Shelter from the Storm Chapter 14

All standard disclaimers apply. This story is mine, as are the characters of Leyza Berard, Ray Garcia, Phillippe and Marie Vachon, Francine, Solange Laperrier and Jeremy Cole. Please do not borrow them without asking.

The Highlander concepts and the characters of Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson and May Ling Shen are not. They belong to Gregory Widen, Davis/Panzer, Rysher, Gaumont and probably a few others I've forgotten. I've dared to use them without permission, and hope they'll forgive the transgression, because this story is merely a labor of love. I'm not making a cent from it.


He was a tiny little man, who stood about a foot shorter than she did, with grey hair, a thin grey mustache and lively blue eyes. Though he clearly wasn't Immortal and appeared harmless enough, Leyza opened the door cautiously.

As he tugged off his brown tweed cap, he smiled. His blue eyes sparkled with a natural joy, and his mustache twitched, giving him a comic air. "Are you Mademoiselle Berard?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, smiling as she looked down at him.

"I am Jacques Duval," he said, holding out a single, long-stemmed, pink rose. "Monsieur MacLeod asked me to pick you up in my cab. He said to tell you that he's been unavoidably detained, and that he sends his apologies."

Leyza couldn't resist lifting the fragrant flower to her nose. She inhaled its sweet scent as she tried to still the sudden jump in her heartbeat. The words, unavoidably detained tended to take on an ominous significance when you were Immortal.

"Thank you," she said, when she could manage to smile again. "I'll just get my coat."

Once more, Francine was standing right behind her. Frowning, she leaned over to peer around, Leyza. "That's not Duncan," she whispered.

"Your powers of observation are astounding," Leyza said, laughing as she took her coat - and her sword from Francine.

"But--" Francine started. Leyza shut down her protest with a toss of her head.

"Don't worry about me ... and don't wait up," she said, then seeing the concern that filled the young woman's eyes, she kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be fine."

She knew that Francine would indeed worry until she returned home, but it couldn't be helped, for she had no intentions of staying home. She just hoped her ward wouldn't lose too much sleep over it, and she hoped that Duncan had been detained by some ordinary problem like a flat tire.

* * * * *

As Jacques Duval guided his cab through the streets of Paris, Leyza stared out the window and pondered the possibilities. What could have kept Duncan from coming himself? And why hadn't he just called? No sense fretting about the unknown, she cautioned herself, but still she couldn't dismiss her concerns.

When Jacques turned his cab onto the Quai de la Tournelle, those concerns shifted into a new compartment. She'd been so focused on Duncan's whereabouts, she hadn't given much thought to the fact that she'd foolishly placed herself in the care of a perfect stranger. Where was he taking her? She was about to ask him when he stopped beside the long dark shape of a barge anchored at the quay.

"Here we are," he said, turning to her with a smile, then he climbed out of the cab and opened the back door.

Leyza frowned as she considered the barge. It seemed well-kept, and soft light shimmered through the bare windows of the central cabin, but no one moved on deck. And no Immortal presence tickled her senses ... not yet anyway.

"Just where exactly is here?" she asked.

Jacques looked puzzled for a moment. "Why the Quai de la Tournelle, of course," he answered. When Leyza continued to look at him with a questioning frown, he added, "Monsieur MacLeod lives there ... on the barge. But I thought you knew."

Leyza laughed. "No, actually I didn't ... he never mentioned it."

Mulling over the vast number of things she didn't know about Duncan MacLeod, she stepped out of the cab, then reached for the small purse that swung from her shoulder on a long skinny strap.

"No, no, Mademoiselle," Jacques protested with a wave of his hand. "Monsieur MacLeod has taken care of everything. Please ... enjoy your dinner." With that the cab driver climbed back into his car, then drove off leaving her alone on the quay.

What is Duncan up to, she wondered, as she set her foot on the gangway. But she didn't have time to ponder it further because she was suddenly surrounded by a strong Immortal signal, then Duncan appeared at the far side of the barge.

Wearing soft black trousers and a white silk shirt that appeared to glow with ethereal light against the darkness, he strode across to meet her. An unexpected flutter of unease shook her confidence, and for a very brief moment Leyza wished they had left things as they were when they were meeting on the bridge. Romance and the possibility of physical intimacy could add complications to their relationship that she wasn't sure she wanted to face right now.

"Welcome to Chez MacLeod," he said with a smile, then he motioned her on board with a sweeping bow and a very credible maitre d' imitation.

As Duncan watched Leyza walk up the gangway toward him - watched the breeze tease gossamer wisps from her upswept hair - watched her lips curve into a smile of amusement - 400 years of experience deserted him.

