Skywalker's Legacy, page 67

Chapter Eleven

"So that's Lucy," Han said, as they skimmed towards Mos Eisley in Luke's speeder. "Takes after her mother in every respect---especially the hard-headedness department."

Luke laughed, keeping his eyes on the terrain ahead as he drove. "I imagine Leia would probably say she takes after you in that regard."

"Oh, she does," Han told him. "Leia, I mean. But it ain't true. Lucy's the spitting image of her."

"Well," Luke said, "You've told me about Poul, you've told me about Lucy. What about Rupert?"

"Rupert?" Han said hesitantly. "He's a...great kid."

"You don't sound too sure about that."

"No, I mean it. He really is a great kid. If anything, he's a little too serious. He never lies or swears---he hasn't even developed an interest in girls yet."

"In other words," Luke said, glancing over at his friend with a smile, "he's the exact opposite of you."

Han chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Except that he's a Hell of a shot with a blaster when he puts his mind to it. Do you know he can hit a moving seeker at thirty meters?"

"Not bad," Luke commented.

"You're not kiddin' it's not bad. But he's weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"Well...for one thing, he's turned us all into a bunch of goddam vegetarians."

Luke laughed. "You? A vegetarian?"

"It's true. When he was a baby, he'd eat anything we put in front of him. But once he found out where meat came from, he wouldn't touch it. Leia had a Hell of a time trying to get him to eat until we finally figured out what it was. He'd eat fruits and vegetables---even guaco beans, Deities help him. But he wouldn't eat any kind of meat. And Deities forbid we should bring any kind of animal flesh to the table now. I mean, he looks at us like we've just cooked up his favorite pet and put it on a platter. If I want a decent meal, I've got to go out for it."

"So he's a vegetarian. What's wrong with that?"

"Coming from my family, that's weird. But that's not the really weird part. You would think that someone who likes animals enough not to eat them would like them in general. But Rupert can't stand them. Except for his damn mortu, which he takes everywhere. He hates the zoo. Cried when Leia tried to take him. And it's not because the animals are in cages, because the zoo we got tries to keep the environment as close to their natural habitat as possible. And he doesn't like doing normal kid-things. Sports are all right. He plays skeet-ball like a pro, but other kid things... I tried to take him camping once, on Endor. You know Endor. It's a kid's paradise, even if they did try to have me for dinner once. Talking teddy-bears, tree-houses, you name it. Rupert started screaming the minute we landed and wouldn't stop until I packed him back up onto the Falcon . As soon as we spaced, he was happy as a lunga. Said he couldn't keep them out, whatever 'them' meant. I asked him what was 'them,' and he said he didn't know."

Luke looked at Han with sudden interest. "You're right. That is weird. Tell me something, Han. Has Rupert ever...displayed any other unusual behavior?"

"You mean besides all that?"

Luke nodded.

Han sighed, suddenly serious. "Tell you the truth, Luke, that's what worries me the most about him. See, he...weirds-out sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he weirds-out. It's kinda hard to explain. His eyes get all glassy, and it's like he's not there. First time it happened, Leia was sure he'd eaten something, and called the emergency medics for poison intervention. It's been getting worse and worse lately, and nothing we can do seems to stop it. Last time it happened, he did it in front of Corran."

"Huh," Luke said thoughtfully.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's just that...Leia said sending the kids to me was Corran's idea."

"Do you know something that I don't?" Han asked.

Luke shook his head. "Not for certain," he said. "But it may be that Corran had another reason for sending the kids here than their immediate safety."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you when I know for sure. In the meantime, let's just concentrate on finding Rupert and the others before Lippa's henchmen do."

Han was silent for a moment as Luke drove the speeder, knowing that when Luke made up his mind not to do something, it stayed made up. Whatever it was, if Luke decided it was important, he would tell him.

The silence stretched out, and Han suddenly realized that he had been the one doing most of the talking. He had talked about himself, his own kids, but Luke had said nothing, about himself or Brenna. "All right, Luke. I've told you about my brood. What about yours?"

"Huh?" Luke said.

"How's Brenna?"

"Oh. She's...okay, I guess."

"'Okay, you guess'?" Han repeated dryly. "That tells me a lot."

Luke gave a little laugh. "Sorry. There aren't that many people out here I can talk to. I guess I'm a little out of practice. She's fine."

