sun as he studied Brody.

“You are Brendan, Raymond’s man, are you not?”

Brody nodded. “I am.”

“You are William, with Selkirk, who is camped with Godfrey of Bouillon on the north side of Jerusalem,” Brody prompted.

“I am. Most who call me friend call me Will, though.” He pulled off his gauntlets, strode over to Brody and held out his right hand. “Thank you for what you did this morning, friend.”

Brody took the offered hand. At the touch of Will’s hand a light shock seemed to travel up his arm and down into the pit of his stomach, to curl and roil like a restless snake. Brody fought to keep his face expressionless. “I would call it nothing, but perhaps you might return the favor one day. I know it would be no small matter, then.”

Will’s blue eyes, which seemed to match the sky behind him, locked with Brody’s.

The shiver became almost a shudder. Brody dropped Will’s hand. “It would be natural for me to invite you into the tent for a cup of wine,” he said, dropping his voice so it wouldn’t travel.

“Then you had better invite me in and call for wine. We can find a crack in this blasted dry earth to pour it into, I’m sure.”

“I made sure the crack was there when I had the tent pitched.”

Will grinned. “Then let’s drink,” he said loudly.

Brody led the way to the tent. “Bring wine!” he called, as Will handed his visor and gauntlets to the small, new page Brody’s men were training.

It was warm in the tent but private. The light was nice and dim after the radiant scorching brightness of the daylight outside.

Brody settled himself on the big chair. It didn’t surprise him when Will pushed the clothes heaped untidily on the chest by Brody’s lazy page onto the ground and settled on the broad flat surface, facing him. The man seemed to be able to make himself comfortable no matter where he was.

He studied Brody frankly. “You’ve done well for yourself, clearly.”

“Because I have land? Dirt is easy to come by.”

“If you say so. Try having blue eyes and blond hair and acquiring a title. Up until about fifty years ago, being Saxon was a curse. Now the pope has waved his hand and all is forgiven, although the Norman French still look sideways at me.” Will grinned. “Perhaps I will catch up with you yet.”

“You seem to do well enough. Surely, that’s all that one needs?”

“Not quite,” Will said flatly, his gaze steady.

Brody was caught by that unwavering gaze and almost jumped when the tent flap rustled as the page hurried in with a tray carrying a pitcher of wine and two mugs. He placed it on the table next to Brody.

“See we’re not disturbed,” Brody ordered.

“Yes, milord,” the page told him and hurried out, after a fear-filled glance at Will.

Brody poured the wine and handed Will a mug. “Your good health, sir.”

“I’m sure you could come up with something better than that,” Will said, not lifting his mug.

The direct challenge.

Brody smiled. “You don’t believe in a subtle hunt, do you?”

Will put his mug on the table once more. “Britain, four sixty-one. That was the year you gave me, wasn’t it?”

Brody nodded. He could feel his heart picking up speed just sitting there.

“Camlann was only thirteen years later,” Will said, his tone conversational. His gaze wouldn’t release Brody’s eyes, though. “I know that year exactly because I was there.”

Brody realized he was squeezing the mug. He didn’t let it go, though. He couldn’t. “I wasn’t there.”

“Not for all of it,” Will replied.

He knew. He had read it on Brody’s face this morning. Brody tore his gaze away from Will’s eyes, that saw so much.

“How long were you a slave?” Will pressed.

Brody closed his eyes. He drew in breath that burned and made his chest shudder. Screams. The stench of burning flesh. The crackle of fire. Men shouting. Above all, pain.

“You fight the memories still,” Will said. His voice was closer.

Brody opened his eyes to find Will standing over him. He gasped in quick breaths to calm himself. “I fight the memories only when someone deliberately provokes them, knight.” He curled his fingers around the arm of the chair and wished mightily that he could quaff the mug of wine in his other hand. Drunken oblivion would be useful right now.

Will cupped Brody’s face in his hand. “I won’t hunt a man who has been a slave. I’m not that cruel.”

Simultaneous disappointment and arousal circulated through him at Will’s words and his touch. Brody froze, trying to deal with both.

Will’s thumb stroked over Brody’s cheekbone. The caress sizzled along his nerves and arrowed into his groin. He bit back the groan that tried to emerge.

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, the depths in you…” He leaned down and kissed him.

The kiss brought Brody’s body alive in a way he’d never experienced. But not just his body answered the kiss. As Will’s lips moved against his and his tongue pushed inside Brody’s mouth, he knew this was no ordinary dalliance, of which he’d had plenty.

His body was rock hard and his cock throbbed painfully when Will let him go and stepped back.

Brody wanted to reach for Will, to bring him back closer again, but there was something in Will’s eyes that stopped him.

Will drew a breath that was not quite steady. “There is a small, quite private and hidden corner of the desert two miles due south of Mount Zion. There’s nothing there but an ancient olive tree and what was once a building and a very deep well. I’ve pitched a tent and most nights I go there to not sleep in peace.” He lifted the mug of wine. “Around two a.m., when the human cycle is on the ebb. Come alone. It’s risky, because the Fatimids have circled us, so watch yourself.”

Brody sat forward. “You want me to come to you.”

“I want you to come to me freely. No coercion. No hunt.” Will lifted the mug. “To possibly the most interesting man I’ve ever met.”

Brody almost laughed until he saw the flat, genuine light in Will’s face. He meant every word.

* * * * *

One o’clock in the morning couldn’t get there fast enough. Brody seethed, bawling orders, his temper at the close edge of irrational as he trampled through the rest of the very long afternoon, evening and immortally slow night. The time crier ceased delivering the news of the hour at midnight, so Brody had to guess when it was approximately one a.m. He rolled off his tousled bed, still partially dressed, and slipped under the fine linen sides of the tent. The horse he had arranged for the evening’s excursion was waiting for him thirty paces away, which was far enough from his camp and his men to avoid drawing attention to his activities.

He took no chainmail, because of the noise it made. But he took all his weapons, including his sword, bow and arrows and knives. He wore a leather half-hauberk instead of mail. It was a compromise, but it would have to do.

He walked the horse carefully around the camp, past the sentries after giving them the passwords and then a good dozen more paces farther on before mounting. Finally, he let the horse break into a trot, heading it for the upswell of Mount Zion that shone black in moonlit night. As soon as he felt comfortably far enough away from the siege camp, he began to gallop. The horse was fresh and ready to race and the night was cool. She eagerly stretched out her legs.

They rounded Mount Zion and Brody looked up into the night sky for the cross formation of stars that pointed always toward true south. There it was, utterly reliable, no matter where one was in the world. He lined the horse’s head up with the stars and noticed track marks of other horses following the same route. He was on the right trail, then.

They hit loose sand dunes and their progress slowed. Brody let the mare chose her own pace, while he picked the direction. About forty minutes later, he saw the flicker of a fire over to his left and angled the horse that way.

On the lee side of a dune sat the crumbling remains of a sun-bleached wall, an equally old and pitted round well with a well-kept wooden cover over it, the withered branches of a very old olive tree with a few tough leaves and a tent with a campfire before it. Spread out on the soft sand before the tent was a bedcover and cushions. It looked like something out of the illustrations Brody had once seen in Muslim stories.

The mare slowed as it approached the tent, perhaps sensing it had reached its destination and resting place.

Brody dismounted, looking around. The spot seemed deserted. He extended his senses and was just in time to feel-hear the approach of someone from the rear of the horse. He whirled, pulling out his sword, only to have the blade clash against Will’s knife and come to a standstill.

“I had to know it was you, first,” Will explained. “The well has been poisoned by the Fatimids so the locals don’t bother coming here anymore, but there are still some travelers from farther away who stop in sometimes, even this late at night.”

Brody returned his sword to the scabbard. “Your privacy seems to come with some inconveniences.”

“My quarters with Selkirk are less than ideal. I’m happy to pay the price asked of me for this little oasis.” Will pushed his knife back into his belt. “Let’s get your horse comfortable. And then let’s take care of you.”

A ripple ran up Brody’s spine.

It took less than five minutes to settle the mare, loosen her girth and give her some feed. Brody patted her on the nose as a reward for her good nature while Will leaned against the broken down wall, both elbows hooked on the top of it, watching.

The tension was back in Brody’s gut. He glanced at Will and saw a brooding expression had settled on his face.

Brody made himself turn to face Will. “You were quick to tell me who you were. Your birth date.”

“You already knew I was vampire. Why be coy?” Will’s eyes narrowed a little. “How many other vampires have you known?”

“Apart from the one who made me?” Brody shook his head. “None.”

“Sweet Lord,” Will murmured. “You’ve held yourself apart all this time? Managed alone?” Admiration filled his tone.

“I hated vampires. Hated myself. For a very long time,” Brody admitted. “Then I…adjusted.”

Will nodded. “It’s a very common reaction, the hatred.”

“It is?”

“You might have known that, if you hadn’t cut yourself off. Others might have helped you through it. But…it’s done now.”

And still, Will continued to lean against the wall.

Brody realized then that Will meant every word he had said earlier that afternoon. He would not come to Brody in any way. Brody must go to him.

His entire body seemed to bloom and grow hot and begin to pulse in one giant heartbeat.

Will was waiting.

Brody had to force his feet into taking the first step. Then another. The next three were easier. Then a sixth.

And then he was there. Will was taller, but Will was taller than just about everyone. Brody liked that. It fit with Will’s force of personality. Brody cupped Will’s cheek as he had done to Brody that afternoon. His hand was shaking.

At his touch, Will’s breath rushed from between his lips, telling Brody that Will was as tense as he was.

And abruptly, most of Brody’s fear departed, leaving him simply an aching, tightly wound bundle of intense need. He pressed his lips to Will’s and savored the taste, before thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

His canines extended and he was too overwhelmed to have the necessary control to retract them. Will would hopefully take it for the compliment it was. He pressed Will’s mouth against his, holding him there while he probed with his tongue. Tasting. Exploring.

When Will groaned, the tension in Brody’s body tightened to the point where a tap on the shoulder could have shattered him into a thousand pieces. His cock was throbbing against his belly in time with his heartbeat and the heat in his balls was like a furnace.

He reached for the hem on Will’s tunic with one hand, not willing to break contact with his mouth for a second.

Will’s hands came alive. They gripped Brody’s arms and he was spun around and pushed against the wall. Their kiss was broken.

Will was breathless. “There’s something I want to do for you. First.”

Brody knew exactly what Will intended. He didn’t think he could withstand more excitement, but his heart leapt anyway.

Will didn’t wait for an answer. His hands slipped beneath Brody’s tunic and pushed it up around his waist. Will smiled when he saw Brody was bare from mid-thigh upward, bereft of braies. “I’ll remember this sight,” he murmured and dropped to his knees in the sand.

He spread Brody’s thighs and his fingers caressed his balls, just before his hands cupped and squeezed them. Brody let his eyes close and his head roll back, the night air brushing over the heated skin of his face. He was actually hot. Aroused and hot.

When Will’s mouth closed over his cock, Brody groaned desperately. He was already so close to climaxing, Will’s work would be over barely before it had begun. Brody squeezed his hand into a fist, fighting the pleasure, trying to make it last as Will’s lips slid along his shaft and his tongue worked the underside with powerful effectiveness.

Then Will’s teeth bumped over the ridges of the head of his cock and Brody lost control of his building climax completely. It crashed through him with a power that swamped his senses. He dimly heard himself shout as he jerked and came with hard, grinding thrusts that dimmed his vision and drained his energy. He clutched at the crumbling wall for support, waiting for his heart rate to settle back to normal again and his breathing to quieten.

Will sat on the sand, watching him, wearing a small smile.

Brody let go of the wall and stood up carefully. He cleared his throat.

“Well, I guess we know your sensitive spot,” Will said.

“What’s yours?” Brody said. His voice was strained.

Will stood up and unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the ground. “There’s two ways to find out.”

“You could just tell me,” Brody said.

Will turned and headed for the tent and the fire, pulling his tunic off as he went. Like Brody, he wore no mail underneath, but he did wear an undershirt and hose. He dropped the tunic and kept walking. “I could just tell you, but that wouldn’t make it very interesting, would it?”

Brody shed his tunic and the leather hauberk. Then, quickly, the undershirt, as he followed Will to the fire. He removed both hose and boots in two strides apiece, which left him naked, as he wore no braies. It was simultaneously an unrestricted and sinful feeling and he could feel his body responding to it.

Will stepped onto the bedcover still wearing his undershirt and leggings and turned to face Brody. He paused, studying him. “I thought you might have more scars,” he said, almost diffidently.

From being a slave, Brody realized.

“I was young. Very young. I healed well,” he explained. “And then I was turned before life handed me any more.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirty. I think.”

“You were a slave for seventeen years?”

“It would have been longer except I kept defying them.” Brody shrugged, trying to make it sound casual. “In the end it killed me. Or it would have, except another slave turned me.”

Will nodded. He reached for his undershirt. “Then you fared better than me, when it came to scars.” He pulled off the shirt.

There were minor scars in several places on his body, but there was a major scar right near his heart. In the moonlight it looked dark. Brody imagined it was red in daylight. Will turned and Brody saw a long, wriggling scar along his back, high up under the shoulder blade.

“In the twenty years before I was made I did what I am still doing now. Mercenary. Soldier for hire. But I was mortal then and the scars I got didn’t disappear like they do now.” Will turned back to face Brody and removed his hose and shoes so that he was naked. “I’m marked by my profession.”

But that wasn’t what Brody was looking at. Rather, his gaze was caught by the perfect symmetry of Will’s body. The man had a lot of muscle—far more of it than most men Brody had ever met. The muscle swelled and bulged and curved in a way that made Will’s flesh dip and rise intriguingly. When he had turned to show the scar on his back, Brody had also seen the hard buttocks and taut thighs and the curve of the broad back down to them.

From between Will’s thighs, his cock was standing erect. It wasn’t as thick as Brody’s, but it was possibly longer and the head flared wider, with the thick tracery of veins that showed on a man with pale skin.

Brody stepped onto the cover and felt rich embroidery under his toes. He wondered where Will had acquired it, but the thought faded. Will drew him closer, his hand on his hip.

Brody stroked the scar on Will’s chest, feeling the roughness of old skin healed badly. He let his fingers slid down over the flat stomach and felt it quiver in response. Then the sensitive thin skin by the hipbones. He stroked Will’s cock with his fingertips and it jerked. He gripped it and stroked more firmly.

Will hissed, his hips shifting.

Brody, enjoying the petty control over such a powerful man, kept stroking and teasing. He let his thumb drift over the seam on the underside of Will’s cock.

Will grabbed Brody’s wrist and squeezed. “Enough,” he said hoarsely. “I will not have you finish me this way. Not this time.”

This time. Brody wanted to protest at the implied assumption but didn’t, because he would be a hypocrite if he did. He already knew he wanted Will again after this night.

“You might as well get comfortable, Brendan,” Will told him, turning and heading for the tent. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”

Brody shuddered as he watched Will walk away. The shudder wasn’t in fear or distaste, either. His body was suddenly throbbing with great need and desire again.

Will stepped inside the tent and emerged with a small bottle in his hand. Brody recognize it more by intent than content. Oil.

His body tightened even more. His cock was spear-straight and hard as a rock against his stomach.

“Lie down,” Will told him as he returned.

“Brody,” Brody said. Even his voice sounded strained. “My name is Brody.”

Will paused. “That’s something we don’t usually give out easily. Brody.”

“I won’t have you fuck me without it.”

Will nodded slowly. “You’d better call me Veris, then.” He grinned. “It’s not my real name, but it’s my own adopted one. No one can wrap their tongue around my real name.”

“What is your real name?”

“Väinämöinen.”

Brody smiled. “I’ll call you Veris, too.”

Veris stepped closed enough that their chests touched and their cocks brushed against each other. “I’ll have you calling my name as you come, Brody.” His hand was heavy on Brody’s shoulder as he pushed Brody down onto the cover.

Brody sank down, his heart thundering, his arousal a tight coil in the pit of his stomach once more. His balls were two heavy, hard masses between his thighs. Will—Veris—opened his thighs and settled between them. He poured a little of the oil onto his palm and spread it on his own cock and more of it with slow, teasing strokes over Brody’s. Then down to his anus and perineum. Again with slow deliberation.

Brody was twitching with anticipation.

Veris finished with a squeeze of Brody’s balls. Brody just about cried out then. He half lifted himself up off the ground.

He felt the nudge of Veris’ cock against him and drew a breath, letting himself relax, letting Veris in. Veris pushed inside and it was…good. Hard, heavenly. Oddly familiar.

Veris’ hand curled around Brody’s cock and stroked as his own cock thrust again.

Brody clawed at the cover. “Harder.”

“I won’t last.”

“I don’t care. Not this time.”

“Then we agree.” Veris lowered himself over Brody, resting on his elbows. There was a shallow furrow between his brows. “This is too pleasurable to last much longer.” He lifted Brody’s thigh and began to ram into him in hard, heavy strokes.

It was exactly what Brody wanted. He grabbed the back of Veris’ head with one hand and his shoulder with the other. His canines had extended again. There was a roaring in his head, growing louder as his climax approached, no longer brought on by Veris’ hand, but by the pressure between the two of them and the rough chaffing of their flesh. It was all he needed, now, to tip over into orgasm.

As it hit, there was an almost overwhelming desire to lift up and bite into Veris’ neck with his fangs. Something like feeding, but not exactly like it. It was connected with his growing feelings for the man above him. Instinct was driving him, but Brody had fought long and hard against his vampire nature and he mistrusted most of the instincts that rose in him until he had explored them thoroughly.

This one, though, was blind and powerful. He fought it, his fangs brushing against Veris’ neck. He realized his fingers were digging into Veris’ shoulder, his hand holding Veris head in a vice grip, just like he would hold a victim steady for feeding, while his fangs brushed and stroked over Veris’ skin.

Brody forced himself to let Veris go. He fell back against the cover, his heart thundering. He forced his canines back. “What was that?” he muttered.

Veris rolled onto his side, leaving a few inches between them. “You were going to bite me. A permanent bonding.” His voice was neutral.

“A…permanent…” Brody licked his lips. “I assure you, I had no idea what I was doing just then. I’m not even sure I had any real control. I—”

Veris touched his finger to Brody’s lips. It was enough to make him fall silent.

“You really don’t know enough about your own nature, do you?” Veris said, not unkindly.

Brody rubbed between his brows. “Apparently not.”

Veris settled more comfortably on his side, propping his head on his hand. “You won’t like this analogy much, but it’s the best I can do. You know how—”

“What’s an analogy?”

Veris hesitated. “For now, don’t worry about it. It’s not important. But—”

“Only if you explain it to me later.”

“I will,” Veris said. “I promise.”

“So now tell me about this analogy I won’t like.”

Veris laughed. “Even uneducated, you keep up well enough. You’re going to be dangerous once I’m through with you.”

Brody felt a warm glow at the implications behind his words. “The analogy,” he prompted.

“You know how a wolf marks his territory? So that others won’t try to take it over?”

Brody scowled. “Is an analogy a way of comparing things? Because I didn’t try to urinate on you, which would make it a bad analogy indeed.”

Veris threw his head back and roared with laughter. When he had himself under control, he sighed. “You now understand what an analogy is,” he told Brody. “And you did try to mark me. You did it as instinctively as the wolf does. But something stopped you from actually taking the bite.” His smile faded. “You fought the instinct.”

“Yes,” Brody agreed. “If I had bitten you, how seriously does the vampire world take that marking? Would they consider you to be…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“Yours?” Veris finished the sentence for him soberly. “Oh yes, we obey these bondings in utter faith. They’re always instinctive. Not made in haste or consciously, where errors might occur. If you find yourself marking another, it’s because your vampire sense has directed you to make that other your permanent bond partner for reasons beyond logic or question.”

“You would have let me do it?” Brody said in growing wonder.

“You wouldn’t have let me do otherwise,” Veris corrected.

Brody sat up. “That is insanity! How could I know…how could my vampire instincts know such a thing, in such a short space of time?”

“It’s instinctive,” Veris said calmly.

“And you would have accepted that? You?”

Veris sat up. “You didn’t take the bite, Brody. The question doesn’t need to be answered.”

Brody sorted through that sideways answer. “You wouldn’t have liked it,” he concluded. “You wouldn’t have liked having the choice taken from you. You’ve been free too long.”

Veris smiled a little. “No, I wouldn’t have. But I would have accepted it. We must, if that is what happens. And in truth, yours is a bond I think I could wear without chaffing.”

“You think.” Brody stared at him. “You’ve never had a real master, have you?”

Veris frowned.

“You’ve always been for hire. Your own man at heart,” Brody concluded.

Veris shifted and faced Brody squarely. He turned his head, so that his neck, thick with muscle and sinew, was bared. “You want to take that bite, Brody? Take it. Now.”

Brody recoiled a little. “No.”

“In cold blood and in full judgment,” Veris insisted. “Take the bite.”

Brody grabbed Veris’ chin and wrenched his head around so he could see into his eyes. “No,” he said flatly. “I will never mark you, not even if my instincts are driving me blind with need to do it. You are your own master. I won’t take that from you. I know what it is like to be without it.”

He got up from the cover and headed back to the mare, picking up his clothes as he went.

Chapter Seven

“And?” Taylor prompted, when Brody paused.

“And what?” He grimaced. “It’s a story that extends for another six hundred years. How long do you want me to go on?”

“I don’t need huge amounts of detail,” she told him.

“Thank heavens for that,” he muttered.

“Just the basics of what happened. You can’t leave me hanging!”

Brody stared at her. Then he smiled a slow, wicked smile. “I hooked you,” he said. “I hooked you like a fish.”

She laughed a little. “Hell, yeah.” She wriggled on her cushion, trying to find a more comfortable position. “And that’s not all.”

Brody’s eyes narrowed. “I see,” he said, his voice growing thicker, heavier.

“Do you think…” she began, then cleared her throat. “I think you should stop wearing underwear immediately. Just hose and your tunic. I love the idea. I bet Veris would, too. He did the first time.”

She heard his heavy exhalation. “Come here,” he said softly, his voice thick with arousal.

“You should save yourself for Veris.”

“Fuck that. Come here.”

“What language is it you two are speaking?” said another voice entirely, from outside the tent.

Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth as a shriek of shock tried to escape from it.

It was Veris standing at the formal entrance to the tent, just beyond the thin white gauze, staring at them as they sat talking to each other in English.

“It almost sounds like Saxon, but not quite,” Veris continued. “I feel like if I listened long enough, I might actually begin to understand it. Yet there are parts of it so strange I know they can’t possibly be Saxon roots at all.”

“You’re right, they aren’t,” Brody agreed, standing up. He was naked, but he made no move to put on any clothes. Instead, he opened the tent flap and let Veris in. After a moment, Veris stepped through.

Taylor shrugged off the rendered tunic she was wearing and handed it to Brody. He slipped his arms into it but there wasn’t any way to keep it closed permanently, so as he moved the tunic gaped open, giving glimpses of his nude body.

Veris kept his eyes averted most of the time, but Taylor caught him stealing glimpses every now and again as they spoke.

“I could not help but listen to your conversation. It was…” He hesitated, looking from one to the other of them. “Forgive me, but even though the language was strange, some of the words were familiar enough for me to pick up a sense of your subject. You were being…frank.” He glanced at Brody as he said it.

Had Veris heard his own name among the gibberish? Taylor wondered. Even if he had, he may not have picked it up with their English accents, or even realized they had been referring to him. He didn’t know they knew his real name.

“You were not speaking Saxon, were you?” Veris pressed.

Taylor switched over to Saxon. “We would have sounded like this if we were speaking Saxon.”

Veris’ eyes narrowed as he studied her. “You have an almost perfect accent. You are not Saxon, though, are you?”

“No, neither of us is Saxon. We would not mislead you that way,” Taylor assured him. “Although, clearly, your own roots are Saxon, no?”

Veris nodded. “My family heritage goes back to when the Vikings first arrived in Britain in the mid-fifth century.”

“Are you talking about King Arthur?” Brody asked, resting an arm along the back of the chair. “Camlann?” His pose had the effect of opening up the tunic again. Taylor hid her grin.

Veris whirled to face Brody again. “You know about that?”

“I have heard about it. There was a crazy old man in Gwynedd where I was born who knew all the stories and told them over and over.”

“Who?” Veris demanded.

“What was his name?” Brody pondered. “Domhnall? No, that wasn’t it…” He shook his head. “I don’t really remember, I’m sorry.”

Veris drew in his breath at the mention of Domhnall, for that had been Brody’s father’s name, the official court appointed poet and bard to King Arthur. The Vikings had been particularly certain about making sure all Domhnall’s works had been burned completely, leaving no trace of Arthur to be found.

Veris stared at Brody, with the tunic hanging open, displaying just about all of his body while Brody stared back with an utter lack of self-consciousness.

“Who taught you to speak Saxon?” Veris finally demanded. He was shifting to safer ground…and shifting to the attack.

“You did,” Taylor told him. Which switched the attack back again.

Veris glared at her. “I did,” he repeated angrily.

“About a thousand years from now,” Brody added.

Veris continued to stare at Taylor. After a few seconds he turned and stalked from the tent, throwing the gauze aside with an impatient toss of his hand. He strode into the night without a backward glance.

Brody watched him go, his expression thoughtful.

“We’re not going to be able to tell him about the future,” Taylor concluded. “He’s too much a part of this culture. His mind can’t adapt. You’re just going to have to seduce him the old fashioned way.”

“We seduce him,” Brody replied, moving toward her.

“Excuse me?”

“I have to succeed, we know this. But he spent just as much time staring at you just then as me. I think he feels the pull of you now, just as much as he does in the twenty-first century, even though he’s mired in eleventh century thinking here. It may be that we must get him to commit to both of us after all.” He let his fingers slide over her collarbone and down over the slope of her breast in the light chemise. “I mean, look at you. What man with a pulse, even an undead, uncertain pulse, could resist?”

* * * * *

Veris rode until Brendan’s camp was far enough behind that the sound of his horse’s hooves would not be heard, then he stopped, slid off the animal and rested his head against the side.

What had happened back there? He had never felt more unsure of himself, more out of his depth and foolish than he had with those two. It was clear their educations far surpassed his and their breadth and depth of knowledge was staggering.

And too, there was their conversation he had accidentally stumbled upon, then shamelessly eavesdropped upon. He had only been able to pick up on the odd word or two. Brendan had sat upon that chair, outrageously nude, and spun his wife a tale that had involved two men. Two lovers.

Veris had been amazed to realize that Brendan was actually telling his wife such a tale. She had sat there in that incendiary, indecent shift, clearly finding the entire story far too much to her taste.

Well…it was his own punishment for listening. He had compounded the problem by barging in and demanding to know what language they were speaking. Such foolishness! They hadn’t scrambled to cover themselves in shame or make him feel more comfortable when he had invaded their hearth.

Instead they had managed to make him feel a depth of ignorance he’d not felt for centuries.

Veris closed his eyes, feeling a rare rush of blood to his cheeks.

The future!

That was when sense had reasserted itself and he’d managed to pull himself out of there.

Veris snorted against the side of the horse. The future.

But once more an image of Brendan’s naked body as he strode over to let Veris in planted itself in Veris’ mind. The surprisingly broad shoulders and the lean length of him.

The willowy suppleness of his wife, displayed without a shred of self-consciousness in that almost see-through chemise. Veris had been able to trace her rounded breasts beneath the fabric. The darker shape of her nipples.

His body hardened at the memory of both of them, with so much flesh on display and so much knowledge in their heads. They were a siren song to his heart and mind and body.

“God help me,” he groaned and shut his eyes against the images. But the images played on against the insides of his eyelids, teasing and tempting. Taunting him.

* * * * *

Taylor drew the cover off her bed and laid it on the ground, then slipped out of the chemise. She pulled Brody down onto the cover with her. “Make me call your name as I come,” she told him, spreading her legs and trying to guide him between them.

“You wanton voyeur,” Brody accused her as he settled between her thighs. He pushed his cock into her, deep inside. She could feel him stretching her.

She arched in satisfaction as his fingers stroked her clit in round, quick, masterful knowing strokes as he thrust inside her.

“I love your lives, every second of them,” she breathed as her orgasm began to bloom.

“You love hearing about how we fell in love without you, one thousand years ago? How we fucked ourselves stupid without you?” he said harshly, ramming his cock into her in massive driving strokes.

“Yes!” She rolled her head back as her climax hit and gasped.

Brody thrust hard two more times, his fists slamming into the ground by her head as his hips drove into her. He gave a gasping groan as he came.

She felt the shift, the tension in him. The predator had awoken. With a smile, she rolled her head to one side and bared her neck. His teeth pierced her neck with the sweet-sour sting she had grown used to. “Brody,” she whispered, her hand in his hair. “I love you.”

His teeth withdrew, his tongue laved the small wounds. His lips kissed it better. His hands soothed her and told her the predator had withdrawn. “You love even that part of us you can’t have? Our pasts?” He shifted his weight so that he was lying next to her. His hand lazily circled her breasts.

“All of you is all of you,” she said simply. “You wouldn’t be who you are without all that history behind you. Of course I love all of it. Of course I find it all fascinating and want to know about all of it.” She picked up his hand and kissed it. “If I find watching the two of you together exciting now that all three of us are together, why wouldn’t I find it exciting when it was just the two of you?” She put his hand back on her breast. “Just because I wasn’t formally part of the two of you doesn’t mean I get to put my feelings onto the back burner. I still get excited by the idea of the two of you doing wicked things to each other.”

She looked around the tent. “It must be getting late. It’s getting darker in here.”

“The campfires are burning down,” Brody said. “It should be about nine o’clock.” He turned her chin so that her face was toward him. “No envy? No resentment?” he murmured.

She smiled, knowing he could see more in the dark than she could. “God no, Brody. How could I resent what happened long before I was born? Of course I wish Veris had the same devotion for me that he has for you, but I’m beginning to understand why he developed that attachment and why I can’t share it, now you’re finally telling me this stuff. It’s taking the sting away.”

Brody sat up in one smooth movement. “Devotion?” he repeated, with a stunned tone in his voice.

Taylor laughed. She sat up and kissed him. “Devotion,” she repeated firmly. “I’m betting that after your night next to the olive tree, he was back…oh, the very next night. Probably sneaked into your tent in the dead of the night and sneaked out again before morning. Made love to you all night and left you like a limp noodle while he went off to kill Fatimids and build siege engines.”

Brody was silent for a second or two. “You’re scary,” he said at last. “Only I had to work the next day, too.” He turned his head. “Someone’s coming,” he said softly and reached for the tunic she had slashed. “Slip behind the panels and I’ll throw your chemise to you.”

“More firewood! More light! The Lord Toulouse comes!” The cry came from the north.

“Raymond is coming,” Brody said, as Taylor stepped behind the panels. Her chemise drifted over the top of the panels and she struggled to find the hem in the dark and slide into it. She had just arranged the garment properly when the slashed tunic folded over the top of the panel, too. There was more and more light as she dressed, as the fires and noise built as people woke and prepared for the arrival of Raymond of Toulouse.

She slid the tunic off the panels and slipped it on over the chemise and stepped out from behind the panels. She bent over the trunk where she had seen Mary drop the belt from the bliaut earlier that day and fished it out from among the unknown paraphernalia she found there. Hastily, she wound the belt around her waist twice and knotted it so it hung low on her abdomen as she had seen women in medieval illustrations do. It pulled the tunic in around her waist, which would have to serve as an emergency bliaut.

Brody was already dressed in a matching tunic and leggings. She ran her hand under the tunic until she reached the top of the leggings and found bare flesh.

Brody grinned. “It was faster that way,” he murmured.

“Liar.” She withdrew her hand as two knights stepped aside at the entrance to the tent and made way for a slender man with red-gold hair, a long narrow nose and one eye. He seemed weighed down with care and troubles.

He nodded at Brody, who bowed from the waist. “My lord.”

Taylor took her cue. She curtsied. “My lord,” she murmured.

“If you had sent word,” Brody added, “I would have been happy to have attended you. You did not need to stir yourself away from your wife and family at this time.”

“I wanted air, anyway,” Raymond said dismissively. “My wife blames me for this misfortune and I grow tired of listening to her accusations. She was the one who insisted on bringing the babe with us.” He shrugged. “Enough of the matter, I grow weary of it. Water is the need that brings me here, Brendan. The siege engines will be complete in three days, but we only have enough water to last for one, maybe two days. I want you to find some and bring it back to the camp.”

Brody inclined his head. “All the wells and soaks in the region were poisoned by the Fatimids in the city, when they heard we were coming. There are no local water sources.”

“Then you’ll have to range farther afield. We must have fresh water—and fresh meat, too. Add that to your list, while you’re out there.”

“Out in the desert,” Brody clarified, his voice flat.

“Yes. We’ll need you back by the third day.” Raymond inclined his head toward Taylor. “Lady Norwich.”

She dipped into a much shallower curtsey this time, her mind racing.

Raymond nodded at Brody. “Three days, Brendan!”

“Three days, my lord,” Brendan replied.

Raymond stalked out of the tent, his knights falling in behind him like a train. There was a call for more light, more torches, the calls gradually fading as Raymond headed north, back to his camp.

Brody gripped the post on the back of his chair, his head down, his eyes narrowed as he thought hard.

“When does Jerusalem fall?” Taylor asked softly, in English.

“The fourteenth, four days from now,” Brody said, just as softly. “As soon as they get the siege engines finished, the Fatimids surrender.”

“If you’re away from the city for three days, then you’ll have no time to hunt Veris at all. Once the city falls, he and Selkirk will be gone.”

Brody glanced at her. “I can’t defy Raymond. It’s the equivalent of a direct military order. Besides, the entire army here does need water.”

“This didn’t happen, the first time around, did it? You didn’t go out for water.”

“No.”

“We’re already changing the past,” she said. “How much is this going to ripple down through history?”

Brody gave a short laugh. “Can we save the philosophy for when Veris is around to chew over it? Right now, I have enough worries to make me want to throw up.” He pressed at his temples. “How the hell am I supposed to be in two places at once for the next three days? We don’t even know if this time jump will let us stay here for the next three days!”

Taylor stepped around him so that her back was to the light from the campfires, then tried to turn Brody so that his face was to the light. “Look at me,” she said. “Take your hands away.”

He lifted his hands away and blinked. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered. “Now I need to feed on top of everything else.”

