After the Storm (23 page)

His kiss, his touch, became demanding and she answered in kind, losing herself Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

in ardent need. She flung away reason and lived only in sensation. She stripped off her jewelry and unbound her hair while he watched her deliberately provocative movements with a hungry, scorching gaze. She touched the silk of his undertunic and her chemise, bunching and pulling it away. Then the silk disappeared and they were flesh to flesh, fitting perfectly together. Their bodies twined, her dark skin against his pale, forming seductive sinuous shadowed patterns as they moved and twisted across the tiny room.

They shared kisses that were the deep joining of souls sort, and then there were kisses that explored each other's bodies in intimate, lingering detail. They touched, hands and mouths working over hard muscle and deep into soft, hidden places. They fought a long, pleasurable game with sweet invasions and gentle forays, each more arousing than the next. Each touch grew more urgent, more demanding, as they strained closer to completion.

They shared sounds, sobs and moans, gasps of delight mixed with cries of pleasure so intense it was near pain, and, occasionally, laughter that was nearly silent but full of shared secrets and discoveries. No words passed between them, there was no need, their communication was flawless. They answered each other's needs so perfectly it was as if they'd never made love to anyone else.

Her blood had long since turned to molten fire before he entered her. Yet she was still so full of need for this man that she was lost in a fresh storm of sensation as he filled her. The storm built out of control. It flooded through them, swirled around them, dragged them under its relentless currents. Time stopped as he moved inside her and brought her to completion once more. Or it stretched out to forever as the tempest took her again. They weren't alone, they weren't lost and nothing existed but this long, delicious moment of consummation.

Bastien held her close as the world came back into focus. His body was covered in sweat, and with the memory of her kisses, of her caressing hands. The Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

memories were fresh, and burned into him. She was the only woman in his world. He couldn't remember how any other woman had ever felt. The musky scent in his nostrils was hers alone. The taste on his tongue was uniquely her own, sweet, delicious and his. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, soft, round and heavy to the touch.

"Mine," he whispered, without rancor or regret. "You are mine. All of you." And he lay his head on those soft breasts and fell into sated, exhausted, peaceful sleep.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't get all possessive if I were you," Libby answered, but there was no seriousness in the softly spoken words. She didn't think he'd heard her anyway. Besides, she kind of liked the thought of belonging to someone. No, she liked the thought of belonging to Bastien. "I'm as crazy as you are," she concluded, and fell asleep with her arms around his shoulders.

She woke up laughing, happy for the first time in a long time. She was also alone, but she didn't mind that for the moment. "It's going to be all right," she said to the flimsy walls as she sat up. "Really. I think I'm beginning to figure this whole thing out. Maybe. At least I was dreaming some lovely dreams." Her memories were stirring. Though she couldn't call them up at will, she could feel things bubbling close to the surface of her mind, almost ready to burst into the light. Somehow the touch of Bastien's hands, the feel of his body covering hers had stimulated more than just her senses and emotions. Something was definitely going on in her head. "Sex as therapy," she said with a satisfied smirk. "Why didn't the shrinks think of that? Of course, they couldn't have provided Bastien back at Time Search headquarters." She didn't think anyone less than Bastien would do. She stretched and yawned. "I wonder how long I've been asleep?"

It was dark in the windowless hut, with more rain than light coming in through the narrow door. She was naked, but Bastien had left her covered with her cloak when he'd left. Not only was she naked but she could still feel the imprint of his Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

hands where he'd touched her. Claimed her. That's what he'd done.

She couldn't help but smile, wondering if he felt as possessed by her as she did by him. If he didn't, she thought she just might have to work on him a little more as she relished the thought of making love to him again. Not that she should, of course. Not that she ought to. Not until they'd gotten their memories completely back at least. It really wasn't therapy, she told herself sternly, just self-indulgence, but she didn't believe that. He didn't deserve to be used by her.

