The ride home was thrilling. With few vehicles on the road once they
passed the bridge, Ian was able to open the bike up. Sara was holding
close to him, the faceplate of her helmet resting against his shoulder to
keep the wind resistance down. It was if they could out run anything.
Sara waited in Ian's room for him to return, sitting curled up in a chair by the fire. She had changed while she was waiting; putting back on the robe he had given her earlier, even though it was way too big for her. Ian was out checking the grounds and the security. She had volunteered to go with him, but he said he could do it faster alone, fewer distractions as he smiled and hurried off to his work. So she sat by the fire and thought. Things were going better than expected, with any luck this could all be settled in a few days and they could.what? Where did they go from here? She was a cop and the wielder; and he was, well, Ian. Ex- bodyguard/assassin, new owner of Vorschlag Industries, son of one of the richest men in the world., what did it all mean anyway? None of these things was conducive to peace and a long life. In the past being a cop had always been more than enough to make her leery of relationships, and the 'Blade had not changed that at all. This relationship had enough difficulties without help. But who else would understand? What other man could stand by her as the wielder? Where did that fit in, and how? The one thing she was sure of, having found him, she was unwilling to give him up, certainly not without a fight. Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. She rose, pulling the robe tighter around her, wondering why Ian was knocking at his own door.
She was surprised to find a short, round woman in an apron standing there carrying a tray. She bore some resemblance to the housekeeper, Mrs. Hancock. Sara blushed and gripped the robe tighter. The lady just smiled at her. "Mr. Nottingham wanted me to bring up some tea for you, dear. And since we had not met yet, I decided to bring it up myself."
"I.uh. Please come in," she said at a loss for words.
"I'm the cook, Mrs. Wilson. But just call me Cook, everyone else does." She walked past Sara and set the tray down on the table.
"Thank you, Mrs..uh.Cook. I'm sorry I don't." Sara trailed off not knowing what to say to the friendly little woman.
"Don't worry about it. I just had not had time to welcome you properly, so I decided to do my bit. A little overwhelming isn't it?"
"Yes, I'm just not adjusting too well, I guess." Something about Mrs. Wilson made Sara comfortable, as if she understood.
"Don't worry yourself, you're doing fine. We are all glad to have you here. glad to see him happy. After Mr. Irons death, we didn't know what to do."
"But I don't." She tried to find words to tell her what was going on, to make her understand.
"Shh, takes time is all. If you need anything, you just come down to the kitchen and ask me. I'll set you right, tell you anything I can. Being in the kitchen means I don't have to worry so much about formality.probably a good thing, that. I never was good at keeping my tongue. Now, you drink your tea, he should be up soon." Cook gave her a smile and bustled back out of the room, leaving Sara standing bemused in the middle of the floor, wondering whether it had all been real.
A moment later, Ian walked in the door, pulling ties out of his long hair. He smiled at the picture she made standing there. The sight of her in his robe made him feel warm and a bit possessive. He was determined to keep her with him, no matter what. "Beautiful," he said softly. Sara looked at him, unaware of the thoughts her presence was arousing.
"I just met the most amazing lady." Ian laughed.
"Cook? Yes, she is very.lively. I trust that she made you welcome?"
"Yes, she did. I don't understand why though. Why are they trying to make me comfortable? Don't they know that I am."
"Sara." There was a warning note in his voice. "I told you before that it need never be mentioned again. I meant it. They want you to feel comfortable here because you make me happy. They have known me since I was a child, and I think they were concerned that without Irons around I would." he trailed off, not wanting to bring that thought to words again either, not around Sara. She came over to him and put her arms around him.
"That also needs to never be mentioned again." She gave him a challenging look. "If anything is going to happen to you, be sure that I will have something to say about it. You promised me, remember?" Ian bowed to her, a smile on his face. Her fierceness on his behalf surprised and pleased him in ways he could not quite get into words.
"Yes, My Lady, whatever you wish," he replied, half joking, half deadly serious. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to get a cup of tea.
"What I wish is that you would stop saying things like that. You want a cup of tea?"