“I think it’s that you need to feed because of everything else, but okay,” she said. She stepped away from him, knowing her pulse and heartbeat would make it worse for him now. “Go and feed,” she said softly. “Take care of that first. In the meantime, I’ll do some thinking.”

Brody’s chest was rising and falling. He was breathing too fast. His gaze skittered around the tent.

“Brody!” she called. She couldn’t touch him to gain his attention.

He blinked and looked at her. His eyes were widely dilated. The predator was loose. This creature, though, wasn’t interested in bonding. It was searching for food and she fit the profile.

“Go and feed,” she said firmly. “Now.”

He swallowed. Then he nodded and picked up his knife and pushed it through his belt. Wordlessly, he left.

Taylor shivered as he passed her.

When he had left the camp proper she stepped out of the tent and waved to the nearest page. “Find Mary and tell her I need her assistance at once.”

The page took off at a dead run.

* * * * *

Mary turned out to be a co-conspirator, once Taylor explained what she needed. Twenty minutes later, Taylor steadied herself on the horse that had been brought around for her, feeling that she was very high up from the ground indeed. All the riding lessons she had been taking just for these moments weren’t much use when the saddle, bridle, stirrups and other modern equipment she had been learning to use looked nothing like what she was faced with now. Nor had she been learning to ride while wearing the medieval version of formal evening wear.

But there were reins and she remembered one very basic lesson that the instructor drummed into her from the start. Your knees are one of the principal steering mechanisms!

Mary was waiting for her, seated upon a smaller gray mare. Taylor gave her a nervous smile. “I really don’t like horses,” she confessed.

Mary laughed. “You hide it well, my lady.”

Taylor gave the horse a gentle tap with her foot and it started forward. Mary kept up alongside her.

“You’d best show me the way, Mary,” Taylor told her. “I’ve been keeping to the camp so much, I’m not entirely sure where Selkirk’s encampment is.”

“Not to worry, my lady,” Mary said. “I know all the camps like the back of my hand.”

She edged her fat horse forward and Taylor’s trotted to keep up. Taylor could feel the warm night air lifting her veil. Soldiers and knights were watching them as they passed fires and tents, one encampment after another. They must have made quite a sight, for not every lord had brought his family with him. Only a very few women and their entourages of help and necessary support systems had made the arduous journey from more civilized climates.

Taylor in her formal wear and with her maid must be quite a sight for these lonely men. She was glad of the long knife tucked into the loop on her belt, even if it was on her right hand side.

Selkirk’s encampment was ablaze with light and activity, which made it an oddity among all the others, which were settling down for the night. Taylor was pleased it was so. She would not be an unwelcome disturbance, at least. But why would Selkirk be so busy when everyone else was lethargic?

Mary caught at Taylor’s horse’s bridle and brought her to a stop when they reached the sentries. Thankfully, Taylor slithered to the ground. Her legs were shaking from having to hold onto the horse so tightly. Adrenaline was coursing through her. She made a mental note to practice a lot more with horses when she got back. Bareback, this time.

Mary was already standing in front of the sentries, her hand on her hip, the other holding both horses’ reins. “Make way for the Lady Norwich, my good men,” she said importantly. “She has need to speak to Lord Selkirk.”

Taylor straightened her clothing and moved to stand just behind Mary’s shoulder as she had seen Raymond do with his knights.

The sentries just stared at them.

Mary cocked her head. “Cheeky buggers,” she muttered. “Move, or I’ll have your bollocks!” she said, much more loudly.

“It’s rather late to be seeking an audience with anyone, my lady, don’t you think?” The voice came from dark shadows, but Taylor knew it was Veris. She knew his voice so well she would recognize it anywhere. He stepped into the light thrown from nearby fires to stand behind his men. He crossed his arms. “Forgive the caution my men are showing, but at night we must watch for assassins. I know you will be familiar with that term.”

“Of course. Lord Selkirk has been threatened, then. It explains the light and the activity.” She tapped the knife on her belt. “This is the only weapon I carry. My maid carries none. You may escort me directly to Lord Selkirk and escort me back to my horse. Will that satisfy your need for caution?”

“What is this fuss, Will?” came a low, contralto feminine voice, that seemed to be both full of laughter and full of sexual promise at the same time. Just the sound of it made the fine hairs on the back of Taylor’s neck stand up and sent a ripple down her back. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation at all.

Like Veris, the woman was lingering in the shadows, but she was using them deliberately and didn’t reveal herself. The first glimpse Taylor caught of her was a long-fingered hand that slid over Veris’ shoulder possessively, before curling around and stroking his neck.

He didn’t move. He didn’t shrug off the hand. He didn’t respond to it either.

Then the rest of her emerged into the light.

She was tall. Tall enough that standing next to Veris, she only had to rise on her toes a little to slide her tongue along his neck and into his ear as her hand continued to stroke the other side of his neck.

It was a form of greeting, Taylor realized. An intimate greeting.

The woman turned to study Taylor, her greeting done. With a small start of surprise, Taylor realized the woman was wearing chainmail, hose and a tunic, just like a man. She even had a sword strapped to her hip. Everything was scaled down to her proportions. Everything was in Selkirk colors.

She had blue eyes. They weren’t like Veris’ though. Her eyes were almost completely colorless, like a washed-out summer sky, punctuated by the iris. It gave her eyes a hypnotic quality. Her hair was raven black and woven in one long braid down the center of her back.

Taylor fought down the sensation of dismay building in her.

Only a woman of high importance in the Selkirk household could arrange for themselves tailored clothes with the Selkirk colors. And male clothing?

If she and Veris were lovers…

Taylor realized she had let herself stare for too long. She pulled her gaze away from the woman, who was beginning to smile with a self-satisfied expression that made Taylor’s skin crawl.

“I seek a few minutes of Lord Selkirk’s time,” Taylor said. “I was explaining to William that I am happy to be escorted under arms if it makes everyone feel more secure and comfortable. I am no assassin.”

The woman turned to Will. “I will take her.”

Will shook his head. “The assassins have you on their list, too.” He was speaking softly, but not bothering to lower his voice too much because he thought no one would understand him but the woman. Taylor battled to keep her face expressionless as she found herself translating the words almost automatically in her mind. Except for the word “assassin” Will had used ancient Norse. He added, “There are too many spears out here tonight.”

Taylor leaned forward. “Who is she?” she breathed into Mary’s ear.

Mary turned her head. “Davina. Wife of Selkirk.”

Taylor kept her best neutral look on her face as the two turned back to look at her.

Davina scowled at her. “William will escort you to the lord,” she said and stalked away, her sword slapping her thigh.

The sentries stepped aside.

“Watch the horses, Mary. You really don’t want to come inside the camp.”

“I don’t think I do, neither,” Mary murmured.

* * * * *

Veris halted her about ten paces beyond the sentries. “I have to ask you for your knife, my lady.”

“Do you get to search me, too?” she asked, pulling the knife out of her belt.

“I will trust you for now.” He pushed the knife into his belt. “I think we both know I could slit your throat faster than you could withdraw any other weapon.”

“Finally, we are making some progress.” Taylor smiled at him. “And where do we find your worthy lord?”

Veris held out his hand, indicating the way. Taylor picked up the hem of her dress and carefully skirted around the chests, gear, ropes and pegs that might snag her clothes, while trying to look graceful.

“You look much more elegant now,” Veris observed.

“I know you like elegance.” She stepped over a sleeping man and moved on without comment.

“You dressed for me?”

“I would like to say yes, but I actually dressed for Selkirk. One honors the lord one visits, when one is asking a favor.”

“You’ve come to ask a favor?”

“Yes.”

“For your husband?”

“For me.”

Veris laughed.

“Where is the humor in that?” she asked.

“You’re a woman.”

She realized it was simply eleventh century thinking, but still found herself coming to a halt. “Like Davina is a woman?”

Veris halted, too. “That’s different.”

“Why?” Taylor dropped into old Norse. “Because she’s a vampire? Or because she is your lover?”

She heard his breath catch. Now he will try to turn the argument to attack, Taylor thought.

Veris scowled. “Are you jealous, perhaps? I saw your face when she touched me.”

Even knowing why he was doing it, his petty slash still hurt, because it was the truth. Taylor had been horrified, watching Davina’s lovely hands and lips touching Veris. It had made her sick.

“You were,” Veris breathed.

Then he glanced around quickly and straightened up, as if he had suddenly remembered where they were. “You are human,” he said flatly. “It’s not your place to question who we chose to take as partners. You have no claim over us at all. Didn’t your husband teach you this when he deigned to marry you?”

Taylor could feel her eyes stinging and blinked furiously. The last thing she needed was tears, right now. “If that’s truly the vampire creed at this time, I refuse to believe for a second that you follow it. It suits Davina down to the ground, but you’d hate it. You’re too warm. Too human.”

Veris looked deeply offended. “You insult me, madam.”

“Do I? Really?” Taylor held out her hand. “Give me your hand for a moment.”

Veris crossed his arms, looking wise.

“For heaven’s sake. You know you could snap my neck in one second. Give me your hand.” She shook her hand for emphasis.

He laid his hand with the heavy mail gauntlet in hers.

Taylor pulled the gauntlet off and handed it back to him. Veris’ hand was familiar and dear. She lifted it and stroked the palm. Then, delicately, she slipped her fingers between his and caressed the flesh along the sides of his fingers.

She heard his tiny gasp and hid her smile as she continued to caress and stroke the sensitive flesh there. She looked up and saw that Veris was watching her fingers with profound concentration, as if he was hypnotized. She lifted her fingers and beckoned. He leaned down. She reached up on tiptoe and like Davina before her, she slid her tongue up along Veris’ neck. But she followed the line of his tendon and concentrated on the hollow underneath his ear. Then, delicately, she slipped the tip of her tongue into his ear as she let her breath blow over it.

Veris shuddered.

Taylor stepped back. “It’s only because of warm relationships with humans that a human could get to know you and do that to you. I bet Davina never has, Will.”

He growled. It was an animal sound that frightened her and she cringed.

Veris grabbed her arm and hurried her through the camp. She could barely keep her feet and only had one hand to spare to hold up her dress.

He only let go of her arm when they were standing before a large tent and two more sentries. These were fully armed knights.

“Lady Norwich to see Selkirk,” Veris growled. His voice was thick and hoarse. Rage or arousal. Possibly both.

One of the knights slipped into the tent.

“Someone else will see you back to your horse,” Veris told her. “Here.” He held out her knife to her, hilt first. When she took it, he turned and walked away with no attempt at a formal farewell.

The knight returned. “This way,” he said, holding the flap open for her.

Taylor stepped inside.

It was bright with candles and quite hot, plus there was a lot of furniture. That was her first impression.

Selkirk was a middle-aged man with dark hair going gray at the temples. He was unusually tall for the times and had blue eyes that might have been called startling if Taylor hadn’t seen his wife’s eyes or Veris’ first. These eyes just looked ordinary in comparison, and tired. There were the beginnings of bags beneath his eyes, from either stress, lack of sleep or age. But he was once a handsome man and he was still attractive, with an air of command that came with age.

“Lady Norwich, this is…unusual.”

She curtsied. “I appreciate your time and your tolerance, Lord Selkirk. I have an unusual request and I’ve heard that you are a wise man and open-minded. I have hopes that you will listen to my request and help me meet my needs.”

Selkirk waved toward his big chair but Taylor had already learned that the big chairs were for the men. She demurred with a smile and perched on the little chest nearby. “This is…delicate.”

Selkirk gave a small laugh. “If it is a female matter, I am sure it is delicate.”

“It is political, actually. But it is hard to explain.”

Selkirk lifted his shoulders a little. “Plain words are often the best.”

“Then if you are not offended by plain words, I will use them. That will be easiest for me.”

Selkirk lifted a single brow. “If you are able to use plain words, then please do.”

Taylor settled her hands in her lap. “I want to borrow your man, William, for three days to assist my husband while he goes in search of water and food for Raymond’s forces.”

Selkirk sat very still for a few seconds. “Well,” he said at last. “I would not have wagered on that outcome.” He stood and pushed his big sleeves up his arms. Taylor got the sense that he was falling to business. “William is one of my most reliable knights. Why would I deplete my forces by lending him to another for three whole days?”

He was looking for compensation. But Taylor had none to give. Only Brody as the Lord of Norwich had any real money in this time and she didn’t want to drag him into this.

She was going to have try a different sort of coinage. “I would have thought,” she said carefully, “that you might like to have William removed from your household, even for a while.”

Selkirk’s eyes widened. “Very plain spoken indeed,” he muttered. He stalked to a table next to his chair and poured a mug of wine and drank deeply. Then he studied her. “Let us agree that it would be to my advantage to have William gone for a while. It still depletes my fighting forces. That is no lie.”

“There will be no fighting for at least three days. The siege engines won’t be ready for at least that long,” Taylor countered. “In the meantime, the knights you have can take care of any skirmishes.”

“You are an astute woman,” Selkirk responded. “However, it still leaves the question of why you want William’s services for this search for water.” He sat back on the big chair.

“Why do my motives have to be a part of the bargain?” she demanded. “You would not ask this of a man.”

“True,” Selkirk replied easily. “But as I have the commodity you seek, you must fall in with my conditions. Yes?”

Taylor seethed. “Yes,” she replied, as sweetly as she could.

Selkirk’s smile was broad. “I heard that you kissed him.”

Taylor drew a calming breath. “You heard correctly.”

She enjoyed seeing Selkirk’s eyes widen. “You do not deny it?”

“It was a greeting. A gesture. The French—the Normans—do it all the time. But of course in this camp where boredom has driven everyone to invent games and fantasies, a simple kiss of greeting becomes something wicked, instead.” She smiled at Selkirk. “I have heard the same rumor myself, at least three times. Each time it becomes more exaggerated. Next, they will have it that my husband and myself are trying to seduce your captain or something silly like that.”

Selkirk actually blushed.

Taylor spread her hands. “My husband and I are familiar with William’s past and his expertise. He knows the lands around here and the ways of the desert dwellers. He will be an asset on our search for water and food. That is the sum total of my motives in asking for his assistance. The reason I approached you instead of my husband is that I wished to surprise him with this arrangement, for he is feeling the strain of this assignment. I thought William’s company would be a welcome addition.”

Selkirk sat back and thought about it. “In the end all mysteries are so simple, aren’t they?”

“There has been speculation, then?” Taylor asked, feeling a touch of alarm.

“One or two questions, Lady Norwich. That is all. Your reputation is far from besmirched, let me assure you.” He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “It is an intriguing offer, my lady, but in all honesty the threat of the Fatimids is greater than my domestic troubles. I can’t risk sending Will on a trek into the desert that would bring no bounty to my men, simply to satisfy a personal gain.”

Taylor knew she had no authority to offer a portion of the water or food they found, either.

She was stumped. Then she remembered something Selkirk had said earlier and sat up.

“I’ll bet you for Will,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“A wager,” she re-interpreted.

Selkirk’s eyes narrowed and an eager expression crept into his face. Clearly, the troops on the ground weren’t the only ones suffering from ennui.

“How do we decide the matter?” he asked.

“There’s a game called Rock, Paper—I mean, Parchment, Sheers.” Taylor got to her feet and pushed back her sleeves.

Chapter Eight

Brody rose from his crouch in front of the fire as the hoof beats grew closer. They were at the far south end of the encamped Christian forces. To the south lay nothing but desert, so anyone coming this way was coming for the camp, the fire or the siege engine they guarded.

“Someone comes at great speed,” Alexander observed. His olive face was calm. He was a Fatimid, but a Christian and lived a precarious life constantly justifying his existence to anyone he came across. It had not surprised Brody to find Alexander working on the most remote fringes of the Christian forces. He was outcast no matter where he went.

“They’ll kill that horse, riding it at that rate,” another soldier murmured on the other side of the fire.

Somehow, Brody knew this was about him. He turned to face into the inky black night and waited.

It didn’t take long for the horse to appear, not ridden like that. Its forelegs climbed into the air in front of Brody as the rider yanked on the reins, halting it. Froth gathered at the bit and the inside of its nose showed red.

“You!” Veris roared, pointing at Brody. He jumped from the back of the horse, landing lightly in the sand, despite the height. He threw the reins to the terrified page who’d come running and strode over to Brody. His forefinger thudded against Brody’s chest. “I will have words with you, Norwich.”

Alexander rose gracefully to his feet. “I will give you the fire, my lord,” he said and bowed. “Until the morrow.” He turned to the others. “Come, come my friends. Let us find another fire and wine.” The others grumbled, but not very loudly. Veris’ anger kept their protests down to almost nothing. Alexander gathered them up and swept them away with quiet promises of more drink, more food, more laughter. They shuffled off across the sand toward the next campfire where there was a minstrel singing softly, leaving Brody alone with the heaving horse, a half completed siege engine and Veris, filled with more pent up fury than Brody had ever seen in him.

“I’ve had the devil’s own time finding you,” Veris complained. “Your men didn’t know where you went.”

“How did you find me?” Brody asked curiously.

Veris stepped closer. “Your scent, vampire. I’ve marked it now.”

It still would have been a hell of a task to track him. Brody’s search for sustenance tonight had taken longer and been more protracted than usual because of sentries and alert guards. He’d wandered farther than usual.

Veris’ hand trembled as he gripped Brody’s tunic. “How on earth could you marry that…that creature?” he breathed.

Ahhh. Brody wondered what Taylor had done, but at the same time he mentally kissed her. She had prodded Veris somehow and wound him up to the point where he had been shot like a bolt straight at Brody.

“Tyra is unlike any human you have ever met.” Brody kept his voice calm. Quiet.

Veris whirled away. “Humans!” He laughed, but it sounded tight, hard.

Brody caught his breath as he realized that Veris wasn’t just angry. He was aroused. Taylor had reached through his considerable defenses and touched him, strongly enough to send him running for the one person he thought he wanted.

Brendan.

Brody acted fast. Vampire speed fast. He grabbed Veris by the back of the neck and pushed him up against the half-completed siege engine. The wooden sides creaked as their combined weights tested it.

Veris groaned, his hands spread against the wooden wall, trying to press back. But he was too surprised to do much and Brody had his legs spread and the weight off his feet before he could balance himself for a counter move.

Brody pressed up behind Veris, leaning his whole weight against Veris’ back. His heart skittered at the familiar contact.

He snaked his arm underneath Veris’ and grabbed the man’s throat. Veris didn’t need to breath for a while, but he knew Brody could take out his throat with that grip if he needed to. It kept Veris locked in that position as solidly as with irons. He didn’t know that Brody would sooner tear out his own heart.

Brody closed his eyes. Their positions reminded him of so many other times and places. He pushed the memories away. Those memories were all at risk if he didn’t play this moment exactly right.

“You liked what she did to you,” Brody breathed in Veris’ ear. “That is what you will not admit to yourself. A mere human knows you better than you feel comfortable with and it’s driving you mad that you’re responding to her.” Brody reached under Veris’ tunic and heard his hard exhalation as Brody’s hand found his thigh. The thigh trembled.

“Who is she?” Veris breathed.

“Your future,” Brody told him. He found the opening in Veris’ braies and pushed his hand inside. “So am I.” He closed his hand around his cock. He wasn’t surprised to find it as hard as marble.

Veris groaned, his eyes closing. “Impossible,” he muttered. “I decide…”

“You will,” Brody assured him, stroking smoothly, the way Veris liked it best. He could feel Veris responding, the tautness in his hips, the gathering tension in his back. His breathing shallowed. His hands against the wood curled, trying to tighten into fists.

Brody’s own body was hard with excitement, his cock pulsing. So close, so close…

Abruptly, Veris pushed back with a roar of protest. Brody had let his grip on Veris’ throat relax and the bigger man reared back, pushing himself off the wall. It took upper body strength that few men, even few vampires, possessed, especially deep in the grip of direct and erotic arousal.

Veris moved with a speed Brody barely was able to follow. He spun, his arm slamming across Brody’s chest. Brody was dragged around in almost a complete semi-circle. His back slapped up again the wood.

Brody remembered to breathe again.

The speed at which their positions had been reversed… He’d always known Veris had been strong, but Veris had never used that strength against him in anger. Brody could feel the trembling deep inside him.

Veris’ eyes were inches from his. Hard. Unforgiving.

“I decide,” Veris said flatly. “Not you.”

“You’ve always had that choice,” Brody said truthfully.

The hardness, the anger in his eyes shifted. Puzzlement crept in. He leaned even closer. His face tucked into the nape of Brody’s neck. Brody heard him take a delicate sniff.

Veris lifted his head to look Brody in the eye. “You’ve fed tonight.” His voice was strained.

Veris always loved taking Brody when he was freshly fed, hot with new blood and vital with humanness. This younger Veris didn’t know that was what he was responding to now, but he was feeling the pull of it, anyway.

Brody tried to breathe around the restricting iron band of Veris’ arm against his chest. “I’ve fed tonight,” he confirmed, his voice low.

Veris’ canines descended. He growled deep in the back of his throat. The predator was rising.

Brody did the only thing he knew that was guaranteed to keep the predator at bay. He kissed him.

Brody could only move his head. Veris was the stronger one, even despite Brody having fed so recently. So he pressed his lips against Veris’ and it was like every other kiss they had ever shared. Brody felt like he had come home. He leaned into it, driving his tongue deeper, pouring his soul and heart into the man.

It felt right that Veris’ hand would grasp his hair and hold him steady. The barely-heard groan at the back of his throat made Brody’s body tighten and thrum even harder.

So when Veris gripped his wrist and sliced the knife through his hand, pinning it to the wall, Brody was shocked speechless. He stared at Veris as the man backed away, barely even feeling the petty pain of the knife.

“You and she are trying to bewitch me,” Veris accused.

Brody felt an insane urge to laugh. He shook his head. “You, a vampire, are concerned about witchcraft?”

“You pursue me,” Veris insisted.

Brody shrugged, even though it made his pinned hand hurt like crazy. He could feel blood running down his arm. “Of course. Are you so arrogant, you must only ever be the one to hunt?”

Something darkened and shifted behind Veris’ eyes. It alarmed Brody.

“I’ve lost my taste for this game, Norwich. Stay away, do you hear me?”

Brody desperately sought for words to claw this moment back, to reverse it. None would come.

“Do you hear me?” Veris demanded. He was moving away, leaving. The shadows of the night were swallowing him.

Reluctantly, Brody nodded.

Veris was gone.

* * * * *

Taylor heard the thud of a horse being ridden hard. At this time of night, it could only be Brody returning. She almost threw herself off the bed and raced out of the tent, into the moonlight and firelight, to see the horse halt with a spray of white sand. Brody saw her and focused on her. His face was grim and hard with some emotion she could barely process for the news pressing against her own heart.

He jumped off the horse and came straight to her, for which she would be forever grateful. No leisurely time with his men, orders, lingering jovial moments in this man’s world.

Taylor threw her arms around him the moment Brody was within reach and despite Brody being an absolute rock, he still staggered back a pace. His arms came around her, steadying them both.

“I lost the bet,” she told him. “I lost! God, Brody, I’m so stupid! How could I have thought I could play this and win? Just because I’m from the future. Now everything’s completely fucked up and Selkirk—”

“Stop, Taylor, stop,” he said, his hand in her hair. “You did beautifully. Veris came straight to me. I’m the one that fucked up.”

Taylor lifted her head from his chest. “What?” she said, puzzled and afraid.

Brody’s expression was wretched. “Veris came to me,” he repeated. He took a breath and opened his mouth to speak more words, but none came. He shook his head. “I can’t even say it.” He closed his eyes.

Dismay hit her in a hard, cold rush. “Oh, Brody. No.” She stopped herself from saying more by wrapping her arms around him again and just holding on. She could feel his trembling and his arms tightened in response.

She kissed his neck, the only part of him she could reach, tucked so tightly against him. She licked it.

He shuddered.

So Taylor did it again, lengthening the stroke of her lick and making her tongue linger.

Brody’s hand slid up into her hair and lifted her head, bringing her lips to his. He may have meant his kiss to be gentle, but it swiftly grew hot, hard and overwhelmingly demanding. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, stealing air, space and bits of her soul. Taylor gave them all up gladly.

Brody pushed aside her tunic robe and gathered up the hem of her chemise so that he could slide his hand beneath and cup her ass cheek. Taylor pressed back into his hand and ran her own hand down the front of his tunic. She wasn’t surprised to find him stiff and ready.

He lifted her with the hand under her ass and she quickly wound her legs around his waist.

“Hungry?” she murmured.

“I just fed.”

So he would be ravenous, she interpreted. If Veris had roused him in any way, he would be twice as starved.

He pushed the light tent flap aside and carried her inside, not just to his side, but through to her side of the tent. He lowered her to the ground and stripped off his clothes. Her heart raced as she watched his body emerge. His cock was hard, rising from his thighs like a rigid pole. The rest of him gleamed in the moonlight filtering in through the tent sides.

He removed her belt and tunic, leaving her in her chemise.

“Turn around and put your hands on the panels,” he told her. His voice was thick with lust.

Her heart jumped. There were so many possibilities if she did this… Obediently, she turned and rested her hands on the panels. Brody spread her ankles as wide as the chemise permitted, then swore and hoisted it higher up her thighs and spread her legs wider. She could feel the fine trembling in his hands. He was in a fever of need, but controlling it. Directing it.

She felt Brody pressing up behind her. His cock brushing up against her back. His breath caught a little at the contact. “I had him like this,” he said.

“Veris?” Her body tightened at the idea. “Did you reach around…”

“Like this.” His hand curled around her hip, slid down her thigh and dipped under her chemise. She found her breath stopping as Brody’s fingers curled over her thigh, caressing the inner flesh there. They slid up again, to brush against her clit. She moaned, her hips bucking at the contact.

Brody pushed his fingers farther along her cleft, sliding them into the creamy slick entrance of her vagina. He gathered moisture and brought it back to her clit.

Taylor tried to grip the panel with her fingernails, as her excitement level rose. Brody had placed her in such a way that nearly all her weight was pressing on her hands. She was at his mercy.

Brody pushed her chemise up higher, rucking it up under her arms to free her breasts. He tugged at the nipples, making her groan.

Then his hands lifted away from her altogether. Taylor could feel and hear her heartbeat in her temples and chest and head. Her clit throbbed in time.

“Brody?” she called.

His fingers slid through her cleft, from clit to anus, making her gasp in surprise and pure sensuous delight. She felt the cool touch of slick oil and her excitement spiraled higher.

His fingers toyed with her anus, spreading the oil and slipping inside, making her squirm.

“Hurry,” she begged.

“Why should I?” he wanted to know.

But his cock brushed between her thighs, heavy and hot, then pushed inside her, in slow hard inches, filling her, while Brody held her hips and ass steady, his thumbs stroking her flesh in delicate sweeps as he eased his way into her. When he was buried balls deep, he paused.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “As hard as you can.”

“Stroke yourself,” he said. “Come with me.” He began to thrust in the slow, hard thrusts she liked.

Taylor circled her clit with her fingers, absorbing moisture from her pussy and caressing Brody’s testicles as she did so. He gasped at the contact and she smiled as she began to massage her clit in hard little strokes to match Brody’s thrusts.

His hands slid up to her breasts and cupped them, squeezing her nipples between his fingers. The little pinching sensation sent sparks of pleasure rushing through her and made her nipples even harder and more sensitive.

“You’re so hot around me,” Brody breathed. “So tight.” He gripped the top of the divider with both hands, using it for leverage to drive himself even deeper inside her.

Taylor moaned as his cock pushed into her. Her climax hovered. “Harder,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he agreed. One hand dropped down to cover hers between her thighs. His fingers joined hers against her clit. He thrust into her again, another powerful deep stroke and at the same time, he made her massage her clit in quick hard swipes.

Her climax slammed through her. She gasped. “Brody!” Then she realized that Brody’s control was already disintegrating. His thrusts were speeding up. He was slamming into her. He was coming.

Taylor felt everything clamp around Brody’s cock, milking it, as her pleasure soared in sparkling waves through her.

Brody cried out as he came with a final thrust that buried him deeply inside her and grew still.

She could feel his heart racing, though. It matched her own.

Brody carefully eased the crumpled chemise from her body, supporting her, then lifted her from his own. He carried her to the bed and laid her on it.

Then he surprised her by lying next to her.

Taylor turned to him and held him. “You’re frightening me.”

Brody caressed her face. “I don’t want to.”

“Then you’d better tell me all of it. Quickly.”

* * * * *

Desert dwellers, used to picking out life from across the arid plains, would have seen the shadow that was Veris and moved on. He was motionless as he laid watching Norwich’s tent. He was far enough away that no mortal eye could see him, but he could see what was happening in the tent with perfect clarity.

He had watched everything, from the moment Norwich arrived back at the camp and his wife had greeted him so passionately, to the last tender moment Norwich had laid her to rest in the bed and then shocked Veris by lying beside her and taking her in his arms.

What had happened in between had been full of revelation…and release, too. Veris glanced down at his damp tunic. The release had been involuntary and caught him by surprise. He had never considered himself a voyeur. Not the sort who found pleasure in the act, anyway.

So Norwich enjoyed erotic pleasure with his wife that most men practiced together. What of it? Veris frowned, trying to dismiss the rush of pleasure the idea gave him.

But in a tiny corner of his mind, it sat there. A kernel of truth that wouldn’t go away. He faced it squarely because it bothered him.

He liked the idea because it had possibilities. He’d watched Norwich take his wife nearly the same way he’d tried to take him and that had been the source of Veris’ pleasure. Watching what might have been. Watching her pleasure. Being taken clearly wasn’t the humiliation he’d thought it would be. She had loved it.

Veris paused in his thoughts and examined the word. Love. The troubadour’s word.

That was the emotion that was most fitting for the way these two treated each other. They loved each other.

Veris studied the tent again. They were still talking. She was caressing him. Reassuring him? How a mere human could seek to reassure a male and a vampire Veris had yet to understand. Yet she was clearly the superior in the conversation at that moment and Norwich was accepting her reassurances.

She was making him feel better. Veris could see the change right before his eyes.

How interesting.

Veris got to his feet and dusted off the dry white sand of the desert and headed back for Selkirk’s camp. He had his own problems to unravel and now this intriguing puzzle to solve.

* * * * *

By the time Brody had finished relating how Veris had backed away from him and disappeared into the night, Taylor could understand why his heart rate was high.

She peered at his hand in the low light, looking for damage, but there was none. It had healed clean as usual.

“I’m sorry, Taylor,” Brody said softly. “I tried. You had such utter faith in my hold over him that I started to believe it myself. I think we were wrong. We never held Veris at all. He just chose to stay of his own accord.” He sighed. “I’m still not sure what went wrong.”

Taylor sighed, too. “I think I can shed some light on that. There’s a woman in Veris’ life and I don’t think she’s making him very happy.”

“A woman?” Brody sounded winded. “Do you know who?”

“Her name is Davina. I met her tonight. She’s vampire.”

Brody sat up. “Davina,” he said flatly, staring at her. “Oh, my fucking Christ.” He pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “She’s here?”

“She’s Selkirk’s wife.” Taylor sat up, too, puzzled. “You know her?”

“I know who she is. I mean, I know she’s Selkirk’s. I know she’s vampire. I even know she and Veris were together. But that was over. It was supposed to be over.” Brody scrubbed at his hair. “She didn’t come on the crusades the first time.”

“Why not?”

“Veris killed her, in France, the week before the pope called for volunteers.” He blew out his cheeks. “He found his freedom from her shackles that way.”

Taylor took a moment to absorb that. Veris had killed the woman, the vampire, who had been running her hands and tongue all over him tonight. Deliberately? In cold blood? “But why is she still alive now, then?” Taylor asked.

“Something has changed in the past. Farther back than right now,” Brody said. “Something in Veris’ timeline, I’m guessing.”

Taylor kept her mouth shut. She knew what that change was. Not the specifics, but the when, at least. She had been there.

“It could be something very small and it has rippled down the timeline enough to reach the point where he didn’t have the…whatever,” Brody mused. “The courage to kill Davina when he did in the original past. Now he’s got her like a slave collar and arm bands, destroying his soul a day at a time.” He sighed. “She’s pure poison, Taylor. There’s no softness about the creature, for all she looks like heaven in a bliaut—when she wears one. She had her hooks so deeply buried in Veris he was bound to her. She was destroying his free will and he knew it. For someone like Veris, it was the equivalent of death. Her death, or his, was his only way out.”

“But now he’s submitting to her?”

“He’s not submitting…yet. But he’s learned he doesn’t like control being taken from him and that’s why he backed away from me tonight.” Brody sighed again, heavily. “Now I see it. If I’d known about Davina… Well, it’s too late now.”

He picked up Taylor’s hand with the one that had been pinned to the wall by Veris’ knife. “Tomorrow I must leave in search of water. A three day quest that will take me as far from Veris as he wants. At least it won’t be a useless search. I found a man tonight, Alexander, a Fatimid Christian, who knows of an oasis about a day and a half from here that he thinks the Muslims missed. It will have water we can bring back. At least no one will die of thirst because of me.”

“Let me come with you.”

“It will be hard travelling. Hard even for a modern girl.”

“I would rather be with you than alone.” She threaded her fingers through his. “You’re not the only one who feels like a fool tonight.”

“What did you do?”

She shook her head. “I tried to arrange a surprise for you. It backfired horribly.”

“A surprise?” He kissed her hand, his lips nibbling along her wrist.

Taylor knew that disinterested tone of his. Brody would have it out of her whether she wanted to tell him or not. She gathered her courage and told him about her visit to Selkirk’s camp, how she had baited Veris, even how she had bargained with Selkirk for Veris’ services and the last desperate wager, using a contemporary version of rock-paper-scissors and how Selkirk had won two out of three draws.

“He laughed at me,” Taylor told Brody. “He enjoyed winning the bet and he laughed as he had me shown out. He was still chuckling as that woman passed me outside the tent with a superior smile. She walked into the tent and snapped the flap shut in my face.”

“That sounds like Davina, from everything that Veris ever told me about her,” Brody said. He kissed her fingers. “Your visit wasn’t a total disaster. You sent Veris straight to me. You reached past his defenses. We know now that he is vulnerable to you, just as we suspected.”

“But he rejected you.” Taylor wanted to weep. “And we won’t be back until the siege engines are almost completed. Even then, what if we get hauled back to our own time before we get back? I’ll be gone, your younger self will be left here with no memory of what we’ve been doing and wondering what on earth he’s doing in the middle of the desert looking for water, or whatever—”

Brody touched her lips. “Shush,” he said. “Shhhh…”

She swallowed back the rising panic inside her.

