"Again, je suis désolé, M’sieur Pierson, I am so sorry. I ‘ope zee lady will be much better vehwy soon. If I can do anyzing, anyzing at’all--"
"Thanks, Maurice. I’ll tell her you send your very best wishes."
"Ah, oui, M. Pierson. Please to tell her my vehwy best wishes for a queeck recovairee."
"Au revoir, Maurice. Merci bien."
Adam began to close the door, but Maurice repeated, "If zere is anyzing else I can do, you weel say it to me, oui? I have nevaire actually met ‘er, nor even seen ‘er cloze up, vous comprenez, mais eef I wair onlee ten–" Maurice paused at the stony stare Adam gave him, shrugged and nodded with lips turned downward in acquiescence, then continued with enthusiasm, "eh, bien, twentee years youngair, I myself, I would nevaire leave ‘er side. Nevaire, nevaire!" Maurice gesticulated emphatically.
Adam nodded and said, " I do understand, Maurice, eh bien, au revoir y merci beaucoup!" Adam stepped back inside the barge, quickly closing the door behind him. Craning his neck to catch sight of the famous opera star staying on the barge of his friend MacLeod, Maurice found himself staring at the closed door. Pfft! The door is his face. Ahhhh, it was his own barge for awhile, but only, yes, only when Duncan MacLeod was out of the country. As he was now. Maurice frowned. How unlike his good friend MacLeod to leave town while there was a beautiful woman staying on his barge. I, myself would nevaire leave her side, Maurice repeated to himself, not for un moment, la pauvre! She had been through so much, too much for one so young, one so lovely as she. The glimpse he had caught... Ah, quelle femme! La vie– si breve, so quickly it passes us all by. Maurice shook his head, thinking of many things as he turned back toward his little houseboat, not nearly so grand as his good friend MacLeod’s barge, but for him, Maurice, it was home.
Hand still on the door handle, Adam muttered, "Great. This is just great. How am I supposed to..."
"Adam," her soft voice drifted across the barge, penetrating his thoughts. He crossed the barge, pausing to turn on a lamp by the sofa in the gathering dusk. "Did he bring it?"
Adam shoved the empty pill bottle deep into his jeans pocket and strode quickly to her side of the bed where he knelt. He gave a quick negative shake of his head and replied regretfully, "No. The one pharmacy he found open would not refill it. Turns out they couldn’t because they did not have it in stock."
Meredith took a deep breath. This was the fourth night she would have to get through without that prescription, and more than twenty-four hours without the medication was too many hours. She felt tears spring to her eyes. Nothing could substitute for this particular medication as it effectively regulated her heart beat. Her heart was palpitating irregularly, so hard and so often now that Meredith found it difficult to breathe. She squeezed her eyes tightly, fighting the tears, but despite her efforts they slipped out of the corner of her eyes and disappeared into the hair at her temples. Adam took her hand in his and held it gently. In the diffuse light from the streetlights on the quai, Adam could see how blue her hand still was. It seemed to him that the bruises were awfully slow to heal. He bent his head and lightly dropped a kiss on her hand, then reached for a tissue and tenderly brushed away the tears slipping from her eyes.
"I’m so sorry Meredith. The French...I don’t know...they’re funny about prescriptions sometimes. Sometimes they have them, sometimes not, and you never can predict what they’ll do about refilling them. If we could just reach the physician you see when you’re in Paris..." She opened her mouth to reply, but Adam continued, "I know. He’s vacationing. He and three quarters of the rest of Paris. But someone should be able to get in touch with him." Adam ran a hand through his short-cropped hair in frustration. "Or somebody that could help."
She gulped and took several short breaths. Adam became insistent. "Don’t you want to try the ER? We can slip in and out without a problem, I’m sure we can. Surely the doctors there will have the correct medicine."
Meredith sighed deeply. "No...not yet. I keep thinking Duncan will be coming in at any moment and we’d miss him. I can’t face that hospital...any hospital. I don’t want to go there again after what happened before."
Adam could not blame her. He had wanted to strangle the idiot who tipped the press to her presence. Almost as soon as the press found out and broadcast the news, the goons had showed up. But for MacLeod’s vigilance and his own presence in her room...Adam shook his head to clear the thoughts away. Neither he nor MacLeod had had any idea who sent the men, nor why. The thugs’ intentions were clear; however, the reason was not. There was no time for questions, either before or after the altercation. Adam had noticed a mark or tattoo of some sort on the underside of the wrist of the one he struggled with; and when the intruder noticed that he saw it, the man punched Adam unexpectedly hard in the mid-section, knocking the breath out of him, bending him double, then escaping. Unfortunately, the one MacLeod fought and had sent flying through the window was not immortal and did not last the five story fall. Neither of them recognized the intruders.
Adam did not mention that he glimpsed a tattoo on the man he was fighting. He was nearly certain he recognized what he had seen, but did not want to jump to conclusions. Upon reflection, Adam knew exactly where he wanted to investigate. However, MacLeod had left two days later on a business trip, without much explanation. That he would leave so suddenly had irked Adam. MacLeod had been unusually tight-lipped about it and nothing Adam said or did could pry any information about it from him, aside from two destinations, the U.S. and Hong Kong. And now, he had to wait until the Scot returned from his trip. Adam was not going to leave Meredith alone and defenseless in the barge for any reason. At least, Adam thought with a measure of relief, the paparazzi had not found them yet.
She heard the cold edge in his voice when Adam muttered through gritted teeth, "Why in hell hasn’t he called and where the bloody hell could he be?"
Meredith squeezed his hand and said, "He’ll get here; but till he does, could I please- -"
He interrupted quickly, "Blue or white this time?"
"Both. It’s been long enough, I think."
"Juice?"
"Please. And water."
"Hm. Drink and a chaser," Adam attempted a bit of levity. "Rocks?"
"Yes, please, and add some vodka to that orange juice, would you?"
His eyebrows rose. "Really?"
"Um-hm, yes, I think so."
He countered gently, "Wouldn’t some brandy be better?"
"Actually a light wine is easier for me to handle. I’m feeling kind of..."
"Queasy?"
"Um-hmm."
"Something to eat would help with that, but," Adam grinned in the semi-darkness, "just let me check where MacLeod might have hidden the Dom." Both his dimples showed. "That'll teach him to get back home on time from now on." Meredith made no reply as she covered her eyes with her arm.
"Back in a flash," Adam said softly, as he headed toward the kitchen, stopping along the way to search a cabinet. Silently determining he would chew out MacLeod in several of his favorite old languages once his friend returned, Adam rummaged through several places he thought the champagne might be stored, then popped up with a satisfied, "Aha! Found it! Wanna let it chill a bit?"
Her reply was indistinct. Adam frowned as he placed the bottle in the freezer, poured her juice, grabbed a water bottle and returned quickly to her side. Her eyes followed his movements as he placed the bottle and glass on the table. He noticed and asked, "What?" then snapped his fingers. "Rocks! One second." While he was at the freezer, she reached for the pill bottle and took a white pill, washing it down with water, thinking, At least it will help me sleep. Adam returned with the ice for her juice, removed a small bottle from his pocket and asked, "One blue one, right?"
Meredith replied, "For now anyway." He grabbed the bottle of white pills.
"One?"
"Sure."
He placed a supportive hand under her head as she finished the water, washing the second pill down. "At least, these shouldn’t be a problem to refill. Easier than in the US." Pouring juice over the ice, Adam teased her gently, "You Yanks really do like your iced drinks."
Meredith half-smiled with eyes closed. "I’m not a yank."
"You mean you’re not a Yankee Doodle Dandy, come to Paris ridin’ on a pony, as the song goes?"
Meredith suppressed a groan and replied drily, "That was Jimmy Cagney and the city in the song was London." The cold water had triggered a pounding in her temples. She pressed on them, eyes still closed and whispered, "Adam..."
