Ownership Disclaimer: These characters originated in the deep dark recesses of my mind, and thus belong to no one but me. Copyright © 2000 by Advocate. All Rights Reserved.

Violence/Profanity/and Sexual Content: This story contains moderate levels of violence as well as profanity. This is a work of alternative fiction that depicts two women as well as an opposite sex couple in both a physically and emotionally loving relationship.

Thanks: I've got the best beta readers a bard could hope for. These guys (Barbara, kd, Ellie and Medora MacD) simply rock. They kindly supplied any semi-colons, or other such funky punctuation. Kamouraskan, your editing suggestions were greatly appreciated. In addition to my wonderful beta readers, several friends offered me their support and encouragement. To them I offer a heartfelt thank you.

Dedication: This is dedicated to the one I love. If I had more than my heart to give… I would already be yours.

Comments or Questions to: advocate8704@yahoo.com

"Is this better?" Doug set the flashlight on the table between the beds, shining its light straight onto the ceiling.

"Much."

The motel's power had gone out about 30 minutes into the movie and with a quiet click, the TV picture went dark along with the rest of the room. The teens groaned simultaneously. If it weren't for bad luck, they'd have no luck at all.

Despite the late hour, neither wanted to go to sleep and end their evening. They'd waited months to see each other face-to-face again and knew their foolish flight from the island was probably going to cut the rest of their trip short.

Doug, who wasn't even dry yet from his last trip outside, had sought out a candle from the desk clerk. The man flatly refused to provide one, saying that if he gave out candles every time the goddamn power went out, some fool customer would have burned the place down long ago. After all, what other job would pay him to sit on his butt and watch the races all day long? He loved this motel! Doug's brow had creased in frustration. He couldn't argue with that. But after the young man threatened to check back every ten minutes all night long, just in case he had changed his mind, the clerk relented and handed over an old flashlight he kept in a drawer below the cash register.

Now both teens sat in the semi-darkness with nothing to do other than think about what they could be doing. An awkwardness that they'd never experienced settled over them as each mind raced for a suitable suggestion. They had no money. They had no car. They couldn't stay outside and it was the middle of the night.

"How about a drink?" Marcy offered bravely, remembering the beer she'd taken from the refrigerator when they left Cobb Island.

"I still can't believe you stole that," Doug joked, placing another pillow behind his shoulders as he leaned against the headboard. "Our only prayer is that they don't notice that it's missing."

"I thought it was a case of soda! I didn't even notice it was beer until we'd already left the island," Marcy complained. "Would you have gone back to return it?"

Doug shook his head, wondering why things with Marcy always start out so simple and then go straight to hell. "No way, man!"

"Do you think they'll believe it was an accident?" the brunette asked hopefully.

"Suuuurre," the teen drawled. "We'll explain about 'accidentally' taking the beer, right after we tell them how it was a marauding band of rednecks that kidnapped us from the island. But then we escaped and were forced to spend the night together in a sleazy motel because we couldn't remember Kayla's cell phone number and didn't want to disturb your parents by calling and asking for it," the boy snorted.

"But the part about the beer is true," Marcy whined, affecting a sad face.

Doug's gaze was unerringly drawn to Marcy's full, pouting lower lip. She has such a pretty mouth. I wonder what it would feel like if that perfect lip began to caress...

"Hello, Doug!" Marcy waved her hand in front of Doug's face. "Are you still in there?"

"Huh?" Doug's eyes snapped up.

Marcy frowned. "Why is your mouth hanging open like that?"

Doug clamped his jaw shut and swallowed audibly, choking slightly on his own drool. "Well, are you gonna give me one of those beers or what?" he finally asked moodily. UGGHHHHHH!!!!!

Marcy got out of her bed and joined Doug on his. "Doug, now that I think about it, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"C'mon, Marse! We're already over our heads in shit. What's a couple more feet now?"

The girl laughed. "Well, when you put it so eloquently, I do see your point." Oh well, in for a dime... "The beer is in the bathroom." Maybe a few beers will loosen him up a bit. He hasn't even tried to kiss me! Marcy wasn't entirely sure how much beyond kissing she was comfortable with... but he could at least try to seduce her. What kind of boyfriend was he?

"I don't even want to know why you put it in there." Doug pushed himself off the bed and away from temptation personified. He was never going to make it 'til morning without begging her for sex. He just knew it. But the scariest part was, deep down he was getting the feeling that Marcy would say yes.

Marcy heard a sharp tearing sound as Doug tore open the paper case. "Hey Dougie, we can't buy any beer on our own. If we just take back all the cans they'll know we didn't drink…"

"HISSSSS…" the beverage dutifully sounded as Doug cracked open the can.

"…any," she finished lamely.

*******************

Liv and Kayla silently reclaimed their spots on the couch in the library, side-by-side, thighs pressing tightly together, both facing the picture window that looked out onto the black churning sea. Kayla settled the book between them again, this time wrapping her arm around Liv's shoulder and peering interestedly at the letters she couldn't understand.

A happy grin plastered itself onto Liv's face and the blonde immediately gave into the impulse to kiss Kayla on the cheek. She pointed to one of the many candles that surrounded them. "Can you bring that one just a little closer?"

Kayla wordlessly obeyed, moving the candle until Liv nodded.

"Thanks." Liv studied the page briefly. "It looks like more of Afia's narration. I think she's interspersed bits throughout the text. She's indented her portions so they're actually pretty easy to pick out." Liv flinched at the sound of more thunder but paused for only a second before losing herself in the text.

"The day Master Redding and his wife came home to Cobb Island, I spent most of the afternoon pacifying, although in very different ways, Master's 13-year-old twin daughters Elizabeth and Judith. Or Night and Day as the slaves call them. They are both dark-haired, beautiful girls, tall and slender, each with piercing gray eyes that remind me of the jungle cats that frightened me so as a child. They are like the snowflakes that dust the island in winter and fascinate me beyond reason. At first sight they appear exactly the same. But when you pay them more than a passing glance, see and not just look, you find that they are truly distinct.

"Judith, the older by mere minutes, spent the afternoon weeping in her room, heartbroken that her father, who stood only feet outside the house, hadn't bothered to come in and greet them. She became so melancholy that even Elizabeth attempted to break her out of her mood. Judith is a stubborn but gentle soul, who tends toward poetry and drawing as a way to while away the hours. Her undoing, I am convinced, will be the bond she shares with her sister.

"For every ounce of warmth and kindness that is found in Judith, Elizabeth is lacking. She is selfish and spoilt and spends hour upon hour in this house's library, devouring page after page of the dusty old books as though her very salvation depends on it. There is a darkness about her that the slaves have come to fear. The fear is not unwarranted.

"They say when 'Night' was born, in a jealous fit she tried to steal her newborn twin's soul. And that it was through force of will alone that Judith drew her first breath, long after the midwife had given up on her. Had you asked me on that sunny September afternoon when Master Redding arrived home, if this story was true, I would have merely laughed and called it fanciful, a tale imagined by restless slaves. But now, when I look into her eyes, a chill runs through my veins. I am certain the tale is true, though undoubtedly Judith will never forsake her because of it.

"My real memories of that day, however -- the ones I cling to after all that has been said and done -- are of Mistress Bridget and Mistress Faylinn. For I believe, although neither of them knew it at the time, that it was that very night that they fell in love."

 

Liv looked up from the book. "Whoa. They fell in love? With each other?"

"I wouldn't think that would shock you, Liv," Kayla snorted.

"It doesn't shock me," she growled playfully. "It just doesn’t seem like a very good idea."

Kayla shifted her arm, snuggling a little closer to the smaller woman. "Maybe they couldn't help themselves. Maybe their hearts decided for them." Maybe she blinked her eyes and it was right there in front of her.

"How sweet!" A delighted smiled broke out across Liv's face. "I would have never suspected you for a softy," she laughed. And maybe you're right.

********************

"But Cyril..."

"I said no!" Cyril angrily slammed his fist down on the long cherry dining table, rattling the elaborate place settings and causing the table's occupants to grab their glasses to avoid a watery mess.

Faylinn's stomach clenched as she nervously twisted the fabric of her dress. Why is he being so unreasonable? Why is he always? was her mind's immediate retort. "But..."

"No buts! Why do I keep a full stable of house slaves…" he gestured widely with both hands, "… if not to be able to eat my dinner in peace? I will not have the child anywhere near the table or our bedchamber for that matter!" he roared.

"In England..."

"We were in your father's home," he interrupted. "I am master of this one!"

Faylinn fought hard not to flinch as his voice boomed. It was enough that he had bought and paid for her future with the ease of any formal business transaction; she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Her eyes drifted to Afia, who was holding the fitful 2-year-old just outside the doorway of the candlelit dining room, cautiously awaiting the outcome of this argument. She briefly wondered whose plight was worse, the woman who shared Master Redding's bed or the one who made it. Faylinn schooled herself in patience. "I asked Mary to bring the baby downstairs if she couldn't get him to sleep. He's been at sea for weeks and..."

