by Ann Williams
Sammell squeezed their softness gently. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “I have never seen anything so beautiful.” As his hands moved over their softness, he felt the small pebblelike hardness at their center and pulled one hand back to investigate its cause.
He moved his thumb back and forth over it curiously and felt Marina shiver. He looked up into her face and saw that her eyes were partially closed, a slight smile parting her lips. The tip of a pink tongue smoothed her lower lip, and Sammell felt a jolt somewhere inside.
Marina cupped the back of his head and gently nudged his head forward so that his lips were against one breast. Sammell seemed to know what to do without further prodding. His lips opened and the tip of his tongue slid gently across one proud nipple.
Marina’s hands were in his hair, across his shoulders, sliding inside the jumpsuit and moving against his hips. Now she was on fire for him. Pulling his head up to her mouth, she opened her lips over his and pressed her tongue flat against his teeth, feeling them open as she tasted the warm dark recesses of his mouth.
Sammell felt a wrenching in his lower body and pressed her back against the bed, coming down half over her. His hands slid against the smoothness of her belly, and he began to shake and quiver, panting, the veins standing out in forehead and neck. And in his eyes was an expression that Marina had never seen in all her life. She couldn’t describe it even to herself. It was part wonder, part pain, part embarrassment and part of some emotion she couldn’t interpret.
Sammell lay against her, panting, his muscles quivering. Marina felt him stiffen and start to withdraw, his face turned away from her.
“It’s all right.” She smoothed a hand up his shoulder to the side of his face, feeling the bristles of his beard, the fine sheen of sweat on his skin. “It’s a normal reaction.”
Sammell looked at her. His eyes probed hers.
“It’s true, I swear.” Reaching for his hand she raised it to her lips. “Touch me,” she murmured against his palm. “Please…I want you to.”
With her hand over his, she guided it down her chin and neck, between her breasts, across her concave belly to her hip and the inside of her thigh. Drawing his head down to her, she took his lips in an openmouthed kiss.
Sammell was amazed. His body was hardening again, and the tingly, breathless feeling was fluttering in his chest.
Marina pushed at his jumpsuit until it lay around his ankles. “Take it off,” she said.
Sammell did her bidding, still very shy about his body, but Marina refused to let him hide himself from her. She slipped her own jumpsuit down to her ankles, but before she could remove it herself Sammell was at her feet pulling it over her toes.
He just sat there for a moment, staring at her, his eyes taking in the full breasts, narrow waist, rounded hips and long curving thighs. So this is what a woman looked like beneath her clothes.
“Come, lie beside me,” Marina said, patting the mattress at her side.
Sammell lay down, turning to face her, and once again his body was scorched by her heat. He was so disturbed by their nakedness that the muscles jumped in his arms and legs and the muscles in his jaws began to quiver.
Thinking he was cold, Marina was about to draw the blanket over them, but Sammell reached for her.
“I want to feel your skin against mine,” he said unsteadily.
Marina slid a leg over his hips and lay flat against him. “Is this what you want?”
“Oh—yes!” Sammell’s hands moved from her shoulders down her back and up again. But he wanted something more—his body cried out for something more.
“Please,” he whispered, “please… I want… I need—” He broke off and shook his head back and forth against the pillow. There was no name for what he wanted. If one existed, he didn’t know it.
Marina understood. Pushing him onto his back, she moved over him, gently enfolding him in warmth. Sammell gasped, raised his head off the pillow to look at her—at them, joined together as one.
“This,” he whispered, “this is…”
“Making love,” Marina whispered, leaning forward to place her lips over his. For a long moment, she lay against him unmoving, their flesh as one and then she began to move slowly, giving him time to experience each new sensation before a new one took its place, crowding the old one out.
As the kiss deepened, his hands came up to her breasts and then to her face, his fingers tangled in the red curls. Marina began to move her hips in a gentle back-and-forth motion and the man beneath her shuddered, opened his mouth to hers, gasped and reached for her hips to press her tighter against him.
Soon he joined her in the strange rocking motion. The rhythm increased, his hands grasped her hips tighter and his whole body felt as though it was building toward some kind of an explosion. And the sensations were so terrible—so wonderful—that he wanted to slow down and enjoy them, but he couldn’t. Something inside drove him on to greater speed, greater heights of feeling and the need grew inside him. Nothing in his life had prepared him for such an experience. A sound began to grow somewhere down low in his body. It reached his chest and worked its way up to the back of his throat, straining at his vocal chords until it had to be let out.
Rearing up on the bed, clasping Marina to his sweat-slickened chest, his mouth opened wide and Marina bent to press her lips to his, taking the sound from them. Sammell jerked against her, held her tighter and kissed her over and over as his body shuddered and shook in the aftermath of their joining.
When it was over and they lay side by side, he studied her inquisitively. “That is love?” he asked softly.
“That is lovemaking,” Marina answered.
“Can we do it again?”
“Now?”
“Soon.”
“Yes.”
“And will it be like that?”
