The computer beeped as the upload completed. A moment later, Ian Kabra appeared on the screen. Dan was surprised. "Hey, Ian, isn't it, like, two in the morning back there?" "It's called jet lag," Ian informed him. "I'm still on London time. I don't suppose you savages have any tea in this mausoleum." "There's a diet Snapple in the fridge." Ian shuddered. "I thought not.
Ian didn't come. He just sat here with you--he said he didn't care what you looked like. He wouldn't let anyone else put a finger on your tank at all, not even me or Mel. But Doc let me watch this time. It was way cool, Wanda. I don't know why you wouldn't let me watch before. They wouldn't let me help, though. Ian wouldn't let anyone touch you but him.' Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. 'I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.
Ian didn't come. He just sat here with you-he said he didn't care what you looked like. He wouldn't let anyone else put a finger on your tank at all, not even me or Mel. But Doc let me watch this time. It was way cool, Wanda. I don't know why you wouldn't let me watch before. They wouldn't let me help, though. Ian wouldn't let anyone touch you but him.' Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. His voice was so low that I was the only one who could hear. 'I held you in my hand, Wanderer. And you were so beautiful.
Shame on you, Crispin. Married how long, and you haven't spanked your wife with a metal spatula yet?" I'd gotten used to Ian's assumption that everyone was as perverted as he was, so I didn't miss a beat. "We prefer blender beaters for our kitchen utensil kink," I said with a straight face. Bones hid his smile behind his hand, but Ian looked intrigued. "I haven't tried that ... oh, you're lying, aren't you?" "Ya think?" I asked with a snort. Ian gave a sigh of exaggerated patience and glanced at Bones. "Being related to her through you is a real trial.
It was clear they weren't getting any information out of Ian tonight. She, Bones, and Cat followed as Spade supported Ian, almost carrying him up the stairs to then dump him on the bed in a guest room. "Before you go, mate, turn on the telly. Something raunchy, too. Think I'll rub one off before I sleep.
I sat down and tried to write a story. "Ian MacArthur is a wonderful sweet fellow who wears glasses and peers out of them with delight." That was the first sentence. The problem was that I just couldn't think of the next one. After cleaning my room three times, I decided to leave Ian alone for a while because I was starting to get mad at him.
I really need to remember to block my thoughts." "Oh, come on, " he pulled me closer towards him. "Why are you so scared?" "Because the second that I let this conversation happen, I'll be letting my walls down. No matter what answer you give me, you'll have some sort of power over me, and I don't want that." I pushed past him, plopping down on the bed, not bothering to remove my boots. I could feel the mattress sink beside me. Ian ran his fingers through my hair. "Come here, " he spoke softly. "Please." I pushed myself into a sitting position, and moved closer to him, leaning my head on Ian's shoulder. "I like this, a lot. It feels nice." Ian lifted my chin so that I was forced to look directly at him, and then he leaned in to kiss me.
Atticus adjusted his glasses as he peered down at the blanket. 'Hey, is that the book Nellie told us about?' Jake's eyes flicked to Olivia's book. 'You've got it outside in the sun? Are you out of your minds?' Amy crossed her arms. 'We're being careful.' 'It's not about careful, this is a five-hundred-year-old manuscript! You should be wearing gloves-Atticus brought some-and keeping it out of the sunlight.' 'It didn't take you long to start barking orders!' Any exclaimed, her face flushing. 'But then you always know best, don't you?' 'Somebody has to be mature in this situation, ' Jake said, his gaze flashing at Ian, who was now intently trying to brush cookie crumbs off his pants. 'True. In that case, we'd rather consult your little brother, ' Ian said with a smirk. 'Medieval manuscripts are his field, am I right?' 'Technically, it's early Renaissance, ' Jake said. 'Thanks for the correction, my good man. Amy is right-you do know best.' Ian slipped his arm around Amy. 'She's so perceptive. One of the many things I adore about her.' 'It's getting chilly. Why don't we go inside?' Amy suggested brightly as she tried to step out of the circle of Ian's arm. Ian took the opportunity to rub her shoulder. 'You do feel rather cold, ' he said. 'Let's sit by the fire. Jake, since you're so interested in proper handling, why don't you take the book?' Jake snatched up the book and furiously stomped off toward the house. 'You forgot to wear gloves!' Ian called after him. Amy pushed him away. 'Really, Ian.' 'What a touchy guy, ' Ian said. 'Frankly, I don't know what you see in him.' He winced as the kitchen door slammed, then glanced at Amy's red face. 'Hmmm. It might be a good time for me to take a walk.
You pay for that, ' he told Ian as he hopped off the hood. 'You pay for that, now.' Ian and Peter ignored him, circling around the car. The passenger jumped out and ran off at a sprint, as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. The taxi driver watched him go and stamped his foot in rage. 'You pay for him, too, ' he yelled at the men, seething in anger.
I, too, have felt that the war goes on and on. When my son, Ian, died at El Alamein-- side by side with... visitors offering their condolences, thinking to comfort me, said, "Life goes on." What nonsense, I thought, of course it doesn't. It's death that goes on; Ian is dead now and will be dead tomorrow and nexe year and forever. There's no end to that. But perhaps there will be an end to the sorrow of it.
