Chapter Sixteen

Clark hit the water with an impact that forced the air from his lungs and nearly knocked the wind out of him. The moat was freezing, tepid water soaking through all his layers of clothing and chilling him to the bone. He sank rapidly, weighed down by the heavy, cumbersome mail. He hastily wiggled out his hauberk and clawed his way to the surface.

The cold night air instantly turned the drops of water on his hair and face to ice, but he was grateful for the fresh air. "Lana?" he called. No answer. The surface of the moat remained as calm and undisturbed as though nothing had happened.

Shit. He dove back beneath the water, peering through its murky depths for any sign of life. His fingers tangled in something that he soon realized was Lana's hair. Grabbing her, he hauled her to the surface, swimming toward the other side of the moat as fast as he could.

He was heedless of the freezing air against his soaked skin as he laid her gently on the grassy bank. Her face was pale, her lips blue. Damn it. He tried to recall everything he knew about CPR as he covered her mouth with his. A few moments later found her coughing, sputtering, and spitting out moat water. A surge of relief coursed through him as he helped her to a sitting position. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, the color slowly returning to her face. "The impact must've knocked me out cold."

He hugged her tightly. "Oh, God, Lana… I thought I lost you for a minute."

She gave a gentle smile. "No, you didn't… I'm right here, Clark."

He returned her smile, but the shouts of approaching men quickly broke the moment. "Come on… we'd better get out of here. You think you can walk?"

She nodded. He helped her to her feet, and the two of them hastened into the shelter of the woods. They hid behind a cluster of bushes, scarcely daring breathe as a group of knights gathered at the spot where they'd been standing moments before.

"Do you see them anywhere?" one asked.

Another shook his head. "Think you they could survive that fall? They'll drown for sure."

"I don't know… Kendrick seems to have nine lives."

"Mayhap he really is a warlock," a third knight jumped in.

"Alfred, you ponce, don't tell me you really believe in that nonsense."

"Who're you callin' a ponce, twit?"

Clark and Lana slipped away while the men argued amongst themselves. As they crept along the forest floor, they were relieved to hear the voices fading into the distance.

"Looks like we got away," Lana whispered.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that, gel," a voice behind her growled. Lana froze, petrified by the sharp object poking into her back. "One move, and the lady gets it," her attacker warned.

The next thing she knew, her assailant was sprawled out on his back several feet away and Clark was standing over him. He snatched up the fallen man's sword just in time to fend off an attack from another knight.

What the hell? How did he get here so fast? Lana thought dazedly, watching as the two men fought. Clark wasn't as skilled as his opponent, but he held his own, compensating for what he lacked in skill by brute strength. Dang, what did they feed him on that farm? "Clark, behind you!" Lana shrieked as another knight materialized out of the shadows. Clark whirled around in time to block the blow, spending the next few moments aptly fighting off two men. Lana was in awe. He was incredible!

It was then that she noticed a third knight, skulking in the shadows, holding a crossbow and taking aim. Clark had his hands full, so it was up to her to save him. Oh, God, I hope I'm doing this right, she thought, snatching up the dagger tucked into the fallen man's belt. She hurled it at her target, just as Gillian had taught her.

It found its mark in his chest.

At that moment, Clark finished dispatching both knights. He looked from his fallen attacker to Lana, who stood pale-faced and shaking.

"I just killed that man," she mumbled, her stomach lurching.

"If you hadn't killed him, he'd have killed you… or me," Clark pointed out.

She looked at him with round eyes. "I don't think I can survive in this place..."

"Shhh, it's OK." He gathered her in his arms, comforting her. Gradually her breathing slowed, and the nausea subsided as he ran his hand in slow circles over her back.

"Come," he said, leading her away from the scene. As they passed the sniper's body, Clark suddenly doubled over, holding his hand to his forehead.

"Clark, are you all right?" Lana asked, alarmed.

He nodded. "Just a headache."

"We need to get out of here, find a safe place where we can rest."

She let him lean on her as they left the scene, both of them failing to notice the brilliant green point of the arrow loaded in the crossbow.

"Hey, lucky us. They left us some horses," Clark observed a few moments later. He and Lana helped themselves to two of the slain knights' mounts and rode off into the forest. Lana was grateful that she no longer had to move on foot. Her side was killing her, and she winced as she swung herself onto the saddle.