"From 'okay' to 'fine.' Well, I guess that's an improvement. Must be nice to have a kid without any problems to go with it."

Luke shook his head. "I don't think you want to hear about my problems."

"Hey! That's exactly what I want to hear about. See, I hear about your problems, then it makes me feel like mine are normal."

Luke smiled a little. "All right, you asked for it. Brenna is...everything I could have hoped for under other circumstances. She's strong, she's healthy, she's intelligent...Unfortunately, she's also adventuresome---"

"Sounds like someone else I used to know," Han said.

"And when you couple that with Force-sensitivity, it spells trouble."

"She definitely sounds like someone else I used to know. But I would have thought that of all people, you'd be the one to want a Force-sensitive child."

"As I said, Han, under other circumstances....When she was born, Briande and I were constantly touching her through the Force, and encouraging her to reach back to us. Since Briande's death, I've found myself in the awkward position of having to train a child who is naturally strong with the Force to not use it, to untrain her, as it were."

"Hey, Luke, I don't mean to tell you your business, but can you do that? I mean, I thought once a sensitive, always a sensitive."

"Only to a certain degree. It's like...a muscle. If you don't use it, it will start to atrophy. In the case of the Force, there's a certain optimal training period. Beyond that age, it becomes harder to teach a sensitive how to tap into it. The older the student, the more difficult it is to teach him or her. I was about Brenna's age now when Kenobi started to teach me, and that was close to the end of the optimal period. Corran and some of the others were older, and as a result, they never did develop to the same level as the original order of Jedi."

"Oh," said Han.

"I had hoped," Luke went on, "that Briande and I could train them at least well enough to find other sensitives---preferably still within the optimal training age---and pass on what they had learned, so that the next generation of Jedi would be even stronger than the first. Briande and I had been working, too, to find younger students. Unfortunately, those were also the ones Lippa went after first."

There was a long silence. Finally Han said, "You don't belong here, Luke."

"What?" Luke said, not understanding.

"What are you doing here? You don't belong on this Deities-forsaken sandball any more than I do."

"I grew up here," Luke reminded him. "It's my home."

"You may have grown up here, but it's not your home. Face it, this place is just an isolated chunk of sand. You can't even make a decent living farming here."

"It was never my intention to get rich, Han. And it's precisely because it's an isolated chunk of sand that I'm here. Ben Kenobi knew what he was doing when he brought me here as a baby. I brought Brenna for the same reasons."

Han was confused again. "What do you mean?"

Luke patiently tried to explain. "Every Force-sensitive creates a kind of...ripple in the Force, a peculiar sensation that another trained sensitive can identify as that person's presence. When a sensitive draws on the Force, or feels strong emotions, it creates even more movement. And the closer you are to the source of the disturbance, physically or emotionally, the easier it is to sense. Brenna is the offspring of two Force-sensitives. The Force is strong with her. She has the potential of causing a wave that can be felt across immense distances. The farther I can keep her from Etan Lippa, the better my chances of protecting her."

"I don't get it," Han said. "What's so special about Etan Lippa, anyway? I mean, I know he used to be a student of yours, and that you think he was responsible for Briande's death---"

"Not 'think,'" Luke told him. "Know."

"Okay, know. But I thought you Jedi were supposed to be able to handle people like that. What makes Lippa so different?"

Luke kept his eyes straight ahead on the terrain. "Han...what do you get if you rearrange the letters in Etan Lippa's name?"

"Uh, I dunno. Lippa Etan. Papil Nate. Pal---Sweet Deities, Luke! Palpatine?"

Luke nodded. "I didn't realize it myself until Briande was killed."

"But...the Emperor's dead...isn't he?"

"You and I both have children. Why not Palpatine? I'm almost positive that Etan Lippa is his son."

Han let out a long breath. If Luke was 'almost positive,' then it was a certainty.

"At any rate," Luke went on, "he's managed to separate the Jedi, and destroy each one individually, just like Palpatine and Vader did."

"Beginning with you," Han said.

Luke looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Han shook his head. For a Jedi Knight, Luke could be incredibly dense sometimes. "You were the first one to leave," Han said. "Any military strategist worth his salt knows that the easiest way to weaken a unit is to separate it from its leader."

Luke stared at his friend, suddenly realizing the truth of the statement. Ordinarily, Han might have been worried about the effects on Luke's driving, but this was Tatooine there was nothing to run into.

