His voice sounded far away, slurred. “Tell me now where I am.”
“You are with the Ramalho. You are as safe as any of us.”
Ramalho? Had he heard that somewhere? There was a familiarity about it. Something, something, but what?
“What planet is this?”
“You are on Adena.”
Adena. It all crashed together inside his skull. He remembered all of it.
It was hopeless. He was well and truly dead. No one lived on Adena. The atmosphere was toxic. All the exploratory probes had brought back air samples laden with carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, methane and a strange flesh-eating bacterium. No one could survive after breathing in that mixture. It ate a person from the lungs out.
It seemed the probes were incorrect. Someone did live on Adena, after all.
He let the blessed blackness take him.
Chapter 5
Saba watched the stranger sleep. The titiyi bark was doing its job. He slept like the dead, the fever washing what toxins it could from his body in rivers of sweat. She’d have to bathe him again tomorrow. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered touching him.
He was tall, at least as tall as Tyree. His legs were long and muscular, straight and well formed. She hadn’t seen any wounds that gave any indication of what had happened to his legs, but something had. The nerves in his back had received some sort of damage, which had affected his manhood as well. There had been no response there as she’d washed him.
She’d not been surprised. His condition had certainly indicated that he had lost feeling from his waist down. But it wasn’t total, and that was perplexing. He’d screamed in agony, when they’d moved his legs. Whatever had happened would take a lot of healing, if it could heal at all.
Saba reached out and took his hand again. There was a shallow, jagged abrasion on the outside of his palm that oozed nasty-looking yellowish-green pus. Never had she ever seen infection look like that. She gently laid his hand on his stomach and went to her meager apothecary and selected an assortment of dried herbs and began working them into a thick paste with a small amount of purified tallow. Once she was finished, she carried the small bowl over to him.
Whether or not the paste would help, she didn’t know. In some regards it didn’t matter, but she had to do something for that infection. At the very least, it would not make the cut any worse. She wrapped a long length of clean cloth around his hand not bothering to tie it off. If he woke and was curious to see what she’d done, she wanted him to be able to remove the cloth without ripping it. Cloth was precious, and she would boil it and use it again, although not on an open wound.
She wiped his face again and then started to work the tangles out of his hair. She’d never seen hair quite like his before, dark underneath with streaks of golden brown on top and long enough to fall past his shoulders in unruly waves. Its softness surprised her as she combed her fingers through the fine, silky threads.
The stranger moved restlessly at her touch. She didn’t even know his name to speak to him and reassure him that he was safe. Sometimes the sick couldn’t hear if she didn’t say their name.
“You’re safe. Rest. Things will be better in the morning.”
They might not be, but she couldn’t confess that to him. In the morning, Tyree would push him for answers. In the morning, his condition could be worse. In the morning, the errol might attack.
He seemed to settle into a deeper sleep. She should sleep as well, but her mind was just too active for sleep, her body almost too tired. They had moved Hallaf to another hut, and sent Delnor with him. She had her bed to herself and could rest without worry about waking anyone. However, there was another reason she couldn’t sleep.
The stranger’s pack lay in the corner, almost hidden in shadow.
Whether or not Tyree had purposefully left it for the morning, she didn’t know, but her hands itched to open it tonight. Tyree might not show her everything the pack held, thinking it his right to withhold any part and parcel of information he deemed fit. He would also trust her not to open it without him.
Just this once she would betray Tyree’s trust. She moved quietly and retrieved the pack. Incredibly heavy for such a small bag, Saba gingerly opened the flap and looked inside. An assortment of very cold, very smooth, strangely shaped items lay jumbled together. They were not made of metal, but of a material she’d never known before.
Weapons! The strange objects have to be weapons. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
Hands shaking, she hastily closed the bag and returned it to the corner. This changed everything. She curled up in the center of her bed, pulling the edge of her blanket over her.
Either the room was too cool or she was chilled. If it were the room, she couldn’t allow it to chill further, which it would as the night went on. She hopped off the bed and stoked the fire, carefully placing three of her dwindling pile of logs to optimize their burn. It wasn’t long before the room warmed.
Saba checked on the stranger again. Unaware of her presence, he slept deeply. She sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in the blanket, and lost in her musings.
Tyree certainly suspected the pack held weapons. If he’d left here with the pack, the men of the village would have seen and known it contained something of value. That was why he’d left it with her instead of taking it to his hut in front of curious eyes. That and the knowledge the stranger would never be able to reach it and turn a weapon on her. She pulled her blanket closer, cold despite the heat of the room. She watched the stranger, and waited.
It was dawn, the sun just peeking over the mountain, when her patient finally stirred. She went to his side, laying her hand on his cheek. The titiyi bark had done its job, and his fever was gone.
He was also very pale. His dark eyelashes and brows contrasted sharply against his white skin. His lips were bloodless. It wasn’t lost on her that he was a handsome man, or at least he would be when his color came back.
“Can you hear me? Are you awake?”
Clear blue eyes popped open, surprising her with their lucidity. Recognition flickered in them. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy but he didn’t struggle to draw breath. It was a good sign.
