Love's Beguiling Healer

by Angela Verdenius

  "And I'm looking forward to hearing his views.” Denyon slid his arm around his little cousin's shoulders and tucked her into his side. “Does he have concerns about Lysie?"

  "Excuse me.” Disgruntled, Lysie pulled away from him and stepped back. Tilting her head back, she glared up at him. “Ask me, not him. I'm not to be ignored."

  "Hard to do,” Illam muttered.

  "I'm not the runt back on Scytha,” she retorted sharply. “If that's how you're going to treat me here, you can get your arses back on that ship and fly."

  Marten was openly grinning. Proudly. The other two bodyguards—Wylin and Eulie—were trying to control their amusement. Kiile raised one brow and waited for Denyon's answer.

  Lysie had always had a sharp tongue on her. It was one of the reasons why, as a young runt allowed to run wild, she'd always been in trouble. Time hadn't changed that, Illam saw. Amused, he looked at Denyon.

  "Apologies,” Denyon said. “Has Sarcan got any concerns about your condition, Lysie?"

  Time, however, had changed his friend. Once he would have given Lysie a tongue lashing for being rude. But now she was a grown Felys. And time had changed for them all since Lysie had fled the Lypeople Council and been captured by the Argons. Now this sensual race were the allies of the Felys. Powerful allies with powerful connections, and their healers amongst the best. They might hold the answer to the dangers facing his own race, the Felys.

  "Sarcan says I'm fine. Tera runs tests on me every week to check my progress, and the kits are healthy.” Lysie added snidely, “And they're not runts, by the looks of it."

  Denyon looked pained.

  "They'd be welcome even if they were.” Marten slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently against him.

  "Speaking of which,” Kiile smoothly took over the conversation, “Sarcan will be meeting with us this afternoon. Today you and your crew are welcome to rest and enjoy our home. You'll be shown to your rooms, then feel free to wander around. If you want anything, simply ask one of the servants."

  "Thank you.” Denyon nodded. “Lysie, I brought a few things with me from Mother. I'll off-load them later for you."

  "From Aunt?” Lysie raised her brows.

  "She couldn't come and see you, but she wanted to send some things for the kits when they come. Just to get you started.” Denyon smiled. “She hopes to be here when they're born."

  "By Delcat!"

  Illam's lips twitched as he held back a burst of laughter. Knowing Denyon's mother, he couldn't help but sympathize with Lysie.

  Denyon sighed and shook his head at Marten. “You haven't trained her, I see."

  "You can't train something that's already perfect,” Marten replied straight-faced.

  Lysie purred and rubbed her head against Marten's chest.

  Kiile gestured towards the palace, and they started across the docking bay towards it.

  "And where is your wife?” Denyon asked conversationally.

  "She's off somewhere, giving my mother forty fits,” Kiile replied. “She delights in baiting her."

  "Ah, no wonder she and Lysie hit it off so well.” Denyon shook his head.

  Lysie sent him a rude gesture, and Denyon sighed.

  Illam studied his surroundings as they continued towards the palace. The docking bay held an assortment of fleet craft and travel ships, including a huge ship in the far corner. Suddenly he noticed the men moving around the ramp of the huge ship. They were giants who towered over the Argon men assisting them in off-loading cargo. Loud, bawdy, and laughing, the traders had their long, shaggy hair pulled back in rough ponytails, except for a couple who had bandannas around their foreheads, which kept their hair off their faces. Muscles bulged in their arms, and rippled in their torsos. The open, sleeveless vests and tight pants they wore showed their bodies off to perfection. Small silver hoops winked in their left ear lobes.

  "Daamen traders,” Marten said from beside him. “That is Simon's crew."

  "I've heard of them,” Illam replied. “I haven't met any, though."

  "They're good friends."

  A sudden feminine shout caught Illam's attention, as well as the attention of the traders. What caught his attention even more was the sight of a tall, slim figure dressed in an elegant blue gown, dashing most inelegantly across the docking bay and throwing herself into the arms of a swarthy trader.

  The big Daamen swung her around and gave her a resounding kiss on the lips, before passing her onto another trader.