He switched off the bedside lamp, then heard her sigh of relief. "Be right back," he murmured. Good as his word, he returned quickly with a warm cloth and a cool one in time to see her hand go to her chest. He placed the cloths on the table, grabbed a pillow and said, "Let me help you get this pillow under you, luv." Adam slid his arm behind her and held her carefully as he angled the pillow behind her. The bruising on her back looked even darker in the semi-darkness. Egad, what a fall she took, Adam thought. He could not help but notice how well she filled the peach-colored silk gown she was wearing. His lips twitched into a smile, as one of the spaghetti straps slid down over her shoulder. Meredith did not pursue the Paris fashions, nor aspire to a runway model’s figure. But, he could not help but notice that she looked slimmer than the picture MacLeod had showed him and the ones the news networks had splashed across the television screens. He thought he could even see her ribs, but he did not let his eyes linger too long. Adam gently laid her back and waited a moment before trying again. In his most persuasive tone, he said, "Meredith, you really should see a doctor if your heart beat is so irregular. They should keep check on that."
"No. No doctors. No more hospitals."
He spoke softly but with emphasis. "This can’t be good for you. That was a helluva fall you had. And remember, the doctor said if you had any nausea, you should go straight back into hospital. That was a head injury, bébé, and I don’t want you to--"
"Give the pills a minute. The blue one will help with the palpitations and the white one will help with the pain."
Adam sighed impatiently. "I think next to MacLeod, you’re the most stubborn person I know."
"I guess I prefer the designation 'strong-minded'," she mumbled, unmoved.
"Um-hm." The silence drew out between them. They had grown comfortable with each other over the nearly two weeks she had remained on the barge. Adam rather enjoyed watching over her, fretting silently about the bruises, taking note of her progress, without her noticing. She still had not seen a mirror and he had hidden the only hand mirror MacLeod had on the barge. He would bring it out again, all in good time. She was moving around somewhat more easily, although her broken ribs had not completely healed. However, he did not like the pallor around her mouth. She was very fair with no sun on her skin, true enough, she looked almost ghostly in the dimly lit barge. "Cloth for you, Meredith. Warm or cool?"
He thought she might not answer, but at last she spoke. "Cool under my neck, please. Warm on my eyes." He obliged.
Then she surprised him. "How about that Dom?"
"Well, um, that is, should you be drinking after taking your medication?"
She sighed, irritated. "Yes."
He hesitated to argue further, knowing that Meredith had made up her mind. Still, he could not help himself. "Uh...Meredith, I don’t think–"
She pushed the cloth aside and stared into his eyes. Even with the swelling that remained in her face, her __expression was quite clear. Adam studied his hands. He cleared his throat, then swallowed. He inhaled as if to speak, then looked aside, vaguely in the direction of one of the portholes. At last, he sighed and said, "I’ll be right back." As he turned to go, Meredith replaced the cloth and her lips quivered as she tried not to smile.
From across the barge, Adam said, "Hold your ears, bébé, here goes," and popped the cork. With the bottle under one arm, the frosted glasses and a bowl of fresh strawberries he knelt by her table, poured her glass, then his and asked, "What shall we drink to?"
"You do the honors."
He held his glass aloft, "To new friends and...to your quick recovery, naturally, and I just wanted to say how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Meredith, even under these ghastly circumstances and um...what a lovely and charming lady you are and..."
"Enough, enough. The Dom will go flat."
He grinned, "To you."
"And you." Their glasses clinked. "Why don’t you sit?" she indicated the open space on the bed beside her.
"Oh. Ehm, all right." As he walked around the end of the bed with the bottle and his glass, Meredith swallowed the white pill she had taken from the small container, nearly draining her glass. To Adam’s surprise, she held up the glass for a refill. "Goes down easy," she murmured.
He opened his mouth as if to protest, closed it again, and poured half a glass for her. She sipped it while he was figuring out how to manage sitting while holding the strawberries and champagne bottle. He set the bottle on the low table, then sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes; but not wishing to have his back to her, he decided to lean against the pillow. Cloth still covering her eyes, Meredith said, "Stretch out. Be comfortable," and she sighed. He obeyed, careful not to jar the bed as he set the strawberries between them.
She sighed again and he watched as she began to relax. Perhaps it would be all right, just this once, mixing the pills with the champagne. He knew enough to restrict her intake. And once she tasted the strawberries, he was sure she would eat more of them. He hoped they might whet her appetite for more food. She had eaten so little of the food he had prepared, and he had outdone himself, trying to tempt her with tasty recipes to get her to eat and regain her strength. And today, Adam had sent Maurice to the special green market he usually frequented with orders not to come back without the biggest, sweetest, juiciest, reddest strawberries he could find, and Maurice had done exceptionally well.
Adam leaned in a bit and passed one of the berries in front of her nose, lingering a moment so she would be sure to catch the aroma. He took it away and waited. Finally, he said, "How about a fresh, organically grown, vine-ripened strawberry, all the way from California?"
"Not frozen?"
"Not frozen." A moment passed.
"Organic, hunh?"
"Absolutely, organically grown." Another moment.
"Vine-ripened? Are you sure about that?" she mumbled.
"Positively sure. Vine-ripened and picked by a local grower and his nine fine children."
He saw her lips purse and knew he had almost gotten a smile.
At last, she pulled the cloth from her eyes and dropped it on the floor by the bed. "Are you sure they’re from California?" she asked, doubt filling her voice. "A lot of time they claim they’re from California and really, they’re from Iowa or Mississippi or Georgia or somewhere."
Adam placed the bowl on the bed and put his hand over his heart. "I swear they are from California or may I live to be 962 and never have children."
Meredith rolled her eyes and finally grinned. "Okay. I’ll try one. But you know the odds against your living to be 962, don’t you?"
Adam grinned, making the lines in his cheeks become dimples. If she only knew, he thought. He picked the prettiest berry he could find. "Open wide."
Meredith looked at the berry, then at Adam, and replied, "Oh, all right," and opened her mouth. Adam did not hold the berry so she could gingerly take a bite, but pushed it a little, just enough to be sure her teeth were sunk into it. She sat in utter surprise for a moment, that he would be so cheeky, with the berry between her teeth and juice running down her chin. Chuckling, Adam took his handkerchief and dabbed at her chin. Meredith pushed his hand away, bit completely into the strawberry and chewed delicately.
He waited for her reaction, but she registered none. "See? Didn’t I tell you they were delicious? I do think they’re the best I’ve had in cent...uh, in...since I don’t know when."
Meredith sipped her champagne and pretended to chew some more, finally swallowed and replied loftily, "I’ve had better."
Aghast, he sputtered, "But...unh...but..." Quick as a flash, Meredith stuck the berry into his mouth. He sat with it sticking out from between his teeth, eyes narrowed at her.
"Sauce for the gander..." Meredith said airily. Adam thought he caught a twinkle in her eyes. He bit down, then opened his mouth to speak. She waggled her finger at him, "Ah, ah, ah. Mustn’t talk with your mouth full. You just eat your berry while I drink some more of this mahvelous champagne," and she leaned over him to grab the bottle and poured another three quarters of a glass.
Adam quickly swallowed, determined to get the champagne away from her, and promptly choked as her lovely bosom jiggled a bit, nearly in his face, and brushed his chest as she leaned back. Still coughing, he was able to grab the bottle and say, "I think you’ve had quite enough of this stuff. Glass, please." Tears were pouring from his eyes, as he fought to clear his throat of the obstruction. He beckoned for her to give him her glass.
She scoffed with a little laugh. "In your dreams."
"Meredith, you’ve had enough, what with your meds and all. Come on, give it here."
Feeling mischievous and knowing she was indeed feeling the effects of the alcohol mixed with the medication, and not caring a bit because at last she was free of pain, Meredith slowly shook her head back and forth, "Nnnnnnnnnnope!" She giggled.
"Meredith, I’m serious."
"Un-hunh." She nodded up and down.
"Meredith, I mean it. Give me the glass."
She shook her head again slowly in the negative, "Un-unh."
Finding it difficult not to laugh at her, strawberry juice still on her chin, Adam looked as tough as he could manage to look and said, "I’m warning you, Meredith. I... am... not...joking." He held his hand out. "Give it here."
"Well, if you want it that badly..." and she made as if she might throw the champagne on him.
He held out both hands, palms toward her. "DON’T you dare throw that on me."
She giggled again. "You don’t REALLY think I’d waste this delicious drink on you that way, do you? Wanna know what I think?"
Humoring her, he said, "All right, Meredith. What do you think?"
"I think if you want it, you’re going to have to come and get it." Then she smiled sweetly at him, a brilliant smile. Yes, he thought, her eyes are sparkling.
