Seger, Maura (19 page)

Storm grinned, reaching for a shrimp wrapped in deep-fried noodles and stuffed with sweet chestnut. "Impotent."

"That's it." She shook her head dazedly. "I can't believe I was so gullible. I'll bet you've never had that problem in your life."

"On the contrary. I find myself with precisely that affliction right now."

Erin laughed sympathetically. Considering the erotic excesses of the last few hours, he could hardly be blamed for needing a rest. Her body glowed with radiant fulfillment and her eyes sparkled with wonder at the marvelous discoveries she had made. From the tip of her toes to the top of her head, she felt at once content and elated. The world was suddenly an enchanting place, full of delights she had never before even imagined.

With Storm as her patient, loving guide, she had wandered down glittering pathways of pleasure leading to rapturous fulfillment. His skill was endless, his desire unbridled. Together they had explored the ultimate in ecstasy, waking from exhausted sleep to make love again and again.

His concern that they might be overdoing, given her recently virgin state, vanished before her ardent longing. Even so, he never lost sight of her needs and responses, always being absolutely certain that he was not hurting or frightening her in the slightest.

Such gentle coaxing brought its own reward. As the night owls hooted in the pine trees outside and the full moon dipped into the indigo sea, Erin reveled in joyful celebration of her womanliness. Enthralled by their intimacy and by the rapture she could give him, she left the last of her girlhood behind without regret.

By the time the flaming sun rose above the mist-shrouded hills, she was transformed into a woman of infinite passion and tenderness, capable of both giving and receiving the ultimate in loving union. Storm's woman.

A tiny satisfied smile curved her mouth as she thought of that. Just a short time before, she would have bridled at the idea of belonging to any man. Now she gloried in it, knowing that he was as much hers as she was his.

One of the best parts of their loving closeness was that she felt secure enough to ask him things that would have once been unthinkable. Blushing only slightly, she said, "Do women always recover more quickly from lovemaking than men?"

Storm nodded ruefully. "Unfortunately, they do. That seems to be one of nature's little jokes. We men like to think ourselves the stronger sex, but in truth you women have the edge when it comes to sheer stamina."

Propping himself up on an elbow, he gazed at her across the small expanse of down-filled mattress separating them. "Some men refuse to believe it, but a woman's capacity for pleasure is far greater than ours. As I think you have already discovered."

His teasing gaze deepened her flush but did not convince her to desist. "That hardly seems fair."

"Oh, I don't know. There's a great deal of satisfaction to be had simply in giving pleasure. In fact, when a man and woman truly love each other, their intimacy doesn't have to be restricted to sexual expressions."

Erin could hardly deny her interest in that provocative statement. Beneath the thin quilt, her body stirred languidly.

Storm watched her with tender amusement. He reached out a hand to gently trace the curve of her cheek down along her alabaster throat to the scented hollow between her breasts. The quiver that ran through her made him chuckle.

Drawing her closer, he nibbled gently on an earlobe as he murmured, "You enchant me. Was there ever a more delightful woman?"

The soft purr that broke from her seemed to be all the answer he required. Slipping an arm beneath the cover, he wrapped it around her slender waist and turned her onto her stomach. Erin gasped as he pulled the quilt back, baring her to his gaze.

Before she could move, Storm had straddled her, his hair-roughened thighs holding her firmly in place beneath him. "Relax. Believe me, you'll enjoy this."

Placing both hands along her spine, he pressed in slowly and firmly, manipulating the sensitive nerve endings just beneath the surface of the skin. Gradually drifting downward toward the dimpled curve of her buttocks, the deep, relaxing massage made Erin moan. Carefully applied pressure trod a fine line between pleasure and pain. Shocked by the intensity of her response, she tried to stop him. But Storm would not allow her to move.

His big hands grasped her shoulders and the nape of her neck, thumbs moving in deep, circular motions. By the time he turned her over, Erin was far too limp to protest further. She lay docilely beneath him as he kneaded each separate toe, the calves of her legs and her thighs. Pressing his palms into the fiat plain of her abdomen just above the cluster of dark curls he had explored so thoroughly, he smiled devilishly.

