by Glenda Diana
"Well?"
"No," he grunted and turned away.
Arysa let her imagination take form ... in her mind she saw a small baby lying upon the clean sheets. His small body curled up, his dark head nestled against the soft material as his little mouth suckled at his fist in a greedy fashion. A tender ached formed in her breast.
"Arysa?"
"Yes," she whispered, tearing herself away from her thoughts. She backed away from the bed and then turned to meet Zebual's gaze. Lowering her eyes, she moved over to him and again placed her arm around his waist. "Let's get you downstairs so you can rest."
He wanted to say something, anything, but what?
"Why ... why did you not have children?"
He nearly stumbled as her question hit him like a blow to his mid-section.
"Don't faint on me," she muttered, trying to hold on to him. "I was just curious."
"Perhaps there wasn't time ... before my sickness worsened."
There was more she wanted to ask, but she didn't. "Here we are. Now let's take the steps slowly so neither of us break our necks."
"Excellent idea."
She laughed at his dry tone. "Stand here while I lock the door."
He'd stand wherever she wanted him to, Zebual decided when she placed her hand against his chest. He quickly looked away before she turned back to him.
"I wished you would have waited in your room for me. You should be resting."
"How can I rest when you won't let me?" he grumbled. "I believe you're supposed to be seeing to my care."
As they reached the second floor, she looked up at him and smiled. "You're right. I promise to do a better job."
"I was only jesting. I have no complaints as long as you don't mind me ogling you from time to time. At least you don't seem frightened of me today."
Slowly, they made their way down the hallway toward his room. With an impish smile, she looked up at him to give him a sassy reply and then nearly stumbled at the sight of the red haze in his eyes. "I wasn't frightened of you," she managed to mumble.
"Watch your step." Zebual knew it was pointless to try to catch her, but he managed to tighten his arm around her slightly. "Okay, perhaps frightened isn't the right word. Shall we use repulse?"
"You do not repulse me. And I think that its most unfair for you to supply me with feeling and thoughts as to what you think they should be instead of my true thoughts and feelings."
Zebual tried to make heads or tales of her words and then laughed. "I'll have you know that you didn't make the slightest bit of sense on that."
"Maybe not, but you know exactly what I meant." Arysa smiled at the sound of his rough laughter. "You should do more of that ... perhaps that's the missing substance in your body?"
"I doubt it, my dear. But if you think it might help then it will be part of your duties as my caregiver to make me laugh. I warn you now, I very seldom find humor in this existence."
"Not true," she replied, with a smile. "I've heard you laugh twice in less than ten minutes."
"Then you are doing a fine job already."
Again she laughed, as she assisted him over to the settee. "Let me fix you a plate. I think you definitely need more food ... good food that will help fill you up and out."
Zebual looked at the array of food and felt his stomach quiver in revulsion. He knew that in part she was right, but food did not in most cases agree with him. In fact, he was lucky if he could keep it upon his stomach longer than a few minutes. What he needed most of all had nothing to do with food or rest. He glanced up at Arysa and felt the small life inside him shimmer and vibrate.
Throughout the meal, Arysa watched the way Zebual pushed his food around his plate. Three bites were all he had taken. His body was shrinking from lack of food.
"Play a game of chess with me, Arysa."
"You didn't eat."
His light blue eyes met hers. "I ate all that my stomach can hold."
"But your body needs more than three tiny bites."
"Maybe in time," he murmured, pushing the plate away.
"In time ... you'll be dead." Arysa copied him by pushing her plate away. "If you're not going to eat then neither am I."
She was trying to bait him, but he wasn't falling for the lure. Instead, he smiled. "That would be a pure shame, Arysa. To alter your body in anyway would be an act most unkind. Many of your fine qualities I have admired. But from the first time that we had set eyes on one another I have admired your shapely figure."
Heat began rising from her neck up to her cheeks. "We're getting along fine, so let's not tread on dangerous ground tonight. It will only lead to an argument between us."
With a grunt, Zebual closed his eyes. "I hear tell that you were asking questions today." At first he thought she hadn't heard him, but the slamming of the dishes let him know that his comment had angered her. "Please don't break the dishes. I've had them for a very long time."
"Has the household been tattling on me?" Arysa grounded out her words. Pushing the cart outside in the hallway, she slammed the door closed. Blasted tattle-tales, she muttered crossing the room and grabbing up the chessboard and pieces.
"They weren't tattling. They thought perhaps I should answer your questions."
"As if you would," she grumbled, sitting down beside him. "They make me think that it's wrong to ask questions about my own past. You know, it's perfectly normal for a person to ask the questions I was asking. I would say that there was definitely something wrong with my mind if I didn't ask or wasn't curious."
"I agree. Mrs. Reed and the rest of the staff have been told not to speak of your past."
Arysa slammed down the board and turned to face him. "By you, right?"
"Yes," Zebual answered softly, as he raised his head.
Well at least he was being honest about it, but that still didn't stop her temper from boiling further. "Why?"
"I wanted to see if your memory would return on its own. It's better for you to remember without anyone's aid or their views and opinions on facts."
"And what if I never remember?"
Zebual didn't want to think about that. It was a question he had asked himself too many times in the darkness of his mind. "You will," he mumbled.
"How good of you to reassure me."
"I thought you wanted to bypass the arguing for tonight?"
Arysa fumed silently, but held her tongue.
"I have lived or as you put it 'hidden' in the darkness for many years." Zebual gave a weary sigh as he leaned forward to see the chessboard. "The light of day hurts my eyes and weakens me more. I hope that one day I can actually see the sunrise again, but for now I'll remain a person of night."
He watched as she made her first move. "Would you like to know what caused your memory loss?" he asked when she finished.
