Chapter Eleven

The party was definitely picking up. As the evening wore on and more wine was consumed, the festivities grew even livelier, and it wasn't long before Lana got into the mood, too. The wine was good, the music was fun, and the spectacle before them was so amazing that she wondered how she could possibly have been so uptight earlier. It was time to relax! Forget about the weirdness with Clark and just enjoy the evening.

They finally ventured back onto the floor, doing their best to imitate the steps of the other dancers. What ended up happening was that they repeatedly stumbled, bumped into each other, and stepped on each other's feet, which wasn't hard given the size of Clark's pointy shoes. But eventually they caught on. Lana couldn't recall having this much fun in such a long time. Those medievals sure knew how to party!

The revelry went on well into the evening, ending only when the torches burned low and the jongleurs retired for the night. Clark and Lana left the Great Hall together, stepping out onto the battlements for some fresh air.

"Wow, who knew medievals could throw such a great party, huh?" she joked.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It was just what we needed, with everything that's been happening."

"Totally." Lana gazed out over the darkened castle. "I just wish… I wish I knew that we were going to get home. It's so hard sometimes, not knowing."

"We'll get home," he said. She wished she could believe him.

She looked up at him, the cool breeze stirring a stray wisp of her hair. She saw his hand move, and wondered if he'd reach up to brush it aside. She held her breath, but his hand just melted back down to his side. She tried to hide her disappointment.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "As much fun as tonight was… I miss home. I miss the streetlight shining through my window and the sound of cars on the street and the neighbor's obnoxious rap music."

That brought a smile to his face. "I can't say the same about obnoxious rap music, but I understand what you mean. Still, being here… there's a lot to be said for it."

"How do you figure that?" Lana asked. "Don't you miss your loft? Your truck…your room?"

"Of course I do. But it's been such an incredible adventure. We've seen what no historian has. And we…" His voice trailed off.

Lana felt her heartbeat pick up. "We what?"

"We've spent more time together than we have in ages." His face was in a shadow, but she still felt his eyes on her. "At home, we'd just keep avoiding each other. We'd try not to say the things we know we're thinking. We'd try to ignore what's been happening between us."

Lana looked away, the conversation taking a sudden uncomfortable turn. "Clark, do I have to remind you that you broke up with me?"

"I know. But is it so bad of me to wonder… if I might've made a mistake?"

She turned back to him, her heartbeat kicking into overdrive. "Are you saying you want to get back together?"

He hesitated. "I don't know. It's just… can't you feel it? Something's changed. I don't know how you can go on acting like the other night didn't happen."

She let out a shaky breath. "Because I have no choice."

"Do you… do you still think what we're feeling isn't real?" he asked.

She swallowed and realized her throat had gone dry. "I don't know what to think anymore."

For a moment neither of them spoke, but they didn't need to. Lana wasn't sure how she knew, but when she turned around Clark was right next to her. He was gazing at her with an intensity that frightened her as much as it thrilled her.

"I wish…" She glanced down, trying to find the words to express her turbulent thoughts. "I wish it didn't have to be so complicated."

"I know," he said.

"Can't we just forget about it?" she asked, earnestly. "Can't we just ignore all the messy stuff, and can't you just be kissing me right now?" (1)

She saw his Adam's apple bob, saw the heat in the green depths of his eyes. It was dangerous. Exciting. "That can be arranged," he said huskily, just before he cupped her face in his hand and brought her lips to his.

The first kiss was soft, tentative, yet crackling with an undercurrent of heat and withheld passion. The next kiss was deeper, the third deeper still, and fourth… the fourth was absolutely incendiary. Her arms floated around his neck as he pulled her closer, taking her mouth aggressively, as through claiming her in some primitive way. His tongue coaxed her lips apart and she opened willingly for him. A curl of heat unfurled in her stomach, igniting a chain reaction of tingles across her skin. What little control she had was rapidly slipping away. And as his tongue eased into her mouth and stroked sensuously against hers, she thought she would incinerate.

It was wrong. Oh, so wrong. But nothing ever felt so good, so deliciously indulgent… so absolutely wonderful.

"Clark," Lana whispered, in the brief moment when he released her lips before capturing them again in another heated kiss. She pressed herself closer still, gripping his shoulders, tugging at his tunic. He reached up and pulled the circlet from her hair, letting it fall loose into his hands. Her head fell to the side to give access as he trailed his lips along her neck, dipped his tongue into the exquisitely sensitive spot where her ear met her face. A soft gasp issued from her mouth, but rather than being frightened by how quickly this all was moving, she was excited… and she wanted more of it. Her very blood seemed to run hotter, her body tingling with a wantonness she'd never known before.

She kissed him with every bit as much heat as he kissed her, easing her hands over his muscular chest to undo the laces at the front of his tunic. There was too much fabric between them. She wanted to feel his skin, as she had in the tower room. He pulled back just long enough to strip off his tunic, then hauled her back against him again. Her hands flattened against his hard chest, acutely aware of the taut bands of muscle beneath his shirt. This still wasn't close enough for her. She wanted to be closer still.

