Chapter Seventeen

Weak sunlight slanted in through the window of the hut, dispelling some of the damp chill that had settled into the air during the night. A fire crackled in the hearth, radiating pleasant warmth against Lana's back as she awoke.

She was alone, her gown and chemise draped over her naked body like a blanket. She sat up slowly. The hard floor did nothing to help her aching back, and her body was sore and tender in places she'd never really noticed before. Not that it wasn't worth it. The memory of her night with Clark came back to her, and a delicate flush warmed her cheeks. They had made love three times, each time more familiar and more comfortable than the last, but no less thrilling—if anything, even more. She felt as if she'd embarked on a journey, eager to find out what new discoveries lay around each bend. She wondered if it would still feel this way when the unfamiliar became familiar, when they'd made love enough times that she knew every curve and dimple on his body and he knew hers. She couldn't imagine ever growing bored with him.

Presently the door opened and Clark walked in, carrying a bucket of stream water and a small sack. A smile illuminated his handsome face when he saw she was awake. "Hey," he greeted her softly, kneeling down next to her.

"Hey," she replied. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back, feeling suddenly shy. "You sure you want to do that? Morning breath…"

"I'll take my chances." He leaned in and she tilted her head back to receive his kiss. His lips felt cool and soft as they brushed against hers, and tasted vaguely sweet.

"I have something for you," he said when they pulled apart. He reached into the sack and produced a small red apple. "Breakfast is served."

"Mmm, breakfast in bed." She bit into the apple, finding it sweet and juicy, tangier than the apples back home. "Where did you find these?"

"There's a tree a little ways away from the stream. I found this sack in here and brought it with me, hoping I'd find something for us to eat."

"I'm glad you did. Did I ever mention that you officially rock?"

"No, but frequent reminders are always appreciated."

She laughed, her lips finding his in a sticky apple-y kiss. One kiss became another, and then another, each a little deeper and more heated than the last. She gripped his shoulders and pulled herself closer, teasing his lips with her tongue until he opened for her. "I'm thinking maybe one more for the road?" she said huskily when they came up for air.

"Sounds tempting, but we should really get going," Clark said reluctantly, pulling back.

"You are too responsible for your own good sometimes, Kent." Lana stood up and scooped up her clothes, oddly unself-conscious about her nakedness. She flashed him an arch smile when she saw him watching her, and he quickly turned away. What was it about him that unleashed the wanton wench within? But she had to admit, it was kind of fun.

She walked over to him, gently touched his back. "That arrow must've hit pretty hard… you feeling OK?"

"Huh?" Suddenly he seemed to remember. "Oh… yeah, I'll live. How about you?"

"Been better. But I'll be all right till we reach Bedford."

"Still, I think we'd better clean up that wound and change the bandage." She complied, tearing a strip from the hem of her chemise for a new bandage. The tenderness with which he cared for her still struck her. She didn't think she'd ever been treated that way before, almost with adoration. But rather than making her feel self-conscious, it just made her feel wonderful. Loved. Cherished. And she didn't want it to end.

As they walked out of the hut, she hazarded another glance at his broad back. He must've had some residual pain… maybe he was just playing the hero for her sake. It wouldn't have surprised her. It was just the sort of thing he would do. Clark hated to look vulnerable in front of anyone. Men, Lana thought. She considered saying something to him, but thought the better of it. He'll come to me in time, she reasoned. Besides, she knew how defensive guys could be when it came to their fragile male egos.

Still, throughout the morning, she could not put the incident out of her mind. Now that she'd had time to calm down and think, there was something not quite right about it. It was only after a few moments of reflection that she recalled something Gillian had mentioned.

Arrows could pierce chain mail.

At noon, they stopped in a small clearing for a midday meal consisting of stream water and the remainder of the apples. It was an amazingly beautiful day for England, in the upper sixties, the blue sky actually visible for once. It was almost possible to forget the death and destruction and mayhem that had torn their lives apart just over a day ago.

As it was, the journey had been almost pleasant for Clark, despite the circumstances under which it was made. He found himself oddly reluctant to end this little interlude with Lana, where real life didn't interfere and all the things that had kept them apart before somehow seemed irrelevant. Watching her now, she looked so beautiful, so radiant, biting into a crisp apple with the juice dribbling down her chin. He couldn't help himself. He leaned forward to lick the sticky juice from her chin. Giggling, she met his lips in a soft kiss, which became another and another… and the next thing he knew, they were making love right there on the soft sun-warmed grass.

