Free The Crossing (Immortals) by Joy Nash Page A

look.
    "Um... yes. A blue duffel. In the trunk."
    "I'll have it brought up immediately," Fergus said.
"To ...?„
    "To my suite," Mac said promptly.

    Artemis flushed, relief and anxiety doing a tap dance
duet in her belly.
    Fergus didn't blink. "Very well, sir."
    She jumped when Mac's large, warm hand settled at the
base of her spine.
    "Relax," he said. "I don't bite. Well," he amended, "not
unless asked."
    She snorted, and he chuckled. She didn't protest as he
propelled her up the stairs and into a dark-paneled entry
hall hung with large, depressing oil paintings of stiffnecked lords in red coats riding to the hounds. Overhead, the chandelier was made of antlers. She studied it
dubiously.
    Mac looked slightly embarrassed. "I've been busy the
last six months. On a world tour. Haven't had a chance to
redecorate."
    A long line of staff members were already assembled to
greet them. Mac addressed the balding butler at the front
of the queue.
    "Is my suite ready, Giles?"
    "Of course, sir. And may I add, it is fine to see you here
at Winterlea?"
    "That it is," declared the motherly looking lady at
Giles's side. "Do you and your lady require a meal?"
    "Definitely, Fiona."
    "Very good, sir. I'll fetch a menu of choices."
    "No need. Just send up one of everything you've got
handy."
    Fiona beamed. "Certainly, sir."
    Mac gave a rueful shake of his head as he steered Artemis
toward a wide, forest green-carpeted stairway. The pressure of his fingers on her spine sent a tingle racing to her
nerve endings. "I've tried to get them to stop calling me
`sir.' They just won't do it."
    Mac's suite was on the first floor, facing the front
lawn. In the sitting room, a delicate collection of antique furnishings fought a losing battle with an invasion of
twenty-first-century electronic paraphernalia. A huge
computer monitor dwarfed a spindle-legged desk, an array
of audio equipment had been crammed into a gilded
wardrobe, and a six-foot-wide flat-screen TV dwarfed a
marble-topped sideboard.

    In one corner, furniture had been removed entirely
to accommodate an eclectic collection of musical
instruments-electric and acoustic guitars, a three-tiered
electric keyboard, an ancient Celtic harp, a modern drum
set, a flute, bagpipes, and several unusual, medievallooking instruments. Old and new clashed in dizzying
furor, achieving an odd sort of truce. Balance? Perhaps,
but it was a violent one. Like a wild seesaw. Like her emotions whenever she looked into Mac's eyes.
    Especially now that she'd decided to-here she swallowed hard-seduce him.
    She halted on the tiled entry floor and bent to take off
her boots, loath to track mud on the silk Persian carpet.
She untied the laces slowly, gathering her courage as the
strands unraveled. She felt grubby and exhausted, and
not the least bit alluring. Mac, damn him, looked as fresh
and sexy as if he'd just woken from a ten-hour nap. He
shucked off his leather jacket and tossed it on a wingback
chair.
    Padding into the center of the carpet, she turned a slow
circle. There were at least three rooms adjoining the main
one-a bathroom, one small cubicle that looked like an
office, and a third, much larger bedroom, dominated by a
massive four-poster bed. She caught a glimpse of a dressing room and a second bath beyond.
    A knock sounded. Mac opened the door to Fergus, who
entered with Artemis's sorry-looking duffel. He carried it
into the bedroom as if it were made of solid gold. It
looked pitiful perched on a carved mahogany luggage
rack.

    Slow heat climbed into her cheeks. Mac hardly would've
ordered her bag brought to his bedroom if he didn't
have sex on the brain. But that was good, she told herself.
Very good. It played very nicely into her plans. Now, if
only she could stop feeling so damn guilty...
    She plastered a smile on her face. "Nice place you have
here. But it's not your main home, I take it?"
    "No. I've got a house in Inverness I share with two
Sidhe