As Tessa waits for Duncan to return to her from yet another challenge, she
faces some of the realities of life and love with an immortal.
Love Waits
Why did the barge always feel so much colder when he was gone? She rubbed at her upper arms with long graceful fingers to fend off the chill that had taken hold of her since he walked out the door. Tessa had tried to distract herself, working on a long neglected piece of sculpture, reading a volume of philosophy which Duncan had recommended. All in vain.
She sipped at the snifter of brandy she had finally given in to in the hopes that the strong liquor would relax her tense muscles. It was helping a little, but she was keenly aware of her heart beating in her breast, as if each beat was counting down the minutes until he would walk through the door and into her arms again. Safe. Whole.
Tessa took a deep breath and closed her eyes, savouring the radiant warmth from the blazing fire in front of her. She reclined back on the leather sofa and stretched long, shapely, jean clad legs out, letting her blonde head fall back onto the soft back of the sofa. The barge rocked gently on the Seine as yet another tour boat passed by. She smiled to herself, recalling the day that Duncan MacLeod burst unceremoniously into her life on one such boat on this same river.
Had it really been thirteen years since that day? She could still picture him in her mind's eye as he looked on that long ago day. Scruffy, unshaven and dressed in jeans, he was as handsome and sexy a man as she had ever laid her beautiful blue eyes on. Not a damned bit different than he looked now, though his hair was much longer. She on the other hand reluctantly observed that she was showing the passage of time a little more than he! Her last birthday had seen her finally surpass his age, a milestone of sorts. He had always been the older man. Tessa had caught up to him and now as the years slipped by, she would leave him behind, young and virile forever. She would age and before long Tessa Noel would look more like his mother than his beautiful young lover. Tessa shook her head and tried to push the thought away, but she knew that some day they would have to face the inevitability of her aging, of her mortality.
Duncan tried to make light of it. He constantly assured her that he didn't care that her beauty would give in to the ravages of time. She would always be beautiful in his eyes and he would love her always, the same way that his clansman, Connor MacLeod, had loved his beautiful Heather and cherished and cared for her until she died a frail, elderly woman. He told Tessa that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, that she was the love of his life.
Tessa wasn't Heather though, and this wasn't the Highlands of Scotland in the 16th Century! How could she expect Duncan to stand by and watch her youth and beauty fade like a wilting flower? And what of their incendiary physical relationship? Duncan was a dynamic lover, a man for whom sex was as necessary as the air he breathed and he made love to her often and with a passion and intensity that never failed to leave her deeply satisfied and in awe of his incredible skills. Should it surprise her that he was the skilled lover he was? He'd been attracting females for 400 years and had bedded more women than he could ever possibly remember!
She sipped at the brandy again to steady her raw nerves. Thinking about Duncan and the many lovers in his past was always a sensitive spot for Tessa. She had come to a reluctant acceptance of it long ago but still, there was a part of her that always felt a jealous pang when it came to mind.
Tessa knew that Duncan loved her more deeply than any of those lovers in his long past. He showed her that daily, in both actions and words. He never stopped making her feel like she was the most precious thing in his life and she believed him with all her heart. But Tessa couldn't help but wonder how long before he would tire of a woman whose body and face were aging and his eyes fall favourably on a woman who was younger and more attractive.
Tessa stood and walked to one of the small windows of the barge and peered out. Her blue eyes scanned the promenade that ran alongside the river, searching through the mist for any sign of the tall, familiar figure, long coat flying gently behind him as he walked. But the promenade was deserted and all she could see were the sprawling shadows cast by the gaslights that lined the path.
She felt the burden of helplessness like a mantle weighing heavily on her shoulders. It always felt this way in the stillness of the night. Like a persistent pain that always hurt more under the cover of darkness.
Tessa recalled their final moments together, earlier that evening. Duncan had spent the hours leading up to it in the usual way he did when he knew he was facing a showdown. Performing an energetic kata which sharpened his reflexes and limbered up his muscles and indulging in quiet meditation to prepare his soul and spirit for what lay ahead.
"Duncan. Can you take this immortal you're facing?" She asked him, hoping that her casual tone belied the dark clouds of concern and worry that were closing in on her as they always did before he left her to face another immortal.