Suddenly, he was a fourteen year old boy again watching Debra Campbell stroll across the green in Glenfinnan. Wiping the moisture from his palms on the side of his trousers, he took a deep breath, then held his hand out to help her over the gunwale.

"Well, thanks ... I think," Leyza said, laughing. "What's this all about? When I found Jacques at my door instead of you, I was worried that you'd met some headhunter or an old enemy with a grudge."

Taking her arm, he took control of his emotions at the same time. "Sorry about that," he said. "I thought I'd make dinner tonight. I enjoy cooking, and I haven't been doing much of it lately."

He stopped, then regarded her with a mischievous grin. "And what did you think I was doing for the three days you vanished without a word?"

"Ouch," she said, tipping her chin to her chest. "I guess, I had that coming."

Leyza looked up again, then allowed her gaze to meet his. The genuine concern vying with the spark of amusement in Duncan's eyes touched her deeply, and she wished she could take back any distress she'd caused him. "I'm sorry, too," she said, stroking his cheek. "I never thought you'd worry about me."

"Well, I did," he said, touching his forehead to hers, then he turned, settled her hand on his arm and guided her down the companionway.

"I didn't picture you living on a barge," Leyza said as he ushered her through the door, then down a short flight of steps.

"Something wrong with living on a barge?"

"Not at all," she answered, with a laugh. "Actually, I think it's a grand idea ... right next door to my friend the river ... I don't know why I never thought of it myself."

Duncan moved behind her, then placed his hands on her shoulders. "Here," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "Let me take your coat."

She let him slide the coat off her shoulders. "I think I'm a little over dressed," she said, with a nervous twitter.

"Nonsense," he replied. Surrendering to an irresistible impulse, he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. "You look wonderful." As he tucked another tender kiss just below her ear, he nearly lost himself in the heady scent she wore. "And you smell wonderful too," he added in a hoarse whisper.

With great reluctance, he draped her coat over his arm, then forced himself to turn away before he suggested that they forget about dinner. "What's that perfume you're wearing?" he asked as he hung up her coat.

Leyza took a few steps into the room. "Givenchy," she called over her shoulder. "L'Interdit - it's my favorite."

He loped down the stairs, then moved behind a bar built into the corner. "It's very nice," he said, with a smile. He plucked a cool green bottle out of a bucket of ice, then held a corkscrew over it. "Would you like some wine?"

"Yes, I would, thanks," she replied, stepping up to join him at the bar.

As Leyza reached out to take the glass of white wine Duncan handed her, their fingers touched - just a brief brush of warm skin against warm skin, but the contact flared like the strike of a match.

Her hand trembled, and the wine sloshed around in the glass. A single drop made it over the rim and slithered down the outside. She caught it on her finger, then slipped the finger into her mouth.

That simple innocent gesture triggered a not so innocent reaction in Duncan. He forced himself to ignore the tingling rush of desire and focused on his own glass while he filled it with pale gold wine. But the teenage boy he'd become when Leyza first arrived couldn't resist the opportunity to tease. "Nervous," he asked with a playful grin as he found the composure to look at her again.

Leyza didn't meet his gaze as she shrugged. "A little," she said, muffling a soft laugh with the back of her hand. "I haven't done this in awhile ... I guess I'm out of practice."

Leaning against the wall behind the bar, Duncan buried one restless hand in his pocket, then he gripped the glass with the other one. "Don't worry," he said, watching an attractive flush stain her cheeks. "I won't bite." That comment wasn't likely to put either of them at ease, but he couldn't resist.

Leyza lifted her head slowly, then she raised one eyebrow and ran her tongue across her upper lip. "Pity," she said in a steady, yet sultry voice, then she turned away before he could comment. If Duncan wanted to tease, she could play that game as well as he could. Her flirting skills might be a little rusty, from disuse, but she had centuries of practice to fall back on.

As she took a deep breath and a large gulp of wine, Leyza glanced around the room. She needed to look at anything right now ... anything but Duncan MacLeod. She had to regain some of her poise before she could even think about looking at him again. At the moment, looking at his home was far safer.

The living area of his barge was a nice open space on two levels, and though the flickering light of nearly two dozen candles bathed it with a romantic glow, it was as bare as a monk's cell. Except for the bar, a fireplace, a low table surrounded by cushions, a few trunks, a bookshelf, a platform bed, and an exquisite mandala, there wasn't much else to speak of.

"Interesting place you have here," she said using her elbows for props as she leaned back against the bar. "But I see you take the minimalist approach to decorating quite seriously." Feeling her confidence return, she turned her head to grin at him.

He responded with a weak smile, but then he quickly ducked his head and began to fuss with something below the level of the bar. "I got a little carried away with my spring cleaning," he mumbled.

