See Part One for Full Disclaimers and Author's Note.

- Three -

Rhea put down her cards and seriously considered either dropping out of the game or shooting herself.  Or both.  She scooted her chair back and headed for the bar.  "Anybody else want a beer?" she asked politely, but she wasn't really listening for any answers.  This was the third hand she'd lost, and she couldn't blame it on bad cards or bad luck; she wasn't paying attention, just as she couldn't quite pay attention to her music, and it was beginning to get on her nerves.  She'd never been this bad over a man before.

But he's not any man, is he? a voice whispered, sounding a bit wary even to Rhea.

Great, she thought with a grimace;  now I'm putting characteristics to imaginary voices.  Rhea, you don't need a beer, you need therapy.  Serious, medicated therapy.

Joe gave her a sympathetic smile as she handed people their requested drinks and sat down again.  "Okay," he said.  He finished shuffling the cards and started dealing them out.  "Here we go."

Rhea eyed her cards, then pushed thoughts of tall, dark Highlanders out her head and concentrated.  Until his voice sounded.  She nearly dropped her cards and made a last-ditch effort at nonchalance as she turned to see him standing by the bar.  "MacLeod.  What are you doin' here?" she heard Joe say, but it came as if through a fog.  Her eyes met MacLeod's and she found she simply couldn't look away.  So much for nonchalance.

It didn't help any that she seemed to have the same effect on MacLeod.  He dragged his gaze away from her and smiled at Joe.  "Claudia's doing a performance at her hotel, so I thought I'd drop by and say hello."

"You'll only have an hour, then," Rhea heard someone say and realized with a start that it was herself.  "Unless she's up to being alone in her room?"

MacLeod smiled at her and the room temperature jumped up.  "You can win a few hands of poker in an hour."

Joe gave a snerk of laughter.  "Yeah, especially if you were around when the game was invented."

Rhea smiled back.  "Yes, but it's more fun the slower you play it."

MacLeod's smile widened, picking up the verbal gauntlet with pleasure, if not complete consciousness of the fact.  "So I've learned over the years."

"I'll bet."  MacLeod smiled; Rhea blushed.   Oh God.  I did not just say that.

Joe stared from one to the other, an eyebrow raised, then cleared his throat.  "So, you were going to play? Poker," he added, to prevent any further mischief; the other three Watchers at the table were looking at them with interest.

MacLeod's gaze went to his friend and he smiled, a bit sheepishly.  "Right.  Deal me in."

The other Watchers made room, no longer uncomfortable around the Immortal after spending weeks hanging around Joe and therefore MacLeod.  It was with mixed emotions that he sat down in the space cleared for him across from Rhea.

The light was shining on her softly, creating an auburn halo about her head, and her eyes met his reluctantly, but sparkled when they did.  MacLeod swallowed hard and wondered if this was such a good idea after all.  Granted, when he had headed for Joe's, he hadn't expected to find Rhea there.  He had thought she'd be at Claudia's recital.  He said as much, trying to sound as casual as possible.  Rhea looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, well," she said.  "There are a lot of things I enjoy."

MacLeod couldn't help himself.  He opened his mouth, and got a firm kick in the shins before any words could come out.  He turned to Joe to receive a smile with as much warning as amusement.  The message was as clear as if the other man had spoken it aloud.  Don't even think about it.

MacLeod smiled back and turned to the cards Joe had dealt him.  I wish it was that easy, friend, he thought.  I wish it was that easy.

Images floated into his mind, both real and imagined.  The way light moved on her hair, turning it glowing auburn rather than a brown as deep as his own, the way her eyes sparkled with humor...and with desire, as he saw them in his dreams.  The way her fingers moved with delicate, precise grace, rearranging her cards...and the way they felt on his skin in imaginary caresses, or digging into his shoulders in passion.

The oddly familiar flick of her fingers to push a lock of hair out of her eyes, or the way her mouth crooked in a half-smile as she answered something Joe had said...and the way it felt, on his own mouth and on his body, warm and tender, or eager and hungry.  The sound of her laughter...and the sound of her voice, crying out his name as he moved against her, inside her, bringing him so close to the edge even in sleep that he was glad Claudia wasn't staying at the loft.