He took her in his arms and held her close, giving her that beautiful smile that always made her heart soar. "I believe I can Tess." He brushed a stray lock of blonde hair from her cheek. "Don't worry. I promise you that tomorrow morning we'll wake up together in that bed and you'll make me bad coffee like you always do on Saturday mornings!" He tried to be light and joking in tone and it brought a momentary smile to her lips.
She snarled at him and playfully punched his shoulder. "You love my coffee Duncan MacLeod and you know it!"
He was laughing as he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love everything about you Tess, even your coffee!"
He checked his watch. "But I have to go now sweetheart." He gently released her and pulled on his long coat, checking to see that the Katana was patiently waiting inside it's folds. Duncan took her hand and walked to the stairs.
"Duncan." She was in his arms again, pressing her body against his, savoring these final moments with him just in case.... "Be careful." She looked into his brown eyes and then kissed his cheek.
"Always." He whispered softly. Then turned and ascended the stairs. Opening the door with that one last glance back at her, blinking slowly and smiling tenderly and he was gone into the blackness of the Paris night.
Would she ever get used to the game, suddenly and rudely insinuating itself into the peace and tranquility of their lives? God, how she resented it. It had taken her time to come to terms with it. To accept the inevitable intrusion of other immortals who challenged Duncan, usually for no other reason than to move themselves one soul closer to being that final one. Not that he didn't have enemies who caught up with him from time to time, but the majority of challenges came from men or women driven by a desire to eliminate one more of their kind from the game.
But those who made a challenge to Duncan MacLeod sealed their own fate. He wanted to live in peace, but he and his well tended Katana were always ready for them and his very existence proved that he was always the strongest, the most capable of the endless parade of immortals who sought him out for his vital quickening.
Sometimes she wondered how on earth he could have maintained his sanity, living with the burden of immortality. Watching friends and lovers die and knowing that he was helpless to do anything about it. Endlessly drawn into the constant battle to keep his beautiful head on those shoulders.
She cast her memory back to the day a year ago when Connor MacLeod resurfaced in Duncan's life after a long absence. It was when she learned that Duncan had left out some of the most important details concerning the rules of this puzzling game of immortality and they had argued bitterly about it. He was trying to protect her, he said. Trying to shield her from the harsh realities of the life he led, thinking that she'd be safer if she didn't know. But she had to know and decide if she could live her life under this strange set of circumstances. She thought about walking away, thinking that perhaps the last thing Duncan needed to distract him from his own self preservation was a vulnerable mortal lover who could be used against him. The truth was she couldn't visualize her life without him. She loved him and that love was so all consuming and strong that walking away from it was never an option. She hadn't spent a second regretting that decision. Life without Duncan was just not something she ever cared to face.
He had tried to leave her after the confrontation with Slan Quince, prepared to sacrifice his deep love for Tessa for her safety and well being. Seeing Tessa threatened by the callous, bloodthirsty immortal brought home to him the startling realization that Tessa was innocent and yet could be used as a pawn in this deadly game he was forced to play. He didn't return after the battle. But with Connor's help Tessa had found him trying to ease his pain through meditation at his cabin on holy ground. She could still see the relief on his face when he saw her and feel the joy they both experienced at being reunited. Their lovemaking that night, alone together in the rustic mountain retreat was as passionate as it had ever been and they vowed that they would never let his immortality threaten their bonds again. They would stand together and face whatever it brought them.
And now here she was yet again. Waiting. Hoping. Praying that he would soon return to her. Deep in her heart she knew he would. He always did. She had endless faith and confidence in his ability to emerge victorious from each and every challenge. But what if this time he had met his match? What if there was an immortal who had the edge on him? It could happen. She simply had to face that reality and be prepared for the dreaded outcome. He was strong and determined, but what if it was his time? What if he just didn't quite have that fire in him on this particular night that would mean the difference between eternal life and sudden death? She shook her head and silently rejected the thoughts.
Tessa took a deep drink of the brandy and felt it burn as it slid down her throat. She had to think positive thoughts. She had to believe in Duncan's victory. It was really all she had to hold onto on nights such as this one. Faith.