He half-grinned and reached for the glass. She avoided him, raising and lowering her glass, giggling as he got on his knees and reached for the glass, trying to keep his balance and not fall forward on her. The harder he tried, the more the bed shook and the more frustrated he became. She held the glass as far away from the bed as her arm would stretch. Adam leaned over her, one hand on the bed for support, and stretched his arm out. His slender body was close to Meredith and she looked at his derriere, so prominently displayed. As he leaned forward, it seemed to stick up even further in the air. She murmured, "I must admit, I am sorely tempted," her southern accent coming through.
"Hunh?" Adam swung his head around to face her.
"You present such a...uh, such an admirable target." He glanced around at himself, looking chagrined to find himself in such a position.
Without moving, Adam gulped and said, "I do believe you have me at a disadvantage, Madam." Meredith giggled again and watched as he reached for the glass.
She said softly, "And I do believe a man’s reach should definitely exceed his grasp."
He turned slightly, leaning slowly toward her, looking into her eyes. In the light coming from the lamp on his side of the bed, they looked to him like pure turquoise. "Would you mind explaining that to me? I never have understood it."
She shook her head slowly back and forth yet again. "Nnnnnnnnnope. I just quote ‘em, don’t 'splain ‘em. S’not part of the job subscription." Adam raised his eyebrows. She said, "Oh," and covered her mouth with her other hand. "I mean pre...prescr...um, noooo, dee, dee, dee, deeeeeescription." She chuckled and her dimples showed.
Adam looked intently at her, as if he hadn’t heard. "Did I ever tell you, you have the most gorgeous eyes?" He paused, and added, "And the cutest dimples."
Meredith batted her eyelashes at him in her best Southern Belle form. "Did I ever tell you, suh, you have very, very long ahms?" She smoothly evaded his hand and brought the champagne glass under his chest, took it with her other hand and drank half of it before he could sit back on his heels and take hold of the glass.
"All the better to reach your champagne glass with, my dear." He took it and finished the champagne in it as she looked on, mouth hanging open in surprise. Then, leaning across her, he placed it on the table by her side of the bed.
Meredith felt a flutter of something in her stomach at the closeness of him. She could smell his after shave, a fresh, sweet woodsy fragrance with a tang to it; and she became aware of the muscles in his arms, outlined against the stretch of his sweater. He glanced at her and they exchanged smiles. Meredith thought, I see the gold flecks in his eyes tonight, and she was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment when he turned and with a fluid motion, sat on the opposite edge of the bed with his back to her. She realized she had thought he was going to kiss her, and to her further surprise, she realized she had wanted him to. That thought took her attention completely.
He finally spoke softly, back still to her, "How about a game?"
She swallowed hard and answered offhandedly, "Whatever."
"Whist?"
"Nope."
"Poker?"
"Nope."
"Five Card Stud, joker’s wild? Or maybe Gin Rummy?"
"Nope and nnnope. Don’t drink either one." Meredith shook her head slowly back and forth. "You’re out of order. Alphabetilogically, that is."
"Hmmmm. Sorry?"
"You should be!" she retorted.
Adam was so glad to see her feeling better and out of pain, he continued with his silliness. Silly? He could do silly. "Erhm, let’s see...Pictionary?"
"Nope."
"Trivial Pursuit?"
"Certainly is! Nope."
Ouch! Three zingers. He half shook his head. Nothing for it but to go on. "Monopoly. You get Park Place and Boardwalk."
In her best imitation of Eva Gabor, Meredith replied, "Dahhhhhlink, I already own Park Place and Boahrdvalk."
It was Adam’s turn to roll his eyes. He finally felt he was in control of himself enough to lie back against the pillows and did so, with hands threaded together behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles. He had not felt so disturbed by her presence until tonight. Naturally, they had had close contact as he cared for her during the prior weeks. He had helped her to the bathroom, even carried her back and forth. But leaning close to her as he had a moment before was different. He was actually rather glad he had felt the attraction so strongly. Good to know the old plumbing still worked, he thought wryly. He inhaled deeply. "Nonesuch."
"Nope."
"Operation?"
"Eeeeew. Nope."
He snapped his fingers. "Forgot one. Uno?"
She smiled condescendingly at his feeble attempt at cleverness and replied with sarcasm dripping, and popping the ‘p’ at the end, "NoooooPe."
"Aha! I have it. The game you are sure to enjoy from ancient India–Parcheesi!"
Meredith like Parcheesi. She pretended to waffle, "Ennnh, nope."
He laughed rather like a cinematic evil villain and rubbed his hands together. "I have it now! Backgammon! You love Backgammon. You can’t resist Backgammon."
She sighed deeply and replied sadly, "Nope."
"Ummmmmmmm...ennnnnnh....erhmmmmmm...Go Fish."
"Ha. I’d rather be in bed!"
"Well, Miss Picky, what game do you want to play?"
"You haven’t a Clue, do you?"
Adam sat straight up. "Clue???" he asked in mock horror.
Meredith pretended to think a bit, as she waited for the room to stop spinning. "Welllllll, nah. Everybody knows Colonel Mustard did it to Miss Strawberry in the library."
Adam feigned astonishment, "In the library?"
"In the library."
"What incomparable cheek."
Meredith nodded, "One can hardly speak."
"In the library," Adam repeated. "You’re quite sure? What unmitigated gall."
"Um-hmm. It certainly wasn’t in the hall."
Adam saw the twinkle in her eye again. As she reached for the champagne glass, he got her attention. "And everybody knows?"
"Absolutely. Even the Nigel Pamphilicos."
Adam’s brow knitted. What the blazes rhymed with Pamphilicos? "Uh, what a scandal! I must tell... Randal!"
"Undeniably. You hadn’t heard?"
"Most incredibly, not a word!"
Appearing amazed, Meredith asked, "Not a word?"
"I hadn’t heard!" Adam was relieved. She let it go by. This is battier than...his thoughts were interrupted.
"It created quite a sensation."
Adam gulped, "Oh, rehh-aly!"
"Swept the whoooooole entire nation." Meredith’s arms opened wide and her hand landed in the air just in front of Adam’s nose.
"Well, er, uh, you must admit, Miss Strawberry is um, er, was quite a temptation."
"Hmpf. If you like that type," Meredith sniffed.
"What type is that?" Adam thought quickly. "Did she have a cat?"
"Oh, it wasn’t the cat," Meredith shook her head slowly.
"Not the cat." Hell’s bells, Adam thought. "Well, um, was she, perhaps, slightly fat?"
Thoughtfully, Meredith replied, "Not so terribly fat."
"It wasn’t the cat, and she wasn’t so fat. What could it be then, other than that?"
Not knowing where Meredith might be going with this crazy rhyming business, Adam limped bravely on, "Um, I never would have suspected that."
"Even her cat had a hat," Meredith leaned in and spoke sotto voce. With great effort, Adam kept his eyes from devouring here décolletage, which pressed softly against his chest.
"Amazing, I must say." He actually felt nonplussed. "What would a cat do with a hat?"
Matter-of-factly the reply came, "He wouldn’t wear it. Thought it made him look fat."
Out of ideas, Adam asked desperately, "Why would a cat care if he looked fat?" Meredith leaned back against the pillows and flashed him a sideways glance. "Oh, right! Used that one too many times, eh? Um, let’s see...where were we...um, at?"
Meredith groaned, then sighed. "You thought Miss Strawberry was quite a temptation," she replied with disdain.
Adam sat up, crossed his legs, Indian style, and leaned his elbows on them, chin in hand. He gazed into the distance. "Ah, yes. Saw a girl like her once, at the railway station."
With a cloudy look, Meredith said, "We’re not going there. We’re back at the libr’y."
He turned to look at her, "I know, I know. Where Colonel Mustard did Miss Strawbr’y."
Meredith gave him a sage look. "It was not just a case of love and murder. Also involved was a bit of...brib’ry."
"Hm. Crimes of passion, love and..." a thought struck him. "Well, but if she’d only screamed bloody murder, then surely someone would’ve heard ‘er."
Meredith’s dimples showed. "Now you’re back on track. I must pat you on the back." On impulse, and under the non-inhibiting influence of the champagne and medicine, Meredith slid her hand inside and up the back of Adam’s sweater, lightly running her fingernails over his skin and patting his back softly. He felt chills ripple over his scalp and neck in response.