Mary Ann Shaffer
Dan instantly recognized the angry scratch that stretched from the corner of Ian's eye all the way along the olive skin to his chin. "Have you been messing with Saladin?" "No. Saladin has been messing with me," Ian shot back. "He isn't big on Lucians," Dan explained. "Animals are really good judges of character.
As Ian popped the lock and opened the car door, he turned to Phoebe. 'Can you do me a favour?' She immediately stepped toward him, fully embracing their new mature relationship. 'Of course.' Ian looked pointedly over his own shoulder and said, 'Tell me the truth. Does this car make my glowing ass look fat?' She'd naturally followed the direction of his gaze, but now she looked up, hard, into his eyes. And she smiled back at him despite herself. She even laughed. 'You're an idiot.' 'When things get too serious, I get a rash.' She pointedly looked back down at his nether regions, despite the fact doing so made her blush. Still, she spoke coolly, dryly. 'Not on your ass.' If Ian believed in love, that would've been it for him. Instantly. Enthrallingly. Eternally. Instead, he just laughed. 'Thank God for that. See if there's anything remotely clothinglike in the backseat or the trunk.
With his current mood, Elizabeth realized, she was going to have to make her own opening. Lifting her eyes to his enigmatic golden ones, she said quietly, 'Ian, have you ever wanted something very badly-something that was within your grasp-and yet you were afraid to reach out for it?' Surprised by her grave question and her use of his name, Ian tried to ignore the jealousy that had been eating at him all night. 'No, ' he said, scrupulously keeping the curtness from his voice as he gazed down at her alluring face. 'Why do you ask? Is there something you want?' Her gaze fell from his, and she nodded at his frilled white shirtfront. 'What is it you want?' 'You.
Hey, guard!' Ian hollered out loud. 'Do you think we could get a bathroom break?' The guard seemed to snicker as he pointed to the grass outside the cell. Eena smirked at how dead-on her thoughts had been after all. 'Come on, ' Ian complained. 'She can't do that, she's a girl.' The soldier smiled wryly, a shrug communicating his indifference. Eena laughed in her mind. (I don't know what you think's so funny. You're the one who's gotta pee.) Oddly enough, that fact just made her laugh even more.
Richelle E. Goodrich
They went back to scooping up breakfast, licking the mess off their fingers. Soon the pile of berry mush was gone and their tongues were dyed a nice midnight blue. Ian seemed in a good mood, sticking his tongue out playfully at his best friend. Eena did likewise, right back at him. She was happy he was smiling, even if his teeth were purple. (You're too much fun, Eena, ) Ian announced in her mind. (I'm really glad we're friends.) (Me too, ) she agreed. (Best friends.) Ian leaned back on his hands and watched the waves roll in from far off. The swells were building into large, flat-crested waves. (Angelle never thought like you do. You're creative and kinda crazy. Her thoughts were always more simple and, well...normal.) (Yeah, well, deadly dragons and evil witches tend to suck all the normal right out of you, ) she grumbled. (I suppose.)
Richelle E. Goodrich
Ian's the black sheep." "I thought I was the black sheep," said Seth, sounding almost hurt. "No. You're the unfocused artistic one. I'm the responsible one. Ian's the wild, hedonistic one." "What's hedonistic?" asked Kendall. Her father considered. "It means you run up a lot of credit card bills you can't pay, change jobs a lot, and have a lot of... lady friends.
Wanderer: You don't really feel that way about me you know. It's this body... she's pretty isn't she? Ian: She is. Melanie is a very pretty girl. Even beautiful. But pretty as she is, she is a stranger to me. She's not the one I... care about. Wanderer: It's this body. Ian: That's not true at all. It's not the face, but the expressions on it. It's not the voice, but what they say. It's not how you look like in that body, it's what you do with it. You are beautiful.
Ian saw the tears shimmering in her magnificent eyes and one of them traced unheeded down her smooth cheek. With a raw ache in his voice he said, "If you would take one step forward, darling, you could cry in my arms. And while you do, I'll tell you how sorry I am for everything I've done - " Unable to wait, Ian caught her, pulling her tightly against him. "And when I'm finished, " he whispered hoarsely as she wrapped her arms around him and wept brokenly, "you can help me find a way to forgive myself." Tortured by her tears, he clasped her tighter and rubbed his jaw against her temple, his voice a ravaged whisper: "I'm sorry, " he told her. He cupped her face between his palms, tipping it up and gazing into her eyes, his thumbs moving over her wet cheeks. "I'm sorry." Slowly, he bent his head, covering her mouth with his. "I'm so damned sorry.
He made a commitment, Eena.' 'And you believe this commitment, ' she spoke the word detestably, 'is more important than true love?' 'Yes.' 'No, ' she stubbornly disagreed. 'Yes, ' Ian insisted as he put his finger to her lips, preventing her from arguing any further. 'Love grows and wanes, Eena, but honor, duty, and commitment, those things are constant and stable. They define who you are.' 'They define who you are?' she repeated. 'You mean miserable?' 'Content, ' he retorted. 'Lonely, ' she argued. 'Faithful, ' he insisted, his eyes widening to emphasize the importance of the word. 'Empty, regretful, and... ' 'Hopeful, ' Ian whispered in her ear. This word caught her off guard. At present, hope was probably all any of them could cling to.
Richelle E. Goodrich