She could still feel and taste the warm kisses he had placed on her lips earlier, wrapping her in his powerful arms as he assured her that he would return to her soon. It was never easy letting him go. Watching him walk with resignation up the stairs and turn to look back at her before he opened the door. He always gave her that sweet, tender smile and looked at her with such an abundance of love in his beautiful dark eyes.
She was determined never to appear weak to him. Not to distract him from his all important focus on the battle that lie ahead. She never cried or asked him not to go. Tessa always wanted to send her warrior into battle with her support, with her favour, hoping that it would bolster his strength and determination. But in these quiet solitary moments, left behind, waiting, she had to deal with her demons. They were real and they were relentless. They begged for her attention.
She wondered sometime what her life might have been like if fate hadn't guided Duncan into her life that day. Where would she be? Would she be married, have a family perhaps?
A family. It was the point that caused Duncan the most pain, wondering if he was compromising Tessa by taking motherhood out of her reach. She assured him that she had what she wanted. That it was more than enough. She meant it with all her heart, but there were times when she fantasized about what it would be like to hold her own child in her arms. She ached to have only one child. A son. The son of Duncan MacLeod, but she knew that it was never to be, that his immortality prevented his ever fathering a child. If only he could have given her a baby. She loved to imagine how beautiful his baby would be. Dark haired and dark eyed like his father, growing up to be strong, tall and proud like Duncan. What an incredible father he would be to a child, endowing him with the benefit of all his years of experience both spiritually and in the practical sense. She dismissed the thought, knowing that it only left her feeling bereft and empty. Tessa was well aware that Duncan felt the same emptiness. He had long ago come to terms with his sterility. He had to. It was one of the saddest and most painful aspects of immortality. She felt tears forming in her eyes. They always did when she let her thoughts wander to the image of herself, holding a laughing sturdy dark haired little boy in her arms while Duncan looked on proudly at his wife and son.
Tessa stood up, banishing the image from her weary mind and began to pace the barge. She was feeling edgy, beginning to lose her composure and her nerves felt drawn to a taut thread. She pulled her fingers through her mane of blonde curls, brushed the hot tears from her cheeks and looked at the clock again. It hadn't really been that long, but when she waited for Duncan on just such a night, worrying and letting her imagination carry her to places she didn't wish to go, a few minutes could seem like an eternity.
She walked up the few steps to the large bed that they shared, with its backdrop tapestry of angels which watched over them as they slept. She sat down on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes and stretched out, pulling the comforter over her. Turning her head on Duncan's pillow, his clean unique scent reached her nose and she hugged the pillow close, his scent making her feel as though he were here in the bed with her, holding her close to him. The barge was so quiet and still save for the gentle motion of the water. The only sound she could hear was the faint sound of the beating of her heart. It was then that she sensed him near.
She may not be capable of sensing the quickening of an approaching immortal, but somehow she did sense when Duncan was nearby. It was just a feeling, perhaps a result of the mental and physical connection between them.
Tessa slipped out of the warmth of their bed and walked silently toward the stairs where she stood motionless, her breath held and azure eyes wide as she stared hopefully at the door, willing it to open. The knob turned and the door swung open.
He stepped into the room and came to a halt in the open door when he saw her. Their eyes met and held. His hair, which had been carefully pulled back sleekly into it's classic tail when he left a couple of hours ago was now loose, falling around his strong neck in dark curls. The grey shirt he wore beneath his long coat was slashed across his chest and stained with his blood, all visible signs of the wound long receded into fresh, healthy skin. His handsome face bore the serious, haunted look it always did after he had killed, his eyes sad and vulnerable, regret and pain evident in their brown depths. He wasn't a killer, despite the stoic resignation to do what was necessary when he found himself once again in the grip of the ever present game.
"Duncan!" Tessa rushed forward, closing the space between them as he descended the stairs and she melted into his strong embrace. She felt relief rush over her like a tidal wave, warm and comforting.
"Tess." He whispered softly as he traced her features with strong fingers, his brown eyes looking into her's and finding pure love there. He drew his thumb across her parted lips, and she felt the warmth of his mouth as it found her's.