"Yes, I would, but let me change." He wandered into the bathroom, gathering his robe on the way. He noted with a bit of internal amusement that Sara's bag was here and had been unpacked. Ian returned a few minutes later, his black robe on, hair loose around his shoulders. Sara had settled back into the chair and Ian took a seat by her feet, next to the fire. She handed him a cup of tea and they sat watching the fire in silence. They were both waiting for something, some sign or signal as to where to go. At that moment Sara's phone rang. She jumped up and went to find it where she had left it on Ian's nightstand.
"Pezzini."
"Sara, you've got your meet. One PP, ten-thirty in the morning, just the four of us." Joe Siri had been busy since the moment he left getting this all arranged. "Oh, and Marie expects the two of you for supper afterwards."
"Uh, let me talk to Ian about that real quick, o.k.? I don't know what the plans are." She covered the phone with her hand. "Ian, Joe's wife wants us to have supper with them after the meet tomorrow. Do you think you're up to it?" Sara gave him a concerned look; unsure whether he was ready for that much in one day.
"I will manage, Sara. It is all part of that normal life, correct?" He answered carefully, trying to hide his fear.
"Something like that," she said as she turned back to the phone. "Yeah, Joe, that's fine. We will see you tomorrow then." She hung up the phone and put it down, returning to sit on the floor next to Ian, who put his arms around her. The real world had intruded on the end of their evening, adding a somber note, but at least they had their answer. Sara leaned into his shoulder.
"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean supper. the other, well..."
"Yes, I am. If we are going to make this work, I need to try to be a part of your world as well. This is the appropriate place to start. You have met my family, now I must face yours." His words were calm but his face was an unreadable mask, as if he were holding all his feelings in, mentally preparing himself for conflict.
"Ian, it's not like you're going into a fight. It's just dinner."
"Armed combat would be much easier," he said. She looked at him, unsure if he were joking or not, and saw that deer in the headlights look in his soft brown eyes. "You will help me?" he inquired pleadingly.
"Yeah, besides, you impressed Joe, Marie should be a piece of cake." They sat looking at the fire for a long moment before Sara turned to him, a wicked grin on her face, a half formed idea taking some interesting routes through her mind. There was more than one way to take his mind of his fears about tomorrow. "Ian, we should probably turn in."
He caught the look on her face and hastened to comply with whatever she had in mind, as always letting her take the lead in such things. He rose and offered her his hand, and turning quickly as she headed towards the bed. He hurried to bank the fire for the night and put out the light, leaving the room in almost total darkness. Sara slipped out of the robe, her body glowing pale in the dying light of the fire. The sight stopped his breath in his throat for a moment. He thought he could spend the rest of his life watching her and never tire of the sight. He moved slowly to join her, dropping his own robe across the foot of the bed as he got in beside her. He reached out for her, but she stopped him, taking his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips. "No.my turn," she told him. "Do you think you could keep yourself out of my head?" she asked him.
"I suppose so," he answered, a little confused and concerned. "But why?" Had the emotional intimacy somehow offended her or frightened her? Certainly she was not showing any signs of reluctance
"I just want to know if it's possible," she told him. "Now lay back." He complied with her request, not entirely sure what she was doing, but trusting her. He took a deep breath and tried to put up the shields in his mind as he had been taught, not an easy task, as she chose that moment to move close to him trailing a hand across his chest, drawing a line down to his belly button and back. She leaned forward and kissed him, teasing his mouth with her own as he reached for her. She shook her head and moved away. "No, it's my turn. Just lay still." Ian heard a strangled moan of frustration and realized it had come from himself. He was trying to concentrate, to keep her mentally at arm's length and now she would not even let him touch her. Years of mental discipline and training, everything that sensei and other experts had taught him had never come close to preparing him for this kind of challenge. He wondered how much his sanity could stand. Ian clutched the sheets with both hands; wanting to touch her so much it was painful. She kissed him, touched him, ran her hands over every inch of him that she could reach and then stretched out against the length of him, letting her whole weight rest against him. She traced his scars with her mouth, kissing here and there.