MacLeod swallowed and gave a small prayer of thanks that he was sitting so close to the table; his slacks were starting to get uncomfortably tight and if his chair had been a little further out, it would have been very obvious.  As it was, he shifted in his chair, trying to get the images out of his mind and therefore relax his body.  Then he made the mistake of looking up, and saw an equally taut set to Rhea's chin, the curves of her mouth compressed.  Her cheeks were ever so slightly flushed, barely visible with her coloring, but her eyes glittered, looking almost fevered as their gazes met.  She was thinking of me too, he thought with a start, and felt his breath catch on a sudden wave of desire.

Rhea must have seen it, because she blushed more, her eyes diving to her cards before she cleared her throat.  "You know, come to think of it," she said suddenly, laying her cards down, "I really should go to that recital.  It's not often Claudia does an honest-to-goodness pro-bono event.  I'm out, fellas."  She gave each of them a smile, her eyes meeting MacLeod's briefly then sliding away.  She stood and reached for her purse; if she fumbled for it a bit, only MacLeod really noticed.  "I'll see you, ah, later.  Good night."

The others called farewells after her, then turned back to the game.  Joe raised an eyebrow at MacLeod before doing the same; he wasn't exactly relieved when MacLeod blushed.



"Shitshitshitshitshit," Rhea muttered, heading for her car at a near jog.  "This is not happening to me, this cannot be happening to me."  She unlocked the door and yanked it open, then sat down heavily in the seat, her breathing still harsh.  "Fuck," she said, with feeling, then laughed.  "Actually, that's precisely it."

The laugh turned into a groan and she leaned her head against the head-rest, trying to calm herself down.  It didn't work any better now than it had for the past three nights, or during the poker game, sitting across from MacLeod.  She had kept wanting to reach out her foot, brush it against his, just to see what his reaction would be, just to make sure he was real.

She let out a sigh.  "Oh, he's real, all right."  She knew it because her reaction to him was as intense as it was in the dreams where he held her, made love to her, until she was as near to the point of an actual climax as was possible without physical stimulation.  Which, her body had clearly started informing her in the bar, was precisely what she wanted and needed.

With leggings she felt it even more clearly, every shift of weight against the car-seat shooting an electric jolt of pleasure and need through her, begging her to complete the sensations the sight of him had produced.  Rhea groaned again and resisted temptation with serious effort.  It wouldn't be the first time she'd made herself come after dreams of him, when she was as wet as if his caresses had been real and not imagined.  As wet as she was now.  But now, having been so close to him, having seen the desire in his eyes when he looked at her, she didn't want any hands but his touching her, making her come; not even her own.

"Oh God," she whispered, trying to slow her heart and her breathing.  "God, what the hell am I going to do?"

***

If the week started off badly, it ended worse.  Rhea was glad that Claudia had indeed started training with MacLeod, but that happy occurrence also meant Rhea had more reason to be near him than not.  And it was obvious from the way MacLeod looked at her that he felt the same mix of joy and determined frustration as she did every time they were near one another.  After the poker game, they came to a mutual, if silent, agreement to avoid one another's presence.  The near-painful results of the electricity between them were disturbing as hell for all concerned.  Including Joe and Claudia.

"Duncan, you're not listening to me!"

MacLeod turned a startled, apologetic gaze to Claudia.  "Sorry.  What did you say?"

Claudia gave a long-suffering sigh and placed her hands on her hips, full lips pouting.  MacLeod reflected distantly that the stance probably would have looked much better on a certain Watcher...  He shook himself from the thought and smiled at Claudia contritely as she said, "I was asking your opinion on something, but never mind.  I can see your mind is somewhere else."

"No, please," he said, apologetic.  "Tell me."

A tiny smile flitted across Claudia's face.  "I said I was thinking," she announced, "of introducing Rhea to my friend Michael.  You know, the one who runs the symphony in Paris.  I think he'd like her.  She could probably play fourth string if she wanted."

It was an insult and MacLeod knew it; Claudia watched with amused interest as he rose to the bait.  He brow furrowed thunderously and the glare he shot her would have reduced a lesser ego to jello.  As it was, she simply smiled sweetly as he opened his mouth to voice his opinion.  Then he froze and his gaze darkened even more.  "Don't be a brat, Claudia," he said tightly.

