"Your privy member tastes of an aphrodisiac," Bertran whispered as he licked his captive's sweet folds. "'Tis more intoxicating than mead to me."

Her excited pants changed to hysterical sputters. "What the hell? Privy member? Don't you think that's carrying authenticity a little too far? How do you keep a straight face?"

Such female sarcasm would never do.

He let go of her legs, and the air around them stirred as he came forcefully to his feet. As was his right as her prospective suitor, he applied a sword-callused palm to her bottom. While she yelped in astonishment and rubbed her buttock, he gave her a rough shake.

"Think not to mock me with your sharp barbs," he growled. "Use me not as a brunt of your jests. I am not like the males of your time, who bow and scrape and earn naught from their womenfolk but derision." He took both her wrists into his grip.

"Listen, I don't mind a little role playing in the bedroom. Whatever your kink is okies by me. We're both adults here. And make no mistake, I would never mock or make jest of a guy who can use his tongue the tricky way you just used yours on me. A man who gives good cunnilingus is too hard to find."

She laughed, but her merriment sounded forced to his ears. "But, dude, here's where things get sketchy--I don't know you--so we need to set some ground rules here, some parameters. Like a safe word, especially if you're into BDSM, as the stinging imprint of your hand on my bare ass would seem to imply. And not that I'm complaining about a little subjugation, you understand, because I'm not, but rules are rules, and I need a parachute to bail if I decide to end it."

"Bdsm." He tsk-tsked. "Your language is certainly difficult to pronounce."

"My language is your language, only without the lofty accent. I'm American. And even proper Brits must be familiar with that acronym for whips and leather and velvet ribbons and other assorted fun. There has to be 'Ye Olde Sex Toy Shoppes' here in staid London, so stop trippin' on me and let's keep it real. You know, real with a BDSM subtext."

"I know naught of what you speak. And this word, this bdsm, contains no vowels, and I can make no sense of its definition within the context of your phrase."

With his excellent night vision, even in the dark, he could see the whites of her eyes as they rolled. "If you use restraints on women, that's BDSM."

"I always use restraints. On captives. Like you." Removing one such restraint from his belt, he strapped her wrists together.

At first, she giggled at this, but when he cinched her hands tighter, she began to struggle in earnest.

"Hey, dude, hold on there a sec. What about the safe word? Everyone uses a safe word. So that if things get too hot and heavy, I can refuse."

"Settle yourself," he told her tersely. Their ways were not her ways, but she must learn proper behavior to stay with him. Otherwise, she would never fit into her new world. Village ostracism would hurt her more than any rebuke he would offer. He would not have her suffer that sort of isolation, especially from her own gender. She would need her fellow women, the elders in particular, during birthing. He would not be of much assistance to her then.

For that reason alone, she must learn her place as a female, which was not one of inferiority, necessarily--females could and did wield power in his time--but in approach. To be content with her lot, she must learn when to push and when to give way. Giving way was not always a sign of weakness.

Despite what she might think in the coming days ahead, he very much wished for her contentment, wished for her to fit. At his first sighting of her when she was only a young maiden, he knew his search for a female had ended. No more in his travels would he seek out another to mate. He had found the right one in her.

Now to convince her of the same.

"No safe word," he decreed.

"Hey, you just can't make up indiscriminate rules and expect me to follow, willy-nilly, without any say so."

"And yet, you are the one on the tether following me." He began pulling her along.

"Whoa, dude. Scary time."

"Not at all," he said and gave the strap a brisk yank. "As long as you obey me, you will have no cause for concern."

She went rigid. "You...you...can't do this. There are laws against the abduction of US citizens."

That, he ignored. In the absence of the constable, he was the law here at the Tower. "I have been celibate for years, but before my life changed, I had much stamina in the bedchamber, much practice in bed sport. More screams await you whence came the last. I shall make your sheath awash with pleasure. 'Tis obvious to me that your prior lover did not leave you satisfied. You will never get with child without achieving your womanly release."

"I have zero interest in getting with child. I just broke up with the Fungus...I mean...my boyfriend and I'm back to being single again. And...and...you can just stop this autocratic dick swinging right now. Who the fuck do you think you're dealing with here? I've taken courses in self-defense and..."