Her victorious warrior had come home.
THE END
Love Waits
Why did the barge always feel so much colder when he was gone? She rubbed at her upper arms with long graceful fingers to fend off the chill that had taken hold of her since he walked out the door. Tessa had tried to distract herself, working on a long neglected piece of sculpture, reading a volume of philosophy which Duncan had recommended. All in vain.
She sipped at the snifter of brandy she had finally given in to in the hopes that the strong liquor would relax her tense muscles. It was helping a little, but she was keenly aware of her heart beating in her breast, as if each beat was counting down the minutes until he would walk through the door and into her arms again. Safe. Whole.
Tessa took a deep breath and closed her eyes, savouring the radiant warmth from the blazing fire in front of her. She reclined back on the leather sofa and stretched long, shapely, jean clad legs out, letting her blonde head fall back onto the soft back of the sofa. The barge rocked gently on the Seine as yet another tour boat passed by. She smiled to herself, recalling the day that Duncan MacLeod burst unceremoniously into her life on one such boat on this same river.
Had it really been thirteen years since that day? She could still picture him in her mind's eye as he looked on that long ago day. Scruffy, unshaven and dressed in jeans, he was as handsome and sexy a man as she had ever laid her beautiful blue eyes on. Not a damned bit different than he looked now, though his hair was much longer. She on the other hand reluctantly observed that she was showing the passage of time a little more than he! Her last birthday had seen her finally surpass his age, a milestone of sorts. He had always been the older man. Tessa had caught up to him and now as the years slipped by, she would leave him behind, young and virile forever. She would age and before long Tessa Noel would look more like his mother than his beautiful young lover. Tessa shook her head and tried to push the thought away, but she knew that some day they would have to face the inevitability of her aging, of her mortality.
Duncan tried to make light of it. He constantly assured her that he didn't care that her beauty would give in to the ravages of time. She would always be beautiful in his eyes and he would love her always, the same way that his clansman, Connor MacLeod, had loved his beautiful Heather and cherished and cared for her until she died a frail, elderly woman. He told Tessa that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, that she was the love of his life.
Tessa wasn't Heather though, and this wasn't the Highlands of Scotland in the 16th Century! How could she expect Duncan to stand by and watch her youth and beauty fade like a wilting flower? And what of their incendiary physical relationship? Duncan was a dynamic lover, a man for whom sex was as necessary as the air he breathed and he made love to her often and with a passion and intensity that never failed to leave her deeply satisfied and in awe of his incredible skills. Should it surprise her that he was the skilled lover he was? He'd been attracting females for 400 years and had bedded more women than he could ever possibly remember!
She sipped at the brandy again to steady her raw nerves. Thinking about Duncan and the many lovers in his past was always a sensitive spot for Tessa. She had come to a reluctant acceptance of it long ago but still, there was a part of her that always felt a jealous pang when it came to mind.
Tessa knew that Duncan loved her more deeply than any of those lovers in his long past. He showed her that daily, in both actions and words. He never stopped making her feel like she was the most precious thing in his life and she believed him with all her heart. But Tessa couldn't help but wonder how long before he would tire of a woman whose body and face were aging and his eyes fall favourably on a woman who was younger and more attractive.
Tessa stood and walked to one of the small windows of the barge and peered out. Her blue eyes scanned the promenade that ran alongside the river, searching through the mist for any sign of the tall, familiar figure, long coat flying gently behind him as he walked. But the promenade was deserted and all she could see were the sprawling shadows cast by the gaslights that lined the path.
She felt the burden of helplessness like a mantle weighing heavily on her shoulders. It always felt this way in the stillness of the night. Like a persistent pain that always hurt more under the cover of darkness.
Tessa recalled their final moments together, earlier that evening. Duncan had spent the hours leading up to it in the usual way he did when he knew he was facing a showdown. Performing an energetic kata which sharpened his reflexes and limbered up his muscles and indulging in quiet meditation to prepare his soul and spirit for what lay ahead.
"Duncan. Can you take this immortal you're facing?" She asked him, hoping that her casual tone belied the dark clouds of concern and worry that were closing in on her as they always did before he left her to face another immortal.
