Lord of Lightning (11 page)

A private smile stirred as Lise remembered her first meeting with Stephen. She was too much the hard-headed realist to believe in fate, and yet if she hadn’t picked that gimpy cart, they might never have met. He’d made a powerful first impression—hair the color of winter sunshine, eyes like deep space.

She turned back on impulse, intent on stealing another glance at him—only Stephen was nowhere to be glanced at. She scanned the pike and then the entire room, but there wasn’t a sign of him. He was gone! Julie and the kids were so intent on making a railroad car “levitate,” that Lise hated to interrupt them, but her curiosity wouldn’t be stemmed.

She pulled Julie aside quietly. “When did Stephen leave?”

Julie looked around, obviously unaware that he had. “Beats me,” she said, mystified. “Must be another of his magic tricks—the vanishing act.”

They both laughed, but Lise was still perplexed. If he’d needed to leave, why hadn’t he said anything? Why disappear? Especially when she was just beginning to think of him as a regular guy. She needed a second opinion.

“What did you think of him, Julie?” she said, aware for the first time of her assistant’s starry-eyed smile.

“Me? I think you should hunt him down and marry him immediately,” Julie blurted in a soft burst of laughter. “He’s not only majorly gorgeous, he’s brilliant.”

Lise was astonished. “Are we talking about the same guy that you thought was here to repopulate his planet?”

“If that’s what he’s here for”—Julie flashed a quick little salute—“sign me up.”

Stephen was parked in his black Land-Rover across the street from the school when Lise left that afternoon. He watched her walk to the parking lot, appreciating her steady, graceful gait and the way her breasts swayed beneath the blush tones of her sweater.

He liked her, he realized. That probably wouldn’t have surprised him if he hadn’t been so totally absorbed by the physical attraction raging between them. Somehow he’d missed the heart of her, the essence. His chest tightened and the unexpected reaction made him draw a breath. She was the quintessential schoolteacher, devoted to her kids, generous to a fault with her time and energy. He liked her strength and self-reliance. He liked her incredible warmth.

The only thing that puzzled him was why she wasn’t married to some adoring guy and raising a passel of kids. She did have one hell of an independent streak, he decided, smiling. Maybe that explained why suitors weren’t lined up at her door. Their loss, he thought. They obviously didn’t know what he knew about her ... that underneath her buttoned-to-the-neck blouses and efficient manner lay a fantasy,
an abandoned fantasy.

As her Cordoba sailed past him Stephen hit the ignition key and pulled out, following her at enough distance so that she wouldn’t be able to make him out in her rearview mirror. He was counting on the fact that she would be heading home. Lise Anderson didn’t strike him as a woman who went out dancing after work. But then there were many things he didn’t know about her.

A short time later she pulled into the driveway of an older two-story home with a shingled roof and an expansive front porch. There were camellias in the front yard and bramble roses climbing on green latticework. The place was right, he thought.

He watched her let herself out of her car, straighten its lopsided hood ornament with a quick tap, and walk to her porch. That was right too. As she disappeared inside her house he smiled again and pulled the keys from the ignition.

Shady Tree’s schoolteacher wanted to be abducted. He would try to oblige.

Lise undressed slowly, with an altogether different sense of herself than she’d ever had before. She felt alert and aware, responsive even to the air around her. If someone had told her her skin was glowing, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

She pulled her sweater over her head, folded it with practiced care and deposited it in a lilac-scented drawer in her dresser. Just as children’s laughter gave her comfort, it gave her ease of mind to know that everything was in its place. She felt as though she was contributing a little bit of order to a disorderly world.

Had she gained weight? She considered herself in the mirror as she kicked off her woven leather flats, then unzipped and slipped off her skirt. Her breasts were spilling out of her bra, but her hips still looked fairly trim. Lord, but she felt ripe, like a peach about to fall off the tree.

When she was naked, she glanced at herself again. It was something she never did, and a faint tingling raced across her shoulders and down her arms. Her breasts flushed and peaked, and her thighs felt tight. There was also a telling moistness in her nether regions that made her vaguely uneasy, but she rather liked the rest of it—the tingling, the vibrancy.

