Rejar

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

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

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

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

  “You might get your wish, Lorgin.”

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

  Yaniff inclined his head. “It is so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Yes.” Yaniff spoke no further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Yaniff, whose eyes were darker than the darkest night, peered intensely at Lorgin. He finally spoke. “You will go to your brother.”

  Lorgin paused.

  Often it was what Yaniff did not say…

  He hesitated a fraction of a moment more before turning to his wife, swiftly taking her in his arms. “I will return to you shortly, zira.” His mouth took hers in a fierce kiss.

  With a swirl of his cape he was gone.

  London

  “He’s the most insufferable, overbearing, arrogant cad I have ever had the misfortune to meet!”

  Lilac threw h
er arms up in the air for emphasis as she paced the length of her bedroom. Directly in front of her was the cat, who was resting on all fours by the edge of the carpet.

  Said cat’s eyes were narrowing more and more with each pass she made; with every epithet hurled from her oh-so-succulent lips. In fact, one could say that the feline’s eyes were almost completely shut—except for the odd flash of anger glinting through the slits every now and then.

  “What a sapskull he is! Imagine…telling me,”—Lilac lowered her voice several octaves in an attempt to mimic Rejar’s low, dulcet tones—“‘Your societal customs are quite tedious, souk-souk. I will come to you this evening.’” She brandished a clenched fist in the chair. “Ha! I’d like to see him try!”

  Ears flattened to the back of his head, the cat slapped his tail onto the carpet. Repeatedly. Thump…thump…thump.

  “Now, miss, he couldn’t have been that bad. There’s rumor that says he cuts quite a dashing figure.” The ever-stalwart Emmy, as usual, tried to take the edge off Lilac’s temper.

  Lilac stopped pacing long enough to spin around. “Him? Dashing?” She paused as if she were considering it.

  Rejar rotated his ears forward, anxious to hear how she would respond. Not that he had any intentions of forgiving her! He had no idea what a “sapskull” was, but he did not like the sound of it. It was not…seemly. Besides, no one had ever dared to call him one before! Whatever it was.

  “He’s too cocksure by half!”

  The cat’s eyes widened. Does that mean what I think it means? Well, perhaps he could forgive her after all…

  “I tell you, Emmy, he’s a nick ninny!”

  Nick ninny?

  “Well, I don’t know, miss, I never heard none call the Prince a stupid fellow.” Thump!

  “In fact,” Emmy continued, “just the opposite. Why, Beau Brummell says he’s exceedingly quick witted and—”

  “Stuff and nonsense! The only thing that fellow is quick about is—”

  “Miss Devere!” Emmy gasped.

  Chastened, Lilac toned down a bit. “Very well. Just don’t mention that irritating sapskull to me again!”

  Sapskull! She dares once more! Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “I didn’t mention him the first time, miss,” Emmy shrewdly pointed out while eyeing the young woman. “Seems ya brought ’im up on yer own now, didn’t ya?” The maid teased her.

  Lilac blushed. “Well…if I did, it—it was so you—you wouldn’t mention him to me in the future.”

  “Yes, miss.” Emmy smiled conspiratorially at the cat.

  Unfortunately, Rejar was too caught up in his own ruminations to catch the maid’s private joke. What exactly had he done wrong? To his way of thinking, he had not been rude to her in the least. On the contrary, he had approached her in a forthright manner, immediately letting his intentions be known. What did she have to be angry about? Familiars were always direct in their dealings with women.

  Well…perhaps not always, but mostly.

  “Good. I’m glad we’ve got that settled.”

  “Goodnight, miss.” Emmy picked up one of the candleholders to light her way as she left the room.

  “If I never see that irritating Prince again, it will be too soon for me,” Lilac muttered as she passed by the cat on her way to bed. “Just who does he think he is?”

  I will show you who I am.

  Insulted, Rejar tossed his head back in a regal feline gesture. Familiars were inordinately proud creatures.

  Believe me, you will know, souk-souk.

  “You!”

  “Yes, it is I. Your sapskull.”

  Rejar lay directly on top of Lilac, holding her hands down to the mattress with his own. He had removed the blanket that had covered her just prior to wakening her.

  Unlike the stab to his pride that he had not been able to remove.

  “Let go of me! And take yourself from my dream at once! Of all people to dream about—you!” It was the dreaded Russian here in her dreams. Egads! “Out! Out, damn spot!” Lilac thrashed beneath him.

  Her erratic motions caused her nightrail to slide up her legs. That was when she realized her dream Prince was naked. Muscular legs slid heavily against her own; their tougher texture an abrasive heat.

  She immediately stopped moving, gasping into his face—a wildly beautiful face, which was very close to her own.

  “You—you don’t have any clothes on, your Highness!” She squeaked rather lamely up at him.

  The left corner of Rejar’s mouth curved. “Now Lilac, what do you expect from a—what did you call me—a nick ninny?” He smiled down at her. It was not an amused smile. In fact, it was rather…feral.