Claudia chuckled.  "Really, Duncan.  It's obvious you like her, and she likes you.  I don't see why you don't just ask her out.  It would be better than moping around the way you've been, sulking."

MacLeod frowned at her.  "Because she's a Watcher and it's not allowed.  And," he added, "I have to been moping around.  Or sulking."

Claudia slowly raised an eyebrow.  "Of course not," she agreed dryly.  "You've been tripping over yourself figuring out a new sword move."

"Practice your music," Duncan said sourly, and turned back to dinner he was preparing.

Claudia gave a quiet laugh, then let him be.  Claudia couldn't help but wonder if the violinist felt the same or just hid it better.  She was betting on the latter; she'd certainly seen Rhea's eyes follow MacLeod, then dart away when he turned.  To be honest, she wished he would either get over his obvious infatuation or act on it - either solution would make it considerably easier for her to get along with her Watcher.  In addition to being a great help, Claudia grudgingly admitted to herself that the girl had some margin of talent.  And, though it took a while for Claudia to admit this as well, it was rather refreshing to have someone who would unhesitatingly let air out of her ego.

And they would make a cute couple, Claudia mused.  Both of them olive skinned and dark haired, but she with a delicate structure, where his was bold.  Their eyes near twins as well, hers only a shade or so darker, almond where Duncan's were a touch more square.  And both with beautiful lips and killer smiles.  Indeed, if she didn't know the possibility didn't exist for Immortals, Claudia would have said that they would have had beautiful children.

Claudia smiled, picturing them together.  Duncan seeming to tower over Rhea's scant 5'4", until she turned on that sparkling gaze that brooked no argument with her opinion.  Rhea Larrabee was not one to take bullshit from anyone, not even a world famous diva; Claudia therefore doubted a four-hundred-year-old Immortal stood much chance.

She was right in at least one way.  MacLeod didn't stand a chance, and he knew it.  He had known it from the moment their eyes met in the concert hall, with equal desire and knowledge.  He had found a woman who was not only beautiful and talented, kind and giving, capable of being either gentle or harsh when needed, but who knew about Immortals.  A woman with whom he could be completely open because she already knew about the Game, understood what he went through, the things he had learned and how.  A woman who didn't recoil from it because in a distant, different way, she was already a part of it.  A woman he didn't need to lie to in order to protect, to whom he wouldn't have to worry about explaining odd visits...and whom he could never have for precisely those same reasons.  He knew it, deep down, had repeated it like a mantra every time he was near her.  It didn't help; his heart continued to find more and more beauty in her, body and spirit, more for him to want and need.

MacLeod forced himself to stop thinking anything at all, blanking out his mind in the hope that his body would calm itself from the reaction it was already experiencing at the very thought of being alone with her, for a day, a lifetime.  He breathed slowly in, then just as slowly out, forcing himself to relax, to release the energy and desire which had so quickly made him hard.  His hands clenched on the counter and accidentally touched the edge of the pot that sat on the range.  The burn made him yelp in pain, sticking the injured fingers in his mouth, but at least they drove away thoughts of her.  For now.

Continued

Email the author!
[email protected]

Back to 'Highlander' Fanfic Index

Back to Main Library Index         Back to Main Fanfiction Index

Adventures of Sinbad   ~~~     Andromeda   ~~~     Angel   ~~~     Babylon5   ~~~     BeastMaster: The Series   ~~~     Beauty & the Beast
Buffy the Vampire Slayer   ~~~     Charmed  ~~~     The Crow: Stairway to Heaven   ~~~     Crusade   ~~~     due South   ~~~     Farscape
Gundam Wing   ~~~     Highlander: The Series   ~~~     Miscellaneous Fiction   ~~~     Mortal Kombat   ~~~     Mortal Kombat: Conquest
Poltergeist the Legacy   ~~~     Raven   ~~~     TSAoJules Verne  ~~~     The Sentinel   ~~~     Stargate SG1   ~~~     Star Trek: Voyager

I can't fix it if I don't know it's broken, so if you see anything wrong,  please let me know.  Thank you and enjoy your stay!