Lord of Lightning Page 5

  The gang thundered onto the cabin’s creaky front porch and nearly pounded down the door before Lise could get there.

  “Lise!” Julie screamed, “are you in there?”

  Lise swung the door open, gaping at them in astonishment. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Are you all right?” they demanded in unison.

  “Of course—”

  Julie bounded forward. “When you didn’t show up this morning, I went over to your place—” She stopped short, staring at the red flannel shirt, her jaw dropping. “Lise, what ... ah, happened to you?”

  The men went silent, shifting, watching. Buck Thompson pressed in behind Julie, scrutinizing Lise with a dangerous glint in his icy blue eyes.

  “Oh, I—” Lise surveyed her own appearance with rising alarm. She was all but naked under the shirt, totally disheveled and covered with scratches and bruises. She must have looked like one of those female combatants after a marathon weekend of mud wrestling. “I had an argument with a rock,” she said.

  “Wait—don’t tell me,” Julie said sardonically. “The rock won, right? Lise, what’s going on? What are you doing out here? Like that? We thought you’d been abducted!”

  “Yeah, where’s this Gage dude anyway?” Buck Thompson had asked the question. He yanked a duck hunter’s cap off his head and raked a hand angrily through his spiky butch haircut.

  “Abducted?” Lise waved them silent, much as she would have her students. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine—”

  “This Gage dude is right here,” said a voice from behind Lise. “Who wants to know?”

  Silence again. Lise turned to see Stephen standing in the bedroom doorway, his blond hair looking very slept in, his shirt hanging open. If ever a man looked disheveled and sexy, Lise thought ... At least he had his pants on!

  She glanced around at the expression on Julie’s face—on all their faces. Anger and suspicion had given way to narrow-eyed shock. Lise knew what they were thinking. She’d just told them she hadn’t been abducted, so there was only one thing they could be thinking! Their prissy Miss Anderson had finally flipped out and gone nympho on them. How did she explain? This was one of those believe-what-I-tell-you-not-what-you-see situations. Maybe if she claimed she was Lise Anderson’s evil twin. Like in the soap operas.

  The veins were bulging on Buck Thompson’s forehead, and Lise was terrified he was going to challenge Stephen to some kind of duel. However, it was Julie who stepped forward.

  “What’s going on here?” she demanded. “Lise, are you being held against your will or something?”

  “No, she’s not.” Buttoning his shirt, Stephen moved into the room as though he intended to take over from there. And Lise, to her own surprise, found herself deferring to him.

  “She fell last night. She was out cold when I found her, covered with cuts and bruises,” he explained, congenially enough, but with a distinct don’t-mess-with-me tone. As he recounted how he’d brought her back to the cabin and treated her injuries, he also admitted he’d given her some pain medication. “The dosage must have been too strong for her. She fell asleep and didn’t wake up until this morning.”

  Julie’s scrutiny of him was fiercely suspicious. She moved into the room, too, staking out her own chunk of territory.

  It was a showdown, Lise thought. Julie, sheriff of Shady Tree, versus Stephen the gunslinger.

  “Is that how it happened, Lise?” Julie asked, fixing Stephen with a down-the-barrel stare.

  “Yes,” Lise said.

  “You took the pills of your own volition?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Julie—”

  Silence as the sheriff and the gunslinger locked eyes in a staredown. Who draws first, Lise wondered.

  “Can you drive, Lise?” It was the sheriff asking. Julie stepped up to Lise and took her by the arm as though to escort her out.

  The gunslinger made his move. “I’ll drive her.”

  “Stephen.” Lise wasn’t sure which one she was more exasperated with. They were acting like her fifth graders fighting over who got the biggest piece of chalk. “I can drive myself, thank you both very much.”

  She quelled them with a don’t-mess-with-me stare of her own. And then she turned her attention to the entire room. The men shifted uncomfortably. Miss Anderson was perrrturbed.

  “I can talk for myself as well,” she informed them all quietly. “And I can even dress myself, believe it or not, which is what I’m going to do now.”

