by Glenda Diana
She was slightly surprised by his suggestion. Usually he liked to stay strictly in his chambers in the evenings. "I think that would be a wonderful idea. You need a change of scenery. It might do your digestive system wonders."
"Thank you for reminding me ... never mind."
"Oh, Zebual, don't think about that. You know that if you get sick that I will help you to your room."
"And what if I can't make it up there in time? What then?"
"Then you can lie on the settee and I'll rub your back."
He shook his head. No, that wouldn't do. That was their time together, a time he didn't want anyone to intrude on or to observe. "Maybe when I'm stronger."
"All right, I'm going to hold you to that promise," she said, helping him up the stairs.
He gave a grunt and then smiled slightly. "You probably will."
"Come lie down."
Zebual did as directed, turning his back to her. He waited with bated breath to feel her hands upon him. To hear her soothing voice calm the raging emotions that churned through him. Softly her song started and then built in tempo until it wrapped around him and eased the rolling in his stomach. He listened to the words as they drifted over him. It was a lullaby and one that he had heard before and sung just as sweetly. Though it had a soothing effect, it was a painful reminder. Turmoil and anguish flashed through his mind, making tears prickle behind his eyes.
"Zebual, is there something wrong?"
"Nay ... no, I was just thinking. Where did you learn that song?"
"I don't know. I would imagine that it's from my illusive past."
"You sing it beautifully," he murmured.
"Thank you. But I believe that you, in some way, have something to do with the song."
Zebual stiffened slightly. "Why?"
"Just a feeling I get."
He lay still and let her magical touch ease him and stir him. The way she had adjusted to his appearance was something that still mystified him.
But not so with Arysa, she went out of her way to see to his needs. When he trembled uncontrollably, she was there with a heavy blanket to wrap around him. When he didn't feel like taking another bite of his food, she would cajole him into it. And when he thought his stomach would rebel against it, she would sing her soothing song to him. At night when he tried to prowl around the room, she took his skeleton like hands in hers and walked beside him. When he was rude and abrupt with her, she would shrug his words and her hurt away and redouble her efforts. She read, conversed and did everything in her power to keep his spirits up.
One time she had shocked him so greatly that he nearly fell out of his bed. She had told him that when he was well again he would be most handsome man. And when he asked what had caused to make such a ridiculous statement, her answer was direct and simple ... she thought him handsome now and good health would only increase his appearance. It was then that he realized just how fanciful she truly was. She thought her words of kindness would act as a healing to his own awareness of his appearance. He had laughed at her ... and himself. He wasn't sure if there was enough magic in the world or in Arysa to bring about such wonders, but for her sake he kept his opinion to himself.
Every time he looked into her emerald eyes he wanted her. Nothing had changed that fact, if anything it had only intensified. He longed to see her hair down and flowing around her, to touch its soft gleaming waves of vitality and youth. Whenever she was near him, his heart pounded fiercely and just the simple touch of her hand set his soul on fire.
Zebual tried to grab hold of his rioting emotions before they became too undisciplined. Almost frantically he tried to think of something to say ... anything that would get his mind off the delicious scent of her. Nothing, not time nor absence had altered the effect she had on him. She still made him feel like a lad with no mind of his own. He should have prepared himself for her. That thought made him smile. Nothing would ever prepare him for the effects Arysa had on him.
"Have you been out to the stables again," he asked quietly.
Arysa gave a soft laugh. "You know that I haven't. Your household reports all my movements to you. I sometimes think you know what I'm doing before I do."
Zebual ignored her comment. "You should start riding. Nightstar has always been fond of you and I imagine he has missed the rides you and he took."
"I don't know how to ride."
Turning his head slightly, he glanced at her. "Yes, you do."
"All right, let me rephrase that. I don't remember how to ride. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I like the idea of being bounced around on the back of that war-horse."
"With some practice, you wouldn't bounce around."
"Now you sound like Justin," she said with a laugh.
Zebual grunted. "Begin practicing tomorrow ... please."
Arysa stopped stroking his hair. "You cannot order me about, Zebual. I do as I please. I have more important things to take care of here inside the house."
"A person shouldn't shut themselves inside for days, months-years at a time."
It was evident in his expression and his tone that he was referring to himself and his sickness. Her chest ached for him. He was the wounded beast tonight, she thought. A wounded beast that was neither living nor dead, but if she had her way she would bring him back to the living side of the chasm he now existed on.
"You miss riding?" Arysa made her words sound more like an observation than a question.
Zebual ignored her comment. "It would make me feel good to know that you were outside and enjoying yourself."
"I enjoy myself inside."
He waved her words away with a shaky hand. "I did say please."
"Yes, you did." Arysa combed her fingers through his hair, as she thought over his words and reasoning. "You know," she murmured softly. "I believe your hair likes to confuse me as much as you do. Sometimes it seems to be more white and at other times, such as now, it appears to have more black strands within it."
"I don't want to talk about my hair," he sighed heavily.
"All right, then tell me about Connor."
"Why?"
She laughed at his suspicious tone. "Because I would like to know about him."
"He was mean, violent and had the temper of the Devil."
