Page 29 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

Huh?

He reaches down, fumbling to cover himself. I struggle to understand despite my haze of sexual need. “No…what?”

He slides down the wall, parks his ass in front of me, and hauls me into his lap. “Come here.”

“Ermmm…I thought that was the goal?”

“An endeavor that would make me the most fortunate man on earth.” His breath is warm in my hair as he presses my ear over his galloping heartbeat. “But we must talk about some things. With our clothes on.”

“Oh, my God.” As good as his chest feels as a pillow, I push away. When I can maneuver a direct faceoff, I continue, “Max. Seriously. This isn’t necessary. Not right now.”

“This is very necessary, mademoiselle. And I will have your ear about it at once so that we dally no more time away wandering the paths of passion.”

“Dally?” I hate how pathetic I sound, trying to speak past a suddenly tight throat. “Well, sorry about all the damn dallying I subjected you to, buddy. And you don’t have to worry about wasting any more time with my ‘paths,’ either. You were sweet to come find me and all, but let’s really not do this part, okay?”

This part. Yeah, I know it well. Some kids get chores lists and college advice. The lesson I received was the one about it being okay to believe in true love—for the two seconds the shit lasts. Like the sweep of a gown in a fashion week finale, love is the best high in the world—until it’s last season’s news. That makes this part a pointless exercise. Not worth the ten minutes of trouble. Whether it’s said with sweetness or bitterness or anger or affection, goodbye brings the same result.

You’re on your own, Allie. So get strong and deal.

But I’m only allowed two seconds in that mental mire before Max embraces my shoulders. “I’ll have you for this part, woman,” he growls, burning me deeper with his rich golden gaze. “And all the other parts.”

I pull in a long breath. “And what the hell does that mean?”

He’s ready—more than ready—to reply. But before the man can wrap his firm lips around a single syllable, the door to the foyer creaks back open. Raegan pops her cute face into the aperture. Her bottom lip is tucked beneath her teeth. “Are you two still…busy?”

“Christ on a cracker, Rae. It’s been ten minutes. Of course they’re still busy.”

Drue ducks in but falters when eyeing Max’s dishevelment. For a second, I indulge a silent preen of feminine pride. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be on the arm of the hottest guy in the room. Never mind that right now, Max is the only man in the room. Even at a Hollywood premiere, he’d still be the one turning the most heads.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” she mutters.

“Speak for yourself.” Raegan steps around, tossing her dazzling strawberry mane. “We have a lot of castle hopping to do today, and daylight’s burning. If you two horndogs want to do the medieval mambo in every turret we tour, fine by me, but our wheels are here.” She gives Max a onceover. “No time to change, big guy. The Heathcliff cosplay will have to do.”

“Wait. Whoa.” I lurch to my feet, readjusting my lacy plum V-neck top. “Who said anything about inviting him?”

Drue side-eyes me. “So you don’t want to invite him?”

Huge huff. We haven’t been at the château a full twenty-four hours, and plot twists are coming faster than underwear changes. Except now, the plot is my life and the twists are scary.

With the biggest twist of all right here in front of me.

Maximillian.

He complicates everything.

He’s gorgeous. He’s alluring. He’s addicting. He’s terrifying. He’s a completely crazy enigma.

And I have no idea how to make all those impressions play nicely with each other.

“I’m sure he has other plans for the day, okay? He was—I mean we were—just saying goodbye.”

“He is right here.” He rolls to his feet as smoothly as an action star preparing to fight. “He also has no other plans for the day and would be honored to escort très belles mademoiselles through our fair valley for the day.”

Raegan bobs on the balls of her feet. “Hip, hip—as in hurray!”

The edge of Drue’s mouth kicks up. Damn it, the man has charmed even her. “You hear that, Allie Sophie? We’re beautiful mademoiselles.”

“Damn straight we are.” Raegan hooks elbows with Drue and me. “It’s settled, then. Our carriage awaits. Let’s be off.” She guides us into flouncing steps out the door—