But she didn't feel like that was what had happened. They'd made love because it didn't seem like they could do anything else. She hadn't been able to stop it, and didn't think she could wait for some more suitable, appropriate time. Because, if she was honest with herself, she'd have to admit that no time was suitable. It nearly tore her heart out to be honest with herself, so she pushed honesty from her thoughts for a while longer. She felt like she'd been waiting all her life for him as it was. She supposed she should be guilty about what had already gone on between them. Maybe she'd try to be guilty later. Maybe she'd try to be strong later. Right now, she supposed she should find this Bastien of Bale.

She hoped he hadn't gone far and hurried to dress. They had a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. "And maybe we can get some breakfast while we're at it,"

she added aloud as she finished dressing in just her underdress and kirtle.

She stepped outside into the rain and turned her face up to the sky. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes were wrinkled and her teeth could use brushing, but she felt just fine. The cool water on her skin was invig-orating, though she supposed getting soaked through might prove uncomfortable later. She hoped it was drier under the trees as she crossed the clearing.

Even though Bastien had taken her belt from her and draped it over the horse's saddle before he sent it on its way she didn't think she was going to have any trouble finding the outlaw without the sensor tuned to him. She was tuned to Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

him, or at least she felt like she was. She knew this wasn't logical, that the sort of almost telepathic pull she experienced toward him wasn't possible, but she followed her instincts anyway.

Her sense of where he was took her through the undergrowth and scrambling down a stream bank. Her soft leather shoes slipped in the mud but she managed to keep her balance as she reached the edge of the bubbling water. She found Bastien concealed behind a gigantic rotting log on the edge of an iris-filled pool.

He held his bow and an arrow in his hands. His attention was focused on the trees on the far side of the pool. She hesitated for a moment before approaching him, just taking in the sight of him. His hair was tied back with a leather thong and a dark band of beard shadow accentuated the narrow lines of his face. His profile was very much that of the hunting hawk, all dangerous, steely concentration. Even soaked with rain and wearing stained homespun and deerskin he was the most fascinating and handsome man Libby had ever seen.

She had to swallow hard and put a tight rein on kindling desire before she could move toward him again.

He gave her a disgruntled look as she settled down beside him. "I could hear you coming for half a mile. The deer probably could as well."

So, he was waiting here to bag them breakfast. She concentrated on mundane necessity and refused the temptation to run her fingers up the length of his arm.

"Sorry I interrupted you," she whispered. She glanced toward the woods, where the only movement was the dripping of fat raindrops from leaf to leaf. "Deer generally don't come down to water this time of day."

"It's dark and rainy, they might not be so shy on a day like today."

She nodded. "That's true."

His green eyes narrowed beneath the heavy arch of his brows. "And what does a Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

fine lady know of deer stalking?"

She told him the truth. "My father taught me bowhunting."

His expression lightened somewhat. There was a hint of humor in his voice when he asked, "So you poach the king's deer in Wales, do you?"

"Nope. Northern Michigan, we've got a cabin on the Upper Peninsula. And I've never poached, I always have a hunting license."

The woman made no sense. Bastien wasn't surprised by that. What surprised him was the effect she had on him. He'd felt her watching him though he hadn't turned to look, her gaze had been like a caress along his skin, invisible but very real. He'd made himself ignore it and concentrate on the necessities of survival.

His mind was filled with vivid images of what had happened between them, which he tried to ignore, but a part of him was certain she was necessary for his survival. He tried to block such foolish sentiment with the knowledge of how angry he was at himself for using Isabeau. Not at using her beautiful body. Their lovemaking had been a willingly shared experience though he feared she might try to deny that in the light of day. He wouldn't blame her if she did, if that was the defense she used against their growing, impossible feelings toward each other. He was angry for grasping onto the pleasure she'd given him to replace the emptiness inside. At the time he'd thought it was right, now he wasn't so sure.

He'd stiffened inside with tension when she came to stretch out beside him by the old log though he didn't move a muscle to give away his misgivings. He hadn't been able to do more than speak gruffly to her and was grateful she answered in kind even though her words were somehow disturbing.