“Ah, my angel.”
His angel? What dream had he lived as she’d tended him?
“I’m not an angel. My name is Saba. Do you remember how you came to be here?”
His eyes closed. He swallowed with some difficulty. “No.”
She forced herself not to react. He was lying, but she understood why. She might, too, in his position.
“You don’t need to keep information from me. I wish you no harm.” She lifted his wrapped hand and began removing the binding cloth. He watched closely as she probed the cut. It seemed to be healing. “What is your name, or should we simply call you the stranger?”
He took a ragged breath then looked at her again. She’d never seen eyes so blue.
“Vaughan. Ryder Vaughan.”
“That is an usual name, Vaughan Ryder Vaughan. Does it hold a special meaning among your people?”
He started to shake. She grabbed his shoulders, alarmed. A seizure could do more damage to his root nerves and she wasn’t strong enough to hold him down. Only he wasn’t having a seizure—he was laughing at her.
“I do not see the humor in my question.”
He smiled, transforming his face. Little lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. The lines of pain eased. Saba suspected she was getting a glimpse of the real man, one full of cheerful humor with a good dose of boyishness remaining in his heart.
“Just call me Ryder. It’s easier.” His smile faded. The deeply etched lines of pain returned. His eyes closed again. “I think it means ‘horseman’ or something like that. I never paid much attention.”
She sensed his withdrawal. Perhaps he was searching for some place where he could fight the pain and win. She hoped he could find it and rest, but first she had to keep him with her just a bit longer.
“Ryder,
are you thirsty?”
“Very.”
Saba stepped outside and looked in her water pail. The boys hadn’t yet drawn the day’s fresh water for her. She went to the well herself even though it meant leaving Ryder alone for a few minutes. When she returned, Ryder was struggling to sit up.
“Do not!” She all but dropped her pail and rushed to his side.
“Lady, I’ve got to piss and I mean now.” He pointed at the privy bucket. “Give me that and get out.”
“You cannot stand! If you fall, you may injure yourself more.”
“Give it here! Now!”
She was so surprised at the strength in his voice, she snatched it up and handed it to him.
“Out!”
Saba retreated to the door, refusing to go further. She did turn her back to him, though. He mumbled something that sounded like he called her stubborn. Well, he didn’t yet know the half of it, did he?
A few moments later he breathed out a long sigh of relief. She sneaked a glance at him. He had pulled the blanket around his hips. It probably wasn’t the time to remind him she’d seen all of him the night before, and in very poor condition. The tightly closed look on his face told her that he was well aware she’d had a good look at him. Like most males, he was probably embarrassed she had tended him so intimately when he was not at his best. They were strange that way.
She held out her hand and took the bucket from him. The contents were an ugly rusty color. Those blue eyes watched her, waiting.
“We won’t worry about this too much today. If there is still blood tomorrow morning, I will give you something.”
“You’re a healer who lets the body heal itself?”
“Of course. Is that not the best way?” She set the bucket on the ledge outside her rear window. Jennica or Delnor would tend to it shortly, or she would after she’d had something to eat. She looked at Ryder. He was still sitting up.
“You should lie down and try to rest.”
“You’re a bossy little thing, but you’re very pretty with it. Excuse my bad manners before. I thank you for saving my life.”
Pretty? He thought she was pretty? Surely she’d misunderstood that.
“It’s not within my power to save lives. That rests with the gods. They use me for their own purposes.”
He snorted. “Are you going to give me a dipper of that water?” He glanced at the glowing embers in the hearth then his gaze met hers once more. “I’ll go to sleep if you give me a drink.”
She suspected he’d pass out whether he got his drink of water or not. She dipped her best mug into the cool water and handed it to him. His hands shook as he lifted it to his lips, swallowing the liquid in great, fast gulps. She reached to wrap her hands around his and steady him but he paused and shook his head.
To give her hands something else to do, she dipped a washcloth into the basin then wrung it out. Stirring the water brought a light herbal scent into the air.
“Here. Press this to your forehead for a moment. Perhaps it will help relax you.”
He followed her instructions without protest.
“It smells good,” he said softly. He wiped his face and neck with the cloth and she noted he was even paler than before. The bruised look beneath his eyes had darkened.
“You need to sleep.” She took the cloth from him. He tried to lie back on the bed but couldn’t lift his legs. Saba slipped her arm beneath his knees to aid him, wincing as he cried out sharply, a spasm racking his body.
She eased his legs down, extending them. His calf muscles trembled under her hands. She gently massaged feeling the strength in him. “Does this pain you?”
He replied through clenched teeth, “Yes, but if you’re going to give me a rubdown, I’ll survive it.”
“We’ll wait another day.” She settled the blanket over him, tucking it in around his feet. She moved to pull it over his very broad, very bruised chest. His hands snaked out, grabbing her wrists and pulling her to him with a surprising amount of strength for a man in his condition.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as his grip tightened. She couldn’t break free. He was simply too strong. His gaze bored into hers.
