Chapter Twenty-Four
It rained that night. Langdon castle was typically cold and breezy, utterly silent save for the wind whispering through the battlements and the soft murmur of rain. But it all went unnoticed by Lana as she snuggled contently against firm warmth of Clark's body. She had sneaked into his room, unable to abide by spending what might be their last night here anywhere but with him. After spending the last twenty-four hours thinking he was dead, she wanted nothing more than to hold him, be near him, to be constantly and indisputably aware that he was indeed still alive. That once again, he had defied all odds and saved her. That nothing, not prophecies or evil barons or even their own lies and fears would tear them apart again.
As they lay tangled together, spent but sated in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Lana found herself oddly reluctant to leave behind this place where the strange had gradually become the familiar, where the perilous and bizarre world in which they found themselves turned out to be, in a way, a blessing in disguise. Not that she was particularly fond of the idea of spending the rest of her life in the Middle Ages. But had she and Clark not been transported back here, would they still have found their way back to each other? Thinking back to where they were before, going to class at Kansas U, trying to avoid each other while he lusted after a beautiful college coed, seemed so far away and long ago. Another world, another life.
Well, technically it was.
"Clark?" Lana murmured, glancing up from where her head rested on his muscular shoulder. "What do you think is going to happen when we wake up?"
"I don't know." He looked down at her, an errant dark curl falling across his forehead. His curls were getting long and unruly, seeing as he hadn't bothered to visit the village barber the entire time they'd been here, but there was something rakishly endearing about it. "If your vision is true, I assume we'll wake up back in our own beds."
"I suppose… and believe me, I'll be glad to see my room again." She sighed, snuggling even closer to him. "But then, I won't be next to you."
"Yes, we'll switch from sneaking around castles to sneaking around my loft."
She laughed. "Ah, the advantages of having a boyfriend with his very own loft. It's more privacy than most teenagers get."
"True. But then, the Talon has its possibilities, too… provided it's closed."
"Clark! I never knew you could be such a bad boy," Lana teased, grinning slyly. "And no red meteor rocks in sight, either."
In the silvery moonlight, she swore she saw a blush steal across those impeccably chiseled cheeks. She loved that. "Of course," she continued, "there's always your truck."
"Yeah… I imagine it wouldn't be too comfortable, though."
"I know, but come on… vehicular sex is like, a rite of passage. You've got to try it once."
"That sounds like something Gillian might say."
"Actually, it is," Lana admitted. "Gillian is very serious about these things. She said she really wants a roll in the hay before leaving Kansas. It's like a requirement after spending so much time in the Midwest. Of course, where she'll find someone to take that roll with, I don't know."
"I imagine she won't have much trouble."
"No, I don't imagine she will," Lana agreed.
"I think there's more to her than it seems… after she's had her fun, I think what she really wants is to just fall in love."
"Yeah… I get that impression, too. You know about the guy she left behind in England, right?"
"Yeah. I wonder what will happen with them."
"You never know… look at us."
"True." He smiled down at her, that smile that never failed to melt all logic and reason away like ice cream on a summer day. "Even if we did have to go back in time 800 years to get back together again."
"I wonder what will happen to Lianne and Kendrick once we leave," she murmured.
"Well, whatever happens to them, I hope they'll have their happy ending." He lightly trailed his fingers along the small of her back, the touch both tender and electrifying at the same time. "I know we did."
"And it's about damn time." Grinning, Lana closed her eyes as Clark captured her lips in a deep, achingly tender yet stirringly passionate kiss. Her hands came up to grip his shoulders as she sank deeper into the kiss, opening willingly for him as his tongue eased into her mouth and stroked against hers in a slick and sensuous dance. She was surrounded by him--his smell, his touch, his warm breath and soft lips, hair that slid through her fingers like silk and skin that whispered against hers like warm velvet. Love and want and need entangled in an intoxicating cocktail. It was a heady sensation that defied description, eclipsed anything else she'd ever felt before or even dreamed. This was what she'd never known, been yearning for before she even knew what it was. Love. Completion. Consummation.
Clark's hands were everywhere, skimming the curves of her body, cupping her breasts, sliding across the flat expanse of her stomach to the sweetly sensitive spot between her creamy thighs. Lana arched toward him, pressing herself against his hand, her sex already throbbing and wet and ready for him. Lord, he could set her off with barely a touch. This was insane. This was amazing.
Her eyes found his in the darkness, deep green orbs that had darkened with a passion only she had ever seen. All for her. Only for her. "I love you," he whispered.