Brody kissed her. It was a soft, comforting touch of his lips to her temple. “We ignore everything but success because failure for us is unthinkable. We don’t compromise. We don’t let go for a second. Veris doesn’t get a choice on this either. As soon as we get back from finding water, we ramp up the seduction again. Both of us at full wattage. Veris won’t know what’s hit him and will have no idea which way to turn. He may not like the loss of control, but he’s going to have to accept the inevitable because we simply can’t afford to do anything but win on this one. We don’t give up until Veris gives in. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She stifled a sudden yawn.

Brody laughed. “That’s a signal even I can read.” He rose from the bed. “Sleep. I’ve got arrangements to make for the journey tomorrow, especially if you insist on travelling with us.”

“I do,” she said, snuggling down on the hard mattress.

“Will you let me make decisions for you?”

“You know I trust you,” she said sleepily.

She felt his lips brush her cheek. “Sleep, my beautiful Tyra.” He spoke the words in his native, archaic Celtic, which even Veris did not know. It was Brody and Taylor’s private language.

Taylor could feel herself smiling as she drifted to sleep. A happy note to end a dreadful day. Brody may deny it constantly, but the bard in his blood knew a thing or two about romance.

She woke to find Mary shaking her shoulder. Harsh sunlight pierced her eyes as soon as she opened them and she winced.

Then the noise registered. Men shouting and talking. Ropes straining, horses snorting and stomping.

“He said to wake ye when they were hitchin’ up the horses,” Mary said. “Bring ye food and get ye ready, so ye could get a good long sleep for the way ahead. You’re actually going with them, m’lady?”

Taylor nodded and opened her eyes again. The dazzling sun was shining directly into the tent and even the gauze didn’t not diminish its power. Only when someone stepped in the way of the early morning rays was there relief. She rolled over to face away from the east and sat up.

She clutched her stomach as the bed seemed to rock beneath her. Nausea swept her. Taylor swallowed as her mouth filled with saliva and her body flushed in heat. She did not want to vomit in front of Mary, who would instantly interpret the symptom correctly. So she breathed steadily, trying to stay on top of it, willing the sickness away.

Thankfully, it passed.

Shakily, Taylor turned to Mary. “You said something about food?”

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, Taylor accepted the reins Brody held out to her and deliberately copied the knights and soldiers around her who were accepting boosts from pages to hoist themselves up onto their horses. Just like the knights, Taylor was wearing chainmail, leggings, tunic, belt and a sword strapped to her side. Her hair was parted and braided in two long braids down her back, her only concession to womanhood. She wore leather gauntlets rather than mail gauntlets and a knife in her belt. She had also left off the braies, but wore the undershirt to save herself from scratches from the mail.

The chainmail was marvelously flexible, but she felt considerably heavier than usual and she was already sweating.

Brody was grinning as he watched her settle on the horse. It was a big stallion and twitched at her slightest movement.

“This is Goliath,” Brody told her. “He’s a trained war horse and as good as a third arm in a fight.”

“You put me on a war horse?” she asked, incredulous. “I thought the chainmail was pushing it.”

“We’ll be in enemy territory, Tyra. I’m not letting you put a foot there without all the protection I can devise. You’ll wear mail and Goliath will protect you in a fight. And you will do what I say without question if there is a fight. Is that clear?”

She bit her lip, remembering Brody as she had seen him in the first few hours of their arrival, yesterday—bawling orders at his men, splattered in blood, swinging his long sword. She would be in the middle of something like that, if they came across locals who wanted to fight them. She would be hopelessly, helplessly lost. “You make yourself perfectly clear,” she told him.

He nodded. “I want you to ride by me for a while. The men will think it odd. Women are supposed to ride at the back of the line with the wagons. However, you are the only woman on this expedition and I am the leader and I am fast acquiring a reputation for oddness.” He was smiling as he said it. “I want to watch how you handle Goliath. So come along with me now.”

She nudged Goliath into a walk alongside Brody’s big mount as they rode down a short line of men on horses and three big wagons. Two of the wagons were filled with barrels and the third was filled with gear.

“Two wagons of barrels to bring back water,” Brody said, pointing. “A wagon of food and a small amount of water to get us there and back, along with some camping supplies and not much of those. We’re going very light and lean because I’m trusting Alexander knows exactly where the water is and that I don’t have to wander the desert looking for it. We go there and straight back.”

“All these men are not just to haul water. It’s because we’re in enemy territory, right?”

“And because we must protect the water on the way back. We are not the only people who suffered when the Fatimids poisoned the wells here.” Brody brought his horse to a halt at the front of the line and Taylor tugged on Goliath’s reins. Her horse was marvelously responsive. He came to an immediate halt and she nudged him forward a few steps more.

A man about the same age as Brody in appearance sat upon a large chocolate mare, wearing the apparel of the Fatimids, except for the turban. He had close–cropped, curly black hair, olive skin and a full beard that was neatly trimmed. His eyes were black and alive with thought. Taylor knew this must be the Alexander that Brody had spoken about.

“Alexander, I present my lady, Tyra,” Brody said.

Alexander inclined his head. “My lady.” His gaze travelled over her. “I have heard much spoken about your beauty. Now I begin to understand why.”

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly uncomfortable with his scrutiny. Exactly how much could he see with his placid gaze? “Men far from home have too much time to talk among themselves,” she added.

“True,” Alexander agreed easily. “Yet one would expect their rumor mongering about a lady among them to center upon her more obvious…endowments. Yet they linger upon your beauty. Surely, that is a true compliment?”

Taylor could feel her cheeks heating furiously. Brody was smiling, enjoying her discomfort.

“Shall we start out?” Taylor suggested. “We are wasting valuable daylight.”

“The lady speaks,” Alexander said, with a quirk of the lips at Brody.

Brody’s smile broadened. He lifted his arm in a signal that was repeated down the line of men behind them, then moved his horse off at a slow walk. It was quite undramatic and after all the noise of preparation, almost silent. Only the occasional snort of a horse and the creak of the wagon wheels marked their progress.

Then there was a shout behind them and the thunder of many hooves. More shouts for Brody to wait.

Brody held up his hand again and came to a halt. He turned to look behind the long column of horses and gear.

So did Taylor, using Goliath’s rump as leverage to twist herself around.

There was another column of riders and horses and two more wagons, overtaking theirs. The column was shorter, with fewer riders.

Selkirk colors.

Were they going to compete with Brody for the water source?

Taylor sought out the lead riders, her heart suddenly racing.

It was Veris. No matter that she couldn’t properly see his face because of the visor, or the movement of the horse, or the adrenaline in her system making her shake. Nothing could disguise his size and no other knight Taylor had seen in Selkirk’s household had shoulders like Veris’.

He cantered up to where Brody and Alexander sat waiting, bringing his horse to an easy stop and pulled off his visor. He glanced at all of them, even Taylor. His gaze seemed to heat through her face, searing her flesh.

Veris was not a happy man.

“My lord has instructed that my men and I join you in your search for water and food. We are to bring back enough of both for the northern camps, as you are to do for the southern.”

Taylor felt a touch of admiration for Selkirk’s sense of politics. He wasn’t going to lend her Veris, but he didn’t mind looking like a hero to the rest of the Christian allies with a bit of careful rephrasing and the cost of a few more men and two wagons for a few days. As Taylor had pointed out to Selkirk, he gained by ridding his household of a troublesome domestic problem while there was no chance of any serious fighting, and now he gained an enhanced reputation among the allies, too.

Brody’s smile had disappeared as he studied Veris. “I’m sorry you have been saddled with a duty so clearly not to your taste and pulled away from the comfort of your camp.”

Veris snorted. “I’m not.” He slapped one gauntlet on top of the other. “Permission to file my men with yours, my lord?”

Brody blinked. Taylor knew that was his reaction when he was hiding surprise. It was the “my lord” that had caught him, along with Veris’ lack of distaste over being here. “Of course,” Brody said.

Veris pulled his hand out of the gauntlet and waved it. Behind him, the men he’d brought started to merge with the line of riders behind Brody and Alexander. The two wagons were maneuvered into position with the three already in file.

Brody lifted his arm in the signal to ride and began to walk his horse forward.

Alexander was riding on Taylor’s left and Brody on her right. Veris fell into place almost naturally on Brody’s right. He removed the other gauntlet and placed them both on the horse’s back between his thighs, holding the reins in place.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I do not know the fellow to your lady’s left.” Veris nodded toward Alexander.

“Alexander,” Brody said. “A Christian, despite his dress. I would trust him with my life.”

Alexander nodded toward Veris.

“This is Sir William of York, one Selkirk’s best knights,” Brody explained to Alexander.

“I have heard of you, Sir William,” Alexander replied.

Veris shrugged. “You are a listener. I imagine you’ve heard about all of us here.”

Alexander smiled. “Yes.”

“A collector but not a dispenser,” Veris added.

Alexander’s smile widened. “That would simply make me a conduit. One cannot collect wisdom if the knowledge is only passing through.”

“You’re a philosopher,” Veris concluded.

“I was, in my former life. I would like to be once more, if I can ever find peace.”

Their horses had taken several steps before Veris replied. “You were born in the wrong times for peace, Alexander.”

“So I am beginning to understand.”

The two of them exchanged glances. Veris grinned. Slowly, Alexander smiled. Taylor got the impression that somehow, Alexander had met with some sort of approval.

Veris sat back on his horse.

“You do not object to your assignment, Will?” Brody probed. “I thought, from the scowl on your face when you rode up here, that you resented the work most bitterly.”

“I did, until I saw your faces.” Veris didn’t seem to mind talking in front of Alexander now. “The column had begun to leave and you were clearly shocked to see me here.”

“Yes,” Brody said. “We were.”

Veris chuckled. “I spent the night and the morning thinking your lady had connived with Selkirk to have me put here.”

Taylor could feel the guilt swirling through her. She pushed Goliath ahead a step or two so that she could see Veris properly past Brody’s body. “I tried, Will. That’s exactly why I went to see Selkirk last night.”

Veris’ smile faded. “You tried?”

She nodded. “You know these lands and how the people live here. Your knowledge would have been so useful. I wanted to surprise Brendan with my thoughtfulness, as he didn’t appreciate this assignment any more than you did last night. I asked Selkirk if we could borrow your services for three days. He refused. I even tried gambling with him and lost.”

“Gambling?”

“A wager,” she amended.

“You wagered for my services?”

Taylor couldn’t tell if Veris was pissed or not. His tone was completely neutral.

“It was a last attempt to make this work for Brendan and I lost,” she said, confessing it all.

Veris was utterly silent. Taylor could almost hear him thinking it through. “He won’t give me to you for a favor, but he’ll use me to enhance his own reputation. Well, I knew the man was self-serving.” He stirred and looked at Taylor. “I thank you for your honesty, although I’m pleased you are such a bad gambler.”

“So am I,” Brody confessed. “It’s better this way.”

Veris parted his lips to say more and shot a glance at Alexander. He closed his mouth. He said nothing more that day that wasn’t perfectly polite until they had camped for the night and he found Brody and Taylor alone.

Chapter Nine

They had five wagons, three of them empty of everything but wooden barrels, which they used to make a large protective semi-circle on the other side of a huge set of sand dunes that would protect them from the worst of the night winds. The horses were strung out on lines behind the wagons and a guard set.

Brody defied normal security precautions and found a location for Taylor and him to sleep away from the rest of the camp, outside the wagon ring. He built a fire for them. Taylor spread her saddle blanket. That would be her bed for the next three nights.

She stripped the mail from herself and plucked the sweat-soaked undershirt from her chest. Then, unable to stand it any longer, she pulled the shirt off, too. Then the leggings.

She unbraided her hair and rubbed her fingertips through the stressed roots with a sigh.

Brody sat watching her with a half-smile as he tended the building fire. “I would give anything to have a camera right now.” His smile faded. “I know why you took it all off. I wanted to every day when I was first getting used to it. But you’re sleeping in it, Taylor. I mean it.”

She grimaced. “At least let me air-dry the undershirt, first.”

He nodded. “We can wait that long. It’ll only take a few moments in this climate.” He picked up the undershirt, walked over to the nearest wagon and spread it over the side to dry. He came back at a slightly faster pace, hooked up her tunic from the sand where she had dropped it and tossed it to her. “I’d put that on,” he suggested. “Veris is coming.”

She struggled to throw on the tunic, suddenly all thumbs.

Brody grabbed the hem and hoisted it over her head. She managed to push her arms through the sleeves as he yanked it down over her body. She was still pushing her head through the opening when she heard Veris say, “Your guard said to come straight through.”

Taylor pulled all her hair out of the neck opening and brushed it out of her face. Veris stood about ten paces away on the other side of the fire.

Brody turned to face him. “That’s because the guard has standing orders to let you pass at all times.”

“I see.” Veris crossed his arms. He was watching her adjust the tunic. “No matter what I interrupt?”

“That’s right,” Brody agreed easily.

Taylor dropped her hands to her sides. The tunic covered everything it needed to. There was no way it was going to look like anything but a potato sack on her. It was what it was. She gave up and turned her attention back to Veris and Brody instead.

“You stopped speaking this morning,” she said to Veris. “You were going to say something, but then you looked at Alexander and stopped. What was it?”

Veris licked his lips. “That is why I am here.” He came closer to the fire, but stopped on the other side of it. He looked at Taylor again. “Do you ever wear the proper clothing of a woman?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded stressed.

Attack, Taylor reminded herself. Attack the emotions. Keep him unsettled.

“I wore the proper attire to visit your lord. Did you enjoy that gown more than this?” She put her hands on her waist so that it was emphasized and the tunic was drawn in.

She heard his breath draw in. “No,” he confessed flatly.

Truth.

Brody stepped forward. “Come around the fire, Will. Don’t be a stranger. Neither of us is armed. Neither of us means you harm. I think you know that now.”

Will glanced at Brody’s big sword, planted blade first in the sand, next to the fire. He stepped around the fire and stopped two paces from their blankets. He was still armed, but his hands and head were bare.

He was studying Brody once more. “You set out this morning, knowing I would be left behind in Jerusalem. Why?”

“Those were my orders,” Brody said simply.

“Despite your lady’s failure to have me recruited to your task, you still went ahead as ordered.”

“Well, yes.” Brody frowned. “Was there another course you expected me to take? I don’t understand, Will.”

“You brought your lady with you,” Veris pressed.

“Tyra asked to come along,” Brody corrected.

Veris glanced at her. “Asked? You indulged her?”

“I wanted her with me,” Brody replied evenly.

Veris drew in a breath that even from a pace or two behind Brody and to one side, Taylor could see was unsteady. Brody’s quiet, truthful answers were not helping give Veris the vent he needed. They were acting like accelerant.

“Why go at all?” Veris demanded. “Why not leave her in the city to eat at me a bite at a time while you do as you are told? We both know she can do that.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “She has that power at least.”

Brody frowned. “Her name is Tyra,” he said flatly. “Or if Tyra is feeling very kindly toward you, she may let you call her Taylor, her true name. I’ll leave that entirely up to her.”

Veris’ gaze cut toward Taylor. “My apologies, my lady. It is a habit of speech. There has been one other “she” in my life of late and that one rarely deserves being fully named at all.”

He was talking about Davina, Taylor realized. She nodded her acceptance of his apology. She needed to let Brody control this conversation by keeping her mouth shut.

“I’m doing what I’m told,” Brody said, “because someone has to find the water for everyone to drink or we’re all going to die. It’s a simple equation, in the end.”

“You won’t die,” Veris pointed out.

“Everyone else will. Raymond told me to find the water. I’m finding water.”

“It’ll take three days at least,” Veris said.

“That’s right.”

“The siege engines will be built by then and Jerusalem taken.”

“I know.”

Veris looked Brody in the eye. “I will be gone, then. Back to Selkirk’s keep.”

Brody swallowed. “I know that, too.”

Veris stepped closer. “Yet you still go in search of water and bring your wife with you, the one person who might anchor me in Jerusalem for you.”

“You said not to pursue you,” Brody pointed out. Veris was barely a pace away from him now. Taylor could feel her own pulse rising just watching the two of them hover in this ages-old dance. She was afraid to move or speak in case she broke the spell.

“I expected you to ignore me,” Veris replied.

“I was going to,” Brody confessed. “After I got back with the water.”

Veris’ hand curled around the back of Brody’s neck. “Honorable intentions,” he murmured. “How irresistible they are.” He kissed Brody with slow, sensual thoroughness.

Taylor covered her mouth with her hand, holding in her gasp. She was so powerfully aroused by the sight of the pair of them kissing that she could barely stand still. But if she moved, they’d sense it. It was a wonder they couldn’t smell her arousal already.

Brody moaned softly.

Taylor pressed her hand harder against her mouth. Brody’s body was straining, aching for contact, but he didn’t dare press himself against Veris. The bigger man had to reach for Brody himself.

Finally, Veris drew Brody closer, his arm an iron band around Brody’s waist.

Taylor let her mouth go. The two of them were absorbed and oblivious to her. She should give them the fire and find a private corner somewhere else for the night.

She could feel herself smiling as she bent down to pick up her blanket.

Veris’ eyes were on her.

Taylor straightened. He was watching her as he kissed Brody.

Her heart rate zoomed into the stratosphere and she grew still again. What should she do? She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Veris’ eyes. This was the man she loved, the father of her child. Yet he was a stranger whose motives she didn’t understand and who frightened her with all the power and strength he wielded and could use against her because he didn’t know who she was or that she would die for him in a heartbeat.

In the end all she could see was Veris, the man she loved, kissing Brody, the other man she loved. She nearly wept at how close she was to losing that.

Veris lifted his mouth from Brody’s and ran his tongue along Brody’s neck. Taylor saw the flash of fangs and her breath stopped.

Veris had a grip on Brody’s head already. Now his other hand was creeping up to Brody’s shoulder. The classic biting position.

Taylor pushed her way through the sand a few steps and halted. What could she do? Veris was infinitely more powerful…

He was looking at her. No, not Veris, the predator in him. She could see the animal nature in his eyes, looking back at her.

His fangs extended fully and scraped over Brody’s neck. She could see Brody trying to move, but the hold Veris had on him was powerful. Unbreakable.

Taylor was aware that she was crying as she watched the teeth touch Brody’s neck, her tears running down her cheeks in scalding rivulets. She couldn’t save Brody despite sword, knife, mail, or horse. She was useless.

Veris was still watching her. His canines hesitated before they punctured Brody’s neck.

Taylor drew in a hot breath. Hope.

For long seconds they hung in that precarious balance.

Then in a blur of motion that told her Veris had used vampire speed, he let Brody go, stepped around the fire, climbed the sand dune directly behind them, crested it and was gone from sight.

Brody sank to his knees, his hands splayed in the sand for support.

Taylor hurried to him. “Up. Get up! Hurry!” She tried to lift him.

Brody stared at her, dazed.

“You have to go after him. Now! He’s left tracks in the sand, it will be easy to find him. He can’t go all night. Go after him. He’s completely vulnerable now.”

Brody reached up and touched her wet cheek, leaving a smear of sand behind. “I don’t understand,” he said, sounding groggy.

Taylor crouched down next to him and grabbed his face. “He was going to mark you, Brody. A permanent bond. Somehow, I got him to pull back. I don’t know why or how, but I did. He’s wide open, now.”

Brody straightened up and got to one knee. “I’m missing something,” he said, his voice stronger. “We figured Veris didn’t want to be tied.”

“No masters,” Taylor emphasized. “But he sees what we have. You and I. He wants it. He wants love. A sense of belonging. It’s what drew him to you the first time. It’s what he tried to claim just then. Equality. It’s why he keeps questioning the way you treat me.” She hauled on him arm. “Come on. Go get him. Go.”

Brody got to his feet. “You’ll be all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Go!”

Brody turned and followed the tracks Veris had left behind.

* * * * *

Veris found himself coming to a halt about a quarter of a league from the camp. Not far enough away to lose sight of the glow of the campfires above the top of the dunes but distance enough that he could no longer hear the humans. From here he could indulge in the petty illusion that he was alone in the world, even for just a few moments. He closed his eyes and let the peace the silent stars and the desert usually imparted, but tonight that quietness of the soul wouldn’t wash over him.

“Will.”

He turned to face the man who followed him and sighed. “What is your real name?”

“Brody.”

“Is that what she, what Taylor calls you?”

“Yes.”

Veris pushed his hand through his hair. “I was going to mark you.”

“I know.”

“I was going to mark you and I didn’t even know your real name.”

Brody stepped closer. “You’re being influenced by forces you can barely perceive right now. All I can tell you is that they’re not evil. This all works out, Veris.”

“Good Mary, Mother of God, you even know my name. How long have you known my name?”

“About a thousand years.” Brody cupped his cheek.

Fear circled through him. The only thing keeping it from tearing him apart was the calm in Brody’s eyes. It was like looking at the stars. “I haven’t lived for a thousand years.” It was all he could think of to say.

“You will. A thousand years and more,” Brody replied.

Veris veered away from that. It was more future talk. “I was about to mark you and I saw her face. She was crying. Real tears. For you,” Veris said.

“Taylor understands about markings. She carries mine,” Brody said. His voice was calm. “She knows they’re instinctive. She also knows I was a slave once and how much I would hate to be owned by another in that way again.”

Veris stepped back, breaking contact with Brody’s hand. “She stood there and watched and she knew that? But there was such…” He could barely bring himself to say the word. “Her face was filled with love,” he said harshly. “She was glowing with it.”

Brody smiled. “She does glow when she watches us.”

Veris frowned. “What?”

Brody picked up Veris’ hand. “You’re not going to understand more than a little of this, Veris. You’re a salty old bear and Davina has made you inclined to be suspicious, prickly and quick to mistrust people. Worse, she’s made you think there’s no such thing as love left in the world when your whole soul is crying out for it. You’ve been wandering this earth for six hundred years looking for answers and she’s messed you up so bad you can’t bring yourself to reach out for the answers when they’re staring you in the face. That’s why you wanted to mark me. Your instincts know the way. Your intellect is stymieing you. You managed to see past her once. You managed to find happiness that time. I really need you to try again because I love you and I want you back.”

Veris’ heart creaked. He stared at Brody, trying to make sense of the idioms, the implications. He knew there was something huge here that he could see if only he could push aside a few veiling cloths covering his eyes and think.

Then he properly saw Brody’s face and expression. The love there.

It was an echo of the expression that had been on Taylor’s face.

Brody loved him. He really did. There was no artifice, no hidden meaning. It was a pure, simple emotion. Genuine. Heartfelt.

All Veris’ concern over the motives of this pair dropped away. Yes, there were still meanings and intentions to be unraveled. Mysteries to be explored—too many of them to enumerate. And delicious first occasions to be experienced.

From the tightening of his body, he knew one of them would be now.

“Kiss me,” Brody whispered.

Veris was willing to obey that order. It was simple enough. He pulled Brody closer and took his time to really kiss the man. Not in anger or haste. But to taste him properly. Teeth, tongue, lips.

Breath.

“You smell of her,” Veris accused. It was like a fine layer hovering over the surface of Brody’s skin. But still he wanted to do it again. He slid his tongue between Brody’s lips and at the same time breathed his scent and her aroma, mixed with the smell of horses, sweat and sand after a day under the sun.

He was growing hard just by that alone.

The kiss grew more frantic, more direct. But still there was no contact between them except for their mouths and their hands on each other’s bodies.

Brody loosened his sword belt.

“Here?” Veris breathed.

“Why not?” Brody asked reasonably.

Why not, indeed? Under the stars, with the sand providing a smooth, white, rolling carpet that gleamed dully in moonlight, far from anyone or anything but each other.

Brody’s sword dropped to the sand almost silently, the sand muffling the impact. His hands immediately began to work on his tunic belt. He wasn’t hurrying, but he wasn’t stopping.

Veris’ excitement kicked up a notch. He dropped his hands to his own scratched and worn buckles. They came loose as they always did, as he had unbuckled them a thousand times before, but this time his hands shook.

His sword and belt dropped to the sand.

The night wind caught at his tunic, now it was loosened, and lifted it away from his hauberk.

Through all this, Brody’s mouth stayed in contact with his own.

When Brody removed his tunic and hauberk and undershirt, all in one swift overhead shrug, dumping them on the sand in an inelegant pile, he turned back to Veris quickly. His hand curled around the back of Veris’ head and brought his mouth back to Brody’s like he regretted the loss of contact.

Brody stripped the rest of his clothing without breaking contact again, then reached for Veris’ tunic. “Let me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Veris’ mouth. He was breathing hard.

Veris could feel the tension in his own body, the tightness of the impending release. This was beyond anything he had experienced in more years than he cared to recall. He was almost afraid of the coming climax. He nodded, trying to control his runaway heartbeat, astonished at the level of excitement that something as simple as being undressed produced in him.

Brody stripped him, a layer at a time, taking his time. He turned it into a feast of sensuality and by the time he was done, Veris was trembling so badly, he could barely stand. His cock was jutting into the night air, throbbing with need.

Brody, his own cock thick and upright, ran his finger along the length of Veris’, making Veris moan in desperate need.

Brody smiled at the sound and lowered himself to his knees in front of Veris.

That stole what little breath Veris had left. He exhaled with a shudder as Brody smoothed his hands up Veris’ thighs. A hand curled around his balls and cupped them. The gentle pressure was heavenly, but was eclipsed by the touch of Brody’s lips around his cock. They bumped over the ridge of flesh at the tip, then slid like a hard, gentle band around his shaft, farther and farther and impossibly farther, before drawing back up. As they came back toward the head once more, Brody drew his tongue like a pointed digit over the underside of the ridge of flesh, flicking at it.

Veris’ hips jerked hard and the cry erupted from him as he drove his fingers into Brody’s hair in a desperate need to strive for the peak that was suddenly upon him now. Never had he been pushed so fast, with such precision.

Brody gripped the base of Veris’ cock and worked his mouth over the head, giving Veris exactly what he needed.

Veris exploded in a hard stream of cum that seemed to work its way up from deep inside his toes, drawing everything from his belly, his balls, his essence.

Brody took it all, to the last drop.

When he released him, Veris sank to his knees. It put them very nearly at the same level. His chest rose and fell still. “You’re laughing at me?” he asked Brody, for the man wore a small smile.

Brody shook his head. “I enjoyed that. It was… In an odd way it seemed like the first time.”

Veris shook his head. “You must stop doing that.”

“Enjoying it?”

“Talking about a future I don’t know.”

Brody sobered a little. “If you insist. It could be difficult, though.”

“Why?”

“I have no past here to speak of.”

Veris took a few seconds to unravel that. Then he felt laughter squeeze his chest. “You jest. Surely. If you have no past here, then you mean you are from…”

Brody nodded. “The future.” He smiled a little. “Yours, actually.”

You will live a thousand years and more.

Veris’ heart thudded. “What future do you come from? What year? How old are you now?”

“You already know how old I am,” Brody reminded him, with a grin. “I gave you my birth year when we first met.”

Veris knew Brody had avoided the question deliberately. “So…the subjective details, but not the general.”

Brody nodded. “We think it’s safer that way.”

‘“We’?”

“Taylor, me…and you.”

Again, his heart hammered hard. Brody seemed so sincere, kneeling there in the moonlight. That was the problem. So Veris pushed on Brody’s shoulder until the man was sitting back on his heels. Brody, despite being leaner and shorter, was still solid and thick with muscle. It took effort to move him.

Veris pushed Brody onto his back on the white sand. “I would give an eye tooth for a vial of oil so I could have my way with you properly,” he told Brody. “But that will have to wait for the next time.”

“I’m glad you think there’ll be a next time,” Brody replied.

Veris hesitated. “You did not go to all this effort for a single dalliance,” he said finally.

Brody made an impatient sound. “No, Veris. I was expressing appreciation.” He pulled him onto his chest with an impatient sound. “Who wounded you so much you lost your confidence this way? The man I know would never have questioned me about a next time. He would have assumed it was his God-given right.”

Veris tried to pull away, but Brody was strong. Stronger than Veris expected, and on this matter he seemed to be determined to take issue. Veris shrugged. “I of course do not understand this. It is future related.”

Brody shook his head. “Bullshit.”

The word made Veris blink. He wasn’t entirely certain what it meant, but the force that Brody delivered it with gave him a good general idea.

“This is Davina related,” Brody added. “And something before that or Davina would have been resolved back in France even before the crusade started.”

Terror seemed to swamp Veris in one black cloud. He tried to tear away from Brody as it grabbed at his throat, but he was in the wrong position and had no leverage. Brody hung on, his arms like iron bands around him, until Veris lay quietly against his chest.

“You wanted to kill Davina in Normandy, before the crusade started,” Brody murmured. “And by rights, you should have. Something stopped you this time. Something in your past changed.”

Veris closed his eyes. Now he believed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Brody was from his future. He had to be. No one else in the world could possibly know these things. He didn’t understand how it worked. There were whole roomfuls of knowledge he needed to fully comprehend it all. But he knew Brody was who he claimed. His future.

He felt Brody’s hand on his face. Reassuring. “I know about her, Veris. There is no need to explain.”

Veris shuddered as something inside him seemed to shift and ease. He was even able to lift his head and look at Brody. The man’s eyes were completely without judgment. They carried, instead, the same patient understanding—no, the same love—as they had since the moment he’d turned from his wife’s arms to face him.

The shudder this time rippled all the way down Veris’ body. It made him aware of Brody’s naked length beneath him, pressed up against him. Brody still held Veris locked against him, but his arms were free.

Veris kept his gaze locked on Brody’s eyes and ran his hand along his flank, just above the line of the sand that cushioned him.

Brody’s eyes widened a fractioned. His cock stirred against Veris’ thigh.

Veris pushed his knee between Brody’s, separating his legs and giving him better access.

Brody’s breath hitched. It was a tiny sound, but rewarding to hear. Veris slid his hand between his thighs and stroked the stretch of flesh between balls and anus and was rewarded again with Brody’s gasp.

This was almost too easy. Brody was tense and ready to break as Veris had been.

Veris weighed Brody’s balls in his hand. They were heavy with promise. He slid his hand higher and closed his fingers around Brody’s wide cock. It was silky hard and throbbed in his hand, the veins pulsing with the life-force that sustained them.

He glided his hand up the shaft and claimed the head.

Brody’s hips jerked. The arm holding Veris against Brody’s chest fell away.

As Veris began to repeat the gentle stroking, he watched Brody’s face and absorbed that exquisite moment when lust took the soul, the heart and the mind. Brody’s eyes closed. His face emptied of all expression except that of a man caught in the best chase of all. A small furrow appeared between his brows.

It would go quickly, this time. It had to. Without the bedroom privileges of privacy, oils and time to learn each other’s paces and pleasures, Veris accepted that. It was also one of the joys of first occasions.

But for right now he could take from this moment a petty sense of mastery as he controlled Brody’s body and played with it. Simple pleasure, bereft of pain and fear, freely given.

Sweet joy.

Brody came with a hoarse cry, his back arching as his hips lifted off the sand. He pumped ferociously in Veris’ hand, his cum pooling on his stomach.

He lay panting, recovering. He put his arm over his eyes. “You haven’t done that to me in…too long.”

Veris shook his head. “Future talk.”

Brody sat up on his elbows. “Sorry.” He looked down at his stomach. “How on earth am I supposed to clean up without water or cloth?”

Veris shrugged. “You’ve never heard of a sand bath?”

Brody shook his head.

Veris stood up. “It isn’t water, but it is nearly as efficient.”

There was sand all around them, so they didn’t have to move away from where they were. They were already stripped. So Veris demonstrated the process of a sand bath, using handfuls of the fine white sand to scour away dirt and sweat.

He spent more time watching Brody “wash” his body than completing the bath himself. Then, when he rubbed the sand over his flesh, he found it too sensitive to handle the rasping of the sand. He had been aroused once more.

But Brody was drawing on his clothes.

Caution flooded him. Veris crossed his arms. “You’re going back?”

Brody jerked his head toward the moon, sitting low in the sky. “It’s late. Taylor will be worried. And if Alexander is right about where the oasis is, tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I need to make some arrangements before everyone wakes.”

Veris pummeled aside his impatience and tried to encompass the idea that a woman’s concerns should be taken into consideration. Clearly, the future was a far different world from now. It explained in part why Taylor was so outspoken and forward.

Brody paused, his hauberk in his hands. “Come back with me,” he suggested.

Veris frowned. What did that mean?

“To my fire,” Brody added.

Veris found himself suddenly breathing hard.

Such a simple statement. Such a complicated step to take. It would be declaring to everyone in the camp their relationship. By the time they returned to Jerusalem, word would spread.

Davina would find ways to make Veris’ life miserable, if not end it altogether for such a transgression. For such a betrayal.

“And what about your woman?” Veris breathed, trying to make it sound as derisive as possible.

“Taylor would welcome you with open arms. You know that.”

He could still feel the touch of her fingertips on his hands. Her breath in his ear. Her lips on his neck.

Soft sweetness.

Open arms.

Veris shuddered. “I’d die,” he said truthfully. Davina would see to that.

Something in Brody’s eyes withered and faded to nothing. Veris watched it happen, dismayed. He wanted to reach out, to try to amend the error he had just made, but knew it was too late. Besides, it was better that Brody misunderstand.

Brody buckled on his sword silently. He squared his shoulders. His gaze wouldn’t meet Veris’. “I must return.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Brody said bitterly. His gaze lifted to Veris’ eyes. The pain there was unmistakable and Veris recoiled. “You’ve not understood more than a handful of everything else I’ve told you, but now you understand this?” He pushed his hand through his hair. “You know, you used to be the absolute best liar in the world, Veris. You could bullshit with the greatest. Straight faced, you could tell the most outrageous stories in the world. You could have sold sand to Fatimids and convinced them they were getting the bargain of the century. But you never, ever lied to yourself.” Brody’s mouth curled down. “Until now.”

He walked back down the dune without looking back.

But Veris was too busy trying to deal with the pain in his gut and his chest to care.

Chapter Ten

They reached the oasis just as the sun was at its zenith, which at this latitude meant it was directly overhead. It was frighteningly hot and dry and Taylor had never been so glad to see a pool of water in her life. But it wasn’t just the heat that made the oasis a retreat for her.

About half the size of a baseball diamond, the pool was shaded by palms and surrounded by grasses. Unlike many oases, this one sprang from a shallower source of water in rocks close to the surface, gushing and bubbling just at the surface in a continual renewal of the supply.