It wasn't until a good half-hour later that they finally let down their guard. They heard nothing but the usual nighttime sounds of the forest, and were fairly confident that they'd lost their pursuers. Of course, they also had no idea where they were, but right now they were merely grateful to be alive and in one piece.

They soon stumbled upon an old shack, long since abandoned. "We can take shelter here," Clark suggested. They dismounted and made their way to the building. It was barely more than a lean-to, but it provided some cover and protection from the elements.

"Lana, you're hurt," Clark said with concern, noticing the dark crimson stain on her bodice. "Let me take a look at that."

Lana had been so caught up in staying alive, she'd forgotten about the pain. Clark reached for the lacing on the back of her bodice. "Uhh… if you don't mind, I think I'm going to have to…"

"It's OK." You've seen me in less, she thought, her cheeks reddening at the memory.

Ever so gently, Clark eased the bodice off her shoulders. His fingers lightly grazed her skin and ignited a rash of tingles in their wake. She held up her chemise to cover her breasts as he examined the wound. "It's not very deep, thank God," he said. "But I'm worried. You've lost a lot of blood."

She did feel a little lightheaded, but whether it was from blood loss or the fact that she was half-undressed in front of him, she didn't know. "Will I be all right?"

"I think so." He tore a strip of fabric from his linen undershirt and used it as a makeshift tourniquet. "Is that better?"

"A little." He looked away awkwardly as she pulled up her bodice and chemise.

"We'll rest here for the night, and in the morning, we'll figure out how to get to Bedford," he suggested.

She nodded, sinking down next to him on the dank, earthen floor. His arms slid around her and she sank into them gratefully, resting her head on his shoulder. Exhaustion took hold of her like a leaden weight. But before she drifted off, she had to know something. "Clark… on the battlements, when you saved me… didn't that arrow hit you?"

"It might have," he said vaguely. "But I was wearing chain mail."

"Oh." Still, there was still something about his explanation that wasn't quite right. But she was too sleepy to pursue the subject. She drifted off wrapped in Clark's arms, the warmth of his body and the rhythm of his breathing lulling her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Sunlight slanted through the window of the shack when Clark awoke. Lana was still asleep, curled up contentedly against him like a cat. He realized it was the first time he'd fallen asleep with her and woken up next to her. It was a feeling he could get used to.

Brushing her hair aside, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered and she peered up at him with a small smile. "'Morning."

He smiled back. "Morning."

"Looks like we're still alive."

"Amazingly enough."

She yawned, stretching. "Ugh, my back hurts like a bitch."

"Join the club." Actually his back didn't hurt at all, but he was sure it would if he were human. "You sleep OK?"

"Yeah, did you?"

He nodded. "It's a good thing, because we've got a long day ahead of us. We'd better figure out where we are and how to get to Bedford."

"Yeah… I hope Gillian and Ralph are OK," Lana said with concern.

"Me, too."

A few moments later they emerged from the shack, concluding from the position of the sun that it was probably late morning. They consulted the map and figured that they had wandered somewhere north of Langdon, in the general direction of Bedford.

They set out. At noon, they stopped briefly to drink from a small stream, which helped for their thirst but did nothing to soothe their growling stomachs. Clark figured neither of them had been away from civilization this long without any supplies or anything. He wondered how Lana was holding out, especially with her wound. He inquired about her often, but she always gave him a reassuring smile and said, "Clark, I'm fine."

They rode well into the afternoon, stopping when they found a lush clearing and a large stream. "Oh, thank God," Lana commented. "A bath!"

"My sentiments exactly," Clark agreed. They dismounted and stood at the side of the stream, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I'll turn around while you go in," Clark suggested. "Then you turn around while I go in."

"Deal," Lana agreed. He turned his back, waited several seconds before she spoke again. "Uhh, Clark?"

"I'm not peeking!" he said quickly.

"That's not what I meant." She sounded embarrassed. "I, um, need you to unlace."

"Oh." Red-faced, he approached her and nervously unfastened the laces on the back of her bodice. "Done."

He turned around again. A fly buzzed in his face, and he swatted it away impatiently. While he did so, his head turned to the side a little, and he caught sight of Lana out of the corner of his eye.

Oh, God. He knew he shouldn't look, but he just couldn't help himself. His eyes were riveted to her as she eased the bodice and chemise from her shoulders, sliding it down past her slender waist and over the graceful curve of her hips. The fabric skimmed her round, firm bottom and whispered over her shapely legs before falling in a pool at her feet.