  Tera, the apprentice healer and the thorn in Illam's side, was being passed around like a child amongst adults. Kissed, hugged, and teased, and the female didn't mind a bit, squealing and laughing, and By Delcat! The female had pinched one of the traders on his backside! The bearded trader retaliated by swinging her up into his arms and carting her off into the depths of the cargo hold. Her shrieks of laughter almost grated on Illam's ears, and he actually twitched them in irritation.

  Hussy!

  Eulie, one of the other bodyguards, grinned. “Tera loves her traders."

  "I'm sure she does,” Illam said in disgust.

  The Argons all glanced at him, Eulie and Wylin frowning.

  "Obviously good friends,” Denyon said hastily.

  "Obviously,” Illam agreed, just managing to take the bite from his tone. He was here as a visitor, and whatever the loose Argon female did wasn't his problem.

  Hussy!

  Lysie whispered something to Marten, who grinned a little. Eulie and Wylin continued to look warily at Illam.

  "Tera is one of our most respected healer apprentices,” Kiile said calmly, but there was a strong thread of steel in his tone.

  "Of course.” Illam inclined his head. “No disrespect meant."

  But she could at least not have made such a spectacle of herself! Still, what else can one expect, when she is so rude anyway?

  Denyon gave a low growl beside him. It was low enough that the Argons wouldn't hear, but both Illam and Lysie were able to hear his warning, their feline hearing picking up the growl easily. Lysie smirked at Illam, and he rolled his eyes mentally.

  "You'll have a chance to meet the Daamens later,” Kiile informed Denyon and Illam. “They'll be here for a night or two before leaving for Daamen."

  That'll keep Tera more than happy. Illam caught sight of several more young Argon females giggling and casting glances towards the docking bay. And a few others, by Jocat.

  The rooms they were taken to were luxurious, the beds big and soft, the furniture dark wood and polished to a shine, the cushions inviting, and the carpets rich and deep. Combined with the fragrance of the flowers outside the windows, it was enough to make him want to lie down on the carpet and roll across the rich fabric. He would have done, if he was a Felys kit. Instead, he crossed to the window and looked out at the gardens beyond, admiring the view.

  The day passed quickly, while Illam reacquainted himself with the palace that he'd only visited once before, a fleeting visit for the wedding of Denyon's little cousin to the Argon bodyguard.

  Striding down the corridor, he spotted Tera coming towards him from the opposite end. Her thick brunette hair had come loose from its intricate braiding, and lay in thick waves across her shoulders and down her back. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with laughter. Beside her walked her younger sister, Hanna. She, too, was laughing.

  As they neared Illam, he inclined his head slightly at them.

  "Are you settled in?” Hanna asked.

  "Thank you, yes.” Illam slid his gaze across Tera. “Have fun meeting your friends?"

  "Yes.” Tera smiled. “They're a lot of fun."

  "I bet.” The words came out before he knew it. Shit!

  The smile fled Tera's lips, and she raised her chin. “What do you mean?"

  "Nothing."

  "No. No, you meant something.” Her arms folded beneath her breasts, pushing the tempting mounds up against the soft fabric of her bodice.

  Tempting mounds? Hidden by the fa
ll of his hair, Illam's ears twitched in interest. Manfully, he kept his gaze on her face. “I'm sorry. Did I offend you?"

  "I think the question should be, did I offend you?"

  It might not be too late to salvage what promised to be an awkward situation. “My women don't—"

  "Your women?” Both elegant, dark brows lifted in sarcasm.

  "My clan women,” Illam corrected her. “They don't throw themselves at a group of men."

  "Throw themselves?” The elegant dark brows were now drawn into a frown. “I didn't throw myself at my friends."

  He couldn't stop the look of disbelief from showing on his face.

  Tera's frown turned into a scowl. “I was greeting some very dear friends, Felys."

  "Very enthusiastically."

  "More bloody enthusiastically than I did you—"

  "You didn't greet us at all."

  "Not my loss.” Her eyes narrowed. “I'd rather—"

  "We must go,” Hanna interrupted quickly, grabbing her sister's upper arm. “We'll see you at the evening meal, Illam."

