He sat quietly until he got his breath back, watching her deft movements in the kitchen, and her sensual grace stirred a longing in him that he could not fathom. Even dressed in a soft tracksuit it is obvious that she was built like a goddess, and he smiled at the comparison. Suddenly he remembers thinking about his clothing and decided to have a little fun.
"Pardon me ma'am, but are these the clothes I arrived with? It does feel a little skimpy for walking around with out in a storm."
He nearly burst out laughing as she flushes scarlet red, even her neck and into her hairline underneath her ponytail. "No...uhm...I uhm...you were soaked to the bone and I had to...uhm... get you dry so I uhm... had to undress you...You are wearing some of the clothes that my brother leaves here for when he visits..."
Storm decided to take a little mercy on her and put his feelings in his voice when he answered her.
"Thank you very ma'am, you saved my life. I am really beholden to you and will repay you when I get back to town."
She turns around with an annoyed expression on her face.
"You are going nowhere until you are better! And stop calling me ma'am, you make me sound old! I am Clare. You don't look young enough to be calling me that, how old are you anyway?"
He smiles at her chagrin but when he answers her he feels something pull at his mind, and his face goes blank for a moment before getting a sheepish expression on his face.
"Old enough to be naughty and young enough to enjoy it to the fullest!"
"You remembered something didn't you?"
Storm nods. "Almost. I felt something like a pull on my mind. I am just going to give it time and not force it."
Clare silently agrees with him and finishing the breakfast she serves him over his protests. This only stop when she mock threatens to feed him. They enjoy the breakfast in companionable silence.
"The way you wolfed down that breakfast you must have been starved!" Clare says laughingly with turns into full-blown laughter when Storm blushes. In this easy mood she helps him back to the room, Storm not complaining as he likes the feel of her against him. Helping him to sit on the bed she takes off the bandage around his head to take a look at the cut his forehead and she is relieved to see it healing nicely. Dispensing with the bandage she put iodine ointment on it again and covers it with a plaster.
"You are going to have an interesting scar Storm, the ladies will think you are debonair. The plaster can come off in three days. How is your headache?"
"Feeling even better after the breakfast, thank you."
Clare blushes when Storm naughtily asks:"Am I allowed to take a shower or will it be a bed-wash?"
She rebounds however:"If you are strong enough to ask that, you just talked yourself out of a bed-wash!"and she laughs at his chagrin as he assimilates her words.
"I'll get you some more clothes. But seriously, use the stool in the shower please. You are definitely still weak."
Even after a lazy shower Storm is still exhausted and thankfully dressing himself in the fresh clothes he reclines into the pillows, thinking that he will rest a bit and then get up again. While thinking these thoughts he is unaware that his breathing becomes softly even as he sinks into a deep healing sleep... A few minutes later Clare walks into the room and when she sees him fast asleep she smiles down at him, and closes the door quietly. While tending to her daily chores, feeding the little livestock that she has and grooming the horses, she is very pensive. The break-up with her ex did hurt, she thought it was her fairy tale until the night she decided to pay him a surprise visit and caught him in bed with her best friend, but if she has to be honest with herself : she has healed. But that is not the issue here is it? He is a stranger, with amnesia, but she is attracted to him! More than a little! If fact, just thinking of him makes her womanly core tingle, and the the memory of his smell make her short of breath!
"Damn!" she exclaims as she suddenly feels her left foot go wet and she looks down. She was so distracted that she has dropped her hands and the hose she was using is filling her wellington boot! Not knowing if she must lose her temper or laugh at herself she opts for the latter and giggles. Closing the tap she sits down on the low wall nearby and empties the boot. She stands up and as she turns toward the house to go in she hears a distant rumble. Her eyes go to the mountains and to her chagrin she sees more thunderheads building up behind it and she gets a sinking feeling. This is definitely not good! She would prefer to have Storm checked out by a proper doctor, and more rain means the river will stay swollen and impassable longer. She decides to get the chickens back into the barn part of their coop and she chases them inside. Getting back to the house, placing the fresh eggs she has retrieved in their basket and the the pail of goat's milk on the kitchen sink to cool, she goes to see if Storm is still okay. He is still fast asleep and his face looks so peaceful in repose that she gets an inspiration. She goes up to her studio on the upper floor and finds a fresh canvas. Picking up a charcoal stick her hands start flying over the blank canvas as if out of their own violation...