Finally, Luke turned his head forward again, but his mind was not on the terrain. "Force help me," he whispered to himself. "I helped Lippa kill my friends..."

"You're supposed to be finding my brother," Lucy complained, "not going out on dates."

"Will you relax?" Brenna replied. "I've taken care of finding your brother."

"What about that guy at the cantina? It might have been him."

"If it was Rupert, he'll be back. And so will I."

"Maybe I should go find him myself instead of staying cooped up here while you go partying and picking up strange guys."

Brenna sighed. "We've been over this before. The ones who planted the bomb on your ship know what you look like. I, on the other hand, have no likeness on record. Therefore, I have to be the one to find Rupert. If you two hadn't been so stupid as to not set a time to meet at this cantina, things would be a lot easier. If he made it down in one piece, he's probably trying to fix your ship, and he can't be there and at the cantina at the same time. When he does get to the cantina, he'll know when to expect me. So cool your turbos and be patient, and I will find your brother for you. In the meantime, you get to enjoy the amenities of a Tatooine five-star hotel."

"Great," Lucy muttered with negative enthusiasm. Their 'five-star' hotel room was hardly more than a Jawa-hole. "Just what I always wanted."

The bantha was crazed. It had had a fracture on its right foreleg, the result of being forced to run too quickly down a sand dune. It had been in pain, but all its owner cared about was speed, and the poor creature had been whipped with charge prods and jabbed with spear points to go farther, and faster. The beast was in agony, and its owner just didn't care.

Rupert had been on his way back to the cantina when it hit him. His eyes became glassy. His steps grew uncertain, like the bantha's. When the owner prodded the poor beast again, Rupert cried out and grabbed his left side. The passersby began to give him a somewhat wider berth, and looked at him curiously.

Two blocks over, the bantha staggered, and Rupert staggered into the street. The bantha collapsed to its front knees. At the same time, Rupert fell to his own knees.

And that's when it happened. Just as curious on-lookers started to gather around Rupert, and the rare good samaritan in Mos Eisley was asking if he needed medical assistance, the bantha's owner prodded the beast one last time, and the animal's mind snapped.

Ignoring the pain in its front leg, the bantha regained its feet, and then reared up, throwing its abusive owner to the ground and signing its own death warrant. Its owner climbed to his feet, grabbed the nearby spear, and shook the point at the bantha threateningly. The bantha ignored the spear point and trampled the owner, killing him instantly. It screamed and circled around in a wild dance, threatening the pedestrians, and scaring other banthas with riders.

Two blocks over, Rupert was going crazy. He screamed in volumes and pitches that human vocal cords weren't designed produce, making sounds that would cause him to be hoarse for days to come. His arms flailed, striking anyone who tried to come near him.

Those who saw Rupert simply assumed he had o.d.'d on something illegal. It was a common enough occurrence in Mos Eisley. Someone called it in, a routine call.

Brenna was walking up the street when the bantha went mad. She stopped and watched from a distance for a few seconds, too far away to be in immediate danger. But something pulled her to the left. She followed the pull, recognizing it as the same sort of intuition that had told her to leave the housing complex with Lucy.

Two blocks over, another sort of crowd was gathering, and Brenna's intuition told her that this was somehow important, more important than the bantha, and she needed to be there. She ran to whatever was causing the excitement, and pushed her way to the center of the crowd.

To her amazement, it was Lando!

He had flipped out, just like the bantha, and somehow Brenna knew that the two were connected.

"Lando!" she shouted.

Rupert didn't hear her. He was too caught up in the bantha's rampage.

Brenna started towards him, pulling free of the arms that tried to hold her back, and at the same time willing with all her might that she could protect him from whatever it was that was doing this to him. She thought about building a mental barrier of quiet around him, like an invisible bubble, protecting him against the equally unseen forces that were attacking him.

And suddenly...the madness was gone.

Rupert panted with the aftermath, no longer caught in its grip, but still wrapped in the immediate memory of the madness.

"Lando?" Brenna queried.

Neither the voice nor the name registered right away. So far, the only thing that was beginning to register was that the madness had been taking him, and now...it wasn't.

"Lando!" Brenna said again.

Rupert felt hands on his shoulders, then on his waist, trying to pull him up.

"Lando, are you okay?"