"Stop looking so aroused, Erin. This is a strictly therapeutic massage called
Shiatsu.
The Japanese acclaim it for its healing benefits."

"Among other things," she groaned, unable to repress the undulating waves of pleasure spreading through her. Her nipples tautened as her breasts swelled temptingly.

"As nearly as I can figure out," Storm continued huskily, "its major effect is to banish fatigue and restore certain energies."

"Hmmm."

"It certainly seems to work well."

Following the path of his eyes, Erin laughed softly. His claim that she had worn him out was no longer valid. As his manhood rose hard and urgent, she opened her arms joyfully. They tumbled across the bed, far too eager to allow for long, drawn-out lovemaking.

Grasping her narrow waist, Storm lifted her above him. She had barely a moment to wonder what he intended before he lowered her slowly, inch by inch, onto his maleness. Erin's head fell back, her lips parted in a cry of aching delight.

Enthralled by the power he gave her to move as she chose, she relished the feel of him inside her. Her steadily increasing rhythm made Storm groan. His eyes narrowed to quicksilver slits, his breath coming in harsh pants as she brought them both to an ecstatic culmination shattering in its intensity.

Passion spent for the moment, they fell back in a tangle of arms and legs. He laughed throatily as he cradled her head against his sweat-dampened chest.

"You make me feel like a randy youth again. How did I manage to get along without you all these years?"

"I can ask the same myself. It seems as though everything that has gone before was only a dream. My life has at last begun, here in your arms."

Storm's arms tightened around her. "Our life together, my love. For now that I have found you again, I will never let you go."

He paused, wondering if she would object to his unbridled possessiveness. If she did, he would have to find some way to bring her around, for he could not conceive of existence without her. She had become as necessary to him as air and water. Perhaps more so, for the lack of those things would bring only physical death, while the very survival of his soul seemed to depend on her.

But far from protesting, Erin delighted in the knowledge that she was necessary to him. Nonetheless, she was still not prepared when he matter-of-factly announced, "As soon as the political situation calms down a bit, we must see about getting married."

"M-married . . . ?"

"Yes, of course. You didn't think I had anything else in mind, did you?"

Tilting her head back, he read the silent admission in her clear blue eyes. Storm shook his head in amazement. "You did. You actually thought I would be content to have you as my mistress."

"What else could I think?"

"Yet you still agreed to come here."

Erin smiled unrepentantly. "I suppose after the way I behaved last night, you must think me a shameless hussy."

"Not just last night. I seem to recall you working your wicked ways all morning."

"Too true. I'll just have to repent and reform."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Storm assured her. He cupped her head gently, drawing her close for a long, tender kiss. Their bodies entwined languorously. Cradled in his massive arms, Erin drifted off to sleep, a contented smile following her into her dreams.

"Are you sure you are not angry with me?" Odetsu asked the next day when Erin at last bestirred herself to venture into the garden. She found her friend gathering fallen pine cones, which would undoubtedly end up in delicately artful arrangements around the house.

The Japanese woman looked so genuinely concerned and contrite that Erin could not help but laugh. "I'm sure," she admitted ruefully. "You did me a great favor and I thank you for it."

Odetsu smiled in relief. She had thought that morning as she heard Davin-san whistling when he went off to join Takamori that her instincts had been correct. But it was good to know for sure.

"I am pleased that you are happy," she said shyly. "In such difficult times, people must find all the joy they can."

Erin nodded somberly. Although Storm had said very little to her about the progress of efforts to overthrow the shogun, she had the impression that the crisis was coming to a head.

All morning men had arrived at the house, coming in quietly through the back door. Most were Japanese, but a few were Western—men like Storm who wanted to do whatever they could to prevent widespread bloodshed. The low rumble of their voices reached her as she went about her own tasks. They sounded tired and worried, but undeniably determined.