He could not understand much of her oration and so he turned a deaf ear to her protestations and continued to do what he would do. While he dragged her along after him, she fussed and fumed, and he merely smiled, taking joy in her companionship. For years, he had hoped she would return to the Tower. Ever the optimist, during that interval, he had readied himself for her, for the responsibility of taking a mate. How could he expect her accommodation to their union in such a brief passage of time?

He could not. And so, he would simply be patient with her. She would come around to acceptance.

Eventually.

And her capitulation would be all that much sweeter for the wait.

"Where the fuck are you taking me?" she screeched.

Her voice was a melody he savored, regardless of its immediate shrillness, and he responded, not in kind, but in appreciation for her presence in her life. This was a lifetime commitment, not a transitory rut.

"I could lead you down through the crypt," he soothed, "and into the subcrypt, and then to the keep's base. Built in Roman times, the basement contains an ancient well and many private places to conduct a tryst. We would be undisturbed there. But why not indulge ourselves? I shall bring you across the green to my accommodations."

"Fine. Do that. Dragging me along on this leash will attract attention, as in crowds of gaping-mouthed tourists, and those Beefeaters will come running to my rescue. So back off and let me go before you get into trouble."

"Nonsense. No one will bat an eye at us. In your scant garb, you have the appearance of a captive slave or a whore."

"Hold on there. Just because I let you go down on me once does not a ho make me..."

He interrupted. "What it makes you is a female prime for coupling. And make no mistake, your lack of garb gladdens me. My only point was this: no one will question my bringing a female in her undertunic to my bedchamber upstairs at the keep. We shall have complete privacy there. And a spacious bed. As I saidind--ulgence."

"Bringing me upstairs in the keep? That's what we call B and E in my country. "Breaking and entering" to you. You just can't go anywhere you want in this tourist trap. Some areas are open to the public; some are not."

"I told you, 'tis my private bedchamber. No need to break down the portal to enter. And once inside, a sturdy bar drops in place to keep out intruders."

"Listen, let's get serious here. Say you do manage somehow to get me across to wherever you plan on taking me. I read the tourist brochure, and I quote, 'The Tower of London closes most days at 6 p.m. and on all holidays, including Boxing Day.' Whatever the hell that is. You just can't wander around anywhere you like, dude, as if you own the place. This is an historical landmark, and there are rules and regs against trespassing. Not to mention alarm systems and video surveillance equipment. Need I continue? So, just let me go, and I promise not to report any of this to the proper authorities."

"I cannot release you. In truth, I cannot hold myself back from you even now. You will be mine before the vernal equinox."

"Whoa. And that would be when--spring? As in March?"

"Exactly. When ravens begin their mating ritual and breeding soon follows."

"No shit, and who cares?"

He sent her a look of censure. "A profanity falling from a female tongue is cause for punishment here."

"Well, pardon my fucking French," she said in a huff.

"'Tis not French you spoke, but common Anglo-Saxon, and such coarse expressions are not tolerated from ladies."

"Then my ass is covered cuz I never professed to be one."

"You are my lady. I knew it the instant I first saw you. I can smell your musk. And, in that scant attire, see the outline of your form in all its magnificence."

"All. All," she shouted. "Are you calling me overweight, because if you are, you sexist misogynist, then--"

"Overweight" He stopped his advance and furrowed his brow as he thought. He could see he had offended her in some unfathomable manner, and that is why she had struck out so vehemently. Mayhap, he had even hurt her, which hurt him in kind. He had meant her no malice, had certainly not set out to malign her. He was enraptured with her!

He bowed low before her, and then straightened and looked her in the eye as he would a man and an equal. "I do apologize for my inadvertent insult. I believe you accuse me of calling you too stout of girth, which is a preposterous notion. A female could never be so, for there is no such description, not in my time. Forgive my lack of discretion, but your arse is a wonderment that draws my cock from its hood. Between your thighs, I shall find heaven on earth."

"Listen, that flowery speech just goes to prove how way out there you are. I'm no shrink, but you sound delusional, with just enough eccentric tossed into the mix to give you an offbeat charm. And believe me, up until you lassoed my wrists in leather, I was charmed. But whatever the diagnosis, you're a real space cadet. How do you think you can keep me here? Spring is like, what—nine months away? That's some slow burn you got there. You must have taken one massive dose of Viagra this morning if you can keep it up that long."

