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me.” She bit back a grin. “I should have asked why you expected Nigel to be included in your history.”
    “Pets are rare in our time, which makes him noteworthy, and because he is yours.”
    Not only were they crazy, but they obviously had her mixed up with somebody else. “I’m nobody special.”
    “You are…you will be…a founder.”
    “Right, if you say so. What is a founder?”
    “A founder—” Vilmos stopped for a long second before he continued. “I am not certain that it is safe for me to discuss the events of our past, which have not happened yet in your present.”
    “Our talking might disrupt the time continuum?” she asked, trying and failing to keep skepticism out of her voice.
    “Not conversation per se. Your actions or non-actions might change based upon knowledge you should not have.” Vilmos stood and paced. “The possible effects of our insertion into the past are incalculable, however certain events have made plain our presence in your time already changed the course of history.”
    As he talked, he grew more agitated, more serious, and more adorable. “What changed?”
    He shook his head. “Further discussion would be unwise.”
    At least his delusion was consistent. She ate three spoonfuls more of the veggie soup and another cracker before uncapping a bottle of water and taking a healthy sip. “If your presence can alter future events in such dangerous ways, then why did you come?”
    “We had to prevent the cyborgs from capturing you.” He met her gaze squarely.
    She searched his face, but read nothing except straightforward truth in his handsome features. Especially when he smiled. He had the too-cute-for-his-own-good looks of a much too experienced, naughty choirboy. Adorable or not, this very sane-appearing man had suffered a complete psychotic break, or else he and his friends were from the future.
    Minka wasn’t at all certain which possibility scared her more.
     
    Minka’s pink tongue darted out, cleaning crumbs and a grain of salt from her full lips. Staring was rude. Deliberate rudeness was unthinkable for Vilmos and yet he could not drag his attention away from her incredible, sensual mouth. Lorcan was correct, she was beautiful. She treated him as her equal and Vilmos was already falling in love with her.
    Beneath his now uncomfortable armor, his erection rose, eager to serve her. Since she had given no sign she wanted to make love, he was disappointed. He met her eyes, still hoping for the missing indication she wanted intimacy.
    “Earth?” Minka looked at him as if she expected an explanation, but sadly without desire.
    Afraid to even glance at her breasts, he focused on her eyes and cleared the lust out of his throat. “Sorry, what about Earth?”
    “The place you’re from is this planet and it’s still Earth, right?”
    “Ah, yes.” He sought for something clever to add then finished dully. “We are from your future Earth.”
    “So this time travel works how, exactly?”
    “Sorry, I cannot discuss the subject. All information related to time travel and transporter technology is restricted to those with a direct need for access.” His ducked his head again, painfully aware how cold, dull and stilted his reply sounded.
    She appeared to consider his answer for a few seconds. “Your last name is unusual.”
    “Mechs do not have traditional surnames—more a designator to distinguish our origins. I am referred to as Vilmos two of three, which appends my position in the Triad 341926—the combat unit’s serial number—to my given name.” He warmed to the change in subject and his side of the conversation smoothed, once the subject turned to the solid ground of factual information. “Batzorg is one of three, first—the leader of our unit.”
    “Batzorg carried me here?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re the doctor.”
    He nodded. “Close, med-technology, communications engineer and transporter operation are my areas of responsibility. All mechs are