The overflow ran off in a narrow curving stream, channeled by rocks, for a league before drying out in the baking heat of the desert and being reabsorbed into the sand.

They had been warned ahead of time by Alexander to dismount and walk to the pool and bring back buckets to water the horses first. In this way they would avoid a stampede that would muddy the pool and make it useless for days.

Shortly after the noon hour, they had set up camp next to the oasis. Brody had declared they would rest there until the next day, while the barrels were filled and food found, before returning to Jerusalem.

It had been one of the few things he had said that day.

He had returned to the fire sometime during the night for she had found him there, his body curled around hers, when she woke at first light. But when she turned in his arms and begged him for details, a shadow touched his face. “Not now,” he said quietly. “I will tell you, I promise, but not now.”

“Did you make love?” she asked. “You can tell me that much at least.”

He hesitated. “Yes,” he said at last. But the single word was so heavy and flat, her heart fell.

She stroked his cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered, hoping she was right.

Brody rested his head against her shoulder and held her tightly. Surprised, she wrapped her arms about his shoulders and let him cling to her. If he had been human, Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised if he had wept against her. He was trembling.

After a while, Brody let her go enough to bring his mouth closer to her ear. “He’s not the same Veris. He is, but he’s not. I love him, but at the same time I miss him badly. I want him back and I’m scared hollow I’m going to fuck this up and lose him forever.” His hand touched her shoulder. “I know that’s selfish. I know you’re dying inside each day he’s gone, too. But this is all falling on me, because this other Veris won’t look at you even though he wants you.”

“I’d be terrified if I were you, too,” she said gently.

He laughed against her neck. “No, you wouldn’t. You’ve got courage for blood. You’d have defied Veris somehow last night. You would have made it work. I don’t know how you do it, but you always manage it somehow.”

Taylor shook her head. “I stood there and watched him bare his fangs against your neck. Do you know how much I longed for a sword in my hands? To have the sort of power you two do? I was helpless.”

“You stopped him anyway. It was you, Taylor. He told me so.”

She rolled away from him so that she could see his face. His black-eyed gaze was steady. He wasn’t lying.

“Then maybe there’s hope for Veris yet,” she suggested.

Brody drew in a sharp, quick breath. He sat up as if he’d suddenly been shot full of energy.

Taylor rose up as well and he kissed her. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d forgotten that. You’re right. There’s hope.”

Taylor clutched at her stomach as it rolled rebelliously. There was no time to hide it or even ride it out like yesterday. It was coming whether she wanted it to or not.

With a moan she scrambled for the cold fire pit, the chainmail jingling, and vomited into the ashes, hard and long, until her stomach was completely empty. Even before she was done, she felt hands pulling her hair back and a damp cloth on her forehead.

She fell back on her butt tiredly, gray dots floating across her vision and her throat burning.

Alexander wiped her face with the cloth, his expression concerned. Brody supported her back.

“Alexander knows eastern medicine,” Brody murmured. “He’s good.”

Alexander’s gaze flickered to Brody and back to her. “Are you with child, my lady?”

“No,” Brody said.

Taylor stayed silent.

Alexander’s expression didn’t change. “The food you western people eat does not carry well in these parts. It’s likely you ate something yesterday that had already begun to decompose.”

“I’m sure that’s all it was,” Taylor said. Her voice was strained. “I’ll be more careful about what I eat. Thank you, Alexander.”

He got to his feet and nodded. “Please let me know if I can be of further service.”

Brody had accepted the bad food explanation as the only possible one, which added to Taylor’s guilt. By the time she had eaten food that had passed Brody’s finely tuned inspection and climbed onto Goliath’s back, she was in a foul mood of her own.

It didn’t help that the tension between Brody and Veris was hard enough to bounce off. Alexander seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, rousing only to give the necessary directions to the oasis.

It was a relief to slide off Goliath and move away from the three of them when they reached the water. Taylor headed for the nearest patch of shade, laid down and went to sleep.

She woke to find her head pillowed by her folded-up blanket, her hands free of her gauntlets and her feet free of her shoes. Her belts had been loosened and her sword and knife were standing point first in the sand next to her.

There was a cup of water, too, along with fresh dates—probably from the trees around the oasis—plus more food that would have been checked over by Brody.

She lifted her head. Brody’s gear sat in a pile a yard away.

The shade had lengthened over her. It was close to sunset. She had slept the afternoon away. Clearly, her body had needed the restorative. But in the meantime, what had Brody and Veris done to each other?

Carefully, she sat up. Her stomach tilted, but that was all the protest it gave. So she ate the food and drank the water, consuming all of it mechanically despite a distinct lack of appetite and an urgent need to go in search of Brody.

While she ate, she gazed around the bowl of the oasis. There had been considerable progress during the afternoon. The three wagons of barrels were almost completely filled. The teams of soldiers were working on the last one now, sealing each barrel with hot wax to prevent leakage. Most of the men were stripped to the waist. Both Brody and Veris were overseeing the operations, each looking after their own wagons.

Alexander sat on the other side of the oasis, under shade. Observing, as usual.

Taylor tightened her belts and added the sword and knife. She made her way around the edge of the oasis, dodging the horses, until she reached the point where the run off created a happy-sounding tinkling stream that had carved a channel out of the desert and wound its way around bedrock for a league or more. She started to follow it.

At one point the stream dropped about three feet onto bare flat rock, creating a tiny waterfall, before oozing over the rock and continuing on into the desert. Or a miniature shower, depending on a modern perspective.

Taylor stared at the water, her skin itching.

“Screw it,” she muttered and stripped quickly. She took the knife into the water with her, laying it on the flat rock, close by her hand. But she unbound her hair and let the water cascade through it before sitting up and rinsing off.

“The sword isn’t much use if it’s not by your side,” Brody told her.

She smothered her yelp of surprised. He stood next to the pile of her clothes.

“I have my knife,” she said, holding it up.

“Not much use against a sword,” he said. “If I were the enemy, I now have your sword, which you left here for me to pick up.”

She bit her lip. “Damn.”

Brody grinned. “Shall I bring it to you?” He bent down to pick up her sword belt and pulled the sword from it.

“For all the good the blade does me, why not?”

He tramped across the stream to stand in the inch deep water in front of her and hold out the blade. “Sometimes just the offer to fight is good enough.”

“Good enough for what?” She took the sword and lay it down on the flat rock just at the edge of the water flow, where it was dry.

“Good enough to test their resolve. To see if they really mean it.” Brody stared down at her, his hands on his hips.

“Mean to fight?”

He nodded. “If you pull your sword—if you make the offer to fight and their hearts are truly not in it, they’ll take off running, leaving you the victor.”

Taylor was having trouble drawing her attention away from the proximity of Brody’s thighs to her face. The knowledge that he was naked beneath the tunic, that his cock was accessible underneath a thin layer of cloth, was distracting her. She licked her lips.

Brody smiled. “You’re not thinking about fighting.”

“Damn it, no. It’s all your fault.”

“No, it’s your fault. You suggested I not wear what I’m not wearing.”

She could see his cock pushing at the tunic, lifting it.

Taylor pummeled her attention back to the subject. “What if they don’t turn tail and run?”

Brody dropped his hands to his belt buckle. “Ah. Well, now you’re screwed. Now you have to fight him. You probably shouldn’t have picked on him in the first place.”

“Great. So I can bluff, or fight if I’m called on it.”

“That’s right.” He dropped his sword next to hers. The knife clattered next.

“I can’t fight with a sword.”

“Better stay by my side then,” he said. “Stay very close.” He pulled the rest of his clothes off in less than a minute. They flowed off him like water off a duck’s back, with more grace that she’d ever manage. He tossed them all onto the sand a bare yard away.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said with a sigh as his body emerged.

“That’s my line, isn’t it?”

She smiled. “Men can be beautiful, too, and you are. You’re perfect.”

Brody picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “You’re wet.” His hand cupped her ass, the fingers tickling her cleft. He kissed her, his tongue sliding gently inside.

“And you’re sandy…and hot, too.” Taylor touched his chest. “You’ve been out in the sun too long.”

Brody nodded. “I’m glad I fed when I did the other night, or I’d be very weak by now and feeding among this small group could be a problem.”

“Get wet. That’ll cool you off.”

Brody put her on her feet again and lay down under the tiny waterfall. He gasped as the water covered him. Taylor sat down and washed off the dust he had smeared on her and sat up and waited for him to finish his impromptu shower.

Brody came up from under the waterfall, laughing and shaking the water out of his hair.

“What?” she asked, smiling at his amusement.

“If you look at our location on a modern map, I think you’ll find we’re somewhere inside the borders of Jordan.”

“That’s what’s funny?”

He laughed again. “What’s funny is that it’s all your fault that I’ve started thinking about stuff like that. How maps change over time. Language. I’ve spent all these centuries resenting the hell out of time for being stuck with it. Now I’m finally starting to see how… I don’t know, how privileged I actually am to be able to see the changes first hand. Humans don’t get to see that. They don’t live long enough.” He sobered, his arms around his knees. “There’s a lot of things I love about you, Taylor, but for that one alone, I would give you immortality, if you asked me for it. It took me a thousand years and you, but I can see a way for it to be considered a gift, now.”

Taylor kissed him, trying to hide her tears. It helped that her cheeks were already wet. There was no answer she could give Brody that wouldn’t compromise her right now, or make her want to confess everything.

Then the kiss changed and grew erotic as their kisses so often did. It helped that they were both naked. Brody cupped her breasts and tugged on the nipples, making them hard. The little spurts of electric pleasure shot straight to her clit, making her gasp and her clit to bloom. Her pussy grew moist all over again.

She stroked Brody’s cock, curling her fingers around the massive shaft and felt his hips shift at her touch. She pressed her thumb against the seam on the underside and he jerked hard.

“Unfair,” he muttered.

“All’s fair.”

“That so?” He grabbed her hips and flipped her with his considerable strength, bringing her onto her hands and knees in the water. Taylor felt the touch of water on her wrists and calves, then Brody’s cock was pushing against her vagina. His hand curled over her shoulder. “All’s fair,” he growled and slid into her in a hard, smooth stroke that buried him to the hilt.

She gasped and may even have cried out. She wasn’t sure. All she was conscious of was Brody’s thick cock inside her.

Then he reached between her legs and found her clit with his fingers and began to pluck at it in time with his thrusts and in time with what his other hand was doing to her nipple.

“No, I’ll come too fast!” she protested between ragged inhalations.

“Come around me. Squeeze me,” he growled. “Scream for me.”

She hung her head, feeling the roiling climax already building from deep inside her belly. Her body began to shake. There was no putting it off. It was coming.

“Chríost. Veris,” Brody whispered.

Taylor lifted her head. Veris stood a dozen feet away. How long had he been watching? It didn’t matter. She could see he was caught up in their passion. The juncture of his thighs was swollen, his cock erect under his tunic. His hands were balled into fists as he stared.

Taylor lifted herself to her knees, letting Veris see Brody’s hands on her breast, and her clit.

Make the offer, Brody had said.

She dropped her hand to her breast. Stroked it. Cupped it. It was incredibly arousing to offer herself to a man who was like a virtual stranger in one sense, especially when she was being fucked by another and right on the verge of climaxing. She curled her arm around Brody’s neck, needing the support. Her body was trembling, moving in little shifts that matched Brody’s heavy thrusts up into her. He had not stopped.

“God, I’m coming, Taylor,” Brody whispered.

“Come,” she said.

He came with a choked groan and it triggered off her own delayed climax. She rolled her head back against Brody’s shoulder and closed her eyes as she cried out her pleasure in pulsing hard waves, made more intense by the fact that Veris was watching.

But when she opened her eyes, Veris had gone. She couldn’t stop the little moan of disappointment that spilled from her.

She still trembled when Brody slipped from her body and washed traces of himself away from her.

“He followed us here,” she said, trying to sound analytical and calm.

“Followed which one, is the million dollar question,” Brody replied.

“You, of course.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple anymore.”

“Why not?”

As he got dressed, Brody told her of his nighttime tryst with Veris and the awful ending. Taylor frowned, thinking it through as she carefully dried off and dressed, then strapped her sword and knife back into place. “He would have even less reason to follow me now.”

“He’s on a knife edge. Davina is fucking with his mind so much, I don’t know what he’ll do any more. He’s not the Veris we know.”

“But we still have to make him commit to you.” Taylor wiped at her eyes. “We have to get him away from that woman. He’s dying inside and he doesn’t even know it.”

Brody kissed her forehead. “Like you say. We’ll figure it out.” But he seemed distracted and for the rest of the evening around the campfire, even though he stayed within sight of her and Veris sat on the other side with his men, Brody’s conversation was stilted and vague.

Taylor challenged him on it. Brody frowned. “I’m thinking. Hard. Sorry, Taylor. I’m not good at mentally multi-tasking like you and Veris. I’ve got half an idea, but it needs refining before I dare even mention it out loud.”

Only half-satisfied, Taylor left Brody to stare into the fire and poke at it with a long stick for the rest of the night. Which left rather more time than she wanted to catch Veris’ lingering, speculative stares across the flames.

Taylor declared she was tired and going off to sleep far sooner than she was ready, after the day’s long nap. As a result, she tossed and turned on her blanket, listening to the men talk more freely than they did when she was among them. For that reason alone, it was probably better she not be at the fireside, so she resisted getting up and going back.

Eventually, she went to sleep, hoping the morrow would be an easier one and that Brody would not find the night too taxing in the meantime.

* * * * *

Brody waited barely ten minutes after Taylor left the fire to slip away himself. He caught Veris’ eye as he left and took the same route out of the oasis as they had last night, but didn’t go as far. He waited in a shallow hollow between dunes, where the air was still and warm.

It didn’t take Veris long to follow. He slid-walked down the side of the dune, his sword slapping his thigh. “You called. I come. What—”

Brody’s punch took him on the jaw before he was barely into the dell. It was meant as a sucker punch and it worked. There was no way to take out Veris in a fair fight. Not with his height, weight and reach.

Veris landed on his ass, but he didn’t stay there. He came up streaming blood from his nose, mad as a bull and swinging.

The fight lasted a few short, ugly minutes and ended bloody, as Brody had expected it to. Veris got him on his back and beat the crap out of him. Brody deserved it. But he had got his licks in and was willing to pay the price for daring to pick a fight with someone like Veris.

Veris got to his feet and let Brody painfully roll over onto his hands and knees, trying to figure out how to breathe through what was left of his face. It would take a few minutes for the healing to kick in to the point where he could see straight. He stayed, swaying, on all fours.

“There was a point you were trying to make, I presume?” Veris said.

Brody nodded.

“Do you feel you’ve made it?”

Brody nodded again.

“Really?” Surprise tinged Veris’ voice. Brody heard him squat down next to him. “Keep your chin up so the blood runs back down your throat. It’ll feed the tissues there and help them heal faster. Then you’ll be able to speak.” The tone was neutral. The words helpful.

Brody lifted his chin. In a few seconds he was able to clear his throat with a cough. Vocal chords again. Well, well. How many of these types of beatings had Veris gone through?

Veris was sitting on the sand now, his arms on his knees. “Can you speak yet?”

“I think so,” Brody said. His voice sounded strained. “Make that yes.”

“You were planning on explaining this, weren’t you?”

Brody nodded. He rolled over so he was sitting on his butt facing Veris.

“You don’t look pretty anymore,” Veris said.

“You never did.”

Veris’ mouth lifted at the corner. “At least I fight better than you. A product of a long life, that apparently you are more familiar with than I thought. Speak, Brody, or I will take great delight in taking apart what is left of your face again. You are trying my patience.”

Brody nodded. “I know. Thing is, I can’t explain it. Most of the time, when I hit a quandary like this, I used to talk it over with you. You’re the clear thinker. You could cut through a problem faster than anyone I know, except maybe for Taylor, but this is so much about her I’m not going to lay it out for her to fix.”

Veris stared at him. “In your future, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Brody squeezed the bridge of his nose and felt bones creak. His nose was healing nicely, but still felt swollen. “But it’s also about you, asshole. Your future self. Not you sitting there. Although it’s also about you sitting there.” Brody sighed. “I know you can’t follow this. We’re not giving you nearly enough information and that’s not fair for you and you can’t cope with the idiom or the cultural references either. But you’re all I’ve got.”

Veris was silent for a long moment. “I believe you may be underestimating my usefulness. I may lack knowledge, but I can reason as well as my future self.”

Brody pushed at his cheekbones. One was still broken. The pain of bones moving made him hiss. “And fight.”

Veris shrugged. “I learned early, apparently.” He shifted and settled himself in the sand. “A quandary, you said. There are very few true quandaries in the world.”

“I think I’ve got a real one on my hands.” Brody let his hands drop from exploring the damage of his face. “You rejected Taylor today.”

Veris drew a slow breath. Brody could hear it. In the stillness of the dell and with his senses all on hyper alert while he healed, he could hear the inhalation as clearly as his own breath.

“That’s what this is about?” Veris asked.

“No, but that’s what made me start thinking. Mostly, Taylor has been doing it up until now and I’ve let her because she’s good at it. But that kicked me into gear and made me start this discussion with a sucker punch. She didn’t say a word, but I know she didn’t like the fact that you walked away.”

“Most ladies would take that as a form of politeness, not an insult,” Veris growled.

“I keep trying to explain that Taylor isn’t like anyone you’ve ever met.” Brody scrubbed at his hair, which was full of sand now. He stretched his shoulders and heard them creak, then realized he was putting this off. “Okay, here it is. You’re not like the Veris I remember. You’re not like the Veris I love.”

“Understandable.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Brody said, thumping his fist into the ground. “There’s been changes. There’s differences. You’re not…right.”

Veris stared hard. Then: “You’ve been here before. To this…time. We’ve met. Here.”

Brody took a breath. “In Jerusalem.”

Veris rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Yes.” Brody found his hands curling into fists. “I love Taylor. I know you have the hardest time with that idea, but there it is. I love Taylor in a way you don’t understand. I love her as much as I love you.” Brody clenched his hands together. It was so important that Veris grasp this. “The other Veris—he would never ask me to choose between you. He would know I couldn’t do that.”

“I am demanding that of you?” Veris sounded curious.

“You’re going to. By rejecting Taylor today, you outlined the shape of things to come. There will come a time when you ask that of me.”

“You don’t know that,” Veris said softly.

“Yes, I do,” Brody insisted. “You are denying her. Denying yourself. You want her. Tell me you don’t want her. Tell me that and I will call you a liar.”

Veris drew in a breath to speak. But he didn’t speak.

Brody nodded. “There is something stopping you. It’s not just Davina, or you would have dealt with her already. Taylor and I don’t know how to fix it, because we don’t know what it is and you won’t tell us. You don’t trust us enough for that. We’re running out of time. All sorts of time, that you have no idea about. That’s why I must speak tonight, because you will ask me to choose between you and Taylor. It will come to that and when it does, I think…I really think Taylor will be my priority.”

“Your wife comes first, of course.”

Brody groan and clenched his fists to his temples. “Fuck, Veris, stop being reasonable! I love you. I love Taylor, but if you make me choose, I’m going to choose her! It’s nothing to do with being married to her! I’m not married to her at all! I’m bonded. She won’t marry me. She won’t marry you, even though you asked her.”

Veris sat forward. “I did?” he said sharply. “When?”

Brody winced. “Sorry, too much information. Forget I mentioned it.”

Veris held out his hand. “When did I ask her? It’s important.”

“Far, far into your future, as you currently reckon it,” Brody said flatly. He slapped the sand by his hip. “Are you even listening to me, Veris? Do you grasp the quandary now? I want Taylor, but to keep her, I have to keep you and I’m not even sure I want you anymore.”

Veris recoiled. “I’ve changed that much?”

Brody sighed. “Physically, you’re exactly the same, which makes it confusing. You sound the same, speak the same, walk the same. There’s so much about you that is the same that when I first saw you I was fooled. It took a while for me to notice the differences. They only show up when you’re put under emotional pressure. I’m guessing that’s not something that happens to you a lot these days. You’ve learned dozens of tricks in the last few centuries so you can avoid emotions, until Taylor and I came along and messed things up for you.”

“This other Veris of yours…he is a master at emotional pressure?” Veris asked, his brow lifted.

Brody shook his head. “No! Not even close! But he would never have walked away from us this afternoon. He would never make me choose as you are going to.”

“You are going to risk everything—the woman you love, even me, my future self—based on the assumption that I will absolutely force you to that choice,” Veris said softly.

Brody closed his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he begged.

Veris was silent for so long that Brody thought he would not answer at all. Then he stirred and sighed. “You already know how Davina entered my life, do you not? You have hinted as much.”

“She force-bonded you to her,” Brody said.

“The first night she met me,” Veris added.

“After she had chained you to the wall in her dungeon,” Brody finished. “Then came a night of sexual pain and torture. And every other night she chooses to call you to her. Sometimes she loans you out to other “masters”‘ too. All of them enjoy pain, all of them like blood along with their sex.”

“It’s been seventy-eight years next month,” Veris said. He sounded almost wistful. “You asked a curious question yesterday. You wondered why I didn’t deal with her in Normandy. How did you know I had been thinking about killing her? Is that what the other one did?”

Brody grimaced. But there was no ducking it now. “Yes,” he admitted.

Veris nodded. “You wanted to know why I didn’t. Would you like me to tell you now?”

Brody jumped. “Yes,” he admitted. This could unravel the mystery of Veris.

Veris took a deep breath. “In the country that would become Norway, around 460 A.D. I had a wife who I took into the woods one night for a tryst after a feast at the king’s hall. She disappeared that night. The village mourned the loss of my beautiful wife and said I murdered her in a jealous rage because the king favored her.

“They couldn’t prove anything. There was no body. So I was beaten, hung, whipped and smeared with excrement. I was thrown out of the village naked and with no weapons. The kingdom next to mine would have nothing to do with me, because that was the kingdom my wife came from, according to my sister. I had to travel under an assumed name and find work far abroad, with no references. I never saw my sister again. I lived off the land for months until I could start earning money enough to buy lodgings.” Veris patted the scars on his stomach. “Not all of these are from humans.”

“Bears?”

“Some. This all happened before I was turned, so the scars are a permanent reminder.” Veris grimaced. “Just in case I ever manage to forget.”

“What did happen to your wife?” Brody whispered.

Veris lifted his shoulders a tiny fraction. “I couldn’t explain to them what happened because I don’t remember a single thing about the day, my wife, or the feast. I remember nothing except for waking up beside a cold fire the next morning, naked, next to a pile of women’s clothes that Marit said she had given my wife—the woman I can’t remember.”

Brody felt a chill settled around his guts. Surely, if Veris and Taylor had gone back to that time, they would have told him? But, a whole day and night? Then he realized that this time jump had lasted that long already. So it was possible.

His sense of fear enlarged.

Why would they not have told him?

The truth hit him in a rush.

Veris would have been human. He wouldn’t have wanted to tell Brody, to tease him with a long-gone state that Veris had just enjoyed for a whole twenty-four hours.

Brody shuffled forward, closer to Veris. He cupped his jaw, looking into his eyes. “Did they describe your wife to you?” he asked. “Did you ask them?”

Veris snorted with derision, then his laughter faded as he really saw Brody’s expression. “I didn’t ask,” he said slowly. “They simply extolled her virtue and her beauty. Her ethereal qualities. Her glowing…” He licked his lips. “Her glowing skin and…” He drew a shaky breath. “Dark hair,” he finished. “Dear God, it was Taylor,” he concluded.

Brody nodded.

Veris put his face in his hands. He stayed that way for many long moments. When he looked up again, his eyes were dull. “Is it going to happen again, here? You will just disappear?”

“I won’t,” Brody said. “But Taylor will. You should be prepared for that. Even I will be…my old self. I won’t have my future memories anymore. You will go on knowing the little we have told you about the future, but I won’t know anything about it.” He tried to smile. “You can tell me about it. I promise to be stupefied.”

“And I will never see Tyra again,” Veris concluded.

“Oh, you will,” Brody assured him. “In time.”

“If I commit to you now.”

Brody drew a breath. “Yes.”

“But if I make you choose between me and Taylor, you’ll pick her.”

Brody held up his hand. “It’s not that black and white, Veris. You’re trying to dramatize, like you always do—”

“Yes or no,” Veris growled.

“I won’t pick one.”

“I’ll presume that your inability to directly answer means you are afraid to say yes, you’ll pick my wife over me.”

“Your wife?”

“She was mine before she became yours, no?”

Brody sucked in his breath so sharply it hurt. “Veris, for Christ’s sake—”

Veris’ blow was a sucker punch, just like his. No warning, no telegraphing. Unlike Brody’s, it knocked him clean out.

Chapter Eleven

Because of the inordinate amount of sleep she’d got, Taylor found herself wide awake just as daylight was creeping into the oasis. She was the only one awake, she suspected, and possibly the only human to watch the herd of ibex silently creep past the sleeping men and file down to the water’s edge to drink.

There were hundreds of the miniature deer-like creatures, with their long spiral horns and dainty noses. There were so many, they made the ground they covered look like a moving carpet of brown fur punctured with raked backed needles.

Food, Taylor realized, carefully rolling over onto her knees so her mail didn’t jingle. She reached for the bow and quiver of arrows lying nearby and picked them up. Moving silently on bare feet she crept to the edge of the reeds that lined the oasis on her side. The ibex were drinking on the other side and at the moment she was no threat, although they had seen her.

She planted seven arrows point down in the soft sand by her foot, strung her bow and notched an eighth arrow. Slowly, she raised the bow and sighted on an ibex that wasn’t standing in the water. Then she lowered the bow, looking at the animal. She wasn’t sure where to aim.

“The heart is just behind the front leg,” Alexander murmured, just to her left.

She jumped, swallowed a gasp. He was standing bare headed and barefoot, looking at them.

“So you do it,” she told him.

“I would, but I cannot use a bow,” he apologized. “Any other weapon would panic them. It is up to you, my lady.”

She took aim again, all her old high school lessons flooding back. She wondered if Mrs. Craddick had ever thought that her bellowed instructions about notch-and-release, breathe-and-relax would ever have been put to such use. Then Taylor let the arrow loose.

It flew straight and true. The bow was powerful and beautifully made. The ibex she had been aiming for staggered a little and dropped tiredly to the sand. Taylor honestly tried to feel sorry and sick for the creature, but she and the men and everyone waiting for them in Jerusalem would need this meat to survive. So she watched with a disjointed lack of passion as the ibex died.

Alexander was murmuring something.

“What?” she asked.

He blushed. “Actually, I was thanking God for sending us this much needed meat,” he confessed.

“Thank him for me, too,” Taylor suggested and strung another arrow. She lifted the bow and took aim.

She downed six ibex with her eight arrows. By that time the herd panicked and tried to back out of the oasis, calling out in their alarm. That woke the sleeping soldiers and knights, who realized that food on the hoof was among them and withdrew their knives and tried to capture some of the fleet-footed beasts, who began to jump and kick back. Dust rose and shouts. A few more were caught, but the six Taylor hit with her arrows were the bulk of the hunt.

The ibex were hung from palms and the process of skinning and dressing the carcasses begun immediately, before the heat of the day set in. The men gathered around Taylor, congratulating her on her marksmanship and level-headed thinking. There was admiration in their voices and faces.

But neither Brody nor Veris was among them.

Alexander held up his hand toward Taylor. “Behold, our Naila Fathiyya!” he declared. One or two laughed, but most of them looked puzzled. Alexander laughed. “In my language, it means she is the lady who conquers and supplies. Today she has truly done both.”

The soldier who guarded Taylor’s camp drew her to one side. “My lady, I ‘ave Sir William over ‘ere. ‘E wants a word wiv you.”

“Then let him pass, David. Didn’t my husband tell you Will was to be passed through at any time?”

“My lady, wiv all due respects, I don’t like the look of ‘im. ‘E turned up before the moon woz up last night demanding your time and I put ‘im off by saying you woz sleepin’. And now m’lord ain’t come back at all last night either. I’m not easy about it.”

Taylor licked her lips. “Are you saying Will has been waiting to speak to me since about eleven o’clock last night?”

“Aye, m’lady.”

“And he hasn’t got impatient? Or angry?”

“No.”

Then he was already angry and hiding it.

Taylor’s heart thudded. “You didn’t see my husband at all last night?”

David shook his head.

Where was Brody?

Taylor knew that putting Veris off any longer would simply fuel his rage. She smiled at David. “I’ll see Will. But David…hover nearby would you? Just in case?”

David saluted. “Yes, my lady!” He hurried around the wagon that was the nominal “door” to their quarters. He had barely passed it when Veris strode around it. Veris was moving fast. Too fast for human—he was being indiscreet. As he came closer to her, he pulled the knife from his belt.

Her adrenaline surged, but before she could do more than open her mouth and draw breath, he’d already swiped the tip across the hand she had brought up to defend herself.

The point of the blade burned across her palm. It was a shallow cut.

Veris stepped back, the knife held by his side. His chest was heaving. His face was red with the effort to control his fury and keep it at human levels.

Taylor turned her hand palm up to stare at the beads of blood. She looked at Veris again. Nausea was swirling through her. God, please let her not be sick here in front of this man.

Veris pushed the knife into his belt. “He wants you. I want him. You’re the problem, Tyra. Taylor. You’re getting in my way.”

She drew a breath, trying to stay on top of the adrenaline shakes. “At last. You see me as an equal.”

Veris blinked. She had surprised him. Good.

“You look depleted,” she added. “From the look of it, you’ve lost plenty of blood last night. Did Brody do that?” She held up her hand. “Would you like some of this?”

He sucked in a breath.

“Although the last time you tried mine, you lost control of yourself. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to eat me, or bond with me. Quite the schizoid dilemma you went through. You actually cried when you came back to yourself.” Taylor hated using that ultimate moment of vulnerability this way, but Veris would understand, later. She needed all the leverage she had right now. It was her blood dripping into the sand and Veris’ knife that had carved into her flesh.

“Vampires can’t cry,” Veris said, but his voice was hoarse. Doubt?

“They can when they’re pushed very hard and I’ve got you there once. Do you doubt I can get you there again?”

His knuckles whitened on the knife.

Attack, Taylor thought.

“It’s an interesting coincidence that you have the same name as my wife. My dead wife, from the fifth century.”

She felt her guts turn hot and churn. How had he figured that out? Did Brody know? Was that why Brody had stayed away all night? Oh fuck, oh God, oh hell…

Veris was watching her face. “It was you,” he said softly. “You were there.” He nodded. “I’ll let your husband of this time tell you what they did to me after you left me on the forest floor that night. I dread what you will do to my life when you depart this time.” He pointed at her. “You have done enough to my life, Tyra-Taylor-whoever you are. I don’t want you in it anymore. I have enough scheming women in my life. Leave me alone. Let me have Brody. You don’t need him. You clearly have means to prey on unsuspecting men elsewhere.”

Raw, dreadful pain ripped through her heart.

He stepped backward, clearly meaning to depart.

Taylor hurried forward. “Wait, Veris. Please.” Her voice was trembling.

Veris shook his head. “I have said my piece.”

“And I get no say at all?”

He hesitated.

That was all the time she needed. Taylor threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his cheek. She closed her eyes. This was Veris. He smelled the same, sounded the same. He used different words and reacted differently, but he had suffered a centuries-old hurt because of something she did and her guilt was enormous.

“I’m sorry, Väinämöinen,” she breathed and felt his shudder at the use of his name.

“I’m so sorry. If I had been able to stay until morning and save you from all that trouble, I would have. I don’t know how to control it. Time just takes me. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay in your arms and talk about love and about marrying you. I was so happy that night, you have to believe me.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes. She knew her own were tear-streaked, but there was no time to hide them. She knew she had a few short seconds to try to undo the damage she had done that night. Pausing to hide tears would rob her of precious time.

Veris’ face was stony, but his eyes told a different story. He was listening to her. Even though he didn’t remember the night itself, he was listening.

She stroked his face and tried to smile. “Rid yourself of Davina, Väinä. She’s evil and she’s making you unhappy.”

He drew in his breath. “Who are you—” he began.

She touched his lips. “I know,” she said simply. “Trust me in this. You love Brody, Väinä? You want him?”

He swallowed. “Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

“Then he is yours. I will make certain of it.” She paused to let her voice even out once more. “I love you, Veris. If that is what will make you happy, then that is what you will have.” She kissed him, not looking for a response. Simply a kiss goodbye.

Then she made herself walk away. She managed to get around the end of the wagon, out of his sight before her knees buckled and she fell forward and was comprehensively sick.

Alexander’s hands touched her back and her head, pulling her hair out of the way. He soothed her with soft sounds and words even though she was crying as she was sick.

“Taylor!” Brody’s voice, hoarse and strained, from a distance.

She saw Alexander’s boot kick sand over the pile of vomit she had produced. Alexander picked her up, sitting her farther away from the pile and looked at her hand, brushing sand from the blood.

“It’s shallow, but it should be cleaned and bandaged,” he decided.

“Boiled water,” Taylor told him, between hiccups.

“Taylor!” Brody called again, much closer this time.

“Of course, boiled water,” Alexander assured her, with a nod. He got to his feet and headed for the water.

Brody rounded the wagon and dropped to his knees in front of her. He was a bloody mess, his tunic smeared in dark, dried bloodstains from the knees upward. His face was covered in flaked and dried blood, but seemed whole and unbruised. His hands were the same.

Taylor stared at him. “Where were you?” she asked.

“I saw you confront Veris,” he said. “I was too far away—on the other side of the oasis. I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

“I mean, where were you all night?”

“Unconscious for a lot of it.”

“Veris did this?”

“He knocked me out then fed me a drug, I suspect, from the way I felt when I awoke…something I suppose Davina uses on him when she wants him biddable. I woke up around sunrise and walked back in time to see him take a swing at you and you talk him down.” He shook his head. “You have no need for swords. You’ve courage enough without them.”

She could feel her tears beginning to flow again and shook her head. “I’ve lost him. Completely and utterly this time. He knows about…” She sighed. “He suffered the consequences of a trip he and I made a few weeks ago, back to fifth century Norway, to Veris’ family. That was the key change in his past. That is what has made him so wary of women and hesitant about dealing with Davina. He was punished for my disappearance back then.”

Brody nodded. “I know. He told me about it last night.”

