differences…for the sake of the project?”
For the sake of the world, she meant, and the future of all mankind. Téa squeezed her eyes shut. Once they had all of the pieces, they’d be able to summon the Pleiadian Council and their starships to protect them from the Centaurians. Without the entire medallion, Earth was fated to devolve to a state of barbarism. What were her petty concerns in the face of that?
“Okay,” Téa said reluctantly, and opened her eyes. “I’ll do it.” She was a professional, after all. She should be able to handle a single soldier.
“Excellent.” Three short raps came at the door and the general looked apologetic. “That should be him now.” Standing up from behind her desk, she said, “Come in.”
Téa suddenly felt as if a stone had lodged in her gut. No. I’m not ready!
Rick Walters opened the door and, when he spotted Téa, he went as rigid as a statue.
When would the sight of him stop hitting her so hard? Big and blond with a rough-hewn face that was surprisingly beautiful, he’d always reminded her of the Norman knights he studied. In uniform, he looked dangerous. But in the jeans he wore now with a navy T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, he oozed masculinity.
After what she’d learned, he ought to inspire disgust, but even after months of separation, her traitorous body remembered his touch all too well. Her nervous system flooded with a barrage of sensory memories—of skin sliding against skin, their naked bodies entwined in passion, the world-bending heat of desire.
Her body responded viscerally…tightening, warming, moistening.
No, this couldn’t happen. Téa tensed to keep her reaction from betraying her. Much like Pavlov’s dogs, she was simply responding physically to a familiar stimulus, she rationalized. But she was an adult, much more evolved than the dogs in the experiment. She could change her response to that stimulus.
She had to. She’d thought this man who espoused honor would be the one man she could trust, the man who was everything he seemed to be. She’d been wrong.
Rick Walters stood stock-still. Téa Callas. He had no idea she was the operative he was supposed to safeguard on the trip to the past. After she’d damned near ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it, he’d vowed to never let her get close to him again. But the impact of her cloud of wavy dark hair, creamy olive complexion and stunning dark cat eyes was like a punch to the gut. Not to mention the way her curves filled out that red sweater….
He still didn’t understand why she’d dropped him like a hot IED, but he shored up his defenses so the shrink couldn’t find any chinks in his carefully constructed armor. He pulled his gaze away from her and nodded at the older woman. “General Ashton.”
She regarded him gravely. “Are you two going to be all right? This mission is critical. If there’s any chance of you two screwing it up because of misplaced emotions, I want to know it now.”
Rick had never failed in a mission and he wasn’t about to start now. Standing at parade rest, he clenched his jaw and responded, “No problem, ma’am. Emotions have no place on a mission. I can handle it, though I can’t speak for Dr…. Captain Callas.”
Téa’s eyes flashed and she surged to her feet. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifted her chin. “I can handle anything he can.”
Rick hid a satisfied smile. He’d always been able to punch her buttons.
Then, apparently realizing she was displaying the very emotions she’d claimed to be able to control, Téa said through gritted teeth, “I’m sure I’ll be able to count on Captain Walters’s physical help.”
What was she trying to imply? Was she harping on Grant and Jameson again? Those two had been beyond help. Refusing to rise to her bait, he nodded at the retired general. “If she does her job, I’ll do mine. Ready when you are, ma’am.”
The former commander looked doubtful, but must have been reassured by his stoic expression. “Good. Professor Carswell is waiting for you in the lab.” She gestured them toward the door. As she walked them down the hall, she glanced at Rick. “You understand how this works?”
“Yes, ma’am. Professor Carswell will use the headpiece from the alien craft at Roswell to send us back in time, and it will equip us with the language, clothing and weapons of the time.”
Not to be outdone, Téa added, “I should be able to sense the amulet. Once I find it and we have it in our hands, we use the emergency signal cuffs to bring us back home.”
“That’s right,” General Ashton said. She pulled two armbands out of her pocket, wide beaten-silver cuffs with what looked like a cloudy white stone in the middle. “These are the ESCs. Press the stone in the middle when you’re ready to come home and Professor Carswell will bring you back.”
In the lab, the petite Professor Athena Carswell ushered them into a glass room about the size of a telephone booth. At least, it seemed that way to Rick. Téa was so close, he could smell her heady perfume, feel her soft hair brush against his arm. He tensed. This had to be the worst part of the mission, to feel her so close without being able to touch.
The professor settled comfortably into a chair and placed the crownlike device on her head. She gave Rick and Téa a thumbs-up, then closed her eyes and did her psi thing. Suddenly, he and Téa were swept up in a maelstrom and whipped back to the past.
With the fog still clearing from his brain, Rick realized he was standing on hard-packed dirt on a city street in the Principality of Salerno in 1077. He was wearing the mail and helmet of a Norman knight, complete with sword and shield, with a small pile of baggage by his side. He grinned to himself. Instead of studying the Normans from the distance of a thousand years, he was actually going to be able to live their history up close and personal.
Maybe too personal. The stench of unclean streets and unsanitary sewers assaulted his nose. Maybe I should have asked for nose plugs. The sound of dull thuds reached his ears and he turned toward it, the noseguard on the helmet limiting his vision.
A man stood over the huddled form of a woman in a small courtyard. “Where are the sons you promised me?” he yelled, punching her in the face. “Paugh. You’re barren, useless.”
Still a little woozy from the trip, Rick wasn’t sure the universal translator was working right. But Téa obviously had no doubt. Wearing a voluminous brown kirtle that didn’t slow her down a bit, she flew to the woman’s defense. When the man lifted his arm to hit the woman again, Téa grabbed hold of it and held on. As the man turned in outrage, she said, “How do you know you aren’t the one with the problem?”
The man, with the dress and demeanor of a knight, scowled at her. “There is nothing wrong with my seed. Unhand me, woman.” He threw off her hold and Téa fell to the dirt. He raised a fist to strike her.
Big mistake. Rage surged through Rick and he leaped into action. Whipping out his sword, he pointed it at the man’s throat. “Use those fists on a woman again, and I’ll gladly unhand you.”
Only the worst kind of scum would hit a woman. He’d never used a sword to kill a man, but this just might be his first.
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