Words she'd heard before, dreamed of many times but could never truly allow herself to believe. They'd seemed so empty before. But not now. "I love you, too," she whispered back.
And he kissed her again, deeply, possessively, claiming what was his. Just as he was hers. In a smooth, continuous movement, he kneed her thighs apart and slid inside of her, burying himself to the hilt in her slippery warmth. Her insides closed around him, painfully tight, achingly sweet, her soft pulsations threatening to send him over the edge right then and there. It was too much, too much.
And yet not enough.
"Will we remember this when we go back?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"I don't know." His voice was a tender caress. "I hope so… but if not, that doesn't change the fact that I'll always love you. We'll always find our way back to each other."
"Even across time?"
"We've done it twice."
"Third time's the charm." She smiled up at him, trust and love and hope shimmering between them, unencumbered by secrets and lies. All that was over. This was perfection--this moment, this love, this man. How could something like this ever last?
Yet, as she gazed into the vibrant depths of Clark's eyes, Lana knew that it would. Forever. She saw the promise reflected in his eyes, felt instinctively that he was thinking all the same things she was. And then all semblance of rational thought rapidly faded away as she gave herself over to the waves of blissful sensation, and he began to move.
Lana awoke to a sound she hadn't heard in weeks—the rumble of a car engine outside her window.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she realized with a striking wave of relief that she was indeed back in the Sullivans' house, in her own bed. A glance at the clock radio showed her that it was 7:30—time to get up and get ready for school.
And, to her relief, all the memories of her adventure in time were still intact. In fact, her body still felt pleasantly tender and a bit sore, as it always did after nights with Clark. He's got some abilities, all right, she thought coyly, although given her lack of any previous experience, she didn't really have anyone to compare him to.
It was striking how everything was the same, as though she'd never left. A glance at the newspaper sitting on the Sullivans' front steps alerted her that it was the day after the last one she, Clark, and Gillian had spent in the twenty-first century. It was jarring trying to get back into that routine, trying to remember events that transpired weeks ago as though it had been just yesterday. But she had to admit she'd never been more grateful for the conveniences of the modern world, namely plumbing, electricity, and clothing.
She was at her locker when her cell phone went off. The display on the LCD screen alerted her it was Gillian. "Hey, Gillian, what's up?"
"Not much… just glad to be back home again."
"Seriously. I never realized how much I appreciated the conveniences of the modern world. Nothing like going back in time 800 years to give you a new perspective."
"Word. I got some insight the anachronistic society couldn't imagine," Gillian joked. "Not to mention that we've got some great sources for our report."
Oh, yeah. "We're still doing the tapestry?"
"Yup. So after school, you and Clark want to meet up at the library?"
"Sounds good to me. I'll let him know."
She was just hanging up when someone came up behind her and strong arms wrapped her waist. She smiled, nestling contentedly into the familiar embrace. "Hey," she said, craning her neck to smile up at Clark.
"Hey," he replied in that low, ridiculously sexy voice of his. "It's great to be back home again, huh?"
"I'll say. I never realized how comfortable jeans where."
"At least you didn't have to figure out how to fasten your hose and braies to your belt and tunic."
She laughed gently. "At least you didn't need someone to help you dress… and undress."
"Hmm, if I recall properly, I was more than happy to do that service."
"I just bet you were." Exchanging a sly secret smile with him, she leaned up to meet his lips in a soft, playful kiss. But Clark drew it out into much more, pulling her to him as the kiss deepened and intensified to the point that people walking by were turning to look at them.
"OK… apparently we missed something here," a wry female voice spoke up, jerking them out of their reverie. Mildly embarrassed, Clark and Lana turned to find Chloe and Pete looking at them with question marks in their eyes.
"Good morning, Chloe, Pete," Clark said, sounding ridiculously chipper.
"Yeah, apparently you two are having a really good morning," Chloe said dryly. "So tell me, when did you get back together?"
Lana shrugged, hoping her face wasn't as flushed as it felt. "I don't know… it just sort of happened, you know?"
"In the span of one night."
"Well, yeah… a lot can happen in one night." She couldn't help it—she sneaked a discreet glance at Clark.
Unfortunately, it did not go unnoticed by the unfailingly perceptive Chloe. "OK, too much information," she declared, looking vaguely nauseous. Pete, on the other hand, seemed barely able to control his amusement. Fortunately, the bell rang and saved them from a potentially awkward moment.
"I'll walk with you to homeroom," Lana said to Chloe, then turned back toward Clark and Pete. "See you guys later. Oh, and Clark? Gillian just called. She wants us to meet her at the library after school."