Her tears flowed. “Now he won’t have anything to do with me. He knows it was me back then. He thinks I did it deliberately and left him to suffer alone because I’m uncaring and cruel, like Davina. I’ve let him go, Brody.” She drew in a breath, trying to control herself and only half succeeding. “He’s yours now. I told him that. He wants you. I told him to be happy.”

Brody sat in the sand and drew her onto his lap. She let herself be comforted and cried her eyes out against his disgusting tunic, shutting out the light, safe in his arms.

* * * * *

Sometime after that, Brody cleaned her hand and bound it with the clean cloth than Alexander brought.

Alexander hovered but did not speak much.

“My taste for this place has soured, Alexander,” Brody said as he worked on her hand. “We have meat now and water. If we pack, we can leave in two hours. Is there somewhere we can camp a day’s travel from here?”

Alexander considered the matter. “We have the numbers, my lord, that we could camp where we found ourselves and be safe enough, and now we have the water, too.”

Brody nodded shortly. “Good. Let’s make it so.”

Alexander nodded and withdrew.

Brody kissed Taylor’s cheek. “I’m going to wash this blood off me, then see if there’s any possible way to discreetly feed.”

“I’d volunteer,” Taylor said softly, “but there could be all sorts of unexpected consequences.”

He shook his head. “I won’t risk using you, not here.” He glanced around, making it look casual. “I suspect Veris is off doing the same thing.” He smiled grimly. “It wasn’t a totally uneven fight last night.” His smile faded. “Then I’m going to talk to Veris.”

Taylor caught at Brody’s hand. “He thought I was like Davina. You can’t blame him for that. All along he has been looking at us and thinking you have been caught by a woman like Davina. Everything you told him about me only confirmed it in his mind and when he found out I was his wife from Norway, it was the icing on the cake. For Veris, the possibility of another type of women existing never occurred to him. Not in his world, or for him.”

Brody stared at her. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said at last and disentangled his hand.

Taylor bit her lip. “Be gentle,” she told him.

“Like he was with you?” he asked.

“He could have killed me or beaten me half to death. There are a dozen far worse things than this paper cut he might have done,” she pointed out.

“He delivered far more than just a paper cut,” Brody shot back angrily.

She looked him in the eye. “So did I.”

Brody’s mouth lifted in a smile before he could stop himself. Then he gave a laugh. “Atta girl,” he said. “Was he at least limping?”

“Mentally, anyway.”

Brody pushed his knife into his belt and picked up his sword belt. “Then I’ll go deliver the coup de grâce.”

“Veris is drawn to strength,” Taylor pointed out.

Brody winked. “I know.”

* * * * *

Brody brought his head out from under the tiny waterfall to find Veris watching him from the edge of the creek, his arms crossed.

Brody’s pulse shot skyward. He sat up, glancing at his sword and knife sitting on the rock next to the stream.

“You’ve fed,” Veris said. “I didn’t think both of us would get away with it in this tiny camp. We’re more creative than I thought.”

“Have you come to argue, fight or something else?” Brody stood up and snagged his clothes from the rock next to him. Normally, nakedness didn’t bother him, but he wanted every advantage in this conversation and he was vulnerable without mail.

“You have no need of protection, if that is why you’re reaching for your garments,” Veris said.

“Prove it,” Brody said.

Veris unbuckled his sword belt and dropped the sword on the flat rock at Brody’s feet, right next to the edge of the running water. The knife that usually lived in his belt—the knife that had sliced open Taylor’s hand a scant hour before—landed next to it.

Brody lifted his gaze back to Veris and was startled when the man continued to shed more. His tunic and boots. A knife that tucked into the top of them. His leggings and mail and undershirt and braies. A knife on a string around his neck.

Finally, Veris stood naked at the edge of the stream, his feet planted in the hot sand, a pile of his clothes next to him, his weapons at Brody’s feet.

“I am yours,” he said simply.

Anger tried to roil through Brody and fizzled out. “She was defending you, even as I left to find you and beat you again for what you did to her. She was crying her heart out and defending you.”

Veris drew a breath. “I think…I may have been wrong about her. But she wants me to be happy, and I need you.”

Brody’s heart jolted. “Why?”

“You’re the one piece of sanity and happiness that has come my way in decades. And strength. You have it by the bushel.”

“You beat the hell out of me last night.”

“We both know that is not the kind of strength I’m talking about. You were going to walk away from me last night because of a principal. A priority. Even though you know it will bring disaster upon three lives. I admire that. I love it.”

Brody hated that he was responding to Veris’ admiration. To his love. He wanted to hate him for refusing Taylor. But that was not why they were here. And they had delivered enough hurt and confusion to this Veris’ life already. If they pushed him further, it would be simple cruelty.

He was an admirable man who had done what he could with his life under extreme circumstances. Taylor was right. Veris had tried hard to overcome adverse conditions. It was a wonder he had not warped more than they had found him.

“You’re a good man, Veris,” Brody said softly.

Veris looked surprised. “I don’t think anyone has ever told me that. Not the way you mean it.”

“Come here,” Brody said.

Veris stepped into the running stream, which brought him within a foot of Brody and face to face with him.

Brody picked up Veris’ hand and rested it around the back of his own neck. “You’ve had more than enough of being dominated and possessed. This time, you take me.”

“But…you were a slave, were you not?”

“Much, much longer ago than you were.” Brody grinned. “Besides, I always like being taken by you.”

Veris’ eyes narrowed. “There’s a small matter of—”

Brody leaned to the side, reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out the small vial of oil that had been sitting in it since the first time they had made love. He placed it in Veris’ hand and raised his brow.

“Mine is bigger,” Veris scoffed.

Brody laughed. “No, it’s not.” He leaned forward the scant few inches between them, intending to kiss Veris. But before his mouth made contact, Veris pulled him the rest of the way forward with a hungry sound deep in the back of his throat. It startled Brody, but only for a second. His body tensed, then burned with sudden powerful need that raged through it. It was like he’d never tasted Veris’ lips before. Like this was the first time.

It may as well have been. Veris was coming to him openly, his defenses down. Brody knew he could do anything he liked with him and Veris would take it.

Trust.

It was the most powerful aphrodisiac Brody knew. He surged forward and their bodies met. His was wet, Veris’ was dry and dusty, but where they touched all demarcations ceased.

The heat in his groin rose.

Veris was kissing him like he could rip his secrets from him that way…or pour everything of himself into Brody in one intense, intimate gesture.

Brody felt himself sinking down. He realized Veris was lowering him, taking him down to his knees. He hadn’t even felt Veris’ hands on his body, such was the power of the moment.

His heart was beating of its own accord. He had no power over it right now. It was fully human, fully autonomic.

Veris’ fingers curled around his cock, which was painfully erect. Brody groaned. “Fuck me.”

“Yes.”

His hand was stroking. Brushing over Brody’s cock. Tripping over the head. Brody arched back, his hips jerking, thrusting upward.

He was being borne backward, his weight lowered down to the flat rock with its slim blanket of water slithering over the top. Veris’ mouth was on his belly, his hips, his cock, making him hiss in delight so exquisite it was almost painful.

The touch of oil and Veris’ fingers spreading it around his anus was almost too much for Brody’s hyped up senses to handle. He moaned, anticipating the possession to come.

“Patience,” Veris murmured.

Brody could barely contain his breathing. He laughed. It came out short and shaky.

Veris slid into him with slow, masterful precision, his blue eyes watching Brody’s face for every shred of reaction.

Brody didn’t try to hide anything. He writhed at the long anticipated moment and realized that even in his personal timeline, it had been weeks since Veris and he had made love this way.

“I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely. Honestly.

Something in Veris’ face shifted. He smiled and it was warm. As real as anything that Brody has seen since they had jumped here. “I believe you,” he murmured.

Then he thrust and Brody became incapable of words. He sank, instead, into the long slow dance of thrust and counter stroke, Veris’ hand around his cock, the wonderful buildup of tension in his balls, the heavy sounds of them both working toward climax, the groans, the male sounds so unlike sex with a woman that made it such an essential counterpart in his life.

His climax left him dazed, his senses reeling. He felt Veris straining above him, his murmured “Oh, good Christ, Brody…”

The touch of wonder in Veris’ voice put paid to the last doubts Brody had. No man who could wonder at his good fortune to experience pain-free sex could be evil.

* * * * *

Brody and Veris were the last of the head of the column to be ready to leave at the appointed hour.

Alexander was waiting at the head of his horse along with Taylor, while the rest of the contingent scurried around attempting to pack the wagons and their personal gear in the scant two hours’ notice that Brody had given them.

Taylor had a good idea where Brody and Veris were, but couldn’t answer the captains’ questions when they asked. She had to plead ignorance. She only hoped the pair of them didn’t arrive back from wherever they were together. That would fuel far too many speculations.

She was relieved when Brody arrived first, carrying a great bundle of gear that he threw on the wagon, before tramping through the sand to scoop her up around the waist and kiss her soundly on the lips in front of everyone. He looked fresh, rested and well fed. He also looked very happy.

“Thank you,” he murmured against her cheek. “You were right.”

There was no time to say anything more, especially as Alexander was watching. The Fatimid with his observant gaze absorbed far more than the average man.

She heard Veris growling orders farther down the line where his men were congregated, but schooled her face into a neutral expression rather than react. Brody, too, show no reaction. Instead he settled his sword into a better position and turned to Alexander. “Time to move out,” he declared. “I appreciate you being ready at the appointed hour, Alexander.”

Alexander inclined his head. “Your mood seemed to indicate that delay would not have been tolerated.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words.

“Nor would it have been.” Brody grinned. “I’m still more than ready to leave. There’s no reason to linger here any longer.”

Alexander inclined his head again. “As you wish.”

Veris strode up to them. “I believe it is long past time we left this place,” he declared. “With your permission, my lord,” he added, looking at Brody.

“As I was just saying,” Brody replied.

“The longer we stand around in this hot sun…” Taylor pointed out.

Veris scowled at her. But with the impression of Brody’s lips still making hers tingle, she could do nothing but smile back. It seemed to make Veris even more dour. He turned to the horse a page was holding patiently for him, his sword slapping his thigh. “We should’ve left at bloody sun-up,” he muttered. “Now it’s near midday and no mileage to show for it.”

“But a fat pile of carcasses, all the same,” she said brightly. “That was part of your orders, wasn’t it, Will? Meat?”

He glared at her as he shoved his gauntlet under one arm and rammed the other onto his hand.

“Sir William!” The peremptory demand for attention came from behind Veris. Even Taylor could feel her skin crawl with alarm at the strident determination in it. Alexander had moved back behind her, to climb onto his horse. Brody was even farther back, speaking to his captain, who was already seated and waiting.

Taylor turned. She felt like she turned with lots of time to spare. The man standing three paces from the head of the column was a tall, pale Fatimid. His eyes were showing lots of white. He was holding a long spear, aimed at Veris, who was just starting to turn.

The man took two steps forward.

There was no thought in it. No hesitation even. Taylor moved sideways, stepping between the spear point and Veris, who was vulnerable.

The man had been aiming for Veris’ heart. She was farther in front and shorter, so it caught her higher up the chest, just under her clavicle. The mail hauberk had, as usual, slipped off her shoulder because the neck was too large.

The spear point slid in sharp and hard—she felt it bite against the bone. Silvery pain shot through her.

She heard a gasp, soft and high.

Oh, that’s me making that sound.

The man holding the spear looked at her. “No, no,” he said, letting go of the spear.

The tip pushed upward inside her. She groaned.

Veris was holding her, lifting her up.

People shouting.

Veris speaking softly in her ear. “Not for me. Not for me.”

“If not for you, who else?” she said, puzzled. She closed her eyes. “It hurts.”

“I know.”

Brody. Nearby. She could hear his angry shouts. Threaded with panic.

“Veris.”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to pass out.”

“You must stay with us, my lady.” Alexander’s voice. His fingers on her shoulder.

“Can’t. Sorry.” It was rushing at her.

“Let her go. It’ll be a kindness for what comes next,” Veris said roughly.

Then something touched her cheek. “Sleep,” Veris told her. It was his hand on her cheek then.

She obeyed.

Chapter Twelve

Veris was still holding her when Brody returned, five minutes later. There was a haunted, stunned look in his eyes. From the limp angle of Taylor’s head, she had become unconscious.

Brody’s gut clenched.

Alexander was working on the bloody shoulder, his face expressionless. He glanced at Brody. “There is blood all over your tunic,” he remarked. “I presume it is Fatimid blood?”

“It’s English blood,” Brody said. He wiped his sword on his tunic, which would never see another wearing. He slid the sword back into its scabbard. He reached inside the neck of his tunic and retrieved the scrap of cloth he’d pulled from inside the assassin’s clothing. “We found that next to his heart.” He laid it across Taylor’s lap, where Veris could see it by glancing down. He patted Veris’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, Will.”

The strip of cloth was in Selkirk colors, with a Selkirk shield embroidered at the end of it, along with a stylized “D”. Davina’s household shield.

Alexander glanced at the cloth. “You have powerful enemies, William. Is that not the shield for the Lady Selkirk, the wife of your current master? Why would she wish to have her man parade as a Fatimid assassin and have you murdered?”

“Why indeed?” Brody muttered.

Veris shook his head. “Enough,” he murmured. “Let us take care of Tyra for now.”

Brody bent to take her from him. “There’s a wagon over here—”

“I will take her,” Veris said.

Brody stepped away. “Over here,” he said simply, pointing.

Veris turned and carried her toward the wagon without a word. Brody’s gut roiled as he saw blood drip from Taylor’s fingers as they trailed down behind Veris.

Well, justice had been mete. The man was as dead as it was possible to be. But he had died with regret on his lips that his duty to Davina had not been fulfilled and that was something Brody would fail to tell Veris for now.

Brody followed uselessly behind Veris and Alexander as they settled Taylor on blankets that had been quickly folded and set up as a temporary bed for her on top of the water barrels on the lead wagon. Alexander climbed up with her. “I will tend her,” he said, dropping a saddlebag next to him. “Leave her with me.” He tore the tunic open and was already unfastening the first of the buckles on her hauberk, as if Brody’s permission had been given.

Brody rested his hand on Veris’ shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said softly.

Veris jerked and tore his gaze away from Taylor. He seemed to process Brody’s words as if listening to them again in his head. He frowned, struggling to understand the idiom. Then nodded. “Yes, let us,” he agreed. He pointed to Brody’s tunic. “Your horse won’t let you near him.”

Brody swore. “A fast change and then we go, no matter what. We’ve been delayed in this place for far too long. I don’t care if we only get five miles today. I won’t spend another night here!” He headed for the wagon that held his gear, trying not to linger on the images in his mind.

The moment when she had taken the spear in her shoulder.

The soft sound she had made.

Veris’ desperate reach for her.

But the images played on like a YouTube video stuck on autoplay, making him re-live the sick realization over and over that he was too far away to do anything at all but watch it happen—and Veris, too.

They were both the most powerful creatures ever to have roamed the earth and neither of them had been able to help her. She had protected Veris, instead—a frail, mortal human.

Brody found himself leaning against the side of the wagon, his chest heaving, his eyes closed, struggling to hold in a pitiful cry of frustration and rage. And if this was his reaction, how was Veris handling it?

He threw on a fresh tunic over his mail, belted it and added his sword as he hurried back to the head of the column.

Veris was seated on his horse, his gaze straight ahead, waiting. Alexander’s and Taylor’s mounts had been hitched to wagons farther back. The captains, the next in line in the columns, stayed a respectful dozen paces back. That left Brody and Veris alone at the head of the column.

Brody threw himself up onto his horse, gave the “forward” signal and moved forward himself, setting a pace that was not quite a brisk walk. He glanced at Veris. “I keep seeing it happening in my mind,” he said, using Saxon. He wasn’t as fluent in it as Taylor, but he was good enough with it that it would keep their conversation secure. “I hate that I wasn’t fast enough to stop it, to help her.”

Veris glanced at him sharply. “Then you do not blame me?”

Brody felt his lips part as his jaw dropped open. “Good heavens, no! If there is blame to be apportioned, I will pass it all onto Davina with pleasure. Veris, for the gods’ sake, why would you think I would blame you?”

He was staring between the ears of his horse again. “You love her. It is because of me she lies on that wagon now.”

“That is all you can think of?” Brody asked harshly. “In all of this, you worry only that someone might blame you?”

Veris turned his head again. His eyes were filled with agony again. “Forgive me. I worry that this might jeopardize what I’ve just found. I’m being selfish. Taylor…” He drew a breath. “Taylor absolved me before she slept. I want to make sure you feel the same. I want her to wake and find the world is aright. She has given up much to make it so. I would not ruin her efforts. She deserves far more than that.”

Brody felt much like he had when once he had fallen from the curtain wall as a child and winded himself. The inability to breathe, because his stunned lungs would not cooperate.

“What are you suggesting, Veris?” he asked, when at last he could speak.

Veris shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said at last, in a whisper. “No one has ever done for me what she did. Not a human. Not a woman. And not out of…” He dropped his gaze.

“Out of love,” Brody finished flatly. “Say it, Veris. It doesn’t bite.”

But Veris fell silent and for the rest of the day his comments were innocuous and in French.

* * * * *

Taylor woke to pain and heat and the smell of dust that told her she was still in the eleventh century.

Relief trickled through her. She had been terrified that passing out from the wound would send her back to her time and she was in no way ready to return yet. It was so not the right time to suddenly disappear.

She looked up at the blue sky above. She was being jolted. The wagon, she guessed.

“Keep as still as you can, my lady,” Alexander said softly. “It is a delicate thing I do right now.” His head appeared above her own, his soft brown eyes narrowed, the brows drawn together.

“And that is?”

“I am stitching your skin and your flesh is so much softer than a man’s.”

No wonder she was in agony. “I’m guessing there’s no such thing as pain relief while you’re doing it, either, huh?” she said.

“Most men grip a piece of wood, or clench it between their teeth,” he suggested.

“Are you at least using sterile string?”

“It was boiled, as I know your insistence upon such things. I am going to stitch again,” he warned.

She felt the needle prick and thought, This is not so bad. Then it pushed through her skin and she felt it underneath. It punched through the other side of her already outrageously sensitive wound. Then, the worst came. She felt the string being drawn through the wound.

“Oh, God, Alexander,” she moaned, trying to sit up.

“No, you must lay still, my lady!”

“No, no, Alex.” She clutched at her stomach.

He caught her around the middle and hauled her with surprising strength over to the edge of the wagon. She retched hard, over and over, each time as she thought about the thread running through her flesh. Finally, she could be sick no more.

Alexander helped her lay down on the blanket pad once more and it was then she realized that she was almost topless. The tunic was torn open, the hauberk unbuckled at the shoulder and folded down. The undershirt also torn all the way down to her waist. Her left breast was bare, but covered in almost dried blood.

She shivered, suddenly cold.

“I must finish the stitching,” Alexander said gravely.

Taylor nodded.

He began again. Taylor swallowed, clutching the edges of the blanket pad. “Talk to me,” she begged.

“If you wish. What would you like to talk about?”

“Tell me about the wound, then. How bad is it?”

“As wounds go, I think you are very lucky,” Alexander said. “There were no organs that were touched. No bones were broken. Just skin, muscle, tissue. I cleaned the wound and now I am stitching it. When I am done, I will put a herb compress on it to increase the rate of healing. In a day or two, you can take the compress off and a day after that, the stitches, if you do not plan on being very active.”

“I don’t plan to be active, no. But my life has been unexpectedly active all on its own,” Taylor said.

“Then leave the stitches for another day or two after that,” Alexander said placidly.

She hissed as the needle tugged.

“My apologies, my lady,” Alexander said. He fell silent.

“Please, keep talking,” she begged.

“Most eastern masters insist on utter silence while one tends them,” Alexander said. “I am not in the habit of speaking while applying medicine.”

“Even an old dog can learn new tricks,” Taylor insisted.

“Yes, I admit that is a puzzle I have been trying to resolve in my own mind.” He fell silent again, but before she could prompt him, he began to speak again. She thought it was a change of subject. “The one caution we must watch for now, my lady, is fevers of the blood.”

“You mean infections?”

“Yes, you could call them that, I suppose,” Alexander decided. “They are what happen sometimes from wounds that aren’t correctly cleaned. Above all, this must not happen with you. You might survive such a fever, but your babe would not.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “Yes, I thought you had guessed,” she said softly. “That first day I didn’t say anything.”

“I am a doctor first and foremost, even though I cannot practice my craft in this new world I find myself in,” Alexander said gently. “There is a man called Hippocrates, an ancient Greek doctor, who is considered to be the father of medicine. Eastern doctors try to emulate his philosophies. He believed in the sanctity of the doctor and patient relationship. What we talk about I do not repeat to anyone, my lady.”

“I know who Hippocrates is,” Taylor assured him.

“You do?” Alexander seemed surprised. “Then I do not need to explain further.” He sat back. “The stitching is finished.” He lifted her undershirt back over her chest. “I will prepare your compress.” He hesitated. “I judge the child you carry to be about forty-two days old. Is that about right?”

“Forty-six,” she said.

Alexander’s gaze shifted past her head. “My lord!”

Taylor lifted herself up onto her elbows and turned her head. Brody sat on his warhorse, staring at them, the horse’s head almost grazing the side of the wagon. He had come up alongside the wagon, probably to check on her. Alexander and she had been too involved in their talk to notice.

Shock was written on Brody’s face. It was white as marble. He pulled his gaze to Taylor. “You’re pregnant?” he asked in English.

“Brody…” But there were no words there. Nothing she could say would undo this.

He closed his eyes and squeezed his temples with the finger and thumb of one gauntlet covered hand. “Forty-six nights ago I was in Vegas with the band. That’s when you went back to Norway with Veris.” He lifted his head to look at her. “Back to when he was human,” he said bitterly and pulled at the reins, turning the horse’s head.

“Brody, don’t leave!” she said quickly.

But he didn’t listen.

When Taylor looked back at Alexander, he was fussing with the herbs in his bag, pretending to be oblivious.

Taylor lay back down on the blanket and put her hand over her eyes to shut out the sun and hold in the tears. Her chest shuddered as she tried to stop them. But that made her shoulder spasm and just made her want to cry harder.

Alexander’s hand touched her arm. “Drink this,” he said. “It will soothe the pain.”

She eased herself up again on her good elbow and took the cup he handed her. Easing the pain sounded really good right now. She took a big swallow and gagged at the bitter taste.

“All of it,” Alexander added.

She nodded and tipped the rest of contents into her mouth and made herself swallow it. “How long does it take to work?” she asked as Alexander settled her back on the blanket.

“Not long. Close your eyes.”

She closed her eyes. It occurred to her that Alexander might leave her alone on top of all these water barrels while she had her eyes closed. She didn’t want to be alone. She opened her eyes again to tell him so and found Brody watching her.

“Brody.” Pure warm happiness washed over her.

He picked up her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Hey.”

There was soft whiteness behind his head and she focused her gaze behind him. “I can feel that we’re still on the wagon, but what is over your head?”

“We rigged up a cloth over the top of you. Alexander said the sun was bothering you.” Brody stroked her cheek. “It was only going to get worse as the sun got stronger.”

“How long have I been sleeping?” she asked, astonished.

“It’s late afternoon,” Brody told her. “We’ll be stopping soon for the night.”

She had slept the day away.

“How long have you been here?” she asked, struggling with the idea that a whole day could disappear just like that.

Brody’s shoulders lifted a fraction. “A while.”

“Watching me just lie here?”

Again, the tiny shrug. “And thinking.”

“You’re wondering why I didn’t tell you,” she guessed.

“I know why you didn’t.” He touched her hip. Hesitantly. Then, when she didn’t flinch or protest, he smoothed his hand across her belly. It was a possessive movement. “Veris doesn’t know yet. You couldn’t tell me until after you told the father.”

“You’re wrong, Brody. So wrong.”

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Then why?”

“I wanted to tell you both together.”

He took a massive breath that lifted his shoulders. His gaze dropped to her hand still held in his. “The day we jumped here, when you were asking about Veris. That’s when you found out, wasn’t it? That’s why you were suddenly anxious to track him down.”

“Yes.”

His thumb brushed over her fingers. “You should have told me when we landed here. Niceties aside. I could have protected you, made better arrangements—”

“Protected me more than you have?” she asked reasonably.

His head snapped up. “Look at where you lie!” he protested.

She reached for him. “Don’t do this to yourself.” She grasped his tunic with her good hand and drew him to her. He allowed her to move him, lowering himself down closer to her and carefully avoiding her injured shoulder.

Taylor brought his face close to hers. “This was not your fault,” she said carefully.

He rested his forehead gently against hers and closed his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered. “Don’t you trust me? Love me enough?”

Taylor stroked his hair. “It’s because I love you that I couldn’t tell you,” she confessed. “I thought… I knew you would be angry that it wasn’t your child, and you were, weren’t you? That was your first reaction, this morning.”

She felt more than heard his sigh. “I’m over it now,” he murmured and lifted his head. He kissed her and sat up. Strangely, he was smiling. “Any child is such a gift we’d all be sheer idiots to question the source.”

“But that’s not why you’re smiling, is it?”

He shook his head. “No.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “I’ve always thought that to you, Veris was the real man and I was just the gentle poet and singer. Most people don’t see me properly when Veris is in the room and I’ve got used to that. But you do, don’t you? You see me perfectly.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Taylor asked. “I mean, look at you. You’re magnificent. Beautiful, even when you are totally pissed.”

He grinned. ‘“Beautiful’ huh? People don’t call Veris beautiful. He’d take their heads off.” His smile faded. “It’s nice to have my male ego stroked occasionally. You just did, by being afraid to tell me I wasn’t the father.” He lifted her hand again and kissed the back of it. “My age is showing, I know. But that felt good.”

Taylor yawned suddenly. Hugely. She frowned as sleep tugged at her. “What did Alexander slip me, anyway? We should ask him for the formula. Patent it…back in…our time.” She yawned again.

Brody gave a soft laugh. “Sleep. It’ll help you heal. I’ll have the camp set up by the time you wake up next.”

“A soft bed…” she murmured.

“Done.” She felt his lips on her palm. The tickle of his canines. “I love you, Maggie Taylor Yates.”

“Mmm…” She wasn’t sure what she meant to say except it was a universal all-encompassing agreement. She accepted his love, she loved him back, love was all that mattered. Love followed her into sleep. This time she felt the sleep slip over her and let it.

She woke to a cool breeze on her skin. Night, she knew instantly. She was not on the wagon anymore. She sniffed carefully, listening to the sounds of a camp of men going about their business. There was a campfire quite close, crackling and popping quietly. Her shoulder ached. She lay, she thought, on more blankets, but these did not have the unforgiving ridges of water barrels beneath them. Just the ever present sand of the Jordanian desert.

“You are quite safe, my lady,” Veris said, next to her. “You don’t have to pretend to be asleep while you test your surroundings.”

Startled, Taylor opened her eyes. As before, a wagon had been pulled up to make a small private camp site for Brody and Taylor. It appeared to be the wagon she had spent the day upon, for the swathe of linen that had shielded her from the sun was still propped upon four spears thrust up between barrels.

There was a big cooking pot sitting on a rock next to the fire. Veris stood in front of the fire, making him a dark silhouette, his arms crossed as usual. He wore no sword that she could see from her prone position.

She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her.

Veris hurried forward, his hand held out. “Do not exert yourself,” he said. “The elixir Alexander gave you has worn off and now you will be in pain.”

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly, falling back on the blanket. Her shoulder was pulsing with black waves of agony that radiated through her body. Her head felt like it would split in two. Two small tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes.

She felt more than saw Veris kneel beside her. His hand hovered over her shoulder. “Will you allow me to look at the wound?” he asked. “I once trained with the ancient Greek doctors in Pergamum. I know how to treat war wounds.”

“I know that,” she said, her voice husky.

“Yes, of course you do,” he said, sounding vexed.

“There’s no need to ask my permission.”

“You of all people must say yes,” he replied, his voice low. “Brody has agreed. But you must also.”

“I agree,” she said.

Veris carefully pulled aside her bloodstained tunic. He swore softly when he saw the hauberk. “The mail is too heavy to leave in place over the wound. I will take it off.” He opened the buckles on her right shoulder. Taylor thought he would make her sit up, but he pulled the hauberk down her hips. With the clinical detachment of a nurse, he slid his hand under her waist, lifted her hips and pulled the mail down past her hips, then off over her feet. He dropped it with a hiss of links into a pile in the sand and came back to her side.

She realized then that he was wearing no mail of his own.

He picked up a cup—one she recognized. It was the small cup that Alexander had made her drink from that morning. “This will help with the pain,” Veris said. “It is the same mix as this morning, only weakened to one fifth of the power. You will not sleep. Brody seemed to feel that you would resist being forced to sleep again.”

“I would.” Taylor relaxed. “But pain relief would be welcome.” She tried to sit up again and Veris pushed back against her good shoulder, keeping her on the blanket. “You are a persistent woman.” He slid an arm under her back and lifted her enough to let her drink from the cup. When the cup was half-empty, he let her back down.

“The stuff works almost instantly,” Taylor told him. “This morning I went out like a…a candle.”

Veris folded back the undershirt over the top of the tunic. Like the tunic, the shirt was crusty with her blood. He carefully tucked it down only just enough to give him access to the wound and the bandages Alexander had tied over it, but that still meant that almost all of her breast was exposed.

Alexander’s concoction had already set in. Her pain seemed to lift off like a hot air balloon and drift away from her. It was still attached via a slender thread, threatening to reel in and reinsert itself into her body at any moment, but for now it floated off up in the never-sphere, where she could ignore it.

Taylor focused on Veris’ face as he leaned over her. His blue eyes were so dear to her. So familiar. Yet this man was an awkward stranger who was staring at her breast while he treated her wound.

Her skin was as blood-stained as her clothing and grimy after a day of heat, pain and sweating under the mail, but she barely cared. Taylor could feel the liquid, languorous heat of arousal rising in her. It didn’t matter that Veris couldn’t see all of her breast, either. That made it more exciting. He had only to peel the undershirt a half an inch lower and her nipple would be exposed.

The nipple tightened painfully at the idea.

Veris lifted the bandages away, then the compress that Alexander had applied. He touched the wound. It didn’t hurt.

“Good stitches,” he remarked. “Alexander did well.”

“I threw up when he was doing them,” Taylor confessed. Maybe if she kept the conversation on the disgusting and the normal, her body would cool down.

Veris laughed. “Your first stitches, I’m guessing.”

“Alexander said they were his first stitches on a woman, too.”

Veris abruptly sobered. For a fraction of a second, she saw heat in his eyes. Anger. Then an internal shield dropped down and his expression neutralized.

Taylor grew abruptly aware of Veris’ fingers touching her flesh outside the region of the wound. Accidental brushes. Tiny imprints of the tips of his fingers as he worked. Her skin was hypersensitive to his touch.

“There is no sign of bad blood,” he said. “But I want to clean the wound anyway, just to be sure.”

She nodded.

He rose and moved to the pot sitting next to the fire. There was a smaller cup sitting next to it and he dipped it into the pot and carried it back to Taylor. He soaked a cloth in it, concentrating on the task.

Silence was worse. Taylor cast about for an innocent subject. “How far from Jerusalem are we?”

“They figure we should reach the city by early afternoon tomorrow, if we leave at first light.”

She focused on his use of the neutral word “they”. It would have been Alexander who would have supplied that information, but Veris was not using his name. He had not liked the fact that Alexander, a man, had touched her. Taylor had reminded Veris of that by pointing out that Alexander had never had a female war victim before.

Was this jealousy? From Veris?

“Then good time was made today despite my slowing everyone down.” She was pleased.

“You?” He seemed surprised.

She sighed. “It wasn’t good military thinking, stepping in front of you that way. It slowed everyone down and made a late start. If we had been on campaign, or rations had been short, it could have been a critical blunder. No one said anything, but I know the men thought me foolish. There were other ways to deal with the man. Possibly dozens of them. I just reacted. I didn’t think. Not thinking can be foolish out here. I’ve read about it. I think even you have told me that, too.”

A great weight lifted from her as she finished speaking and she realized that this guilt had been with her all day, hovering in her sleep and the few short minutes she had been awake, making her deeply uncomfortable.

Veris paused in his work to look her fully in the eye. “Yes, it was foolish, if you are only thinking like a soldier. But you will always have my gratitude. Taylor…Yates. That is your name, is it not?

“You and Brody have covered a lot of ground.”

Veris smiled a little. “I insisted, after this morning.”

“You know that knowing too much about your own future can be dangerous, don’t you?”

“I didn’t ask about my future. I asked about you.” He went back to work. “There is a difference.”

“That’s typical of you. Splitting hairs so minute you need a microscope to see them.”

Veris lifted his head. “I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter. I was teasing. And trying to change the subject.”

“Why change the discussion? You don’t like talking about yourself, do you? You’ve tried to deflect me twice since I expressed my gratitude. Or is it my gratitude that bothers you?” He sat back and put the bowl of water aside, apparently finished with the cleaning. He simply watched her, waiting for her answer.

Taylor licked her lips. “Yesterday, you considered me a hindrance.” She held up her palm, where the scab from his knife cut was still red and healing. “Now I have your gratitude. No one changes their minds that fast.”

His gaze shifted and dropped away from hers. “Brody warned me you do not deal with men as other women do. I keep forgetting that.”

“I treat men as my equals in all but physical strength,” Taylor said. “And I’m used to being treated the same way.”

Veris snorted. Then he glanced at her. “You do not jest,” he said slowly. “This explains much…” He seemed lost in thought. Absorbed for a long moment. Then he stirred and picked up the filthy corner of her tunic where it laid folded back against her shoulder. “This must be changed, and you should bathe and remove all that blood and filth lest it travel to the wound.”

“Good idea,” she said dryly. “I’d love to, except that I’m as weak as a kitten, high as a kite and have one good arm.”

Veris’ mouth lifted in a small smile. “I believe most of what you just said means you approve the idea in general. I will bathe you.” He nodded toward the big pot of water by the fire. “I have all the arrangements in hand.”

Her body seemed to burst into flames and melt into a pile of nameless goo at the idea.

“No, Veris. No. That would be… That’s totally inappropriate. Brody can help me, when he gets back from wherever he is.”

“Brody won’t be back tonight,” Veris said shortly. “He’s camping with his men.”

Taylor drew in a short, hot breath that sizzled on the way down. “Why? Why would he do that?”

“I asked him to.”

