Crystal Moon (20 page)

beyond his injuries, and he would not burden those he cares

for.” She didn’t speak of Graham’s love for Katya. It was for

him to tell her. “Let him heal some before you offer him your

love.”

“Love!” Katya’s eyes snapped denial. “I’d as soon wake a

hibernating sardak than approach Graham again. Only a fool

would try to love that overgrown, obstinate, exasperating bear

of a man.”

Hiding her grin of understanding, Sianna said, “But then

love makes fools of us all, doesn’t it? Be patient with him as he

has been patient with you.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Katya’s lips. “Perhaps.”

“I must see to Graham’s care, but I find myself weak. Will

you help me down the stairs?”

“I will not beg at his door!”

“No one asks you to. Merely lend me your arm for a

moment.”

When Katya offered her arm, Sianna leaned on it heavily,

grateful for the support as they headed down the stairs to the

great hall. Weariness tugged at her and hunger burned at her

innards. Could she take a moment to eat?

“You are different from any healer I’ve known,” Katya

mused. “They treat only the body, but your touch goes deeper,

to a person’s heart, doesn’t it? Are you a witch?”

Sianna both heard and felt Katya’s sudden awe and niggle

of fear. “I’m but a skilled healer. Unless you would see me

dead, be careful what you say. Your people would burn me as

quickly for being a witch as they would for being DiSanti’s

daughter.”

“You are right. I should not bandy the name witch about. I

would not see you dead for what is naught but a silly superstition.

There are no witches, only that which we’ve yet to understand.”

Her tone hardened as she continued, “If you die, it will be for

Aubin’s foul murder.” At the foot of the stairs, Katya halted

abruptly and turned to face Sianna. “Then again, the lessening

of my hatred toward you smacks of spells and witchery, and

the emptiness I felt at Aubin’s death is no longer so deep or

dark. Have you touched my ka with your magic?”

“No magic. Love.” Love surely played a part in Katya’s

maturation. But while Sianna disclaimed the title of witch, she

often wondered about the source of her healing skills. The good

Sisters didn’t possess her talent, and they were the most learned

of healers. Was she blessed or cursed? And what of Kyne?

Katya snorted. “Love, indeed. I am naught but fond of

Graham. Why, he’s old enough to be my father.” She seemed

to have forgotten her tearful confessions of love when Graham

was carried into the castle. Sianna refrained from reminding

her. Soon enough, Katya and Graham would have to sort out

their relationship.

“You can try, but in the end love will not be denied. Older

he may be, but not quite so old as to be your father.”

At the door to Althea’s chamber, Katya stopped and stepped

back. “Can you manage?”

“Yes.” She touched Katya’s arm. “One last favor.”

Suspicion darkened Katya’s eyes. “What?” How quickly

the fragile truce between them ended.

“Ask Betha to prepare a tray of food for Graham and me.

He is sure to be hungry and so am I.” At that moment Sianna’s

stomach grumbled, and humor eased some of the tension from

Katya’s body. She nodded and headed toward the kitchen.

Feeling Graham’s bitterness, Sianna faced the closed door

with misgiving. He didn’t believe he would walk, and without

that belief he wouldn’t.

“Will Graham live?”

Zoa’s tearful voice drew Sianna from her worried thoughts.

She turned to look down at the child standing next to her. Tears

made pale tracks down the girl’s dirty cheeks. Where had the

child been? Judging by her crumpled, dirt-stained clothing, with

the hounds. Apparently, in the confusion of the caravan’s arrival

and Graham’s injury, Zoa had slipped away from her nurse’s

care.

“Etam says Graham will be a cripple. I called him a liar and

hit him! He tried to hit me back, but I ran and hid. Grenna

called and called, but I didn’t come out until I saw you.” She

threw her arms around Sianna’s waist.

The impact of Zoa’s small body and her tangled emotions

of fear, hope, anger and trust staggered Sianna. In an instinctive

response to Zoa’s cry for comfort, she knelt and wrapped her

arms around the child.

