It is only young Andrew, you, and me here. His parents have gone to a friends cottage to get some much needed rest. They are worried senseless over their only child. She shook her head. Do you think me a wi"

Artair pressed his finger to her lips. Do not even speak such nonsense. I worry more what others will a.s.sume if they saw your book. To you it is an acc.u.mulation of knowledge; to the less wise, it would appear arcane writings meant to hurt and destroy.

She reluctantly agreed with him. Unfortunately, youre right, which is why I call it my secret book. The knowledge within is best kept for my eyes alone.

But you let me see it?

She smiled and patted his hand where it rested on the chair. You are my husband.

He nodded with a grin. It is a wise wife who does not keep secrets from her husband.

I would never keep secrets from my husband. There would be no reason to.

You are a good wife already.

She chuckled. Dont speak too soon.

They both laughed softly, and he pointed to the open pages of her book. Can you find something that will help?

Im trying a combination of things, but I have found that with an illness such as this, sometimes the only thing that can be done is to let it run its course.

Then the village will survive this strange outbreak? Artair asked with concern.

I cant be sure. It seems the very young and the elderly have the hardest time battling the sickness.

Those with strength survive? he asked.

It seems that way, which is why I try to strengthen the less hardy.

There is nothing more you can do?

Patience is a big part of a healers strength, she said.

Artair leaned down and whispered in her ear. Patience and pa.s.sion, not a harmonious match.

His warm breath felt like feathers tickling along her neck, and her flesh instantly p.r.i.c.kled. She shuddered as she turned a smile on him. It takes patience to know true pa.s.sion.

I never thought of it that way.

Thats because youre too practical. But youll learn, she said.

So confident.

She stretched, reaching up to kiss his cheek. In you? Always.

His hand caressed her neck. I knew you would make a good wife.

Of course I would, she whispered. But will you make a good husband?

The young lad woke crying, and Zia jumped out of the rocker, closing her book and handing it to Artair. Keep it safe.

She didnt hear his response, or perhaps was too focused on the lad to have heard it. She needed to get more of her brewed broth into him and to make certain he got as much rest as possible.

The lad took the broth without a problem. Zia had prepared a tasty brew so the ill wouldnt refuse to drink it. However, Andrew didnt want to go back to bed, so she returned with him in her arms to the rocking chair.

After a short time he fell asleep, and as she stared at him, his full cheeks flushed with fever, she thought of how much she looked forward to having her own children, lots of them.

With her free hand, she reached in the basin near the chair, squeezed the cool cloth, and gently caressed his feverish brow. He squirmed and cuddled in her arms. She held him close and comforted with soft words and the cool cloth.

Youd make a good mother, Artair said, stepping out of the shadows.

You didnt leave? she asked quietly, noticing he still held her journal.

I thought you might need help, but I saw how easily and gently you handled the child. I amend what I said before, though I believe it a quality you alone possess. You have the patience to heal and the pa.s.sion for healing, which makes you an amazing woman and healer.

Zia was glad that the arrival of Clare, the lads mother, interrupted any further discussion. Artairs compliment had overwhelmed her, and she wasnt certain how or if she should respond.

Is my Andrew all right? the young mother asked anxiously.

Hes fine, Zia said, and motioned her over. Why dont you put him in bed; he needs his rest.

Clare nodded as Zia placed the sleeping lad in her arms. She hugged him close and kissed the top of his head.

Hes such a good son. She looked to Zia with tears in her eyes. h.e.l.l be all right, wont he?

I believe so, though he needs to rest and drink the broth.

Clare nodded. He hadnt wanted to eat, and barely drank anything until you gave him that broth.

It helps heal, Zia a.s.sured the worried mother.

Clare rested an anxious hand to her cheek after placing Andrew in bed. Good Lord, I almost forgot. Youre needed at old Marys. She isnt doing well.

You know what to do, Zia confirmed with Clare, and as soon as the woman nodded, Zia hurried out the door.

Artair followed her.

Please put my journal in my garment sack.

Then? he asked, keeping pace with her.

Then youre on your own, Zia said, and sped off.

Artair roamed the village after doing as Zia asked. He had instructed his men to become familiar with the layout of Donnan and with its people and to report any change in talk or behavior to him immediately. And to be wary of any strangers who arrived, especially with word spreading that a sickness had hit the village. No one would dare come there unless Someone was interested in the healer.

He kept close watch over Zia, following her from cottage to cottage, and after a few hours wondered how she kept up her frantic pace. She no sooner got finished with one ailing person than another summoned her, and then there were those whom she revisited more often"whose fevers had spiked and who appeared to be losing the battle. But like any courageous warrior, she refused to give up. She fought on.

While he admired her tenacity, it also worried him. Zia constantly put the well-being of others before herself. No matter how tired she was, she kept going and didnt complain. She seemed to thrive on it.

Pa.s.sion.

He had known pa.s.sion with more than one woman, and on more than one occasion. But that was different. Or was it that Zia was different? She seemed to embody pa.s.sion in everything she did. It was a significant part of who she was, and he doubted she could ever do without it, though he did wonder if in time it might dim or burn out completely. After all, it wasnt reasonable to think that her extraordinary pa.s.sion could last forever.

By late afternoon he realized that Zia had eaten nothing all day. Between tending people, shed been busy crushing leaves and brewing broth, and was now baking bread to distribute among the ill. And it was only their first day in Donnan.