They lay tangled in each other for several moments afterward, waiting for the haze of bliss to fade before they resumed their journey. But once the high was over, Clark could not stop a twinge of guilt from darkening his good mood. He'd given in to temptation last night, but heaven help him, with all his abilities self-control wasn't among them. She'd wanted it, he'd wanted it, and he supposed it was inevitable. Not that it made it any less wrong. It wasn't fair to be intimate with Lana, not when he couldn't share the same closeness emotionally as they did physically. Although she didn't say anything about it, he saw the hope in her eyes every time they were together. He knew she figured he'd come to her in time. And would he?

It was something he grappled with every day. Sharing his secret with Pete hadn't turned out so bad. But then, Pete had been his best friend as long as he could remember. With Lana, the stakes were higher. What they had was so fragile, so precariously wonderful, that the very thought of entrusting her with a secret of much magnitude prompted a wave of chilling fear. She'd been endangered so many times on account of him. And yet, she faced it willingly, stuck by his side. How long would it be before she figured out he wasn't what he appeared—if she hadn't already?

"All right, warlock," Lana murmured affectionately, bringing him back to the present. "As much as I hate to say it, it's time we were off."

"I know." Clark sat up slowly. "You sure you're not the one who's a witch? You've got some stamina."

"I might say the same for you. If you don't mind my asking, where did you, uh… learn this stuff?" Her smile quickly melted into a frown. "Wait, maybe I don't want to know."

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Yes, you are."

She scowled. "OK, so maybe I am. A little. Every time I saw Alicia, she had this little smirk on her face like she was dying to jump your bones."

"I assure you no jumping of bones occurred," he told her seriously, then grinned. "You're cute when you're jealous."

"Don't change the subject."

"Well, what do you want me to tell you?" he asked. "That I learned it all from a sacred book passed down through generations of horny teenage boys, like in American Pie?"

"Well, did you?"

"No." Although one sure would've come in handy. "I'm a guy, you know. We, uhh, hear stuff."

"Really." Now it was her turn to be amused at his expense. "Were you studying?"

"Of course not!" His face was rapidly turning the color of one of those apples. "Were you?"

"I'm a girl. I hear stuff," she said mysteriously. "What do you think we talk about, shopping and shoes?"

He held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. "I'm sorry I asked."

"But you're not sorry I learned what I did, that's for sure."

Damn, how did she get to him so? "I'm not complaining."

"Good. Because I might have a few more tricks up my sleeve."

"Feel free to use me as your guinea pig."

She stood up, throwing a crooked smile over her shoulder as she slipped back into her chemise and gown. He stood up, too, getting dressed and then helping her lace up her gown. "You know," he said, "once we're back in civilization, we have to go back to keeping this… thing between us a secret."

Her shoulders drooped. "I know."

He ran his hands slowly along her upper arms, delighted at the shiver that moved through her. "Hopefully, it won't be for long."

"Yeah…" She pulled away awkwardly, making her way back toward their mounts. "Freshman year, Nell took me to Metropolis to see Camelot," she said after a moment. "I always loved that story. I never thought I'd literally find a Lancelot to my Guinevere." She flashed him a dry smile, which soon faded. "There was something so incredibly romantic about a tragic, secret love affair… but living it turns out to be another matter altogether."

"Hey, who said it has to be tragic?" he asked, catching up to her.

"Isolde said fate would tear us apart."

"She could be wrong."

"Has she been so far?" Lana countered. She absently stroked her mount's chestnut snout. "I just… I can't lose you… not again."

"You won't," Clark said firmly. "If anyone can prove Isolde wrong, we can."

She looked up at him doubtfully. "You think?"

"I know." He let his gaze hold hers, wishing he felt the same confidence he conveyed in his voice. But something in his eyes seemed to reassure her, because the look of doubt gradually eased away and was soon replaced by hope. Then she turned away, concentrating on untying her mount's tether. "We should really get going."

The moment broken, he agreed. They rode in silence for the remainder of the afternoon, speaking only when consulting the map.

Evening had fallen when Bedford Castle came into view. It was a large, hulking stone structure, the battlements aglow with incandescent torchlight. Off to the side, the buildings comprising the village stood like squat shadows against the darkened countryside.

Lana had never been so glad to see civilization again in her life. She and Clark rode into the inner bailey, where two squires came out to see to their mounts while a third raced to the Great Hall to alert the lord, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

Clark and Lana entered the Great Hall to find Gillian standing there with Ralph. Gillian immediately rushed over to them and engulfed Lana in a crushing hug. "Thank God you're alive!"