Storm wakes up and is disoriented for a moment. Then he realizes where he is and that his headache has abated even further. It is just a dull throbbing in the back of his head behind his eyes. He gingerly touches the plaster on his forehead and winces as it is still tender. Getting out of bed slowly he goes to the kitchen to get a drink of water. He finds that he is a little stronger than earlier in the day and he makes the kitchen easily. He is surprised to see a covered pail on the kitchen sink and lifting the cloth his mind registers automatically: goat's milk. As he stands by the kitchen window staring at one of the most beautiful landscapes he has ever see, surrounded by towering mountains and drinking a glass of water, he hears a gasp behind him.
"Storm! You are out of bed! How are you feeling?" And as he turns around he is surprised by his body's reaction when he finds Clare walking toward him. She is barefoot wearing a very colorfully stained artist's smock over her clothes with tendrils of hair that has escaped her ponytail framing her face. He smiles as he answers her.
"I'm feeling a little better thank you, I think the nap did the trick. I just have a dull throbbing behind my eyes, and my forehead is still very tender."
She walks up to him and putting her hands on his chest she tenderly turns him back to the light of the kitchen window. Putting her hands on his cheek she looks at his eyes clinically and find that the one pupil is is contracted a little smaller than the other one, a definite sign that he still has remnants of concussion. Storms reaction to her touch is instantaneous and he is surprised that in spite of being injured and probably having a concussion her touch ignites such deep desires in him that it becomes an ache. The next moment she is aware that she is very close to him but before she can move away, the clinical observation of his eyes turns into something else, and she feels herself being pulled into eyes whose colour she notices for the first time. Not green and not brown, but hovering in between in a way that it changes slightly towards one of the two colours as the light that falls on them change. She feels the shock to the core of her womanhood, an inferno of heat that expands and makes her gasp softly. Her nipples harden on their own, and the friction of her blouse is an exquisite torture as she shifts her feet and juts her hips forward instinctively. As she slowly start sliding her hands down his chest the moment is broken when fatigue finally catches up with Storm and he staggers slightly. Clare grabs onto him quickly. Her voice though is a little ragged though as she calls out to him.
"Are you okay Storm? Sit down, come let me help you."
She helps him to a chair and scolds him. "If you want to get out of bed you must call me! You are still not in a condition to walk around."
Her words are stilled when he takes her her hand in his and looks up at her.
"Thank you." He says softly, seriously, looking deeply into her eyes. The intimacy almost overwhelms her and with effort she pulls herself back, her core still wet and on fire. She smilingly disengages her hand and walks to the sink where she starts preparing the milk for separation.
"Wait before you thank me, I must give you an update that might change your mind. You are stuck on here with me on the farm for a few days. The storm that birthed your name has caused the bridge to wash away, and the water is so high that the shallows will be impassable for a few days at least. To add insult to injury it seems as if there are more rain higher up in the catchment area that might further complicate matters. And the footpath over the mountain is treacherous in dry weather, so it is a complete no go during the wet season even if you were in any condition to attempt it."
"How long do think before the river abates?"
"Not more than three days, hopefully sooner. Then we can get you checked out by a proper doctor, your eyes still shows signs of concussion. Maybe a doctor can help with your amnesia dilemma, and we can find out who you are."
"Were there anything in my clothes that hinted at my identity?" he asks pensively.
"Unfortunately not. You had no wallet or mobile phone on you. Unfortunately there are no mobile signal on the farm currently. It looks like the tower on the mountain is out, and the land-line is always down during a storm. When you are ready to get out bed, I have washed and ironed your clothes for you."