"Enough!" Cyril jumped out of his seat, throwing his fork onto his dinner plate which sat empty. Everyone was still awaiting Bridget's arrival. Unexpectedly, the tall man's hand shot out and wrapped 'round Faylinn's upper arm, roughly yanking her to her feet.

Judith looked away, her appetite gone.

Elizabeth, however, cocked her head slightly to the side, watching the interplay between her father and his wife in rapt fascination. Faylinn had been as docile as a lamb all evening. Agreeing with her father where appropriate, and serving him dutifully during the few moments when the slaves were out of the room attending to the meal. Even when he simply grew tired of the sound of her voice and rudely commanded that she 'shut up', Faylinn had said nothing, meekly complying with only an embarrassed blush. But now, when it came to the child, Elizabeth could see her new mother would not be so easily silenced.

"Do I need to remind you of your place within this household, dearest wife...?" Cyril threatened coldly, pulling Faylinn toward him until she was leaning across the table, her already ample cleavage accentuated by her new position. "Allow me to refresh your memory. It is beneath me," he hissed quietly, his mustache so close that the prickly hairs tickled her lips. Then, with a deep exhale, he pulled back slightly and visibly calmed. "I would hate to discipline you in front of the children," he added conversationally, gently stroking her cheek with the back of his hand in an unsettlingly tender gesture. "It would put such a damper on my homecoming celebration, don't you agree?"

Green eyes flashed for only a second before dropping to the table. "Of course. Forgive me, husband." The words grated at her soul. She pushed away her natural tendency toward anger, embracing a resigned sadness instead. Faylinn bowed her head, as much to escape Cyril's foul breath as to show her obedience. The walls are closing in on me. "I will leave you to enjoy your meal and attend to Henry myself."

Cyril released his grip on her arm, smoothing a small bow that circled the puffed, ivory colored sleeve of Faylinn's dress with exaggerated care. "You will remain here." Straightening his own scarf, he reclaimed his seat. "The slaves will care for Henry." And with that, the subject was closed.

"I am ready for my dinner," he informed the young boy who stood poised at the entrance of the dining room, awaiting his Master's command. As the boy hurried out of the room, Cyril heard the soft but sure footsteps of his sister. "Punctual as always," the elder Redding commented sarcastically, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

"I'm afraid I was delayed in the stables. It seems Apollo threw a shoe. My apologies, brother," Bridget added graciously, her gaze never wavering from Faylinn's as she descended the stairs that led directly into the far end of the room.

Faylinn felt as though the air had been sucked from her chest when piercing, sky-blue eyes captured hers. My God! Unconsciously, she leaned against the cool wood of the table's edge, bracing herself. I can hardly believe that's the same woman from the dock this afternoon! For a moment she lost herself in a sea of blue. Breathe, Faylinn.

"Well, it's about bloody..." Cyril paused when noticed the look on his daughters' faces. Judith lips had curled into a small smile, while Elizabeth's mouth shaped an incredulous frown, but somehow they both looked astonished. Cyril turned around, his long ebony curls draping over one shoulder as he twisted. He expected to see an apparition. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Bridget in a dress that their mother had purchased for her birthday, some five years earlier. At the time, Bridget had refused to wear it, thumbing her nose at English convention and fashion. Cyril's chest puffed up with pride. It was only fitting that she chose to wear it on his homecoming. Despite her appalling attire earlier, maybe time had mellowed the headstrong 25-year-old, and she'd finally come to her senses. Not likely, he snorted.

Bridget swept past Cyril, the mid-length train of her gown swishing gently around long legs. She stopped to greet her nieces, dropping her eyes from Faylinn's for the first time since entering the room. Bridget offered Elizabeth a short nod, not bothering to try to speak with the malevolent child, but vowing to talk with Cyril about the girl's 'abilities' once they were alone.

Judith, however, despite being seated, received a playful pinch to the rump as Bridget passed. The girl clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

You needn't act as though you've never seen me in anything other than britches and buckskin, Bridget silently directed to her smiling niece.

The thick dark mane that blew wildly around Bridget's shoulders hours earlier had been tamed into a single, smoothly plaited braid running down the center of her back. Her dress was a shiny midnight blue with brown and gold piping that ran the lengths of long, snug fitting sleeves. A gently scooping neckline showed off tan skin and broad shoulders, its fitted corset, a lean waistline. Hiding beneath the dark skirts was a bright gold underskirt that peeked out when Bridget held up her hemline to walk. She was simply stunning.

The youngster's giggles increased. If the shoe fits, Auntie.

All right, Bridget conceded with a raised eyebrow and slightly crooked grin. Maybe it has been a while.

As Bridget slowly made her way around the enormous table she took the time to appreciate her brother's wife. Faylinn was the epitome of youthful beauty and femininity. Her gown was the palest of blues with three-quarter length ivory sleeves whose cuffs were decorated with small ribbons tied into bows. Red-gold hair was pulled up into a loose roll with several free wisps curling softly around her cheeks.

Clear emerald eyes followed Bridget on her journey, drawing an unconscious smile from the taller woman.

A silent laugh. Not so loud, Aunt Bridget. And yes, I agree. Faylinn does have startlingly beautiful eyes.

Bridget stopped dead in her tracks as a chill passed through her. Turning slightly, she could only stare at Elizabeth. She hadn't directed her thoughts toward her. How could she have known I was thinking about Faylinn? Only the stronger telepath can break in and hear without permission!

The girl grinned wickedly, gray eyes dancing with devilment, knowing what she'd just revealed. I've been practicing. And you're very lucky father doesn't know what you're thinking about his wife. Privately, she thought her father a pompous buffoon. That, however, did not excuse Bridget's flagrant impudence! He was the head of household, and she his daughter. Surely, her stature as his direct descendant was more important than that of his sibling? But Bridget had never accorded her or her father their due, plainly preferring her unassuming sister.

Auntie, I'd run you through if she were my bride. Elizabeth sniggered disgustedly, knowing that Bridget's 'admiration' was not of the sisterly variety. Then she felt a sudden, almost painful void as Bridget's mind completely closed to her. Her hands flew to her ears as her Aunt's voice boomed in her head.

The projection was so loud that Judith's eyes snapped up, the words echoing in her own head, albeit not nearly so loudly. Cyril, whose own abilities were eclipsed by those of his sister and daughters, sat oblivious to their wordless conversation, wondering why Bridget and Elizabeth were exchanging murderous glances and Faylinn was still on her feet, gazing intently at his sister.

When Bridget finally reached Faylinn's side she leaned down and placed a tender kiss on the smaller woman's cheek. "Good evening, Faylinn."

Warm breath and soft lips caressed Faylinn's skin for the barest of seconds before they were gone. God, what is wrong with me? Faylinn felt weak in the knees. Bridget looked... felt... like a different woman. On the dock this afternoon, the tall beauty had pulsed with a dark, feral energy that flickered only a hairsbreadth below the surface. Tonight, that energy seemed to be channeled into a bright, radiant elegance that commanded the room's attention with its presence alone. The redhead found both personas utterly compelling and undeniably attractive.

"Good evening, Bridget." Green eyes easily telegraphed awe. "You are simply divine," she muttered sincerely, just loud enough for everyone to hear. The words escaped quite without permission, causing Faylinn's eyes to go almost comically round. By God, girl, shut up! Have you gone mad?

But Faylinn's mental slip was quickly smoothed over when Judith broke in and commented, "That dress is quite lovely." The girl had placed an almost imperceptible emphasis on the word 'dress', receiving a grateful look from Faylinn who nodded her agreement.

"Yes, it is," the flustered redhead repeated the sentiment as she took her seat, hoping the heat in her cheeks didn't look as pronounced as it felt.

Cyril looked back and forth between Faylinn and Bridget quizzically before agreeing with his wife. "Quite."

"Master Redding?" the boy who had gone to fetch dinner reluctantly interrupted from just inside the doorway, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He nearly fell when Afia gently nudged him aside so she could enter the room behind him.

Faylinn looked questioningly at Afia, who smiled and nodded, indicating that the toddler had finally gone to sleep. The young mother let out a shuddering breath.

Cyril stared at the boy's empty hands. Did no one obey him? Where was his damned dinner?! "You had best explain yourself, boy."

"The ship that dropped off you and Mistress Redding on the Island this afternoon has returned. A launch is on its way to shore right at this very moment, Master."

For the first time all evening Cyril smiled. "Excellent!" The man practically jumped to his feet. "I have business to attend to then. Dinner can wait," he called over his should as he strode out of the room.

"Welcome home, father," Judith whispered as she bolted out of the room in tears, distraught that the evening she'd intended to spend with her father was ruined.

Elizabeth felt her own eyes mist over, but stubbornly refused to let a single drop fall. He said it was business after all. She'd see him later. Lifting her chin, she followed her despondent sister, already thinking of ways to make her smile.

Both Faylinn and Bridget stood up to go after the girls, but Afia held up a forestalling hand.

"I'll go after them and bring supper to their rooms," the black woman assured. Dark eyes focused on Bridget. "Child, you know they'll only accept comfort from each other. That's the way of it with those two."