“Don’t let him die.” Sobs punctuated Zoa’s words.

“There now, Graham isn’t dying.” Knowing she lacked the

strength, she resisted the urge to offer more than a physical

soothing and merely stroked Zoa’s back.

“Make him walk again,” Zoa demanded and pulled away.

“You healed me. Make him better.”

“How do you know I healed you?” Shocked, Sianna didn’t

deny Zoa’s pronouncement. Other than Kyne, no one was ever

aware of her when she touched their emotions or performed a

healing.

Zoa shrugged. “I tingled funny when you touched me, and

then I breathed better.”

With the simple logic of a child, Zoa easily made the

connection between her own restored health and Sianna’s touch.

Could she show Graham the same? If she revealed her skill,

would he believe and welcome her touch, or cringe in fear of

what he didn’t understand and denounce her as a witch?

Not for the first time, she bemoaned the fact that her

connection with people’s emotions did not give her insight into

their thought processes or knowledge of how they would react.

Like a fallen leaf on the water, she merely rode the stream of

their emotions, unable to change or direct the flow. Only when

she attempted a spiritual healing could she channel a person’s

emotional energy, but such healing took a psychic toll greater

than for healing the body, and even then she couldn’t read the

thoughts behind the emotions.

“Zoa, you little scamp.” Grenna threaded her way around

the infirmary’s pallets to their side. “I’ve been looking

everywhere for you.” She tsked and shook her head. “Just

look at you. Have you been rolling in the mud with the shoats?

Come along now. It’s time you were bathed and put to bed,

young lady.”

“Don’t wanna.” Zoa’s lower lip pouted out, and she clung

to Sianna. “Wanna see Graham.”

Sianna gently eased the child away and raised her face.

“You can’t see Graham just yet. He’s still very sick, but I

promise he’ll get better.” Another promise made. One only

Graham could keep. “Go along now with Grenna. Maybe

tomorrow you can visit Graham.”

Hope sparked in Zoa’s dark eyes. “Really?” Without

waiting for an answer, she slid from Sianna’s embrace and

grabbed Grenna’s hand.

Arms empty, Sianna watched the child skip away.

“Really?”

At Kyne’s voice from behind her, Sianna rose slowly to

turn and face him. From a face carved of crystal, without a hint

of warmth or compassion, his eyes stared at her as if their

connection had never been—as if they had never made love.

She reached out to him empathetically, but felt nothing. Pain

staggered her as unacknowledged dreams died in her heart.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I’ve come to see my patient. His dressings need changing,

and I would check for fever and infection.” Struggling against

her need to flee from Kyne’s icy composure, she took a step

toward the door. He barred her way with an outstretched arm.

Unable to read his emotions, she couldn’t interpret the stiff set

of his broad shoulders or the rigid press of his lips. Did he hate

her for being her father’s daughter, or for the lies he now knew

she told?

“Graham has no further need of you. Althea can see to the

rest of his care.”

“You’re wrong. Graham needs me even more now. Haven’t

I proven myself to you? Please let me see to him.” She couldn’t

keep the pleading note from her voice.

“Your actions do not change the fact you are DiSanti’s

daughter.” His expressionless gaze settled on her face then

moved lower and studied her. “Or are you?”

Memories of his hands and mouth on the same flesh that

his eyes now touched flooded through her. Her nipples beaded

against her soft shift material, and moisture gathered at the

juncture of her thighs. A wave of heat brought the pungent

scent of sex to her nostrils. Warmth blossomed in her belly

while her tongue froze in her mouth.

She hadn’t considered what her virginity would mean to

Kyne. His belief that Laila had lain with Aubin and might carry

his child now made him question her identity.

Could she lie yet again? Deny her relationship with her

father? What of Laila? Guilt and fear made her drop her gaze.

“I am his daughter,” she whispered.