“Why?” She tried to breathe, to bring her galloping heart under control and to find words that wouldn’t offend this Veris. Screw it, she decided and looked him in the eye. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Veris smiled a little. “No.” He rose and walked back to the fireplace and brought back the big pot, carrying it by the handle. “This is a common service doctors used to provide for their patients, in Pergamum. It seems to be a lost art, these days, or one passed on to servants as being too menial a task.” He put the pot on the ground close by and settled down next to her, pushing up his sleeves. “I want Brody in my life. You are wedded to his life in a way that the word ‘marriage’ does not even begin to describe. I want to know more about the woman who shares her man so selflessly, that she will take a spear in the chest in order to save his lover.”

“That’s not the only reason I did it,” Taylor replied.

Veris eased her torn tunic from her shoulders and off her arms. “The other reasons?”

Taylor said carefully, “In another time and place, I love you.”

“In that other time and place we are lovers, aren’t we?” Veris said flatly. He looked her in the eye and waited for her answer.

Taylor nodded. A single tear squeezed out from her eye despite her blinking. Veris picked it up on his finger. “You told me you loved me yesterday,” he reminded her. “Now it is only in that other time and place?”

Taylor closed her eyes. Veris, the master logician. She might have remembered not to lie around him. She opened them again. He was still waiting for her answer, so she gave him the truth, the only thing Veris would ever settle for. “I won’t be the one to ruin what you and Brody have now,” she said, trying to make her voice firm, her tone strong. But it came out sounding wobbly and pathetic. “I won’t be the one who gets in the way.”

Veris went back to gently removing her clothing. “You have a remarkable mind, Taylor Yates.”

But it was her body that was responding to what he was doing. She couldn’t help it. This was Veris, her longtime lover, his familiar hands removing her clothing. His scent. His voice. His eyes. His big body.

He even unbound her hair and laid it out on another blanket, leaving her stripped of everything while the night air brushed over her skin like a caress.

Veris first turned her carefully on her belly, then soaked a cloth in the water and washed her from neck to toe in long gliding strokes. He didn’t spare an inch of her. The cloth pushed between her legs and washed her cleft as thoroughly as any other part of her, while her face heated against the blanket.

This is Veris, she reminded herself. His tongue has been there. His cock, his hands. Why be coy?

It kept coming back to the strangeness of this Veris. They didn’t know him. He didn’t know them.

She heard the cloth drop back into the pot. Then Veris’ hands touched her back, spreading out. Smoothing. The fingertips digging in.

Taylor breathed out as muscles she didn’t know she possessed seemed to all sigh and relax at once. Tendons uncramped, knots disappeared. Veris was not applying as much pressure over her wounded shoulder as he would normally and he wasn’t using the Shiatsu and acupressure techniques he would pick up in the centuries ahead, but he was giving her one of his infamous massages. These massages were deadly, as Brody and she had both learned over the years. If she was tired or Brody distracted by band business and Veris wanted their energy and undivided attention, a fifteen minute massage would have them relaxed, aroused as hell and ready to go.

Taylor swallowed hard. “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to make it sound casual.

“It’s called rubbing. An ancient medical technique. Very good for diagnostics. Good for the patient, too.” He sounded utterly sincere. He either didn’t know what he was doing to her, or he was playing the game very deep indeed.

She just couldn’t figure out why Veris would toy with her this way. He had to be unaware of what he was doing.

So Taylor struggled to subsume her building arousal and ensure that not a hint of it showed in her movements, nor that she made any sound that would give her away. She tried to relax her body. Utter stiffness would be just as telling a statement, too.

Veris remained silent throughout, which was also a first. She was used to him crooning suggestive comments and making other ribald statements as he worked, for Veris usually found the massages just as erotic as they did.

Finally, Veris turned her onto her back, rinsed the cloth and began to wash the blood and gore from her. The touch of the warm cloth and his gaze upon her breasts was almost welcome after the power of the massage. No one ever suffered from a gaze.

The cloth brushing over her nipples made her hiss and she disguised it by drawing in a deeper breath and trying to pretend it was a yawn. She kept her gaze away from Veris’ eyes. Her heart was already a runaway steam train. No need to stoke it further.

The cloth pushed down her body, cleaning thoroughly. Veris rinsed more often now, as the blood was much thicker, especially on the left. The cloth worked its way down to her hips.

Taylor clenched the blankets, fighting not to let her hips flex upward in reaction. The need to squirm now that she could not was like a neon sign in her mind’s eye. It was all she could think about. That and what Veris’ hand was doing with the cloth.

The cloth dipped, rinsed and came back to her thighs. His hand separated her legs and lifted one knee. It was gentle, clinical, cool. The cloth washed her leg from foot to hip. Veris followed the path of the cloth with his gaze.

Then the other leg.

Taylor could barely breathe. Veris had somehow ended up kneeling between her thighs. It was far too suggestive for her already seriously weakened pulse.

As he washed her leg, running the cloth from hip to ankle, she shuddered. It was impossible to stop it. Veris could not possibly fail to notice it.

The cloth paused only for a minute fraction of a second. He did not look at her. He finished with a sweep of her ankles and toes.

He tossed the cloth into the pot, but instead of lowering her leg to the ground he turned his head and kissed the inside of her ankle. His tongue swept across her flesh.

Taylor was helpless to prevent the shaky breath she drew in reaction, because she simply hadn’t expected him to do that and not on such a sensitive spot.

Veris closed his eyes and pressed her ankle against his cheek. After a moment he lowered her leg back to the blanket and stood up. For the first time since she had shuddered, Veris looked her directly in the eyes.

Taylor saw a maelstrom of emotions on his face. Confusion was the chief among them, along with a heated arousal that made her own look like a penny candle alongside a nuclear furnace.

Chapter Thirteen

Taylor caught her breath.

Veris dropped his hands to his belt buckle and hesitated and she knew why. This was her moment to say no. To halt it.

Her breath quickened.

Veris’ chest lifted as he drew in his own harsh breath. He undressed, his gaze never leaving hers except for brief moments when layers got in the way. Finally he stood naked before her. Magnificent. Exactly as she remembered. His cock was hard and upright.

The tears blurred her vision and she blinked furiously. She remembered vaguely that pregnant women cried more. But it was a stray thought, gone in a nanosecond as she quickly wiped her eyes. Veris laid another blanket next to hers and stretched himself out so that his body touched as much of her as possible. His cock pushed up against her thigh.

Astonishingly, he felt warm to her.

Desert heat.

He rested over her, his lips almost touching hers. It was almost like he was afraid to take that last inch.

“I will be gentle,” he whispered.

“No, don’t be gentle. Just be careful,” she told him.

He groaned and took the promised kiss.

Taylor clung to him with her one good arm, trying hard not to be overwhelmed by the sheer delight of being back in Veris’ arms again, of being kissed by Veris again. His tongue swept into her mouth. Touched her lips.

“You taste of…something delightful,” Veris breathed. “I have never met a woman who kisses like you. A man would be a fool to stop kissing you, ever.”

Veris never did want to stop.

Taylor licked his upper lip, just where his canines rested beneath. “I’m inspired by the man kissing me.”

Veris lifted his head to look at her properly. “You do not fear us. Vampires.”

“Not you or Brody, no. You are the only two of your kind I have ever met. Except for one other—and Davina. But only for those few short moments.”

Veris’ expression darkened. “No, we will not speak of her now,” he said softly. He kissed her again and thoughts faded. She was caught by the sensations of his lips and tongue and teeth on her mouth, her face, her throat, her ears and neck. For long moments, he did nothing but stroke and caress her with his mouth and fingers, discovering her face and neck, as his body lay heavily against hers.

But it was enough for her pulse to remain thready and fast and her clit to throb in anticipation.

When his lips moved carefully below her collarbone, skipping her wound and her aching left arm, on to the soft swell of her upper breast, her body tightened and soared in a spiral of excitement harder and higher than she thought it would. Veris’ lingering exploration of her face and neck was driving her arousal to unaccustomed peaks.

He was taking full advantage of the fact that she was more or less helpless on the blanket.

She slid her hand into his hair as he bent over her. Her body was arching, lifting beneath him. Her clit was throbbing painfully and her pussy was heavy with juices. She felt empty and anxious to have him inside her, but knew that if she asked or tried to guide him, he would extend the teasing just to drive her frustration levels even higher, while reveling in the effect he was having on her.

But she reached a point where she couldn’t hide her building need any longer. As his lips closed around her nipple, Taylor groaned and her hips thrust. Hard. “Veris. Please…”

She realized that she was trying to coax him between her legs when he lifted her hand from his head and looked at her with a slow, promised-filled smile. “Don’t hurry me.”

Taylor licked her dry lips. “It is for my sake I must hurry. I won’t last, Veris!”

“You will,” he said with complete assurance. He spoke with the same utter certainty as the Veris of her time. A man sure of himself and his ability to give pleasure.

A ripple passed through Taylor’s body. “Kiss me,” she told him.

Veris lowered his head and pressed his lips against her breast. His tongue slid over the nipple, making her gasp. He did the same to the other breast, only this time his teeth snagged the nipple and tugged it while his tongue rasped over the tip.

Taylor closed her eyes, trying to keep her wriggling to a minimum, for it hurt her shoulder when she bucked too hard. But the heat and moisture pouring from her unfulfilled pussy and the throbbing from her clit was driving her mad. There was a building, pulsing wave pushing at her. Her climax was starting to quicken. She gasped, her breath shortening.

“Look at me.” Veris’ voice was low, heavy with his own excitement.

Taylor forced her eyes open.

Veris touched her lips with the tips of his fingers. “You are too close,” he breathed. “Such responsiveness…” He lifted himself over her, holding himself above her with one stiff arm so that his upper body did not press against her at all.

A thrill chased through her, hot and hard. She began to tremble. Her thighs separated as his hips settled between them. His cock pushed up against her slippery cleft.

“Ah, God, the heat,” Veris said hoarsely. He deliberately lifted his gaze to her face, then thrust deep and hard inside her.

Taylor cried out at the welcome pressure of having Veris inside her once again. Her climax leapt closer. She reached her hand up toward him, but could only reach his out-thrust arm, the flexed muscles, iron-hard now with effort.

He used pure muscle to withdraw and slowly thrust into her again, while putting minimal weight on her body.

Taylor realized that she was almost clawing at him. “Faster,” she breathed.

“I won’t be of any service to you if I do.”

She realized then that his flexed muscles and tightly held body weren’t just for her benefit. Veris was controlling his own reactions with super-human discipline.

“Touch yourself,” he gasped. “You know how?”

She nodded.

“Quickly,” he added.

Taylor slipped her fingers inside her soaked cleft, up against her clit. The little organ throbbed at her touch, making her arch and moan. As soon as she massaged the bud, her climax spiraled closer, to the point where everything was crowded out of her consciousness but the need to come—the delicious striving for the peak, where the breath hitched and even time ceased to have meaning while she floated in a sea of pleasure.

Then the climax showered over her like an explosion of sparks and jolts of pleasure that rushed through her. It was made dozens of times better by Veris’ cock pistoning into her hard and fast. He thrust one last hard time and pulsed as he came in a breathless, deep groan and hung his head, his eyes closing. But still he didn’t lean upon her, despite his efforts.

Taylor caressed his cheek, which she could reach now.

Veris lifted his head and looked at her. He raised a brow. “Is that tear for me?”

Taylor wiped her eye. “I suppose so. Yes.”

He carefully eased himself from her body. His cock was still erect and glistening with her fluids. Veris lay down beside her again and Taylor hid her smile. He wanted her still. He wanted more. He would talk and seduce her again. As many times as she could withstand until either the sun came up or he was drawn away by other demands, or she was.

It wasn’t just kissing that Veris couldn’t get enough of. Her body and her mind were his playthings, as well as his private joy.

Veris leaned over her and studied the wound on her shoulder. She didn’t worry about it being dark. He would be able to see more in this low light than she could see in full sunlight.

He pulled back, frowning. “That is remarkable,” he said. He looked at it again. “It is healing rapidly and extremely well.” He looked at her. “How do you feel?”

Taylor considered the matter. “Great,” she confessed.

He frowned again, puzzled over the word.

“I mean…wonderful. I feel very good. Much better than I should, under the circumstances. Shouldn’t you put Alexander’s herbal compress back on, by the way?” Suddenly, she yawned. It caught her by surprise and she tried to suppress it because the last thing she wanted to do was drive Veris away by petty human concerns like tiredness.

Veris’ eyes narrowed. “You need sleep,” he accused. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t realize until just now,” she said and smothered another yawn as it pushed through her. She reached for him. “I don’t want you to go away,” she added.

“I have no intention of going anywhere,” Veris said flatly. “But you are wounded. If your body says sleep, then sleep you must.”

“I don’t want to sleep. Not now you are here, like this.” She tried to sit up, but Veris held her down easily.

“What fear makes you resist what is best for you right now?” he asked.

She sighed. “You won’t come back to me again.”

“Ah.” He was sitting with one knee bent. Now he linked his hands around his knee. “You would like me to come back.” He did not smile as he said it, which made Taylor’s heart squeeze hard and start to pound. “Despite not wanting to be a wedge between Brody and I.”

“Yes… No.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She was moving onto quicksand here. With Veris, she always dealt with the truth because with his mind and reasoning abilities, it wasn’t worth using any other currency. But now, she couldn’t use the truth. This Veris wasn’t ready for it and the truth would jeopardize his own future.

His lips touched hers. “Be at peace,” he murmured. “My teasing is cruel, but I learned from a cruel woman and haven’t adjusted my habits yet.”

She looked at Veris to ensure he wasn’t laughing at her. He didn’t appear to be. “Then…” She couldn’t voice her hope. She didn’t want it dashed again. “Never mind.”

Veris settled back down alongside her. “You cannot tell me about my future, but you can tell me about my past, can you not?”

Taylor considered this. “You already know your own past.”

“I do not know about the time you were my wife. The time my sister says I was so happy, that day I returned to the village.”

She jumped a little, inside. “You spoke to Marit? I thought the village ran you off?”

“They did, eventually. But Marit managed to speak to me once before they had their way.”

Taylor rolled over onto her side to face him. She realized that Veris was right. Her shoulder throbbed far less that it had a while ago. It was as if all sign of infection and hurt had backed off by a matter of days—as if modern medicine had intervened. But there was still a dull ache from abused muscles and tendons. Not even modern medicine could compensate for that.

Veris arranged her left hand up between her breasts. It was a comfortable position, that way. He dropped his tunic over the top of her. It covered her from shoulder to ankle.

Taylor considered his request as he added more wood to the fire, moving around naked without any apparent concern. His sword and knife, she noted, were both standing point down in the sand by her head—within easy reach if he needed them.

She could tell Veris about the day and night she had spent in ancient Norway, from his personal past, as long as she kept out any references to his future. If she made it about what had happened in his past, so that he could fill in the missing blank in his memory, it might help him in some small way with how the village had reacted to her disappearance and how they had treated him.

When Veris settled back down on the blanket beside her, he rested his head on his hand, watching her.

So many times he had settled down next to her like this, to talk or listen, or argue, or discuss, or… Taylor drew in a breath, fighting against the hard knot of tears. She leapt for the change of subject. And she spoke old Norse, because it would make the telling easier. “We waited in the forest that day, because you were uncertain of your welcome—”

“Dear God,” Veris breathed. “I’ve not heard the language of home for centuries. It is a lost language now, do you know?”

She nodded. “I know,” she said softly.

“Dead,” he repeated softly, staring at nothing. He blew out a breath. “It is little things like this that make me envy humans.” He grimaced. “But you are not like most humans, are you, Taylor Yates? You appear in my past, my future, my present. You speak my birth language. You know things about me no mortal should. Yet despite that, you are so vulnerable the mere idea that I may not return on the morrow moves you to panic.”

“I am just a woman,” she told him. “Don’t over-think it, Veris.”

He considered her for a moment. “You are much more than just a woman. You would not be here, otherwise.”

She tried to figure out what he meant. Veris never handed out a simple compliment.

He touched her lips. “Tell me about the village,” he coaxed, in Norse. “We were in the forest…”

Taylor picked up the story from there and carefully described the rest of the day as she knew it. There were parts of Veris’ day she did not know, because she hadn’t been with him for all of it, but he had told her what he had been doing in spare moments, and she gave those details now. They may have been trivial at the time, but they were part of the blank moments that Veris need now. She handed them all over. Every scrap. Every intimate detail, except those that came from the future.

She painted for Veris the picture of a husband and his wife from a neighboring kingdom, visiting his home village for a day and feasting and dancing in the king’s hall that evening. Of the wife’s presentation to the king and the king’s attention and the husband’s jealousy that the whole village saw. With some careful editing, she gave him their real conversations. The laughter, the closeness, his joy at being home again. Their nighttime tryst in the forest and Taylor’s jump back to the future some time during the night, leaving Veris with no memories of the time Taylor had been there.

By the time she had finished the story, with all its details, she was very tired, her eyes drifting closed.

Veris stroked her temple. “Thank you,” he told her. “I begin to see, now, why the village was so convinced I murdered you. And why they were so passionate about your disappearance. You have a way of winning folk over.”

“I don’t mean to,” Taylor told him.

“Why were you there?” he asked. “Why did you go back there?”

She was sleepy and her defenses were down, so she answered truthfully. “I don’t know. We don’t know how it works, Veris. We just land somewhere in your past. That time, it was when you were human. Now it’s here.”

“We?”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep,” he told her.

She agreed.

And woke slowly. She was roused to wakefulness by the creep of sensations into her consciousness. Warmth. Building pleasure. Delicious tension. An absence of pain. The sleepy sea where thoughts drifted and all was good in life. There were no problems. Only a barely there awareness where thoughts were half-dreams, free-association ran loose and inhibitions were still in hibernation.

But real life was slowly drawing her senses awake. Stimulating them. She didn’t hurry to full wakefulness because the sensations were meant to please her. Arouse her. She let them, curling her senses around them.

A hand on her breast, cupping it. Her nipple caught between the fingers, drawing it out.

A body behind her. Bigger. Male. The jut of his cock pushing against her ass. His hand stroking the flesh at the top of her thighs. Fluttering. Teasing. Stirring her senses.

She drew in a breath and as she did, his tongue stroked the length of her neck, following her artery.

Veris. Just the size of him alone told her who it was. But his caress of her neck was unmistakable.

He gently thrust his tongue into her ear and it sent a ripple through her body.

More information registered as she roused. Sometime during the night, Veris had covered her with a blanket instead of his tunic, for in the strange ways of the desert, it had abruptly become cool. He lay under it now, too. A fire crackled at their feet.

He pushed at her knees, bending them. Taylor caught her breath at the rush of heat it caused in her lower belly. She knew what he intended. Her pussy clenched and her clit seemed to swell as she lay there.

She was fully awake now, alive to the cool pre-dawn air.

Veris’ hand slipped into her cleft, probing her pussy. He pushed his fingers deep inside her, his invasion made easy by her slick wetness. She gasped, arching. Only then did she realize her head was pillowed on his arm.

“I have a confession, Taylor,” he murmured by her ear.

She rolled her head back to look at him. “What?”

His fingers pushed into her again, stroking the sides of her vagina and the hard knot of nerve endings that made her moan.

“I watched Brody take you two nights ago, the way men do. It has been burning in my mind ever since.”

His fingers thrust into her again. Taylor wasn’t sure if her gasp was from that, or from his confession.

“Take her that way now,” Brody said.

Taylor flinched, turning her head to look up at Brody where he stood three paces away from where they lay. He wore his tunic, but no sword. Leggings, but no boots. He had crept from the main camp at first light to check on her. To check on them both.

Taylor’s heart began to thunder painfully.

Brody lowered himself down to the sand to kneel beside them. He was watching Veris, not her.

Veris had grown still, as still as a rock.

Brody kissed her, briefing. “You look much better,” he said. “But you always look better when you’re aroused.”

She could feel herself blushing.

Then he leaned over the top of her, took Veris’ face in his hands and kissed him. It was not a light peck, either. Taylor watched the sensual, deep kiss for every second it took, her own body responding to the power in it. She could feel Veris’ response in the way his body relaxed against her, but his cock pulsed and pushed against her hip. His hand withdrew from her pussy and gripped her thigh, squeezing.

Taylor licked her lips. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and full, the nipples hard.

Brody let Veris go. “Take her the way you take me,” he said hoarsely. “You want to.”

Veris was breathing hard. “I won’t be the one to cause pain. Never again.”

Taylor caught his hand under the blanket. “I’ve had you that way before. Many times. There is no pain. Quite the opposite.”

Brody reached into the pouch on his belt and withdrew a small bottle and held it out to Veris.

Taylor could feel the tension in Veris, against her body, but this time it was as if his entire body was thrumming with it.

So she reached out with her left arm and took the vial. Her arm ached and the movement hurt, but not with nearly the explosion of pain she had been expecting. She held the bottle up to Veris.

His breath pushed out of him in a harsh rush. He kissed her as he took the bottle, his lips hard and heavy.

Brody lay on the blanket that Veris had abandoned last night, resting on his side so that he was gazing into Taylor’s face. He was close enough she merely had to lean forward to kiss him. Veris’ elbow was almost touching Brody’s cheek. He made no move to lift away the blanket that covered them, though. Beyond the wagon, she could hear the first stirrings of the camp. Soft words. The crackling of cooking fires. Curses, coughing. The light was growing.

Veris was moving against her. Shifting away from her. She knew he would be coating his cock in the oil, preparing himself. A shudder moved through her.

Then his slick fingers slid between her ass cheeks and she moaned at the familiar touch. He probed hesitantly, then with more confidence as her anus stretched willingly to accommodate his probing finger.

Brody was watching her face and she could see the growing arousal in his. Even though he could not see what Veris was doing, imagination was providing more than enough stimulus.

The thick blunt head of Veris’ cock replaced his finger. His hand curled over her hip. She could hear his breath, heavy and quick, by her neck. He was almost panting. His lips brushed over her flesh. His teeth were shielded but she could feel them there, protruding just a little.

He pushed into her slowly, although she could feel the fine trembling in him, the need to slam into her like a rutting bull.

Then the pleasure of having Veris inside her again stole all thought from her. She relaxed her body, accepting him into her.

Brody exhaled heavily. “Your face…” he murmured. “As the pleasure takes you. I never tire of it.”

Veris inched into her, until finally he was fully within. “Dear heavens,” he breathed.

“It is all that,” Brody told him. He burrowed his hand beneath the edge of the blanket. He cupped her knee and slid his fingers along the curve of her thigh until he reached her ass.

“You seek to inspect my work?” Veris asked. He withdrew his cock. Slowly again.

“As I cannot see it, why not?” Brody replied.

Taylor felt his fingers dip lower, to her anus and Veris’ quick catch of breath. His cock twitched inside her, making her gasp.

Brody pull his hand away from them, shaking his head. “I cannot simply lay here and imagine. It isn’t nearly enough.” He lifted the blanket and eased himself forward a few more inches. “Taylor, let me join you.” His hand lifted her knee.

Hot fizzing excitement spilled through her.

Veris gave a choking sound. “You cannot mean what I think you mean?”

“Yes, he does,” Taylor said. Her voice shook with her own rising anticipation. It had been too long since she had shared herself this way. She straightened her lower leg, trusting that Brody would support her. He lifted her thigh over his as he moved under the blanket. At the same time he hoisted his tunic out of the way.

She felt his cock push up against her cleft, hard and more than ready. Brody kissed her again, quickly. His hand swooped along her flank—a quick caress—then back to her hip. He eased into her. She could feel herself separating, accepting him. She caught her breath.

“I can feel you,” Veris said, sounding surprised…and aroused. “Inside her. I can feel you inside her…against me.”

Brody’s lips parted in surprise. “In all these many centuries, you have never shared a woman, Veris?”

Taylor turned her head back to look at him. Veris rested his forehead against hers. “I found no woman worthy of the pleasure,” he said quietly.

Taylor glanced at Brody from the corner of her eyes, shocked. He shook his head just a little.

So she tried to absorb her dismay and guilt for the damage she had created that long ago night in Norway. The Veris she knew had known women aplenty before meeting Brody and had shared them, too. Brody had acquired the taste for ménage from Veris.

Taylor rolled her head back against Veris and let herself dwell in the delight of being possessed by them. Her eyes closed. “Please stay still for a moment, both of you. Let me just enjoy the feel of you.”

Veris licked her neck, the corner of her jaw and just below her ear, where her pulse throbbed. He pressed his lips against her cheek. “I must move. You are like a fist around me. Stroking even as you lay there. If I do not move I will be of no service to you.”

Taylor sighed. “Very well. I am being sentimental.”

Brody laughed, another low chuckle. “You know this is not the best part.” His hand moved restlessly against her hip, crowding up against Veris’. He glanced at Veris. “Together.”

Taylor caught her breath and held it as they withdrew from her and eased back in. Such a simple movement, but it sent waves of pleasure washing over her. She clutched at Brody weakly.

They pushed into her in steady, smooth strokes, their speed building as their own excitement levels spiraled. She heard their breathing shorten. Brody’s expression changed as his climax drew closer. The fine line between his brows deepened. His black eyes focused inward and his full lips parted so that she could just see the tips of his canines as they descended, proof of the power of his arousal. The sight of them peeking below his upper lip when he was about to climax never failed to thrill Taylor because she knew he was helpless to prevent them appearing when he was truly excited.

Her climax gathered, pressure building.

Veris’ hand slipped from her hip to drop down to her mound. His fingertips pressed between Brody and her and found her swollen clit, slick with her moisture. He pressed his fingers around her clit.

“Come for us,” Veris breathed in her ear.

He barely needed to stroke her clit. Just the motion of Brody’s pelvis against her as he thrust was enough.

Taylor gasped, her gaze losing focus and turning inward. Her climax leapt, stealing her breath, clamping her muscles and tendons and holding her hostage for what felt like minutes as pure pleasure tore through her in fizzing, waves. She could feel her vagina and ass pulsing with the power of it.

“Gods!” Veris breathed in a raw and shocked voice. His cock shifted and surged in her as he came, milked to climax by her own orgasm.

Brody gripped her hip with hard fingers and thrust as soon as her orgasm passed enough to let him move. One more thrust and he came with a low groan, his eyes closing.

They all remained still for a long minute or two, their breaths mingling above the blanket. Taylor tingled from head to foot and knew she wore a smile she couldn’t stop. She opened her eyes and looked at Brody. He was smiling, too. His canines had retracted, but that was okay.

“Good morning,” she murmured, in English.

His smile grew warmer.

“That was ‘good morning’ was it not?” Veris asked, kissing her neck.

“Yes,” Taylor confirmed. She turned to smile at him. “And it does seem to be a good morning, after such an awful day yesterday.”

Veris looked from her to Brody. “Am I the only one here to have any feelings of awkwardness? Hesitation?”

“Yes,” Brody said flatly.

“I lie here at this moment with my…coupled with your wife at the same moment as you. I spent the night with her, although that had not been my intention—”

“I knew you would,” Brody interjected.

Veris hesitated. “You knew? But you still agreed to let me tend her? Knowing that?”

“Yes.”

Under the blanket, Veris’ hand lifted and began to smooth its way along Taylor’s side. Up and down, like one might soothe a restless horse. She wondered if Veris was aware that he was doing it. He often reached for her this way if he was uncomfortable. The physical man’s version of a pacifier.

“I do not understand,” Veris said at last.

Brody nodded. “You can’t understand. Not yet. Not for a few centuries, anyway. Just between the three of us for right now, accept it and enjoy it.”

Veris’ response was slow to come. “I will consider it.” His hand slid up to cup Taylor’s breast and he kissed her cheek. “It is a most persuasive offer, after all. Thank you for the night, my lady.”

He withdrew from her, which caused Brody’s cock to dislodge, too.

“Let me see your wound one last time.” Veris pulled the blanket back enough to look at the still uncovered wound and she lay down to let him see it better.

“Remarkable,” he muttered.

Brody leaned over to look as well and whistled a long low note. “Either Alexander knows his stuff or Veris does. That looks like it was done a week ago.”

“I think they both know their stuff,” Taylor said. “It barely hurts anymore. It’s just muscle stiffness now.”

“Leave off the chainmail,” Veris told her. “It will irritate the stitches. But I would suggest riding on the wagon again today. You cannot go on horseback a day after the wound you received. The men will start muttering about witchcraft.”

Taylor sighed. “I will be bored silly. I agree that I must stay on the wagon, but you promise you will visit me?”

Veris looked startled. “Me?”

“Both of you,” she insisted. “From time to time at least. When you aren’t ordering your men about or watching sand move in front of your horse’s nose.”

Brody chuckled. “I’ll see what I can arrange.” He rested his hand on Veris’ bare thigh, where he kneeled next to Taylor. “I suggest you get dressed, Veris. The men are moving about now and they love scandal as much as the women at court.”

Veris glanced over his shoulder toward the wagon that shielded them from the main camp and frowned. “Centuries of masks and quite suddenly I grow tired of it. How strange.” He got to his feet, looking down at them, the frown deepening. It seemed as if he would speak again, but instead he turned and dressed silently. He left with a simple nod, for by then the camp beyond the wagon was fully active and the chatter of the men loud.

Brody helped Taylor bathe with the last of the water in the pot sitting by the fire, then dress, for her arm was still stiff enough that lifting it above her shoulder was difficult.

They spoke of generalities, for the voices of the men beyond the wagon drifted back to them clearly, a warning that their own words would carry just as well and they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves by using English.

So it was a good two hours after the entourage had got underway before Brody could make his way back to Taylor’s wagon, hitch his horse to it and climb aboard to sit on her blankets and speak to her.

He crossed his legs and threaded his fingers, studying her. “You wanted to talk?” he said in English.

“You didn’t?” she asked. “After last night and this morning?” She hugged her knee. “Haven’t you ever wondered why we were here? What mechanism decides when we get to jump back?”

He took a breath. “I’ve been too worried about making sure Veris and I got together and shoring up our personal histories again to think about it.”

“Exactly. We’ve fixed things. We’ve put things right. You and Veris are together again and in a tenuous sort of way, Veris is kind of with both of us. He’s thinking about it, anyway. But that part doesn’t even really matter in this time and place. He’s with you and that’s all that counts. So if that’s why we’re here, then why haven’t we jumped back?”

“Who says that’s why we’re here?” Brody asked.

“Who says it isn’t?”

“Because we didn’t have the problem when we jumped here,” Brody pointed out. “We jumped, then we created the problem for ourselves.”

Taylor chewed that one over. “Then why are we here? And when do we get to go back?”

Brody shook his head. “No one knows. In four years, we’ve never been able to figure out a pattern. You know this as well as I do. This is the longest time we’ve ever been held in a jump and this is the first time we’ve never been able to bring one of us back in time.”

“It’s the first time one of us in our own time hasn’t been there physically. Veris was in Europe,” Taylor pointed out. “And he was pissed at us.”

“Pissed at you,” Brody amended. “And he wasn’t pissed. That’s putting it way too crudely. It’s never that simple with Veris.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say? I don’t have answers any more than you do. Veris was the one who seemed to understand more about this stuff than either of us. He certainly spent more time thinking about it.”

Taylor hugged herself. “I want to go home,” she said truthfully. “I want Veris back. The real Veris. Our Veris. I like this one. I love this one. I do. But he’s not the real one who knows us so well. I want that one back.”

Brody’s gaze cut away from her.

“What?” Taylor said sharply.

He sighed heavily. “I had a long night of staring into the flames last night,” he said at last. “And it occurred to me that we’re repeating your mistake from old Norway. We’re meddling in history again.”

She felt a cold chill in her gut. “We’re fixing it,” she said sharply.

“Are we?” he asked. “The problem with Veris’ past was that you were in it, when in the real past you didn’t exist.” He spread his hand, palm up, to indicate her. “Here you are again. What changes are you introducing this time?”

Taylor bit her lip. “We’re trying to minimize those changes,” she said slowly. “Putting him back to where he should have been if I hadn’t been in Norway.” It was a pathetic attempt at denial and she knew it. So did Brody. She could see it in his face.

“Maybe when we get back,” he said gently, “the Veris we knew won’t be there waiting for us at all. The Veris waiting for us will be totally different because of changes we make here and now.”

Taylor shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps that’s why we’re here,” Brody said relentlessly. “Perhaps we’re here to pay the price for all our time travelling. Perhaps this is where the buck stops.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Something troubles you, my friend.”

Brody stirred himself, looking up from the sand moving just ahead of his horse’s head. It grew hypnotic after a while, he realized. He looked at Veris. “I’m sorry. You said something?”

Then he realized that they had both spoken Saxon and that Alexander was turning his head to listen, his eyes narrowing with sharp intelligence, a furrow between his brows. As Alexander could not possibly understand, Brody was not troubled. But he shifted back to French, anyway. “I apologize. My thoughts were elsewhere,” he told Veris. “You spoke?”

“I did,” Veris agreed. His gaze shifted to Alexander. He did it without turning his head.

The Fatimid was sitting cross-legged upon his horse, his reins between his calves, balancing a thick leather portfolio upon his knees. The portfolio acted as a simple desk for a parchment and a piece of thin coal-like substance which he was using to write upon the parchment. Brody wondered if it was lead. An early and simple pencil.

“I am not good company this day,” Brody replied, for both Veris and Alexander’s ears. “My thoughts bother me.” That would give Veris a way to avoid speaking of anything he didn’t want Alexander to hear. They couldn’t drop into Saxon in front of him without raising his suspicions.

Veris lifted a brow. “Indeed. I’ve had thoughts of my own that need sharing. They might serve to cheer you.”

Brody cocked his head. “Really? What thoughts would they be?”

“I have considered the matter at length, my lord. It would be my honor if you would accept me into your household as your knight at arms.”

Alexander paused in his scribbles and looked at Veris, his eyes widening.

“You wish Selkirk to release you?” Brody asked carefully.

“I do.”

Brody took a breath. His heart was suddenly hurrying. He tried not to show it in his voice or mannerisms. “Do you believe Selkirk would have any objections to releasing you, Will?”

“Aye, he might have one or two, but I believe I could point out more reasons that would be to his benefit.” Veris’ expression was grim and Brody knew he was thinking of Davina. Veris was actually going to tell Selkirk about Davina. A hint or a bald statement. Either way, he was going to use Selkirk’s wife as leverage for his freedom.

It might be dangerous. If Davina learned what Veris planned to do, she could try to counter his attempt to escape her husband’s household…and her dungeon.