"I know." Bridget sighed frustratedly. "Cyril is such a bastard!" she growled, then remembered she was in the company of his wife. "Faylinn, I'm sorr…"

Faylinn waved off her apology, agreeing completely, but politely keeping the uncharitable thought to herself.

Bridget tried not to grin as the sentiment flashed clearly in her mind.

Pale brows creased. "But I should go and try to talk with them." Although they were nearly young women themselves, she was their mother now.

"It won't do any good, Faylinn," Bridget admitted with a frown. "Elizabeth will simply lock her door, and Judith with undoubtedly be at her side when she does. They'll only come back down when they're ready. Nothing you or I could say or do would change that."

Afia patted Faylinn's back reassuringly, already liking this eager young woman. "You just relax Mistress Faylinn. I'll see to the girls and then check on Master Henry as well. Poor tyke was so exhausted when he finally went to sleep, I doubt I'll hear a peep out of him until morning."

"Thank you, Mary." Faylinn smiled gratefully. "But I'll be up to check on him later."

Afia bowed her head slightly. "As you wish, Mistress."

Bridget leaned back against the table as Afia disappeared up the stairs, leaving her alone with Faylinn for the first time. She tried to think of something to say but found herself curiously tongue-tied around the pretty woman.

"Is your horse all right?" Faylinn finally asked, leaning against the table alongside Bridget but still facing the staircase, her mind split between her sleeping son and the beauty at her side.

"Apollo is fine. He only threw a shoe. He wasn't injured."

"He looks young."

Dark eyebrows lifted. "You know about horses then?"

"Oh my, yes!" Faylinn assured quickly, immediately warming to the topic. "My family has always raised horses. Your stallion is beautiful, though still a bit wild by the looks of it."

Bridget smiled, clearly detecting the Scottish brogue that was mostly missing from Faylinn's speech, except, apparently, when the redhead got excited and spoke rapidly. "Would you like to see him? I was going to go out to the stable after dinner anyway."

Faylinn nodding excitedly, wanting to spend more time with what she considered the most intriguing thing about Cobb Island.

"Good. I'll meet you here in the dining room in an hour." Bridget's lips curved into a sheepish, lopsided grin. "I'm afraid it will take me at least that long to get out of this dress and into something better suited for the stables." She took a step toward the stairs only to be stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Where... where are you going?"

Bridget looked puzzled. "To my room to change clothes." Hadn't she just said that?

"I know... I mean exactly where. I want to look in on Henry and I know his room is somewhere near yours. But I can't make heads nor tails of the layout of this house."

Blue eyes rolled. "Cyril spent months with architects back in London designing this ridiculous maze he calls a home. It took me days before I could navigate my way around." The taller woman offered her arm gallantly and bowed regally at the waist. "Would you allow me to escort you to your bedch..." she hesitated briefly not wanting to mention the bedchamber she knew Faylinn would share with her brother. Even the thought of it mysteriously made her head pound and stirred an anger deep within her. "Allow me to escort you upstairs?"

"Yes, please." Faylinn curtsied playfully then took Bridget's arm. But Bridget's reluctance to mention her and Cyril's bedchamber didn't go unnoticed, the thought of sharing a bed with her husband causing her own stomach to roil. Since her pregnancy they hadn't slept in the same room. While this didn't stop Cyril from occasionally visiting her room, where she was not-so-pleasantly reminded of her wifely duties, it did afford her a measure of privacy that she'd come to not only expect... but crave. But didn't he mention 'our' bedchamber with regard to Henry tonight? She cringed at the thought, hoping she'd somehow misunderstood.

Bridget felt a tremor run through Faylinn and unconsciously moved a bit closer as they walked. "Is something wrong?" she inquired as they navigated the stairway that was lit by several softly glowing oil lamps.

Faylinn shook her head; not wanting to have her time with Bridget marred by ugly thoughts. "Tell me about the Colonies, Bridget. I've heard such stories."

Bridget didn't mention Faylinn's obvious change of subject. She'll come to trust me, given time, she assured herself as they turned onto the second floor.

Faylinn immediately began asking questions about Bridget's manner of dress from the afternoon and the curious drawings that decorated the leather, her animated voice breathing life into the quiet hallways.

My brother is a very lucky man, Bridget thought enviously. And if he ever does anything to harm this lovely creature, I shall kill him myself.

But Faylinn's excitement was contagious and soon all thoughts of her brother vanished as the darker woman began regaling Faylinn with tales of her latest exploration of the mainland, and the natives, and wildlife she'd discovered along the way.

"No wonder she was attracted to her," Liv commented more to herself than Kayla as she looked up from the text, easily picturing Kayla atop Bridget's dancing stallion or in a shimmering satin dress.

Kayla nodded, but her thoughts were centered on Faylinn and how Bridget must have found her irresistible, completely understanding how easy it was to get lost in a pair of soulful green eyes.

Liv lifted her feet from the edge of the coffee table, stretching them out, and shifting sideways a bit so Kayla could move the arm that had been wrapped tightly around her shoulders for the better part of two hours. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin when she was startled by a soft ringing sound. She craned her neck, looking through the shadows of the candlelit room. "What the..."

"It's my phone. I must have left it in here this morning." Kayla sprang to her feet and managed half a step before crashing to the floor. "Oww... Shit!" Not only had she forgotten about her bruised knee, but her other leg had gone to sleep. She curled up on the floor moaning as the millions of tiny pins and needles prickled one leg mercilessly, while the knee on her other leg throbbed.

Liv pushed the book off her lap and scrambled off the end of the sofa over to Kayla. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth. God, why am I always wallowing on the floor like an idiot around her?

The phone rang again but Liv didn't move other than to offer Kayla her hand.

"Get the phone, Liv." Kayla pointed towards a small wooden table under the window she'd opened earlier. "It might be the kids."

Pale eyebrows rose. "Umm... Okay, okay, I got it." She made a dash for the phone, pushing aside the lightly billowing curtains and fumbling briefly before figuring out which button was the 'on' switch. "Hello," she answered quickly, tucking the phone under her chin and, hurrying back over to Kayla to give her a hand up. With a slight tug she encouraged Kayla to lean on her, giving the darker woman a sympathetic pat between the shoulder blades as she helped her friend back to the couch where they both sat down.

"It's her! I... I... I can't believe I finally remembered the number!" the female voice on the phone stopped mid-thought and began to howl with laughter.

Liv grimaced and held the phone away from her ear when a second person's laughter joined the fray. "Who is this?" she demanded curtly. Kayla was hurting and she wasn't in the mood to waste a single moment on some weirdo crank caller.

"Shh... shhh.... Marse.... which one answered it?" a muffled male voice whispered loudly. Then there was a loud clank as the phone fell on the floor and the receiver bounced on the carpet.

Was that Dougie's voice in the background? Liv pressed the phone back to her ear, her brows drawn tightly together as she listened to the conversation on the other end of the line.

"It's not myyyy sister... and boy she shuuuuurr sounds pissed! You are de eh eh eh eh deaaaaaaad meat!" Then the girl broke down into another fit of giggles.

"Marcy, is that you?" Liv asked angrily. If they had the number, why didn't they call before now?!

"It depends on whether you're gonna make us go home from our vacation early," the teenager responded petulantly. "'Cause if your are, then this is NOT Marcy." Her voice suddenly became muffled, and Liv could tell she'd put her hand over the receiver. "Hey, Doug, don't call me Marcy anymore, k?" she called loudly. "People are mad at Marcy and I don't want to be her tonight. Call me Gigi, I've always liked that name. Yuck! Don't lie on the carpet! It's all gross!"

"Ooooo, you're gonna be French?" Doug laughed from his spot on the floor between the beds. He had an empty beer can balanced on his forehead and his arms stretched out at his sides as though he was walking a tight rope.

Green eyes closed as Liv shook her head and let out a soft curse. "They're drunk," she informed Kayla who was already glaring at the phone. "Where are you guys?"

The girl stopped laughing long enough to answer. Gray eyes surveyed the dimly lit motel room seriously before she responded, "Inside."

Liv blew out a frustrated breath. "Inside where, Marcy?"

Marcy's face creased into a frown. "Inside here, of course. Aren't you listening to me?"

Lord, give me patience. "Are you two okay? Do you have a place to spend the night?"

"Ohhhh yeah." Marcy laughed lecherously. "The bed is reeeeealy soft and bouncy. See?"

Liv could hear the loud creaking of incredibly squeaky springs as Marcy tested the bed for a moment before remembering she was on the phone.

"Ewwww... but there are bugs. I don't like bugs. Oh! Oh!!! Did you know your brother is the best kisser ever?"

Liv smiled wryly as she listened to the girl's scattered ramblings. She's so wasted. "No, Marcy, I didn't know that. But I'll take your word for it. Are you at a motel? You need to focus and answer me so we'll know where you two are."

Silence.

"Marcy, are you still there?"