“Maybe even better,” she promised, resting her head against his chest, the heavy thrum of his heart echoing in her ear.
“Better?” he asked in amazement. “How can it be better?”
“Sammell! Are you awake?”
At the sound of Gissel’s voice, Sammell sat up. “Yes, I am awake. Is something wrong?”
“When you and the woman are ready, we would like the two of you to join us.”
“Give us a little time.”
“You will find a place to bathe at the end of this great hall, where the river flows through the wall. There is nourishment at any of the campfires. Take yours slowly. We will supplement it with an injection until you get used to eating. Afterward, please join us.”
“Where?”
“Where we came in yesterday, you will find an opening on the right. We will be waiting for you there.”
When she’d gone, Marina slipped into her jumpsuit and the two of them went searching for the bathing place. They found a small waterfall and pool in another chamber by stepping through the spot where the river flowed into the cavern. Bars of crude soap and towels were stacked on the rocks near the water’s edge.
The place was deserted. In this new setting Marina and Sammell were shy with each other, but soon got over it, taking turns bathing each other’s back. It was another new experience for Sammell. Only it wasn’t just her back he wanted to bathe.
While they played and laughed among the bubbles, they forgot the seriousness of their present situation. And then Marina slipped on the rocks and Sammell grabbed for her. Together they tumbled into the water.
Excitement coursed through Marina as Sammell’s gaze focused on her lips. Her arms came up around his neck and his lips descended on hers. They sank beneath the water, locked together in a strong embrace.
As Marina had predicted, Sammell was becoming a good kisser. His was a wild and hungry kiss full of passion and need. And as their lips clung together, Sammell became aware of a coiling tightness low in his body. He would have intensified the embrace, but Marina stopped him.
Separating, they floated to the surface, treading water. Sammell would have pulled her
into his arms, but Marina resisted. Pushing the wet hair from her eyes, she said, “It’s too open here. Someone could see us.”
She could see the disappointment in his eyes, but he nodded. “You are right. I am sorry.”
Marina touched his cheek with gentle fingers. “We have plenty of time.”
All the time in the world—two worlds, his and hers. But something in Sammell’s expression reminded her that her days here were numbered and that number was growing smaller all the time.
“Sammell, I don’t want to leave,” she said abruptly.
“We must go. It is time to speak with Darryn and the others.”
“No. That isn’t what I meant. I mean I don’t want to leave here. I want to stay with you—if you want me,” she added uncertainly.
For a brief moment a blinding light blazed in the dark eyes above hers, and then it was quickly extinguished. Sammell turned away and climbed from the water. Wrapping a towel around his waist, keeping his back to her so she couldn’t see his face, he bent to pick up his clothes.
“You don’t belong here,” he said gravely. “You belong in your own time, among your own people. There is trouble here. And I am a part of that trouble. But it is mine—not yours.”
Marina left the pool with a heavy heart. She had been afraid he would say something like that. How could she make him understand that whatever affected him now affected her, too?
They had shared something beautiful and it had bound them together, made them a part of each other in a way that nothing could ever change. Wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped in front of him so that he was forced to look at her.
“I’m a part of this, too. It isn’t only you the people up there are chasing. They want me, too.”
“No. Bartell is looking for me,” he emphasized. “All of his police are looking for me. They want my knowledge and if they have that, they will not need you. This is not a safe place for you. You must go back. Your life can then continue in peace.”
Marina opened her mouth to protest, but Sammell took her hands and pressed them against his chest, holding them there, his eyes holding hers. “I do not want anything to happen to you. It would give me great peace of mind to know you were safe in your own world, going about your daily life. Perhaps, someday, we will meet again—”
“But I care about you,” she interrupted. “We care about each other.” She pulled a hand from his and touched the slight hollow in his chin, smoothed a finger along his eyebrow, down the side of his nose.
“I…” She wanted to say she loved him, but she wasn’t certain he’d understand all that that entailed. “We are one now. Don’t you understand? I can never be happy away from you.”
Sammell covered her lips with his fingers. “This feeling between us is a new thing for me.” He struggled for the right words. “I like it.” His hands tightened on hers and he pressed them harder against his chest. “I would like it to continue, but if anything happened to you—if your life was ended by one of Bartell’s men—I would want mine to end, too.
“This way, if you go back to your own time, I will know you are safe. I will think of you with your family, sitting on the ground beneath a tree, sharing a picnic as we did and that will give me great joy.”
“But…”
“That is the way it must be,” Sammell said with a note of finality in his voice, dropping her hands and stepping away from her.
She knew by the set of his shoulders that further protest would be to no avail. She was being sent home and that was all there was to it.
A little while later they followed the directions Gissel had given them and made their way to the chamber where Darryn and Gissel awaited them. Marina had eaten some fruit before they left the main cavern, but Sammell had taken nothing except a little water.
Stepping through the narrow entrance, they stood facing ten people sitting in a semicircle around a small fire. “I am here,” Sammell announced quietly, studying the ring of faces in the firelight.
