Chapter Eight

"What do you mean?" Lana wanted to know.

Clark explained what he had heard--omitting the more offensive parts, of course. "All I know is Blackwood's up to no good. He's the one responsible for Henry's death, and maybe Robin's as well. Whatever he's up to, I suspect Henry had something on him, and now he's worried that Lianne knows as well."

"Oh, wow," Lana murmured. "You're never going to believe this, but I dreamed something like that last night. It was like I was experiencing one of Lianne's memories. Henry was talking her about Blackwood, telling her not to trust him. I think Henry suspected he was up to no good."

"The plot thickens," Gillian commented.

"You think you're experiencing some of Lianne's memories?" Clark asked.
"It's possible," Gillian said. "We have somehow switched places with these people. It's not out of the question that we could have access to their memories."
"But it's not like it's voluntary or anything," Lana made sure to mention. "It just came to me in a dream."

"Still, it's something," Gillian pointed out. "Wow… this is getting crazier by the minute."

"You're telling me," Clark said. "So far every part of your father's story has come true."

A heavy silence fell over them as they thought about the story's end. It was Lana who voiced what they were all thinking.

"Kendrick will die in my arms," she murmured. She looked up at Clark, fear reflected in her eyes. "We have to get back to the future before Lothar makes his move. I can't let you die here!"

"Then whatever we're supposed to accomplish, we have to do it soon," Clark concluded grimly.

"A fine idea if we knew what the hell we were supposed to do," Gillian said. "Short of changing history, I can't see why we were brought here."

"Then we'll change history," Lana declared.

"Hey, I'm all for it," Clark added. "So what do you propose we do?"

"I suggest we search the place, starting with the treasury and Henry's chamber," Gillian suggested. "If he did have something on Lothar, perhaps we might find some clues."

"Good idea," Lana agreed. "I'll search through Lianne's things, see what she knew."

"I'll hang around the other knights, keep my ears peeled to see if they know anything," Clark suggested.

"Good thinking. I'm glad we have a guy with us. As women, I imagine we were kept in the dark--or at least, they tried to keep us in the dark," she added smartly. "I also think we should hone our fighting skills, just in case. Clark, I don't suppose you know anything about fencing or archery?"

"Oh yeah, I learned it when we did Medieval Weaponry in gym last year," he said sarcastically.

"I watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns," Lana added.

"Great. We'll vanquish enemy knights with wooden stakes," Gillian said dryly. "Looks like we're going to start at square one. Come on, Clark… I'll change into something practical, and we'll have our first fencing lesson."

"I want to learn, too," Lana spoke up.

"You do?" Gillian regarded her with surprise. "OK, then… the more, the merrier. Clark do you think your squire would mind greatly lending me some of his clothes?"

"He'll do it. If not, I'll threaten to make him clean the cesspit."

Lana arched an eyebrow. "You're really getting into this knight stuff, aren't you?"
"You gotta admit, it is kind of fun."

"Fun until you have a crossbow rammed down your throat," Gillian said wryly. "But I see what you're saying. Father and I have always been dying to see what it was really like. And I must admit, these medieval birds sure knew how to dress."

"Wish I could say the same for the guys," Clark remarked.

"Oh, I don't know. I think hose becomes you. Doesn't it, Lana?"

Lana felt her cheeks warm up, recalling her and Gillian's earlier conversation. "Oh, it does."

She felt gratified that Clark was blushing just as furiously as she was. Man, was he cute when he blushed…

Enough of this! she told herself firmly. "We're on a tight schedule, so we'd best get going."

"Right. I'll see about getting you those clothes." Clark walked off to find his squire.

Lana tried very hard not to look at certain parts of his retreating figure.
--

A week passed by, disappointingly uneventful. The three of them found little on Henry or Lianne. Whatever Lothar had been up to, Henry kept it well hidden. Lana didn't experience any more Lianne's memories, either.