"That's it!" Kayla's temper snapped and she jerked the phone out of Liv's hands. "God dammit it, Marcy! You tell me where your ass is parked, right this very second!" she boomed, drawing a soft chuckle from Liv who was more than happy to relinquish the phone and let Kayla try her hand at wading through the confusion.

Whoa, she's sexy when she's mad. But the blonde admonished Kayla with a reproachful look anyway. "Easy, Kayla, or she'll just hang up."

Kayla nodded grumpily. She hadn't thought of that. And Mama wonders why I don't want children.

"Marcy's not here right now," the girl said in a fake French accent that sounded exactly like a drunk southerner trying to sound French. "This is Gigi. Bye." Then there was a thump, and a curse, and the boinging of bedsprings as Marcy let go of the phone directly over Doug's head and dove under the sheets to hide from her big sister.

"Marcy? Marcy?" Kayla looked at the cell phone receiver blankly, then at Liv. "Who the fuck is Gigi?"

Liv shrugged. "Ask for Dougie. I heard him snickering in the background earlier."

"Doug? Pick up the phone, Doug. I know you're there!"

Doug sat up rubbing his forehead. The receiver had landed right on his perfectly balanced beer can. "This is Pierre. Doug is..."

"Don't screw with me, Doug," Kayla growled.

"Okay," the boy replied instantly.

"Are you both okay? Other than being piss-ass drunk I mean."

"We're not that drunk." Doug held his finger and thumb tiny distance apart. "We only drank a little."

"You didn't drink the entire case, did you?"

"Nooo! There's a lot left.

"A lot?"

Doug burst out laughing. "Well, some."

"Do you know what motel you're in?" The boy seemed a little better off than her sister, but not much. They were going to have such a hangover tomorrow.

"I dunno." Doug scrunched his face up tightly. "It's by ummm... hamburgers... you know, the eating place. God, I wish I had some french fries."

"Get a phone number," Liv whispered to Kayla.

"He doesn't even know where they are, Liv. You expect him to know the phone number?"

"Tell him to look on the phone. The number is usually printed right there," the linguist reminded.

Kayla nodded. "Doug, look on the phone and tell us the phone number."

"Okay... Umm... It's too dark."

"Are your eyes open?" she questioned dryly.

"I think so. Yeah... Nevermind, I found it. It's 9-1-1." There was a pause. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

Kayla's head sagged and she wordlessly handed the phone back to a smirking Liv.

"Hi, Dougie. You guys call us in the morning, okay," Liv requested calmly. There was no reason to go apeshit now. They were both safe and there was nothing she could do about the situation anyway. Tomorrow would just have to be soon enough.

"Is Kayla taking care of you?"

"What?" That wasn't a question she expected.

"The storm. I know you hate storms. I'm sorry, Liv. I should be there with you. I really, really should," he admitted guiltily.

Liv could practically see him running a hand through his disheveled curls, his toe twisting its way into the carpet.

"Liv, sometimes somebody needs to take care of you, too."

Liv's heart lurched a bit at the sentiment and the sound of her brother's suddenly melancholy voice. How was she ever going to stay angry with Dougie long enough to kill him when he said stuff like that?

The linguist turned to Kayla and smiled warmly, letting the affection she felt for the taller woman show plainly in her eyes. It was immediately reflected back at her in brilliant blue.

"Yeah." she cleared her throat softly, surprised at its sudden tightness as she placed the icepack back on Kayla's knee. "We're taking good care of each other. You do the same for Marcy, all right? Don't do something you'll regret later, Dougie. Neither one of you is thinking straight right now," she warned, hoping her brother wasn't too drunk to know what she meant. She only barely resisted the urge to yell, "No having sex!" The only thing that stopped her was the certain knowledge that it wouldn't do any good anyway.

"I'll be a perfect gentlemen," he swore solemnly, his mind happily shifting to the lump under the bed sheet.

Liv opened her mouth to say something else but stopped when she heard a loud groan and several anguished murmurs in the background.

"Uh Oh. No, Marcy, use the trash can..." Doug's voiced sounded desperate. "Don't... No... Oh, gross!"

And then the line went dead.

"Ewww! In this heat that's not going to be pretty," Liv snorted disgustedly before turning the phone off and setting it on the coffee table alongside the history. "Well, at least we know they're someplace out of the storm. They'll be okay," she added firmly, feeling secure in that knowledge for the first time since that morning. Her relief was palpable.

"I guess that's something," Kayla acknowledged, closing her eyes and wincing a little as she felt steady hands adjust the ice pack on her knee again.

Liv flashed her companion an empathic smile. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you. I would never, ever, do that intentionally," she promised softly. On impulse, she lifted off the icepack and placed a soft kiss on the swollen knee.

Kayla jumped at the feeling of warm lips and hot breath on her icy skin.

Liv grinned against the flesh then moved a few inches higher, soft hair dragging across Kayla's naked thigh as she deposited several more tender kisses.

The taller woman moaned loudly, as a bolt of heat shot straight through her groin. She laughed weakly when Liv lifted her head and wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously. "You're mean, Liv."

Grinning from ear to ear, the blonde drew herself back up to Kayla's lips where she whispered quietly, "No, I'm not. I'm really nice, I swear."

Kayla leaned forward just a fraction and brushed her lips against Liv's, reveling in their warmth and softness and drawing a breathy sigh from her companion when they finally parted.

"Maybe I should have told your sister that you're the best kisser ever, too," Liv murmured dreamily, her eyes still closed.

Kayla laughed, loving the look on Liv's face and feeling a thrilling sense of satisfaction that it was directed towards her.

Finally.

Is this what falling in love feels like? Kayla shook her head in pure amazement. I never knew. A feeling of happiness welled within her, making her heart ache in a way she'd never experienced. A good way.

Liv sucked in a breath as an overwhelming surge of joy washed over her, tickling her consciousness for a split second before enveloping her. "That was you, wasn't it?" she asked, inhaling sharply and opening surprised eyes, her voice tinged with wonder and confusion.

White teeth glinted. "Yeah, if you're talking about a pretty great feeling, then I guess that was me."

Liv shifted her head to the side as she thought, absently stretching her neck and causing Kayla's gaze to roam along the smooth skin of her throat, then over soft red lips, finally landing on slightly glassy eyes.

"Liv, are you doing okay with this? I know it's sort of..." Sort of what? Personal. Intense. Scary. Invasive. "... a lot to handle," was what she finally settled on, although it didn't seem to be nearly enough. It will always be like this with me, Liv. And once you learn to control it, it will only get stronger as words blend in with the images and pictures start to form in your head. But the feelings... I can't explain the feelings. I've only ever felt those with you.

"Yeah." Liv worried her lower lip as she contemplated how to put into words what was so sketchy in her own mind, but realized that if anyone would understand, it would be Kayla. "It's a little scary, feeling like someone is inside your head with you and vice versa. And it sort of leaves me feeling... um... out of control, ya know?"

Kayla nodded and held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as a knot formed in her stomach.

"But in a way, it feels good, too. It's foreign, but still natural." She ducked her head, wondering when she became so inarticulate. "I'm probably not making any sense."

Kayla started to breathe again, her heart having skipped a beat. "No. You're making perfect sense. It's pretty much the way I feel, only I've had my whole life to get used to it."

Liv's glance flickered upward for the briefest of seconds before dropping to her lap. "It sort of makes me feel closer to you." Please don't let that be a bad thing -- something I'll miss when we leave this place and each other. She swallowed hard. Just the thought of not seeing Kayla again caused her chest to tighten painfully. No. I don't want that, her mind whispered as she felt the beginning of unexpected tears and she turned away from her friend.

Kayla caught a glimpse of sadness in watery green eyes before Liv turned away, not having time to wonder about its context before a jagged streak of lightning tore through the night sky, calling her attention outside of the window. She closed tired eyes, deeply inhaling in the fragrance of the salty ocean, and wet wood, and a light floral shampoo that wasn't her own, which brought an unconscious smile to her face.

Liv wiped her eyes with an angry hand, hoping Kayla wouldn't notice. But she felt gentle fingers grasp her chin, tilting her face up until she was forced to meet Kayla's worried frown.

"Hey..." A gentle thumb brushed Liv's cheek. "What's wrong?"

Damn. "Nothing... I mean..." Liv stopped when she saw the look of hurt flash across Kayla's face at her obvious lie. "Can we talk about it tomorrow? I think I'm just a little strung out tonight... what with the kids..." A strong gust of howling wind caused the room's candles to flicker and the curtains to flap wildly. "...and the storm." C'mon, Kayla, not right now. "Please?"

"Sure." Every fiber of Kayla's being was telling her to keep pushing, find out what had suddenly upset Liv. But Liv was asking to her to wait... and so she would. "Are you ready for bed?"

Liv shook her head, mentally calculating the hours till morning. "No. I'm sure it's still too hot upstairs." Another gust of cool wind blew a strand of pale hair across her face and she sighed in relief as the breeze kissed her cheeks and throat. "This is the first time I've been comfortable since we got here. Can we stay in the library a little longer?"