Brody wanted to protest that Veris didn’t have to go to such lengths to barter for his freedom. History and Brody’s memory of the siege of Jerusalem told him that Selkirk would die tomorrow in the first attack upon the walls of the city. Veris would be free to seek a new master without this added danger.

But things were different and now Brody couldn’t say for sure that Selkirk would be one of the early victims of the Fatimid swords.

He glanced at Veris calmly waiting for his answer. Veris needed to break away from the poisonous Davina for his own sake.

Brody nodded. “Arrange it, Will. As soon as possible. I’d welcome a knight with your skills into my household with open arms.”

Veris nodded. “As soon as possible, then,” he said gruffly.

But he seemed to be holding back a smile.

Brody didn’t bother hiding his.

* * * * *

The sun was level with the tops of the highest buildings of Jerusalem when they arrived back at the city.

Theirs was a heroes’ welcome, for water and fresh food had grown so dangerously low in the nearly three days they had been gone that people from the northern and western camps fell upon the wagons of food and water with almost manic delight. Only quick thinking by the more level-headed senior leaders kept the water barrels whole and unbreached, as they inserted guards in front of the desperate allies and went about ladling out first rations of fresh supplies immediately, straight from the wagons.

Brody helped Taylor down from her wagon, over the tops of the heads of soldiers and camp followers and carried her back to their tent on the back of his horse. Veris accompanied them part of the way.

“I will leave you here,” Veris said, reining in his horse.

Brody halted, too. “You meant what you said earlier?” he asked softly, in Saxon.

Taylor looked from one to the other, puzzled.

Veris nodded. “Yes, by the gods,” he said flatly. “There are reasons for why you came into my life.” He dropped his gaze to Taylor. “Both of you, I think.”

She shivered and Brody’s arm tightened around her.

Veris looked back at Brody. “This must be at least one reason. If it isn’t, I’ll make it one. I’ve been looking for a way…an excuse. You’re a damn fine excuse. A worthy one.”

“She’s not going to agree with you on that,” Brody told him. “Watch your back. I won’t be there to ward off spears, this time.”

“I will.” He grinned, turned his horse and headed north, parallel with the long line of tents and encampments sitting out of bowshot of the western walls of the city.

“He’s quitting Selkirk?” Taylor said, in English.

“Yes.”

“And coming to work for you?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what happened before?”

Brody shook his head. He was watching Veris ride away. “Not exactly,” he murmured. “But the end result is almost the same. He ended up a knight in my household. If Selkirk lets him go without a fight and if Selkirk can handle Davina.”

“What could Davina do to Selkirk?” Taylor asked. “I thought Selkirk fought in the siege tomorrow. You said he did, originally. But you sound worried, like Davina might hurt Selkirk, or foul up Veris’ plans somehow.”

“All bets are off,” Brody said gently. “Davina obeys no laws. That is the reason Veris had to deal with her, the first time around. She already tried to assassinate him once, out here in the desert. That didn’t happen last time. Now, with all the changes that have happened, I can’t begin to guess what she may do. We are moving through country as undiscovered as the future.” He looked down at her and smiled gently. “Let’s go get you a more comfortable bed for you to pretend to be frail upon.”

* * * * *

Veris paused only long enough to wash up and change before presenting himself to Selkirk. It had been years since his heart had beat in time with his emotions, but now he found it was hurrying along, squeezing and banging against the inside of his chest. If no other sign had indicated so, this alone told him his decision was sound. His body was awakening once more to simple pleasures, more human responses and stimulus, instead of being dead to anything but the most extreme forms of pain and pleasure.

Selkirk greeted him with arms spread wide and a big smile. His hand shake was firm and his pat on the back hearty and accompanied by fulsome greetings and praise.

“The hero of the hour!” Selkirk declared. “You have done me and the Selkirk name proud, William! The northern lords and their households are relieved of their dire circumstances tonight because of you.” He grasped Veris’ forearm with his left hand while still shaking his hand. “I will not forget this, William.”

He let Veris’ hand go, then turned and picked up a cup of wine from the small table standing by the big shield chair that went everywhere with him. “Tonight in the small hours we roll the siege engines up to the walls of the city. It would have been an impossible task with no water to soothe our mouths and bellies, but you have changed that.” He lifted the cup up to Veris and drank a mouthful.

“You exaggerate my part in the matter, my lord,” Veris replied. “I reported to Brendan of Norwich and followed his orders. It was his man who found the water and Norwich’s skill and leadership that ensured the water arrived here inside the three day limit that Toulouse demanded.”

Selkirk’s cup lowered a little. “But still, you succeeded!” he insisted.

“I followed a leader,” Veris replied. “An excellent leader. One that I would prefer to continue to follow.”

Selkirk put his cup back on the table. “William, you are making no sense at all. Three days in the desert have parched your innards.”

Veris smiled grimly. From the narrowing of Selkirk’s eyes, the man knew exactly what he meant. He simply wanted Veris to speak the words aloud. Veris tucked his thumbs into his belt and looked Selkirk in the eye. It meant dropping his chin a fraction to do it. “I wish to be immediately released from your services and your household, my lord.”

Selkirk took a moment to absorb it. “Immediately? Impossible! We are on the eve of war, man! I cannot possible deprive my retinue of one of my best knights. It is out of the question.”

“I will be fighting tomorrow, no matter which shield is on my tunic,” Veris replied evenly. “The Christians will not lose my skills. Is that not the more important question here?”

Selkirk hesitated.

“You have for the last three days survived quite happily without my services,” Veris pushed on. “You’ve managed to build a siege engine without my oversight. I saw it out there as I came into the tent. I presume Richard managed the matter while I was gone. I trained him and know his abilities. He knows how to handle men well. You will not be without a good second once I am gone.”

Selkirk grew angry. “You already speak as if the matter is settled.”

“It is,” Veris said sharply. “Understand, my lord. I am leaving whether you wish it or no. I am simply trying to help you agree to the matter.”

“Agree?” Selkirk’s face turned red. “Do you know what I will do to you if you dare leave without my authority?”

“Or my Lady Selkirk’s, either?” Veris added.

Selkirk sucked in his breath, as if he were trying to catch back words. He coughed and cleared his throat. When he finished coughing, his face was mottled white and red. He sank down onto the big chair, breathing hard and rubbed at his temple.

He bowed his head and for a long moment he said nothing.

Veris understood then that Selkirk had been trying to fool himself that the rumors were not true, that his wife had not been systematically cuckolding him for the duration of their marriage.

If Selkirk truly understood the depth and style of her betrayal, he would attempt to kill her and then discover what manner of creature he had married in fact.

Veris pulled the length of cloth from his tunic, stepped forward and dropped it onto Selkirk’s knee. The blood was old, now. Crusty and stale, but any fighting man would recognize the stains for what they were. The stains had soaked across most of the cloth, but the Selkirk shield and Davina’s stylized “D” were perfectly clear.

Selkirk didn’t try to pick it up. “What is this?” He tried to speak with a demanding, authoritative voice, but it came out weak. Broken.

“Norwich took that from the body of the man Lady Selkirk sent to assassinate me, out in the desert. She had him dress like a Fatimid and shove a spear in me from behind. You have reparations to make to Norwich, Selkirk. His lady took that spear, not I.”

Selkirk gripped his chair arm. “She died?”

“She lives, but only because I and one other between us know enough about war wounds to make it so,” Veris told him harshly. “But I won’t fight another day wearing the shield of a house that plots against me. I’m quit of Selkirk as of now.”

“You have proof of this?”

“You’re holding it,” Veris growled.

“A piece of bloody cloth?” Selkirk picked it up in his fingers. “I could cut any sow’s throat, sop up the blood and cry murder, too.”

Veris nodded. “Then ask anyone in your household under my command who went on the expedition. They’ll confirm the details. Ask around Norwich’s camp. Inspect the shoulder of Norwich’s wife. Look at the wound she carries. Then, when you’re ready, try to find a Selkirk archer called John. A tall young fellow with pale skin and blue eyes something like mine. He’s been missing since the expedition set out for water three days ago. You won’t find him because Norwich buried him in the desert after beheading him, because he tried to kill me with a spear on your wife’s orders.”

Selkirk grimaced. “I know the man of whom you speak,” he said tiredly. He sighed. “I release you, Will. You are right, an immediate release is better.” Selkirk couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

Veris unhooked his hands, letting them move away from the quick drop to his sword hilt. “I will go at once.” He moved level with the big chair where Selkirk was still sitting hunched against one arm and hesitated. The words were there. Get rid of your wife, Selkirk. Don’t just put her aside. Kill her, take the head and heart, burn the body and salt her grave and even then, sleep with a spear by your bed.

But he remembered, all at once, that Taylor had tried a simple gambit with Selkirk: to borrow Veris for her husband’s expedition. Selkirk had won and refused to give her his best knight. Instead, Selkirk had sent Veris at the head of his own expedition to win political influence with the northern lords.

Selkirk had made Taylor feel like a fool for his own gain, while Taylor had beggared herself for Brody’s sake.

Veris looked at Selkirk now and his heart hardened. He straightened up and kept walking toward the tent flap. Let Selkirk stew in his own household troubles. He deserved them.

He pushed aside the flap and stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. It felt extraordinarily fresh and pleasant out here, for all that it was hot, dry and dusty and the raw, dazzling sunlight bothered his eyes more here than ever it did in England.

As he stood adjusting to the sun, Davina rounded the far corner of the tent and came to a halt.

Shock slithered over her face and was quickly gone as she adjusted to the fact that her gambit to kill him had failed.

She painted a smile on her face and came toward him. She was slender and tall and dark-haired, not unlike Taylor, but that was where all similarity ended. Her slenderness held no feminine softness, even though she covered it with cloth and womanly accoutrements on occasions, or like now, with her own version of her husband’s tunics and leggings. Her breasts were small, as were her hips and there was no sweet hour-glass curve at the waist and hip.

Her eyes were the most alluring thing about Davina. She watched Veris now with what most outsiders might consider to be a blank, polite expression, but Veris knew to be a hungry one.

“Everyone tells me you are a hero, Will,” she breathed, sliding her hand up his chest toward his neck, trying to raise his pulse.

He caught her wrist in his. “Explain why,” he growled. “Why have John try to kill me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I sent him to spy on you, not kill you.” Her other hand slithered, snake-like, around his neck. “Her beauty and allure is on the lips of every man in the western camps. Now rumor is spreading here in the northern ones. I know your drives, your needs. Three days with only her loveliness to look upon? I admit, I was jealous. I sent John to watch you and report back to me.”

“Bullshit,” Veris told her, grabbing her other wrist.

She blinked. “What?”

Veris yanked her wrists away from him, so that her hands weren’t touching his flesh. He assessed her. “It wasn’t Tyra, it was Brendan,” he said. “You sent John to spy on Brendan and me. John’s attack happened immediately after we—”

Davina’s face writhed with anger. “You are mine, Will. You do not get to choose other lovers!” Her hands curved into claws and he barely managed to keep them from his face.

He shoved her back from him, making her stagger. “Your man failed. You have failed. Next time, if you want the task done aright, do it yourself. I’m quit of Selkirk and you.”

“You are not leaving,” she said and hissed. It was an ugly sound, one that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made his hand twitch to reach for the knife in his belt.

“Davina?” Selkirk called from inside the tent.

Her protest had carried and alerted Selkirk to her presence.

Veris held open the tent flap for her, forcing her to enter the tent and not linger and speak to him while her husband sat in the big chair within earshot.

Veris wondered why had he thought her eyes to be so marvelous. There was no warmth in them, despite their decorative appeal. He watched her step into the tent, dropped the flap down behind her with relief and brushed his hands together to rid himself of the dust from the tent flap and that part of his life.

Then he went to find his page to give him orders about packing the remainder of his gear.

* * * * *

By the time he was done the sun was setting and Veris’ mood was turning foul from the delays. In his mind, he was already quit of Selkirk and his dominion, but there were practicalities that needed attention before he could turn his horse south and head for Norwich’s camp. He set up the promotion of Richard to knight to replace him and arrange Richard’s knighthood. There were the positions and armaments for the fighting on the morrow, strategies and supplies to sort out, the dispersal of the water and food they had brought back from the desert and more. Plus the packing and overseeing of the delivery of his personal belongings to Norwich’s camp.

But finally, Veris was free to leave, as the fiery ball of red reached the horizon, with a spectacular display of pinks, reds and oranges across the sky that left many muttering about warnings and portents.

The siege engines were well outlined by the blazing sunset. The citizens behind the walls of the city could not fail to see the completed structures. Their night would not be an easy one.

Davina set upon him just south of St. David’s Gate, an empty piece of no man’s land between the camps of the northern lords and those camps guarding the western walls, where everyone swung around in a wide western curve to avoid the congestion between the two wings of the besieging army.

She picked her spot and time well, as men were occupied with eating their first full supper in days. She took him from behind, a running leap using vampire speed. The knife sheared off his mail, but the impact of her body drove him from his horse.

They tumbled and rolled for a dozen paces as his horse whinnied behind him, rearing. Like a good warhorse, Freyr was trying to fight the enemy for him, but he couldn’t pick this one out when it was wrapped around Veris like a cape.

Davina snarled. It was an inhuman sound. Her canines were fully extended and the expression on her face as she lifted the knife up over him matched the snarl. “You dare presume to leave me,” she growled.

There was blood over the front of her tunic and down her throat. Veris grabbed her wrist, holding back the knife from his chest. She intended to cut out his heart. “Whose blood is that?” he demanded, although he already knew.

“You do not leave me. I am your master. I tell you when your service to me is done.”

He could barely hold her back. Her strength was not just inhuman. Even for a vampire it was extraordinary.

“Where is Selkirk?” he asked. “What did you do to him?”

She laughed. “The fool. He hit me. Me!”

Selkirk had taken a husband’s typical reaction. He had tried to punish his wife for her liaison and for her crimes and Davina had killed him for it.

While she was crowing over Selkirk’s stupidity, Veris used her distraction to test the distribution of her weight. He found the point of unbalance and flexed upward with a roar, tipping her sideways and keeping her knife hand pinned.

“Freyr!” he called and rolled out of the way.

The horse came down perfectly, his hooves aiming for her head, but Davina was so fast that he got an imperfect strike, getting her shoulder at best. She cried out. Even through chainmail, the strike of a full grown warhorse’s hoof would have damaged her. She kept rolling and got to her feet.

But by then Veris had his sword and knife out, ready to face her.

Davina dropped her knife to her left hand. Her right hung uselessly. “A sword and a knife against a woman’s left hand knife only? That’s hardly fair,” she said softly.

Veris leapt upon her. He wasn’t going to let her shoulder heal while they stood there in idle chatter. He would end this one way or another now. Fair was not something Davina understood although she liked to fling the word about because it often made others hesitate for the necessary seconds while she found their weak spots.

Her knife came up blindingly fast and parried past his blades, despite her apparent weakness. She spun away, blood flowing from another cut to her useless right arm, her chest heaving, studying him. All pretense at softness and womanhood were gone.

She sized him up purely as an enemy now. At last. “I will cut out your heart, then eat it,” she told him.

A shudder ran through him. Veris had a feeling she was not giving an idle threat. “Is that what you do with all your slaves?”

She came at him almost before he had finished speaking. Pure instinct got his sword up in time. The flurry lasted longer this time. She was tiring, her left arm weaker than her right. Veris sensed that the tide of the fight was turning his way.

That was when she dropped the knife back to her right hand with a cry of delight and slammed the blade deep into Veris’ side, through the lacings on the side of his hauberk.

She stood with her pale eyes a bare hand’s span from his, watching his pain. Then she shoved the knife deeper, turning it. Veris writhed, unable to help the cry of agony that escaped him.

Davina licked her lips. “You always underestimated me, Will,” she whispered. Her foot hooked around the back of his ankle and pulled. He could feel himself falling backward, but there was nothing he could do about it. She was pushing with all her might and he was overbalanced. He fell onto the hard, dry earth of Jerusalem and knew she had the upper hand after all.

She fell on him with a wicked smile, tearing his tunic aside and yanking the buckles on his hauberk to reveal his chest and the heart beating beneath. “You’re mine,” she breathed, her canines bared. She had another knife in her hands. A longer one. One Veris recognized. The knife she liked to use to gut fresh kill with, because it was long enough to reach deep inside. The knife was raised.

A hand snaked around Davina’s throat from behind and yanked backward. She was lifted up, so that her whole upper body was arched backward. Another hand pulled back the wrist holding the knife, holding it back from Veris’ chest.

“He’s not yours,” Brody growled. “He never was.”

Softly, from dozens of feet away, but spoken clearly enough because she knew that he could hear her anyway, Taylor said in old Norse; “I’m standing behind you, Väinä. Show me where her heart should be.”

Veris reached up to tear away Davina’s tunic. He gripped the edges of her finely made hauberk and heard the leather buckles tear and give. The undershirt came away, too. Her upper chest and the small breast gleamed in the last of the red sunset.

Davina looked past Veris’ head and her eyes widened. “No!” she breathed.

“I’m not yours,” Veris told Davina. “But you are hers. Take her, Taylor.”

The arrow whistled past his head with a sound he’d heard in so many battles. This time, it sounded sweet, like a song. It buried itself exactly in Davina’s upper breast. Deeply, almost halfway down the wooden shaft. The shaft that was just like a stake.

Davina began to struggle, her feet strumming on the dirt. Blood erupted from her mouth.

Brody tossed her away to lie on the sand and struggle, the arrow sticking up like a flag on a conquered castle, wavering as she tossed and kicked and bled and screamed in a voice so high it was almost inaudible. Until suddenly she was still.

“The head,” Veris croaked. “Take the head.”

Brody scrambled to his feet, withdrew his sword, raised it and decapitated her in one swift, powerful movement.

There was a clatter of wood and soft hands on his body. “Väinä…Veris. Please, tell me you are fine.” Taylor tentatively touched the hilt of the knife in his side.

“Pull it out,” Veris told her, turning to look at her. Her eyes were huge, smoky soft gray. Concerned. Warm.

“What?” She sounded shocked.

“Pull it out. Hurry,” Brody urged her.

Her lips trembled, but she nodded and gripped the hilt. He saw her draw a shaky breath and felt the knife slide from him. There was a sucking sound as air replaced the blade.

Taylor fell forward, leaning on her hands. “Oh…” She dropped the knife. “Oh…” she repeated. She crawled away and hung her head and was violently sick. Brody dropped his sword and hurried after her, then stopped and came back to Veris and bent over him. “You are healing?”

Veris began to laugh. The chuckle caught him by surprise. Then it expanded and became a full throated roar that made his side ache and his head hurt.

But it felt damn fine, all the same.

Chapter Fifteen

It was a strange procession that made its way back to Brody’s camp. Brody led Freyr, who by animal instinct had decided Brody was trustworthy and continually nuzzled his shoulder as he walked docilely behind him.

Veris sat upon Freyr with Taylor in his lap. They drew stares, for Taylor still wore the tunic with Brody’s shield upon it and Veris wore Selkirk’s colors, now bloodied and covered in gore. Brody’s tunic was slashed with blood where he had wiped his sword after dealing with Davina’s body. Both men were streaked with dirt, for they had buried what was left of Davina beneath a rocky outcrop, moving silently in the dark. They had placed the rocks back as they had been. Brody had done most of the work for Veris was still healing—all except the moving of the larger rocks. But the rocks were big enough that no human would be able to move them and they left the place looking undisturbed.

Despite the speculative glances sent their way as they walked back to Brody’s tent, they offered no explanations. No one asked for them, either.

As they progressed down the line of the western encampments, the activity around the campfires did not die down as it should have at that late hour. Every camp was buzzing, with shadowing figures moving around the firelight, carrying their own torches, or the camp blazing with lanterns.

“Something is amiss,” Veris said softly. “No captain would waste firewood hauled over such distances this way without good cause.”

“There must have been a change of orders since we left to find you,” Brody called back, just as softly. “We’re nearly there. We’ll find out in a moment or two.”

They slipped into their camp to find it in chaos. Brody’s captain was bawling orders, but seemed on the verge of hysterics. He turned to Brody in deep relief. “My lord, thank heavens! They’ve changed orders! We’re rolling the siege engines up to the walls in the wee hours, in time for first light.”

Brody glanced at Veris, who grinned back.

“When are the engines to begin moving?” Brody asked calmly.

“As soon as they will get to the wall in time for sunrise!” the captain replied, wringing his hands.

Brody held up his in a ‘stop’ position. “That is at least nine hours away. Even moving slowly, the engines will take three hours to roll up to the walls from here. We could all get five hours’ sleep, an hour to eat and still meet our required deadline. Please explain the reason for the panic?”

The captain licked his lips. “I don’t rightly know, my lord,” he said at last. “I guess…I didn’t know the sun was that far away.”

Brody nodded. “Pass the word along, would you? Have someone start an hour candle so we know the time here, instead of waiting for the time crier. And have water and food sent to my tent.” He indicated Veris. “This is Sir William. He will be joining the household as my advisor and knight at arms.”

The captain nodded and held out his hand. “Sir William. I’ll have someone take care of your horse for you.”

Veris handed over the reins. “His name is Freyr and he’s worked hard tonight.”

The captain nodded. “We have some oats tucked away somewhere. I’ll spare a handful.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Brody held the tent open for Veris and Taylor. “See to the food and water,” he told the captain. “And see that we’re not disturbed. This panic is meaningless. Everyone needs a decent rest. They’ll need it for the morrow.”

“Yes, my lord!” the captain replied, deep relief in his voice.

* * * * *

Candles were still burning from the few short minutes they had spent in the tent before going in search of Veris, making the tent seem even warmer to Taylor than the still air outside. She tried to ignore the heat. In here was a precious, hard-to-find privacy.

All three of them stood in a loose circle, staring at each other.

“You’re a mess,” Brody told Veris.

Veris laughed.

Taylor plucked at Veris’ Selkirk tunic. “You should take this off,” she said firmly. “I’m sure Brody’s tunics would fit you well enough for now. They’re all so oversized, anyway.”

Veris glanced at Brody, who nodded. “She’s right. Take it off. Go naked for all I care, or wear mine. It’s up to you. Tomorrow, you’ll have to wear the Norwich shield. Tonight, do what you will. You’ve earned it.”

“I didn’t earn anything,” Veris replied, dropping his hands to his belt buckle. “Taylor did it all.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes searing her in one sweeping glance. “What did bring you to that spot just then, at such a perfect moment?”

Taylor shook her head. “Guilt. For messing up your life in the first place, back in old Norway. If I hadn’t been there, then you wouldn’t have had to deal with Davina at all tonight. Selkirk wouldn’t have been such an issue for you. I wouldn’t even be here. I thought about that and couldn’t lie on my bed and let you deal with it alone. And Brody wouldn’t let me go to you alone. So we headed out for Selkirk’s camp in the dark, on foot, because that was the stealthiest way we could think of. Then we came upon you and Davina. It was really that simple.”

He shed the filthy tunic and lifted his arm to look underneath. He was checking the wound in his side. The skin showed pink and healthy, like a newborn baby’s might. In a while, she knew, it would look as it always did.

Taylor tugged the bottom of the hauberk. “Take this off, too. You don’t need it here.”

Veris barely paused. He reached for the buckles, but Brody’s hand got there first. “Let me,” Brody said.

Taylor found herself smiling. But there was a roiling in her gut that was fast becoming familiar. She swallowed as coppery-tasting spit filled her mouth and clutched at her stomach. Not here. Not now. Please. She had already done this once today. Wasn’t that enough? She breathed through her nose. In. Out. Slow and steady.

Moving shakily, she eased herself into Brody’s chair, still breathing to stay on top of it.

“Taylor?” Brody said sharply.

She shook her head, trying to tell him she wasn’t able to answer right now. But that made the world tilt and roll. She clutched at the chair and moaned.

“My lord Norwich?” came a call from outside the tent.

“Come!” Brody bellowed.

Three pages hurried into the tent, carrying pitches and platters, which they sat upon the table in front of Taylor. With a nervous nod at the air between Brody and Veris, they hurried out again, pushing at each other’s backs in their haste to leave.

Brody picked up a hunk of bread, tore off a piece and handed it to Taylor. “Here. Quickly.”

She chewed it and swallowed, forcing down as much of the bread as possible, as fast as possible. Brody handed her a cup of water to follow.

After a few minutes the nausea began to ease and she relaxed.

“I thought morning sickness came…well, just in the morning,” Brody said in English.

“It can come at any time.” She rubbed her temple with a shaky hand. “Some women are sick all day long for the first trimester.” She gave him a weak smile. “I should consider myself lucky it’s just this little bit every now and again, I suppose.”

Brody grimaced. “Will it get worse? Better?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I know so little about pregnancy. I didn’t have a chance to consult with a doctor before this jump.”

Brody’s eyes widened. “At all?” He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “Jesus, Taylor.”

She smiled at him. “Listen to you. The worried father.”

Brody stared at her, startled. Then he grinned. “I guess. Yeah. Feels…odd. After all this time.”

“But you like it.”

His grin changed into a smile. His eyes grew warm. He touched her hand where it rested on the chair. “Yes. It makes me feel human again.”

Veris moved up closer to the big chair. He had been listening to their quick exchange in English. Now he pointed at Taylor, anger touching his features. “You are with child,” he accused.

Taylor straightened up, alarmed. She put the cup of water back on the table. The first reaction, to lie and say “No, I’m not” came and went unborn. She couldn’t do it. Not with Veris.

Brody turned to him. “You heard that much?”

“Your English is close enough to Saxon in places that I heard enough to confirm it. She is sick, then eats and recovers? I have seen enough women with child do that to know the symptoms. She bears a bastard in her belly. And you stand there and smile at her?” Veris’ face darkened with his building fury.

Brody gripped Veris’ arm. “You cannot pre-judge this—”

“What is there to prejudge?” Veris snarled. He turned his back on Taylor. “You are not able to plant the seed in her. Ergo she is a whoring wife.”

Taylor winced. In this day and age, wayward wives were dealt with severely. Veris carried the full prejudices of the period. The double standard was typical. He didn’t mind that she slept with him. But another man…

Brody dropped his hand. “And what do you suggest I do with her?” he asked.

“Behead her and be done with her and the bastard she carries,” Veris replied coldly, crossing his arms.

Taylor drew in a shuddering breath.

Brody nodded, as if he were considering the matter. “Perhaps you would like to do the deed, Veris?”

Veris’ arms loosened. Slipped a little. Brody had surprised him. “I?” he asked.

Brody shrugged. “Certainly. You feel she is of little benefit to either you or I. Why not?”

Veris glanced over his shoulder at Taylor. She held her breath, realizing what Brody was setting him up for.

Veris cleared his throat. “If you insist. I can take care of the matter.”

Brody nodded. “Then know this, Veris. When you kill her, you will be killing your own unborn child at the same time.”

Veris whirled to look at Taylor again, shock skittering over his face. “Not possible…” he croaked. But she could see from the expression in his eyes—hope, fear, joy—that he already believed it in his heart even if his mind needed dates, data, explanations.

Taylor nodded. “You aren’t used to thinking about time the way we are, yet. When I was in old Norway with you was six hundred years ago on your personal timeline. It was only six weeks ago for me. Back then, you were human.”

Veris sank down onto his knees in front of her. His big hands hovered over her abdomen, as if he were afraid of hurting her. “Mine?”

Taylor glanced up at Brody. He wore an odd little smile. He had hit Veris over the head with this, but the impact had splashed across Brody, too.

Veris lifted his gaze to her face. “How can I take back what I just said?” he whispered. “Everything you have done since you arrived here has proved over and over that I am a fool to resist opening my life and my arms to you…and now this. Do you know how great a gift this is, Taylor Yates? How much our kind yearn for this after a century or two, if we have a shred of humanity left in us at all?”

She stroked his face. “I love you too, Veris.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Love is too simple for what I feel,” he breathed.

Brody rested his hand on Veris’ shoulder. “Try kissing her instead,” he suggested. “She won’t break.”

Veris laughed and swept Taylor up off the seat in a move that made her dizzy with its speed and power, his arms around her in a bear hug. He held her up easily in his arms. And he kissed her.

This time, Taylor could sense the difference in his kiss. Veris was holding nothing back. Everything was in his kiss. All his emotions. His heart and soul. His love. All that he had to give, that he could not find the words to describe.

It was all there. Breathed into her.

Taylor wrapped her arms around him and clung for dear life. She could feel her body grow warmer as the kiss lengthened and the hunger for Brody and Veris which never seemed to fully slumber wakened to full roaring need.

She moaned and thrust her hand into Veris’ hair and her tongue into his mouth. She brought her leg up around his waist, pressing herself against him.

Veris broke the kiss to look at her. “Now?”

“Is it not the lady’s task to send her men off to war with a proper farewell?”

Brody cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. “Now,” he confirmed and kissed her. His kiss was heated, full of promise and pressure. Taylor gasped when he let her go.

Veris pulled her face back to him. “Yes, now,” he agreed, his voice low and hungry. He kissed her again. This time, his hand held her head steady and his tongue pushed into her mouth, stroking hers. She could feel his canines just above the line of his teeth, slightly lowered.

And pressed between them, his cock, a thick hard line, making the chainmail lift awkwardly.

Brody was unfastening the buckles on Veris’ shoulder as they kissed. Taylor’s mind leapt on to an image of Veris naked and her heart thudded. She pulled her mouth from Veris with a gasp and lowered herself to the ground, bringing her hands to his other shoulder to tackle the buckles there.

“What about you?” Veris asked of Brody.

“I wear no mail,” Brody pointed out. “Nor does Taylor. And we are both wearing far less clothing than you to begin with.”

“I had noticed that habit of yours for wearing less than…normal,” Veris murmured, standing still between them as they swiftly rid him of the hauberk. “It is intriguing.”

They lifted the hauberk away, then the undershirt. Without pausing or speaking, they continued to strip Veris of the remainder of his clothing, until he stood nude between them.

It was patently clear he enjoyed the undivided attention. His cock stood up straight and stiff from between his well-muscled thighs. Taylor stroked it and smiled when Veris hissed and his cock twitched. So she continued to stroke, her fingertips gliding over the soft ridge of tissue, until Veris snatched at her wrist. “Enough,” he warned with a growl. “Or you will have this end before it begins.”

She looked him in the eye. “We have hours yet. You can come more than once before you leave to fight the Fatimids. I want a proper farewell.”

Veris’ eyes widened. He looked at Brody.

Brody just laughed. “These matters are spoken of more openly in our time.” He moved next to Taylor and she saw that he was naked. While she had been teasing Veris, he had undressed. Veris would have been able to see Brody do that while she had been stroking him.

She hid her smile as an idea occurred to her. Veris was still holding her wrist, keeping her hand away from his cock. So she picked up Brody’s hand with her other hand and brought it to Veris’ cock instead. “As I am not permitted,” she said and stepped back a pace from Veris, breaking his hold on her wrist.

Instead, she took off her clothes, keeping her gaze on Veris’ face. She turned it into the most provocative, sensual striptease she could manage, given that she was wearing medieval menswear. But the leggings were a vague substitute for stockings and her hair was a feminine atomic bomb. While Brody stood behind Veris and slowly stroked his cock, his other arm locked over Veris’ shoulder. Veris bucked and writhed and the two watched her unbraid her hair and run her fingers through it with utter fascination. She let it stream over her shoulders and down her back and heard Brody sigh.

Taylor deliberately ran her hands over her body, staring Veris in the eye. “If I cannot touch you, I guess…” She let her hand creep down toward her clit.

Veris surged toward her with a sound that was half growl, half roar, breaking out of Brody’s grip on him.

Brody gave a half-laugh. “Taylor, take pity on him,” he said as Veris yet again swept her off her feet. “He’s not used to you at full strength.”

Veris pushed aside the curtain that divided the tent and dumped her on her back on the high mattress of her bed. “I will by God get used to you at full strength,” he declared, separating her thighs. He pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, his hands under her butt, his arms flexing. “Do that again,” he said hoarsely. “What you were going to do just then. Do it for me.”

Brody stepped to his side. “And me,” he added, his voice hoarse with arousal. His cock was thick and pulsing.

Taylor cupped her breasts, her heart raging, as she watched them gaze at her with such peculiar intensity. It made her pussy and clit pulse with hot eagerness to know she had such power over them.

She pulled at her nipples and sucked in her breath, her hips lifting, as the little pleasure arrowed straight to her clit.

Then she laid her hand flat on her stomach and pushed it down to her cleft. Even she could feel the heat generated from between her legs. When she slipped her hand between her legs, the slickness and amount of moisture was a surprise to her. She had rarely reached this level of wetness so quickly.

As soon as she pressed her finger up against her clit, she knew she was far too close to coming to do much more than that. Her hips bucked and a shiver ran through her. “Oh God…” she breathed. So much for the great tease.

“I cannot stand it,” Veris muttered. He gripped her hips and pushed his cock into her.

“That is a game two can play,” Brody said. He pushed on Veris’ shoulder, bending him forward and stepped behind him. Veris’ eyes closed and he groaned as Brody’s hand gripped his shoulder.

Taylor knew Brody had taken Veris from behind. Just the mental image, from memories of hundreds of other occasions, was enough to raise her pulse even higher and send a cascade of excitement racing through her. She suddenly wished for a mirror, or her special bedroom back home with its multitude of mirrors for occasions such as this.

“Harder,” she urged Veris. “Faster.” Her climax was starting to wash over her, pushed there by the twin tides of memory and stimulation. She massaged her clit, but the sensitive bud was engorged to the point of painfulness. A gentle touch was all it took.

She arched, crying out her pleasure as her climax broke over her. She felt Veris’ hand on her breast, his cock pounding into her, his gasping shout as he came.

Brody groaned, pumping into Veris in long, hard, pistoning strokes. It took him longer, but he threw his head back and growled, his canines showing, as he came in hard, working thrusts that made Veris gasp and push deeper into Taylor.

Then Brody released Veris and fell upon the bed next to Taylor, one knee up in the air.

Veris lifted Taylor up and placed her more securely on the bed, then sat on her other side. He let his fingers drift over her body in a way that made her nerves twitch and sizzle but not enough to arouse. Not yet, anyway. He seemed fascinated with her body.

But then, Veris always was.

“I will need to feed soon,” he said. “Certainly, before dawn. It has been a busy few days.”

Taylor glanced at Brody, who frowned and shook his head. “Not me. I’m fine. That’s odd. Technically, I should need to feed slightly sooner than Veris. Or slightly later, depending on which timeframe we’re using. But definitely, by now, I should be feeling the call one way or another.”