She was beginning to feel desperate. In another week Lothar would be back. If he indeed tried to take Langdon by force, they were sitting ducks. How could three American teenagers--well, two American teenagers and a British college student--expect to hold off an army? Damn it, why did we have to be chosen? she lamented. It may have been the adventure of a lifetime, but right now, all she wanted was to be safe and sound at home, where her biggest worries were her class project and exams and her driving test. Boring old life in Smallville was suddenly very appealing.

At least she could blow off some steam at fencing practice. Gillian proved to be a very apt teacher. Clark caught on surprisingly well, and even Gillian was impressed. "Maybe some of Kendrick's skill passed on to me," he said hopefully.

Lana, on the other hand, demonstrated only slightly more natural ability at fencing than at needlepoint. Not surprisingly, Gillian focused most of her energies on helping Clark while Lana was left at the mercy of Ralph. Not that the boy was a bad teacher, but his style of teaching always involved putting his hands on her to make sure she understood the proper body positioning.

Great. She was getting groped by a 14-year-old while Gillian got hot and sweaty with Clark. Life just wasn't fair.

Lana couldn't help but feel a small twinge of jealousy when she saw the easy, carefree way those two acted around each other. She and Clark hadn't been that way in so long. Maybe never. Everything with them had always involved so much drama. Couldn't it ever be that simple again?

These thoughts ran through Lana's head as she strolled outside the castle one day, the temperate breeze swirling her skirt around her slender legs. The day was unusually warm and humid, although it had nothing on Smallville in the summer.

The distant clash of metal alerted her that Clark was in the lists again, as he had been every afternoon of his stay at Langdon. He sure was dedicated! But then, maybe if she didn't suck so miserably at fencing, she would be, too.

She approached the lists, staying on the sidelines. Clark was engaged in a spirited fencing match with Ralph, blades flashing in the sunlight as they thrust and parried. Clark had stripped off his tunic and practiced only in his linen undershirt. Lana tried very hard not to notice the way the fabric clung to his broad chest, or to imagine the taut, sinewy muscles beneath. Perhaps watching sweaty Clark in a clingy linen shirt and hose might not be the best way to lower her body temperature.

Clark had gained the advantage and was slowly pushing Ralph back. He finally succeeded in disarming his squire, who held his hands up in protest. "No fair! The sun was in my eyes!"

"Excuses, excuses." Shaking his head, Clark affectionately tousled the boy's hair. "Good match, kid."

Ralph grinned broadly. It was clear the boy worshipped Kendrick. He'd be on cloud nine all day after that compliment.

Watching the affectionate, almost brotherly way Clark acted around Ralph, Lana felt a wave of tenderness rise within her. Clark was such a fascinating contradiction. One moment he was all soft and boyish; the next, all strength and gritty masculinity. It only drew her in all the more, making her want to find out which he really was.

Presently he glanced up, as if sensing her presence. Their eyes met. A shiver rode down her spine, and she felt silly and self-conscious. Had he noticed the way she was staring at him? God, she hoped not!

His easy smile gave no indication that he sensed her turbulent thoughts. "Hey, Lana. Been standing there long?"

"Enough to watch a great fencing match," she answered.

Ralph beamed.

So did Clark. "Come practice with us."

She laughed. "I'm not exactly dressed for it."

She did not miss the way Clark's eyes gave her body the once-over. "OK… maybe later then, after supper?"

"Oh, I don't think you'd like to work with me… I'm afraid my skill, or should I say lack thereof, leaves much to be desired."

"Well, that's exactly why you should practice with me," Clark reasoned. "I'll help you."

"Aye, and so will I," Ralph added importantly.

"Don't think so, squirt. You've got kitchen duty, remember?"

"Blast!" Ralph scowled. "And what's a squirt, anyway?"

"A squirt is an undersized squire who doesn't know when he's late to help with dinner."

"God's blood!" Ralph cursed, and promptly sprinted toward the castle.

Lana had to laugh. "You are so mean!"

"I was only trying to help," said Clark innocently. "He does have kitchen duty."

"Still…." She smiled. "He totally idolizes you, you know."

Clark ducked his head bashfully, dragging the toe of his shoe through the dust.

"I can't say I blame him. He probably thinks you're Superman."

He shrugged, giving a self-conscious smile. "Hate to burst his bubble, but I'm just a regular guy."

