willin’ to suffer.
That’s me. The Michelangelo of cosmic catastrophes. I’m just workin’ on a different ceiling.
“Ye’re beautiful, and I willna let anyone take ye from me. Ye make me a man again.”
Fortune felt like covering her ears. She’d gotten what she deserved for listening at the door. She’d spent a few minutes exploring the small sleeping-room—wondering at lights you had to switch on, a sleeping pad with legs—then gone looking for Leith. When she’d heard his voice, she couldn’t resist eavesdropping.
How had it happened so fast? She’d been gone for less than ten minutes, and he was declaring his love for the overabundant Lily. She should’ve known. When he’d first seen Lily out in the yard, his eyes had glazed and turned predatory.
Fine. She’d put a positive spin on this. If cosmic forces had decided to repopulate the earth with males, then they’d obviously need a man with a tomcat mentality. They’d probably scoured the time continuum for the most overactive libido they could find.
She blinked back unexpected tears. What did she care? She didn’t even like him.
Of course the tears were for Blade. How would he take the news? After all, he couldn’t possibly compete with Leith. Leith was…a rotten piece of space sewage! How dare he seduce their host’s wife and put them in jeopardy!
Armed with righteous anger, Fortune flung the door open and charged into the room. She skidded to a stop when she found only Leith. He held one of Lily’s knives in his hand.
“OK, where is she? Lily, if you’re hiding, come out. Iknow everything.” Fortune swung her gaze to take in the faded floral couch, the ripped leather recliner, and the coffee table cluttered with what seemed like hundreds of knives. Hmm . Maybe she’d been a bit precipitous. Lily with a fresh supply of knives would be a formidable opponent.
“Are ye daft? Lily and Blade are outside.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Then who were you talking to?”
Humor flared in his eyes. “Ye listened at the door.”
She glanced at the floor, noting a burned spot in the carpet. “I didn’t.” She inspected the ceiling, wondering about the hole right above the couch. “I absolutely wouldn’t.” She stared at the wall, pondering the slash mark right in the middle of the photo of a younger Blade. Either a bad practice session for Lily, or a momentary problem in paradise. “I was walking down the hall, and I staggered into the door. Weak from hunger, I think. Anyway, I couldn’t help hearing.”
“Ye dinna lie well, lass.”
He smiled, and she fought to maintain her affronted, who, me ? expression. “If you weren’t talking to Lily, then you must’ve been talking to”—she peered at his hand—“the knife?”
He glanced away, but couldn’t hide his embarrassed flush.
“Ye dinna understand the relationship between a man and his weapon.” He lovingly caressed the smooth wooden handle.
She imagined his fingers sliding across the swell of her breasts. She shivered at the vivid image.
“A sharp blade protects a man from enemies.” He touched the gleaming point with his fingertip.
She imagined his fingertip touching her nipples, her nipples puckering to exclamation points of yearning.
“A wise man keeps his knife close.”
He glanced down at his jeans, and she understood his sudden look of frustration. Not even a blade would fit between skin and fabric. Good thing. She was jealous, and jealousy of an inanimate object did not indicate great mental health.
“Yes, but you talked to the thing.”
“Have ye ne’er talked to something that couldna talk back?”
“Never. I mean, I said a few words to the cat, but it couldn’t be termed a conversation.”
“Never?”
He stared at her, and she resisted the urge to squirm.
“OK. When I was a kid, Mom wasn’t around much, so I used to talk to Skirky.” God, she’d forgotten all about Skirky.
“Skirky?” That slow, I’m sexy as hell smile spread across
That’s me. The Michelangelo of cosmic catastrophes. I’m just workin’ on a different ceiling.
“Ye’re beautiful, and I willna let anyone take ye from me. Ye make me a man again.”
Fortune felt like covering her ears. She’d gotten what she deserved for listening at the door. She’d spent a few minutes exploring the small sleeping-room—wondering at lights you had to switch on, a sleeping pad with legs—then gone looking for Leith. When she’d heard his voice, she couldn’t resist eavesdropping.
How had it happened so fast? She’d been gone for less than ten minutes, and he was declaring his love for the overabundant Lily. She should’ve known. When he’d first seen Lily out in the yard, his eyes had glazed and turned predatory.
Fine. She’d put a positive spin on this. If cosmic forces had decided to repopulate the earth with males, then they’d obviously need a man with a tomcat mentality. They’d probably scoured the time continuum for the most overactive libido they could find.
She blinked back unexpected tears. What did she care? She didn’t even like him.
Of course the tears were for Blade. How would he take the news? After all, he couldn’t possibly compete with Leith. Leith was…a rotten piece of space sewage! How dare he seduce their host’s wife and put them in jeopardy!
Armed with righteous anger, Fortune flung the door open and charged into the room. She skidded to a stop when she found only Leith. He held one of Lily’s knives in his hand.
“OK, where is she? Lily, if you’re hiding, come out. Iknow everything.” Fortune swung her gaze to take in the faded floral couch, the ripped leather recliner, and the coffee table cluttered with what seemed like hundreds of knives. Hmm . Maybe she’d been a bit precipitous. Lily with a fresh supply of knives would be a formidable opponent.
“Are ye daft? Lily and Blade are outside.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Then who were you talking to?”
Humor flared in his eyes. “Ye listened at the door.”
She glanced at the floor, noting a burned spot in the carpet. “I didn’t.” She inspected the ceiling, wondering about the hole right above the couch. “I absolutely wouldn’t.” She stared at the wall, pondering the slash mark right in the middle of the photo of a younger Blade. Either a bad practice session for Lily, or a momentary problem in paradise. “I was walking down the hall, and I staggered into the door. Weak from hunger, I think. Anyway, I couldn’t help hearing.”
“Ye dinna lie well, lass.”
He smiled, and she fought to maintain her affronted, who, me ? expression. “If you weren’t talking to Lily, then you must’ve been talking to”—she peered at his hand—“the knife?”
He glanced away, but couldn’t hide his embarrassed flush.
“Ye dinna understand the relationship between a man and his weapon.” He lovingly caressed the smooth wooden handle.
She imagined his fingers sliding across the swell of her breasts. She shivered at the vivid image.
“A sharp blade protects a man from enemies.” He touched the gleaming point with his fingertip.
She imagined his fingertip touching her nipples, her nipples puckering to exclamation points of yearning.
“A wise man keeps his knife close.”
He glanced down at his jeans, and she understood his sudden look of frustration. Not even a blade would fit between skin and fabric. Good thing. She was jealous, and jealousy of an inanimate object did not indicate great mental health.
“Yes, but you talked to the thing.”
“Have ye ne’er talked to something that couldna talk back?”
“Never. I mean, I said a few words to the cat, but it couldn’t be termed a conversation.”
“Never?”
He stared at her, and she resisted the urge to squirm.
“OK. When I was a kid, Mom wasn’t around much, so I used to talk to Skirky.” God, she’d forgotten all about Skirky.
“Skirky?” That slow, I’m sexy as hell smile spread across
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