wcEND.rtf (45 page)

Isabel's eyes teared up. Hunter believed her!

"
The chalice is the catalyst of my being here," Isabel said. "The chalice, your wish, mine, and
Détra
's. I think, in fact, that you have wished me into life." She laughed a little nervous laugh.

"If you are not
Détra
......" he started. "But if this is her body, men how do you not possess her memories, her feelings?"

Isabel didn't know how to explain metaphysical matters to a medieval man, especially when she wasn't an
authority on the subject. All she could do was tell him what she believed had happened.

"Even though when you look at me you see Détra, it is my mind and my sou
l
—
I
sabel's mind and sou
l
—
t
hat reside inside. My essence, not hers. Therefore it is my feelings, my memories, and my emotions that govern her body. Without the soul the body is only an empty vessel, Hunter."

"And where is
Détra
......soul now?"

"In my body in the future ..."

Hunter shook his head. Isabel wasn't sure if in denial or just stunned at the mind-boggling truth.

"I know it is difficult to comprehend. I guess it is easier for me because I know who I am. But I swear to you, I am telling you the truth." She touched his arm, and this time he didn't flinch. Encouraged, Isabel continued, "It was I, Isabel, who made love to you, Hunter. It was to me that you told your deepest secrets. And it is I who loves you with all my heart, mind, and soul."

He stared at her for a few moments, then pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tight she could barely breathe, but she didn't complain. She wouldn't complain even if she passed out for lack of air, for she needed to feel his arms around her, to hear his heart beating so close to her, to be with him. For only God knew whether they had the rest of their lives together or on
l
y this very day.

"Isabel," he whispered against her hair.

The sound of Hunter's voice saying her name for the first time was Isabel's undoing. She sobbed against his shoulder, unable to stop.

"I believe you, do not cry. I believe you," he chanted.

Finally getting hold of her emotions, Isabel stepped back from his embrace. She had yet to tell him the worst part.

"What?" he asked, obviously noti
cing she wasn't fin
ished with her story. "Is there more to this tale?"

She nodded.

"Deus!"
He paced the room for a moment, then sank down on the garment chest, patting the empty space beside him. "Come, sit by me, and tell me all."

She complied. "Détra is stuck in the future."

He took a moment to digest the information. "Is she harmed?"

"I do not know. The future is a very different place, Hunter. I am not sure Détra is capable of adapting to such drastic changes. Think of huge machines flying in the sky, carrying people from one place to another. Think of being able to speak in a small box and hear a person's voice from the other side of the world. Think of carts moving about without horses. These are just a few of the changes Détra would have to adapt to."

He took a moment to digest her words. "Will those things harm her?"

"No, but it is the acceptance of those things that worry me."

"You adapted well here, even though it is obviously much different from your time."

"Well, I had some knowledge of what a medieval time would be. It is a matter of record in the history books. Détra does not have the same advantage. To her everything wi
l
l be utterly incomprehensible."

He frowned. "What is
medieval?"

"That is how this time wil
l
be known in the future."

He nodded. She sensed his curiosity. He had many questions in his mind, but he reined himself. "If Détra adapted to the changes, how would she survive there? Do you have kin, husband, father, to care for her?" He gazed at her intensely.

Was he jealous of her past? Isabel smiled. Hunter had indeed accepted she was a different woman.

"I have no husband nor father," she said. "I own my own home and have means to live comfortably. Besides, in my time, a woman is allowed to live her own life. We do not need anyone to take care of us."

Hunter seemed relieved, maybe for more than one reason.
"
Then Détra shall be fine there. I always thought she would rather be on her own than a wedde
d
lady."

"If Détra adapted," Isabel insisted. "She would be fine, but that is not my only concern, Hunter. Despite what you might believe,
Détra
may wish to return home."

"Why would she?" he asked. "Détra hates me, was very unhappy here, complained about having no choices. I think she would not wish to return at all."

"We do not know that for sure, do we?"

"What are you suggesting, Isabel, that we bring her back?"

"If that is what is supposed to happen, yes."

He jerked to his feet. "Surely you jest. After all we have been through together, you tell me you wish to leave me?"

"No." She rose to stand before him. "No, I do not want to leave you at all, but we cannot build our happiness upon Détra'
s
misfortune."

"For al
l
we know Détra is thrilled with the exchange. No husband, no father to make choices for her and means to support herself. I think she has made her choice."

"I cannot take over her life, Hunter, unless I am sure that is also her choice."

"Why would the chalice bring you here if it was not meant for us to be together?"

Good God! Hunter was making this so difficult for her. She wished she could just forget about Détra and take what he was offering her, but she couldn't. Her conscience would not allow it. Damn it!

"I wish I had the answer to that question. All I know
is that we have no right to make this choice for Détra
,
as we would not wish for her to make our choice for us."

"If
Détra
returns, none of us shal
l
be happy."

“That is a risk we must take." He didn't answer her.

"Sometimes we must make the difficult choice because we know it is the right thing to do, the only thing to do," Isabel said.

