Lord of Lightning (10 page)

He released her then, leaving her swaying in his wake as he scanned the corridor and spotted the supply room door to his right. Darkness spilled into the hallway as he opened the door and turned back to her.

“We can’t go in there—”

But she let herself be drawn into the room with him, her heart rocketing as he closed the door behind them. She relinquished the key without protest, watching it glow in the dim light as he locked them in. The only illumination came from a narrow fanlight window above the door.
Why in the name of heaven didn’t she stop him?
She didn’t understand the frightening control he had over her. Or why she was breathless and trembling when she ought to be resisting.

Something was driving him, too, she realized as he turned back to her. There was just enough light for her to make out the tension in his features as he reached out and touched her face. His fingers were rigid as they traced her jawline, leaving her skin tingly and numb.

“You have something I need,” he said.

“What—”

His eyes flared, incandescently blue. His jaw gripped painfully. Breathing a four-letter word, he took one slow step toward her, caught her under the arms, and lifted her to him, his palms pressing into the sides of her breasts.
“This.
I need to touch you again, Lise. Like this. I need your breasts under my hands, your lips under my mouth. I need you flat on your back, your beautiful legs spread—”

“Stephen!” She was so shocked, she couldn’t say anything else. He had jolted her back to reality.
He had jolted her with rioting, slamming excitement.
She wanted to stop him. She wanted to
slap
him, but her hand didn’t seem to be getting the message!

Light from the window streamed above them, arcing halos through his golden hair. He was strong and sure, his hands hot on her body. Despite the thundering noise of her pulse, Lise was aware of so many things at once. The inherent fear of relinquishing power, the seductive thrill of losing control. She could feel strength racing through him, flowing into her. His palms were pressed into a softness that had ripped painfully alive in just the last ten seconds. It was as though he’d pulled a lever and turned on a paralyzing current. The shock was running through her body, grounding her to the floor.

“Let go of me—” The words spilled out helplessly.

“I can’t do that, Lise.” His dark eyes were shadowed by a hunger that made her stomach knot. “I can’t let you go. Don’t you know that?”

There was something odd and vulnerable in his voice, a ragged quality underlying the raw desire. It was almost sad, and it drained her of every ounce of resistance.

She tilted her head back, and felt a pulse throbbing wildly against the arc of her neck. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to stop the crazy impulses flooding her senses. He was going to make love to her right here if she didn’t stop him. Was that what she wanted? The burn of his lips on her throat. The slow wonder of his hands. The hard thrust of a male body.
Was that what she wanted?

The answer came with a gush of dampness between her legs. Lise Anderson, who’d never had a man in her life, was about to have her first in the supply room of Abraham Lincoln Grade School. She must be strait-jacket crazy.

“Sigh,
Lise—” He said the word as though he’d found some new meaning for it. “Sigh for me.” And then he caught hold of her chin and brought her mouth to his. As his lips moved over hers she discovered for herself what the word meant. She felt as though the pit of her stomach had gone to liquid, as though a warm pool of silvery sensation welled inside her. There was a sweet heaviness in her legs that weakened her balance and jumbled her thoughts. It was fluid and honeyed, that heaviness. Her body was softening, it was
sighing.

He stroked her face with his fingers, deepening the kiss.

She was dissolving. If he kept this up, she’d cease to exist beyond a shimmering tide pool of sensation.

The pool rippled and swirled as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to him, returning the kiss. She felt as though she were welling with life, and yet there was another awareness that was even more insistent. It was deeper, tighter, the urgent throb of female need.

He broke the kiss and gripped her by the shoulders.

His voice was low and urgent against her ear.
“Lise,
Lise, I need you now, here, up against this wall. I need your legs wrapped around my waist. Give me that, Lise. Give me what I need.”

Her answer was an audible sigh, a draining sigh.

He pressed her against the wall and began raising her skirt, the pressure of his hands electrifying her. His fingers felt as though they were scattering sparks all over her skin. Somewhere in the distant recesses of her brain, she knew what was happening to her was crazy and reckless, that she would probably regret it. But that knowledge was too faraway to grasp. It was a piece of driftwood caught in an outgoing tide, receding from view with every wave of sensation that passed through her.