A jangle of bells surprised her. Someone was at her door.

She quickly slipped a white eyelet nightgown over her head and grabbed her matching robe, wondering who it could be. She never had unannounced visitors.

There was no one there when she opened the door.

“Lise ...”

The voice had come from her left. As her eyes darted over the porch she saw Stephen Gage sitting on the railing near a large, clay-potted Dieffenbachia. He was wearing the same jeans, red flannel shirt, and leather jacket he’d worn to her class that day. Even in the falling light, his eyes were blazingly blue.

Lise caught her robe together. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping for something more like ‘it’s great to see you, Stephen. Why don’t you come in?’”

She glanced at the Dieffenbachia as though for protection, absently aware that something was wrong with the plant. The bottom leaves were yellowing and wilted, even though she’d just watered it. Pot bound? she wondered, distractedly.

“Lise? Are you going to invite me in?”

“I’m not
dressed.”
She met his gaze reluctantly, knowing what she would see there ... shadings of quizzical humor, of intimacy, very male. “All right, so you’ve seen me wearing less,” she admitted. “It’s still a little awkward entertaining in your robe.”

“Then don’t entertain me. Just invite me in.”

Not only was Lise out of comebacks, she wasn’t sure why she was resisting the idea of inviting him in. She wanted him in. At this very moment there probably wasn’t anything else in the world she wanted more. Still, she was apprehensive. He was an unpredictable man, overpowering under any circumstances, and being alone with him was certain to lead to a close encounter of one kind or another.

“Perhaps we could talk,” she said, holding open the screen, “once I’ve changed.”

“I like to talk.” There was a studied casualness about him as he crossed the threshold.

She followed him into the living room with the distinct feeling that she’d just been invaded by the enemy,
at her own invitation.
She couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking as he scanned her carefully preserved furniture with its rich flowery brocades. She’d bought it secondhand.

Stephen wasn’t thinking about her furniture at all, except that, like everything else about her, it seemed to fit. He was still reacting to the effect she’d had on him when she’d opened the door. Wisps of blond had escaped her French braid, and in the white peignoir, she’d looked like a princess bride on her wedding night. Dressed for a fantasy, he thought.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for coming by the class today,” she said, relaxing her hold on the robe’s drawstring bodice. “The kids loved it, and you really boosted morale. We might even have a shot at the prize money now, thanks to you.”

He regarded her with interest. “Winning that contest seems very important to you.”

“It is.” Glad of the opportunity, Lise explained about the possibility of the grade school’s conversion to a community center. “I want to show them that the students at Lincoln are learning important things, and
doing
important things,” she said. “Winning a national scholarship couldn’t hurt.”

He seemed impressed with her efforts. “You’ve got the reason and the passion,” he said. “Now all you need is some luck.”

“I think
you’re
our luck.” She flushed with laughter as their conversation drifted off into an uneasy silence.

Lise wanted to suggest that they sit. She wanted to offer him something to eat or drink as she would have any other visitor, but this wasn’t a social call, she could tell. He had some specific purpose in mind. “You didn’t come to talk about the science project, did you?” she said.

When he didn’t answer, she persisted, though every reasoning instinct she had told her not to. “Yesterday you said I had something you needed.”

“I did say that.”

“Is that why you’re here ... tonight?”

“That’s part of it.” The setting sun glowed golden in the windows, and his eyes were luminous in the falling light.

“But don’t worry,” he added softly. “I’m not going to drag you into a supply room and ravish you.”

Lise reclaimed the robe’s lapel. “Thank goodness for that.”

“I’ve got something else in mind.”

“You do ...” Her throat went chalky and dry. A throw rug bunched under her bare feet as she edged away from him. “Would you like something to eat? Or to drink?”

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure?” she said, continuing to put distance between them as she backed from the room. “I’ve got some Anjou pears in the cooler. They’re delicious. I’ll get some cheese. And wine.” She reached the archway to the kitchen and waved him back. “Sit down! I’ll just be a minute.”