Isolde's necklace felt cool and hard against her fevered skin as they continued to kiss. She felt a tug on the back of her bodice as he tried to unfasten the laces, and he cursed softly at his lack of success. "Jeez, and I thought a bra was hard to unfasten."

She laughed gently. "Maybe if I turn around…"

"Nah, I think I got it." He gave another tug and the bodice fell open. The cool air whispered across her skin as he eased the fabric down to her waist, leaving her upper body clad only in her chemise. The linen was very fine, almost transparent, and the outline of her nipples was clearly visible.

She could tell from the heat in his eyes that he noticed it as well. Her soft sigh was swallowed up by his mouth as he pulled her against him, tracing his hands sensually over her back, igniting a fierce heat within her that seemed to spread through her limbs like liquid fire. His hand eased up higher to cup her breast, his touch electrifying through the thin fabric. She moaned softly against his mouth as he traced his thumb across her nipple, which instantly tightened to a diamond-hard peak.

She offered no protest as he eased her chemise down, leaving her bare to the waist. Maybe she should have felt self-conscious, but all she felt now was desire, a fierce urge to have him touch her without the cumbersome fabric being in the way. She helped him take off his undershirt, the cool air rushing across their newly bared skin.

His hands came down to cup her bottom before he hoisted her onto the parapet, stepping into the space between her legs. "Clark, don't stop," Lana whispered has he bent to kiss her neck. Rational thought had been left behind a long time ago. "I want you to touch me… don't ever stop…"

He planted a soft kiss on her throat, before bending lower to draw her nipple into his mouth. He traced his tongue around the taut pink bud, eliciting a gasp of shock and delight. "Oh, God… Clark…" Lana whispered, burying her hands in his hair, the pleasure so intense she thought she might explode. Where did he learn this stuff? Or did she really care, as long as he was doing it to her? All she knew was that self-control was impossible by now. Her body seemed to take on a mind of its own, her breathing becoming quick and shallow as wet heat rushed to the place between her thighs. Passion and desire and need tangled together, and all she knew was that she wanted him… and he wanted her. When he came up to kiss her, she felt his arousal press against her, rock-hard and demanding.

So this was how it's going to happen, she thought dimly. On the battlements of a castle… thousands of miles and 800 years from home…

"Clark, I want you," she whispered feverishly against his neck.

"I want you, too, Lana," he whispered back.

"Are we… are we going to…?" she started.

There was no telling what might have gone on next if not for the sudden slam of a door in the hall. Clark and Lana bolted apart, standing still as the stone walls and scarcely daring breathe. The distinct sound of footsteps grew in volume, approaching the battlements. "Shit," Clark cursed, hastily ducking into the shadows. Yanking her bodice up to cover herself, Lana followed him.

The doorway leading to the allure creaked open. They held their breath, flattening themselves as much as they could against the wall. Someone walked out onto the battlements. "Hello?" a female voice called. "Is anyone out here?"

When she got no reply, the servant snuffed out the torch and walked away. She had almost reached the door when Lana, kneeling in an awkward position, lost her balance and grabbed at Clark for support. Her boot made an obvious scratching sound against the stone.

They both froze as the servant, the one named Eleanor, peered in their direction. Apparently they were safe, though, because she just turned around and headed back to the door. "Must've been one of those cursed rats," Lana thought she heard Eleanor mutter, just before she disappeared inside the castle.

Clark and Lana finally emerged from the shadows, letting out simultaneous sighs of relief. "Man, that was close," she murmured.

"I'll say." She couldn't tell if he was talking about Eleanor or something else.

Frankly, her mind was still spinning when it came to that something else. Good God, what were we thinking? she thought frantically. It was as if some kind of force came over them that made it impossible to control themselves. She'd been attracted to him before, obviously, but never to the point of having an urgent need to rip his clothes off right then and there.

And it was a need that still hadn't been quelled sufficiently.

Affairs of the heart are not always easy to control.

Apparently, neither were affairs of the body.

"I, um, I think I should go," she said awkwardly, aware that she was still holding her bodice over her breasts. She hastily slipped her arms back into the sleeves of her chemise.

"Maybe you're right." At least Clark seemed as shaken up by the encounter as she was.

"So…" Lana said.

"So…" Clark replied.

This was going well.

"Why don't we just say good night and be awkward later?" Lana finally suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

She nodded, backing toward the door. The sight of him with his shirt off wasn't doing any good as far as her restraint went. She quickly averted her eyes and, having nothing more to say, fled.

What a night this had turned out to be.

Wine is evil, Clark thought as he retreated to his chamber. Evil, evil, evil. But secretly, he knew what had happened between him and Lana tonight hadn't been because of the wine. At least not on his part. The few times he'd drank before, he knew he had a pretty high tolerance. And he wasn't the least bit drunk when he kissed her tonight.

At least, not on wine.

He was bone-tired, but sleep was a long time coming. Although he knew they'd done the right thing in stopping—granted, not of their own volition—that didn't prevent his body from feeling uncomfortably hot, unsatisfied. He thought of Lana sleeping down the hall and wondered if she felt the same way.