Again she laughed, moving her hand back down to his back. "He sounds like you. Is that where you get your traits from?"
Zebual gave a low grunt and turned his head away. "When have I ever been mean, violent and showed you a temper?"
"Oh, you keep it well hidden, but it shows in your eyes."
"We're back to playing word games, I see."
She ran her hand over his hair and playfully pinched his ear lightly. "Word games and riddles and let's not forget insanity."
Zebual looked back at her. The hunger for her was growing at a rapid pace trying to consume him. "Be careful, my dear," he warned softly. "Teasing a sick man is not kind."
The gleam in his eyes had her cheeks turning warm. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Turning his head away, he murmured, "Don't be."
"Zebual?"
"Go to bed, Arysa. For some reason, I feel overly tired tonight."
Arysa scooted off the bed. She hadn't meant for her words or gesture to be considered teasing him. She was just being playful.
"Arysa?"
"Yes?" she murmured at the doorway.
"Thank you."
Without reply, she made her way to her room as quickly as she could and closed the door between them.
"Why do you make me suffer?"
"I don't," she whispered. "It's you that makes me suffer. Always you hold yourself away from me. Never letting me touch you, to see you, to hold you within my arms as I long to do."
"You make me suffer with your thoughts."
"My thoughts are of you."
"Tell me what you think of ... your thoughts of me."
She whimpered when she felt his lips against the base of her throat. Heat spiraled upward, filling her wit
h desire. "Of loving you," she panted out. "Of having you love me."
"Physical love."
"Yes and no. Physical love and eternal love."
"And do you love me?" he asked, his mouth hovering over hers, inhaling her pants of breath. "Do you love me, a man you've never seen?"
"I want to, yes," she said softly, letting him take each breathless word.
"And what happens should you find me to be a monster, a demon, a beast of a man?"
"I don't care," she whispered. "I don't care what you are."
Chapter Ten
It was a week later, a week where no dreams haunted her sleep, that Zebual took a turn for the worse. Mrs. Reed and Justin stood at the doorway to Zebual's bedroom. Mrs. Reed frantically wrung the apron tied at her waist as she watched Arysa and Zebual.
"What can I do to help?" Justin asked, stepping farther into the room.
"I don't know." Arysa tried to think of something that would lower the fever that burned through Zebual. Damn her loss of memory! If she could just remember something that might help him now she would never question her past again.
"He isn't going to ... " Mrs. Reed's words died away when Arysa turned her dark green eyes on her.
"Don't you dare think such a thing! I need to get his fever lowered ... I just wish I could remember ... "
Mrs. Reed noticed the distress in Arysa's eyes. "Cool water," she murmured. "Cool water might bring his fever down. I'll go get the bath ready."
Out of the corner of her eye, Arysa saw the older woman hurry pass toward the bathing chamber, ignoring Justin's presence, she leaned over Zebual to whisper in his ear. "You listen to me, my Sir Knight. You will not let this beat you. You will fight and I'll help you. But I alone can't do it. We have to do this together."
"Getting to be quite fierce, are you not, my dear?" he whispered out slowly.
Tears welled up in Arysa's eyes. His voice was dry and had a crackling sound to it. "Bloody damn right," she whispered.
"My fight is nearly gone."
"Then I'll fight extra hard for both of us. I'll not let this illness have you without a fight." Arysa looked over her shoulder to where Justin stood. His worried gaze bore into hers. She could tell that he wanted to help in some way, but for now she didn't trust another with the care of Zebual.
"The water is ready," Mrs. Reed announced.
"Zebual," Arysa whispered, turning back to him. "Your fever is too high, it needs to be lowered. A cool bath will not be pleasant, but there is no other choice. Mrs. Reed and Justin are going to help me."
Zebual shook his head. "No. Have them wait in the seating room."
"I'll need help."
"Nay, I will help you."
The shortness of his breath warned her not to argue with him. Instead she told Justin and Mrs. Reed to wait in the other room.
"I'll stay."
Arysa stared at Justin for a moment before turning her gaze to Zebual. She wanted him to stay. How could she help Zebual all alone? But before she could voice her fears, Zebual turned his head toward Justin. "No."
And that was that, Arysa thought watching as Justin closed the door behind him. "I wished you would have let him stay," she murmured softly. "I'll need help removing your clothing and getting you into the bath water."
"I'll help you."
Arysa kept her thoughts to herself as she unbuttoned his shirt and then undid his pants. With some effort, she got him to a half sitting position and then removed his shirt as quickly as she could so that he could lie back. His thin chest was wide and yet it looked so fragile with the bones protruding and the pale paper-thin skin that covered them. What she hadn't expected to find was the white/black hairs that covered its span. She moved on to his pants and had to take hold of her nerves. She couldn't recall ever seeing a man naked before. Reason told her that if she was Zebual's wife then most likely she had seen him naked plenty of times.
"Can you lift your hips for me," she asked, looking up into his face.
"I think we should forget this idea," he grunted and then moaned.
"Zebual, we need to do this. Granted, it might not work, but we have to try." Leaning upward, she whispered in his ear. "Please."
Again he grunted.