  She brushed past Stephen without a word and pulled the door of his bedroom shut behind her. It really did astonish her how ridiculous adults could be at times. The human race was still in its infancy, she reminded herself, unbuttoning the shirt. Not long out of the caves, especially when it came to men and women. A tolerant sigh welled, and then a bemused smile. Actually, it was sort of sweet having half the town come to her rescue. Of course, now the whole town would know that she’d been caught in a compromising situation.

  She had her good arm out of the shirt and was clumsily trying to get a snagged button free when the door opened. She turned away, clutching red flannel around her as Stephen entered. “Will you get out of here,” she said under her breath. “It was bad enough before. Now you’ve confirmed their worst suspicions. I’ll never be able to convince them we didn’t—”

  She couldn’t say it.

  He could.

  “Make love?” He came up behind her. “It’s not a criminal offense, making love. I don’t think they’d throw us in jail even if we had.”

  His nearness raised the hair on the nape of her neck. Static electricity again? Or was this something else? The kind of voltage that male sexual interest generated.

  “Let me help you,” he said.

  “No thank you.” The snagged button was strangling in a quagmire of threads, and Lise seemed to be pulling the noose tighter with each tweak. “What is this, a trick shirt?” She gave the placket a good yank, prepared to rip the material if necessary. “You’ve got the buttons rigged or something, right?”

  She kept her back to him, at war with the stubborn snarls. “Why does everything go wrong when you’re around? Shopping carts, watches! Now this!”

  “Lise, you can’t dress yourself,” he said softly. “You probably can’t drive yourself either.”

  He placed his hand on her exposed shoulder, lightly at first, and then, without warning, his fingers pressed gently into her flesh. It was one of the most electrifying sensations Lise had ever experienced. She could discern each finger individually, its warmth, its length, its slightest movement. The pressure sent excitement tumbling through her.

  It confounded her that a mere touch could be so riveting. Her parents hadn’t been demonstrative, and she wasn’t used to being touched, but that alone couldn’t account for her body’s bewildering response. Nerves seemed to be dancing on an electric grid just under her skin. It was almost painful.

  “I don’t get this, Lise,” he said, his voice faintly husky. “I undressed you last night. I put this shirt on you, remember? So why not let me help take it off now? And then I’ll drive you home.”

  His warm breath touched her neck and tickled the lobe of her ear. A jet of air riffled her hair. What was that ethereal scent, she wondered. He smelled of cedar leaves and something more mysterious. Sandalwood? Breathing in deeply, she tried to place the scent. Whatever it was, it was making her feel pleasantly lightheaded and giddy.

  She glanced down at the tangled button and felt herself surrendering to the situation. She would never get it undone by herself, especially with only one hand. Letting him do it made sense on a practical level, but something else was happening as well. She was surrendering to the excitement churning inside her. “All right then,” she said.

  She turned, her eyes averted, and let him do what he wanted.

  Her imagination went wild as he worked at the button. She envisioned him taking the shirt off her, his hands brushing her
skin. She even saw the moment when their eyes met and passion flared. In the vividness of her mind, he was a man gone half-crazy with desire, his hands roaming her body, his lips hot on her throat, burning a path of fire to her breasts. As the fantasy spun out of control she could feel his mouth on her, drawing on her nipples in sweet little pulls. Warm air jerked in her throat. Even the faintest possibility of such a thing happening made her nearly sick with anticipation.

  “You’re not driving me home,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  His fingers hesitated on the shirt’s placket, but he said nothing. A moment later he had the shirt undone. He stepped back from her, his eyes brushing over her, taking in all the sexual signals her body was sending. The message in his darkening gaze was abundantly clear. He knew an aroused woman when he saw one. He wasn’t going to press that advantage now, here, with a posse outside the door. But he would, his eyes promised. Given the opportunity, he would drive her home in every possible sense of that phrase.

