Gift of Fire

do this to me. It must be the way you look at me or something. I’m not sure, but I know it isn’t the corridor that does it because I don’t start feeling this way until you start leering at me. It’s all your fault.”
    Jonas chuckled, sounding pleased. “Well then, that’s just as it should be,” he said complacently. “Let’s go upstairs and find a whip. It’s my turn.”
    “Jonas!” She blushed hotly.
    But he was already lifting her into his arms and carrying her through the villa door.
    Maggie Frampton was hovering in the main hall. She peered uneasily at Jonas and Verity. “I wondered where you two had gone.”
    “We just took a little walk,” Jonas said smoothly. “Verity is exhausted.”
    “I know what you mean,” Maggie said wistfully. “I used to get that same exhausted look on my face when Digby invited me to go down to the torture chamber.” She turned and walked heavily out of the hall.
    “She really misses him,” Verity said softly. “It’s going to be hard on her when Doug sells this place.”
    “Speaking of a hard-on,” Jonas murmured as he started up the stairs, “let me tell you about my little problem.”
    “I’ve seen this problem of yours before, Jonas Quarrel, and it’s not little.”
     
    Maggie listened to Quarrel’s bootsteps ringing on the stone as he carried Verity up the stairs. Her hands bunched into broad fists. More than anything else she wanted them all to leave. She just wanted them out of here. Digby would have felt the same way.
    How he would have despised Preston Yarwood. Yarwood was nothing but a clever con man, Digby would say. And he would have kicked Oliver Crump and his silly crystals out the front door, too. Maggie didn’t like the way Oliver watched everyone and everything from behind those little round glasses. Something told her he saw far too much.
    And as for Slade Spencer, Digby wouldn’t have tolerated him and his drugs for a minute. Maggie frowned as she thought about Spencer. There was something vaguely familiar about him. She wished she could put her finger on it. When she got the chance, she decided, she’d have a little peek at his things upstairs. It would be easy enough to do; she had a master key to all the rooms in the villa.
    But the main problem around here was Doug and Elyssa. They held the fate of the villa in their hands.
     
    Later, Verity, who was lying on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and leaned over Jonas to get his attention. He opened one eye and regarded her with lazy indulgence.
    “You’re glaring at me again. Didn’t your father ever warn you about frown lines?” he asked. “Pests are at high risk for them. They need to take extra precautions.”
    Verity arched her brows. “Such as?”
    “Such as smiling at their lovers a lot and practicing saying yes.”
    “I say yes to you far too often. Look where it gets me.” She tilted her chin to indicate the tousled bed.
    Jonas contrived to look hurt. “I do it all for you, and this is the thanks I get.”
    “For
me
.
”
    “Sure. Think of it as a beauty treatment. Keeps you toned and lubricated.”
    “Some beauty treatment. It’s going to turn me into a giant whale during the next few months,” Verity complained.
    To her surprise, Jonas’s expression sobered. He drew a finger along the line of her jaw. “Are you scared, honey?” he asked gently.
    Verity automatically started to deny it, but reality stopped her. “A little,” she admitted.
    “Don’t be,” Jonas ordered softly. “I’ll be there with you. We’ll handle it together the same way we handle those transitions into the time corridor. No sweat.”
    Verity’s mouth curved. “ ‘No sweat.’ I’ll remember that promise.”
    He touched her lips with his fingertip. His golden eyes were brilliant and very, very serious. “You do that.”
    She sighed and rested her chin on his chest. His strength was always a source of reassurance and security. It was true there was a wide streak of the primitive in Jonas, a side of him that knew and understood far too much about violence. But she would never need to fear him. “I do love you, Jonas.”
    His gaze was intent. “Just as well, since we’re going to be married.” He went on quickly before she could argue the point, “Now tell me why you were glaring at me a minute ago.”
    “I was not glaring at you. That was an expression of thoughtful concern.”
    “Excuse me. Why were you glaring at me with an expression of