He whirled around quickly, heart hammering. Jeez, what the hell was wrong with him? He didn't even have the self-control to keep from sneaking a peek while bathing in a stream?

"OK, your turn!" Lana called a few moments later, submerged past her chest in the stream.

Clark disrobed hastily and slipped into the safety of the water, still shaken up over what he'd seen. The water was cool, which was fortunate considering he was very much in need of a cold shower. He tried to act natural as he went about the business of washing. Neither of them looked at each other or spoke. They went through the same procedure upon leaving the stream as entering it, but this time Clark kept his eyes well away from Lana.

Once they were dressed and on their way again, they came upon a small house. "Hello?" Clark called as they approached. "Anyone home?"

There was no response. A closer inspection confirmed that the house was uninhabited, and would be as good a place as any to spend the night.

"We should reach Bedford tomorrow evening if we make good time," Lana said, consulting the map.

"Cool." Clark preceded her into the house. It was barely more than a hut, just one room with a makeshift hearth. There was no furniture. Looked like he and Lana would be huddling together for warmth again tonight. The very thought made his body tighten and hum with what would undoubtedly be unfulfilled anticipation.

Man, we need to get to civilization soon, he thought. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

Night fell over the hut, which kept them surprisingly warm and dry. Lana found a bucket and went to the stream to fetch some water. When she returned, she found a fire crackling in the hearth. "How did you do that?" she asked. "I didn't find any flint or tinder in here."

Clark shrugged. "I guess I got something out of Boy Scouts."

"You were a Boy Scout?" She grinned, trying to picture him in his little uniform.

"For about five minutes. Weren't you a Girl Scout?"

"For about five minutes."

He laughed, turning back to the fire. Some of the tension from this afternoon seemed to have dissipated. There had been some awkwardness at the stream, for more than the obvious reasons. The truth was she'd done something she wasn't too proud of.

It wasn't like she'd intended to peek. She'd just lost her footing in the stream, stumbled, and as she straightened up just happened to catch a glimpse of him. He had already shed his shirt and stood with his back to her. Her eyes eagerly drank in the spectacle, all smooth skin and lean muscle. She watched as he unfastened his hose, then the leather belt that held up his braies. She wasn't quite ready for what she saw when he dropped those. Dear God, the man was beautiful! She took in his muscular, sculpted legs and a firm behind that no amount of clingy hose could do justice to…

Fortunately, she'd turned around before he caught her. Even now her face burned at the memory. What was wrong with her? She couldn't even bathe in a stream without sneaking a peek?

"Another night sleeping on the cold, hard ground," Clark commented, drawing Lana's thoughts back to the present.

She joined him in front of the fire. "I know… but you have me to keep you warm."

"True." His arm slid around her, pulling her against him. Lightly he traced his fingers over her bandaged side. "Has it been bothering you?"

"Not too much."

"I'm glad." He sighed, stirring the loose strands of hair on her shoulder. "I should've protected you better."

"You saved my life. Isn't that good enough?"

"What can I say? I'm a perfectionist."

She smiled, turning to gaze up at the familiar planes of his face. If possible, he looked even more beautiful in the firelight. "Why don't you kiss it and make it better?"

Obligingly, he bent and brushed his lips across her bandage in the sweetest, most tender gesture she'd ever seen. But he didn't stop there. He moved higher, kissing her neck, her throat, the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck. She gave a soft sigh, letting her head fall to the side as she surrendered to his ministrations. Then his lips found hers in a soft, achingly sweet kiss, which soon deepened and sizzled with latent, stirring passion.

He pulled her on top of him, kissing her deeply, his hands skimming the curves of her body and burning her skin through her gown and chemise. She straddled him, running her hands over his broad chest, frustrated by the fabric that separated them. Their tongues met and tangled in an erotic dance. She felt the bulge in his tights pressing the vee between her thighs, and nearly gasped with the intensity of the sensation. Dear God, she didn't want to stop. She wanted to touch, to feel, to be as close to him as she could. She wanted to lose herself in him, to lose the fear and pain and horror of the day in the bliss that was rapidly taking over.

"Clark," Lana whispered, her breath caressing his neck. "I want to be with you tonight."

"You are," he whispered back.

"No… I mean be with you." She swallowed nervously. "I want you to make love to me."

He looked startled. "Wh-what?"

"I know you want me." She kissed his neck, delighted with the shudder she felt move through him. "We almost did it twice… after the homecoming dance… on the battlements… I'm ready this time. I know it."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "You want it to happen like this… with me?"