  The Volkswagen hit a rut and nearly threw Lise out of the cracked Leatherette bucket seat. “Slow down!” She grabbed for a wrist strap dangling above the window as Julie veered to avoid another pothole. Lise’s taped ribs ached with every jolt.

  “Not until I see the white line on Highway Nine,” Julie vowed. “I want to get as far away from this place as possible. That guy’s weird, Lise. Majorly weird.”

  Glancing into the rearview mirror, Julie swung off the dirt access road and onto a paved two-lane highway. Frank’s truck was right behind her, followed by Lise’s Cordoba, which was being driven by one of Frank’s attendants.

  “He’s not weird,” Lise said softly. “He’s just different.”

  Julie tossed her a look. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem a little flushed to me. Maybe you ought to see a doctor.”

  “A doctor, why?”

  “The guy did give you knockout drops, did he not? No telling what else he did.”

  “Julie, for heaven’s sake. He didn’t do anything like that.”

  “Oh, Lise, you’re so naive. Didn’t you ever see Children of the Damned? There were these aliens trying to repopulate their planet. They drugged the whole town and made all the women pregnant!”

  Lise rolled her eyes. Julie was off and running now. There’d be no stopping the endless scenarios of alien visitations and UFO’s spinning in her head. “Well, if he decides to take another shot at impregnating this earth woman,” Lise said sardonically, “I hope he doesn’t knock me out first. I’d hate to miss all the fun again.”

  Julie looked properly shocked and Lise shrugged apologetically. That was a wicked thing to say, she realized. Julie really believed Stephen was Darth Vader. Actually, it wasn’t too hard to understand the rampant rumors. Stephen was a strange and fascinating man. Remembering the white capsules he’d given her, Lise found herself wondering what was in them. They’d been tasteless, quick acting, and powerful.

  She stared out the window at the passing scenery, her imagination taking a paranoid turn. A moment later she shook her head. No, he hadn’t done that. A woman would know if she’d been made love to, wouldn’t she? Lise knew there were telltale signs, but not having ever done it before, she wasn’t altogether certain what they were.

  She glanced at Julie, determined not to grill a nineteen-year-old about sexual hygiene. Julie would probably be more than happy to oblige, however limited her experience, but Lise had gone to great lengths to keep that part of her life private. Even if the whole town knew she hadn’t been intimate with anyone since she came to Shady Tree, they weren’t privy to what she’d done before. For all they knew, she’d moonlighted at Kitten-With-A-Whip Escort Services before settling in their bucolic mountainside village.

  Julie flipped the car radio on, complaining about the lousy reception as static erupted. As she switched it off, Lise remembered absently that her car radio had been acting up too. The thought got lost as Julie began to probe none too subtly for information. She wanted to know if Lise had seen Stephen eat or drink human food. She wanted to know if he’d kissed Lise, or tried anything else while Lise was conscious.

  Lise assured her he hadn’t, but Julie wasn’t deterred. Did he stare into Lise’s eyes? she wanted to know. And what did Lise think of him? Did she find him attractive, for example?

  “Majorly,” Lise said.

  “Yeah?” Julie zeroed in on that one. “What is it you like about him? His blond hair?”

  His hair, his face ... his bedside manner, Lise thought. “That’s part of it.”

  “He is sort of a babe, actually. So ... if you could describe him in one word, what would it be?”

  “Tactile.”

  “What?”

  “He’s very ... tactile.” A magnificent understatement, Lise thought. Stephen Gage could send out alternating currents with his fingertips. What in the world would it be like to make love with a man who had spark plugs for body parts! The possibilities made her woozy.

  Julie had grown silent by the time they arrived at Lise’s house, but when Lise reached for the door handle to let herself out of the car, Julie stopped her.

  “I don’t want to scare you, Lise, but I really don’t think you should see him again.”

  “Stephen? Why?”

  “You know the exhibit at the Fairchild Museum? The display of Eskimo fertility artifacts? Well, two of them are missing. The first one disappeared Sunday evening; the second, yesterday—”

  “Somebody’s stealing Eskimo art? Why?”