The voice and the name finally penetrated his consciousness. There was only one person who called him by that name, and with that voice: it was the one person he didn't want to see him like this. He turned his head and confirmed what his ears had already told him. "You," he said weakly, struggling to regain his breath. "What are you doing here?"

Two blocks over, somebody shot the bantha dead. Rupert didn't even flinch.

"We have a date, remember?" Brenna said. She pulled him through the ring of onlookers, out of the blinding light of the twin Tatooine suns, into the sheltered archway of a building and wiped his face with her hands. "Are you all right?"

He nodded and waved a vague hand. "Medical condition. Sorry."

Brenna glanced up over the edge of the archway at the twin suns. "The heat around here can get to anyone," she said. "Let's go find someplace cooler, and get you something to drink."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a bar in a small cantina across the street. Rupert nursed his trisilade quietly as Brenna watched him. Embarrassment and shame had replaced the disorientation of his broken link with the bantha.

"So...what kind of medical condition is it?" Brenna asked.

Rupert shook his head. "Nobody seems to know. I've been to the best and the most expensive doctors and specialists in the galaxy, and they can't figure it out. Every once in a while, I just...weird out."

"'Weird-out'?"

"For lack of a better name."

Brenna rested her cheek on the heel of her hand. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask."

"I mean, I don't want to embarrass you."

"Ask," Rupert repeated.

"Are you really a pilot?"

"Yeah." He waited for the rest of it.

"And they let you fly?"

Rupert smiled and shook his head. "First of all," he replied, "I'm a private pilot, not commercial."

"Private, huh? But don't you have to disclose any medical conditions before hiring out, even as a private pilot?"

Rupert's smile turned lopsided, as Han's always did when he was being wry. "I guess it's a good thing I've got my own ship, then."

Brenna was surprised. "You've got your own ship? You said something yesterday about getting back to your ship, but I thought you were speaking metaphorically, as in, I have to get back to the ship on which I work. Your own ship? I'm impressed."

"Don't be. She's just an old freighter. Everyone who sees her says she looks like a piece of junk. She's not even space-worthy at the moment. But she belonged to my Dad before me, and I wouldn't trade her for all the spice on Kessel. I love to fly her every chance I can get."

"Well, if you've got your own ship, I think I'll let you pay for the refreshments." She looked at him and asked, "What if you, uh, 'weird-out' at a critical time?"

"Ah, well, you see, that's the thing. There's no medication or treatment that helps my condition, except spacing. For some reason, I don't weird-out in space. Or at least, I haven't yet. And if I do, I've got the best co-pilot in the galaxy. He'll take over and get us safely where we're going."

"So...when do I get to meet your co-pilot?"

"Oh, he's...tending to some important business right now. I'm not even sure exactly where he is at the moment, or I'd introduce you."

"Great," Brenna commented. "A pilot who 'weirds out' and a co-pilot who can't be found. Makes me want to fly Lando Spaceways."

He took a sip of his trisilade without looking at her, then put the glass back down. "Look," he said quietly, "You don't have to stick around. I'm all right now."

"It was a joke."

"I know. But still..."

"We still have a date," she reminded him.

Rupert gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I guess you saw I'm not exactly the type girls want to go out with."

"Why not?" Brenna asked. "I mean, you're weird and all, but you're still kinda cute, and it was awfully sweet of you to come to my rescue." The fact that she really hadn't needed rescuing was irrelevant. He hadn't known that, and it was still sweet of him to want to.

Rupert had not spent his entire life under Han's tutelage for nothing. He inclined his head with a gallant flourish of his hand. "It was my pleasure, m'lady."

Brenna propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward on her fists. "Look, I can't promise anything beyond today, and as soon as my contact arrives at the cantina, I'm out of here. That's true whether you flip out or not. But in the meantime..."

"You still want to go out?"

"Lando," she said, "I have a question to ask you, and the entire brief future of our relationship depends upon the answer."

"Oh? Is it the sort of question like, 'Is it genetic?' The answer is, I don't know."

"No. The question is, how do you feel about hoverskating?"

"Hoverskating?"

"Yeah."

"They have hoverskating rinks here on Tatooine?"

Sports had always been something that Rupert was good at. With his gleeat-like reflexes and his uncanny sense of balance, he'd long ago taken to hoverskating as naturally as a shalim to water. But he had once weirded-out at a hoverskating rink, and he hadn't been back since. Until now.