Maybe she was right. Maybe being here was dangerous. Away from home, all of the things that kept them apart somehow seemed to pale in comparison to their attraction, both physical and emotional. He knew he could never tell her his secret. Yet at the same time he wanted to badly to be able to let her in, to be close to her the way she wanted him to.

Why was it so important? Wasn't his love enough? Why did she have to keep asking for more?

He had tried to stay away from her. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that no matter what, somehow they would always come back to each other. That they had been transported back in time to apparently change history only reinforced his belief that they were somehow bound together.

He had vowed to protect her. And he would do that, no matter what the cost. If it meant lying to her, so be it. That was just the way it was going to have to be if she wanted to be with him.

She would just have to learn to come to terms with that.

Oh, God, did I get run over by a train? Lana thought wearily. Her head pounded and her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Wine was evil.

And so was a world without Tylenol, for that matter.

"Milady, are you feeling all right?" Gwyneth asked, entering the room.

Lana nodded, slowly raising herself to a sitting position. The sunlight slanting through the window lanced her aching head like a white-hot dagger. "I've been better, but I'll manage."

Gwyneth went about her business of helping her dress. She chose a conservative, hunter-green gown, one that had a high neckline and did not cling too closely. And she made sure to leave Isolde's necklace in Lianne's jewelry box. She did not know what possessed her to wear it last night. This is all your fault, Isolde, she thought grouchily. I'm turning into a wanton wench and you're the one to blame.

At least, she liked to think so.

She managed to haul herself to morning mass. The pounding in her head alleviated somewhat, but when she sipped the wine during communion, she was afraid she might puke right on the poor priest's shoes. Breakfast wasn't much better. She forced down some bread and cheese, but even the smell of the mulled wine made her ill.

"Lana, you feeling OK?" Gillian asked with concern.

"If OK means 'like shit that got run over by a Mack truck,' yeah."

"Ah, it looks like you're getting acquainted with the wonderful world of hangovers."

"Goody."

"I'll have Eleanor fetch some water," Gillian offered. "Drink lots of water, and eat salty, greasy food. It helps me."

"Thanks." Lana could barely face the servant as she brought the glass of water. But Eleanor gave no indication that she suspected who had been out there on the battlements last night.

She was acutely aware of Clark's presence, though he was sitting at another table with a group of knights. He glanced up and caught her eye, and she looked away quickly. After breakfast, she tried to give him the slip, but he caught up with her on the way out of the Great Hall.

"Lana, we need to talk."

She was afraid he'd say that. "There's nothing to say."

"I don't agree."

She sighed, resigned. Guess there was no way of delaying the inevitable.

"About last night," he began, clearly as uncomfortable as she was. "There's a lot of excuses we can make for it… the wine, the party, being far from home… but it was too intense for me to believe any of that. At least, it was as far as I was concerned."

She nodded, fighting the blush that came on as she thought of the intimacy they had shared. "It was for me, too."

"So where does this leave us?" he asked.

"I don't know." She drew a slow, shaky breath. "Are we back together?"

"Is that what you want?"

A pause. "I don't know if I'm ready for that again," she admitted.

"Neither am I," he said, sounding equally uncertain. "But it looks like the decision is out of her hands."

She nodded again. "Do you… want to try again?"

"Would that be so bad?" His voice was low, soft, almost a caress.

Oh, why was she so easily affected by him? He could make her do anything, just by using that voice. "We could take it slow," she found herself saying. "Wait a while, see what happens before we…"

"Before we what?"

She gulped, wondering why it was so hard to get the words out. "Before we… take our relationship to the next level."

He seemed to understand what she meant. "Speaking of which, last night reminded me of something else. If we did… go to the next level… what do we do about protection? One thing the professor never mentioned to us was medieval birth control."

"Short of chastity belts, I don't think there was any." Her hand came up to her throat, only to realize that Isolde's necklace was not there. "You know that necklace I was wearing last night?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I went to see Isolde yesterday… she gave it to me. She said it would keep me from getting pregnant."

He looked skeptical. "And you believed her?"

"It was pretty powerful magic that brought us here. I don't know about you, but I just might be starting to believe in it."

"It's getting pretty easy to believe in magic." The way he looked at her made her wonder if there was another meaning to his words. "What made you wear that necklace last night?"

She averted her eyes. "Affairs of the heart aren't always easy to control."

She continued to avoid his gaze, until the gentle touch of his hand on her cheek forced her to look at him. He traced his thumb across hr lower lip, feeling the way it trembled under his feather-light touch. Lord, he could break her just by looking at her. They moved closer together, swaying slightly, her eyes sliding shut as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She lifted her face as his mouth descended on hers, the kiss so tender and achingly sweet that she was sure she would melt.

Her arms drifted around him as he held her close, the gentle heat of his kiss stirring her to the depths of her soul. It felt so right to be with him this way, and she wanted to draw out the fragile perfection of this moment as long as she could.

And neither of them noticed that across the Great Hall, a pair of eyes watched them with interest.

Footnotes:

1) A shout-out to one of my favorite lines from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Said by Tara in "Seeing Red."