  “Fertility statues, Lise. And it’s obvious why. To gain knowledge of the mating habits of humans.”

  Lise heaved a sigh. “Since Margaret Mead is long departed, you must be referring to the guy who wants to repopulate his planet, right?”

  “Who else? Were statues disappearing before he got here?”

  “Julie, really—”

  “Lise, I’m worried about you. He’s picked you out for some reason. Maybe he’s going to alter you genetically and turn you into his termite queen or something. You know, a one-woman breeding farm.”

  “Oh, thanks—”

  Lise’s dry comment was lost in the roar of a car engine. The pickup truck screeched to a halt behind the Volkswagen. It was followed closely by Lise’s Cordoba.

  Lise swung around and glared out the rear window. “I wish those yahoos wouldn’t drive like that, especially with my car.”

  “What are you going to do about this guy?” Julie pressed.

  Lise hesitated, debating that very question. What was she going to do about Stephen Gage? A moment later she turned to her teaching assistant and said quietly, “I’m going to ask him to help us with the class’s science project.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because winning the scholarship could prove to the school board that our school has merit. That our kids don’t need to be bussed to a larger community. Besides, I don’t know how to build a minimetrorail, do you?”

  Julie slapped a hand to her head, apparently flabbergasted. “Oh, Lord, this is worse than I thought. He’s taken control of her mind.”

  Five

  STEPHEN STOOD ON THE porch of the cabin, his eyes following the rutted dirt road to the place where it curved west toward the highway and was swallowed up by a tunnel of sycamore trees. Three cars had disappeared down that road several moments before, but dust continued to swirl up in little cyclones, golden devils that couldn’t find a place to settle.

  Restless energy, he thought, feeling a swirl of sensation in the reaches of his stomach. The woman had stirred up more than dust in her wake. She had made him restless too. He could feel it gathering inside him, creating its own faint, sweet suction, another kind of dust devil. Desire.

  Irony brought a smile to his lips. The past had taught him a survival skill—self-control. He had honed it the way a bodybuilder defines his outer musculature—armored himself against emotion, punished himself. And yet despite everything he’d done, it was coming back, that raging need to make love to a woman,
he’d held in check for so long. It was stealing into his thoughts, plaguing him with dark impulses.

  He wanted like hell to give into it. But he couldn’t.

  It could destroy him this time. It could destroy everything he’d come here to do. Experience had taught him that physical desire was an illusion. The forces behind it were as seductive as the dust devil—and as deadly as the eye of a storm. He’d been caught by those forces before, and the result had been tragic.

  Every sane instinct he possessed told him to stay away from Lise Anderson. Physically she was too desirable. Emotionally she was too quick to protest the slightest touch, and too transparently eager for more than touching. A dangerous mix for a man in his state of mind and body.

  And yet something about her, something even beyond the physical, drew him. An odd sense of destiny struck him as he considered the risk she represented—and its ultimate implications. Perhaps the choice wasn’t his to make. His mind began to stir, picking up the restless whisperings of his body. Perhaps she was the reason he was here ...

  He heard a rustling in the tree above him, and looked up. The sparrow hawk was perched on a limb in the uppermost branches. Sunshine brushed its head with gold and tipped its feathers.

  Stephen smiled as the bird glanced down at him.

  “You feel it, too, don’t you?” he said.

  The bird’s head inclined quickly, something very near a nod, and then its eyes returned to the road.

  The dust devils were still moving, floating endlessly, a golden mist in the sunny breezes. The rustling that moved through the trees was a hushed sound that could have been her name. Lise.

  Even the foothills could feel it, Stephen thought.

  She was the one.

  “What happened in here?” Lise’s voice was light with shock as she entered the classroom later that morning. There were dismantled cardboard boxes, uncoiled coat hangers, buckets of plaster of paris, and crumpled newspapers strewn every which way. The place looked as though it had been ransacked by vandals.