Timestruck Read Online Free

realized that the jolt of her landing had banished the mist
obscuring her vision. With perfect clarity she saw her coat drift
through the ceiling and watched it float down to cover both her and
the man under a swath of black leather.
    With another roar the man threw off the coat,
just as Gina’s heavy purse thudded to the floor beside the bed.
There was still no sign of a hole in the ceiling.
    Early morning light was pouring through a
pair of windows at one side of the room, so Gina was able to see
with unusually sharp vision the man who held her pinned to the
mattress. He was staring at her as if he could not believe what his
eyes beheld. Still holding on to her wrists, he shifted position so
his astonished gaze could take in all of her, from her short dark
hair to her black turtle-neck sweater and black leather miniskirt,
to her black tights and boots. Then he moved on top of her again
and looked directly into her eyes.
    Gina stared back into silvery gray eyes that
were like mysterious, bottomless pools of ice water. His lashes and
eyebrows were brown, but his hair was blond, cut to just below his
ears. He was a handsome man, with a long, straight nose and a
square jaw, and he had definitely been working out regularly,
because he was a mass of hard muscle pressing down on her skinny
body.
    His mouth was beautiful. Perfectly chiseled
lips curved upward to meet a tiny line at either side of his mouth.
Gina guessed he was a person who smiled a lot. She caught a quick
whiff of a slightly piney fragrance. He smelled good, too. Her nose
seemed to be working overtime, just like her eyesight.
    The unknown man’s weight on her was not
unpleasant; it was almost welcome. For just a moment Gina reacted
to his closeness with unaccustomed warmth, relaxing a little in his
grasp, almost as if she trusted him. Her lips parted in an
involuntary invitation. She moistened her dry lips, and she saw how
he watched the slow movement of her tongue.
    That was the instant when she remembered what
she hated most about men.
    “Get off me, you jerk!” She heaved with all
her strength. The man didn’t move an inch. To her fury, he just
grinned at her. Then, slowly, as if to make it plain that the
action was by his choice and not by her command, he rolled to the
side of the bed and sat there.
    “Who are you?” he demanded. He was no longer
shouting. His voice was lowered to a pleasant level, but his eyes
were narrowed, and Gina realized he was regarding her as if she
were an enemy. “You are not one of the maidservants. I have never
seen you before.”
    She couldn’t blame him for being annoyed.
After all, she had dropped into his bedroom while he was sound
asleep. She disliked being wakened abruptly, and it was pretty
clear that he felt the same way.
    “Who are you?” she asked, rubbing her
forehead with one freed hand, trying to clear her mind. What,
exactly, had happened?
    ‘What are you?” he countered.
    “What do you mean, what am I? You have eyes.
Can’t you see I’m a woman?”
    “I can see that you appear to be a woman. I
also note that you bear no weapons, unless you carry a knife hidden
in those very impractical boots.”
    “Where am I?” she asked.
    “In my bedroom,” he said. “I assumed you knew
as much. Answer my questions. Who are you? Did Fastrada send
you?”
    “Who is Fastrada?” The instant she spoke she
could see that he thought he had made a mistake. It was apparent to
her that he wished he hadn’t mentioned that peculiar-sounding
name.
    “Wait a minute,” she said. “What kind of
language is this we’re talking? How do I know how to speak it, and
how do I know it’s not English?”
    “I understand now,” he responded. “You are
mad. Who but a madwoman would dress as you do? Who else would claim
that she doesn’t recognize the language she is speaking as if she
was born to it, or dare to say she doesn’t know who is the queen of
Francia?”
    He put out a hand to touch her arm. Fearing
he’d try to