The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance Read online

  Bern liked the weight of the woman in his arms; the touch of the bare skin of her arms and the feel of the rest of her beneath her dress made him ache, made him remember how long it had been since he’d had a woman. It also made him thankful that women didn’t wear underwear in the Dark Ages. And this woman was a perfect fit against him. He liked the softness of her curly red hair tickling his neck and cheek. He wanted to bury his face in her thick hair, then follow the line of her throat all the way down to snuggle between the soft mounds of her breasts. He wanted—

  Bern gave his head a stern shake. As stimulating as holding her was he didn’t know why he’d rushed into the courtyard and automatically scooped her up off the ground when she fell. They weren’t in the age of chivalry yet, and calling attention to himself and his men was stupid. Keeping a low profile was a matter of policy and survival among TTP teams. He had no idea who this woman was or what she meant to all the men staring at him. Though she did look familiar.

  When she woke and spoke, he couldn’t help but laugh; it was a triumphant sound, knowing that she was as aware of him as he was of her.

  Then Bern realized that the words he’d heard hadn’t been filtered through his translator implant: she’d spoken in English instead of the local lilting Celtic dialect. Now he knew who she was!

  Her name was Virginia White, and though he’d never met her in the flesh he’d studied her holo image along with those of all the others on the missing team. Since he already held her, he was tempted to call for his men to cover his withdrawal and run back out the gate in order to ensure her safety now that he’d found her.

  Since that wasn’t the smart way to play it, he put her down, letting her body slide slowly down his until her feet touched the ground. She was tall and willowy, her height another clue that she wasn’t from this time.

  “You—” he began. But a hand landed on his shoulder and Bern whirled around, hand on sword. “What?” he demanded of the potbellied greybeard before him. The stranger wore a threadbare silk tunic. As silk was a luxury rare in these parts since the Roman withdrawal, Bern guessed this was the local chieftain. “My lord,” he added, with a polite nod.

  The chieftain’s frown turned into an effusive smile. “You’re quick, I see. Good. Good.” He glanced towards the hand Bern still rested on the pommel of his sword. “Welcome to Ched,” he went on. “Come to worship at the well, have you? Come for the festival?”

  Bern nodded. He was aware that Virginia White had moved back into the shadow of an arched doorway. He wanted nothing more than to follow her, but he had to stay in character and deal with the master of the estate first.

  Bern brought out a small leather pouch, heavyold and handed it over. “Please accept this small gift, in honour of the goddess and your hospitality.”

  The chieftain beamed, and glanced at Bern’s people – an obvious unit of soldiers that waited by the gate, alert for Bern’s orders. “Those are fine-looking lads you lead.”

  “We come in peace for the festival,” Bern hastened to reassure the chieftain. He saw the speculative look in Ched’s eyes and smiled. “But afterwards, our swords are for hire if you are interested.”

  He hoped that made him sound like a friendly and useful fellow to the chieftain, just in case his unit needed an excuse to stay on after the festival if he couldn’t find out what Virginia White was up to before then.

  Lord Ched’s grin widened. He put his arm around Bern. “Join me for some wine. What’s your name, lad?” he asked as he led Bern into the main hall.

  Ginger considered going back to her duties at the spring, but curiosity got the better of her. That, and an irresistible craving not to let the man who named himself Bern out of her sight, made her follow the men into the hall. For some reason being close to Bern made her feel as if she were not alone any more, and she needed the nearness after all these months. She knew very well that any attraction to this man was foolish, and not even because intimacy with an indigenous resident was against Project rules. If Lord Ched had his way this dangerous stranger would soon be sharing the bed of his daughter Morga. Jealousy ripped through Ginger at the thought of Morga eagerly spreading her legs for Bern’s cock, but she knew it would be for the best politically. They needed a warrior hero and Bern looked to have all the qualifications for the job.

