Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Tears welled in the mother’s eyes. “Bless you, mistress. You’ve a healer’s heart.”
Elara spoke a bit more with the woman, hoping the word herb-scribe or healer would not be heard and whispered through the village. Or there could very well be consequences.
But word travels faster than silence. An old man with a cough was waiting outside when the woman opened the door to leave. A woman was limping toward the cottage, ankle swollen, and a mother with a crying bairn in her arms hurried from the distance. Elara couldn’t turn them away. She had the knowledge and skill they needed, and it wouldn’t be right to deny them. She worked until signs of dusk approached her, hands steady, her spirit light.
When the last of them left, they thanked her with small offerings; apples, a loaf of coarse bread, oatcakes, and cheese. She hurried and cleaned up the cottage and gave a last glance around, wishing things were different, wishing the healers weren’t in danger, wishing she could simply continue her work as an herb-scribe.
She stepped outside to find not only the woman from the herb stall there, but Dar approaching with the two horses they had ridden.
“I’m here to tell you that everyone in the village agreed. You and your husband are welcome to stay the night, longer if you wish, here in the cottage. You deserve it for tending to our ill.”
Elara saw how Dar’s eyes narrowed and his jaw grew taut. He was angry with her.
“That is kind and generous of all of you and I thank you for a place to shelter for the night,” she said, making it clear they would be leaving tomorrow.
“Then I will leave you to rest,” the woman said. “But know you are welcome to stay longer if you wish and you have a home here any time you wish to return.”
Elara thanked her again and the woman walked off, though made a point of stopping by Dar to say, “You are a lucky man to have such a generous wife and skilled herb-scribe.”
Dar approached the cottage, stopping to tie the horses’ reins to a tree branch before reaching her, grabbing hold of her arm, and hurrying her inside. His eyes swept the cottage. There was no mistake, it belonged to a healer.
“What in the blazes were you thinking?” he snapped sharply.
“They needed a healer. But I am an herb-scribe the closest thing to a healer, so I did what was needed.”
“How did they learn you had more than a healer’s knowledge?” he demanded, his jaw still tight with annoyance.
“I was drawn to the herb stall,” she admitted as if that explained it.
He stepped closer to her. “And what happens when the wrong sort finds out?”
Their gazes locked, the tension between them taut.
“I couldn’t turn them away,” she said, with a resigned sigh. “Would you have me watch a child suffer?”
“Nay,” he said, her honesty and caring causing his anger to subside. “I want you safe, that’s all.”
“No healer is safe until the king finds who he searches for,” she reminded him.
He stood silent for a moment, not paying mind to her words, relieved that no harm had come to her, and the urge to kiss her overwhelming him. He warned himself against it, but it did little good. The desire was too much to ignore.
His hand was suddenly at the back of her neck, holding it firmly as his lips came down on hers.
It was no soft, sweet kiss that landed on her lips. It was eager and demanding and Elara responded without giving it thought. She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. But she couldn’t resist and her lips demanded as much from him as he did from her.
His hand slipped off the back of her neck, down along her back to tuck her hard against him, though he didn’t need to persuade her. She responded willingly, instinctively as though it was meant to be, as though they were truly husband and wife.
The thought had her tearing her mouth away from his and stepping hastily away from him, and with labored breath said, “This cannot be. There is no future for us.”
“But there is this moment to enjoy,” he said, his eyes heated unmistakably with passion.
Briefly, she considered it, only briefly. “I do not look for a moment, a joining that means little.”
He stepped back, glancing down at the food offerings on the table and snatched up a piece of cheese. “So, you are a maiden who prefers marriage to pleasure.”
His words reminded her just who he was. “And you are a wanderer who prefers pleasure to anything permanent. A mismatched pair for sure.”
“Aye, that we are,” he said, understanding that she meant they would never know intimacy together. “We’ll leave at first light. Tonight, we’ll enjoy the shelter and decent food.”