Page 15 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

“I did not believe it.” He lowers his long fingers to the sides of my neck. “When she told me it would be so. I did not believe.”

“And that’s why you stayed in there so long?”

“Too long.” He presses his fingertips into my nape. Holy crap, does it feel good. His touch is so warm and strong and earnest. “I should have believed…so much sooner…”

“But you do now.” I forced some casual cheer into it. “And I’d really love to get this show on the road. So shall we? Or should I say…shall you?”

I step back, but he catches me by the wrist, yanking me close again. “The road? Where are you going? And in the middle of the night? The moon is still high.”

“Oh, my God. You’re cute.” I stop my giggle when he doesn’t break character, even given that permission. “All right, Marquis de Hunkville, we’ll do this your way.” I glance back into the wardrobe, despite the tick that goes off in his jaw as I do. “Did you bring music to get your groove on?”

“Pardon moi?”

“Where are your hot licks, hot stuff?” I reward myself for the wit by looking him over again. His historical culottes don’t leave a lot of his lower physique to my imagination; an accurate-looking eighteenth-century fly conceals a breathtaking crotch and tree-trunk thighs. Handcrafted riding boots are filled by his massive calves. Holy hell, he’s well-built. “Maybe you just play the music from your phone?” I venture. “Or maybe you don’t dance at all. There’s…a lot of you, after all.”

“My…what? Foam?” He huffs. “What does a steed’s spittle have to do with playing music? Though I can certainly play a few tunes if you would like some entertainment, my love.” He steps back and extends an elbow. “Will you allow me to escort you to the conservatory?”

“I’d prefer to stay here.” I mean, there’s historically accurate, and then there’s calling a client my love. Hell to the no. “If you need, I’ve got some curated lists saved to my laptop. Probably better than trying your mobile anyhow. The connectivity in this place is sketchy at best.”

“You…are saving what atop your lap?”

“Never mind.” I laugh again, trying to play off how nice it feels to have him gawking at my midsection. More than that, observing the fresh transition of his gaze. Sunrise to sunset in five seconds flat. “So no music. Good enough. Maybe…you’ll just let me help, then.”

“Help? With wh—” He erupts in a shocked snarl as I slide a finger along his waistband—and then lower. “My God. My love, what are you about?”

“Same thing you’re about, Hunkville.” I twist a couple of his buttons free. His hard flesh swells against my touch. “But knock it off with my love, okay? My name is Allie. There’s two Ls right there to play with, if you want. And if foofy and formal’s more your thing, Alessandra works too. So why don’t you ponder a bunch of ways to say either of those while we get you naked, yeah?”

Chapter Two

Max

By every saint I know.

She is…

Magnificent.

She is…

Astounding.

She is…

Everything I have ever pleaded God to give me in a woman and never thought I would ever find. And it has taken me but three minutes to learn that. To feel that. To celebrate how she has called me out of my dark purgatory and into her beautiful light. To confirm that certainty across my soul and my mind, despite every astounding thing she does to my body.

My God, what she does to my body.

“Ventrebleu.” I groan as she opens my breeches with astounding swiftness. The woman’s knowledge of masculine tailoring is thorough—and vexing. And what about her bold speech? Has destiny melted me alive only to fuse me with a gorgeous little bawd?

And what of it?

My family is gone. The honor of my name is gone. My world, as I know it, is gone. If the Almighty has seen fit to make me love a harlot for the rest of my days, then so be it.

There is but one hitch to the plan.

The woman has forbidden me from even using the word love.

Mayhap…because she wants to use it first? Does she already know about Kavia’s proviso? If so, she is already aware of what she must proclaim to the world soon enough and wishes for this interlude to be ours alone. She desires to explore our devotion in the most perfect ways possible.