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Authors: The Wishing Chalice (uc) (rtf)
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hoped.
Hunter shook his head.
Obviously a month was out of the question. She wouldn't need that long to locate the chalice, anyway. How big could this castle be?
'Two weeks then," she backtracked. Two weeks should be plenty of time.
He hesitated. Isabel pressed on. "If by the end of that time my memory has not returned I swear I will abide by your wishes."
He came to stand before her. Their gazes locked as he took her hands into his, as if daring her to reject him this time. She didn't.
"I grant you a week's time," he said as if that'd be the greatest sacrifice on earth for him.
"A week is not much time to recover one's memory," she complained.
"You are my wife. A week is a reasonable amount of time for you to accept that, memory or nay."
Realizing she was backed against a wall, Isabel had to agree. "All right. A week then." She better find that damn chalice way before that time was up. The way Hunter looked at her and the way she reacted to his touch didn't bode welt for either of them.
With a slow motion he brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers with such tenderness, Isabel trembled.
This man loved his wife! The realization spread over her like a cold shower and instantly a pang of guilt tightened her heart. She had separated Hunter from his wife and she would do anything to bring them back together again. Surely, at this very moment, Détra was desperately trying to return to her own body, to her own life, to her beloved husband.
Meanwhile, for everyone's benefit, Isabel would keep up with her charade. Soon every th ing would return to normal and Hunter would have his wife back, not even knowing he'd kissed and desired a total stranger.
"Meantim e —" Hunter's husky voice brought Isabel out of her musings as he lifted his lips from her hands. She sought his dark, impenetrable gaze and a light shone there, a light she hadn't noticed before. " — I shall endeavor to aid you in recovering your memory."
Had she truly expected him to fade into the background while she ostensibly sought her past when in fact she chased her future?
He kissed her gently, unhurriedly, unthreateningly. All Isabel could do was to accept it, to take it, to savor it . He lifted, letting go of her momentarily while he picked up his shirt from the ground and donned it quickly along with his sword belt.
He tucked her hand back into his. "Let us walk back to the castle, my lady wife."
There was no misinterpreting the promise in his words, in his gaze. A promise not intended for her. Isabel shook the sadness overtaking her. She didn't belong to this life, to this body, to this man, no matter her wish. She had no right to fee! anything toward Hunter. No right whatsoever.
******************
WITH DÉ T RA'S HAND FIRMLY ENCASED IN HIS. HUNTER ambled toward the castle. He reeled inside, uncertain of what to expect next. In the orchard, when he had glimpsed the desire in the depths of D é tra ' s eyes and tasted her wanton kisses, he had been certain the chalice had granted his heart wish.
Her apparent change of heart soon after, however, had swiftly shattered that illusion.
Was Détra truly forgetful? Or was it just another excuse not to consummate their marriage? She seemed sincere enough regarding her lack of memor y — o dd as that might be. Who had ever heard of such a malady? And yet, if the chalice had anything to do with it, and Hunter wanted to believe it did, he should accept her claim without a question. After all, what else could have happened to explain Détra ' s change? For she had changed. It was almost as if she cared for his feelings.
And therein lay a very important distinction between his bride of earlier this morning and this one walking by his side. A distinction Hunter fully intended on exploring.
As they plodded up the slippery grassy mound, Hunter observed Détra. Struggling to hold her dress up from the wet ground, Détra took a moment to notice his stare-When she did, she followed his gaze to her
Hunter shook his head.
Obviously a month was out of the question. She wouldn't need that long to locate the chalice, anyway. How big could this castle be?
'Two weeks then," she backtracked. Two weeks should be plenty of time.
He hesitated. Isabel pressed on. "If by the end of that time my memory has not returned I swear I will abide by your wishes."
He came to stand before her. Their gazes locked as he took her hands into his, as if daring her to reject him this time. She didn't.
"I grant you a week's time," he said as if that'd be the greatest sacrifice on earth for him.
"A week is not much time to recover one's memory," she complained.
"You are my wife. A week is a reasonable amount of time for you to accept that, memory or nay."
Realizing she was backed against a wall, Isabel had to agree. "All right. A week then." She better find that damn chalice way before that time was up. The way Hunter looked at her and the way she reacted to his touch didn't bode welt for either of them.
With a slow motion he brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers with such tenderness, Isabel trembled.
This man loved his wife! The realization spread over her like a cold shower and instantly a pang of guilt tightened her heart. She had separated Hunter from his wife and she would do anything to bring them back together again. Surely, at this very moment, Détra was desperately trying to return to her own body, to her own life, to her beloved husband.
Meanwhile, for everyone's benefit, Isabel would keep up with her charade. Soon every th ing would return to normal and Hunter would have his wife back, not even knowing he'd kissed and desired a total stranger.
"Meantim e —" Hunter's husky voice brought Isabel out of her musings as he lifted his lips from her hands. She sought his dark, impenetrable gaze and a light shone there, a light she hadn't noticed before. " — I shall endeavor to aid you in recovering your memory."
Had she truly expected him to fade into the background while she ostensibly sought her past when in fact she chased her future?
He kissed her gently, unhurriedly, unthreateningly. All Isabel could do was to accept it, to take it, to savor it . He lifted, letting go of her momentarily while he picked up his shirt from the ground and donned it quickly along with his sword belt.
He tucked her hand back into his. "Let us walk back to the castle, my lady wife."
There was no misinterpreting the promise in his words, in his gaze. A promise not intended for her. Isabel shook the sadness overtaking her. She didn't belong to this life, to this body, to this man, no matter her wish. She had no right to fee! anything toward Hunter. No right whatsoever.
******************
WITH DÉ T RA'S HAND FIRMLY ENCASED IN HIS. HUNTER ambled toward the castle. He reeled inside, uncertain of what to expect next. In the orchard, when he had glimpsed the desire in the depths of D é tra ' s eyes and tasted her wanton kisses, he had been certain the chalice had granted his heart wish.
Her apparent change of heart soon after, however, had swiftly shattered that illusion.
Was Détra truly forgetful? Or was it just another excuse not to consummate their marriage? She seemed sincere enough regarding her lack of memor y — o dd as that might be. Who had ever heard of such a malady? And yet, if the chalice had anything to do with it, and Hunter wanted to believe it did, he should accept her claim without a question. After all, what else could have happened to explain Détra ' s change? For she had changed. It was almost as if she cared for his feelings.
And therein lay a very important distinction between his bride of earlier this morning and this one walking by his side. A distinction Hunter fully intended on exploring.
As they plodded up the slippery grassy mound, Hunter observed Détra. Struggling to hold her dress up from the wet ground, Détra took a moment to notice his stare-When she did, she followed his gaze to her
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