"With no one else but you." She began unlacing his tunic, dropping a kiss on every inch of newly exposed skin. "Don't you want me?"

"Oh, God… you have no idea how much."

"Then I'm yours." She pulled back the neckline of her bodice, revealing Isolde's charm gleaming against her fevered skin.

She saw his Adam's apple bob and knew the last of his restraint was slipping away. She seized the opportunity and kissed him, sliding her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth while grinding her body sweetly against him. She was filled with a delicious, tingling excitement, a yearning beyond anything she'd felt before. She couldn't wait to give in to it. Couldn't wait to re-ignite the passion they'd felt on the battlements and see how far it would take them.

She saw the hunger in his eyes as his mind lost the battle with his body. He hauled her against him, captured her mouth in a rough, taking kiss that robbed her completely of her breath and her senses. She'd never seen him this way before! But she loved it. She responded in earnest, arching against him, her breasts pressing wantonly against his broad chest while her fingers buried themselves in his silky dark hair. She heard the low rumble in his throat and felt a tug as he undid the lacing on her bodice. They scrambled to a sitting position, where he stripped off his tunic and undershirt before getting to work on her bodice. He accomplished the task remarkably quickly, bending to drop several kisses on her neck and shoulders that burned like little flames as he slowly eased the fabric away.

A soft sigh issued from Lana's lips as Clark's hands moved sensuously across her skin, over her arms, her hands, her stomach. He paused upon reaching her wound, skirting around it to cup her breasts. She gasped at the feel of his hands upon her skin, the hands that had so swiftly and harshly dealt with enemies now touching her with such gentleness, such reverence, as though she were precious. Her nipples puckered and tightened as he traced them with his thumbs and then lightly pinched, sending waves of erotic sensation all through her.

His hands eased back down to her waist, over her hips, pushing the gown further down. She shifted and pulled the cumbersome fabric away from her. She rose to her knees, still in front of him, his breath hot against her neck as his hands blazed a path down her stomach to the sensitive juncture between her thighs.

She moaned softly as he parted the soft, delicate flesh, touching her carefully, tentatively, until his fingers found the phenomenally sensitive spot that seemed to ignite under his touch. Jolts of hot, shockingly sweet sensation lanced through her, left her trembling and scarcely able to breathe. Where the heck did he learn this stuff? "Good God, Clark," Lana whispered. "What are you doing to me?"

"You like that?" he whispered back.

"Yes… oh, yes…."

He continued to please her until she went limp against him, her breathing quick and shallow and her limbs about as steady as rubber bands. He quickly dispensed with his hose and braies before he bore her down onto the floor, his eyes finding hers in the firelight. They had glazed over with passion and need, just as hers had.

"Lana," he said hoarsely, "I want to make this good for you, but I don't think I can last much longer."

"It is good for me," she said breathlessly. "Do it now, Clark… I want to feel you inside of me."

He moved above her, settled himself between her thighs. "I'll try not to hurt you…"

"You could never hurt me," she whispered back, with a soft smile.

His mouth took hers in a deep, drugging kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he slowly eased himself inside of her. There was pain, but it was quick, and soon receded into the most incredible pleasure she could possibly imagine. She began to get used to the feel of him, his rhythm, and moved accordingly. Waves of blissful, unbelievable sensation rode through her with every silken stroke, spiraling higher and higher into a dazzling crescendo so intense, so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed her. Her nails dug crescent-shaped marks into his shoulders as she arched toward him, crying out his name. Her muscles tightened around him while exquisite tremors wracked her body. His release came soon after, every bit as intense as hers, and then they both held onto each other as they gradually spiraled down.

"I wish I could've given you something better," Clark said, when they both caught their breath. "A feather bed… candles…"

"Clark, if you gave me anything better, I'd probably be dead," Lana said with a smile. "It was perfect… just perfect."

She kissed him softly, snuggled even closer to him. "I didn't… hurt you, did I?" he asked.

"A little. But it went away fast." She regarded him slyly. "I think I'll be all right for Round Two."

He arched an eyebrow. "Round Two?"

"Well, yeah… I would think a powerful warlock would be down for another round, you know?"

"You might regret that," he teased, rolling on top of her and parting her thighs with his knee. "I'll show you just what powers I have."

"Bring it on," she whispered, before he captured her lips in a kiss that banished any semblance of logical thought from her mind.

It was going to be a long night.