Watching her, Odetsu saw the sorrow that darkened her eyes, and she wondered at its source. Softly she said, "Takamori has told me of the terrible civil war that ravaged your own country. I know that Davin-san was caught up in it, but were you also?"

"Not as much as he. Many of the people in the South, where he lived, lost everything. In the North, where my home was, we were more fortunate. But I still saw much suffering and death. It is bad enough when such things happen between people of different countries, but when brothers fight each other, it is terrible beyond belief."

"There was a time here in Japan when the daimyo warred almost constantly. That is how the shogun came to power. The people were so tired of violence that they were willing to accept the rule of one man, no matter how tyrannical."

"But conditions have changed now, haven't they?" Erin asked. "The coming of the Westerners saw to that. With men like Takamori traveling outside the country and being exposed to different ways, it was inevitable they would bring great reforms to their own land."

"The shogun does not consider it inevitable. He is fighting against every effort at change. It doesn't seem to matter to him that we are in danger of losing our ability to determine our own destiny. He is living in a fool's paradise, yet that does not make him any the less dangerous. Even those who most despise him admit that he is wily and clever."

"But so far he has done little to stop the reformers," Erin pointed out. "Didn't he even offer to resign a few weeks ago?"

"He did more than just offer. In the presence of the emperor, he signed what was supposed to be a document yielding all his powers to the throne. But it was only a formality. Neither the emperor nor the royal court is in any position to actually administer the country, which the shogun knows full well. He did it just to throw his opponents into disarray, and to some extent he succeeded. That is why Takamori had to come here to confer with other reform leaders. They must decide what to do quickly or the shogun may succeed in destroying them."

"So I am right in thinking the situation has become critical?"

Odetsu nodded, her delicate features tense with concern. "Takamori and Davin-san believe the shogun intends to take some action to precipitate the crisis. It is only a question of how soon he will act. Tomorrow, the next day, next week. Surely it will not be very long."

Gazing down into the stone pool where small light-gilded fish swam lazily, Erin shivered. The last scarlet leaves were falling from the branches of the miniature maple trees scattered throughout the garden. The wisteria arbor was bare, leaving only the skeleton of bleached wood embraced by sere vines. A chill wind blew out of the north, carrying hints of the snows that would soon descend from the peak of Mt. Fuji to envelop the land.

Her eyes closed reflexively on the image of a world smothered in white and stained blood-red. Odetsu was right: joy was precious and must be held tightly lest it slip through careless fingers and vanish into the maelstrom of great events.

A sound at the edge of the garden penetrated the dreary fog of her thoughts. She looked up to see Storm coming toward her. The golden light of late afternoon cast shadows over his rugged features, making him appear uncustomarily weary and vulnerable.

Rising quickly, she met Odetsu's understanding smile with her own. Moments later she was in his arms, sheltered by the enchanted circle of their love, which, strong though it was, could not quite conceal the tempest about to engulf them.

Chapter Thirteen

"To the samurai," Storm said quietly, "His sword represents his soul. He won't speak of it to strangers, much less let them see or touch it, except in battle. If he does show the sword to an honored friend, the blade must be handled only indirectly, with a cloth wrapped around the hand."

Erin nodded unenthusiastically. She was happy enough to accompany Storm on his errand to the swordsmith, simply because she enjoyed being with him under any circumstances. But she would just as soon not dwell on these reminders of both her own near-death and the violence that might soon descend on them.

Yet she could not deny a certain fascination with what she quickly realized was far more than simply a means of enabling warriors to hack each other to bits. The forge they visited bore no resemblance to the blacksmith's she remembered from home.

A low cluster of wood-and-tile buildings surrounded a meticulously clean yard. Young men in neat, somber kimonos hurried about their tasks. They spoke rarely, and then in the low, reverent tones of temple acolytes. The apprentice who admitted Storm spoke no English. But in response to Storm's fluent Japanese, he bowed to him deeply, concealed his surprise at Erin's presence and led them both to a small hut half-hidden by a bamboo overhang.