He caught up with her in old Marys cottage"Mary being the oldest and weakest of those ill.

He stood in the open doorway, his hands braced overhead on the wooden frame. You bake bread but have eaten nothing.

Zia looked up from her task, smiled, and dusted her hands on the faded and stained white ap.r.o.n that hugged her waist and protected her dark blue skirt. She walked over to him and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

Ill have a rest right here, she said with a sigh.

His arms coiled with a gentle strength around her. Rest as long as you like.

I wish it could be for A heavy sigh followed, and he wondered if she wished as he did, that they could remain this close forever.

You need rest and food, he said, caressing her back.

Theres no time.

Well make time, he insisted, her welfare his only concern.

There are many who need me.

If you are too tired or take ill, you will do them little good, he said.

She rubbed her face in his shirt and took a deep breath. I love the scent of you. It reminds me of woods and earth and fire. She sighed again. And you are right. I should eat.

His only thought for a moment was that she liked the scent of him and he liked the way she snuggled her face into his chest. He almost had to shake his head to clear it and he had to tame his stirring pa.s.sion. This was about her, not him. You also need help. There are too many ailing villagers for you to look after.

Once I have enough broth and bread made, I can distribute it to the families who have ailing relatives and they can help see to their care.

You can take a few moments and eat first.

She glanced up at him with a smile. Is that an order, husband?

He liked being addressed as her husband, and smiled. No, a concern.

A thoughtful husband. I like that. She patted his chest. I just need to set the bread to baking and then I can spare a little time to eat, though I would prefer to remain close to Mary. She turned and looked at the old woman asleep in the bed. Im worried about her. Shes so frail.

Artair nodded. Ill get us some food and we can eat right outside. Its warm and the sun is bright. Im sure you can use some fresh air.

Besides, part of him was selfish; he wanted some time with her, even if it was only a short time. He knew shed be back to healing the sick soon enough, but for now hed have her to himself.

He sat on a bench just outside the cottage door. When he requested some food for the healer from the villagers, he was given more than he needed, but accepted it with appreciation. These people were grateful for her help and they showed it.

When Zia joined him and quickly dug into the basket of food, he wasnt surprised. I told you that you were hungry, he said, laughing.

She nodded, her mouth full.

He didnt interrupt her meal with senseless chatter. He enjoyed sitting in silence watching her take pleasure in every morsel she put in her mouth, and the way she tilted her head back now and again so the sun could kiss her face. She relished her life; whether healing or simply sitting, she found pleasure in it all, and suddenly he wanted some of that enduring pa.s.sion. He wanted her.

You are beautiful, he said.

Her smile and eyes brightened simultaneously. You really mean that.

Why wouldnt I?

She shook her head slowly, the brightness in her face never fading. Its just that I could see it your face. She stretched her hand out, her fingertips grazing along the corner of his eye. Here. I see the depths of truth here, and it touches my heart.

He would have kissed her then and there if an anxious woman hadnt interrupted them.

Another young one has fallen ill, the plump, tired-eyed woman said, twisting her hands fretfully.

Zia stood and without a word went off with the woman. Just when she almost disappeared from sight, she turned and waved at him. He understood her well enough now to not take it as an afterthought. It pleased him that he had entered her thoughts and that she had acknowledged him.

He wasnt sure about what was happening or certain of the feelings stirring inside him, though he knew that he wanted Zia in his life, and not just as a brief interlude. He sat there for a while thinking that only a few days ago he hadnt even known her, and now thought of her as a permanent part of his life. He most certainly must be foolish.

Foolishly in love.

He would have laughed if it wasnt so serious. He couldnt possibly believe he was in love with Zia. That he was attracted to her, cared about her, admired her"yes. But love? That was something else that took more than a few days to determine.

He continued to sit there as the sun wilted in the sky, luscious scents drifted out of the cottage chimneys, villagers meandered to their homes, and evening settled around them. And still He continued to think of Zia.

Chapter 13.

Zia rubbed the back of her neck and down along her shoulder. The stiffness would grow worse but it couldnt be helped. There were too many ill people who continued to need her. She worried that if she didnt get the illness under control it would infect the entire village. She had worked endlessly, and prayed that she would soon see good results.

Now and then, when she could, she caught a wink of sleep. In the three days she had been there, she had managed only a few hours. Artair had made certain that she ate, bringing her food when she hadnt even realized she was hungry.

His attentiveness had caught the attention of the village women, and many remarked to her how considerate and patient her husband was. They were right. Artair was patient. He didnt grow angry with her or make demands. He would reason with her and of course he would make sense and she would do as he suggested.

She had realized soon enough what a good man he was, but it startled her to realize the full depth of his genuine character. And she actually felt a sense of luck that he should be the one to rescue her, though perhaps fate had something to do with that. Or could it have been love that brought Artair to her?

What most fascinated her about him was the way he controlled his pa.s.sion. It sparked in his eyes now and again, though he never let it flare. And she felt it in his touch, especially when he held her and caressed her back. He was careful where he touched, never going beyond the proper boundaries. She reminded herself that they had only met and she shouldnt expect more And yet?

She smiled and hugged herself. She wanted much more from him. She wanted to taste deep pa.s.sion, kisses that ignited, touches that demanded. And, eventually, if he proved the right man?

Intimacy.

She was glad that her healing skills had allowed her to learn about intimacy without actually experiencing it. Shed been forced on many occasions to ask personal questions in order to treat a woman, and often the women provided more than she needed.