“Listen to me, Saba. I want you to go over there and get in my pack and bring me the little blue box. It’s not a weapon. I swear.”
“Should I believe you when you hurt me?”
“Not at all. But I’m telling you the truth. It’s a med kit. It has drugs in it that may help me.”
“I looked in your pack and did not see anything blue.”
He blinked rapidly, several times. “It has to be there,” he muttered distractedly. His eyes met hers again as he released her wrists. “Please, Saba. Just bring me the pack.”
Whether he told the truth or not, she didn’t know. The quiet desperation in his voice made her believe that whatever he wanted was vital to his survival. She darted to the corner and retrieved the pack. His hands closed convulsively over it.
He reached inside, fumbling with something. She snatched the pack from him. It had an inside compartment she’d missed. Her fingers closed around a small, flat box.
“Satisfied?”
She blushed. “I should not have grabbed it away from you. I am sorry.”
He snorted again then sighed tiredly. “Just put that med kit someplace safe. Don’t tell anyone you have it. It’s very valuable. Do you understand?”
“You’ll explain this to me after you’ve slept?”
“Sure. If you kiss me.”
Chapter 6
His angel scrambled away from him so fast, she stumbled over the fireside stool. Ryder snaked out an arm to catch her. The sudden lurching movement gave the insidious pain opportunity to strike. Searing flames licked his legs. He clenched his teeth against the agony, determined not to cry out, not in front of his angel.
The effort was wasted. She saw his pain and came back to his side and laid her cool hand in the middle of his chest. He closed his eyes and willed his body to relax. Another spasm of pain seized him then the tension eased. The fire receded with excruciating slowness, never leaving him completely, but at least he could deal with the low, persistent heat that remained.
At least he could deal with it for a while. A wave of despair washed over him, borne on the fear he’d live the rest of his life with pain.
Not that he needed to worry about that too much. He was surely destined to have a short life. The planet of Adena would make no concessions to a cripple. If he couldn’t farm or hunt, he’d have to depend on the charity of others. He’d rather have the atmospheric toxins get him. Only, they didn’t seem to exist.
He opened his eyes to find her watching him, concerned. “I’ll live, angel. I just won’t enjoy it much.”
He wouldn’t enjoy it any if he couldn’t eventually get her into his bed, and take her like a whole man. He formed the image of them coupling in his mind. His penis didn’t even notice.
Just his luck to find Her now.
“Do not say that. It’s too soon to believe that you will not heal. Try to sleep.”
“What? I don’t get that kiss?”
Her features rearranged themselves into what must be the healer’s most stern expression. He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at her.
To his amazement, she leaned over and kissed his forehead the way a mother would kiss an ill child.
“Will that suffice?”
Hardly. “I suppose it will have to, won’t it?” He tried to press the small of his back to the bed, grimacing at the pull of sore muscles in his back.
“Be still. Will you agree to take something for the pain?”
To be free of the pain, even for just a few moments, would be such a relief—if he could trust her not to slip him something more.
“I’m alright. I’ll be fine. Just let me go to sleep.” He patted the bed beside him. “You could take a nap with me.”
Her eyes widened. She swallowed, hard. Was that longing that flashed through her eyes so quickly?
Or fear?
The look passed so quickly he wondered if his imagination had played a trick on him. No, she looked at him too strangely. Her chin lifted. When she spoke, her voice was calm and strong.
“Do you have weapons in your pack as well as medicines?”
Surprised, his gaze locked with hers. “Since you are astute enough to ask that, you must know the answer.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
I’ve never seen eyes so dark. I could get lost in them. He pushed the thought away. The intuition that had served him so well—usually—said she was working up to something big.
“Will you show me how to use them?”
She had a lot of self-control, he’d give her that. The only thing that showed of her nervousness was the throbbing pulse point at the base of her neck. Her heart was pounding and yet he’d never know it from her cool voice and the still hand that lay gently on his arm.
He’d remember that if they ever wagered against each other.
“It’s better that you not know them, angel. They don’t belong here on this world.”
“They are here on this world, as are you. We have need of them.”
Ryder’s heart stopped, then twisted painfully before it began beating again. He was in the middle of something—what he hadn’t figured out. Whatever it was, he was helpless in it.
“Oh? Why would you need my weapons? They’re for self-defense, not war.”
She was quick to answer. “We are not at war, not really. And defense is what we need. We are threatened.”
He looked at her, watching her closely. She licked her lips. It was the sign he’d been looking for, the slight break in her nerves.
“Why don’t you fix me whatever it’s you can fix to help me sleep? And while you’re doing that, why don’t you tell me how you’re threatened?”
She nodded and moved to her worktable, taking a small strip of cloth and wrapping a few dried herbs in it before dropping the bundle into a crockery cup. She found a piece of leather toweling and folded it into a small square to wrap around the handle of her kettle as she lifted it from the hearth. He caught a whiff of something spicy, and not too unpleasant, as she poured the steaming water over the herbs. She pulled a chair next to his bed and sat down holding the mug.
A Hero's Bargain Page 4