Kayla brushed back Liv's errant lock feeling a strong surge of protectiveness and sweet affection. "Of course. Whatever you want. Anything you want..." she fumbled helplessly, willing to say or do anything to make Liv happy until two fingers, pressed firmly against her lips, stopped her babbling.

"It's okay." Liv smiled sheepishly. "I know I worried you for a second. But I'm really fine. Do you want me to read a little more? Have you heard anything yet that you think will help Marcy?"

Kayla shook her. "Not really. There was no guarantee I would. I just had to be sure."

"I know. But there's still a chance. We're not finished reading, right?" Green eyes flickered around the room. "I'll move some more candles over here. These are really starting to burn down."

"Let me..." Kayla leaned forward to get up.

"Stay put," Liv ordered.

Kayla blinked.

"Sorry," the older woman chuckled lightly. "I just want you to rest your knee." She gently patted the area above the body part in question. "It'll only take me a second."

"But..."

A fair eyebrow arched.

"Okay, I'll just sit here like a useless lump," Kayla grumbled, ignoring Liv's teasing grin.

When Liv stood, she briefly ran her fingertips along Kayla's tender scalp, then through long silky strands of dark hair. The researcher leaned into the loving touch and groaned contentedly. "Mmm... If I'd known all lumps were treated this nicely...mmm..." she sighed happily, "...I'd have become one a long, loooong time ago."

That comment earned Kayla's hair a playful tug as Liv laughed and moved away.

After a few moments of readjusting, the women wordlessly resumed their 'reading position', side-by-side on the sofa. Liv grabbed Kayla's hand and threaded their fingers together tightly before beginning again.

********************

"Over the next 2 months, while the world around us began to die, transforming the island into a vision of burnt orange and gold and blood red, Bridget and Faylinn blossomed. Everyday, it seemed, they found an excuse to spend the time together until, finally, they simply stopped making excuses at all. Until my dying day, I know that I shall remember the blaze that would ignite like so much tinder when their gazes would lock, for I am positive I shall never see it again.

"They were physically affectionate, as sisters might be. But even the most curious of observers would have been forced to attest to the simple truth that their touches never went beyond what propriety dictated. As I write this today, I am certain that Mistress Bridget was fully aware of the nature of her feelings for her brother's wife. I am equally certain that Mistress Faylinn was awash in a sea of confusion. But that their bodies had not followed the course their hearts had already chosen… mattered little. That they were in love was plain to see to anyone who bothered to look. And for reasons I do not pretend to understand, Master Redding choose not to look. Or, maybe it was simply that his quest for endless spoils blinded him to all else.

"His business associates, several officers in His Majesty's royal navy, made frequent stops to the island, which was destined to become a stop over for the slaves on the way to market on the mainland. Bridget argued bitterly with her brother over his choice of business ventures and vehemently refused to take part in them. But his position as head of household, assured both by his birth order and gender, meant that the Redding estate was his to control, and his alone. Mistress Bridget had little choice but to stand by and watch as he invested their family resources in Evil's own trade.

"One wretched day, words between siblings actually led to blows, with Master Redding taking a beating the likes of which he would neither forget nor forgive. Although, at the time, I privately wondered if it was the lurid, purple bruise across Mistress Faylinn's cheek and the announcement that he would be expecting several more sons sometime soon that truly motivated Mistress Bridget's rage. Had several slaves not pulled her from her brother, there is no doubt that she would have murdered him where he stood. Praise Allah there were no blades near.

"To say that during these months Bridget's relationship with Elizabeth deteriorated even further would be a ridiculous understatement. Where the girl's father was oblivious to the tender feelings that had developed between her new mother and Aunt, she was not.

"I believe Elizabeth has always dwelled in the darkest part of the human spirit, feeling most comfortable in its gloomy, putrid confines, her only lifeline found in her lighter, loving twin. But when Judith turned a blind eye to Faylinn and Bridget's obvious connection, Elizabeth took it as a personal betrayal. She willfully turned away from what little light 'Day' could provide her, embracing the darkness deep within herself with both hands. She strove to increase her knowledge of her 'abilities', a mystical family power that the slaves only whisper about but I know for a fact to be real, without guidance or restraint.

"Only Allah knows the true price the inhabitants of Cobb Island paid for allowing Elizabeth to stew in her own malevolence, her very soul festering with hatred."

 

November, 1690

"Be reasonable, Cyril," she implored, but couldn't keep a slender eyebrow from arching in a challenging manner. "As Henry's mother she has the right to know what's happening to her own child. The boy is already cunning as a fox and is showing signs of his 'abilities' years before even Judith and Elizabeth did."

Bridget wondered whether Cyril was aware of how powerful his children actually were. Both Judith and Elizabeth had a wide range of paranormal abilities that went far beyond telepathy, the predominant family 'ability' for the past several centuries. She had every reason to believe Henry would share the dynamic powers his half-sisters possessed. "Only the other day, Faylinn told me she was thinking of a tune that she hadn't heard since her own childhood, when, out of the blue, Henry began to hum the tune in time with her thoughts. She fears something is terribly wrong with the child, or that she's simply going mad! Every moment you don't tell her, especially now that she's inquired, is nothing more than a lie.

"Are you listening to me, Cyril? We have had this conversation before and I refuse to be a party to your lies or cause Faylinn undue distress in any case. She cannot be kept in the dark about our 'abilities' forever."

The man turned away from his ledger, finally giving his sister the courtesy of his undivided attention. Cyril's face creased into an obnoxious smirk as he began twirling his long quill. "Why does this concern you so, sister?" His fingers stilled. "I shall instruct Henry on his abilities when the time is right." Cyril chuckled inwardly and set down the quill. It was a rare occasion indeed that Bridget came to him seeking anything. He was already taking great pleasure in her frustration.

Leaning forward, Bridget placed both fists on the desktop and looked her brother dead in the eye. "You've already done a monstrous job with your daughters. Judith fears her powers. And Elizabeth shows no discretion whatsoever when it comes to using her abilities! Am I to believe things will be different with Henry? And Faylinn…"

"Is MY wife!" Cyril suddenly boomed, feeding off his sister's tense energy.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Bridget's face turned an ugly shade of purple and her hand twitched, longing to feel the cool hilt of her blade or Cyril's glass jaw. "I am reminded every waking moment that she is regarded as your 'possession', a brood mare," the brunette spat.

"Sister, are you jealous that it's my bed that she shares and not yours?" he hazarded in the midst of an unusual moment of insightfulness.

Yes!! her mind screamed. "I… Well... I... I..." The younger woman was momentarily flustered, the question having caught her completely off guard. Have my feelings for Faylinn become so obvious that I cannot conceal them from this pompous fool? She cursed her own lack of discretion and control, desperately wanting to tell Faylinn about her family's abilities herself… gently… so the young woman wouldn't be frightened, or worse, repulsed.

He grew tired of waiting for Bridget to answer. Not that it mattered. She was no threat to him in that arena. "Why are you wasting my time this morning, Bridget? I've ten men arriving this afternoon to transact business." He shooed her away with one hand, a gesture she'd detested since childhood.

Bridget ground her teeth together. "This discussion is not finished, brother."

His attention shifted back to his calculations, and he turned his back on his sister. "You will tell Faylinn nothing," he forbade in a tight, condescending voice. "You know as well as I do that until Elizabeth attains the age of sixteen and is ready to fulfill her role as Guardian, I, as her father, act as de facto Guardian, making decisions of this nature on her behalf."

Family protocol concerning revealing the 'abilities' or the contents of the 'histories' was inviolate. It was the Guardian alone that decided who should and should not be told.

Bridget's temper flared. "How dare you abuse your position as caretaker! It is within your power to grant this request, but you refuse me out of spite? At the expense of your own wife and son?"

Then she hit her brother where she knew it would hurt most, his purse. "I wonder if your business associates know what manner of pig they're dealing with, brother?" Blue eyes flickered to Cyril's sword, which was propped up against the wall behind his desk. She was pushing him, she knew, hoping he would reach for the weapon and give her another excuse to thrash him.

"Cyril, have these businessmen, who are no doubt as disreputable as yourself, heard how your poor business sense led your former partners to ruin?" Bridget laughed cruelly, noting her brother's now rigid posture. "It was truly amazing how quickly the news of your deplorable actions spread through the whole of court. And then, as they always do for us, the rumors of strange happenings began."

Cyril's pulse was racing, perspiration gathering at his collar. "You keep your trap shut! I will NOT allow gossip and rank speculation to affect my new business venture." The slender man slammed his ledger closed and stood nose-to-nose with his sister, his chest heaving. "I have come half way around God's earth to begin anew and escape the cursed rumors that have surrounded our family for generations," he hissed. "Here we start fresh, with a clean slate. Do not presume to ruin that because of some misguided propensity toward absolute honesty! I will not allow it!"

A soft knock at the library door interrupted the siblings. They both stopped talking but their eyes remained locked, neither breaking their challenging gazes to look at the door.