  And, Lordy, she liked how he looked, all tall, dark and handsome, with broad shoulders and big hands and the brightest, most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. There was an aura of steely danger around him that should have scared her to death, but sent fireworks shooting through her instead. He wore a knee-length tunic that left his legs bare, bits of leather body armour and a light woollen cape. Her fingers itched to pull off all those layers and thoroughly explore what she found underneath.

  Ched sent for Morga, then settled down to explain his plan to Bern over cups of strong wine. Business was usually conducted once the menfolk were well on the way to being drunk.

  Ginger stayed in the background to listen and watch, taking a seat among a group of women working on spinning and embroidery. The men were barely into their second libation to the goddess and not yet into proper drinking when Morga came flouncing in. At least she’s dressed, Ginger thought, for the priestess of the Mother frequently went around bare-breasted, and sometimes completely nude. Morga was beautiful, knew it and had no qualms about showing it, even if she wasn’t lying on her back on the holy altar.

  I live like a nun, Ginger thought, and she gets to whoop it up anywhere, any time.

  Until a few minutes ago this hadn’t bothered Ginger a bit, except for the missing sex part. Now she very nearly snarled as Morga caught sight of Bern and made a beeline to sit beside him.

  “Daughter,” Lord Ched announced once the girl was snuggled up against Bern’s side, “meet your new husband.”

  Morga bounded to her feet. So did Bern.

  “What?” Morga screamed.

  “What?” Bern echoed.

  His voice was quite calm, but anger crackled off him. For some reason this dichotomy sent hot shivers through Ginger. And several of the older women gave each other knowing looks as well.

  Morga gave Bern another once-over, and her liundrled in disdain. “I don’t mind a bit of flirting, but I like the husband I’ve got,” she told her father.

  Lord Ched banged a fist on the table. “You’ll take the man I choose.”

  “The goddess chose for me already.”

  “Your year king has already reigned too long. When this warrior challenges, the younger man will lose. Be prepared for it – be prepared to do your duty by your father, your goddess and your people.” He gestured towards Bern. “Now, be a proper priestess and take this fine bear of a man off to the bath.”

  “You sound like a Roman,” the girl complained. “But this land is Celt again. And I’ll do no such thing as bathe a stranger.” She looked around haughtily, and pointed to Ginger. “There’s a priestess who obeys you. Let her service this great bear of yours.”

  And, with that pronouncement, she flounced back out again – leaving everyone staring at Ginger.

  Bern’s initial impulse was to protest all this nonsense about marriage, and bathing with buxom young women, but he let it go when the girl suggested Virginia White as her replacement. It would be a good way to get White alone.

  “Good idea!” he exclaimed, and stepped forwards to drag the missing TTP team member out of the crowd, his hand tight around her slender wrist. She looked at him with eyes wide with fright, and he had to fight off laughter as he caught an impression of her thinking about having a barbarian in her bathtub. He also noticed that she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea as warmth spread between them from where they touched.

  Hmmm … maybe they could turn this ridiculous situation into a bit of mutual fun. He was sure he’d communicated his moment of thoughtless lust from the contact of skin against skin because he noticed how her nipples hardened beneath the fabric of her dress.

  “What are you waiting for, pr
iestess?” the chieftain demanded. “Show the man the hospitality he deserves!”

  “Come along,” Bern said, and dragged White along with him out of the hall.

  Once out in the courtyard she got her voice back. “You’re in for a treat, warrior, for the Roman hypocaust is still working and the pool is deep, and hot. The baths draw as many visitors as the sacred spring, increasing the lord’s prestige and—”

  “I’m not interested in a hot bath.”

  She sniffed and wrinkled her pretty nose. “You should be.”

  He laughed. “I guess I am a bit ripe from a few days on the road. My tunic could probably use burning, besides.”

  “Where I come from that would be breaking a law against polluting the air.”

  For a moment he’d let attraction get in the way of professionalism. This reminder that she was no local priestess brought Bern back to his duty. “Lead on to this bathhouse,” he growled.