"I could say the same for you." Lana hugged her back. Then Gillian moved on to Clark while Ralph arrived to join in the hugging frenzy.

"I'm so glad to see you, milady," he gushed to Lana, hanging on tight.

"Likewise, young sir."

"We were so worried. I was afraid Gillian and I would run into some routiers, or worse. I was prepared to defend her with my life."

"I'm sure you were."

"Just as Sir Kendrick was willing to defend you with his life."

"Aye… he was," Lana said softly, with a sideways glance at Clark. Meanwhile, Ralph still had his skinny arms about her waist. "Uhh, Ralph? You can let go now."

Gillian rejoined her just as Ralph stepped back. "Lana, you're wounded," the blonde said with concern, noticing the bloodstain on Lana's bodice.

"'Tis only a minor wound. I'll be fine," Lana assured her.

"I could have the physician look at it," a deep voice volunteered.

Lana looked up to find that the lord of Bedford had materialized in front of her. He was a giant of a man, a good six three or four, and would have been imposing if not for his warm expression and kind blue eyes. He appeared to be about her father's age, with gray-streaked blond hair, mustache, and neatly-trimmed beard.

"Thank you, my lord," Lana replied graciously, "but I do not think that will be necessary."

"At least let my wife look at it. She is well-versed in such things."

"I appreciate the offer, my lord. Perhaps I will."

"You know my services are available to you whenever you wish. I am Edward of Bedford," the older man continued. "Lady Lianne of Langdon, I presume?"

"'Tis I." She smiled, warmed by the man's affable personality. "My companion is Sir Kendrick de Montclair."

"Ah, yes. Your reputation precedes you," Bedford said to Clark with admiration. "The lady could not have been in better hands."

Lana thought of the literal meaning of that statement and fought to hold back a blush.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Your kinswoman, Lady Anne, has informed me about Langdon." Bedford's expression became grave. "You may stay as long as you need to. You will be safe here."

"You kindness is much appreciated," Lana told him gratefully. "You put yourself at great risk, protecting us."

"And I do it gladly, if it means opposing Blackwood." Anger crept into the older man's features. "Because of him, my son and my friend are gone. I'll not let him take his daughter as well."

"You are a good man, Bedford."

The lord provided them with a supper, which tasted absolutely heavenly to his guests after days of not eating. Gillian and Ralph explained what had befallen them after escaping Langdon. They immediately headed to the village, which was burning, but in the pandemonium they managed to make off with two horses and escaped into the woods. They rode through the night and arrived in another village the next day. Gillian obtained some boys' clothes for herself—"OK, I stole them off someone's clothesline," she said grudgingly. "But I didn't have much choice, OK? I figured we'd be safer if I tried to pass myself off as a boy." She and Ralph continued riding to Bedford and had arrived earlier that afternoon.

Clark and Lana briefly explained their escape from the castle and subsequent journey, omitting the more personal parts. After dinner, they again thanked Bedford for his kindness before servants escorted them to their respective chambers. Lana and Gillian were to share the room once occupied by Bedford's married daughter, Clark was in Robin's old room, and Ralph bided with the other squires. Lana was acutely aware of the fact that Clark's room was just down the hall from hers, although why it should matter she didn't know. But ever since they slept together, she was aware of him a way she hadn't been before. It was a visceral, purely physical sort of awareness she felt all through her.

Soon after, Bedford's wife, Lady Elisabeth, was brought by a servant to examine Lana's wound. She was a petite, sweet-faced woman much younger than her husband, with dark hair and fair skin. She cheerfully pronounced that Lana needed no stitches, then proceeded to hold a cloth soaked in strong wine to the wound to cleanse it. Needless to say, it smarted to the extent that Lana had to grit her teeth. Lady Elisabeth then wrapped the wound in a clean linen bandage and went on her way.

"Ah, wine, the all-purpose beverage and disinfectant," Gillian cracked once the lady was gone.

Just then, a servant stuck her head in the doorway and said, "Your bath is ready, Lady Lianne."

The bath felt absolutely luxurious. Lana lingered as long as she could, until the servant attending her started knocking on the door. She dressed in the clean linen chemise and hunter-green gown provided by Lady Elisabeth, then returned to her and Gillian's room. She was looking forward to finally spending the night in an actual bed.

A chemise-clad Gillian was combing her hair when Lana returned. "All right, Lana, spill it. What went down on that trip?"

"We told you at dinner," she said evasively, avoiding Gillian's eyes.

"Bollocks. Traveling through the woods alone… spending the night in an abandoned hut…."

"Gillian!" Lana pretended to be appalled. "How could you think we'd be thinking about… that… while running for our lives?"