He took her in his arms and held her close, giving her that beautiful smile that always made her heart soar. "I believe I can Tess." He brushed a stray lock of blonde hair from her cheek. "Don't worry. I promise you that tomorrow morning we'll wake up together in that bed and you'll make me bad coffee like you always do on Saturday mornings!" He tried to be light and joking in tone and it brought a momentary smile to her lips.
She snarled at him and playfully punched his shoulder. "You love my coffee Duncan MacLeod and you know it!"
He was laughing as he dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love everything about you Tess, even your coffee!"
He checked his watch. "But I have to go now sweetheart." He gently released her and pulled on his long coat, checking to see that the Katana was patiently waiting inside it's folds. Duncan took her hand and walked to the stairs.
"Duncan." She was in his arms again, pressing her body against his, savoring these final moments with him just in case.... "Be careful." She looked into his brown eyes and then kissed his cheek.
"Always." He whispered softly. Then turned and ascended the stairs. Opening the door with that one last glance back at her, blinking slowly and smiling tenderly and he was gone into the blackness of the Paris night.
Would she ever get used to the game, suddenly and rudely insinuating itself into the peace and tranquility of their lives? God, how she resented it. It had taken her time to come to terms with it. To accept the inevitable intrusion of other immortals who challenged Duncan, usually for no other reason than to move themselves one soul closer to being that final one. Not that he didn't have enemies who caught up with him from time to time, but the majority of challenges came from men or women driven by a desire to eliminate one more of their kind from the game.
But those who made a challenge to Duncan MacLeod sealed their own fate. He wanted to live in peace, but he and his well tended Katana were always ready for them and his very existence proved that he was always the strongest, the most capable of the endless parade of immortals who sought him out for his vital quickening.
Sometimes she wondered how on earth he could have maintained his sanity, living with the burden of immortality. Watching friends and lovers die and knowing that he was helpless to do anything about it. Endlessly drawn into the constant battle to keep his beautiful head on those shoulders.
She cast her memory back to the day a year ago when Connor MacLeod resurfaced in Duncan's life after a long absence. It was when she learned that Duncan had left out some of the most important details concerning the rules of this puzzling game of immortality and they had argued bitterly about it. He was trying to protect her, he said. Trying to shield her from the harsh realities of the life he led, thinking that she'd be safer if she didn't know. But she had to know and decide if she could live her life under this strange set of circumstances. She thought about walking away, thinking that perhaps the last thing Duncan needed to distract him from his own self preservation was a vulnerable mortal lover who could be used against him. The truth was she couldn't visualize her life without him. She loved him and that love was so all consuming and strong that walking away from it was never an option. She hadn't spent a second regretting that decision. Life without Duncan was just not something she ever cared to face.
He had tried to leave her after the confrontation with Slan Quince, prepared to sacrifice his deep love for Tessa for her safety and well being. Seeing Tessa threatened by the callous, bloodthirsty immortal brought home to him the startling realization that Tessa was innocent and yet could be used as a pawn in this deadly game he was forced to play. He didn't return after the battle. But with Connor's help Tessa had found him trying to ease his pain through meditation at his cabin on holy ground. She could still see the relief on his face when he saw her and feel the joy they both experienced at being reunited. Their lovemaking that night, alone together in the rustic mountain retreat was as passionate as it had ever been and they vowed that they would never let his immortality threaten their bonds again. They would stand together and face whatever it brought them.
And now here she was yet again. Waiting. Hoping. Praying that he would soon return to her. Deep in her heart she knew he would. He always did. She had endless faith and confidence in his ability to emerge victorious from each and every challenge. But what if this time he had met his match? What if there was an immortal who had the edge on him? It could happen. She simply had to face that reality and be prepared for the dreaded outcome. He was strong and determined, but what if it was his time? What if he just didn't quite have that fire in him on this particular night that would mean the difference between eternal life and sudden death? She shook her head and silently rejected the thoughts.
Tessa took a deep drink of the brandy and felt it burn as it slid down her throat. She had to think positive thoughts. She had to believe in Duncan's victory. It was really all she had to hold onto on nights such as this one. Faith.