  "I haven't finished—” Tera began.

  "Oh, you have.” Hanna started to drag her past Illam.

  Tera gave Illam an angry look, then tossed her head suddenly and dismissed him. Rudely.

  By Delcat, that female is a nasty piece. Illam found himself grinding his teeth, and let out an annoyed hiss. Why he always got so uptight around Tera, he'd never know. She'd rubbed him up the wrong way almost from the moment they'd met over the viscomm. For some reason, just seeing her made him feel as ruffled as if someone had tousled his hair the wrong way.

  And she obviously returned the sentiments.

  Rounding the corner of the corridor, he met Eulie and Denyon.

  "I'm going to unload that crate for Lysie,” Denyon informed him. “Then I'm going to show Kiile some of our swords. Seems he has quite a collection himself. Coming?"

  "Sure.” If nothing else, it would soothe his ruffled hair.

  * * * *

  Muttering to herself, Tera stood on tiptoe, reached upward, and placed the glass jar on the shelf beside the others. Easing back down onto her heels, she looked up to check that the label could be seen clearly.

  No problems there. The label was easily read.

  Scowling, Tera plucked another jar from the table and turned back to the shelves. This jar needed to be placed higher up, but if she had her way, it would be cracked smartly over the head of an irritating visitor.

  "Ingrate.” Hooking her foot around the stool, she yanked it closer. “Imbecile.” Gathering the long skirt of her gown in one hand, she placed her slippered foot on the stool seat and pushed upward. Straightening, she swept her narrowed gaze over the rows of jars. “Jerk."

  "Ah, I take it you're still annoyed at a certain Felys male?"

  Tera cast her sister a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder. “How'd you guess?"

  "The insults coming from this room were a dead giveaway.” Eyes twinkling, Hanna looked up at her. “So, what did he do now?"

  "He's breathing."

  "Oh, bad thing. Very bad."

  "Ha-ha."

  "Oh, come on, Tera. Surely he's not that annoying?” Leaning back against the table, Hanna was more than obviously enjoying herself.

  "An insect buzzing around your ear is annoying. A yapping hound is annoying. A whining child is annoying. Illam is a pain in the proverbial.” Tera put the jar down on the shelf with more force than necessary. “He's so holier-than-thou and disapproving of everything he sees here."

  "I haven't heard him whine about anything."

  "Not verbally. He doesn't have to do it verbally."

  "So how does he do it?"

  "He looks. He rolls his eyes.” Tera did a good imitation of the irritating man's actions.

  "Oh, very well done.” Laughing, Hanna applauded her sister.

  Tera flung out her arms. “The man's a walking windbag!"

  "The single wenches of the palace find him and his kind very attractive, you know."

  "Good. Wonderful. Can't you get someone to take Illam away and shag him senseless?"

  "What would that accomplish?"

  "We could stuff him back on his ship and send him home before he comes to."

  Folding her arms, Hanna studied her sister quizzically. “Why do you have such a dislike for him?"

  "He disapproves of anyone not of his race.” And that seems to really include me. “And I also can't stand people who go around with a chip on their shoulder the whole time. He needs to learn to get over things."

  "His kind have a history of being sex slaves, and that little more than over one hundred and fifty years ago,” Hanna pointed out. “He's bound to have reservations about things."

  "You'd think he was a slave now, the way he carries on.” Tera stuck out her hand. “Give me another jar. Please."

  Picking up a jar, Hanna crossed the room and placed it into her sister's outstretched hand. “Nearly finished?"

  "In a while. I've still got some more unpacking to do. I promised Father I'd get these herbs all stacked."

  "Well, I'd love to stay and help, but I'm going to check on some of Father's patients. He gave me a list.” Hanna dipped a hand into the pocket of her pink gown and took out a small sheet of paper. “A broken leg that was reset, a fever, a pregnant patient, and some others. All checks."

  "Where's Father?"

  "He's miles away, attending to some young trainees in another settlement."

  "Should have guessed.” Tera laughed. “I'll see you at the evening meal, then?"

  "Surely will.” Giving a cheerful wave, Hanna turned on her heel and left the room.