"Dose of Viagra--what alchemy is this?"

"All right. I'll play along. Viagra is an erection inducer."

"I beg your pardon?"

"To make your cock get hard and stay hard."

"I have no need for such magic. Did I not tell you? I shall make your sheath swim in pleasure. And we are now in mid-March. The morrow begins spring. We have little time to waste."

"You're certifiable. You know that, dude?"

"Certifiable as to what, pray?"

"As to crazy. As to bats-in-the-belfry insane."

"Methinks you have overstated your case, my captive. I assure you, I am far from mad. Indeed, I am sound of wit. And, point of fact, ravens, not bats, reside in these turrets."

"How silly of me. I stand corrected. Huge difference between bats and ravens. Your steering me right makes everything A-okay. Except, you need to look at a calendar."

"How so?"

"Let me spell it out for you. There's a heat wave going on in London, and you're dressed for winter."

"Because 'tis winter. As I already explained, spring starts on the morrow, which is why we must make haste."

"Then why are tourists wearing summer clothes, huh, huh?" she asked belligerently. "Then why is it scorching outside. Wanna explain that to me?"

He looked down, then up. "Then why are your teats pointed like arrows, if not from the cold?"

"Teats? Yuck! Tits, I can handle...if you handle them the way I like, which you did. Even hooters, while offensive, is at least funny. But teats. Ugh. Big no-no. What do you take me for--a cow? FYI, my nipples always poke out when I'm chilled."

"Which you have every reason to be, as 'tis winter."

"Your argument doesn't hold Perrier. I'm from changeable New England, where double-digit drops in temperature can happen in the space of the same hour. Why, in Boston, I've seen it rain on one side of a street, but not the other. So, the temps took a temporary nosedive. Doesn't mean it's winter. And I'm not impressed with your posturing."

Not so he. In the midst of a confusing situation that would have left many a battle-experienced warlord trembling in his boots, her posturing was that of a warrior. She stood up to him, and that indeed impressed him.

The haphazardness of his approach to travel oftentimes had him stumbling into times where he stuck out like a sore thumb, and sent him scurrying about for something appropriate to wear. He had taken particular care over his grooming this morn. In the armory, he had puffed up his chest and preened in hopes she would notice him.

But nay. She had looked straight ahead, refusing to accept his courtship, for all that he had worn his best braies and hooded tunic.

Garb was everything when blending into one's surroundings. Each era, after all, had its own distinct flavor and challenge. A willingness to understand and adapt to the customs and culture of the period made all the difference between a successful trip and a grim failure.

And possibly coming to a bad end.

When traveling through time, the loss of his head was always a possibility. Which explained why he would go anywhere once, but he would only return to those years where his survival seemed reasonably certain. He was bored, not foolhardy.

Her century provided one such destination, a sentimental favorite too, as that was where he had found her.

A fascinating place was her era in England's long history, fraught with high emotion and drama and few restrictions as to their display. Right here at the Tower, he had witnessed men kissing other men, women kissing other women. Ha! Upon occasion, he'd even seen members of the opposite genders kissing one another.

While he applauded the open carnality of the century, its magic escaped him. Why did everyone hold different-hued boxes up to either their eyes or ears immediately upon entering the fortress? Why did they oft converse aloud to themselves while using these objects, totally ignoring their companions? Rather rude behavior in his estimation.

But what did he know?

He traveled to break the tedium of his confinement, not to judge. 'Twas the people of the time who interested him, not their magic.

Still and all, there was much he would like to learn. Some many questions buzzed inside him. If he asked, would she answer?

Mayhap not straight away.

Her nose was out of joint at present. And in the immediate and foreseeable future, she was likely to remain angered with him. But when she became used to him and had adjusted to the change in her circumstances, he would pose her all sorts of questions.

At any rate, it gladdened him to visit her twenty-first century in his quest to find her again. He liked how in the heat of the summer months, people went about in scant garb, males and females alike clad in short braies and overtunics. He greatly approved of any custom that allowed him to see so much of her sumptuous flesh.

And, as he always fought his battles with an eye to a win, surrendering small skirmishes for the sake of ultimate victory, he would relent here, for 'twas much too soon to explain the variation between his time and hers any more fully. "I concede the debate to you, my captive."