When Lightning Strikes (6 page)

At the sound of his breath and his clumsy attempts at righting the bowls before they fell, Sarah turned around abruptly.

Chapter Six

Sarah had released her breath in a sigh of relief as soon as he had stepped from the wagon moments ago. She hadn't had much time, but she knew she had to think of something to tell this oaf when he came back with some food. And now here he was, smiling like an idiot as she unwittingly showed him her naked backside!

‘Calm down,’
she thought to herself. ‘
Think. Okay, so he thinks...or at least he DID think you were half senseless from the strike of lightning...... Amnesia...that's it! When he asks where you're from, you can't remember!’

She hoped he would fall for her ruse, since only a short while ago he decided she wasn't out of her mind…or ‘daft’ as he’d called it, after hearing her speak in a rational manner. It wasn't much, but it was a start on her plan for getting back home to her own time. After thinking on it a moment, she decided that maybe it wasn't even close to a plan after all, but at least it would keep her alive until she could think of one! But first there were more pressing matters to attend to. What would a medieval damsel do at a time like this?

It wasn't like he hadn't seen her completely naked before. Lord he'd seen and touched
practically everything she owned but this was a matter of maidenly modesty. So she had to feign outrage. And that was what was bothering her the most at this moment…that she had to feign anything! Because for some reason she didn't mind Dominic seeing her naked caboose or any other part of her, for that matter. It felt so natural to see his seductive smile looking back at her as he watched, no
caressed her
with his eyes.
Oh, God,
she thought.
Get a grip! Now, where was I? Oh yes....

“AAAAeeeeeeee!”
She let out a scream and smiled inwardly quite satisfied that it was blood curdling enough to wake the dead.

Dominic set the bowls down with lightning speed and ran to where she was and quickly covered her mouth with one of his large hands.

“God's blood, woman!”

He deftly slipped a foot behind her knees knocking her off balance and he caught her up in his arms before tumbling down to the bed of the wagon on top of her.

She stared up at him wide-eyed, breathing heavily from both fear and some other emotion she couldn't quite name at this moment while staring at his beautiful face which was now only inches from her own.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head ‘no’ while trying to shift her weight to a more comfortable position beneath his heavy body. He mistook her movement as an escape, and pinned her more securely.

“I am going to remove my hand from your mouth and you will be silent. Do you agree?”

She nodded in agreement and he uncovered her mouth.

She gasped
.“Ow! My god, you have to move…you are hurting my side!”

He nodded and shifted slightly, taking his weight off her injured side, but remaining on top of her.

“Your unholy screeching has no doubt given my men the idea that I have had my way with you.” He stared down at her for a long moment. He could feel her soft curves beneath him and sucked in a ragged breath as he struggled to hold onto his train of thought
.
The image of her long legs wrapped around his waist burned white hot and furious within him right now and he wished he could hike up that shirt and...

He stopped himself before that vivid picture could bloom within his mind's eye.

“You are going to need to stay near me at all times,” he said, very simply.

Sarah was having trouble hearing a word that Dominic was saying. His lips were only inches from hers and she could feel his warm breath on her face with every word he said. His silver-blue eyes sparkled with depth and intensity as he spoke and she thought for just a moment she might fall into them. His teeth were so straight and white. He looked like some kind of model in
a cologne ad or something. Damn. It was unnerving.
Cologne ad?
She almost laughed out loud, since only a short while ago he smelled like he’d fallen out of the back of a garbage truck.

“My lady?
Sarah! Are you daft after all?”

She was jolted back to her senses at that moment by the insistence of his voice. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?” She felt heat creeping into her face.

He rolled off of her in that instant and looked at her as if he wanted to wring her neck. As a matter of fact the idea was beginning to appeal to him.

“Why in God's name did you have to scream in such a manner?!
I did not touch you. I simply drank in the sight of your derriere.”

“YOU had no right to sneak up…” she stopped to think for a second.
Dammit what would be the right expression?
“You sir, had no right stealing upon me unawares!” That was a good one, she had to admit.

“Stealing upon you?” he smirked and shook his head. “I fetched us food and drink and walked back here to the wagon.
My
wagon. It is none of my doing that you were bent over in such an inviting way!”

He stopped for a moment and sighed in frustration.

“Eat. We will deal with them later. I have some questions for you, my lady.”

He handed her one of the bowls of stew and a spoon. It looked inviting and she quickly began to eat. Surprisingly it tasted good!

“You have told me your name is Sarah. Sarah who? Where are you from and who is your family?”

“I fear that I cannot remember.” Sarah kept her eyes averted staring into her soup bowl as she spoke hoping her shaking hands and wavering voice wouldn't betray her.

“You can remember nothing?”  He looked puzzled. She sounded rational.

“Well, I know my name is Sarah. But I am unable to remember from whence I came or who my family might be,” she said, quite proud of herself for her choice of grammar.

He gave her a skeptical look for a second, remembering her saying something about needing to reach her parents and a fiance. Perhaps she was betrothed.

“Sarah. You said something of calling after your parents and a fiancé, if I recall correctly. You spoke of being late for your wedding.”

Swallowing hard and trying to look calm she simply answered, “What? I do not remember saying anything like that. Perhaps my head was still foggy at that moment. Whatever I said, I remember nothing of it. I cannot remember who my family is and if I am betrothed, I can remember nothing of it either.”

She stared at him innocently and apparently he bought it because he sighed heavily and looked a bit worried. She was relieved and secretly happy even, that she was pulling off this language thing authentically enough to be convincing.

