Storm does not answer her and worriedly she turns around to see if he is okay. She finds him staring at her with a far-off expression in his eyes, and she can see that he is attempting to access his missing memory from the frown on his face and the small beads of sweat pearling in his hairline. He actually shakes his head and looks even more worried. A feeling bursts up in her to lovingly stroke away the frown-lines on his forehead and she actually feels herself leaning towards him to go and do it before she stops herself. What is wrong with you Clare! Pull yourself together!
Storm shakes his head, try as he might as he tries to remember anything before waking up on the farm he encounters only grey mists swirling with figures and facts just out of his reach. He feels the fatigue increasing and as he focuses again on his surrounding he finds himself staring at Clare, who is looking at him wide-eyed with expressions of unreadable emotions swirling on her face. He smiles wanly at her, fatigue wash over him in waves and he can see a shift on her face.
"We better get you back into bed. You look extremely tired." Clare says as she walks over to him. He lets her help him up and it feels so good holding they way she is holding on to him that he makes as if he is more tired than he is so that they slow down as they walk back to the room to prolong the sensation. She tenderly puts him back into bed and tucks him in. Turning in the door as she is about to walk out Clare turns to Storm and says softly: "Don't force Storm, your memories will come back on their own. Just trust in yourself."
He smiles at her back, promising himself that for both their sakes he will recover his memory. He slowly settles himself on the bed, still smiling. Clare does her chores in the kitchen like an automaton, trying to calm her raging emotions and raging arousal down. At lunchtime she takes Storm sandwiches to eat and a glass of milk but does not stay long, her inner self in too much turmoil to stay near to him for too long. She doesn't trust herself around him. She returns to her studio and carries on with the portrait she started the morning, having heaps of inspiration after what had occurred in the kitchen. As the afternoon drags on the heat and humidity increases so much that she starts getting worried about her house guest. She puts her painting paraphernalia down and goes downstairs to look in on him. He is asleep again, but has kicked the covers of him and she can see him sweating profusely. Touching him gingerly, her earlier feelings still fresh in her mind, she finds that his body temperature is elevated again. Worriedly she wets a facecloth and she wipes down his face. It takes all her self-control to stay focused to just wipe down his chest and legs as well and not caressing them. She looks out the window and sees that another thunderstorm is approaching. Knowing that with the diminishing light she will not be able to carry on painting she realises that night is approaching as well and that she must do something about supper.
Walking into the kitchen, and taking into account Storm's rising temperature, she opts to melt soup that she has frozen in the old paraffin freezer and bread. After preparing the meal she takes a bowl and some bread to the room, finding Storm awake but still a little feverish. He does not complain but she can see that his head-ache has worsened as well and leaving him to eat she fetches him some painkillers and a glass of water. Gratefully he drinks the tablets down with the water and settles back in the pillows, closing his eyes against the pain. Eating quickly herself she does the dishes and cleans up in the kitchen and she finds it to be fully night by the time she is finished. Taking a deep breath she walks back to the room.
Storm is awake but she can still see the fever glinting in his eyes. She sits next to him on the bed and is surprised when he asks her in a soft voice: "Tell me about the farm." She clears her throat she looks at his face and and starts. "It is not that big, only about 600 hectares of pristine wild. The previous owner used it as a weekend get-away and when he moved base over seas I picked it up for a song. It is roughly triangular, with those magnificent mountains on two sides of the mountain and the river the other leg. The river enters and leaves through steep gorges, beautiful white water and she runs deep the whole length except for two parts. That was where the old wooden bridge was and near in what is known as the shallows. The shallows are usually easily passable with a four by four vehicle. In that area the banks are not as steep either. And..."
Clare finds that sometime during her story Storm had fallen asleep and she smiles down at him tenderly. The storm breaks the next moment, and knowing the weather after two years she realises that it will probably rain most of the night. The storm however do not breaks the heat and biting the bullet she decides to forsake her nightly attire of the previous evenings, her tracksuit, and changes into a cotton short and t-shirts before crawling into bed with Storm. Albeit still on her side of the king size bed and having her own duvet, all the time telling herself it is to be there if he should need during the night. Smiling at the thought she settles in and almost immediately fall asleep with the sound of the storm raging outside.
Early morning she wakes up and finds that just like the night before she has moved over to Storm's side of the bed. Then she freezes as she realises the position they are laying in. He is cupping her body with his with his arm thrown over her. But sometime during the night his hand has slipped under her t-shirt that has ridden up above her navel and his hand is comfortably cupping her breast. What is worst her hand is holding his hand in place! Then something breaks inside of her and she decides: the hell with it! She is going to enjoy the feeling. As she settles down and is about to fall asleep Clare feels Storm's body stiffen next to her and she allows herself a small smile as she feels that he has woken up and that he has also realises the position they are in. She feels his arousal but the next moment also feels him trying to extract his hand where it is so strategically positioned. Feeling mischievous she keeps her body relaxed and mumbling as if asleep she stiffens her hand and holds his hand in place. He relaxes a little but surreptitiously tries to shift his loins away from her. Mumbling again she moves her buttocks backwards and with a boldness that she surprises her she she rubs her rear against his arousal a few times before settling down as if to sleep. Take that Mister Storm! He stiffens again and slowly she feels his body relaxing but still tense. This is how she falls asleep, feeling extremely chuffed with herself...
Storm falls asleep with the sound of her voice in his ear, feeling the effects of the fever and the headache, a powerful fatigue and the lulling quality of her voice pushing him over the edge. He wakes up in the early hours of the morning and his first sensation is of a firm breast clutched firmly in his hand, and his arousal is instantaneous. Then he realises that he is cupping Clare with his body and that he has his hand up her t-shirt, with her breast in his hand! And...and...her hand is holding his hand in place! What the...!!! He stiffens automatically and decides to slowly extract his hand and place it in a more appropriate place. The moment he tries that she mumbles in her sleep and stiffening her hand keeps him firmly clutching her breast. Then he tries to shift his loins away from her and to his chagrin she mumbles and shifts closer again. The torture he endures is almost too much as she rubs his arousal with her lower body and he thinks to himself: damn-it woman! I am a man! He decides to lie still and try to relax and he feels Clare settling and become calmer in her sleep. He lays like that until sleep claims him again, thankfully quicker than anticipated.
He wakes up again and finds that he is alone in bed, and that the sun is shining outside. The first thing that comes to mind is the way he woke up during the night, clutching Clare's breast. Even though he gets aroused thinking about it, he is nervous about how she feels about it hoping that he hasn't offended her. Then he hears her entering the kitchen humming/singing a cheerful song that he half recognizes. Phew! If she is singing a cheerful song she can't be angry at him, or so he hopes. He can hear her putting the milk pail down on the kitchen sink and then her footsteps are approaching the room. When she walks through the door and cheerfully says: "Morning sunshine! And how are feeling this morning?" he releases the breath that he wasn't even aware of holding in.