Hunter thought of all the hard decisions people in his life had to make. His mother's silent acceptance of a doomed love, his father's choice of Scotland above all else, his own choice to never share his sire's name with anyone but his lady wife.
Détra
had bemoaned her lack of choices, and Isabel was forcing him to recognize what he could no longer ignore.

Lightning struck outside, its blinding flash crossing the room, remind
i
ng him of the fateful morning when he had thought the chalice had given him his heart wish. And now he would have to let Isabel go, for if he did not, she would never be happy with him.

And he loved her enough to make that choice.

"We should not delay," she said, lifting the lid of her garment chest and withdrawing the chalice from within.

"What is the haste, Isabel? A few more days would make no difference." He wanted to be with her as much as he could.

"Ah, but it would," she responded. "The longer we wait, Hunter, the harder it will be for us to part."

Hunter took the chalice from her hand and deposited it back where it was, closing the lid.

"Hunter, please, we mus
t
—"

"Soon enough, Isabel," he said. "Soon enough, but not before I make you mine for the first, and mayhap the last time. I shall have that memory of you if I can have naught else."

Gently he began undressing her, slowly removing the layers of her garments, revealing peeks of alabaster skin here and there until she stood gloriously naked before him. She had suffered much lately, had even lost some weight. He wished to protect her, to cherish her, to love her for the rest of his life and never let her go.

What capricious fate would give her to him only to whisk her away?

Without taking his gaze from her he undressed himself.

They stood naked in body and in soul before each other. Stripped of secrets, with naught to hide and naught to fear but their uncertain future. Hunter pushed the thought aside. He would think of naught else but of Isabel in his arms. He lifted her hair, settling it behind her shoulders, the curls cascading over her back like a sun-kissed waterfall. He cupped her face and kissed her, nibbling at her lips, teasing with his tongue, burning in his mind and heart the sight and taste of her.

He kissed her chin, her throat, slid his lips over her sensitive shoulders. She moaned in response. So responsive, so trusting of him, so loving.

His hand cupped her breasts, squeezing them, teasing her nipples to peaks, then his mouth settled on a breast, suckling, licking, tasting to his heart's content. He continued down on his pleasurable journey to paradise.

He nudged her legs apart and, grasping her soft buttocks, he licked her hot center, savoring the taste of her. Her hands burrowed in his hair, urging him on
,
and then she lifted one leg, setting her foot on the garment chest, in sure acceptance
.
Her hips undulated against his mouth, and when he thrust a finger inside her, she convulsed with pleasure. As her cries softened, Hunter withdrew his finger and mouth, rose, and lifted her onto him, burying deep within her
.

Her cries began again, and as their mouths met, her
legs embraced his hips, and he began to thrust. And as he felt his seed rushing into her womb, he cried out her name against her mouth. How could he live without her?

Hunter sank to his knees, still inside of Isabel. And he knew that he would never love another.

"I love you," he whispered in her ears. "Not your body, not my dream of you, but you, Isabel."

She trembled in his arms. "I
l
ove you too, Hunter,"

He remained inside of her, holding her to him, postponing the inevitable moment of truth.

Another flash of lightning streaked the bedchamber. The weather outside was turning into a violent storm.

Isabel looked at Hunter. "It is time."

He rose, bringing her up with him, then slowly withdrew from her. And Isabel never fel
t
so bereft. He walked to the table, filled a bowl with water, picked up a rag, and returned to her. He cleaned her gently, she did the same for him, and then they got dressed.

They did not speak but moved like automaton
s
—
u
nfeeling machines to the outside world, a burning mass of emotions inside.

Isabel picked up the chalice. Hunter found his place and moved her to where she should be. They would have everything exactly as it was. And yet nothing was as it was.

"I shall not wish for Détra
's
return," Hunter said. "And
I
shall not wish for you to leave me."

"We must wish for what is meant to be, Hunter. If our destiny ends here, then we shall have our memories."

"I want you to know that I shall never love another."

"I want you to be happy."

"
There wil
l
be no happiness without you."

She understood, for she felt the same. "Then we must make the most of our lives. But I ask you not to blame Détra for what happened. We are all responsible."

"You are a better person than I am, Isabel. For if I knew you could live with your conscience and still remain with me, I swear I would have no qualms in keeping you."

"No, you would not. You are a good person, Hunter. You are worthy of any woman's love. Never forget that."

Isabel lifted the chalice and Hunter reluctantly set his hands on it, motioning her to put hers over his. The warmth came swiftly, traveling from her fingers up her arms and her body. The blues stones glowed, and the blue mist began to appear. Isabel looked at Hunter and saw her own fear reflected in his gaze.

She returned her attention to the chalice, to the mist. It swirled between them and an image began to appear. She waited impatiently, for this vision looked different than the one they had seen the first time around. In it, Détra appeared in the future, in Isabel's body. At least Isabel assumed it was Détra, but it could as easily be Isabel. Mounted on a horse, she stood outside the ruins of Windermere Castle. There were other people around, construction workers. Isabel realized the castle was being restored. A man wearing the hard hat that engineers and architects wore in a site walked to the woman on the horse. She bent over her mount and kissed him, then smiled happily at him.