He swallowed hard, cleared his throat and said softly, "Now that was quite unexpected."
She answered, deep rosy color in her cheeks, "But I hope, not entirely misdirected."
Adam glanced at Meredith from the corners of his eyes, took a swallow of champagne and said, thoughtfully, "Crimes of passion, love and bribr’y...Poor Miss Strawbr’y in the libr’y! Of all the aspects of this story, and some of them, no doubt, are gorey, one character, I admit, I never expected... to encounter here was Miss Directed."
Giggles rippled out of Meredith. He continued, "Of all the games played, no matter the place, they only knew her name, never saw her face." Adam was speaking softly as he turned, leaned over to Meredith, he could stay away no longer, and ran a long slender index finger over her eyebrow to her cheek and nose. "And a lovely face it is, I’d have to say. I love it more with each passing day."
Meredith’s eyes widened at this forthright admission from Adam, her mouth opening slowly in surprise. Adam leaned toward her, his desire for her rising rapidly. Just as he was about to press his lips to hers, the sound of a car door slamming on the dock startled them and they both jumped and spoke simultaneously.
He said, "Damnation."
She said, "That’s Duncan."
"Now I’m really pissed," Adam added even more softly and there was a steely edge to his voice.
She said, unable to hide her disappointment, "It doesn’t have to end like this..." Adam rolled away from her and stuck his feet in his shoes. Realizing he was getting up to go to the door, Meredith amended her words, somewhat fuzzily, "Um, like this’ed?"
He lifted his champagne glass to her in a silent toast and drained it. Then, Adam picked up a strawberry, and Meredith thought he was walking away, but instead he turned, coming round the end of the bed. He bent over her, his face close to hers, and he spoke quickly. "I guess our little rhyme is over for a time. But just because we suspend it, doesn’t mean we have to end it. We’ll pick it up again if you wish, not here but at my place." Meredith felt dizzy. He continued, closer, "And we’ll have chocolate and champagne, with napkins and lace. And unlike Colonel Mustard and Miss Strawbr’y in the libr’y, there won’t be a reason we should have to stop." Meredith’s eyes widened again. Adam looked at her open mouth, reddened and made moist by the berry. They could hear Duncan’s steps as he neared the door. She could feel Adam’s warm breath on her face and of course, it smelled of champagne and strawberries. He said more softly, "I’ll even take the bottom and you can be on top." And with that, he smiled a sweet smile and stuck the strawberry in her open mouth.
Then, Adam strode purposefully to the door to meet Duncan.
* * * * * * * * * *
Meredith sat stunned, not moving, watching Adam walk through the barge toward the door. Dear heaven! she thought, feeling as though the bottom of her stomach had just dropped out. Where have I been all this time? Dead? He’s...he’s...cute. Sort of. And...um...She watched as Adam struck a stance at the bottom of the steps, feet slightly ajar and firmly planted, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the door. Light filtering through the portholes from the street lamp illumined him for a moment and her eyes noticed the muscles in his upper arms, his strong shoulders, his derriere in the tight jeans. She gulped. Sexy. She sank back against the pillows, clapping her hand over her mouth, where to her surprise, she found the strawberry Adam had stuck there. She devoured it with real enjoyment, thinking happily, I didn’t know I was starving. Surreptitiously, she slithered a bit across the bed, found the champagne bottle and washed the berry down with a few small sips, straight from the bottle. No point in trying to pour it in the dark, she figured. "Knowing me," she murmured, "it’d go everywhere but in the glass." She heard Adam’s last words lingering in her mind and blushed deeply. I can’t believe...I just can’t believe he...and I...
The door flew open and there was Duncan, looking tired and harried, pulling his bag-on-wheels behind him, fighting with it, getting it across the entrance and into the barge at last, with much muttering and a clear "Damn!" when the whole cart slammed into his shin. Adam watched silently. Duncan parked the bag in the kitchen, then shrugging out of his overcoat, he glanced at Adam. "Hello? I’m home."
Through clenched teeth, Adam replied icily, "And about time, too, I’d say."
Surprised at the hostile welcome, Duncan hung up his coat, place his plaid scarf over it, then turned, and running his hands through his hair, asked, "What? Whad’ya mean? Because my plane was late?"
"Going on five days late. What the hell happened, MacLeod?" Adam demanded, then held up his hand, "No, wait. Let me guess. Engine trouble."
The sarcasm in Adam’s voice was not lost on Duncan. More than a little defensively, Duncan retorted, "That’s right! We nearly went into the ocean. They rerouted us to Bombay and we got stuck with a two day layover, no less, which in Bombay means four days, and you know what hell that can be." Duncan’s voice took on an ominous tone. "Or I guess you do..." Uh-oh, thought Meredith, here it comes.
"I don’t know how much traveling you’ve done lately, so maybe you’re not aware–"
"Oh, I’m aware, all right," Adam interrupted evenly. "Where is it? Did you bring it?" He held out his hand.
Duncan looked blank, then frowning, he pushed past Adam, and headed for the armoire. "I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. And I need a drink. I’ve been awake for four days and haven’t eaten in two and I don’t feel like playing Q and A with you." He sounded tired and rather angry. Then, the splash of Scotch whiskey in a glass was the only sound in the barge as Duncan poured himself a double and downed it, neat. He poured another double and swallowed most of it in two gulps. And he poured a third time and set the bottle down.
When Adam next spoke, Meredith shivered in spite of herself. "I’m quite sure your houseguest is awake by now."
The glass was nearly to his mouth when Duncan stopped, blinked twice, then looked toward the bed, just as Meredith switched on the lamp. "Oh, Meredith! I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?"
She sat up, covers falling partially away to reveal the silk gown she wore. It seemed to Duncan that she glowed all golden and pink in the soft light cast by the lamp, like an angel. "Actually, no," Meredith replied, "We were just..."
Adam interrupted her, his words slicing the air. "The prescription, MacLeod. Where is it?" Through the haze of hunger and exhaustion, sleeplessness and Scotch, Duncan tried hard to recall. Adam continued, "For Meredith. You were supposed to get it refilled in New York."
"Oh! Right. Right! The prescription. It’s um...it’s...uh..." Duncan patted his jacket pockets, but with no success.
"Right." Adam said. "Four, no, five days late, not so much as a call to let us know anything, and to top it off, no prescription." And then the sarcasm came. "How unlike you, MacLeod. What happened? Did you get all wrapped up in one of your big deals–?"
"My cell phone got ripped off on the subway in New York," Duncan protested. "I got the–"
"Ever heard of a lan line, MacLeod? A friend of mine named Alexander Graham Bell invented it well over a century ago." Meredith almost gave a soft whistle, but caught herself just in time. This is awful, she thought. Poor Duncan. Adam was giving no quarter.
Duncan protested, "But I did get it filled, I tell you. Dammit, I can’t think where I put it." His words were beginning to sound a bit slurred.
"Did you even pick it up from the pharmacy?"
"Adam," Meredith spoke softly, "give him a minute to think."
"It...it was in my pocket–Wait! The overcoat." He climbed the steps to the coat rack at the door and rifled through all the pockets. Then he tried again with no success. Puzzled, he muttered to himself, "I know I put it in a pocket." He came back down the steps, bleary-eyed, "Oh, Meredith, I’m so sorry." He frowned as he tried to remember enough to be able to explain. "Part of my luggage went to Japan, of all places. And security is so tight now, and the bottle was in your name...I’m thinkin’ I may, at the last moment, have put it in a bag for safe-keeping."
Meredith glanced down at her hands to hide her disappointment, folded them together, then answered reassuringly, "Don’t worry, Duncan. I’m sure it will turn up."
Adam said flatly, "Step outside with me, MacLeod."
Fingers twisting the edge of the coverlet, Meredith began, sounding a bit thick of speech to her own ears, which were ringing now, "Adam, please. We’ll figure something out. Don’t ...um..."
He ignored her, opened the door and walked out, leaving it open behind him. Duncan sighed heavily, tossed the rest of his drink back and set the glass down hard.
Meredith said, "Duncan."