"Because you're normal, at least as far as I can tell, and have you looked at Clark lately?"

Oh, I have, Lana thought, praying her expression didn't betray her feelings. "Only you would be asking about such things after we nearly got ourselves killed."

"Having your life saved seems to be turn-on for you."

"Gillian!" She was too much!

"Come on… you can tell me," Gillian coaxed. "I wouldn't think less of you… either of you. Being caught in such extenuating circumstances, things happen."

Lana didn't reply. Gillian was right about that.

"You did it, didn't you."

Lana hesitated, then nodded.

"When? Where? Am I asking too many questions that are none of my business?"

"Yes, but I figure you'll eventually wangle it out of me anyway," Lana grumbled. "Last night. In the abandoned hut."

"So what was it like?"

Lana thought for a moment, warmth tingling in her cheeks. "It was… nice."

Gillian frowned. "Nice? That's it? No offense or anything, but it doesn't say much for his abilities…"

"That's not what I meant!" Lana cut in quickly. "He was fine… more than fine, actually."

"I'll bet," said Gillian dryly. "Looks like our Clarkers is a natural at more things than fencing."

"Gilliaaannn," Lana groaned. "Remind me to embarrass the crap out of you next time an opportunity arises."

"If the opportunity is anything like yours, I'll take it."

Lana focused her attention on getting ready for bed. "Gillian?" she asked after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think… once you take this step, it could drive you apart instead of bring you closer together?"

"Why? Is something like that happening with Clark?"

"Not really. It's just… I always feel like there's something he's holding back from me."

"That isn't why you slept with him, is it?"

"No," Lana answered honestly. "I don't regret it. It was what I wanted, what we both wanted. I knew from the start that he might very well be as emotionally unavailable afterward as before."

"And is he?"

She shook her head. "No more than usual."

Gillian thought for a moment, biting her lip. "I really don't know what to say. You two seem so close… like you have this bond, you know? At least that's what it seems like to me. Given your history, maybe he's just afraid. Once burned, twice shy, as they always say."

Lana wasn't sure she was convinced. "That makes sense, but as long as we've been together, he was always sort of… reserved. He's never been one to talk about his feelings."

"Well, maybe that's just his personality," Gillian suggested. "Some guys just aren't comfortable talking about their feelings. Some stupid male ego thing. If that's the case, maybe you shouldn't expect him to straight-up tell you how he feels. If he really loves you, you'll know. I'm getting the impression that when it comes to Clark, actions speak louder than words."

"You think?" Lana asked dubiously.

"Yeah, totally. I can tell that he loves you… just in the way he looks at you, how he treats you, even the things he says, in his inarticulate roundabout guy way."

Lana had to smile at that one. She supposed it made sense. But everything between her and Clark was so complicated. How could Gillian understand that?

"I'm just worried that might not be enough for me," Lana confessed. "At some point, I need to know there are no secrets between us."

"Well, you might be waiting a long time," Gillian said in her typical forthright manner. "It might come down to deciding if you can handle having that kind of relationship with Clark. If it's enough for you, fine. But if it's not, you may have to look elsewhere."

But I don't want to look elsewhere, Lana wanted to say. Why did it always come down to this?

"Sex really does complicate things," she said.

"Tell me about. There was this one guy, Rob, that I knew was bad news, but dang, was he good in the sack."

"You stayed with him for the sex?"

"Well… I'll put it this way, I considered it my consolation prize."

Lana regarded her pensively. "You think great sex might make me blind to the numerous things wrong in Clark's and my relationship?"

"Maybe at first, but it always catches up to you. When I was with Rob, I knew there were serious things wrong with us. It kept me hanging on but after a while, it wasn't enough."

Lana just nodded, thinking about it. She'd been so sure last night, and now… now everything was so much more muddled. She had no illusions that sleeping together would automatically bring them closer. She'd done it because she wanted him, wanted to feel that connection, if only for a little while. But she found herself unable to divorce sex from love, as Gillian seemed to. Maybe it was just her, but she felt as if more than their bodies came together that night. That in the simple act of making love somehow their very souls seemed to merge as one. He now and would always have all of her… was it too much to ask to have all of him in return?

She only hoped Gillian was right. Maybe she was expecting too much from Clark. Maybe the best she could hope for was implicitly sensing the words he wouldn't say. She would wait for him to come to her… and if he didn't, she'd just have to learn to deal.

Because there was no way she was giving him up now. She loved him too much. And if Isolde's prophecy turned out to be right, well, she didn't think her heart could recover.