A twinge of what felt like distress touched her, but it

disappeared before she could confirm it.

“See to your patient.”

Relief surged through her. She swayed, catching his arm to

maintain her balance. Beneath her fingers he felt warm and

solid. A sudden longing to rest in his embrace caught her off

guard. Stiffening her resolve, she thrust aside her hopeless

feelings for Rul Cathor. He could be nothing to her or for her,

but Graham needed her.

“Are you strong enough?” Reluctant concern threaded

Kyne’s words but revealed nothing of his true feelings.

Unable to speak for the emotion clogging her throat, she

nodded.

“You may have saved his life, but he’ll not thank you for

it,” Kyne cautioned.

“I don’t seek his gratitude, only his rehabilitation.”

“Will he walk? Althea thinks not.”

“Graham’s recovery will not be easy or painless, but if he’s

determined enough he should regain almost complete mobility.

I’ve done what I can. The rest is up to him.”

“See to him.” Kyne stepped away from her, and her fingers

slid off his arm. “After you finish with Graham, we will speak

in my chamber.” He turned and strode away.

Dread lodged in Sianna’s heart. Of what would they speak?

Her virginity? Or rather the recent loss of it? Her true identity?

What answers could she give to his questions that would not

endanger her sister?

“Milady? Are you well?”

Sianna pushed aside her worry and turned to meet Betha’s

troubled gaze. “I’m fine.”

Tantalizing aromas of fresh bread, roasted shoat, and spiced

fruit drifted up from the loaded tray the plump little woman

carried. Sianna smiled and buried her apprehension in a dark

corner of her mind. “More than fine if this tray is for me. It

smells wonderful.”

“For you and Graham,” Betha said. “Katya asked me to

prepare it for you. Open the door for me, please.”

“Stay, Warda.” The beast snuffed in protest, but settled

just outside the door. Sianna opened the door and stood aside

for Betha to enter the small chamber.

“Get out,” Graham bellowed. “I said I wanted no visitors!”

Betha quaked and would have dropped the tray in fright if

Sianna hadn’t reached out and taken it from her shaking hands.

“I’ll take it from here. Close the door behind you, Betha. No

need for the rest of the castle to hear Graham’s tantrums.”

With a quick, grateful nod Betha scurried away. The soft

click of the door sounded loud in the silence following Graham’s

outburst.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself. You scared the poor

woman with your ill-natured roaring.” As she scolded, Sianna

busied herself arranging the tray across Graham’s lap, careful

not to put any weight on his injured thigh.

Graham didn’t answer. She sensed the conflicting emotions

chasing through him—relief and regret. Arms over his bare

chest, he glared at her. Anger simmered in the small chamber.

Pale and drawn, he still possessed a powerful and unpredictable

temper. She steadied the tray and prayed he wouldn’t toss it

away. Though concerned for her patient’s well-being, her mouth

began to water in anticipation of food.

“Eat, then I’ll check your dressings.” She held out a knife

and fork. When he didn’t take them from her, she picked up his

hand and closed his fingers around the utensils.

“I’m not hungry,” he pouted.

She took note of the way Graham’s nose twitched at the

smell rising from the cloth-covered tray and how he licked his

lips. “Of course you’re not, but now that Betha has gone to the

trouble of preparing this tray, it would be sinful to waste food.

If you don’t mind, I’ll join you. I’m starved.” She sat on the

chair next to the bed and lifted the cloth.

As she helped herself to the meal, Sianna felt the battle

raging inside Graham. His strong survival instinct commanded

him to eat and live, no matter what, but his stubborn male pride

demanded he live as a whole man or not at all. His internal

struggle played havoc with her already delicate stomach. Finally,

she stabbed a piece of meat and held it to his compressed lips.

“Eat.”

With obvious reluctance, yet undeniable eagerness, he

accepted the morsel and ate. Only when the tray was nearly

empty did he lower his fork and look at her.