Chapter 12
Gissel stood and motioned for Sammell and Marina to take a seat facing the group whose members were evenly divided into both sexes. When they were seated, she resumed her own seat and looked at Darryn.
“You have thought about our invitation?” he asked.
“I have thought about it,” Sammell replied. “I have questions that need answers before I make my decision.”
“Proceed,” Darryn said.
“First, I want to know if you agree to my sending Marina back to her own time as soon as it can be arranged. Second, I want to know if you expect me to take up arms against our people.”
Darryn, who seemed to be the leader of this group of rebels, studied Sammell for a long moment in the flickering firelight before answering. “We do not force our brethren to do what they cannot do in good conscience. We are not like the Wyndom regime. Our people are not divided by disloyalty and fear. We are not one voice. Do what you feel is right for you.”
“That is agreeable with everyone?” Sammell asked, studying each face in turn.
Darryn looked down the row of people to his left and each man or woman nodded in turn. He looked to his right and again each one nodded in agreement.
“You have your answer,” he said, spreading his arms to encompass his companions. “We are all in agreement. It will be as you say.”
“Then I will join you. But I will not raise my hand against another of my people.”
The group rose as one and came forward to greet Sammell and Marina individually. Afterward, Darryn asked them to follow and led them into the large chamber divided by the river.
“This,” Darryn said, “is Great Hall. And these are your people.” He spread his hands as he spoke and people began to emerge from the shadows into the firelight. More than a hundred people soon stood staring at them.
Contrary to the rebels depicted in movies of her time, Marina saw that these people were clean and well dressed. Very few of them wore the standard jumpsuit she and Sammell wore. Instead they wore what was obviously homemade breeches and jerkins that laced up the front.
She was pleased to see that there were several children in the group, but an inspection of their faces surprised her. Unlike the children she was used to teaching, these stood in an unnatural silence watching and listening to the adults, wearing expressions too old for their faces.
“This,” Gissel announced in a loud voice, indicating the pair beside of her, “is Sammell and his companion…
“Marina,” Sammell supplied.
“Marina,” Gissel continued. “They are friends. Welcome them into our midst.”
A roar of welcome came from the group as a whole, and then several individual greetings were called out to them. A few of the people came forward and offered their hands. And everywhere she looked, Marina saw shy smiles of welcome. Her own lips curved in response.
“Look!” someone cried abruptly, backing away from her. “Her eyes! She has the royal eyes!”
“Her hair!” someone else cried, “it is on fire!”
Marina raised a self-conscious hand to her head as a taut silence fell over the throng. She shrank beneath the feeling of bitter hostility directed at her. Did they think her a spy? What would they do if they thought she was one of Wyndom’s people?
Sammell turned to see that her hair had dried since their bath in the pool and it now gleamed with bright flame. Knowing he had to stop this before it got out of hand, he stepped in front of her and raised a hand for silence.
“Hear me, please.” He spoke clearly and with authority. “This woman has nothing to do with the house of Wyndom. She is a traveler—a time traveler. She’s come to help us in our fight against the tyranny we face at Wyndom’s hands.
“Do not fear her—welcome her. She is a brave woman.”
Stepping aside, he reached for her hand and drew her forward so they could get a good look at her. “In her time,” he continued, “eyes and hair are of many different colors. You can change these things you
rself.”
The people stirred, a note of disbelief in their voices, suspicion on all their faces. How could this be? After gestation these things could not be changed.
“Liar!” someone called. “This is a trick!”
“The woman is a spy!” someone else shouted. “Seize her! She will bring the death squad to our door!”
“King Wyndom is up to his old tricks!” the first voice shouted. “And if the woman is one of his minions, the man must be one, too.”
“Yes,” another voice joined in the denunciation, “we have two traitors in our midst—and we know what to do with traitors.”
Gissel stepped up beside Sammell, aligning herself with him. “No! What Sammell has said is true,” she called loudly over the discordant voices. “The woman is a time traveler. Sammell brought her here in his time machine. They have come to help us.
“Do not be afraid. The time for fear is past. We must be one without fear, united in the cause of freedom. If we are to create a brave new world in which we all can live in peace and harmony, we must love and trust each other.”
The group whispered among themselves, casting uncertain glances Marina’s way. And then someone at the back called out a welcome. The air of tension lessened and soon the people were once again shouting friendly greetings to their two new members.
As Gissel motioned for Sammell and Marina to follow her, and the group made a path for them, Marina was aware of many curious stares directed her way. She walked very close to Sammell, keeping her hand in his, knowing that she was a curiosity—a never-before-seen oddity to these people. And she wouldn’t soon forget the feeling of fear that had swept through her when she’d thought they were about to become a lynch mob as of old and take matters into their own hands, no matter what anyone else said.
Is this how everyone she met here would perceive her? She didn’t know if she could ever become accustomed to being stared at with that peculiar mixture of awe and fear she’d seen on every face just now. She glanced at Sammell’s grave profile and her shoulders slumped. Under the circumstances, she supposed that wouldn’t be a problem. As of now he was probably more determined than ever to send her away for her own safety.