After a few more seconds the door slowly opened. A red-gold head poked in and looked around, not sure what to expect after hearing yelling and then dead silence. "There you are!" Faylinn exclaimed as she moved into the room. She smiled warmly at Bridget, although her words we directed to her husband. "I've been looking for you." She stopped. Green eyes flickered from Bridget to Cyril and back again. A pale brow twitched in question. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes."

"No," Cyril responded, overriding his sister.

Faylinn's eyes widened slightly and she took in the siblings' poses. The tension in the room was palpable and she unconsciously sucked in a breath, holding it.

Cyril finally dropped his eyes from Bridget's and took a small step backwards. "Do come in, Faylinn." He gestured for the young woman to come all the way into the room, ignoring Bridget's slight growl.

Hesitantly, Faylinn began to move towards Bridget, but when she stepped past Cyril, who had moved out from behind his desk, he suddenly grabbed her, pulling her into a rough embrace and crushing his lips against hers, his tongue demanding entrance. Faylinn pawed at his chest as she tried to pull away, completely caught off guard by her husband's repulsive actions, only to be held firm. Several heartbeats later, when Cyril was certain he'd made his point, he released her, their lips making a loud smacking sound as they separated.

When her husband's arms suddenly fell away, Faylinn stumbled until Bridget's strong hands captured her, steadying her.

"I was hoping you would come by for a morning kiss," Cyril announced smugly, retreating behind the large desk and out of Bridget's immediate reach. "I'm certain Bridget doesn't mind a simple show of affection and devotion between loving spouses. Isn't that right, sister?" he taunted.

For the moment, Bridget did her best to control the wild surge of pure rage coursing through her. He is going to die today, she promised bitterly. And it will be by my hand! Blue eyes darkened by fury and worry met frightened, tear filled green as she carefully searched the pretty young woman's face for signs of injury. Adrenaline was making her hands shake, but with effort, she managed to gently cup soft cheeks, drawing her thumb across Faylinn's bruised lips. It came back smeared with a light coating of glistening, dark blood.

"I'm all right, Bridget," Faylinn whispered softly, completely tuning out Cyril's revolting chuckles. "Don't." She knew Bridget was on the edge of a murderous rage. Anger was pouring off the darker woman in crashing waves, and her furiously pounding pulse matched Faylinn's own. "Please. I'm all right."

Bridget shook her head slowly and dropped her hands from Faylinn's face. Then she reached down and took two smaller hands in her own, bringing them up and placing a tender kiss on each palm, the intimacy of the act drawing a soft gasp from Faylinn. "No, dearest."

The redhead's face broke into a dazzling smile at the new endearment.

"You are most certainly not all right." Bridget smiled gently down at the smaller woman. "But you soon will be," she promised softly.

Then, in a lightning move that was so quick Faylinn barely saw it, Bridget lifted her heel and drew a short, double-edged, steel blade from her boot. Before Cyril even had a chance to wipe the egotistical smile off his face, she was upon him, slamming his head against the expensive desk with vicious force.

Millions of tiny stars invaded his vision as his head swam.

When he was finally able to see straight, he realized that he was being pinned to his desk by Bridget's bone-handled knife, which had been stabbed through his lace scarf and the lapel of his jacket. One of her hands remained threaded tightly in his luxurious black curls, tilting his chin up so that he was forced to meet her eyes.

He thought he heard Bridget speaking but the ringing in his ears prevented him from understanding the words. "Un... unhand...me..." he panted weakly, wishing he could reach his sword, craving her blood on his hands. "Godless savage," he spat stupidly, despite his fear, causing both Faylinn and Bridget to wonder whether he truly did have a death wish.

"Answer me, brother! Or are your meager faculties so easily addled? Does it make you feel important to control those around you with an iron hand?" When there was no immediate response, Bridget slapped him soundly with the back of her hand, her knuckles rapping loudly against his teeth and nose.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Her own skin breaking.

Four times she struck, until both his nose and mouth were bleeding profusely. She raised her hand again for a fifth blow when...

"Bridget, stop!" Faylinn begged, tugging hard on the sleeve of the older woman's rough spun cotton shirt and digging her heels into the Persian rug that partially covered the hardwood floor.

"Enough!" This time her voice was firm and it snapped Bridget out of her single-minded task.

"By God, why?!" The darker woman turned wild, confused eyes on Faylinn. "Why?" she demanded, letting go of Cyril and wrapping her hands around Faylinn's biceps, pulling her close. "He is a vile beast who will never be capable of anything more than hurting you. Why should I stop?!" she repeated. How can she want me to?

Faylinn laid her palms on Bridget's chest, her fingers resting solidly against the soft, exposed skin just below Bridget's throat where the top two buttons of her shirt were undone. Firming her resolve, she gingerly steered the livid woman away from Cyril. When she spoke, her voice was confident and compelling, drawing Bridget in with every word and making her believe. "You should stop because, he is not nearly worth it..." she said honestly, "... and because you are not a murderer." Faylinn was very conscious of the hot skin beneath her fingertips and the pounding heart that began to slow with her calming touch and voice. "And because he is my son's father. And despite his many shortcomings he is the only one Henry has." And only God knows how much I regret that bitter truth.

"And because you are in love with him?" Bridget choked out, somehow speaking past the lump in her throat. Please... anything but that. I am certain I shan't survive hearing that.

Faylinn shook her head. "You know that I'm not and never have been," she answered in a hushed tone, her heart aching, for her lost youth, and horrid marriage, and for how she felt about Bridget, which made no sense. Deep in her soul, she knew the connection between them was utterly right, and wondered how that could be true and it still be a mortal sin. A flash of movement caught her eye and she noticed that Cyril had freed himself from the desk and had a bloodstained handkerchief pressed tightly against his dripping nose. Awkwardly, he held out Bridget's blade, ready to ward off any further attack.

"You are a raving lunatic," he sputtered to his sister, having recovered some of his bravery now that the knife was in his own hand. He wiped away an errant drop of blood that trailed through his thin mustache and over his chin.

Bridget closed her eyes tightly, vowing that somehow she would rescue Faylinn from this existence... That whatever it took they would leave this place forever. Together. She opened her eyes slowly, allowing some of her dark energy to bleed away. "Faylinn just saved your life, brother. I would say that warrants at least a smidgen of gratitude, wouldn't you?"

Cyril just sneered as the color began to return to pallid cheeks. He folded the blood-soaked handkerchief in half and began dabbing his lip, already concocting the lie that would adequately explain his swollen lip and nose to his business associates that afternoon.

Bridget took a step towards her brother, causing him to point the tip of the blade in her direction. Heedless of his aggressive posture, she walked right up to him and yanked her knife from his hands. Then she drew him to her by the scruff of his neck. "Harm her again, Cyril, and you won't hear her begging for your miserable life." A pregnant pause. "Because you'll already be dead." The tall woman tightened the grip on his collar until her knuckles stood out in vivid relief against his crimson and black jacket. "Have I made myself abundantly clear?" She gave him a stiff shake for good measure.

He opened his mouth to hastily agree but no sound came out. He tried again, but the most he could muster was a squeak as his face began to take on a bluish hue. Bulging, beseeching eyes sought out Faylinn, who stood silently alongside Bridget, pointedly not coming to his aid. Red-haired bitch! he seethed privately as Bridget released her grip and he drew in a gasping, shuddering breath.

Bridget pushed him away in disgust, gently grasping Faylinn's hand and leading her out of the room.

Cyril's loud, but notably raspy voice interrupted their departures. "I am entertaining business associates this afternoon, Faylinn. Wear the dress I bought you in Paris. The green one. You will be expected to make at least a brief appearance," he ordered, effectively ignoring everything that had just taken place and settling back into his role as Master of the house with practiced ease. He was the head of household because it was his birthright. A violent fit by his sister couldn't change that. Besides, she had only gained the upper hand because of a cowardly surprise attack. He would be more vigilant in the future and that wouldn't happen again.

Faylinn considered her next words carefully, trying to put Henry's needs above her own. "I promised Henry I'd take him to feed the ducks this afternoon before it got too cold. He's been asking for you." He doesn't understand what a filthy swine his father is... yet.

"That's why I came looking for you in the first place, to see if you'd join us."

An annoyed looked flitted across Cyril's face as he discarded his soiled handkerchief in the small trash bin standing alongside his desk. "The slaves can take him," he answered without thought. "You will be otherwise engaged."

"Brother, I am still inclined to slap you senseless, although I admit, it would be a bit redundant."

Despite the recent violence and the fact that the anxiety in the room was still taut, Faylinn stifled an impertinent giggle.

"Were I you," Bridget continued, "I would be wise enough not to press my luck."

"Faylinn," Cyril warned in a low voice. It was one thing to deal with his unmanageable sister. But he refused to have his wife disobey him.

Bridget took a step forward but was held firmly in place by Faylinn, who didn't want things to escalate out of control again. "I'll be ready, husband," she conceded graciously, earning a compassionate but frustrated look from Bridget.

Cyril straightened, having won, at least in his own mind, this battle of the wills. Then he sat down at his desk and began poring over his numbers once more, occasionally wiping away a trickle from his still bleeding nose with a clean cloth.