Veris was frowning, too, his lips moving. Then he shook his head. “Am I dead in your time?” he asked.

Taylor’s “No!” was half-formed before Brody squeezed her wrist.

“Why do you ask that?” Brody said.

“Why didn’t I come back with you?” Veris demanded. “The only reason I can think of is that something happened to me to prevent me from coming here. I would have to be the gods’ court jester to voluntarily stay away from the pair of you. Ergo, something happened to keep me away.” He looked grim. “I’d like to think nothing short of death would keep me from you.”

Taylor sought Brody’s hand and held it.

“We can’t tell you about your future,” Brody said, sitting up. Even to Taylor it sounded weak. Brody hated this as much as she did.

Veris shook his head. “Tell me that I will at least live long enough to see my child.”

Brody shook his head. “I can’t,” he said bleakly. “Not because I won’t, but because I don’t know.”

Veris gave a soft, painful sound.

Taylor covered her eyes to hide her tears. “We don’t know how we’re changing the future, Väinä,” she said. “We’ve tried to minimize it. Fix it. But we don’t know what we’ve done while we’ve undone the damage we’ve known about. We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get back. For us the future is just as blank as for you, now.”

She reached for Veris’ hand. “And I’m scared.”

He squeezed it.

Brody cleared his throat. “If…when we go, Taylor will be here no longer.”

Veris looked up, his eyes narrowing. “We’ve spoken of this already. You won’t remember me. Not like this.”

“Yes, I know. What I haven’t told you about is that there’s a letter in my chest over there. A letter from me, to me. There’s details in it that only I could possibly know about. Give it to me. When I read it, I’ll know that only I could have written it. It will help you convince me of these days.”

Veris lifted Taylor’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “You two are preparing to leave.”

“We’re trying to minimize the damage our departure will make,” Taylor told him. “Last time, when I left, I scarred your life in a way that six hundred years later, it was still affecting you. We’re trying to make sure that doesn’t happen again. We’re trying to make sure you—and Brody, who will have no memory of the time we were here—can deal with the aftereffects.”

“We don’t know when we get to leave,” Brody added. “But we’ve never lingered in a time not our own for this long. We think it will be soon and we have to work on the assumption that it will happen at any time.”

Veris frowned again, staring down at the white coverlet on the bed. His lips were moving again. “Can you hear that music?” he asked. He lifted his gaze to meet theirs.

Brody shook his head. “What music?”

Veris’ frown deepened. “Listen!” He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes to hear better. “And words…” he murmured. “Strange ones.”

Taylor strained to listen, but all she could hear beyond the tent was snoring and the crackle of campfires and the odd murmur of men. Horses snorting. And far off, the night winds of the desert. Strange cries of night prayers from the eastern religions.

No music.

“Can you sing the words?” Brody asked.

“You are the singer,” Veris muttered.

“As well as you can, then,” Brody coaxed.

“They’re a language I don’t know.” Veris closed his eyes, concentrating. The frown smoothed out. His lips moved as he listened to the far off music. Taylor realized that with his vampire senses he would be able to detect something far out of her range. So she lay as silently as she could and waited.

Finally, he sang-chanted softly in English, the words ill-formed and stilted: “…I can take you higher…I’m on fire…”

“Fuck me!” Brody said, sitting bolt upright.

“That’s Bruce Springsteen,” Taylor whispered.

Veris opened his eyes, looking at them. “What is it?”

Taylor licked her lips. She didn’t know what to say. So she settled for the truth. “I don’t know how you can be hearing that music, Veris. It’s impossible. You simply can’t be. It hasn’t been written yet. It’s from our time.”

“If it’s impossible, then why am I hearing it, then?” Brody asked softly. He was breathing hard. He reached for Veris’ hand. “I think…”

Taylor reached for Veris, fright tearing through her, as the distinct beat of Springsteen’s ‘80s hit echoed in her mind. “No! Not yet!”

Veris gathered her up against his chest, his lips against hers. “Stay with me. Stay forever. Please… Brody!”

Chapter Sixteen

The Present

Bruce Springsteen was screaming at the top of his lungs about freight trains in his head, which Taylor could fully appreciate right then. It felt like a whole friggin’ rail yard was using her brain as parking space, running backward and forward over her brain cells for the hell of it.

“Come on, Taylor, open your eyes, damn it. Let me see them.”

The light wouldn’t go away, which was worse. She tried to push it away, but it persisted.

Finally, she gave up and opened her eyes. Bad mistake.

“Sick,” she croaked. That was all the warning she could give. She tried to turn her head. She was lifted and turned and held expertly and a bucket slid underneath her to catch what she brought up, which wasn’t much. When she was finished, she was laid back on something soft.

Finally, she could see without being blinded by the low light in the room.

She recognized the ceiling. It was the guest room in her house. Their house.

Almost afraid to look, she turned her head to take in the rest of the room. She was lying on one of the guest beds, an IV drip in her arm, the pole next to her bed.

Brody lay on the other bed, an IV pole and a blood bag on his. He was slowly blinking up at the ceiling.

Veris sat on a chair between them. He was rolling up a blood pressure cuff and had a stethoscope around his neck. But he was wearing the college professor suit pants and shirt he would have worn in Europe and he looked like he had been wearing them for days. They had deep wrinkles embedded in them. The shirt was rolled up to the elbows and open at the collar.

He looked as haggard as Taylor had ever seen him.

She began to cry, unable to help herself.

Brody yanked his IV out, hauled himself to the side of the bed and threw his arms around Veris’ shoulders and buried his face against his neck. Fine shudders and ripples passed through his body.

Veris tried to hug Brody, but his arms were trapped. So he waited.

Brody finally sat back and pushed his hand through his hair and twisted it back off his shoulders. “I stopped needing to feed about two days ago. That’s when you got back here, yes?”

Veris nodded. He reached for Taylor’s hand, gently withdrew the IV and held it, his fingers stroking hers. “I can’t even tell you why in realistic terms. Something just told me I had to come back. I chartered a flight and arrived back and found you both in the library. Taylor was bleeding all over the floor from a deep cut on the shoulder.” Veris shut his eyes and shook his head for a second. “I’ve never had my heart stop by itself…until now.” He opened his eyes again and drew a deep breath. “I’ve been too busy tending you to review my history and for all I knew you were back somewhere in Brody’s timeline. God knows, that was violent enough.” He took off the stethoscope and loosened another button. “So where were you?”

Taylor glanced at Brody. She tried to sit up and found herself surprisingly weak.

“Take it easy,” Veris told her. “You’ve been without food for days.” He helped her sit up and propped her against the headboard. He wiped her tears away with his thumb and sat on the edge of her bed and looked at Brody.

“Brace yourself,” Brody told Veris.

Veris lifted a brow.

“Jerusalem,” Brody said simply. “The first siege. Review your memories. You’ll find all you know about what happened has changed, now, from the moment we met.”

Veris frowned, his focus turning inward.

Taylor glanced at Brody again. She wondered if this was the best and kindest way for Veris to discover what had happened there. But it was the most efficient way, certainly. His own memories were the most accurate way of telling him what had happened.

Veris’ breath halted. “Davina…” he breathed. “Dear God.” His eyes closed and his breathing began again, more quickly this time, as he worked his way through the four days they had spent in 1099 and their combined seduction of a changed Veris.

His head slowly bowed as he realized just how close he had come to destroying his own future. He pressed his fingers to his head, hunched over, as if he were in pain. “No,” he muttered thickly. Then he jerked his head up to look at Taylor. “A child? You’re pregnant?”

She nodded.

“I was gone. I had gone away,” he said helplessly.

“I know,” she said simply.

“In my arrogance…” He bent over again, clutching the arm of the chair, his knuckles white with the power of his grip. His shoulders bowed, shaking.

Brody detached Veris’ hands with sheer force, one after another, then wrapped his arms around the bigger man.

Veris tried to turn his head away, but Brody caught his face in one hand and held it steady.

Veris opened his eyes. Tears, slightly pink, glittered and then fell. “It hurts. This hurts more than anything I know.”

“I know, my lover,” Brody murmured. He held his hand out to Taylor. “But you don’t have to hurt on your own.”

Taylor worked her way across the bed using Brody’s strength and wrapped herself around Veris. His big hand found hers in a painful grip.

He laid his head against Brody’s chest and wept.

* * * * *

“You ‘died’ a few days after the siege, from complications from the wound you got from the spear you took protecting Sir William,” Brody murmured, flipping through a dog-eared, year-old National Geographic. He was wearing one-way wrap-around sunglasses, a long trench coat and his hair was tied back. Even so, Taylor had a sinking feeling the medical receptionist had recognized him, because she was staring at him almost nonstop.

Veris glanced at his Tag Heuer and grimaced. “Forty minutes he’s kept us waiting. This is ridiculous, Taylor. You’re a woman of means. You don’t have to be kept standing in line like this. I’m not surprised the prick gave you the run around last time. He doesn’t seem to give a damn about his patients at all.”

She squirmed at the reminder. “The reception area doesn’t really look quite the same, though. More changes?” she asked.

They had been discovering all sorts of small and large changes in their world the last four days. The car that Taylor drove was now a Porsche, not the Audi she’d had before. She discovered that she loved driving it and was good at it, too, although both Veris and Brody hated seeing her behind the wheel.

There were small changes to the layout of the house, the clothes she wore, the people she worked with and her own personal memories.

Brody and Veris had been systematically working through their own personal memories and discovering the changes that had taken place. So far, nothing earth-shattering had been uncovered. Most of it had been interesting, though.

“Ms. Taylor?” the receptionist called. “Dr. Cruz will see you now.” She waved from the desk toward the door where, presumably, the doctor’s office was.

They all stood up.

“I’m sorry, only your husband is permitted to accompany you in Doctor’s office for the consultation,” the receptionist said primly.

Taylor looked her in the eye. “They are my husbands,” she said flatly.

The receptionist’s mouth opened as her jaw descended.

Taylor looked at Brody and Veris. “Come on.” She stalked over to the door marked “Dr. Cruz,” her temper already simmering.

When they got inside the consultation room, Brody kissed her cheek soundly. “Damn, I love you, woman.”

Veris crossed his arms. “Just mind her claws there. She’s ready to bite.”

“Hell, yeah,” she growled. “I’ll abide by common sense rules, but being dictated to by a star-struck teenager quoting ‘da rulz’ pisses me off.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Brody suggested. He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Figure we have another forty minutes in here now?” He dropped his sunglasses to the edge of his nose and looked at her over the end of them. “Your blonde-model fucking doctor is not endearing himself.”

“Not with me, either,” Taylor admitted.

“Then why are we here?” Veris asked.

“Now? To make a point,” Taylor told him.

Veris smiled. “How much of a point can we make?”

“Just don’t be cruel.”

“Moi?” He touched his chest.

Brody straightened up, pulled the band out of his hair and put away his sunglasses. He dropped the coat off his shoulders. Underneath, he wore outrageous death metal band clothing—low-rise skinny jeans, ripped in several places. Two tee shirts in different colors, also with designer rips and tears and chains, and the band’s logo in pitted and rubbed iron hanging from his neck. Leather cuffs around his wrists were studded with iron. Neither tee shirt had sleeves, which emphasized his nicely muscled arms. His black eyes and brows seemed to scowl at everything and everyone.

He was the complete antithesis to Veris, who wore a silk, dark-gray business suit that gleamed with polish, good taste and obscene expense. His blonde hair was pulled back into a neat little band at the back and his blue eyes radiated power and blazing intelligence.

Taylor looked down at her pleated skirt, stilettos and stockings. The skirt came to her knees, the stilettos were a conservative three inches high. She wore a cardigan, buttoned up, in dove gray, that matched her eyes and the gray in the tartan of the skirt. She wouldn’t raise browse in the middle of the street like Dr. Edward Cruz’s blonde did. But one of the changes that had taken place when they got back was her hair. It was down to her waist now—full, thick and with bangs cut to fall over one eye. She wore it loose as often as was practical and was rewarded by Veris and Brody plunging their hands into it and turning her head for a kiss and more, or simply just playing with it.

Under the skirt she wore a garter belt to hold up the stockings and nothing else. When Brody and Veris had discovered that new habit they had driven her mad with delight with their habit of running their hands up under her skirt, or simply throwing her over their knee and flipping her skirt up…

She had Brody to thank for that inspiration.

“Should we sit down?” she suggested.

“No, I don’t think so,” Brody said.

There was a sound outside the office. Voices talking. “The receptionist,” Veris said softly. “You’ve been recognized, Brody.”

“That’ll work for us now,” Brody said.

The door opened and Dr. Edward Cruz sailed into the room, only to be brought up short by the fact that Brody and Veris weren’t tucked in neat and tidy into the two miniature consultation chairs sitting in front of the desk. Cruz almost ran into them and stepped back a half a step, looking up at them.

Cruz was a much different man from the cocky, suave doctor Taylor had consulted ten days ago. He looked at least ten years older, although that wasn’t possible. The thirty or forty extra pounds he carried could account for him looking older. Stress and unhealthy living would claim the rest. He had silver in his hair that hadn’t been there before and dark rings under his eyes. He wore a wedding ring Taylor hadn’t noticed before.

His clothing was department store cheap, the striped shirt straining at the buttons, to cover the excess bulge around his belly.

Cruz pulled his white coat in around himself, glancing up at Brody, then up higher at Veris. “I…er…” He looked at Taylor. “Ms. Yates, I only need you and your husband for this consult.”

“These are my husbands,” Taylor said. “Brody Gallagher and Professor Veris Gerhardsson.”

Brody was the one who held out his hand. Veris crossed his arms.

Cruz nervously shook Brody’s hand, then smoothed down his tie and moved around to his side of the desk. “Would you like to sit down?”

“There’s not enough seats,” Brody pointed out. “We’ll stand.”

Cruz put down the file he was carrying and glanced at Brody. “My receptionist says that you are in a rock band, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Fuck that,” Brody said. “I wouldn’t touch rock music with a ten foot barge pole. Nocturnal Rain does death metal.”

Cruz cleared his throat. “I see.” He turned his attention to Veris. “And are you the Gerhardsson who wrote the paper about the preservation of the Latin language as the language of sciences until the nineteenth century and its contribution to medical nomenclature?”

“I am,” Veris replied calmly.

Cruz shifted his gaze from Brody to Veris and back. Taylor knew he was trying to assimilate the differences between the two and how Taylor could possibly be with both of them at once.

Brody straightened his shoulders, pushed his hand through his hair, and twisted it back off his shoulders. “Dr. Cruz, you have been in your office for two and a half minutes and so far you have failed to address any direct medical concerns about your patient at all. Instead you have quizzed me and Professor Gerhardsson on our resumes. Added to that, the forty-minute wait in your reception area, which was neither necessary, nor apologized for. I find this utterly unacceptable behavior for a member of the medical profession. I will be reporting it to the California State Medical Board.”

Cruz paled.

Veris grinned. “Isn’t Percy Brown the Chair of the Board there? I was part of the hearing when he defended his professorial thesis at UCLA. We go back a long way, Percy and I.” He winked at Cruz. “You might want to add that to your resume check.” He picked up Taylor’s hand. “Let’s go, Taylor.”

Brody pulled out his cell phone. “Yes, I’ve got someone much more suitable in mind. He makes house calls and he knows how to be on time, too.”

Cruz stood up as they turned to leave. “I think there has been a misunderstanding!”

Taylor looked at him over her shoulder. “Yep, you did get it wrong.” She shut the door after them.

* * * * *

For the first time in weeks, the weather had broken and that night, it was cool enough to light a fire, although it wasn’t cold enough to huddle by it. The firelight was just decorative, lending ambience to the downstairs level of the library.

Taylor sat on the Craftsman chair watching the flames, wondering what on earth Brody was up to. He had made her dress up, even picking out the white dress. Now she sat here alone.

She heard voices and looked up as Brody and Veris came downstairs, arguing. Not strenuously. Not seriously. But Brody was forcing some sort of issue that Veris didn’t like.

Brody had been doing that a lot, lately, she realized.

“Just shut up and get in there,” Brody finally said, exasperated. “She’s waiting for you.”

A long moment of silence, while Taylor’s heart thundered. She sat up straight, watching the doorway.

Veris finally appeared, Brody behind him, carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and an ice bucket.

The champagne and ice bucket and her white dress told her what this was.

Brody was recreating her birthday, three months ago. Before everything had changed. Before she had destroyed it all by making that awful, fateful request of Veris.

Only, why? What was Brody doing?

Taylor clasped her hands between her knees and remained silent. Veris, wearing the more casual black leather pants and sleeveless white shirt she preferred than the professor outfits he wore in public, pulled the other matching chair over close by her.

Brody put the champagne on the table next to Taylor. As neither of them could drink the stuff it was a symbolic ritual to open the bottle and pour glasses. But Veris loved the symbol and the smell. He insisted the human ritual be maintained, especially around Taylor. So they had opened the bottle for her birthday. Now, even Taylor could not drink it. Brody pulled up a third chair from across the room and settled into it after handing them all a frosty tall glass.

Veris took breath. And another. “This is to be your birthday present. The one we failed to give you.”

She nodded. “I gathered.”

His gaze skittered away from her face and came back. “Brody insists you need to know this. I…think otherwise.”

“Or your courage would have you wish otherwise,” Brody said.

Veris twirled the champagne in his glass. “Yes,” he said flatly. “I do not deal well with…these matters. Not when they are unhappy ones.” He held up the flute. “I would give anything to be able to drink this. Dutch courage.” He put it on the table with a grimace.

Taylor swallowed. “You don’t have to do this, if it makes you feel this bad—”

“Yes, he does,” Brody interrupted. “We’ve shielded him long enough. We’ve read his mind, interpreted, made allowances, stepped around him and tried to understand him long enough. It’s time he met us halfway. It’s time. He left you weeping in that chair and fled to Europe to sulk because you asked for a favor. A favor.” He put his glass down. “Veris, you have to tell her why. She needs to really understand. She stepped in front of a stake for you, she killed Davina for you. She’s going to be the mother of your child. Our child.” He paused. “I still have trouble believing that one,” he murmured and shook his head. “All that and you’re going to baulk over revealing a few ugly truths about your ugly nature?”

Veris’ chest lifted as he drew a breath. “Put like that…”

Brody sat back in his chair.

Veris let out his breath again, studying Taylor. “It’s still difficult,” he confessed. “Made harder, now I know I left you crying that night.” He rubbed his temple. “You shocked me, asking to be turned. I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t think you would ask for years yet. Not until you noticed your first gray hairs and your metabolism started to slow. I was so sure of it, I had completely relaxed.” He sighed. “What made you ask?”

“You did,” Taylor said. “When we were in old Norway and you were so happy to be human. So in love with the pleasures of it. I said something about the compensations of immortality. I don’t quite remember what I said, but I remember exactly what you said. It is carved on my heart. You said ‘You think watching those you love age and die isn’t a high enough price?’”

Brody swore softly.

Veris closed his eyes.

Taylor could feel her tears building, but there was nothing she could do about them now. She had to keep going. “We keep time jumping and living this dangerous life and just being human is dangerous enough these days. Disease and crime and heaven knows what. You two are impervious to it all. Do you spend your time worry about if I’m going to come home in a body bag each day? If you’re going to get a call from the police about how I got mugged? That I was in an accident? Or I get the bad news from the oncology department about some rapidly spreading cancer? A brain embolism and you can’t reach me in time to do anything about it? A stroke?” She wiped her cheeks dry. “I suddenly realized that you two must live with those fears about me every day. So I thought I would take that fear away from you. Forever. If I was vampire, if you turned me, then you wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

She put her glass on the table and pressed her hands between her knees. “I didn’t get the reaction I was expecting when I asked to be turned.” She shrugged.

Veris leaned forward, his hands together, his index fingers just touching his lips. “I’ve never turned anyone. I’m not sure that I could. It would mean taking away your humanity to do it.”

“But you have taken so many lives,” Taylor said.

“In battle, yes. In defense. I have never drained a human life as a vampire, watched their life fade in their eyes, made them drink my blood and seen them waken as one of my kind, where all humanity is gone and they go on changeless, timeless and eternal.” Veris shook his head. “Live life as a vampire long enough and you begin to find humanity a precious thing. I have selfishly enjoyed yours. I want you to stay human for as long as possible. To be alive, vital, free to live and die. Not trapped outside time like Brody and I are.”

“Well, for at least seven months, I will have to be.”

Veris smiled. “And at least another six after that.”

Taylor shook her head. “Breast feeding. Of course, you will want to do it all properly.”

“Of course!” Veris said. “It’s life! That’s my whole point. In the four years we’ve been together, I’ve watched you change. Actually change. Brody and I cannot do that. Your hair…your beautiful hair. And your face has developed small lines. Especially around the eyes and the corners of your mouth. You’ve put on weight around your breasts and hips.”

“Mmm…” Brody agreed with an appreciative growl.

Taylor glanced at him, startled.

“After the baby is born, your hips will spread, too,” Veris told her. “Not fat, but the actual bones. But even a few pounds may creep on, despite all the exercise and sex you manage to sneak into your day. I will enjoy every tiny change, because that’s what it means to be human. It’s something that Brody and I have not been able to share with anyone, ever. You asked to take that away from me, from both of us.”

Taylor sat back. “I…hadn’t seen it that way,” she said softly.

“The worst of it,” Veris said, “Is that if I had managed to overcome my prejudices and turned you on your birthday when you had asked, then you would have been protected while you were in Jerusalem with Brody and I would not have raced home from Europe to find you bleeding all over the floor.” He grimaced. “You would have been protected and the baby lost to us.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the knuckles. “You are mine, Maggie Taylor Yates.”

Brody picked up her other hand. “And mine.” He slid his lips across her fingers, a delicate nuzzle. “We’ve marked you in a way that makes you ours forever.” He touched her neck. “No one in our world will ever dispute that. But we aren’t interested in the politics of our world and never have been. You’ve brought us back into the human world. You’ve given us life again.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small box and opened it. A ring was nestled inside. “Stay human, Taylor. For a while longer, anyway. We will do everything in our power to protect you and the babe. Please say you will.” He slipped the ring onto her left hand. It was a left-handed swirl of green stones. Emeralds, Taylor assumed.

“Let us be as human as we can, at your side,” Veris said, taking her hand from Brody’s. He placed an identical box on the table and slipped a similar ring onto her hand, only the swirl was to the right and the stones were blue. Sapphires, almost the same color as Veris’ eyes. He brought the rings together and twisted them. The swirls locked together like yin and yang curves. Taylor caught her breath. The arrangement looked like one elaborate engagement ring. It was gorgeous.

“Of course I will,” she whispered. “How could I not? Although how on earth am I going to marry both of you?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Brody told her. “Sooner or later. Boy genius there has been thinking about it.” He lifted Taylor up and put her on his knee. “I love you, the future Mrs. Gallagher-Gerhardsson.”

“What if I want to keep my name?” she asked primly.

Brody blinked. “I’ll still love you?”

She smiled. “Good answer.” She kissed him.

“Hey, my turn,” Veris complained as Brody’s hand slid under the hem of her dress and the kiss grew slow, hot and sweaty.

Taylor was passed over to Veris. “Hi,” she said, her voice thick.

“That’s a habit you really need to keep up,” Brody said approvingly. “I so like that. Jerusalem, right?”

“Mmm,” she agreed, pressing her lips up against Veris’.

“What is he talking about?” Veris asked, his big hand curling her thigh and sliding up under her dress. He pushed higher and higher until he reached her hip, then her ass and found…nothing. His thumb pressed into her naked abdomen and her hip tilted forward in a twitch of nerves. He curved his hand around to cup her ass, his fingertips pressing into the crease of her ass.

“I see,” he breathed into her mouth.

“So do I,” Brody murmured. “The view from here is spectacular.”

The front doorbell chimed.

“Damn, it’s nine already?” Brody complained, standing up. “This shouldn’t take too long, then I’m definitely picking this conversation up where we’re leaving it.” He kissed Taylor’s hand again and went through to the front door, heading off the maid and answering it himself.

“Another surprise?” Taylor asked Veris, returning to her chair and straightening up her dress.

“This one is all Brody’s,” Veris replied, easing the front of his pants. “I hope he means it when he says it won’t take long.” He stood up. “I find most of Brody’s surprises less than comfortable.”

“Baby,” Taylor teased him.

But Veris was already concentrating on sounds coming from the front door, listening to more than she could hear. His brow lifted. “Son of a…” He laughed and looked at Taylor. “You’ll like this.” He relaxed and crossed his arms.

About forty seconds later, Brody reappeared, followed by a tall, olive skinned man in a good suit, carrying a heavy briefcase. The man was familiar…

“Alexander!” Taylor scrambled to her feet, shock delaying her. Veris helped her up.

Brody led Alexander forward, a hand on his arm. “You remember Taylor, of course. Our fiancé, Maggie Taylor Yates. Taylor of course remembers you. For her it was only a week ago. Taylor, Alexander is now Dr. Alexander Karim.”

Alexander shook her hand. “Naila Fathiyya, I remember you most fondly. You changed my life and are the reason I stand here at this moment.”

Taylor felt her hand fall back to her side. “I…really?”

Brody laughed. “You might have built up to it, Alex.” He rested his hand on Veris’ shoulder. “My partner, Veris Gerhardsson. You remember him as William, or Will.”

“Yes, of course. Veris. Well met.” Alexander held out his hand. “You were the other reason I am here.”

Veris lifted his brow as he shook Alexander’s hand. “Is that so?”

Alexander smiled, showing very white, even teeth. “All three of you. I nearly had it figured out, the relationship between you, when Taylor ‘died’, but then neither of you seemed to mourn her properly. Then there was all the confusion about Lady Selkirk’s death. I heard some strange whispers that Taylor herself had killed Selkirk’s wife. After the siege was over it became hard to track down facts. It took me years.”

“But you did,” Brody concluded. “And you confronted me with them.”

“You didn’t tell me any of this,” Veris accused.

“I was the Holy Land with Richard at the time. Getting killed, as I remember. You were back in Italy. Alexander found me at Acre. He was vampire by then.”

“It was the three of you who started me on the road to finding vampires in the first place,” Alexander explained. “You gave me hope that one day I might once again practice medicine. Real medicine. And now I am.”

“Which is why he is here, in part,” Brody explained.

Alexander nodded. He reached into the briefcase and produced a card, which he held out to Taylor. “I am a most sought-after private physician now. One that the stars pay a small fortune to have call upon them. Their fees allow me to do my research and add certain special clients to my roster. I would be honored to add you to my list of patients, as I have already treated you and know part of your history.” He smiled. “How is the arm, by the way?”

“Fine,” Taylor said. “Nearly perfectly healed already.”

“These days I would use anesthetic and sutures. You were desperately trying to wish yourself back to a simple emergency room for that, weren’t you?” He laughed.

Taylor nodded. “But you did well, all the same.”

“I can call upon you tomorrow, with a nurse and mobile ultrasound scanning equipment. What is a good time for you?”

“Ten thirty would be good.”

Alexander nodded. “Ten thirty it is. Good night, then, everyone. I’ll leave you to your celebrations. Brody told me the good news. Congratulations, all of you.” He lifted a book out of his bag and laid it on the table. “For you, Taylor.”

“I’ll see you out,” Brody murmured.

Alexander nodded at Veris and followed Brody from the room.

Veris picked up the book and read the title. “Son of a bitch,” he said and gave it to Taylor.

She looked at the grainy sepia-styled map on the front, which showed a copy of the old walled city of Jerusalem underneath the large typeface of the title.

Warrior Wives: The Mysterious Women of the First Crusade who fought, lived and disappeared from the history books—Naila Fathiyya, Davina of Selkirk, Tyra of Norwich.

The author was Alexander Karim.

“If he knows you killed Davina, then this is a tribute to you,” Veris said, tapping the book.

Taylor put the book down and shivered. “I didn’t do anything to impress him that much,” she said.

“You impressed me enough to make me change houses, shields and give up a bad habit that had been slowly killing me for seventy years,” Veris pointed out. “And you did it in four days.”

“But you already loved me,” Taylor pointed out.

“I had no idea who you were,” Veris said flatly. “You were Brody’s slutty wife and human at that. And you were in my way.”

She shivered again, staring at him. “What changed your mind?” she whispered, stunned.

Veris drew her into his arms and tilted her head back to look up at him. “You did. You and Brody.”

Taylor felt Brody press up against her from behind. His arms hooked around Veris’ neck. “Me and Taylor what?”

“Seduced me across time,” Veris replied. “And saved my life while you were at it.” He kissed them both. “I want to try something. I’ve always wanted to make love to you both in that little cottage high up on the side of the Welsh mountains, the one we used when the War of the Roses was at its peak, remember, Brody? We hid out for five years or so, waiting for the turmoil to die down.”

“There actually were roses all over it in summer and rose hips in spring.”

“Keep it in mind, Brody,” Veris said. “Summer, roses, heat, the inside of the cottage.” He lifted Taylor’s chin again. “You get to take us there. If I’m right, we’re the direction, you’re the power. You get to come and go.”

“How?”

“Close your eyes and decide to jump. And we jump. Stay in physical contact with her, Brody.”

Taylor closed her eyes.

* * * * *

And opened them when the air changed and the sound of doves cooing alerted her.

“No…” she breathed fearfully, looking around the small dry stone structure. There was a rough, hand-hewn, pergola-like lean-to outside the window, covered with roses that provided shade against a beautiful, summer-blue sky. Jagged mountains painted the backdrop.

“I’m not wearing a red shirt,” Brody said.

“Then you’ll live long and prosper,” Veris replied.

Taylor was grabbed and turned. Brody laughed and kissed her. “You bloody well did it!”

Veris swept her off her feet, his arm under her back and her knees. She was wearing some sort of simple kirtle and chemise and her hair was loose. “Exactly where I wanted you,” he muttered. He laid her on the built-in bed, with its pushed-back shutters and shed his clothing as she lay there and watched.

Brody came up behind Veris, brushed past and settled next to Taylor. He undressed her, then himself. “If we really can control the jumps…” he began.

“Not now,” Veris said firmly. “We’ll discuss it later. For now we talk of nothing but love and frailty and all that yucky emotional stuff that makes us more human.” He picked up Taylor’s hand, curled it around his hard, erect cock and gave a shuddering gasp at her touch. “I’m ready.”

Brody groaned as Taylor gripped him, too. “Always,” he added.

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More vampire romance fiction by Tracy Cooper-Posey:

The
Kiss Across Time Series
Book III

Kiss Across Chains

When dying becomes an act of love.

It is four years since Taylor and Brody almost lost Veris during the First Crusade. Now they know how to control time jumps, they have settled into a very nearly perfect, nearly human life, raising their daughter Marit.

When Brody defies Queen Tira to protect Marit, the three of them jump back three days in time to collect evidence the queen set up Brody for a drug bust in retribution. The jump sends them back to Brody’s personal nightmare: Fifth century Constantinople.

While Brody survives as a flogged slave, Taylor masquerades as the wife of an aristocrat and searches for Brody to release him. They must wait for Veris to find them before jumping home and Taylor watches each brutal chariot race, wondering if this will be Brody’s last. Brody once died in the Hippodrome and he is human this time, too….

Kiss Across Chains will be available July 1, 2013

About the Author

Tracy Cooper-Posey writes romantic suspense, hot erotic paranormal and urban fantasy romances. She has published over 50 novels since 1999, been nominated for five CAPAs including Favorite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award.

She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book Of The Year. She has been a national magazine editor and for a decade she taught romance writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys sewing, history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

You can find her web site at http://www.TracyCooperPosey.com.

Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Blood Knot Series (Urban Fantasy Paranormal Series)

Blood Knot

Blood Stone

Blood Unleashed (Upcoming)

Blood Revealed (Upcoming)

Beloved Bloody Time Series (Paranormal Futuristic Time Travel)

Bannockburn Binding

Byzantine Heartbreak

Romani Armada

Kiss Across Time Series (Paranormal Time Travel)

Kiss Across Time

Kiss Across Swords

Kiss Across Chains

Guardian Bonds (Gargoyle Paranormal Series)

Carson’s Night

Beauty’s Beasts

Sabrina’s Clan (Upcoming)

Destiny’s Trinities (Urban Fantasy Romance Series)

Beth’s Acceptance

Mia’s Return

Sera’s Gift

Short Paranormals

Solstice Surrender

Eva’s Last Dance

The Vistaria Affair Series (Romantic Suspense)

Red Leopard

Black Heart

Blue Knight

White Dawn (Upcoming)

Silver Noon (Upcoming)

Golden Day (Upcoming)

Go-get-’em Women (Short Romantic Suspense Series)

The Royal Talisman

Delly’s Last Night

Ningaloo Nights

Dare to Return

Sian’s Run (Upcoming)

Jewells of the Morrow series (Historical Romantic Suspense)

Diana By The Moon

Heart of Vengeance

The Perilous Maiden (Upcoming)

To Soothe a Savage Heart (Upcoming)

The Heart of the Enemy (Upcoming)

The Cherlebury Rose (Upcoming)

The Duchess of Winter (Upcoming)

Despite The Sands Of Time (Upcoming)

Scandalous Sirens (Historical Romance Series)

Forbidden

Dangerous Beauty

Rhys Davies’ untitled story (Upcoming)

Romantic Thrillers Series

Fatal Wild Child

Dead Again

Dead Double

Terror Stash

Contemporary Romances

Lucifer’s Lover

An Inconvenient Lover

The Sherlock Holmes Series

Chronicles of the Lost Years

The Case of the Reluctant Agent

For reviews, excerpts, and more about each title, visit Tracy’s site and click on each title in turn: http://tracycooperposey.com/books/tracys-trilogies-series/

Copyright Information

This is an original publication of Tracy Cooper-Posey

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2013 by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Text design by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Cover design by Dar Albert

Wicked Smart Designs
http://wickedsmartdesigns.com

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

FIRST EDITION: November 2010

SECOND EDITION: June 2013

ISBN:  9781927423899 Amazon Edition

Cooper-Posey, Tracy

Kiss Across Swords/Tracy Cooper-Posey—2nd Ed.

1.Vampires 2.MMF romance 3.Vampire romance 4.Time Travel 5.Ancient Norway 6. First Crusade 7.Erotic Romance 8.Menage 9.Vikings 10.Time Travel Romance

Table of Contents

- The Kiss Across Time Series Book II
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- The Kiss Across Time Series Book III