"Sara." His voice was harsh, heavy with everything he was feeling. She continued, not allowing herself to give in to the longing. She had let him take the lead before, allowing him to explore, accustom himself to the new experiences. Now it was her turn to play. She enjoyed the texture of his skin, the play of muscle under her hands, even the feel of him against her skin. It was electrifying. She had never felt this kind of intimacy with anyone else and she wanted more. He had the most amazing body, soft skin over hard muscle. It was nice to see his response burning in his eyes and know that it was because of her. It was probably not fair to ask him to keep her out but she was afraid that the reaction would be too intense, too soon. She wanted to be able to enjoy the feel of him to her heart's content without letting him overwhelm her.
Ian's eyes were wild. He was struggling against himself, not wanting to move for fear she would stop, afraid to let her keep going. He tried to relax his body, but between her touch and her kisses, much less the pressure of keeping his mind separate, there was no hope. Unable to stop himself, he reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her with a strangled cry as he gave her a hard kiss. He started to move but she pushed back, moving over top of him. His eyes widened as he finally grasped her intention and felt her gentle touch.
Sara sensed his movement before he did and moved to anticipate. She pinned him back down to the bed beneath her and let the two of them slide together. He kissed her, hands that were usually so careful pulling on her hard, dragging her down, kissing and touching. He crushed her tightly against him, and she was not sure how much longer either of them could hold out as the weight of desire came crashing down upon them. Ian's concentration broke and the force of their two minds meeting brought pleasure that was almost painful. Sara lost control of herself and she felt him slip as well. It was like trying to ride a hurricane and when it stopped she was breathless, sweating, still on top of him, incapable of movement or even coherent speech.
As she regained use of her body, Sara tried to move away from him, but Ian still held on to her so tightly, that she could barely breathe. She was pretty sure that she was going to have bruises in the morning, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. It had been well worth it. She was still reeling from the intensity and she was not sure that he was even conscious.
"Hey, Bright Eyes?" she said softly. Ian looked at her, his eyes slowly regaining focus, but his voice still lost somewhere. He loosened his grip on her a little but still not enough for her to move.
"Ssarra," he said, breathlessly. "I." He did not get any further, language still eluding him. She kissed him gently settling her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat return to normal, feeling her own slow in response and drifted off to sleep.
Sara waited in Ian's room for him to return, sitting curled up in a chair by the fire. She had changed while she was waiting; putting back on the robe he had given her earlier, even though it was way too big for her. Ian was out checking the grounds and the security. She had volunteered to go with him, but he said he could do it faster alone, fewer distractions as he smiled and hurried off to his work. So she sat by the fire and thought. Things were going better than expected, with any luck this could all be settled in a few days and they could.what? Where did they go from here? She was a cop and the wielder; and he was, well, Ian. Ex- bodyguard/assassin, new owner of Vorschlag Industries, son of one of the richest men in the world., what did it all mean anyway? None of these things was conducive to peace and a long life. In the past being a cop had always been more than enough to make her leery of relationships, and the 'Blade had not changed that at all. This relationship had enough difficulties without help. But who else would understand? What other man could stand by her as the wielder? Where did that fit in, and how? The one thing she was sure of, having found him, she was unwilling to give him up, certainly not without a fight. Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. She rose, pulling the robe tighter around her, wondering why Ian was knocking at his own door.
She was surprised to find a short, round woman in an apron standing there carrying a tray. She bore some resemblance to the housekeeper, Mrs. Hancock. Sara blushed and gripped the robe tighter. The lady just smiled at her. "Mr. Nottingham wanted me to bring up some tea for you, dear. And since we had not met yet, I decided to bring it up myself."
"I.uh. Please come in," she said at a loss for words.
"I'm the cook, Mrs. Wilson. But just call me Cook, everyone else does." She walked past Sara and set the tray down on the table.
"Thank you, Mrs..uh.Cook. I'm sorry I don't." Sara trailed off not knowing what to say to the friendly little woman.
"Don't worry about it. I just had not had time to welcome you properly, so I decided to do my bit. A little overwhelming isn't it?"
"Yes, I'm just not adjusting too well, I guess." Something about Mrs. Wilson made Sara comfortable, as if she understood.