She turned completely around to study him better - to analyze the sudden feeling that she'd made him uncomfortable about something - but she was too late. He already had his back to her.

"He cooks, he cleans," she said in a teasing tone. "You're a man of amazing talents, Duncan MacLeod."

"That's me," he said with an impish grin when he spun back to face her again.

In his hand, Duncan held a plate covered with stuffed portabello mushroom caps which he'd cut into wedges. He picked one up between his thumb and his forefinger, then held it out to her.

Leyza lifted one eyebrow at the casual breach of etiquette, but she couldn't resist his roguish smile. Resting her forearms on the bar, she leaned forward to let him put the mushroom wedge in her mouth, then she captured his fingers between her lips for a flicker of a second.

Their eyes met and held as he withdrew his hand. In an intimate gesture that sent incendiary pulses racing through her body, Duncan licked the mushroom juice and the moisture of her mouth from his fingertips.

The sensual diversion was all over in less than a minute, but it left Leyza breathless as she watched him slide the plate onto the bar. He kept his head lowered, so she couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell if it had affected him the way it had affected her. She waited a few seconds for him to look at her again, but he seemed preoccupied with his dinner preparations.

With a small sigh Leyza helped herself to another slice of mushroom, then she strolled across the room to examine the mandala that had drawn her attention earlier.

"This mandala is just magnificent," she said. "Did you get it in Tibet?"

"Malaysia," he answered. "I ... ah, spent some time there recently."

"I've been to Kuala Lumpur," she said. "But it was a long time ago. As I recall, it was a very interesting city."

Bringing Leyza to the barge had been a mistake, Duncan thought as he broke off pieces of romaine for the Caesar salad. There were too many shadows, too many ghosts, too many things for her to question. With his heart pounding in his chest, he couldn't think fast enough to divert this treacherous conversation.

"I spent most of my time in a monastery in the hills," he said, blurting out the truth in a rush. "I ... didn't get to see much of the city."

"Ah, Holy Ground," Leyza said, laughing softly. She narrowed her eyes and studied the top of Duncan's head as she strolled back to the bar side of the room. He's run to ground on me again, she thought, wondering what it was that troubled him so.

She set her wine glass down, then considered the plate of mushrooms for a moment before deciding against eating another. "I've done more than one tour of that duty. One time I spent nearly 6 months in a convent - and that's about as long as I can live the contemplative life ... sometimes too much time to think about a situation hurts rather than helps."

Duncan lifted his head, then took a sip of wine. His soft brown eyes darkened to deep sable pools as he watched her for a moment, then he lifted one shoulder in a lackadaisical shrug.

"Sometimes," he said, rounding the bar, then he crossed the room to set the salad bowl on the table.

Leyza reconsidered the plate of mushrooms. She selected a piece, then nibbled one end. When Duncan returned to her side, she offered the rest to him. "My life has been too close to a nun's lately ... way too close," she said, with her most beguiling smile.

Duncan's eyes twinkled with a responsive light as he opened his mouth to take her offering, then echoing her action, he closed his lips on her fingers. He teased the tips of them with his tongue, and the warm wet texture of it nearly melted what little control Leyza had left. She leaned in to kiss him, but he moved away before their lips met.

"Dinner's almost ready," he said, breaking the spell, then he returned to the far side of the bar. It stood like a solid safety barrier between them.

With trembling hands, Duncan spilled strands of angel hair pasta onto two plates, then he spooned bright-colored vegetables and a light sauce over the top.

Leyza was intelligent, beautiful and provocative. He wanted her - wanted her now, lying beneath him naked and breathless with passion. It was quite clear that she shared his desires, but making love to her could break down those glass walls that surrounded him - glass walls he still needed for some nettling reason he couldn't pin down. Though the wounds to his spirit had begun to heal, they were still too raw to bear close examination - and he had no doubt she would examine them if he gave her the slightest opportunity.

"I hope you like pasta primavera ... I haven't been eating much meat lately," he said, letting another admission slip out. Shut up, MacLeod, he scolded himself. Let her do all the talking.

"I love pasta," Leyza said, crossing the room to the bookshelf that also held part of his large collection of CD's. "The music's stopped ... do you mind if I pick something out?"

"Be my guest," he answered, then he popped a bit of broccoli into his mouth, hoping food might prevent him from revealing any more troublesome information. At least the conversation had drifted onto a safer topic. He could handle a discussion of musical tastes.

The first stacker Leyza checked through held nothing but opera. Well, that's one thing we don't have in common, she thought with a grin. She hated opera. Setting aside a few interesting selections for later, she chose a disk of Chopin preludes, then slid it into the CD player.

"Dinner is served, Madame," Duncan said from behind her.