Lana shook her head. "No, you're not… not by a long shot."

For a moment they just stood there, smiling at each other, seemingly oblivious to all that was around them. Lana barely noticed the sound of hooves pounding the dusty ground, birds chirping, sheep bleating, or the blacksmith shouting abuse at an inept apprentice. All she noticed was Clark, standing in front of her with that adorable grin, dark hair curling in damp tendrils at his forehead and at the nape of his neck. He had such cute little dimples at the corners of his mouth. She'd loved to kiss them, to see the way it made him blush.

She swallowed, realizing her mouth had gone dry. "Maybe we should go in, get cleaned up before dinner."

"Oooh, dinner. I'm starving!" he said. "I wonder what bizarre concoction Cook will come up with today?"

She laughed. "Your guess is as good as mine."

He held out his arm. "Shall we?"

She took it, smiling. "Certainly, my lord."

Arm-in-arm, they walked back to the castle.

And Lana found herself both simultaneously anticipating and dreading tonight's fencing lesson.
--

They met up in the tower chamber after supper, as planned. It was Clark's idea. He didn't want to be out in the lists after dark, particularly with Lana. The tower chamber was a spacious room, plenty big enough for some one-on-one fencing.

"Hey, Clark." Lana stood framed in the doorway, looking ethereally beautiful in the glow of the torchlight. "Thanks for taking the time to help me out."

"No problem." She was wearing a tunic and hose borrowed from Ralph. He tried not to think about the way the hose clung to her shapely legs and molded to her round, delightfully feminine bottom. Maybe this lesson wasn't such a good idea, after all.

"OK, um…." He cleared his throat. "I guess we could go over the seven strokes."

"OK." She drew the blunted practice sword she'd borrowed from Ralph.

They went through a few simple warm-up exercises. He immediately corrected her whenever he saw a mistake. "No, Lana, fendente, not deritto."

Lana looked confused. "Didn't I do that?"

"No… you've got them backwards. Here, let me show you."

He stepped behind her. "Your position is a little off. Shift your weight a little… see?"

He placed his hands on her waist, guided her to the correct position. She peered up at him, her cheek practically right against his. "Like this?"

He gulped. "Yeah. Now you move your hand like this…." He placed his hand over her sword hand and guided her through the stroke. Which wasn't easy to do when one's hand was shaking.

"Oh… I get it. Like this?" She swiped with the sword.

Clark yelped and ducked just in time. Thank God the sword was blunted, or he'd have just gotten a haircut. "You might want to wait till I get out of the way first!"

Lana clapped her free hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God! I am so sorry!"

"It's OK." He straightened up, gave a patient smile. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

He watched her, rather disappointed that she didn't need any more help with her positioning. They went through all the strokes, until he finally decided she was ready to try combat.

"You'll go easy on me, won't you?" she asked with a nervous smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Don't worry. I won't whoop your butt… too bad."

"Oh, you're so going to pay for that!" She assumed a fighting stance.

So began the match. Clark tried to rein in his strength as best he could, but he soon found himself fighting to keep up with her. What she lacked in strength she made up for in quickness and agility. Her smaller size helped her to duck and dodge his attacks, although she was considerably weaker in offense. They could work on that. He was able to win the match fairly easily, but he had to give her credit for effort.

"Good match, my lady." He gave a mock bow.

She laughed. "Why, thank you, my lord."

"You've really improved, just in one session."

"Really?" Eagerness lit up her face.

"Really," he answered, and he meant it. Lord, she looked so beautiful…. The soft torchlight highlighted her fine features to perfection, brought out golden highlights in her silken dark hair. Several strands had escaped from her braid and framed her face, dark and striking against her porcelain skin. Even her eyes seemed warmer, almost brown, and every bit as mesmerizing. His gaze traveled from those eyes to those soft, supple lips. Instantly he regretted it. Did he enjoy torturing himself or what?

"Maybe we should go…." she murmured, seeming to sense the turn his thoughts had taken. "It's getting late."

"Yeah, maybe." Neither of them made any move to leave.

