Instantly, pain exploded in his head. He reeled in the saddle, furious but even now reluctant to truly hurt herespecially where the hurts would do most harm. Instead, he set up a mad tickling at the base of her skull, against the round pink wall of her mental shield, a mouse to gnaw away at it, even as he snapped his own shield closed. Dimly, he heard her cry out, saw her reel in the saddle—no wonder, for the reaction of her thought being so abruptly cut off must have hurt indeed—though it was a hurt he could not have avoided. He remembered the yoga he had been taught, regulated his breathing and calmed his own mind, dimming the pain till he could think, and could pay attention to the world around him again.
Quicksilver was pulling herself back together, glaring at him in anger. He felt the bolt of fury with which she lashed him, but it was muted, dulled by his own mental shield. He waited, timing his own thrust for the moment hers slackened, for he must open his shield just a little to strike out...
Her mind's energy ceased abruptly. He realized she was waiting for an opening, and he gave it to her even as he struck...
The lash of her own mental bolt was quick and hot, sending a flash of pain through his head—but it was gone as quickly as it had come, for she gasped in shock, shuddering. Well she might—for, fearing to hurt her, he had touched the pleasure center in her brain with a trace of neural energy, only a milliamp or less, but enough to make every fiber of her being quiver with delight...
Only long enough for his own shield to close—and as soon as the thrust of ecstasy was gone, she was on him with white-hot fury, thoughts lashing all about him, thoughts of all manner of villains that she compared him to, surrounding him with a flow of mental energy that battered his mental shields. But every thought carried the impress of her personality, every bolt was so completely feminine, so totally desirable, that he found himself trembling with the desire to drop his shields and die in ecstasy ...
In self-defense, he did the only thing he could; he waited till her anger slackened, then opened his shield and enveloped her mind in the strongest emotion he had ever known—his own aching, yearning, covetous desire for her, mind and body, for the totality of all that was Quicksilver, Jane, Woman...
Her own shield could hold only a few seconds against such a barrage. Against anger, against hatred, she could have held all day—but against desire, and most particularly desire so thoroughly imbued with love, no matter how much he would deny the word, she could have no defense, and her own shields melted and were gone.
For a blinding moment, the world went away, the leaves and horses and trackway disappeared, and he was aware only of her all about him, her mind pulsing, quivering with alarm, but with desire also, flashing with ecstasy where her consciousness touched his, and he was exalted, made euphoric by the closeness, by her presence. Here and there, awareness began to mingle, thoughts to share...
Then it was gone, and the world was back, and she was staring at him wild-eyed, breasts heaving, frightened though summoning anger to defend herself, but still the world was only her...
Finally, Geoffrey found his voice. "Your pardon. I had not meant for that to happen."
"Do not tell me that you are not delighted that it did!" It was an angry accusation, but did he detect a note of desperate longing beneath it?
"Why, I am delighted, though I would never do it again without your leave," he breathed—and for a moment, the world was gone again, and her mind pulsed all about his in a luminescent rose-shot pearly haze, drawing, pulling, aching with desire ... Then the pearly cloud was gone, and her staring face was back. "You did it again!" she accused.
For once, Geoffrey understood very clearly that he must take the blame for something he had not done. "I did, and I fear that I will again at the slightest opportunity, for I cannot keep myself within the bounds of my head, when you are so near."
"Then I shall never be so near again!" She turned away, breaking eye contact, more frightened than angry—and she was right, she was gone, or at least her mental presence was, and the world had gone gray all about him, he mourned within, for the life had gone out of the earth...
The temptation rose in him, the furious beating lust and craving, the impulse to take by force what he so coveted, but he fought it down, knowing that what he truly sought could never be taken or forced, for it had to be given, or it would no longer exist.
She pushed her horse forward, just a few steps, just enough so there was no chance of their eyes meeting again, and rode ramrod—straight to hide her own trembling. Geoffrey knew she was hiding trembling, because he was—and at that moment, he knew that he would always know what her feelings were, no matter how far apart they might happen to be. It was a foolish notion, and quite impossible even for two telepaths, but it was there.
Then it passed, and the life seemed to come back into the day; its colors revived more brightly than ever. In place of the anger of loss rose the exultation of having experienced bliss, and if it had been only for a moment, that moment was timeless; if worse came to worst, he knew he could live on that moment for the rest of his life.
But he need not, for he rode in Quicksilver's company, and as long as he was near her, there was always the chance that it would happen again. He rode through the forest in the golden light of late afternoon, his gaze caressing every inch of her back, every strand of her hair, his heart singing within him.
She was still brittle, though, even formal, when they camped for the night. "Do sleep on one side the fire, sir, and I'll sleep on the other!"
The temptation rose up in him then, and he yielded to it, not because it was too strong to resist, but because he suddenly did not see why he should. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to touch her waist ever so lightly. "Oh, what need is there of fire, damsel, when the heat of our passion would be light enough!"
"Nay, sir!" she cried, but did not step away, only stood quivering, longing for his touch to deepen. "The fire between us must prevent the fire inside from burning us to destruction!"
"But you have seen the fire within me now," he pleaded, "and know how it does burn me, does drive me to distraction with my longing for you—and not just for your sweet, fair body, no, but for your mind also, and your heart, which I know yearns for me as ardently as mine yearns for you!"
"For shame, sir!" She was shocked to hear her voice tremble. "You have looked where you had no right, and use my own feelings to bend me!"
"If there were need for more than my own ardour and yours, I would never seek to bend." His face swam closer. "Nay, damsel, where is the harm in it if two who do burn for one another are united in such a conflagration that it might engulf all their world?"
"I shall burn ere I yield me!" There were tears in her voice now, and her whole body trembled with yearning. "Thee, only thee," he whispered, "for our duel this afternoon has shown me that only with thee can I begin to approach the heights of ecstasy that are the reward for those of us who must suffer the curse of loneliness that comes from the strangeness of our minds! Oh, if you must suffer that severance, then do not hesitate to take the ecstasy that is yours by right, that those who delight in the normality of the human state and the assurance of community may never know! If you must suffer in isolation because of your difference, revel now in the pleasures that only we can learn! Come to me now, and never seek to draw away!"
She could only stand, trembling, as his lips closed over hers, and as he drank the sweetness of her mouth, she felt herself burning in every limb until she caught fire and, reaching up to press his head against her own, drew on him as though she would drain him of every iota of life force ...