  Even with business uppermost in his mind, he couldn’t help but appreciate the fine, pert shape of her ass, or the feminine sway of her hips as she walked ahead of him. He feared his body was going to overwhelm his brain at any moment.

  Ginger was aware of the rough soldier’s gaze. His intense energy devoured her and left her smouldering. She’d never been so instantly and dangerously attracted to a man before. All the recommendations about indigenous relations were overruled by the demands of her body. She didn’t think she’d be able to keep her hands off this guy. In fact, to keep up her cover as a priestess she didn’t have any choice but to scrape his naked body down with scented oil and rinse him off, now did she?

  She grinned with anticipation as they entered the bath. But her grin was wiped away and replaced with a surge of fear an instant after they stepped into the roomeat, warr>

  He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face him. At the same time he growled, “Out!” to the pair of waiting bath attendants. She heard the slap of their bare feet on the mosaic as they hurried out.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded the moment they were alone.

  “Only what my lord order—” Then she realized. “You’re speaking English!”

  On a burst of sheer relief she grabbed him and kissed him. It took only an instant for relief to flash into pure lust.

  What was a man to do when a woman flung herself against him and soft lips pressed against his own? Bern didn’t care what anyone else might do when her hips ground enticingly against his. His cock took over the thinking for him and he grabbed her ass and pulled her closer. Her mouth was delicious, and his tongue delved possessively into the sweet warmth. Her breasts pushed against his chest and he brought a hand up to cup the soft roundness and stroked a thumb across the hard nipple he could feel beneath her dress. He’d never wanted anyone so much or so quickly. He picked her up and tossed her into the water, then took only a moment to unfasten his sword belt and toss off his leather armour before jumping in after her.

  Though she was fully clothed the wet dress clung to her body and outlined her breasts and hips in a way Bern found utterly sexy. She shook her head, flinging water out of her thick red curls.

  “People generally get undressed before bathing,” she said.

  “And before sex, too.”

  She laughed, and reached below the water to grab on to her soaked skirt. “Wet wool,” she muttered. “Now I smell like a sheep.” She gave him a leering once-over. “Does that make you a ram?”

  She was holding the dress up around her thighs; he caught a glimpse of pale skin through the steaming water. “Don’t stop now,” he urged her. He wanted her naked.

  She inched up the skirt some more and he caught a glimpse of springy, carrot-red curls at the juncture of milky pale thighs.

  “Oh Lord,” he groaned as his cock stiffened further. He splashed through the waist-deep pool and grabbed her around the waist. “Don’t tease me, woman.”

  She threw back her head and laughed, and he took the opportunity to kiss the base of her throat then run his tongue across the tops of her breasts.

  “Help me,” she said. “This thing weighs a ton.”

  It took him a moment to realize that she was talking about her wet dress, but once he caught on he grabbed a double handful of soaking wool and yanked, while she pulled and squirmed, and soon he had her as naked as he wanted her. The water gave her skin a translucent shine.

  “You look like milk in moonlight,” he said. Then he remembered her name. White. “You look like your name, Dr Virginia White.”

  “Ginger,” she answered instantly. “No one calls me Virgin – of course around here no one calls me Ginger, either.”

  He ran his hands up and down her flanks, pausing to cup the weight of her breasts before continuing to stroke her waist and hips and the outside of her thighs. “What do they call you if not Virgin?”

  She drew back, lifting her head haughtily, or as haughtily as a panting, horny woman could. “Priestess,” she answered. “Or the Lady of the White Bird Spring when they’re being formal.”

  He needed to know how she’d gotten separated from her team, how she’d gotten here, and why she was part of the indigenous power structure. But he needed something else even more right now.

  He pressed his hips against her, his cock straining against her belly. “Touch me,” he demanded. He circled her nipples with his thumbs.

  She found the m of his tunic and pulled it above his hips. Once his cock was free her fingers closed around the base and stroked him slowly from his balls to the throbbing tip. Ginger loved the heat of his penis, the weight and thickness of it, the velvet over steel feel of it in her hand. She wanted it buried deep inside her body. Needed it.