He concentrated hard to answer her. "Then your father truly must be favored by the king if he has leave to hunt the royal deer."

She got to her knees. Her movement stirred up the scent of the decaying wood Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

and crushed wet leaves. He looked up at her when he should have continued to scan the woods for signs of game. Her dark brown eyes were hidden by half-lowered lids, and there were bright spots of color in her cheeks. "I don't think I want to talk about my father right now," she said.

Bastien gave up the idea of hunting for the moment. He sat up and leaned his back against the log. He continued watching Isabeau. "What do you want to talk about?" It was a dangerous question. It would be better for him if he stayed silent, aloof. He couldn't manage it.

She looked at him, squarely meeting his gaze. "We need to talk about Lilydrake." She crossed her arms under her breasts, bunching the fabric of her dress tightly across her bosom. Her nipples stood out against the wet cloth.

Bastien couldn't help but look. He licked his lips while his hands remembered how those breasts felt, cupped in his palms. Remembering what had happened at Lilydrake was more important, he reminded himself harshly. He made himself meet her gaze again, and nodded as he acknowledged the flicker of humor at where he'd been looking shining in her eyes. "I'm a man. You're a beautiful woman. Some things can't be helped." Her blush deepened, but she didn't look away. "You have no modesty."

"None," she agreed. "Thanks for the compliment."

"It is the truth. Tell me what you know of that day at Lilydrake, Isabeau."

It seemed to be a hard decision for her, but she made it and said, "Very well. Tell me if you remember any of this. There were five people at Lilydrake that day.

Only five. Myself, Joseph, Edward and two others."

"Who were the others?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember their names, and I don't see anything but shadows when I try to remember their faces. But those shadows are getting Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

clearer. There were two men. I think I was involved with one of them."

"Involved? Do you mean married?" The words came out as a jealous snarl that surprised him. He could tell by the way her eyes widened that it surprised her as well. It shouldn't matter to him that she had been married. It should only matter to him that he had been married.

She nodded, very slowly as her tawny skin went sickeningly pale. "I think—

maybe I was. I get all dizzy and disconcerted when I try to think about it."

"I know how you feel."

She rubbed her hands nervously along her upper arms. "You'd think somebody would have mentioned to me that I was married, though, wouldn't you? The trouble is, no one will tell us anything."

"You and Joseph and Edward?" She nodded. He said, "Edward looks familiar to me. When I competed with him at the May Day fair it seemed as though I'd fought with him before. When I saw the boy start to strike you it was as though I had seen something like that happen before. This time I stopped it." Bastien's voice trailed off. He put the bow aside and closed his eyes. Images moved through darkness behind his closed lids while cool rain washed across his upturned face. As always, the images refused to make clear pictures in his mind.

Confusion threatened to overtake him, but Isabeau went on before the pain could start. "I got dizzy the first time I saw you. That should have been a clue, but I didn't make any connection. You see, what happened to us—how do I explain this to someone from the Middle Ages? What happened to make us lose our memories involved a kind of magic. There was a—wizard. Yeah, a wizard." He looked at her when he heard the pleased recognition in her voice. "He's some wizard," she told Bastien with a wide grin. "A physicist, really, but with the stuff this man does there's not much difference between science and magic."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Bastien tilted his head thoughtfully to one side. This talk of magic sounded somehow right, familiar. Hadn't Warin of Flaye once spoken of magic performed at Lilydrake? No. Warin had spoken of the magic more than once, when they'd shared a bottle and got maudlin drunk while Warin tried to get him to throw in his lot with Old Sikes. "What sort of magic?" he asked Isabeau.

She cupped her hands in front of her, as though she might conjure fire out of the raindrops. "He was manipulating time. Trying to make it stretch and bend and do things my father has never managed. A powerful Jedi is my father but—never mind, I get pop culture quotes mixed up with reality sometimes, and this is no time to confuse you more than I already have."