Feeling quite high, and actually a little better, except for his hunger, Duncan paused and looked at her, golden red hair curling softly over her pale shoulders, a vision in peach under the warm light. Almost awed, he thought, She’s beautiful! Even more now than before. Then he wondered groggily why he was surprised.
"Please don’t fight with Adam. He’s your friend. He’s just tired and upset. Please." Her voice wavered. Duncan gave her a rather grim smile, then turned and followed Adam out to the deck of the barge, closing the door behind him.
In a moment, Meredith could hear their voices rising and falling, back and forth and on top of each other’s. She muttered a bit drunkenly, "Oooh. Stepping on each other’s lines. Not good. Not good at all." Anxious to hear, she threw back the coverlet, swung her feet over and stood up. Her knees immediately buckled and she promptly sat back down. She thought, Merde! I’ll miss the whole thing if I don’t get over there quick!
Outside, Adam was going full throttle, "Why in the hell didn’t you call? That’s the least you could have done."
Deliberately keeping his voice low, Duncan said, "I believe I already answered that question, Counselor. Let’s move on."
Adam moved closer to Duncan. "Don’t make light of this, MacLeod. It’s serious."
Exasperated, Duncan burst out, "What is it with you? We’ll find the blasted pills sooner or later. They’re probably just..."
"Sooner or later," Adam walked away, then whipped around and spit the words out as if he were shooting nails through his teeth, "sooner or later?"
Duncan’s voice sounded low and angry and even. "That’s what I said. Tell me why you’ve gone off half-cocked like this. And it better be a damn good reason. I’m exhausted. Now, why the hell--"
"I’ll tell you why the hell. I’ll tell you exactly why the hell."
Inside, ear to the door near the bed, Meredith was disappointed that she could not make out the words. Duncan was easy to hear, but Adam’s voice was too low in volume. A cruise boat went by on the river, covering all sound but its own, and the barge swayed, as the waves slapped at the sides. For Meredith, that set the room whirling. She took a breath and leaned against the cool wall and closed her eyes. I think I drank more than I thought I did, she thought and groaned softly. I never have more than one glass. What was I thinking?
Outside, Adam was angrier than Duncan had ever seen him. That set Duncan to wondering if he had ever really seen Adam angry. Adam had shown his disgust and irritation before, but was never really so angry that he spit when he talked. Hunh! Duncan didn’t realize he had made the sound aloud. He felt as though his thoughts were slogging through mud.
Stopping mid-sentence, Adam glared at him. "Are you listening to me, MacLeod?"
Duncan waved his hand. "Pray continue."
Adam actually ground his teeth for a moment while he took hold of his emotions. "You want to know why I’m upset with you, right, MacLeod? Do you?"
"Ummm," Duncan nodded, feeling mellow with the alcohol saturating his hungry body. Hm, no more headache. Better. His stomach growled.
Adam inhaled deeply. "It’s because Meredith needs that medication to make her heart beat in the correct rhythm. Without it, she has these...palpitations, these...almost like little heart attacks." Duncan frowned in disbelief. "It’s true. I’m telling you the truth. She didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to worry. So what do you do? Spend two weeks God knows where–"
"I told you where I was. Heart attacks? She never told me anything about heart attacks. She did mention anxiety when she was younger and was trying to get into the opera and so on, but, heart attacks?" He sounded incredulous.
"You heard me. And to make matters worse, most of the pharmacies were clo--"
Duncan talked loudly over him. "Well, why didn’t you just go to the doctor? Or the hospital? Surely they would have had the medicine she needed."
"If you’ll be quiet and listen..." came back with exaggerated sarcasm.
Duncan held up both hands in surrender and weaved the slightest bit as the barge undulated beneath his feet. Adam continued, "Most of the pharmacies in Paris are closed for the holiday. Have been since Thursday. The one Maurice found refused to fill–"
"Maurice? What has Maurice got to do with this?"
"If you don’t shut up, MacLeod, and let me tell you–"
"All right, all right."
"I was not about to leave her alone in the barge with only Maurice to fend off the stray thug who might happen along." One thing Adam was good at was sarcasm. " So I had to send him out to try and find one that was open. Everything was closed. There was not even a –"
"Did you try the hospital?" Duncan could not help but ask again. Sarcasm found its way into his voice as well, "There are usually at least one or two doctors to be found there." I know I’m right on that, he thought, and added, "and plenty of drugs."
Adam clenched and unclenched his fists. He spoke quite softly. "If you do not stop talking and let me finish telling you, I swear I"ll–"
"I’ll be quiet, I really will" Duncan promised. Adam opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan continued, "I don’t know what’s taking you so long to get it out, anyway. You don’t usually have this problem." Duncan rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Both men’s breath came as cloudy puffs of mist in the cool night air.
Adam gripped the wrought iron deck chair till his palms were scored by the sharp painted edge of the fancy grill work. "And you’re not usually this drunk," he remarked bluntly.
"I’m not drunk, I’m–"
"MacLeod!"
"Hungry," Duncan completed his sentence, "and tired."
Adam waited, determined to bring his temper under control. When Duncan said nothing more, Adam asked, "Finished?"
Duncan, knowing he had as little patience left as Adam, and that he would react badly very shortly if Adam continued as he was going, asked quietly, "Why didn’t you just take her to the hospital?"
"Don’t be an ass, MacLeod," Adam retorted.
Duncan glared ominously and began, "Don’t be calling me an ass." He was just too tired for this.
"Then stop acting like one." Adam stared at Duncan and Duncan glowered at Adam, seriously considering whether to go with a right hook, an uppercut, or a solid body blow. Adam expelled his breath in exasperation. "I’ll spell it out for you, all right? The last time she was in hospital in Paris, remember? just two weeks ago, it was a freaking circus. Do you remember that? Paparazzi everywhere, unauthorized people running around the halls, there was no way we could secure her safety and she very nearly got whacked, killed, as in dead, MacLeod. You do remember that?"
Duncan took a threatening step toward Adam, his voice resonant, his reply brief, "I remember."
"The whole blasted city has been on vacation, and that includes the pharmacies and the doctors. And I tried to convince her to go to the emergency room, but she would have none of it and I can’t say that I blame her, after what happened before. But she desperately needed that medicine. She’s...you’re not supposed to...It’s-" Adam took a deep breath" ...She’s been on that medicine for quite a while, she said, and you’re not supposed to just stop it ‘cold turkey’. It regulates her heart and without it, her whole system is out of sync. She..." Adam’s voice had changed, without his realizing it, and his _expression softened as he struggled for words, the pictures in his mind of the last two weeks all too clear. "It’s been a nightmare for her. She has rarely slept at all and when she did, the nightmares were frightful. Yes, nightmares. I think part of it was side effects, or withdrawal maybe, and part was the trauma of what happened, you know, in Ireland, the stress and the pain from the fall. She wouldn’t talk about it, but I knew she was in much more pain than she would admit to me, it hurt her just to breathe, and the headaches,"Adam rubbed his forehead, "they were blinding–they made her nauseous, and she...she..."
Duncan listened as Adam described Meredith’s predicament, his voice full of emotion. Duncan could not recall his laconic friend ever stringing together so many words at one time. He shook his head to clear it. Adam was still talking. "You sit there and watch that 24 hours a day for five days and nights, knowing you can’t leave her alone to go get what she needs and you can’t take her out because she’s too ill and there’s not one real thing you can do to help her except send Maurice out looking for a pharmacy that’s actually open and he finds one but comes back empty handed because they don’t have the medicine..." Suddenly Adam was angry again and his eyes blazed at Duncan, who was staring at him in amazement. Adam paused, gathering himself. Nearly a full minute passed in silence. Adam’s voice was icy when he spoke again. "You just don’t get it, do you, MacLeod? You haven’t a clue."
Wearily, Duncan wondered what else there could be for him to ‘get’, but answered, "All right, I’ll bite. Enlighten me. But make it quick, will you?"
Duncan’s answer served only to infuriate Adam further. "You don’t even know her. She’s been in your keep for nearly three weeks now for the first time in fourteen years, and you haven’t the foggiest notion of who she really is."
"Who she is? Of course I know who she is! Don’t be ridiculous. And get to the point, will you?"
