The Sixth Discipline
Page 92
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Later that night, Ran-Del lay in bed and studied Francesca’s profile as she lay next to him. Her eyes were wide open, but it didn’t look to Ran-Del as if she were seeing anything. The only illumination came from the slender crescent of Tranquility that shone through the windows.
“Francesca,” Ran-Del said quietly.
She didn’t stir for a second, and then she turned her head. “Yes, Ran-Del.”
“It’s all right to grieve. You loved him very much.”
She went back to staring at the ceiling. “You hated him, didn’t you? I remember when he was holding you prisoner, and you tried to get away. You would have killed him then.”
“I would have then,” Ran-Del said. “But whatever bad feelings I had, I put them aside when I came back here with you.”
Francesca lay as still as ever, and then her lip began to tremble and she covered her face with her hands. Ran-Del could feel her sense of loss and pain rising. “I miss Pop. He was the only family I had for so long, and I miss him so much!”
Ran-Del folded her in his arms and pulled her close against him.
Francesca clutched at him frantically, and then sighed. “I remember that night out on the plains together. I wanted you so badly, Ran-Del. I could have cried from frustration when you decided to stop.”
Ran-Del stroked her body, running his hands from her neck down her torso and then down her thigh. He didn’t speak until he had opened her nightgown and slipped it over her shoulders. “Do you want me to stop now?”
“No,” Francesca whispered. “No. You know I don’t, Ran-Del.”
Ran-Del laid his body across hers, and gave himself up to her feelings. Desire mixed with a wild grief, and Ran-Del burned with rage and longing at the same time. They made love fiercely, and then Francesca wept quietly in his arms until she slept.