  Lilac’s eyes rounded. One did not ignore such a smile as the Prince had on his face right then. Especially not if one prided oneself on being a woman of logic. She swallowed convulsively. “I—I wish to wake up.”

  “I do not think so, souk-souk.” He slowly lowered his head.

  Ever so gently, the most sensuous of male lips captured her little earlobe. Whereupon he nipped it sharply with his teeth.

  “Ow! Stop that!” Lilac tried to grab a hank of his long hair, but failed miserably when she realized he would not release her wrists from his powerful grip.

  “What do you think—” Lilac sucked in her breath because those same white teeth, which only moments ago had nipped, now nibbled in a light grazing pattern along the rim of her ear.

  His agile tongue swirl-teased the entrance to her canal, causing a quivery sensation to run right through her.

  “Oh my! I—”

  Velvet lips sipped the edge of her jawline, stopping a moment to secretly experience the militant indentation in her chin, before trailing down the front of her throat. She felt herself swallow beneath the debilitating ministrations of this most bewitching of mouths.

  “I don’t—” She began, only to stop when Prince Azov reached her collarbone. There, he lightly suckled.

  Lilac had no way of knowing the expertise that Rejar displayed; the Familiar knew just how strong to draw upon her without leaving a mark on the tender skin.

  Despite herself, she shivered.

  Rejar acknowledged her reaction with a mischievous, catlike sweep of his tongue. Lilac shivered again.

  “I don’t like you, Prince Nickolai.”

  “But I like you, my Lilac.” His low, soft voice vibrated seductively against the hollow at the base of her throat before his mouth covered the vulnerable spot possessively. She tasted like hot sweet honey.

  An unintelligible sound came out of her mouth that sounded like “Nnnnn…”

  Rejar knew exactly what it meant.

  He released one of her hands so that he might untie the ribbon bow at the neckline of her garment.

  Lilac was so overwhelmed by his sultry actions, she wasn’t even aware he had let her go. The strong fingers of his other hand—the one that still captured hers—threaded through her own. Deftly, he untied one bow.

  Then the next.

  And then the one after that.

  In a dreamlike trance for more than one reason, Lilac met his hot-blooded stare reproachfully. “You shouldn’t, your Highness.”

  “I know.”

  Their mutinous gazes locked for an endless time. Finally he broke the stillness with a response that was very Familiar.

  “But…I am going to.”

  Without taking his eyes from hers, he separated the front of her gown, the edge of his hand lightly brushing across the satiny skin. Slowly his vision left hers to rake over her face, her throat.

  Her bare chest.

  There, he observed her silently for several minutes, his knowing look frank and very male.

  Lilac felt herself redden even in the dream.

  Then he lifted his eyes to hers. When he spoke, his low voice was a husky rasp of sound. “You are so beautiful, souk-souk.”

  Moonlight danced off him, haloing him in silver. Lilac could see his dual-colored eyes quite clearly in the dream. The pupils
were softly dilated, the lids heavy. An intense sexuality emanated from him.

  Like a cloak, it covered her.

  Spellbound, Lilac lifted her mouth for the kiss of this Prince from another land.

  In a time-stopped moment the Nickolai of her dreams lowered his head to hers…

  The touch of his mouth never came.

  Oddly, at the moment his lips would join hers, he hesitated, exhaling as if in frustration. Lilac watched him, confused. Didn’t her dream Prince want to kiss her?

  Rejar was indeed frustrated. On all levels. How could he kiss her without entering that sweet mouth? Impossible. His lifeforce could not enter her in any way without breaking the trance.

  He reflected for a moment…There were ways to ignite her without danger of an untimely discovery; he need only be more creative. He smiled wryly at the challenge. In this area especially, he was the son of Krue. All challenges must be met. So his father had trained him.

  Resolute, he pressed his lips to the center of her chest at the demarcation of her cleavage, letting his tongue slide between the heated, snug crevice there. A long slow lick.

  A sound of pleasure issued from her parted lips.

  “Something about this seems familiar…” Lilac’s words were nothing but a breathless whisper in the air.

  Rejar chuckled low in his throat at her unintentional pun. “Everything about this is Familiar, Lilac.”

  “I think I’ve dreamt this before,” she murmured distractedly. “Only there was a different man, a nicer—”

  Rejar stopped, not at all liking her words. Or the direction of her thoughts. He wanted her focused—on him. “No. It was the same man. I mean I am the same man.”

  Lilac blinked, throwing off the seductive veil he had wrapped her in. “No, it wasn’t and you’re not,” she stubbornly insisted. “The other man was somehow different; he wasn’t you, your Sapskullness!”

  Rejar’s brow lowered. A new thing to madden him! Was nothing simple in this strange world? “I tell you, it was I!”

  “Ridiculous! How could it be? I didn’t even know you then; so there’s no way I could have dreamt of you!” She summarily dismissed him. “Please leave. You may tell the other man he may visit if he wishes.”

  Lilac looked shyly up at him. “I confess, he had the most intriguing abilities with his tongue.”