"Thank you," she murmured, sitting back. He raised his hips slightly and she pulled the baggy pants from his hips and down his legs. She really did try to keep her gaze away from one certain part of him, but she failed. His long legs were thin and covered with more of the white/black hairs. His narrow hips and flat belly had a thick trail of hair leading down to where his softness lay cuddled in a nest of more white/black hairs.
"Arysa, if you continue to stare at that particular part of me, I won't be responsible for its actions. I may be sick, but at the moment I don't think it cares."
Arysa jumped slightly when his sleeping member stirred to life. Her gaze shot up to clash with Zebual's. Her face felt like it was on fire and she was mortified by her reaction.
"Don't fret, my dear," he muttered. "The cold water that awaits will take care of its swelling. Let's get this done and over with."
Arysa climbed down from the bed and then helped him. The moment she slipped her arm around his naked waist she began wondering what madness had brought them to this point. She could feel the heat of his body as he leaned into her and it seemed as though his heat were shooting through him and filling her. She tried to brush the silly notion away, but still it lingered in her.
It seemed to take forever to get him into the bathing room and down into the tub. Her embarrassment fled when the shivers came over him. With a soft cloth she wet his face and neck and watched as he gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering.
Leaning close so that her face was next to his and their cheeks rubbed against one another, she softly murmured to him. "You're doing fine, Zebual. Not much longer now, I promise. Soon we'll have you back in bed and warmed beneath the heavy blankets." On and on she murmured, as his body shivered. Finally, she couldn't take seeing him in agony any longer. "Come, let's get you back into bed."
Zebual was more than ready to get out of the freezing water. Other than being a form of torture he couldn't see what use the cold water had done. He swayed unsteadily as she lightly ran a towel over his body. Then she was holding him the best she could and leading him back to his soft warm haven. This was the worst torture of all, he thought. To have her hands on his skin and to feel her clothing brush against his nakedness. It was a torture that he didn't think he could endure for long and yet he was loath for it to end.
Arysa silently sighed when she had him back in bed and covered. "If this doesn't work then Justin will have to summon some help for you."
"Nay," he muttered. "I'll be fine."
She didn't believe him. "You had better be," she whispered.
"Tell Justin and Mrs. Reed to go on to bed," he mumbled, turning on to his side.
Arysa had no more than softly called out to them when the door opened and in walked Justin with Mrs. Reed hovering just behind him. "Go on to bed. If I should need either of you, I'll come get you."
"Is he going to be all right?" Mrs. Reed asked peering around Justin.
Arysa looked down at Zebual's face. She wasn't sure, but she wouldn't voice that comment for Zebual's ears to hear. He damned well would be all right, she whispered to herself. She raised her head. "Yes, he'll be fine now," she stated with more conviction than she felt.
"I'll stay and help." Justin announced, watching the way Zebual curled up next to Arysa's outstretched legs and how he placed his arm over her as if holding her in place.
"Arysa will care for me."
"I could stay with you so that the lass can get some rest." Mrs. Reed offered.
"I'll rest in the morning." Arysa could feel her face heat at the way Mrs. Reed and Justin were watching them. "I promise should I need help I'll call loud enough so that the whole manor hears me."
Mrs. Reed nodded her head. "Good night."
Justin still hesitated and
then with a heavy sigh, he muttered, "Good night."
Zebual waited until the door closed before moving enough so that he could see Arysa's face. "You still embarrass much too quickly."
Arysa's eyes met his. "I can't seem to help it," she whispered and then cleared her throat. "Are you feeling any better?"
He wasn't, but he didn't want her to know that. "Yes."
"Zebual, I don't know what to do for you. Tell me, is there anything that you need, anything that will help you?"
"Only one thing," his voice rasped out.
Arysa smoothed her hand over his hair. "Tell me."
"You."
She didn't think that she heard him correctly. "Excuse me."
"You are what I need."
"What can I do for you?"
"Marry me, Arysa."
The movement of her hand paused.
Zebual cursed himself for being a fool. He hadn't meant to say the words, not aloud, for he knew that though she treated him kindly, she had to find him repulsive. Yet, the words had come from his lips and now he must face the consequences.
"If I'm not mistaken, you've been telling me for nearly three months that I'm already joined to you. I don't understand."
"You don't remember being married to me or of what existed between us. If you marry me now you would know that we our joined."
Arysa was silent as her thoughts churned inside her head. "Is that the only reason you wish to marry me?"
Zebual shivered. What could he say? He was making a mess of things.
"Do you love me, Zebual?"
"What kind of question is that?" he muttered out softly.
"Shouldn't people marry out of love?"
"People marry for many reasons."
"Don't banter words with me, Zebual," she sighed. "I asked a very simple question."
"Don't tell me that you're going to refuse me because you feel no love for me. I'll only remind you that we are already joined."
"Which brings us right back to the beginning and the question I asked."
"Do you love another?"
The dark shapeless figure from her dreams came to mind. A part of her was in love with her fantasy lover. But he was only a dream that haunted her sleep and nothing more. "I don't know what we had in the past, Zebual, but two people who decide to share their lives should have tender feeling toward one another."