Now, in the presence of this nameless mechanic from Tatooine, he felt for the first time as if he could do anything. She was remarkable. She hadn't run away screaming when she'd learned about his weirding-out, and in her presence, the madness was gone. He could be himself, and he had never felt more himself than now, being with her.

Brenna, for her part, was surprised by the unique experience of actually having a partner who, in some ways, was better than she was! Lando didn't have her sense of musicality, but what he lacked in that area he more than made up for in strength and agility. And even though Lando had obviously never skated with a partner before, they paired well together once he learned to shorten his gliding stride to accommodate hers. With the music playing all around and the rink being relatively uncrowded at that time of day, their hoverskating was more like dancing, and was the closest thing to flying without a ship that she had ever experienced. It was exhilarating.

After a while, Brenna suggested that he throw her into a relatively simple jump that she had landed a hundred times on her own, and had performed for him earlier, just to show off. She landed this time on her butt, because she had underestimated the amount of strength with which he could throw her. He apologized profusely as if it was his fault. Brenna laughed it off and asked him to do it again, exactly the same way. The second time she managed to keep on her feet, although she two-footed the landing. Eventually she managed to get the hang of it, although she was frustrated with the amount of time it took her. If she had known that it took professional skaters a hundred times as long to master that particular move with a new partner, she might have been more forgiving of herself.

Despite that difficulty, however, Lando was by far the best partner with whom she had ever hoverskated. But the exertion from hoverskating and from another drain that Brenna was only subconsciously aware of began taking their toll, and eventually she had to quit, even though Rupert was ready to keep going. "Enough!" she laughed, breathing hard. "Lando, I would love to stay and keep hoverskating with you, but you've worn me out."

Rupert skated a circle around her and came to a halt. "Do I pass the 'let's continue this relationship' test?"

"Yes, yes!" she laughed, trying to regain her breath. "If I can! But I'm done in for today. And besides, I have to check the cantina for my contact. Let's go get our shoes back and blow this sand-hole."

Rupert gallantly offered her his arm and led her off the hover rink to the skate rental 'droid, who returned their shoes and dutifully sanitized the skates for the next renters. Arm in arm they left the rink. Rupert stopped when she did, thinking that she meant to take her leave, and the knowledge that this, his very first date ever, was over made him a little despondent.

But she smiled and said, "I had a great time today."

"Me, too, Mechanic" Rupert replied, meaning it. He'd gotten into the habit of calling her 'Mechanic' since she still hadn't given him her name.

"But..." Brenna said.

"But?"

"This contact I'm meeting at the cantina. He could show up today. He could show up tomorrow. He could show up a week from now. When he does, I'll have to leave."

"I understand," Rupert said.

"I just...don't want to make any promises I can't keep."

"I wouldn't want you to."

"In the meantime, if you want to keep seeing each other, that's fine with me. But no promises, and no commitments. And if I can't meet you tomorrow or the next day or whenever, that's the reason. Not your weirding-out. After I meet him, I'll be leaving. I just don't know when that will be. Okay?"

"Okay. No commitments. I understand."

She smiled then, and stepped in closer. She looked as if she wanted him to kiss her. She was just standing there, face turned upwards, looking at him.

Without conscious will, Rupert felt his arms come up around her. Her smile broadened, and she stepped in closer. Her arms came up around him, and the stirrings inside Rupert returned. But these were from within himself, not from somewhere he couldn't define. He closed his eyes against them, but was unwilling to drop his arms or move away. On the one hand, he knew that these were primal animal urges. On the other hand, they were so real. They were coming from within himself, not out of nowhere and everywhere, like so many others.

He must have hesitated too long, because she pulled away slightly, muttered, "Aw, Hell," and stretched up to press her mouth against his.

The sensations inside Rupert exploded.

He didn't know exactly what to do, but he had vague memories of biting and pinning and holding and just taking. He didn't know where those memories originated. There was no explanation for them. Maybe it was what he was supposed to do.

He tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. He inhaled her scent deeply, letting it fill him and wash over him. He felt his mouth, his whole body, responding to her, pressing against her, wanting to devour her, to incorporate her into himself. He pressed harder.

But then he felt her pushing away, and it was all he could do to let her go.

"H-hey," she said, a little nervously. "Not so hard, okay?"