"That's cool." They exchanged "see yas," and the girls headed down the hall. Clark didn't use his super hearing, as tempting as it was, but he swore he heard Chloe say, "OK, Lang. Spill it. I want details. OK, well maybe not some details…."
"Hey, those details she doesn't want? I want 'em," Pete said, grinning.
Clark's face turned almost as red as his plaid shirt. "I'm not sure the lady would appreciate it."
"The lady?" Pete raised his eyebrows. "You two are taking that medieval class far too seriously."
"Sorry, reading Chaucer all night," Clark explained disingenuously.
"So you and Lana are back together again, huh?"
"Yeah… I guess with all the time we've been spending together for that medieval class, one thing led to another."
"I thought you were into Gillian."
"I was," Clark admitted, "for a while. You have to admit, she's hot."
"Oh yeah," Pete agreed wholeheartedly. "So, seeing how you're off the market now, does that mean I have permission to go for it?"
"Knock yourself out," Clark joked.
"Think you could arrange an introduction?"
"Sure, I guess. I'll talk to her at the library this afternoon." He grimaced. "I am so not looking forward to writing that paper." Although suffice to say Middle English was no longer a problem for him.
Pete shook his head. "Man, I wish I had your problems… being locked in a private study cubicle with two gorgeous women for hours."
"Trust me, it wasn't that much fun in the beginning."
"Yeah, but all's well that ends well."
"True," Clark acknowledged, smiling to himself. Very true, indeed.
"All right, I think we're ready," Gillian declared, shutting the musty textbook with a decisive slap. She, Clark, and Lana had labored all afternoon on their project, and were more than ready to call it a day. Besides which, being stuck in such close quarters for hours without being able to do anything about it was driving Clark and Lana crazy. When they went to the stacks to fetch a book and didn't return for several minutes—without the book—Gillian didn't say anything, but the knowing look in her eyes was enough.
As much as it embarrassed the couple in question, Gillian was remarkably understanding about it. "Hey, you guys want to get a bitter at the campus pub?" she asked as they gathered up their books. "It's on me."
"Thanks, but we're not 21," Clark reminded her.
Gillian shrugged. "They never check ID. Besides, I know one of the guys who works there. I'll order a pitcher and no one will be the wiser."
Several moments later found them seated at a table in the noisy pub, splitting a pitcher of Newcastle and a large order of fries. "So I wonder what happened to Lianne and Kendrick," Lana mused.
"Oh yeah, I meant to tell you," Gillian said. "I spoke to my father last night. He just finished going through Christopher's memoirs. Apparently, there's a passage he never noticed. It was written by Lianne."
"It was?" Instantly Lana was at attention.
"Yeah. It tells about what happened with Kendrick. While the events immediately following his supposed death remain vague—although we know the truth," she mentioned wryly, "It says that they met again. My father couldn't find anything else to explain how it happened—just that the account he previously read must've been erroneous and that Kendrick didn't really die—but anyway, following Blackwood's death, Lianne fled to France. But before she left, Kendrick did meet up with her again to say goodbye."
"Goodbye? Where did he go?" Lana wanted to know.
"Back to wherever it was he came from, apparently. He told Lianne he had a destiny to fulfill back home, or something like that. She begged him to take her with him. He said he could not. It wasn't fair to her, for he could never give her the future she deserved. He wasn't a part of her world, just as she couldn't be a part of his. He had to fulfill his destiny alone. It was all very mysterious."
"I'll say," Lana murmured, stealing a glance at Clark, who suddenly seemed very interested in a fry he was holding.
"But—and this is the supremely romantic part—he vowed that someday, in another time, another life, they would be together. He said Lianne's wise old friend—the witch Isolde—assured him of this. Isn't that totally like something out of a movie?" Gillian gushed.
"Yeah," Lana said quietly, smiling. "It is."
"Maybe Isolde was right," Gillian said, glancing from Lana to Clark. Lana wondered how much Gillian knew about Clark… if she still suspected he had special abilities, although she seemed to think they were supernatural rather than extraterrestrial.
But one thing Gillian was dead-on about was the happy ending. "I wonder if that's what she meant," Lana mused.
"Well, if it was, I trust you two won't do her wrong," Gillian remarked with a grin.
"Not if we can help it," Lana agreed, reaching out to rest her hand on Clark's.
"Man, you two are so cute, it's almost nauseating," Gillian kidded. "But you two inspire me, you know? Maybe there really is hope for the rest of us."
"There's always hope," Clark told her, giving Lana's hand a reassuring squeeze. The two of them had proven that.
And they didn't intend to ever put it to the test again.