"That is the point. After what happened in Ireland, and we bring her here without so much as asking if that was indeed what she wanted instead of going to home to America, and two days later, you’re gone and we don’t hear anything for two weeks and her medicine runs out and there are complications and her heart is ... is..." Adam realized his thoughts were running together when he noticed that Duncan continued to stare at him. He moved impatiently, his shoulders swinging around, "Oh, what’s the point with you anyway? Why do I even try?"
Duncan, understanding through his exhaustion, that his friend truly cared for Meredith, said thickly, "Well, I’m here now. So if you want to get out and see if you can do any better, go for it. I know I got the prescription. It’s just a matter of finding where I put it. The pills were $300.00 US." Duncan pulled a wad of bills from his slacks pocket to give to Adam and as he did, a small red prescription bottle fell out. Both men watched it roll around in a circle and stop on the deck at their feet.
A look passed between them. Cat-like, Adam pounced on the bottle and brushed past Duncan saying, "I’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes."
* * * * * *
Inside, Meredith had heard parts of the argument, which had apparently ended because she heard footsteps coming toward the door. She slipped back into the tiny kitchen where the steps were that led down to the extra room where Adam was staying. Her head swam and she held on to the wall to keep her balance. Adam came in, pulling the door solidly closed behind him. He walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen, straight to the refrigerator, pulled a bottle of water and said, "He found the pills." Meredith stepped forward from the narrow, shadowed stairs.
"That’s good. I’m so glad. I knew he would."
Adam opened the bottle, shook out several tablets and asked, "One or two?"
"One."
Will it be all right to take these with all the others you’ve taken..." he paused, eyeing her, "with all that champagne?" He twisted the water bottle open as he spoke.
"Yes," Meredith answered quietly.
Adam regarded her silently, his eyes glittering emerald in the kitchen light. She thought they were quite unlike any others she had seen. She felt her scalp crawl and gooseflesh pop out over her arms and the back of her neck. What is that I see in there? she wondered.
Meredith saw the muscles twitch in his set jaw, yet when he spoke it was a gentle command. "Open."
She obediently opened her mouth and he placed one tablet on her tongue. He gave her the bottle and she chugged the water, gulping the capsule down. "Go easy on that," he instructed her.. "That’s all?" he asked. "No make up doses?"
"That’s all," she replied. "No make up doses."
"Good. Back to bed with you." Adam capped the medicine bottle and set it firmly on the counter. Then, he turned sideways to pass Meredith in the small kitchen, went down the steps, grabbed his travel bag and threw it onto the bed. Holding on to the handrail with both hands, Meredith slowly and silently eased down the four steps, feeling her way with bare feet and toes. She watched Adam open a drawer, pull out jeans and stuff them into the bag. And out of the next drawer, he took sweaters and began to stuff them into the bag as well. She made the two steps to the end of his bed and stood there behind him, taking out each sweater as he stuffed it in. She folded it, weaving pretty badly, and when he stuffed another in, she took it out, replacing it with the folded one.
"I thought I told you to go back to bed." This, tossed over his shoulder.
"Going somewhere?" Meredith ignored his comment. Her knees trembled from the effort to remain standing, so she leaned against the end of the bed.
"What are you doing? I know how to pack."
"Coulda fooled me," she took out the forest green turtleneck he had just thrust into the bag and folded it, smoothing the soft material. She spoke almost as if to herself, "This makes your eyes look so green. But I have to say, they look the greenest tonight I’ve ever seen them, even without this sweater." She frowned, "Or would that be, with it?"
Adam felt his anger dissolve. Her soft voice was sweet and he could not say why it affected him as it did. He took a deep breath and as he exhaled, the fury he had felt toward MacLeod dissipated into nothing. He turned with a rather bland _expression on his face to find her very close to him. She weaved on her feet, still clutching the sweater to her, and in her weave, she leaned against him a little, smiled and pinched his cheek softly, right on the dimple. "There, now, see? All better."
Adam shook his head slightly, glanced aside at his bag with the neatly folded sweaters and could not help but smile as he said, "Madam, I do believe you are under the influence of a bit too much alcohol."
Meredith stood as straight as she could manage and asked indignantly, "Why, whatevah do you mean, suh? I could take exception to that little insinuation, if I were of a mind to."
"Considering the amount you imbibed, I’d have to say--"
"And it was mighty fine, too, mighty fine. You oughta try it sometime." She grinned at him.
He muttered, "I did, if you recall," and turned to close his bag, brushing Meredith lightly in doing so. It was enough to upset her tenuous balance and start her leaning backward.
Saying, "Whoooaaa, there, Nelly," she grabbed his arm and pulled herself back upright. The muscle in his forearm felt like smooth rock in her hand. He steadied her with his other hand, long slender fingers gently positioned under her elbow. Wide blue eyes looking into dark green ones, she said simply, "Adam, please don’t go."
He paused, then replied, just as simply, "I have to, but I’ll be back."
"You’re not...you’re not angry with Duncan, are you? I mean, not really?" There was a little furrow between her eyes and she sounded worried.
"Sometimes..." there was a quizzical look on his face that Meredith could not discern, "sometimes it’s better if there’s a little distance between me and MacLeod. Besides," he gently took the sweater she was holding and tossed it into the bag, "There are some things I want to look into. And, I do have a job, you know, MacLeod’s opinion to the contrary notwithstanding." He faced her again and saw her frown.
"‘S’too many words."
Adam suddenly noticed that Meredith’s peach-colored silk gown was absolutely translucent. He took a moment and allowed his eyes to drink her in, moving his gaze slowly down her body.
She took his breath. Her skin, where there were no bruises, was soft and white. The color of the Irish, he thought. Her forearms had tiny freckles on them and felt smooth to his touch. Her light golden red hair fell in curls around her shoulders. Her breasts were lovely and full and he could barely restrain himself from placing his hands over them and burying his face between them. She definitely did not follow the fads of fashion and starve herself thin, and he was glad. He noticed the color rising in her face and was pleased that his look made her blush.
He could see her ribs through the gown. She had indeed lost weight, as he had thought, since coming to Paris from Ireland. But he loved the curve of her hip from the waist and her soft round stomach. The elegant silk was thin and left no detail of her anatomy to his imagination. Her legs, he could not help but notice, were long and shapely. The gown shimmered slightly as she trembled under his scrutiny. Adam’s eyes returned to her face at last, and there were bright rosy spots on her cheeks. Her eyes, Adam thought, those beautiful, clear eyes are the color of the aqua skies over my ancient Greece. He said, "Sweet, beautiful Meredith," and took her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his. His tongue found hers and played a moment, then pushed past and invaded her. She gasped into his mouth.
It was almost too much for him when he felt her arms go around his neck, boldly pulling him closer to her, her body pressing against his. She responded to his kiss passionately, drawing his tongue into her mouth, darting hers here and there in his mouth. His hands slid gently over her back, pressing her body closer, then moved down to cup her hips and pull her against him, so she could feel his desire for her. She gasped into his mouth again and melted completely into him.
He knew this could not continue, that he had to pull away from her; and it took all his resolve to soften his kisses, to draw back. Meredith responded, in like fashion, pressing her full lips gently against his mouth, softly taking first the top one in, then the bottom one to end the kiss. They were both breathing quickly. He whispered, "I want to make love to you, Meredith, to touch you and taste you and kiss you all over, if you want me to, sweet bébé, and I will, but not here, not now."
Meredith traced the lines in his cheek with trembling fingertips and nodded silently. Adam cupped her derriere again in his hands and whispered, "What a fine, sweet behind, you have, my dear. Don’t you let anyone near it until I get back, is that clear?" He put his lips next to her ear and murmured to her, words for her alone to hear. An excited laugh bubbled out of her.
Her mouth was next to his ear and she whispered, "I’ll hold you to that, you wild, tight-assed Brit." Then she kissed his neck softly and said, "Be safe, Adam. Come back to me."
He pushed her gently away. "It’s going to be damned hard to walk out of here like this," and grinned at her. Meredith turned to reach for his long coat which lay across the bed. Adam watched and enjoyed the fluid grace of her movements, tipsy though she was. She held his coat and he shrugged into it.
"Well, if you have to go, I guess you have to go." She weaved a bit.