"I pause here, at the risk of confusion, because it was at this point in her accounting to me, that Mistress Bridget stopped to gather her thoughts and then, unexpectedly, proceeded in another direction entirely. I fear that the events that took place soon after her argument with her brother fractured her very soul. During their retelling, her mood was somber, and her eyes, usually brighter than the summer sky, were dull and weary. It was more than I expected.

"I watched silently, not presuming to prod along such a personal tale, as Bridget's gaze drifted to the elongated shadows that painted the stable walls. With a deep, resigned sigh she explained that she didn't have much more time and it was necessary to break the chronology of her telling so that the truly pertinent information might be conveyed. It was then that she made what she called her most important contribution to history.

"In my unrepentant heart, however, Allah knows I do not believe that to be true. And that is why, even after Mistress Bridget conveyed that which she considered her sacred duty, this story... their story... continues."

*******************

"God, Kayla. Cyril was a real..."

"Asshole? Misogynistic pig? Butt nugget?"

Liv laughed. "That wasn't exactly what I was going to say, but it does convey the general idea. Yeah... he... um... basically seems like a clueless control freak. I'm not sure whether he knew his sister was in love with his wife and just didn't care, or whether he was too ignorant to conceive of the fact that Bridget was really 'in' love with Faylinn."

Kayla let out what could only be described as a frustrated grunt. "Faylinn was only a couple of years older than Marcy and she was completely trapped." Somehow, the researcher found herself in nonsensical position of wanting to solve Faylinn's predicament, despite the fact that the woman had been dead for hundreds of years.

"Mmm," Liv agreed, smiling affectionately at the look of utter concentration on Kayla's face, as the wheels in the researcher's mind turned. Liv's hand drifted to the crinkled skin around brilliant blue eyes and with a gentle motion she smoothed away the worry lines. I am. I'm sitting here falling in love with her. I'm letting it happen. Hell, I'm loving the fact that it's happening. She sighed softly, trying to remember what they were talking about. "I think in those days being 18 meant something different than it does today. And at least she wasn't alone. She had Bridget, who obviously loved her. And unless Afia went crazy with some sort of serious creative license, Faylinn had to know that." For some reason, I really hope she did.

"Can we read a bit more?" Kayla asked softly, pushing aside her thoughts of Faylinn and feeling a little guilty that she was sitting snuggled up to Liv while the linguist was doing all the work. "This upcoming part sounds like it may be what we're looking for."

"Of course. But only because you asked so sweetly," Liv teased, giving the taller woman a little peck on the cheek before starting again. She read on for another half an hour, pale brows drawing together in puzzlement, before she finally stopped, completing the only passages in the history that appeared to be written completely from Bridget's point of view. "Is this..." The blonde paused and let out a frustrated breath. "Kayla, I'm sorry. Maybe my Arabic isn't as good as I thought it was. This isn't making much sense. It's all jumbled."

"It makes perfect sense." Kayla shook her head, a loud boom of thunder interrupting her next words. Liv's body jerked at the earsplitting sound and Kayla pushed the book off their legs, pulling the smaller woman closer. I wouldn't let anything hurt you. Ever.

"It's okay," Liv whispered. "Go on."

"It makes perfect sense," Kayla resumed, hoping to get Liv to focus on her voice and not the howling wind. This fucking storm isn't going to move on. It's gonna have to burn itself out right over us. "You're just hearing it out of context. God, this is more than any of the other texts have contained. Bridget's telepathy was truly incredible. Not only could she directly project her thoughts into someone else's head, but she could read theirs nearly word for word." Animated eyes glinted excitedly. I can't wait to study this alongside some of the other histories.

Liv still looked confused so Kayla reined in her excitement to do a little backtracking. "She's describing several techniques used to help you control your telepathy and open or close your mind to other telepaths. But she's sort of picking up where other histories have left off and then adding to them. Without the other texts it makes no sense. With them, it creates a knowledge bridge. It's the missing piece to much of what comes before and after!"

Liv grinned at her companion's nearly giddy speech, Kayla's eager expression making her look very much like a child on Christmas morning. "This is what you were hoping for then?" she laughed, glad for the break in what was turning out to be an intense story.

"No, Liv. This is beyond what I was hoping for," she clarified with a smile. "In less than ten pages Bridget has answered a couple of questions I've had since I was a child."

"But will this help Marcy?"

Kayla's expression suddenly sobered. "I... I don't know. I'm not even certain how powerful Marcy's powers are. I..." A brief hesitation, born of habit. It's okay, you know can trust her. "I know they include telepathy and levitation. When she was a little girl I thought I had a pretty good bead on them. But..." The tall woman shrugged as she moved the melted ice pack off her knee and lifted her feet off of the table, setting them on the ground with a slight grimace. "... after what Papaw said I'm not so sure anymore. If he knew something, I wish the old man would have had the courtesy to mention it while he was alive," she complained bitterly. "I've been tied up in knots over this ever since I got that letter."

Liv's hand moved to Kayla's belly where she gave it a light rub, acknowledging the nervousness and anxiety Kayla must have felt. That's it, Kayla. Relax. "I'm sorry about that. I'm sure he didn't mean to... Wait. Did you just say levitation?" Green eyes widened. "That can't be possible! Wait." She stopped Kayla again, clamping her hand over Kayla's mouth. "I don't know why I keep saying that. Of course it's possible, or you wouldn't be talking about it."

Kayla let out a surprised chuckle through Liv's fingers. "S'okay. It's pretty wild, I know."

"Levitation, huh? Well, for both the kids' sake I hope Marcy doesn't figure out about that little power tonight."

"Good point. I wouldn't want her giving Doug a heart attack."

"Oh God," Liv covered her eyes with her hands and chuckled ruefully. "And I'm sure it would. Well, unless Marcy has already told him about all..." she waved a hand in the air. "... this. The histories, your family's abilities, the house and spell."

"I don't think she has. That was something we were going to talk about this week. But nothing is really stopping her, other than knowing it's a big step, and in my family it's one that we take very seriously."

"Mmm... I can see that. But you told me in just a couple of days," she reminded. And I think that meant a whole lot more than I realized at the time.

"It felt right." Kayla tried to shrug it off as no big deal. But Liv wasn't buying.

"Thanks," Liv smiled warmly, letting how she felt about Kayla show in her eyes. "A lot of things feel right when we're together, don't they?"

Kayla smiled reflectively -- her gaze locking with Liv's. And as it always seemed to do, the world fell away.

Liv finally dropped her eyes, feeling very much like a lovesick adolescent. She shifted so that she was facing Kayla; drawing up one knee she wrapped an arm around it. "Why would you need to use some sort of special mental technique for the telepathy?" Her free hand drifted upward and began idly twisting a lock of dark hair, enjoying the silky soft texture of the strands. "I know I'm not doing anything special when all of the sudden I.... I... get these feelings and images from you."

"Ahh... But you only think that because you haven't got a clue."

Blonde eyebrows shot up indignantly.

Kayla immediately raised a forestalling hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized sheepishly but couldn't help the few chuckles that managed to trickle out. Ohh... I'll bet that look makes Dougie pee himself. "That didn't come out right at all."

One arching eyebrow dropped but the other remained in Liv's hairline. "Explain yourself, ghostbuster." Liv would have put her hands on her hips for effect, but her current position made it impracticable.

Another bolt of lightning struck the island causing the house to shake and Liv to nearly crawl out of her skin.

"Whoa. You okay?" Kayla asked worriedly, gently pushing away the smaller woman, who was now stuck to her like glue, in an attempt to see her face.

But Liv refused to be dislodged. "No," she replied shakily, her heart pounding nearly out of control as she tucked her face into Kayla's T-shirt, feeling the darker woman's warm skin through the soft cotton. "Isn't this damn storm ever going to end?"

"Soon," Kayla promised, wrapping both arms around Liv and resting her chin atop Liv's head. "Let me tell you about the telepathy." Then Kayla stopped, her mind temporarily derailed as she remembered something she'd been meaning to ask her companion. "Liv, how come you've never asked me to demonstrate my ability? Anyone who's ever known about it has made that request in the first five minutes. You've pretty much ignored it." Does it bother you to talk about it?

"Un huh." A pale head shook. "Not ignored. I've been curious." She shrugged one shoulder, her face still pressed tightly against Kayla's shirt. "I figured you'd tell me more... show me.... when you felt comfortable. It's not like you're a trick pony or anything."

"Ha! You're the first person to think that," Kayla drawled, her southern accent sounding sharp to Liv's ears.

Liv felt soft lips graze her temple, causing her eyes to flutter shut in pure reflex. "Am I really?" the blonde questioned seriously, her voice soft and worried. Liv turned her head slightly so dark green eyes could gaze out the window and down to the sea beyond.

Kayla nodded. "Really," she confirmed hoarsely, hoping it didn't sound like it bothered her as much as it did. "Except for my family, of course." Then she made a conscious effort to brighten her mood, which for some unknown reason was rapidly heading south. "And for some strange reason, your decision not to ask me has got me itching to show you what I can do. I'd also like to try out a couple of the things Bridget mentioned in the history. Interested?"