“You’re shaking,” he said, stemming his assault on her clothing. His breath held a groan as he brushed her temple with his lips. The kiss was taut, feather-light. “What is that, Lise? Need? Tell me it’s
need.”

“I don’t know ...”

Disbelief rocked through her as she glanced down at his hands on her bared legs. For a moment it seemed as though she were looking at someone else’s body, another woman who was half-naked and melting with desire. And then a tremor began in her thighs that she couldn’t control. It seemed to come from somewhere deeper, her very bones, and it rolled up her spine until she was quaking with a violence that felt as if it might never let go of her. “I don’t think I can do this—”

Stephen caught her by the arms to steady her and Lise clutched at his shirt as another tremor shook through her.

“Lord—I’m coming apart here,” she said brokenly. “I’m sorry—” She couldn’t explain what was happening, except that it had to be a delayed reaction. The sight of her own hiked-up skirt had thrown her into some kind of identity crisis.
Lise Anderson was doing it in the supply room?
It was more than her overwrought nervous system could handle.

“I
can’t,”
she said, fighting tears of confusion. “I should never have ... I don’t know what I’m doing in here.”

Stephen held her back a moment, as though he were trying to convince himself of her need for creature care. She must have looked dreadful because he pulled her into his arms with a harsh sound and held her steady until her trembling finally began to calm.

Lise was immensely grateful for his ability to shift gears, and a little surprised. Moments before he’d been the conquering army. Now he was a sheltering force. His arms felt like a haven to her shocked sensibilities. He was warm and substantial, exactly what she needed. Resting her head on his shoulder, she breathed a sigh. Everything might have been perfect if only, through the deep, steady rate of his breathing, she hadn’t heard a clatter of footsteps in the hall outside the door.

“Lise?” Julie called. “Where are you?”

Lise started to respond, but Stephen clamped a hand over her head, pressing her into his cotton-knit sweater. “She’ll never find us in here,” he whispered.

Lise shook her head, mumbling through muscles and fabric. She gasped as he freed her. “I told her I was going to the supply room!”

The doorknob jiggled violently.

Stephen released a faint groan.

“Lise? What are you doing in there?” Julie demanded. “I found some rubber cement.”

“That’s great!” Lise called back. “I’ll be another couple of minutes. I’m hunting for a—” She swung around and searched through the shelves, spotting something she actually needed. “For a
tape measure.
Listen, why don’t you call it a day, Julie. We’ll hit it again tomorrow, okay?”

“Are you all right, Lise?” Julie persisted.

“I’m fine. Go ahead, take off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Lise? ... Why is this door locked?”

“Locked? No, it’s jammed, you know how it always jams. Go on now, Julie. Go
home.”

“Oh, yeah ... okay. See you tomorrow then.”

As Julie’s footsteps faded into the distance Lise began automatically to adjust and smooth her clothing. The trembling had receded to a faint inner vibration by the time she got her skirt twisted around right and her blouse tucked back in. It was suddenly, vitally, important to her that she recover her sense of order, her sense of self, and anything else she might have lost in the abandoned interlude.

When she turned back to Stephen, she was Miss Anderson again, Shady Tree’s indomitable grade school teacher, role model and guardian of the public morals. The only trace of the “supply room wanton” was in the wispy disarray of her blond hair and a smear of lipstick on Stephen’s shirt.

“Saved in the nick of time,” she said. “Both of us.”

Stephen regarded her darkly. “Speak for yourself. I didn’t want to be saved.”

“We both know what you want,” she informed him.

He smoothed back the flyaway strands of hair that had strayed onto her face, his fingers lingering and sensual. Though the wildness had receded, a glint of the hunger remained in his eyes. “And I know what you want,” he said.

“You do? And what is that?”

He touched a finger to her lips. “Show-and-tell, Miss Anderson. One of these days I’ll surprise you.”

“
W
OW
! H
OW’D YOU
do
that?” Danny Baxter cried. His little sister, Em, stood next to him, clutching a time-worn Tiny Tears doll as she watched the man at the front of the class in rapt silence.