"I will be back, bébé, I promise you." He grabbed his bag and headed toward the small door, where just outside, the speed boat was tied to the barge. Then he stopped, turned and quickly reached for her. Sliding his hand under her hair to the nape of her neck, he pulled her mouth to his once more, then he backed away and took one more appreciative look at her. She felt naked under his gaze, but when he smiled at her, his eyes alight, she did not mind.
The door closed. The boat’s motor seemed to explode in the quiet night, then the sound grew softer as Adam moved it away from the barge and, very quickly, was gone. Meredith’s knees were giving way and she sat abruptly on the bed. She still felt the ache he roused in her; he had done it with just a look, this slender, quiet young man whom she barely knew, with his look and with his kiss, he had wakened desire in her that she had repressed for years. Despite the friendship that had grown between them, she felt unprepared for this and she wondered at her own response to him.
Meredith felt a chill and looked around for a cardigan to throw over her shoulders. There was nothing at hand, so she determined to head back to the bed and the warm covers. Her only problem was that her legs did not want to cooperate. When at last she found herself standing, the floor seemed to dip and sway. Landing rather hard up against the chest of drawers, she spied the door knob and lunged toward it, remembering just in time to lift her foot for the first step. With her weight, the door swung a bit and almost knocked her down to the steps. Meredith hung on, finding the third step with her hand to balance herself. "Aha!" she said, "I’ll just crawl up these dumb ole steps. Now I’m using my head."
Gathering her gown up above her knees, she crawled slowly but successfully to the top step, which was the landing just inside Adam’s door. The effort left her gasping for breath. She wondered if she should just crawl on out of the room and how she was ever going to stand up again. Her head swam. The outer door opened and closed. It must be Duncan. Meredith’s heart sank. She had so wanted to be in bed before he came back in.
Suddenly, on the floor in front of her, which she was regarding with intense concentration, two feet appeared. Duncan, she thought. She glanced up at him and said, "Oh, hello, Duncan. I was just looking for a pearl...um, button, no, I mean uh, earring. Yes, that’s it. An earring. And it’s always just one that I lose. Wanna help?"
He sat on his heels in front of her and said, "Meredith?"
She looked at him, surprised. "Wow! That was quick. First you’re waaaaaaaay up there and next thing I know, you’re waaaaaaaaaay down here." She laughed at him. "Wanna help me look?" She patted the floor all around and looked as studiously as she could manage.
Duncan shook his head silently, pinched the bridge of his nose to force the headache away and spoke softly, "Meredith."
She smiled at him and said, "Hi! You’re Duncan MacLeod and this is your barge and I’m vis’tin’, just vis’tin’ till I find my pearl."
Duncan said gently, "You’re absolutely right. How’s about we look another time? Can you stand? Hm?"
Meredith shook her head, "Nope. Everything’s all whirly-swirly. I’m afraid it’s impossible." Then she broke into song, full voice, "It’s impossibllllle..."
Damn Methos. She was well beyond being merely tipsy. What was Methos thinking, letting her drink too much champagne? Duncan slipped his strong hands under her arms, saying, "I’m going to lift you up on your feet, Meredith. Okay? On three. One, two, three." He lifted her easily to the landing.
She said, "Ooooh. That was fast. Duncan, why’s the barge keep leaning over?"
Duncan caught her quickly around the waist as she began tilting backward, and pulled her forward, saying, "Oh, no you don’t. Falling down steps is not allowed around here."
Duncan leaned her against him and thought she looked lovely, even sloshed. She did not stay where he put her long, however. Like icing melting off a cake left too long in the sun, she began slowly sliding down his chest. He lifted her again and she wobbled badly, so he slid his arm under her knees and around her waist, picked her up and began to carry her to the bed. She patted him on the shoulder and said, "What a good idea, Duncan. I shoulda thought of that." Then, "Wait, wait!" she pointed and he turned. She grabbed the bottle of tablets from the counter. "Okay." She held it out ahead of her and said, "Onward, ho!"
He laughed, and she laughed, as well. She looked at him closely, and said, "It’s so good to have you home, Duncan," and she kissed him on his scruffy cheek.
Duncan replied, "Thank you, Meredith. Nice of you to say that."
"No, I mean it! Of course, I would say that I missed you except that I slept most of the time you were gone, except, of course, for the last few days when I really couldn’t sleep much at all because of my head hurting, you know, and some of the time before that, too, when I was awake, when, of course, we talked some, Adam and me, I mean, not you, since you weren’t here, and--"
"Meredith?"
"Hmmm?"
"Did you take the medication?"
She asked, wide-eyed, "Why? Do I seem medicated?"
Duncan laughed outright. "No. You seem...um, intoxicated."
"Oh, that," she sighed, "well, I guess I’d have to say, yes, I am. See, my head hurt so bad that I took a coupla pain pills, then," her voice dropped to a stage whisper, " promise not to tell? I took one more with the champagne, when Adam wasn’t looking."
"Meredith!"
"I know. I know. But Duncan, really I just wanted it to knock me out ‘cause my head felt so bad. I was bein’ a wimp, I know, but I just couldn’t stand it any more. And my heart was kickin’ like a mule. I felt like sayin’," she spread her arms and lifted her feet, "just shoot me. Go ahead and shoot me and get it over with." She fairly collapsed against him, leaning her head over against his.
"Dear Meredith, I’m so sorry." He kissed her on the cheek. Hearing her southern accent brought a feeling of nostalgia to Duncan for the time fourteen years before when she was so young and eager about her singing, and the opera, and life. Just...so young, he thought.
"No, no, Duncan. I’m not fussin’ at you." She patted his chest. "You couldn’t help what happened with the plane and all." She patted his cheek softly, "Sweet Duncan, so handsome, bless your heart, you brought me my medicine that I needed. Thank you sooooo much!" She kissed his cheek with quick little kisses, and over his neck and ear till he laughed. It was as if only a few days had passed rather than fourteen years. She was flushed and looked almost dewy eyed. He thought, If I weren’t so tired...as he placed her on the bed gently. She kept her arms around his neck so his face was close to hers as he leaned over to set her down. "Promise me."
"Promise you what?" he asked, looking into her wide eyes, and thought, Whatever you want, little girl.
"Don’t fret about Adam getting all mad at you. I mean, I know he was worried about me. I’m just glad you got back when you did. He was houndin’ me about goin’ to that hospital again. He was worried, and it just sounded like he was mad. That’s just a–"she waved her hand, searching for a word that her fuzzy thoughts would not give her, " a ..thing he does."
"A ‘thing’?"
"Um-hm." She put her hand on his chest. "I mean you’ve known him longer than I have, of course." Duncan sat on the edge of the bed beside her. Obviously this was going to take more than a few seconds. "And for all the talking we did, he really didn’t say much about himself. Be but that as it may–" she stopped and giggled, then made her face serious and tried to speak clearly, "I mean, but...be...that...as...it...may, he was very patient with me," her fingers played a bit with the buttons on his shirt, "and kind and I think I was a whiney baby. Maybe taking care of me made him feel kinda helpless to fix things, you know?"
Duncan nodded, "I know."
"And that’s why he was so mad at you, you know?" She smoothed his collar and vest.
Duncan nodded, enjoying her touch and the attention she was giving him, "I know."
"So you’ll stay friends and it’ll be all right, right?"
"Adam will be all right. Don’t worry yourself about it." He touched the end of her nose and smiled at her. He was so tired and she smelled so good, he wanted to crawl in bed and collapse in her arms.
She sighed with relief. "Well," her feet slid forward suddenly, and she leaned forward quite unconsciously, her arms still around Duncan’s neck. "Well, I’m glad you’re home, safe and sound. Want somethin’ to eat? There’s fresh strawberries."
He shook his head. "I want to get a shower before anything else happens around here."
"Tha’s a good idea. I know that’ll make you feel better." She pressed her smooth cheek next to his scruffy one and then pressed her lips there as well. "I’m glad you’re home, safe and sound, Duncan. Did I say that already?"
He nodded, smiling, "Me, too, sweetheart. Now, I’m off to the shower," and he gently removed her arms from his neck and placed her hands in her lap and patted them. "Back in a bit."
Meredith lay back against the pillows and he pulled the coverlet up for her, then headed for the bath.