"Absolutely!" Liv pulled back just enough to see Kayla's face, a wide smile showing off bright white teeth.

"Okay, I'm not as strong as Bridget, so don't go expecting me to do the things we read about," Kayla warned semi-seriously. "But, well, occasionally I do 'see' words. It's just not consistent." She reached up and drew a long slender, teasing finger along Liv's jaw bone, around a dainty pink ear, finally trailing it down her tender throat before letting it rest on her collarbone. "But with you..." Kayla leaned in a little. Mmm... How can she always smell so good? "... all bets are off. I'm hoping that just maybe, I'll be able to go farther into your thoughts than I have with anyone before. Really get deep inside you," she purred in a low sexy voice.

Liv sucked in a breath. God, how bad do I want her? Bad. Very, very bad. Oh man, and she knows it too.

Kayla smirked and wriggled her eyebrows, amazed at how much fun playing with Liv truly was and how quickly her mood could change. This is what I've been missing. Of course is it, her mind whispered back.

Liv shook her head and laughed at herself, marveling at effect of Kayla's voice and eyes. She doesn't even have to touch me to turn me inside out. "Okay. What do I have to do?" She slowly lifted round, innocent eyes up to meet Kayla's. "You might have to be very specific and talk slowly, seeing as how I don't have a clue."

Kayla rolled her eyes dramatically. "Geesh! I said I was sorry! All I meant was that you're clearing your mind and opening it to me when you're sensing my thoughts... you just don't realize you're doing it. You're unconsciously making it easier for us to enter each other's thoughts." She could see Liv's skepticism and the researcher picked up the gauntlet, blue eyes glinting with mischief. "When the telepathic connection between us feels the strongest for you, what have we been doing?

Liv thought about it for a moment, a faint smile crossing her face. She was starting to like where this was heading. "Kissing," came the expected response.

"Mmm... hmm... It's the same for me," she breathed in a sexy voice that threatened to turn her companion into jello. "And when we're kissing what are you thinking about?"

Pale lashes batted playfully. "You mean besides Julia Roberts?"

Kayla's eyes narrowed. "Funny." A beat. "You aren't..."

"Don't even ask," Liv warned, smacking Kayla's thigh. But her voice was teasing. "Let's see... what was I thinking about? I think of you and what we're doing." And all the other things I'd love to be doing to you. A blush began working its way up Liv's neck causing Kayla's smirk to grow even larger. "And well... um... mostly I'm not thinking of anything specific at all. I guess I just kinda let my mind go blank and enjoy what's happening."

Kayla nodded, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction at Liv's blush, which she found beyond adorable, and the nonverbal confirmation of what she herself had been thinking and feeling. "Believe it or not, in a roundabout way, that's what Bridget was talking about in the history. It's about opening your mind and letting things happen. But without focus you can only go so far. Shall I demonstrate?" Her eyes twinkled knowingly.

"That... was a very stupid question," Liv answered wryly, licking her lips in anticipation as she sat up a little straighter, feeling a twinge of excitement.

"Okay…" Kayla's heartbeat began to pick up as she stared into the darkening jade eyes across from hers. She'd never announced a kiss before and suddenly she felt a little nervous. I might as well make this count. Everything I feel but I'm still too chicken to say. No holding back.

Liv smiled gently, easily picking up on her friend's anxiety.

Kayla's response was a grin of her own. Then she simply started to melt. Jesus, what you do to me, Liv. "… don't do anything special. Just relax and in a minute I'll tell you to think of something specific. Then I'll try to read your thoughts." With a slight bob of the head, she got confirmation that Liv understood.

Liv's eyes slid shut when Kayla tilted her head slightly to the side and slowly moved forward. She expected to feel soft, full lips brushing gently against hers. Instead, a hot tongue suddenly plunged deeply into her mouth, rocking her backwards and throwing her off balance with its demanding, aggressive force. A strong hand splayed across her lower back holding her firmly in place, then guiding her closer, despite the overwhelming momentum pushing her in the opposite direction. Oh God! her mind screamed its approval as the hungry kiss delved deeper; wanting, needing, giving and taking all at the same time. It was the culmination of hour after hour of thick sexual tension and blossoming love. It was wholly unexpected and passion unrestrained.

Liv didn't have a chance to think or even breathe, her mouth reflexively responding with its own assault, devouring, tasting, conquering. She felt Kayla shift back a bit, lessening the contact of their lips and bodies by just a hairsbreadth. She would have none of it. Small hands roamed frantically then found their purchase in thick dark hair, tugging Kayla tighter against her and crushing their mouths together once again to taste sweet, wet lips. Her reward was a low, rumbling groan that was torn from Kayla's chest and immediately swallowed in the blistering heat of the moment. The sound alone caused Liv's abdomen to clench tightly, making her grateful for the strong hand at her back. It was the only thing keeping her upright.

Kayla let her mind completely empty itself of anything and everything other than Liv, which was exceeding simple considering it was difficult to tell where the smaller woman's body ended and hers began. She mentally projected outward, trying desperately to piece together bits of newly acquired knowledge with her own natural instinct, which was relentlessly driving her forward. She extended her senses. Projecting farther. Diving deeper. Feeling Liv's hammering heartbeat and ragged breaths and the hot coursing blood pulsing wildly through both their veins. Kayla gasped into the mouth attached to hers, her body shuddering with arousal as she pushed beyond her mental boundaries, dropping them as she went.

Blending.

Joining.

A warm rush of desire spread from Liv's belly to her groin, enveloping her, wrenching a deep guttural moan from her throat. The pure sensuality of Kayla's lips and tongue dancing intimately, deeply, against hers flushed through her and she felt the almost staggering urge to draw Kayla closer still.

Merging.

And then Liv sensed it, recognizing almost immediately that it had been there from nearly the very beginning, but in the midst of sensory overload she hadn't taken time to notice. It was more than a physical or emotional presence. In her current state Liv could only define it as spiritual. The vague, slightly dislocated sense she'd encountered before was noticeably absent, replaced by solid, tangible feeling that Kayla was right there alongside her, in her own mind. Or maybe she was in Kayla's. There was no beginning or ending. They simply flowed together. With a sudden clarity, she realized that what she was feeling was the total sum of both their thoughts and emotions. Desires and needs. It was intense and profound and nearly painful in its pleasure.

It was completeness.

Kayla willed her mind to focus, knowing it was next to impossible, but grasping for it just the same. Her eyes rolled back beneath closed lids as Liv's desire intertwined with her own forming, an intoxicating brew that threatened to overtake her. Never. Never had she shared her mind like this or had another's open so completely to her. Without reservation or boundaries. Without hesitation or doubt. Apart from the spectacular physical sensations they were creating and sharing with each other, the combined emotional intensity of the moment was rich and satisfying and only made her want more. But one by one Kayla untangled her senses from Liv's, trying to gain enough control to speak, a good part of her simply wanting to let herself drown, feeling Liv pulling her in deeper and deeper.

The taller woman finally pulled her lips from Liv's, immediately attaching them to her tender throat, sucking on the pounding pulse point and settling Liv against her, giving her hands freedom to roam over the thin cotton nightgown. Now or never, Kayla thought, fully aware that she was slipping into a sexual haze from which she wanted no reprieve. "Liv... Think somethin'... Oh God," she muttered against the salty skin of Liv's neck as hands slid beneath her T-shirt and bra, cupping aching breasts. A moan of pure pleasure tickled her ears and for another brief moment she lost herself in the firestorm of sensation. Then insistent hands were helping her out of the shirt altogether and her own nimble fingers began working on the small ivory buttons on Liv's nightgown.

The blonde thought she heard something, but decided she must be mistaken, having completely forgotten what the purpose of this little 'exercise' was to begin with. She could think of several incredible important uses for Kayla's mouth and none of them included talking.

"Liv?" the darker woman whispered again, bringing her mouth back up to Liv's and kissing her tenderly... slowly.

We're not stopping, again?! Tell me we're not stopping! came Liv's frantic mental plea. A resounding "NO!" sounded in her mind but she wasn't sure if it was her own thought or Kayla's. At that moment, however, it simply didn't matter.

Kayla's kisses slowed and took on a more loving... emotional edge. The change in intensity caught Liv's attention and she answered with a breathy sigh, her fingers finding the hooks of Kayla's bra as a strong breeze blew out more of the room's candles sending the women deeper into the shadows. The gust caressed sensitized skin; her gown was opened wider, pushed off her shoulders to expose her completely to the night air and Kayla's purposeful, coaxing touch. "Hmm?" she finally answered, recalling Kayla's question. "Oh... God, yes!" she cried harshly, throwing her head back when warm lips surrounded her nipple, suckling gently.

"Nevermind… later," Kayla murmured in a barely audible voice against the soft pale skin, losing herself completely.

A sudden shift and Liv felt herself lifted slightly, then her shoulders were hitting the couch and Kayla was covering her completely. "Mmm... You read my mind," were the last words spoken for a long time.

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