“This does not bode well for more reasons than one," he said gravely. "I have heard tell that a strike of lightning could do such as that. It is a miracle you have survived at all. Some would brand you a witch...a dabbler in the black arts to have survived such. My people will not like this at all.”

“I assure you, I am no witch.”

He smirked at her as if she were a foolish child.

“I do not believe in witches. Only your kind would be foolish enough to believe in such things. Many of my own are fortune-tellers, seers and healers. Those of the Holy Roman Church would brand us sorcerers all in the name of their false piety of course, as they themselves practice the true black arts. Drunken rages, fornication, sodomy and ‘healing’ by bleeding or leaches for God's sake! And let us not forget attributing the suffering of man to evil spirits. Oh, and they cover it well as they burn innocents; those who have studied the use of herbs to heal, branding them as witches to cover their own misdeeds and collect their hefty tithes under duress.”

Sarah felt his pain as he spat out the bitter words. These were times of harshness that modern society could not even fathom. Every single day was a struggle for survival. Her compassionate look surprised him. It was not pity, nor the usual contempt. It was genuine.

“I am pleased to hear this,” she offered with a smile, hoping it would reassure him that she was not an enemy.

He looked at her like she was crazy.

“You are pleased to hear of the crimes of the clergy and the sufferings of the provincials?”

She laughed and reached out to touch his hand. “No, no! I meant I am pleased that you do not think I am a witch.”

Dominic stared back into her pretty golden eyes and returned her smile, wondering if perhaps he was mistaken and she was indeed a witch.

He had only known this woman for a day, and she had turned that day in his life end over end. She was going to be nothing but trouble, and she was apparently half witless from being struck by lightning. She could remember nothing of who she was or to whom she belonged and that was going to pose a serious problem if they were to ransom her. He did not wish to fathom how livid his troupe might become when they found out of her lack of memory.

His head was already throbbing with the thought of it all. Other parts were now throbbing as well, as he pictured the lush curves her sweet body held underneath the shirt she wore…
his shirt,
when she lay there beneath him moments ago. He had to wonder if he was under some sort of enchantment after all. And the way she was smiling at him right now did not help matters one bit.

She handed him her empty bowl and his fingers lightly brushed hers as he took it from her. He set both bowls aside and moved in closer to her, turning her to face him. She pushed back away from him, but he moved in even closer pushing her back against the side of the wagon. The intensity burning in his eyes scared and excited her at the same time.

“I said I do not believe in witches. But, I might be apt to change my mind.”

One of his strong hands reached up to touch the side of her face, when suddenly the canvas parted and Marco poked his grinning face in.

“Nico! We heard screams of delight and we figured you were working your usual magic. Always this effect on the women, you have!” He laughed bawdily. "Ah, but I jest. Please take no offense my lady, Sarah. Jean-Paul informed us that he found out your name.”

He parted the canvas further, climbed up and stepped over the edge of the wagon.

“Marco, could you not have given me fair warning of your presence?”

Marco ignored his friend and continued staring at the beautiful woman Dominic had kept hidden from them all.

“Mon dieu, but she is quite stunning,” he said in Norman-French.

Sarah didn't understand a word he said, but she could tell by the smoldering look in his eyes that he was drinking her in and she shifted uncomfortably. That snapped her out of her stupor long enough to remember where she was…pushed back against the side of the wagon with Dominic practically on top of her!

She pushed Dominic away from her and sat up. She stared wide-eyed at the man smiling back at them with mirth in his eyes, this man Dominic had called ‘Marco’.

His hair was dark brown, shoulder-length and dusted with a few gray hairs. A full mustache rested above his thin upper lip and curled to perfection on the ends. His teeth were slightly off center, but they were nice and white and stood out in contrast to his dark skin and black eyes. He was fairly tall and muscular, though not nearly as much so as Dominic. Small laugh-lines framed the outsides of his eyes giving him a certain character, and Sarah could tell he was a man who enjoyed laughing and loved life.

Dominic turned around to face Marco and also spoke in Norman-French.

“Yes, she is, as a matter of fact. And I have found out some other interesting details of her that I care not to share with you now, but we will speak of the situation, privately on the morrow.”

"Interesting? Details? I will be there!"

Dominic loved Marco like a brother. He was his most trusted friend and companion, but he didn't like the heated look in his eye right now and was tempted to knock him right out of the back of the wagon.

He paused for a moment staring at his friend
and shook his head in disgust. He must be bewitched after all. Never in all of his twenty-eight winters had the idea of sharing a woman, especially with Marco, bothered him! They had spent many nights drinking, carousing and savoring the bountiful delights of many a tavern wench or willing maid. What power did this English witch hold over him? He knew not, but it was there and it had his very blood boiling.

He looked at Sarah and back to Marco's heated gaze.

Marco smiled, waiting to see if his friend would invite him to join them. Dominic raised an eyebrow and continued staring back in silence. Marco's smile faded somewhat and he raised his shoulders and shrugged. He turned on his heel, parted the canvas and stepped out of the wagon.

“On the morrow at daylight, Marco,” Dominic called after him.

“Oui!” Marco's voice trailed off into the night and Sarah was left alone once again with Dominic.

Sarah stared at him as he casually lay back down next to her on the blanket, throwing one muscular arm over his eyes. She had to resist the urge to lean over and kiss his lips as he lay there blindfolded by his own arm. She shifted uncomfortably and moved slightly away from him. He moved his arm down and opened one eye.