A little introduction before the next chapter: this fic is named after a rather old russian song performed by Alexander Serov. In my opinion, it's a hymn to love for all time. It goes like this:
You love me, fiercely, proudly, tenderly.
The sky of fate is spreading the wings like a soaring bird
You love me, it has been tested by my pain
I know you won't abandon me or betray me under torture
Oh, it's a miracle! You love me!
His hands, his lips everywhere. Insistent, dictating, demanding, accepting no refusal or objection. Who is he imagining at this moment? Who is his need so strong right now? What made him so greedy and impatient? Whose image was now in his mind? Helen? Deborah? Just an abstract woman capable of satisfying his immediate male desires, which neither a blow on the head nor the cold water of Dover had cooled?
For a few seconds, Barbara was numb. She was not prepared for this. It seemed that if she were in a fight with two knife-wielding criminals, it would be easier for her. At least in that case, she would know exactly what to do - desperately defend herself. She didn't know what to do with Linley, who had suddenly become inexplicably tender and passionate. However, it was probably the same thing to defend herself, except not so fiercely, because he had already been through a lot in life.
Anyway, she should stop it, and she should stop it now.
This is unacceptable! It was not what he was doing, but how she was feeling.
For how long she had denied his manhood and paired with it her womanhood. She had trampled it in herself as ruthlessly as the butt of her last cigarette before quitting smoking.
All crickets know their place," her mother used to say. Barbara had often heard this wisdom from her as a child and had learnt it well. She knew her place! Being with him, Barbara knew her place from the very beginning. She had set her own boundaries, and she kept them strictly. Even on those rare occasions when Linley himself persistently tried to break them. As if with chalk on asphalt, she had drawn invisible lines between them again and again. To agree to come to the Manor to celebrate his and Helen's engagement - yes, perhaps! To start calling him by his first name - oh, no!
Perhaps that was why she had stayed with him longer than any of his other women. They came, they went, she was always there. They got him for a couple of short evenings and rare weekends, they were the ones he fell into slumber with, she was the one he spent his days with.
She had done her best to be what he needed - a professional, dedicated partner, later an equally dedicated friend. But no more! She'd never allowed herself to allow herself the thought of the possibility of anything more between them. It was absolutely impossible. So impossible that she couldn't even imagine it. She couldn't, and she didn't want to. She sincerely believed that the special, strong relationship of trust and friendship that had developed between them over the years was worth much more than a fragile ephemeral feeling between a man and a woman.
But it so happened that it was a woman he needed now, and that woman he was persistently looking for in her. And it was giving birth to the woman in her. Her body, feeling him so close, instantly forgot about all the prohibitions imposed by her mind. It reached for him, responding greedily to his every touch. She wanted to close her eyes, to surrender to his hands, to let herself believe for a moment that this passion and tenderness were meant for her. She ached to let her hands be free.
A strange question popped into my mind: what did others experience with him? Did every touch of his hands and lips turn them upside down?
With difficulty, Barbara managed to shake off the fog that enveloped her and slip out of his embrace. With embarrassment, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind:
- You're prickly, sir!
His cheeks, his cheekbones, his chin, were blue-black because of the stubble on them. He didn't usually do that. Barbara knew he always kept an electric razor in the bottom drawer of his desk for emergencies.
Even though the dark circles under his eyes were as rich in colour as his stubble, she thought to herself as she looked at him that she couldn't think of anything more perfect even if she tried hard enough. With him she began to believe in God again (for only He could create something so perfect from her point of view). With him she was beginning to believe in aristocracy. And it's not clear which was more surprising.
- Barbara! - he said her name quite distinctly, pulling her insistently to him again.
The world tilted violently, like a ship's cabin in a violent storm. She wouldn't have been surprised if the cupboards were falling on her now.
What is this?! A mirage in her wilderness of despair and loneliness? Or has he come to his senses and is no longer delirious? But then why did his hands reach for her again so insistently?
For a second, a traitorous thought crept in: give in to him.
But at once her memory promptly brought up a phrase which was stamped into her memory and which instantly sobered her up (as if she had been doused with an ice-cold bath of water):
- What do you expect? That he'll actually give you something out of gratitude?!
Oh, no! It had been a long time since she had counted on anything. She has lost the ability to count on anything. She has almost lost the ability to pray and believe. She's lost the ability to ask. There was a time when she had asked a lot, bargained, begged, but had not been heard, since then she had not thought of asking. It wasn't that she didn't want to... She'd just learnt how to do it. But it had been replaced by another skill - she had learnt to be patient, clenching her teeth tightly together. And only in special moments of mental despair she raised her eyes to the sky, and from somewhere in the depths of her soul a barely audible "God!" would involuntarily burst out. She did not know what she was crying for. Mercy, perhaps. Just mercy.
Not so long ago, at a street fair, an obnoxious peddler had tied a knot of red thread around her wrist and urged her to make a wish, promising that it would come true. Then she honestly tried, but could not. She had forgotten how to wish and dream. That same night, she snapped that thread. She has something to get up for in the morning. She has nothing more to ask for.
With all her strength and the despair that had built up in her, Barbara pushed him away again.
- Yes, what the hell is the matter with you!
She was determined to end this madness.
- Oh, I even know what you're going to advise me now - get some sleep and rest," he grinned.