She could still feel and taste the warm kisses he had placed on her lips earlier, wrapping her in his powerful arms as he assured her that he would return to her soon. It was never easy letting him go. Watching him walk with resignation up the stairs and turn to look back at her before he opened the door. He always gave her that sweet, tender smile and looked at her with such an abundance of love in his beautiful dark eyes.
She was determined never to appear weak to him. Not to distract him from his all important focus on the battle that lie ahead. She never cried or asked him not to go. Tessa always wanted to send her warrior into battle with her support, with her favour, hoping that it would bolster his strength and determination. But in these quiet solitary moments, left behind, waiting, she had to deal with her demons. They were real and they were relentless. They begged for her attention.
She wondered sometime what her life might have been like if fate hadn't guided Duncan into her life that day. Where would she be? Would she be married, have a family perhaps?
A family. It was the point that caused Duncan the most pain, wondering if he was compromising Tessa by taking motherhood out of her reach. She assured him that she had what she wanted. That it was more than enough. She meant it with all her heart, but there were times when she fantasized about what it would be like to hold her own child in her arms. She ached to have only one child. A son. The son of Duncan MacLeod, but she knew that it was never to be, that his immortality prevented his ever fathering a child. If only he could have given her a baby. She loved to imagine how beautiful his baby would be. Dark haired and dark eyed like his father, growing up to be strong, tall and proud like Duncan. What an incredible father he would be to a child, endowing him with the benefit of all his years of experience both spiritually and in the practical sense. She dismissed the thought, knowing that it only left her feeling bereft and empty. Tessa was well aware that Duncan felt the same emptiness. He had long ago come to terms with his sterility. He had to. It was one of the saddest and most painful aspects of immortality. She felt tears forming in her eyes. They always did when she let her thoughts wander to the image of herself, holding a laughing sturdy dark haired little boy in her arms while Duncan looked on proudly at his wife and son.
Tessa stood up, banishing the image from her weary mind and began to pace the barge. She was feeling edgy, beginning to lose her composure and her nerves felt drawn to a taut thread. She pulled her fingers through her mane of blonde curls, brushed the hot tears from her cheeks and looked at the clock again. It hadn't really been that long, but when she waited for Duncan on just such a night, worrying and letting her imagination carry her to places she didn't wish to go, a few minutes could seem like an eternity.
She walked up the few steps to the large bed that they shared, with its backdrop tapestry of angels which watched over them as they slept. She sat down on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes and stretched out, pulling the comforter over her. Turning her head on Duncan's pillow, his clean unique scent reached her nose and she hugged the pillow close, his scent making her feel as though he were here in the bed with her, holding her close to him. The barge was so quiet and still save for the gentle motion of the water. The only sound she could hear was the faint sound of the beating of her heart. It was then that she sensed him near.
She may not be capable of sensing the quickening of an approaching immortal, but somehow she did sense when Duncan was nearby. It was just a feeling, perhaps a result of the mental and physical connection between them.
Tessa slipped out of the warmth of their bed and walked silently toward the stairs where she stood motionless, her breath held and azure eyes wide as she stared hopefully at the door, willing it to open. The knob turned and the door swung open.
He stepped into the room and came to a halt in the open door when he saw her. Their eyes met and held. His hair, which had been carefully pulled back sleekly into it's classic tail when he left a couple of hours ago was now loose, falling around his strong neck in dark curls. The grey shirt he wore beneath his long coat was slashed across his chest and stained with his blood, all visible signs of the wound long receded into fresh, healthy skin. His handsome face bore the serious, haunted look it always did after he had killed, his eyes sad and vulnerable, regret and pain evident in their brown depths. He wasn't a killer, despite the stoic resignation to do what was necessary when he found himself once again in the grip of the ever present game.
"Duncan!" Tessa rushed forward, closing the space between them as he descended the stairs and she melted into his strong embrace. She felt relief rush over her like a tidal wave, warm and comforting.
"Tess." He whispered softly as he traced her features with strong fingers, his brown eyes looking into her's and finding pure love there. He drew his thumb across her parted lips, and she felt the warmth of his mouth as it found her's.
Her victorious warrior had come home.
THE END