Liz Fielding - Wedded in a Whirlwind

‘We’ll hear them,’ she stalled, not wanting to move.

The pool was unbelievably beautiful. There were ferns growing where the water splashed on to the rocks. Tiny blue flowers, epiphytes growing in the misted air and huge ivory lilies that filled the air with their scent. Trees bearing berries that looked good enough to eat…

It felt untouched, new.

‘You know those people, centuries ago, wasting all that time and energy building huge stone temples had it quite wrong.’

‘They did?’

‘You don’t need stone to make a temple. This is the real deal. The sky, the earth. Fruit and flowers…’ She stopped, her eye caught by a flash of shimmering colour as a dragonfly skimmed the pool. ‘Water.’

She scooped up another mouthful and then, realising that it wasn’t enough, she sat up and reached for her shirt buttons.

‘Miranda? What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to immerse myself. Soak in the water through my skin. And then I’m going to indulge in a little cleansing ritual of my own.’

Her fingers were stiff and awkward and she doubted they’d be up to the task of refastening them, but she’d worry about that later. For now, her only goal was to totally rehydrate herself. Be clean.

Her bra proved more difficult and she turned her back to Jago.

‘Are you going to just lie there and watch a woman struggle?’ she demanded. Before he could make any kind of move, the hook gave way and she peeled it off, tossed it aside. She’d revealed the darkest secrets of her soul to this man, her body was nothing…

Jago could not take his eyes off her as she stripped off her clothes, transforming herself without a hint of self-consciousness into Eve, before she stepped carefully down into the clear water of the pool. Standing for a moment, as if soaking it up, before kicking off to swim across to the waterfall.

The water streamed from her shoulders as she stood up, turning her pale skin to ivory satin against the jet of her hair. And then she turned and looked over her shoulder at him and said, ‘This is an equal opportunities cleansing ritual, Nick. There’s plenty of room for two.’

‘C OLD ?’

Manda turned as Jago’s broad shoulders emerged from the water to stand beside her beneath the waterfall.

He was lean, sinewy. There was nothing pampered or soft about him. No spare flesh. Lean, hard, with something gaunt, hollow-cheeked about the face that reminded her of an El Greco saint.

‘Not now,’ she said, and it was true. He did not have to smile to warm her, but when he did it was as if he’d switched on some internal central heating.

‘Liar,’ he said, ducking his head beneath the shower, dragging his fingers through his hair to shift the dust. And as he bent she saw the mass of purple bruising darkening his left shoulder, his shoulder blade, under his arm.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched him.

‘Miranda,’ he warned, straightening.

She took no notice but flattened her palms against the bruises as if trying to possess them, take them back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry-’

‘No!’ He turned to face her, grabbing her, shaking her a little. ‘You didn’t do this, do you hear me? It just happened. If I had dislocated it, broken it, if I had died attempting to save you it would not be your fault.’

‘I know,’ she said. And she did. ‘I just wish I had something to make to better.’

They were close.

The water was cold, but Jago was not. ‘There is something,’ he said, lifting her from her feet and moving her closer so that there was nothing between them but a film of water that was rapidly heating up. ‘Your warmth, Miranda Grenville. And, now that I can see it, your smile.’

She was smiling?

Actually, washed clean, with his body this close to hers, why wouldn’t she be smiling?

‘You want another kiss-it-better kiss, Nick Alexander Jago Jackson? Is that it?’ She didn’t wait for his answer. Her mouth was level with his shoulder, inches from his poor bruised skin, but, as she leaned into it, he backed off.

Startled, she looked up. ‘Not this time,’ He said. ‘This is an equal opportunity healing ritual. I’ve been keeping count and it’s my turn.’ And, with his gaze fixed firmly on her mouth, he lowered his lips to hers.

She watched it happen in slow motion. Seeing everything. The sunlight filtering through the canopy sparkling on the drops of water clinging to his hair. A petal drifting from somewhere above them as the air stirred. Heard the beat of wings. And then she slammed her eyes shut. Saw nothing. Heard nothing. All her senses channelled into one.

Feeling.

His lips barely touched hers-no more than a promise-before moving on to the delicate skin behind her ears, her neck. His tongue traced the hollows of her collar-bone while his fingers eased across her shoulders, the nape of her neck and she discovered an unexpected erogenous zone. That bones truly could melt.

This was not a kissing-it-better kiss. Manda might not know much, but she knew that. This was a make-the-world-go-away kiss that drew from her soft purring sighs that didn’t sound like any sound she’d ever made in her entire life.

He kissed every part of her, bringing life flooding to her breasts, blowing softly into her navel as he laid her back in the water to expose more of her body to his lips. Keeping her safe with one powerful arm as he took the concept of kissing-it-better and lifted it to an entirely different plane.

Then, with her shoulders nestled into the soft moss of the bank, she drew him to her, telling him with every touch, every murmur that she wanted more and he gave her himself so completely, so selflessly, waiting and waiting for her, that afterwards she lay in his arms, tears of gratitude in her eyes. Reborn. Renewed.

‘Are you hungry?’ He asked as they lay on the grass, recovering.

‘Starving. Shall we be greedy and eat all the mints?’

‘I can do better than that.’ He got up and swam across the pool to the waterfall and then began to climb up the rocks to pick the berries that grew there.

‘Be careful,’ she called out, more nervous now than in the bowels of the temple. But she hadn’t been able to see the danger there. Hadn’t been able to see him. Or that hideous bruise.

He just smiled and turned, but she couldn’t bear to watch and she decided to get dressed.

She recoiled from her underwear and instead slipped into her trousers, then pulled her shirt over her naked skin. Unfortunately, her fingers and the buttons didn’t want to co-operate and she was still struggling with them when Nick returned.

‘Give me your hands.’

‘I just need to-’

‘I’ll see to it when we’ve eaten. Here, take them.’ He tipped a handful of berries into her hands. ‘I’ve no idea what these are, but they’re very high in sugar. The locals dry them and use them for long journeys.’

She tried one. He was right, they were sweet. ‘They’re very good,’ she said, holding them for him to help himself. ‘But then I’m so hungry that deadly nightshade would probably taste good right now.’

‘Try a little brandy with them.’

‘This is a picnic? We can finish it off with the last of the mints.’

After they’d eaten and washed their hands in the pool, they lay side by side, just letting the sun warm them, saying nothing. What was there left to say? They both knew that what had happened had been the final act in a drama that had overtaken them.

Except, of course, for the elephant in the room.

It was Nick who finally broke the silence.

‘Miranda-’

She rolled over, putting her fingers on his mouth before he could say the words. ‘You’re safe, Nick. That’s the first time for me in ten years.’