There was a certain bitterness and annoyance in that grin of his.
He took a few steps away from her and rubbed his eye sockets painfully.
Barbara looked up at him in surprise. The dark eyes looked quite meaningful, though they had a painful glint. The old Linley had returned? Could one exhale in peace?
- It certainly wouldn't be unreasonable, sir. For both of us.
- No amount of rest and sleep will get rid me of it.
He shortened the distance between them again, and Barbara felt a surge of anxiety. After what had happened only a few minutes ago, Lynley's proximity made her nervous. Even more unnerving was the partial lack of clothing on him. It wouldn't hurt to do a wardrobe inspection and find something dry and warm for him.
- Anybody but me? Isn't that right, Barbara? - A wry grin appeared on his lips. - It's not because I'm not your type. On the contrary.
- You're damned presumptuous, sir," she tried to fend him off with a joke.
It didn't work. Lynley knew how to be persistent when he wanted to be. He was also very clever and perceptive and had cracked a dozen criminals in interrogation.
- I'm damn right! You can't even call me by my first name. Let alone touch me. It's like I'm a leper. God forbid a single brick in the wall you've so lovingly built around yourself moves.
- I don't think this is a good time for that kind of talk, sir. We should go get help. Thompson and Tanya.
- To hell with them! - Lynley shouted irritably. - No-one's going to survive out there in a storm like this...
He pointed his hand towards the window.
- I really don't know what's got into you... It must have been the blow to the head. There must be some clothes for you in the cupboard upstairs. I'll have to go upstairs and look for them. And then.
Barbara tried to get round him, but he blocked her way.
- You're not going anywhere until we're finished.
- Well. All right.
She rolled her eyes mockingly, showing that she wasn't thrilled at the prospect, but she still obeyed his will.
She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, unaware of the way the movement stretched the fabric of her T-shirt and emphasised the shape of her breasts.
- You don't go out on dates and look at other men anymore. Why?
- Sir, you're forgetting yourself! This is not an interrogation!
- Answer me!
- I realised it was completely pointless. They all have one big flaw.
- What's that?
When Lynley cornered her, she was honest. With him, and with herself at the same time.
- They're not you, sir.
His broad smile, full of masculine triumph, made her heart plummet. Not often lately had he smiled so genuinely.
- And how can you explain it?
- A habit, a need," she answered quickly, as if she had tried to find an explanation for it before.
- That need is called love, Barbara...
He tried to touch her face with his fingers, but Barbara recoiled sharply, as if a flaming torch had been held to her. She could not bear the tenderness that was written on his face.
- Suppose... Maybe. Like brother and sister.
- Noooo! My thoughts are hopelessly far from brotherly right now. You know what I think about when I look at you? I think about what you'd be like if you were in bed with me... I'm sure that despite all your primness and shyness, with me you'd be tender and passionate...
She hadn't realised what a knot could twist in her lower abdomen, not from his touch, from his words. She bit down on her lower lip until it hurt. Her body burned, but her mind still resisted.
- With all due respect, sir, you're talking rubbish!
- Don't do this to me, Barbara. I nearly went mad thinking I might lose you.
I couldn't bear the look in his eyes.
- Oh, well. all right! - She rubbed the bridge of her nose irritably with her fingers. - You want to be honest?! Then listen! - She jabbed her finger at his bare chest. - In all these years, it never occurred to you to look at me as a woman. I was anything: a partner, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, but not a woman. You saw a woman in your friend's daughter, but not in me. Anybody but me. Isn't that right, Lynley?! I don't meet any of your standards. And you know what? I don't blame you one bit! It's really impossible. That's why you shouldn't even start. It'll ruin everything. And I- I can't stand it. I can't do it without you!
- Barbara...
She shoved him in the chest, pinning him back against the wall.
- You bloody bastard! I've been slowly dying without you every day for all these six months. And you've been pushing away...
She wiped the unsolicited tears from her eyes irritably. Everything that had happened to them lately had made her more vulnerable, the familiar armour slowly falling away.
Grabbing her, he pulled her back into a tight embrace, the kind of embrace she couldn't break free from. She didn't try.
I felt that I must punish myself, must suffer, must mourn her... - Closing his eyes tightly, he touched the top of her head with his lips. - I knew that if I let you come near me again, everything would fall into place, my suffering would end, it would take you a couple of days to heal me. I am infinitely guilty to her and to you. I arrogantly thought I was above it... Above all these thoughts of titles and class prejudice. In fact, they were so deeply rooted in me... That prevented me from seeing and understanding... You are a thousand times better than any of my standards and ideals. I never imagined that such a thing was possible. I was afraid to reach out and touch it. I was afraid I wouldn't be allowed to...
Holding her by the shoulders, he pulled her slightly away from him to look into her eyes.
- Barbara?
- I'm sorry, sir, but it's really impossible. We have to get out of here. Please!
With a slight nod of his head, he signalled that he had heeded her request, with his teeth clenched tightly together.
- Have you found the car keys?
- They're nowhere to be found, sir," she said with obvious relief in her voice. Barbara was glad that the precarious equilibrium had been restored and now she had a chance to return to the more practical tasks she understood.
- It's a long way to go, we should wait out the weather for a while. And you're right - we could both use dry clothes.