  She backed up a few steps to the edge of pool, bringing him with her as she continued to caress his penis and balls.

  When they reached the side he cupped her ass and lifted her on to the mosaic edge. She tilted backwards on her arms and spread her legs. He kissed her belly and laved her navel with his tongue. Then his head moved down between her legs, where he found her clit and licked and nibbled the swollen nub. She came almost instantly, her hips bucking and her thighs clamping tight around his head as his mouth continued to explore her pussy with amazing skill and dexterity.

  “Damn!” she shouted, and slapped her hands against the wet tiles. “More,” she begged.

  He lifted his head and gazed at her up the length of her body. “More?” His voice was low, and full of teasing promise.

  Ginger arched her back, raising her body imploringly. “More.”

  She scooted backwards and he lifted himself out of the water. The length of his swollen cock swayed out in front of him. When he knelt over her she grasped it and guided him to the hungry wet entrance of her pussy. He filled her in one hard thrust.

  The walls of her vagina closed tightly around him and Bern revelled in the pleasure of being within the grasp of her sweet heat. The salty, tangy taste of her sex lingered on his tongue and he bent his head to kiss her and share it with her. She moaned against his mouth, her tongue eagerly exploring his mouth. Her hands moved over his back and ass. She played with his balls, and teased the opening of his anus with one clever finger. His hips flexed involuntarily. Her inner muscles rippled around his erection and from that point on he was lost in pounding, pulsing sensation.

  He lay on top of her for a long time afterwards, unwilling to move away from the feel of her soft breasts and the scent of her skin. He didn’t know why, but the sound of her heartbeat against his ear made him feel like he was home.

  Then she giggled and the sound brought Bern back into the here and now. He lifted his head to look at her. “What?”

  “Lord Ched sent me in here with you to make Morga jealous. She’d really be jealous if she knew what we’ve been doing.”

  “What’s with the chieftain wanting me to marry his daughter?” Bern asked.

  “I suppose that’s my fault,” she answered. “He’s looking for a warrior to replace the year ki
ng, and I saw you in the well. So—”

  “I think we’ve both been in the past too long,” he said. “Because what you just said seems to make sense to you, and it almost makes sense to me.”

  Tears suddenly welled in her big blue eyes. She reached out and stroked his temples and brushed hair off his forehead. “You’re really from my time.” The relief in her voice bordered on worship.

  He wiped away her tears, then kissed her cheeks, leaving the taste of salt on his tongue.

  “You’re not from my team,” she said. “I would have remembered you. How do you know my name? What are you doing here?”

  He should have explained to her already. He should have gotten a debriefing from her. Duty should have come before sex. He’d never been hit so hard and fast and recklessly by lust before.

  “I wanted you the moment I saw you in the vision, maybe I communicated my lust through a psychic link to you,” she explained.

  “I wanted you the instant I saw you as well, and stop reading my mind,” he added.

  “I get more impressions than actual thoughts from people. My gift is for scrying with water energy.”

  “Right,” he answered. He knew that about her.

  Frankly he wasn’t all that comfortable with a scientific/military project needing to use psychics even if he was a low-level one. But the nature of time travel had turned out to need people whose minds worked on a different frequency than the majority of people’s. No matter how much data time travellers collected on jaunts into the past, it was only the travellers with psychic gifts that were able to remember the actual experiences of the journey. So, Project teams took back all sorts of recording equipment, and that included the inclusion of a psychic to serve as a living, subjective memory of the events that were encountered.

  Psychics also came along to study the energy nexuses, the doors as it were, where travellers could enter and leave different times. The scientists in charge of the TTP didn’t approve of this use of psychic talent, it just wasn’t scientific enough for them, but the people in charge of funding the project insisted on using every available research tool. Besides, as far as anyone could explain the process of time travel, it still seemed a hell of a lot more like magic than it did science.