Lana broke the moment, taking a step toward him. "I just wanted to thank you again for helping me. You already spend so much time practicing… I would think you'd be sick of it by now."

I'd never be sick of spending time with you, whatever the reason, he thought, but did not dare say. "It's my duty to protect you," he said simply. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

"Clark…." There was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him. "Nothing's going to happen to me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because nothing could ever happen to me as long as you're here. You always seem to find me… against all odds."

"I meant what I said that day, you know," he told her. "I'll always come for you."

"I know." Somehow they'd moved even closer, so close that if he moved, even the slightest bit, he could touch her. "You've always been there… I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here now. You're the one who gave me the strength to survive this crazy place. You gave me courage."

"No, Lana," he denied. "You don't need me to give you courage… if anything, you give me courage."

"How?" she whispered. Their faces, which moments ago had been several inches from hers, were now a breath away.

"Because I couldn't imagine going on without you."

"And I couldn't imagine going on without you."

They hovered there for a moment, so close he could feel her breath. It happened before either of them could think the better of it. It was wrong, so wrong… but heaven help him, he was only a man, and he couldn't resist.

The kiss started off slow, tentative, irresistibly tempting. He pulled her closer, his hand pressing the small of her back as the kiss deepened. Her fingers danced over the curling tendrils at the nape of his neck and buried themselves in his hair. He remembered all too clearly how it felt to be with her, and if it was possible, it felt even more incredible now. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, urging her to open for him, then sliding into the soft warmth of her mouth. She made a soft whimpering sound and swayed slightly. Dear God, the sensation was so intense, he could feel his control starting to slip away. And when she pressed herself even closer, he was sure it would be his undoing.

"Clark…" Lana whispered, when he finally released her lips. "We have to stop…"

"I know." But he made no move to pull away. Neither did she. Rather, he captured her lips again, and this kiss was even more heated and passionate than the first. His hands moved over the graceful curve of her back, frustrated by the layers of fabric between them. He found himself undoing her belt and sliding his hands under the tunic and undershirt, onto her bare back. She gasped against his mouth, but did not pull away. Rather, she welcomed the sensation, tugging at his tunic as if she yearned to feel his skin as well. His hand gradually eased higher, coming around to cup a small, pert breast. He was rewarded by her soft sound of pleasure--right before she pulled away.

"Oh, man…. Lana, I'm sorry," he fumbled, still slightly dazed. "I-I thought you wanted…."

"I did." Her voice was barely audible. "I mean, I thought I did, but…"

"But what?"

"Don't you see?" she implored, finally looking at him. "None of this is real, Clark. It's just…."

"Just what?" he countered. "Lianne and Kendrick's feelings coming through to us?"

"Well, I am having her memories."

"Maybe, but you're still you," Clark argued. "That was you kissing me a minute ago. It was you who wanted me."

"You were the one who kissed me!" she exclaimed.

"You didn't have to kiss me back!"

"Well, I can't help it if you're a good kisser!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh… I'm a good kisser, eh?"

"Don't let it go to your head," she grumbled. She brushed past him, hastily refastening her belt. "I'm going to bed."

He caught her arm, stopping her. "Lana, we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said. "It was a moment of weakness. I was scared… I was vulnerable. I was grateful to you for saving my life. Please… can't we just forget it ever happened?"

"No, we can't," he insisted. "There's something going on here, Lana. I felt it. You felt it, too."

"Of course there is," she murmured. "We have a history. It makes sense that we'd be… attracted to each other."

"It goes beyond that and you know it."

She avoided his eyes, nervously licking her kiss-swollen lips. Damn it, but she would drive him crazy with tempting him. "Please," she mumbled. "Can we just not talk about it?"

He wasn't planning to let the subject drop, but the earnestness in her tone made him reconsider. "Fine," he said stiffly. "But if you think we're just going to go on like it never happened, you're dreaming big-time."

She finally met his gaze, a tremulous look in those round, doe-eyes that reflected his own conflicted thoughts. Then she turned and fled, leaving him standing alone in the tower room wondering what the hell just happened.

And knowing he wasn't getting a wink of sleep this night.