"Don't worry yourself, you're doing fine. We are all glad to have you here. glad to see him happy. After Mr. Irons death, we didn't know what to do."
"But I don't." She tried to find words to tell her what was going on, to make her understand.
"Shh, takes time is all. If you need anything, you just come down to the kitchen and ask me. I'll set you right, tell you anything I can. Being in the kitchen means I don't have to worry so much about formality.probably a good thing, that. I never was good at keeping my tongue. Now, you drink your tea, he should be up soon." Cook gave her a smile and bustled back out of the room, leaving Sara standing bemused in the middle of the floor, wondering whether it had all been real.
A moment later, Ian walked in the door, pulling ties out of his long hair. He smiled at the picture she made standing there. The sight of her in his robe made him feel warm and a bit possessive. He was determined to keep her with him, no matter what. "Beautiful," he said softly. Sara looked at him, unaware of the thoughts her presence was arousing.
"I just met the most amazing lady." Ian laughed.
"Cook? Yes, she is very.lively. I trust that she made you welcome?"
"Yes, she did. I don't understand why though. Why are they trying to make me comfortable? Don't they know that I am."
"Sara." There was a warning note in his voice. "I told you before that it need never be mentioned again. I meant it. They want you to feel comfortable here because you make me happy. They have known me since I was a child, and I think they were concerned that without Irons around I would." he trailed off, not wanting to bring that thought to words again either, not around Sara. She came over to him and put her arms around him.
"That also needs to never be mentioned again." She gave him a challenging look. "If anything is going to happen to you, be sure that I will have something to say about it. You promised me, remember?" Ian bowed to her, a smile on his face. Her fierceness on his behalf surprised and pleased him in ways he could not quite get into words.
"Yes, My Lady, whatever you wish," he replied, half joking, half deadly serious. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to get a cup of tea.
"What I wish is that you would stop saying things like that. You want a cup of tea?"
"Yes, I would, but let me change." He wandered into the bathroom, gathering his robe on the way. He noted with a bit of internal amusement that Sara's bag was here and had been unpacked. Ian returned a few minutes later, his black robe on, hair loose around his shoulders. Sara had settled back into the chair and Ian took a seat by her feet, next to the fire. She handed him a cup of tea and they sat watching the fire in silence. They were both waiting for something, some sign or signal as to where to go. At that moment Sara's phone rang. She jumped up and went to find it where she had left it on Ian's nightstand.
"Pezzini."
"Sara, you've got your meet. One PP, ten-thirty in the morning, just the four of us." Joe Siri had been busy since the moment he left getting this all arranged. "Oh, and Marie expects the two of you for supper afterwards."
"Uh, let me talk to Ian about that real quick, o.k.? I don't know what the plans are." She covered the phone with her hand. "Ian, Joe's wife wants us to have supper with them after the meet tomorrow. Do you think you're up to it?" Sara gave him a concerned look; unsure whether he was ready for that much in one day.
"I will manage, Sara. It is all part of that normal life, correct?" He answered carefully, trying to hide his fear.
"Something like that," she said as she turned back to the phone. "Yeah, Joe, that's fine. We will see you tomorrow then." She hung up the phone and put it down, returning to sit on the floor next to Ian, who put his arms around her. The real world had intruded on the end of their evening, adding a somber note, but at least they had their answer. Sara leaned into his shoulder.
"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean supper. the other, well..."
"Yes, I am. If we are going to make this work, I need to try to be a part of your world as well. This is the appropriate place to start. You have met my family, now I must face yours." His words were calm but his face was an unreadable mask, as if he were holding all his feelings in, mentally preparing himself for conflict.
"Ian, it's not like you're going into a fight. It's just dinner."
"Armed combat would be much easier," he said. She looked at him, unsure if he were joking or not, and saw that deer in the headlights look in his soft brown eyes. "You will help me?" he inquired pleadingly.
"Yeah, besides, you impressed Joe, Marie should be a piece of cake." They sat looking at the fire for a long moment before Sara turned to him, a wicked grin on her face, a half formed idea taking some interesting routes through her mind. There was more than one way to take his mind of his fears about tomorrow. "Ian, we should probably turn in."