Rupert forced his arms to drop. "Sorry," he croaked hoarsely, and turned away in shame.

"No, it's okay," Brenna said, and moved around in front of him. "Just...not so hard. Okay?"

Rupert raised his eyes to her face in confusion. "You...don't want to do it again, do you?"

"Sure," Brenna replied, shrugging. "As long as you don't crush me to death."

Rupert's expression was earnest. "I'll try not to," he promised, "but I'm not I mean, I can't--"

"Great Deities!" Brenna said, realizing what the problem was. "You've never done this before, have you?"

"Sorry," Rupert said ruefully.

"Oh, for crying out loud." Brenna reached up, took his face between her palms, and stretched up and touched her lips to Rupert's.

The sensations filled him again, but he pushed them down, forcing himself to remain in control.

She broke away. "Would you relax? I promise, I won't hurt you."

She stretched up and kissed him again. Rupert caught another whiff of her scent, and it was nearly too much for him. His desire for her was so strong, it was hard to think of anything else. He wanted to hold her, to be even closer to her than he was. He raised his hands to her shoulders, careful to just rest them there, trying hard to remember not to crush her.

Her hands moved down from his cheeks to his chest, then slid around to his back, pulling him to her a little closer. She seemed to be saying that a little pressure was okay.

The sensations intensified, but he found that they didn't overwhelm him to the point where he couldn't stop himself from crushing her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her in any way. He'd been afraid that he wouldn't be able to control himself, but somehow, with her, he felt protected against all the outside feelings and impressions, the ones that weren't his own, and he started to let himself enjoy the experience.

Oh, it was glorious! He'd experienced lust from a thousand sources he didn't understand, confusing images and animal instincts originating from bizarre ethereal resonances he thought must have been from dark recesses inside his own mind, but this was different. This was his own real passion, not dream-lust, and the depths of his soul from which it arose didn't seem at all bizarre or ethereal. It was real, the most real thing he'd ever experienced.

His mouth wanted to open, and he tentatively parted his lips, just a little. When he found Brenna was willing, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer without crushing her.

He felt her moan against him, and knew it was a moan of pleasure, and not of protest, and the feeling that knowledge gave him was...exquisite.

Rupert sensed that she wanted more, just as he did, but he remembered a piece of advice his father had given to him when they'd had one of their talks about girls.

Always leave 'em wanting a little more, Han had said. Ya gotta give 'em a reason to come back.

He pulled away from her then, a little, not even aware that he was teasing, until she pulled him back hungrily.

Then Rupert remembered something his mother had once said. She hadn't actually been talking about girls; she'd been talking about eating chocolates, but he was sure she'd been talking about something else, too.

The best way is just to savor it. Let it melt in your mouth. Draw it out. Otherwise, you just swallow it, it's gone, and you've gained all those calories for very little in return.

Rupert knew that there had been something more in that statement, because just then his father had strolled by and popped one of the little goodies into his mouth, and his mother had complained, Hey! I'm trying to teach Rupert an important lesson about life, and you're ruining it!

His father had stopped then, surprised, and around a mouthful of goo had asked What lesson is that?

Exasperated his mother had said How to savor the pleasures of life.

His father had gotten an incredulous expression on his face, crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall, and said, Kid, ya gotta go for the gusto, seize the moment, live in the now, and take what you can before somebody else gets it.

His mother had shaken her head and said, That's not exactly the lesson I was trying to teach.

His father had replied that it was the only one worth learning.

Later, Rupert had asked Lucy if their mother had given her the lesson about the chocolates, and if she knew what it was supposed to mean. Lucy's reaction was somewhat different than what he had hoped for. Mom has chocolates? she said, and dashed out of the room in search of the treats.

But the kiss was now, and it was so much sweeter than chocolates. Rupert's hands found her hair, and it was so incredibly soft that his fingers just had to play in it.

He left off the kissing her mouth and found her neck, and the intensity with which he covered her bare skin with his mouth made her gasp. Her sweet-salty taste became as much a part of him as the faint scent of the soap she washed with, and the faint body-smells beyond the soap, growing stronger as they both became more breathless. Then he found her mouth again, and it was just as wonderful as it had been before.

Eventually, by some mutual unspoken agreement, they pulled apart.

"You know," Brenna said, "for someone who's never done this before, you learn fast."

Rupert grinned and kissed her again.