The Brie in her refrigerator looked a little grayish, so Lise grabbed some crackers to go with the pear slices. A bottle of California chardonnay she’d picked up at the supermarket wasn’t chilled, but she took it anyway.

Whatever he had in mind, she thought, loading up a tray, he would be doing it on a full stomach. Maybe that would slow him down until she could get some clothes on.

The front door was hanging open and there was no sign of Stephen anywhere as she returned to the living room. She called out his name, set the tray on the coffee table, and walked to the door. It was rapidly growing dark outside, and a ripple of alarm moved through her as she scanned the yard. “Stephen?”

She didn’t see his Land-Rover parked out front, and remembering how he’d disappeared from her classroom that afternoon gave her an uneasy feeling of déjà vu. If this was some sort of cat-and-mouse game he was playing, she wasn’t amused. Surely he didn’t think that sort of silliness was exciting to a woman.

She ventured out onto the porch and down the steps, alerted by the soft rustlings in the grove of aspens alongside her house. A sudden breeze fluttered her cotton robe, but she doubted it was the wind making that noise. It sounded more like someone moving among the bushes.

“Stephen? Is that you?”

The small grove glittered with moonlight and shadows. Somehow Lise had managed to reach adulthood with remarkably few fears, but anything that went bump in the night qualified. It was only the niggling doubt that something might have happened to Stephen that kept her moving cautiously toward the trees.

The breeze gusted and the rustle of leaves became an eerie rush of silver thunder. Lise’s senses quickened as she paused at the periphery of the grove. She thought she’d heard a voice through the noise, someone calling her name. “Stephen? Is that you?” Peering into the darkness, she moved along the border of the grove. Each tree seemed to spring to life as the passed it.

The wind breathed her name again and she hesitated, her heart quickening as she turned in the direction of the sound. She scanned the trees and saw the silhouette of a man standing in the heart of the grove. Moonlight cast a silvery nimbus around the darkened form.

“Stephen?” she called.

The silence frightened her. She wasn’t close enough to discern whether it was actually a man, or just a shadow, but it was ominously still. The wind was silent as she edged closer, every instinct heightened. A crackle of sound to her right raised the hairs on her neck. She whirled, and heard someone come up behind her. A shadow fell across her path, and her heart ripped out of control “Who’s there?”

The breezes swirled her hair, and she caught the scent of something familiar, sandalwood.

“Stephen, if that’s you—”

“I’ve come for you, Lise.”

Thunder roared in Lise’s ears, the wild silvery thunder of a thousand trembling leaves. She closed her eyes and the sound filled her senses, cascading through her like water, breathing with her body. It was a lullaby, a symphony driven by brass and woodwinds, and in its clashing closing notes, Lise heard someone speaking to her. Stephen. He was telling her not to be afraid, promising not to hurt her....

“Do as I say, Lise. Do you understand? Do exactly as I say.”

Her breath caught in. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you with me, away from here.”

“Where? Why?”

The wind whistled softly, darkly. It lifted her skirt with breezy, questing fingers.

“You wanted to be abducted—”

“What
... ? I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to say it, Lise. I could see it in your eyes. You wanted to be swept away, transported.”

“No—” Her breath shook in her throat.

“Lise. Do as I say. Take off your robe.”

His voice was low and male, hypnotic. She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out, but the soft command resonated through her. It was as powerful as a physical touch. It probed into vulnerable places, weakening her nerves and calling up all the riveting sensations she’d felt in the supply room. A sweet, frantic helplessness stole over her, and suddenly her heart was laboring in her chest.

“What are you going to do?” she said.

“Everything you want me to do. Everything you’ve ever dreamed about.”

Dreamed
about? How could he know that? She’d never told him her dreams. Her fantasies as a young girl.

“Take off the robe, Lise.”

“I can’t.” She
couldn’t.
Her arms and legs felt like leaden weights. Her heart was a crazy weightless thing, beating somewhere outside of her. She didn’t have the strength.

She felt his hands run down her arms, easing off the robe in one fluid, effortless motion. The dull rip of cotton fabric made her wince as he tore off a strip of material. “What are you doing?”