  Jumping down from the stool, Tera kicked it along the floor a little way, and then recommenced putting jars on the shelves. She became quite preoccupied with them, sorting them properly so that every healing herb was in the correct order. She knew them all by heart, being not only the daughter of the Argon leader's healer, but also his apprentice healer, as was her sister. She was well-skilled in the healing arts, but knew there was so much more to learn.

  But she liked it, tending to the sick and watching them get better. Even the dying didn't particularly faze her. It was another part of the life cycle. If she could offer comfort, that was her aim in that phase of life. And if the dying happened to be young ... well, she hated that part, but it was her duty to offer comfort and see them on their way to the next life. No one had to know that she cried about it sometimes.

  Humming softly under her breath, she allowed the familiar smell of herbs to relax her, and the familiarity of the medical quarters and her job was soothing. In the background, music played softly. Peace filled her.

  It only lasted until her scalp prickled. Freezing momentarily, she stared at the jars.

  Surely that imbecile isn't here? He must be. His presence is so loathsome, I can feel my nerves tingling!

  Slowly she turned her head, and looked over one shoulder. The room was deserted. Relief swept through her, and she returned her attention to the shelf. You really need to get a grip on yourself, Tera! Great burning suns, wench! Shaking her head, she stretched out her arm and pulled a jar from the back of the shelf to the front.

  "I find myself in need of your abilities,” a deep voice said from behind her.

  Closing her eyes, Tera mentally cursed. It's him.

  "Healer?” The imperious voice came again, accompanied by the sound of boot heels on the gleaming tiled floor. “I need your attendance."

  "'I need your attendance',” Tera muttered under her breath. “Great balls of fire!"

  "Pardon?” The deep voice was unnervingly close.

  Tera wondered how he'd managed to cross the room so quickly. She didn't have to wonder how close he was, for her internal radar was going off with an intensity that made her shift uncomfortably.

  Looking over her shoulder, she scowled down at the man standing not far from her.

  Round eyes, yet slanted at the corners, gazed straight back
at her, the vertical pupils dilating. Thin black threads moved slowly through his golden irises, making a living dance that was disconcerting. The man's face was strong, high cheekbones, strong jaw line, and a straight nose that was broad enough to look feline, but not broad enough to detract from his brooding, good looks. His hair was caught back in a braid that Tera knew hung down his back almost to his waist. His hair fascinated her. Pure white, with thick bands of deep, chocolate brown at the front and sides, and streaks of gold and brown throughout the rest. The chocolate brown was the reason she'd labeled him chocolate point Felys when she first saw him—a fact that had annoyed him no end. His pointed ears were revealed by his hairstyle.

  Her gaze drifted unbidden over him. Tall and lean, yet his stance proclaimed hidden, unleashed power, and she knew the trim white uniform he wore lay over lean muscle, honed to perfection. She'd felt the power when her hand had rested on his arm when he'd escorted her with icy politeness to the main table during the wedding of Marten and Lysie. She'd felt the flex of his hard muscle beneath her palm.

  The Felys male wore his white uniform with an air of suffering the entrapments of civility. He was like a big lycat transformed into a person, yet keeping his feral background. Even his mouth held a feral curl at one corner, as though laughing at her—or disgusted. Tera suspected it was disgust.

  No, not a lycat. A Felys. A feline-like species with characteristics of the lycats. Only more feral, some said. Definitely this one was, she was sure.

  She really must study the Felys type a little more.

  "Finished looking?” Illam asked, his own gaze sweeping over her almost insolently.

  Stung by his tone, Tera jumped down from the stool and replied sharply, “What do you want?"

  His mouth tightened, those oh-so-gorgeous-kiss-me-long-and-deep lips clamping together.

  Oh-so-gorgeous-kiss-me-long-and-deep lips? Where did that come from?

  Annoyed by the thought, Tera crossed to the table, leaned one hand on it and tapped her fingernails impatiently. “Come on, I don't have all day."

  "I can see this was a mistake.” Illam scowled. “I should never have listened to Marten."

  "Took you long enough to learn that."

  Swinging on his heel, he started from the room, his boot heels ringing on the floor.