Her head continued to whirl. Why isn’t it getting better? she wondered. Duncan had called her ‘sweetheart’. She smiled. Sweetheart. He’s so sweet, she thought. He always was. Why did he have to go and leave so suddenly all those years ago? Meredith covered her eyes with her arm and thought, No! I’m not going to think about it or I’ll cry like an idiot. I’m here now and he’s here and...she held on to the bedside table while the barge and everything in it whirled around her.
After awhile, Meredith became dimly aware of movement in the barge and wondered if she had slept for a few minutes. Duncan was turning out the lights, all but the small desk lamp. She spoke softly, "Duncan."
"Are you still awake?" he asked.
"Um-hm. Why don’t you lie down? You must be exhausted."
"I am. I will. But, um, I’ll take the sofa, or the extra room."
"No, Duncan you need to sleep in your own bed and get some real rest. I can go sleep in the extra room."
"No, it’s too drafty in there, too cold for you. I’ve got some work to do on that room yet. You’re just fine where you are." He was pouring brandy from the crystal decanter into a snifter in his hand. Without thinking, he politely offered, "Brandy?"
"Sounds lovely. I don’t know, though, I think I’m already pretty...um, pretty...."
"I’m well on my way there myself," he saw one eye peeking at him from under her arm and grinned at her over the glass.
"Well, after that welcome you had..." her voice trailed off.
"How are you feeling anyway?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of the drink.
"Oh, I don’t know, kinda floaty, kinda whirly. The floaty’s nice. The whirly’s not so nice."
He approached, "Then maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to have any of this. It’s pretty strong stuff."
"Oh, hell, who cares?" Meredith sighed loudly. Duncan’s eyebrows rose. That was unusual. Curse words were not in Meredith’s vocabulary, at least they had not been fourteen years ago. She half sat up, leaning on an elbow, and held our her hand. "If it adds to the floaty and makes the whirly go away, I’m all for it."
Duncan crawled onto the bed on knees and elbows, chic in his royal blue silk robe, but somewhat less than graceful as his knees on the robe would not allow him to go forward. "Dammit," he muttered, "can you hold this for me for a sec?"
Meredith giggled at him. "Sure." She took the decanter and glass while he settled himself against the pillows. She surveyed him. "All comfy?"
He grinned. "Yes, ma’am."
She sniffed the brandy and said, impressed, "Smells wonderful."
"Yes." Still grinning, he took the decanter back. Meredith pretended to hold the glass as if unwilling to part with it.
"Um," Duncan tapped the decanter, "I have the bottle."
"So you do, brandy man. S’all right. This’ll do me, I figure."
"Oh, you do, eh?"
"Um-hm."
"So you haven’t tasted it yet."
She lifted the glass. "To your safe return, 007, and the successful completion of the Impossible Mission."
He lifted the decanter. "Thank you, Miss Pennymoney."
Meredith laughed at him. They both took a swallow. She held it in her mouth, then swallowed and promptly coughed as the liquid burned her throat. Duncan chuckled and Meredith, eyes watering, exclaimed, "Whew! It does feel like a fire goin’ down."
"And–" he prompted.
"Absolutely deliciously wonderful on the taste buddies."
"Thought you’d like that." He nodded, pleased. "Bit more?" then backed away, "Or maybe not."
"Wee-ell," Meredith put her thumb and forefinger together so closely they nearly touched, then squinted through them. "Just a little itty bitty, teensy eensy weensy bit, okay?"
"Okay."
She leaned toward him and he leaned toward her, and they both concentrated on connecting decanter with glass. He poured a tall drink. She gave a little huff of breath. "I said, a little bit, Duncan. Weren’t you listening?"
"Yes, but this is for both of us. I’ll finish it for you."
"Well, in that case...never mind." She laughed and Duncan grinned at her. Meredith could not take her eyes off Duncan. She had always thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His black hair was loose and still wet from the shower. He had combed it back and it hung straight to his shoulders. Her inhibitions were lowered and she acted without thinking, and leaning up, she ran her hand over his hair. "I like your hair that way. Looks very elegant."
"Thank you." Duncan’s bloodshot eyes still looked warm as he smiled at her.
Meredith suddenly realized she was leaning the upper half of her body against Duncan’s arm and chest, and so started to back away. Duncan said, "I like you in that gown. It’s very becoming. Makes you look..." he looked her over admiringly, "...just peachy."
He grinned at her and Meredith giggled, then remembered suddenly how sheer the gown was and how low-cut the v-neck front was and hoped desperately that she had not fallen out of it when she leaned forward. But she was too embarrassed to look down. "Thank you, Duncan," then she whispered, "Um, I’m not...that is, I haven’t, um...exceeded the bounds of the material provisions, have I?"
Duncan threw back his head and laughed out loud. "No, sweetheart. You’re covered, for all the good that does." Grinning he took the glass, toasted her with it, and drank half of it.
"Whew. That’s good," Meredith was relieved. "Um...well..." she couldn’t think of anything to say.
Duncan, having had too much alcohol to care about much conversation, leaned across Meredith to put the glass on the table. He could not help but look at her again and he whispered, "You look delicious, baby. I could eat you right up," and his lips pressed her neck just below her ear. A chill ran over Meredith. Her neck was very sensitive and his lips felt amazing. He murmured, "I love peaches and brandy." Duncan’s warm breath and his words and kisses made her senses reel. She began to tremble. "More?"
Meredith thought he meant the brandy. "I don’t think I should. Usually I don’t drink anything a’tall. I hope I’m not sick in the morning."
Duncan moved closer and put his arm around her shoulder. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. By the way, it’s already ‘in the morning.’"
Meredith felt a bit uncomfortable. She thought fuzzily, Looks like Duncan wants to cuddle. "Well, I s'pose that would be all right," Meredith thought she was thinking, but was surprised to hear her own voice saying the words.
"What's that?" Duncan asked softly, nuzzling her neck.
"Just to, um, cuddle a little," she shuddered a little and pulled back from him and held up her finger for emphasis, "just 'cause you were gone so long, that's all. I mished you, Duncan, I wanted to talk to you so much. It's been so long." Meredith looked at his smooth, freshly shaved face. He smelled so good and his golden brown eyes were close to hers, she felt herself swaying toward them, but resisted. No, no. Not this time. His full lips were right there and she shivered, remembering how they felt on her body. That was a memory she had not been able to eradicate from her thoughts, not in the fourteen years that had passed since she had seen him.
Duncan saw her swallow as her eyes rested on his mouth. She forced her head to turn away, thinking, This is crazy. We made love once, years ago, and now I'm here, with him, and he left, and now he's here again, home and he wants me again, and what's worse is, I want him...or, I think I do. Oh God, what do I do? She reached for the glass of brandy.
"Whoa, go easy on that," Duncan took the glass away. She coughed and choked a little as the burning liquid went down her throat. He patted her back and his hand was incredibly warm. He gathered her closer to him and began to massage her neck and shoulders gently, mindful of her injuries. A little sound escaped her throat and Meredith relaxed against him. "Oh, baby, your shoulders are really pretty tight," he murmured against her hair.
"I know," Meredith sighed. "My whole back and everything has been really tense and hurting since that fall."
"Of course, it has. Well, just relax and let me work on it for you." She whimpered softly as his fingers deftly moved over her shoulders and neck. "Did I hurt you?" Duncan paused.
"Huhm-um," Meredith shook her head briefly and nuzzled her face against his neck. Duncan slid down a ways into the pillows and they settled comfortably while he continued to rub her neck. He felt her body relax against him as the Scotch and brandy, as well as his own exhaustion, began to claim him. He became aware of her palm resting on his chest; then, as her fingers played gently with the soft hair that grew there, his body began to respond in spite of his tiredness. He did want her, he admitted to himself, but this was not the time. He wondered thickly if the time would ever be right for them. He decided to gather her into his arms and drew her close to his side, pulling the cover up over her shoulder. Duncan kissed the top of her head and said, "Sleep well, Meredith. I’m glad you're safe in Paris, here on the barge, with me."
Meredith heard his voice fade to a whisper and felt his chest rise and fall beneath her head. Asleep already, she thought. Poor Duncan, so tired. She pressed her lips to his chest and said softly, "You rest well, too, my dear sweet Duncan. I'm so glad you're back home, and," she was whispering now, "even gladder you're holding me so close." And just as her eyes closed in sleep, Duncan, still awake, opened his in wonder and dread at her words.