“It’s a magic jar,” another student whispered.

“No, it’s a magic paperclip!”

Lise stood at the back of the classroom, watching along with her students. All eyes were riveted on the “magic show” being performed for their entertainment and edification that afternoon. Even Julie was watching Stephen Gage’s sleight of hand with total fascination.

Inside the glass jar Stephen held, a large metal paperclip floated in thin air. Drifting like a helium balloon, it was held down by the piece of string that was taped to the bottom of the jar.

“What would you say if I told you there was no magic involved?” Stephen asked the children.

“What else could it be?” Em asked softly.

“Well, maybe this jar is filled with antigravitational space.” He went to Em first, giving her a closer look, then walked through the aisles so the other children could see. “Or maybe there’s something else at work here. Another force of nature called magnetism.”

Lise smiled to herself, every bit as taken as the children by the handsome sorcerer in their midst. Only it wasn’t Stephen’s magic tricks that held her spellbound, it was his personal transformation. Yesterday in the supply room, he’d been dark and dangerous, a blue-eyed demon from hell. Today he was Buck Rogers, hero of television reruns and every child’s friend. Today, freshly shaved and wearing the red flannel shirt, he could have run for mayor of Shady Tree and won. There was simply no trace of the mesmerizing darkness. She actually felt a little pang of regret at not having met him when they were younger, perhaps in high school. What a prom date, she thought.

Lise and Julie exchanged a knowing smile as Stephen took the jar apart and showed the children the magnet he’d taped to the lid that was attracting the paperclip. The kids reacted with “Ohs” and “Ahs.”

“I knew it all along,” one of them boasted.

Stephen enthralled the class with several more magic tricks that afternoon, using each as an opportunity to explain some of the fundamental elements of science. It was one of the most effective teaching tools Lise had ever seen. He’d said he planned to surprise her, and he had.

As he brought his act to a close the class broke out in applause. Lise walked to the front of the room, applauding too. “Thank you, Mr. Gage. That was wonderful. Wasn’t that wonderful, class?”

Wryness softened Stephen’s smile as he inclined his head. “My pleasure, Miss Anderson. But didn’t you say something about a science project you wanted me to look at?”

“Yeah!” the children exclaimed.

Lise indicated the model railroad pike they’d all been working on diligently. She winced as Stephen walked over to the half-finished layout. Seeing it through his eyes, she realized what a truly sorry-looking affair it still was.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, joining him.

The class watched them silently.

“You’re going to need more than magic for this,” he said, lowering his voice so that only Lise could hear. “You’re going to need a miracle.”

By the time class was over that day, a miracle was in the making. Rather than put the train together with the kit instructions, Stephen came up with a fascinating alternative. He suggested the students forego electricity as the train’s sole energy source and use electromagnetism instead.

He explained the theory of electromagnetic propulsion in terms they could understand and described how the West Germans were using it to run their new “magnetic levitation” train. And then he used his paperclip trick to illustrate the levitation aspect.

“See how the magnet attracts the paperclip, lifting it into the air,” he said, passing the jar among them. “In a ‘maglev’ train, there are permanent magnets in the train’s undercarriage that are attracted to the steel in the guide tracks above them. The attraction lifts the entire train into the air.”

“That’s
so
rad!” Danny Baxter said.

Stephen smiled at the boy’s excitement and tossed Em a quick, conspiratorial wink. “It’s like a magic carpet ride.”

As the class began to barrage Stephen with questions, he called them around the pike, answering their inquiries as he explained how to modify the train and the tracks to achieve the levitation effect. Everyone crowded around eagerly, including Julie.

Lise felt a little left out, but as she observed the children’s enthusiasm, she realized how successful her idea had been. They not only accepted Stephen, they were fighting to stand next to him. She watched for a time and then glanced out the window. The school yard was deserted except for an elderly woman making her way across the stretch of pavement where the kids played basketball. The woman’s wayward shopping cart was loaded with groceries, and every once in a while, she stopped and gave the front wheel a good kick.