“Where are you going?”
“To . . . to the river, of course. It’s not that far,” she managed as casually as she could, half turning towards it.
“Why?” James asked, moving to intercept her. “And why take your bedroll?”
“Well . . . it’s a warm night, so I thought I’d wash it. And myself. Away from prying eyes. I don’t like the way Phinneas looks at me sometimes,” she improvised. “Like I’m a widow with a fortune for him to marry.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe you. My instincts, which I have honed by watching people time and again . . . say that you’re running away from us,” James stated. He cupped her shoulders, his thumbs gently rubbing her through the linen of her summer-weight dress. “Did I scare you off with my stated intentions? You shouldn’t be frightened by me. I meant no harm. I just . . . thought we would well suit each other. I care for you. And I really don’t think it is wise for a woman to try travelling on her own. There are all manner of feral beasts out there. Some of them run on two legs instead of four, you know.”
Anne could have protested that she would be fine. No anthropologist was allowed into the field without completing several courses in basic and advanced self-defence, includingcourses in the targeted time frame’s weapon styles.But he wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t have the time to convince him. Not without raising awkward questions.
I’m supposed to leave the group by oh-one-hundred hours tonight, and it’s just half-past twenty-one. How do I distract him so I can get far enough away that I can be picked up and returned to the future without anyone noticing?
He solved her dilemma for her. Sort of. “All right, so it’s been a hot and dusty day. A dip in the river does sound good. I’ll walk you down there. The others should be safe enough, since they have their numbers, the fire and our good yeomen-farmers to keep watch through the first and second quarters of the night. But I’ll not risk you to a wild beast, or a bandit, or even a slip and a fall which might injure your head, or a cramp which might cause you to drown.”
“James, it really wouldn’t be appropriate –”
One of his hands lifted from her shoulder, his finger finding and sealing her lips. “Shh. I insist. Surely the night is far too dark for me to see anything . . . inappropriate.”
That wasn’t entirely true; the moon was waxing towards full. Though its light did shine down in faint silver patches here and there, the forest canopy hid most of its light. Down by the river, which at this part ran north–south, it would shine fully upon the water, and on anything nearby.
“Come.” Sliding his other hand down her arm, he laced his calloused fingers with hers and gently tugged her through the trees. The ground sloped gradually down as they made their way eastwards, until the thickness of the underbrush forced them to detour to the south. A small break in the bushes a modest distance upriver provided access to the water. It was also far enough away that the light and the noise of the pilgrims’ campfire could no longer be discerned.
This is my last night with him,Anne thought, catching sight of his face in the pale silver moonlight.And my last and only chance to be alone with him. I’m not being picked up until oh-one-hundred hours. We have time . . . and maybe I can exhaust him into sleeping deeply.
It wasn’t exactly in the rulebook, but neither was it expressly forbidden on this trip. Anne had heard other field anthropologists being given lectures against such things for specific missions, but she hadn’t been lectured. Shrugging out of the rope holding herbedroll together, she untied it with the practice gained from weeks of travel and spread it out over the ground.
James moved closer. “Aren’t you going to wash that?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Besides,” she murmured back, strolling close enough to touch him, to brush her body against his own, “shouldn’t I get it dirty first, before I scrub?”
She could see his frown, thanks to a small shaft of moonlight. James stepped back. “I find I do not quite trust this reversal, Anne. Why were you so coy before, yet so forward now?”
All the instincts of a natural anthropologist, or maybe a psychologist or sociologist . . .Sighing, she gave him as much of the truth as he could handle. “I’m leaving the group. A friend will be meeting me shortly, and we’ll be on our way elsewhere. I was told that once I reached the river after our visit to the Cathedral, I should diverge and head upriver – and I will befine,” she added as his frown of distrust deepened into a worried look. “This isn’t the first time I have travelled, nor the first time I have struck out on my own, even for such a short distance as this trip will be.
“Youneed to stay with the others,” she reminded him. “They’ll need your protection, since it’s still a long way back.”
“And you’re offering yourself to me? What has prompted it?” James asked her.
Anne shrugged. “I decided I’d rather not leave with any regrets. I like you, I enjoy your company, and I desire you. If we weren’t destined to part company tonight, I would honestly consider your offer of courtship far more seriously than circumstances allow.”
He closed the distance between them, slipping his arm around her waist. “Well. If we do enjoy each other’s company, and this . . . dalliance . . . proves fruitful?”
She smiled wryly. “After so many years of barren marriage, I doubt it will.”
Particularly given the birth-control methods all field agents use. . .There were rumours of certain agents being sent into the past to “acquire” genetic material, but not having been approached herself, Anne wasn’t sure if those whispers were true, or just lascivious gossip.
“I am not your late husband.” Pulling her close, he nudged her with his loins. In specific, with the lump of his manhood. “You may find me to be the better man.”
His line almost made her laugh, except she sensed he meant it in several ways, not just the most obvious one. Softening her reaction into a smile, Anne lifted her hands to his hair. Fulfilling the longing she had suppressed throughout the trip, she buried her fingers in his springy blond curls, enjoying their slightly coarse texture.
He complied with her guiding touch, tilting his mouth into the perfect angle for meeting hers. Then pulled back, apparently startled by the touch of her tongue on his lips. Anne pursued his mouth, rising up on her toes and bringing his head back down to hers. He tasted more like the roasted turnips and rabbit they had eaten than like the mint of earlier, but mostly he tasted like a man. Delicious.
It took only a few moments before he returned her caresses. His own tongue grew more bold, as did the hands on her back, one skimming up to cradle the back of her head, the other sliding down to cup the curves of her bottom. Anne caressed his shoulders, then shifted her hands to the front of his cote-hardie. He had changed back into his travelling clothes this morning, to save his good outfit for the visits to the Cathedral, but even his second-best tunic was made of a finer weave of linen than her own. Unfastening the buttons as they kissed, she reached his belt and fumbled with the knotted leather.
Stepping back, breaking their kiss, James unfastened his belt himself, along with the rest of his cote-hardie. Anne took the opportunity to remove her own girdle and work on her buttons. Their garments fell to the ground, which was sparsely covered in tufts of grass and the felted wool of her bedroll. Moonlight obscured some of the details of his body and highlighted others. She could see scars from old wounds, and the ripple of muscles bunching and flexing when he stooped to remove his shoes.
She bent over in turn, unlacing her sandals and peeling down her hosen, only to blush when she heard him speak.