He caught the look on her face and hastened to comply with whatever she had in mind, as always letting her take the lead in such things. He rose and offered her his hand, and turning quickly as she headed towards the bed. He hurried to bank the fire for the night and put out the light, leaving the room in almost total darkness. Sara slipped out of the robe, her body glowing pale in the dying light of the fire. The sight stopped his breath in his throat for a moment. He thought he could spend the rest of his life watching her and never tire of the sight. He moved slowly to join her, dropping his own robe across the foot of the bed as he got in beside her. He reached out for her, but she stopped him, taking his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips. "No.my turn," she told him. "Do you think you could keep yourself out of my head?" she asked him.
"I suppose so," he answered, a little confused and concerned. "But why?" Had the emotional intimacy somehow offended her or frightened her? Certainly she was not showing any signs of reluctance
"I just want to know if it's possible," she told him. "Now lay back." He complied with her request, not entirely sure what she was doing, but trusting her. He took a deep breath and tried to put up the shields in his mind as he had been taught, not an easy task, as she chose that moment to move close to him trailing a hand across his chest, drawing a line down to his belly button and back. She leaned forward and kissed him, teasing his mouth with her own as he reached for her. She shook her head and moved away. "No, it's my turn. Just lay still." Ian heard a strangled moan of frustration and realized it had come from himself. He was trying to concentrate, to keep her mentally at arm's length and now she would not even let him touch her. Years of mental discipline and training, everything that sensei and other experts had taught him had never come close to preparing him for this kind of challenge. He wondered how much his sanity could stand. Ian clutched the sheets with both hands; wanting to touch her so much it was painful. She kissed him, touched him, ran her hands over every inch of him that she could reach and then stretched out against the length of him, letting her whole weight rest against him. She traced his scars with her mouth, kissing here and there.
"Sara." His voice was harsh, heavy with everything he was feeling. She continued, not allowing herself to give in to the longing. She had let him take the lead before, allowing him to explore, accustom himself to the new experiences. Now it was her turn to play. She enjoyed the texture of his skin, the play of muscle under her hands, even the feel of him against her skin. It was electrifying. She had never felt this kind of intimacy with anyone else and she wanted more. He had the most amazing body, soft skin over hard muscle. It was nice to see his response burning in his eyes and know that it was because of her. It was probably not fair to ask him to keep her out but she was afraid that the reaction would be too intense, too soon. She wanted to be able to enjoy the feel of him to her heart's content without letting him overwhelm her.
Ian's eyes were wild. He was struggling against himself, not wanting to move for fear she would stop, afraid to let her keep going. He tried to relax his body, but between her touch and her kisses, much less the pressure of keeping his mind separate, there was no hope. Unable to stop himself, he reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her with a strangled cry as he gave her a hard kiss. He started to move but she pushed back, moving over top of him. His eyes widened as he finally grasped her intention and felt her gentle touch.
Sara sensed his movement before he did and moved to anticipate. She pinned him back down to the bed beneath her and let the two of them slide together. He kissed her, hands that were usually so careful pulling on her hard, dragging her down, kissing and touching. He crushed her tightly against him, and she was not sure how much longer either of them could hold out as the weight of desire came crashing down upon them. Ian's concentration broke and the force of their two minds meeting brought pleasure that was almost painful. Sara lost control of herself and she felt him slip as well. It was like trying to ride a hurricane and when it stopped she was breathless, sweating, still on top of him, incapable of movement or even coherent speech.
As she regained use of her body, Sara tried to move away from him, but Ian still held on to her so tightly, that she could barely breathe. She was pretty sure that she was going to have bruises in the morning, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. It had been well worth it. She was still reeling from the intensity and she was not sure that he was even conscious.
"Hey, Bright Eyes?" she said softly. Ian looked at her, his eyes slowly regaining focus, but his voice still lost somewhere. He loosened his grip on her a little but still not enough for her to move.
"Ssarra," he said, breathlessly. "I." He did not get any further, language still eluding him. She kissed him gently settling her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat return to normal, feeling her own slow in response and drifted off to sleep.