Arysa's gaze met his. He looked exhausted. Her heart went out to him. He needed what arrogance he had, she suddenly realized. It was one of the elements that were keeping him going, keeping him alive. "Only if you want to tell me."
"I would rather have you remember on your own, but if you so desire I will."
He was right, she needed to remember. What good would it do for him to tell her? There was a chance that it would bring back some fragment of her past, but there was also a chance that it would only make her feel more confused and disturbed. "No," she mumbled with a shake of her head.
Zebual nodded and sighed. He wasn't sure if the feeling he was experiencing came from relief or apprehension. If he told her, he could be putting both their lives at risk and he had come too far to jeopardize what little progress he had made.
"I'll make you a solemn promise, if you do not remember soon then I will tell you. Does that make you feel better?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"There is no need to thank me, Arysa. Is there anything else you would like to ask me?"
"As if I would get an answer," she mumbled. "You could tell me about my dislike of Justin."
"You do not dis
like Justin."
"I don't know," Arysa murmured, as he executed his move upon the chessboard. "I wouldn't say that. I tried talking with him today and found him to be a most dislikable fellow."
"He does have his moments." Zebual gave a twitching smile. "What was it you found dislikable about him?"
Arysa moved her next piece before answering. "He reminded me of you ... rude and arrogant."
"Not a very flattering thing to say. Shame on you, Arysa"
"I didn't mean it to be a rude statement," she laughed. "I was just stating the truth. And don't you dare tell me that I'm arrogant and rude."
"And let's not forget about your temper."
"Alright, so I do have a temper ... a small one." A wide smile came to her lips. "As to Justin, he is not the most friendly of men."
Zebual waited for her to make her move. "Justin is overprotective of me. We have been friends for a very long time. But I'll have you know that he holds you in high esteem. He had his doubts about you when first we met, but you laid his fears to rest the moment he met you. He took you to his heart and welcomed you to our small family."
"I find that hard to believe also," she murmured. "He watches me as if he's waiting for me to commit some vile crime."
"He means no harm." Zebual reassured her softly. "I believe he is unsure of his ground around you at this time. Fearing that he might say something that will do more damage to you regaining your memory than aiding it."
Arysa thought it over for a moment and then nodded. "I will try to be nicer to him."
"Don't do that." Zebual laughed. "He won't know how to take it if you are nice to him."
With a soft laugh, Arysa touched his hand. "I see you're making reference to my very small temper again."
Zebual pulled his hand free, as he avoided looking into her eyes. Damn, she didn't understand what a torture it was for her to touch him in such an innocent way. "Check mate," he said, leaning back against the settee.
Arysa looked at her hand and tried to ignore the sudden hurt that filled her. She focused on the board and then realized what it was he said. "Most unfair, Zebual. You had me talking instead of paying attention to the game."
"I always beat you at chess."
"Hmmm, I'll have to think that statement over before making further comment."
"Wise, my dear, very wise."
"Do you wish to play another game? It's still early."
"No. I believe I've had enough for one night. I'll see you tomorrow."
Arysa helped him to his feet. She hesitated for a moment and then slid her arm around his narrow waist and helped him to his room. Again she removed his shoes and then fluffed the pillows behind him. "Is there anything I can get you before I retire for the night?"'
"My brandy decanter would be nice," he grunted, moving back against the pillows.
"You didn't eat ... "
Zebual cut in. "Please."
Arysa nodded and went to retrieve it. Picking up the fullest decanter, she grabbed a glass and retraced her steps back to his room. "Here."
"Don't be disappointed in me, my dear. The brandy dulls the pain."
"I'm sorry, Zebual. I wish there was something I could do for you."
The sincerity of her words pierced his heart. The words, 'In time', rang through his mind and danced upon his tongue but he forced them back. "That's very kind of you, Arysa. Reach into the top drawer of my nightstand."
Arysa did as he asked and found herself staring down at a small book.
"That's the journal. You have showed me enough of your sweet side. Take the book."
"I don't understand," she whispered reaching out to touch the book that could open the door to her memory.
"I would rather have you be rude and obnoxious toward me, than have you show me a side of you that's only a pretense. Your desire for the book is stronger than my desire to have you as you once were. Your kindness is more painful than my dying."
She picked up the book and held it to her chest. It took her a moment to understand his meaning. He thought the only reason she was being kind to him was because of the book. Wasn't it, she asked herself? No, not exactly. In the past few days she had found that she liked his company and that her concern for his health was sincere.
"Zebual?"
"Good night, Arysa."
She wanted to tell him that he was judging her wrongly, but he had turned his head away. Even if she tried, he would only ignore her words. "Good night, Zebual."
Chapter Seven
"When the time comes you will be mine."
"I am already yours," she whispered, trying to see through the darkness.
"Nay, not yet."
"What else can you take from me?"
His soft laugh rumbled against her ear, as his strong hands held hers out to the side. "I have taken nothing ... yet."
"I don't understand."
"I have made you feel. I have made you experience passion. And I have filled your dreams. But for me, I have taken nothing." He moved over her, pressing his weight against her. "Soon ... I will not restrain my hunger."
"Are you paying attention to me?"
Arysa pulled her thoughts back from her dreams. For the past two weeks the dreams had seemed to linger more in her mind than before. The mystic man that haunted her sleep seemed determined to wreak havoc on her wakeful hours as well as in her dream world. Several times she wondered if it was the journal that seemed to bring the dreams to a more vivid image.
"I'm sorry, Zebual. What was it you said?"
Zebual watched her closely. It was obvious that her mind was wandering off into unknown areas. "I asked you if you were going to serve the food or just stare at it all night."
With a half smile, she fixed him a plate. "I was just thinking," she murmured, as a light blush warmed her cheeks.
"About your dreams?"
"Pardon me?" she whispered, nearly dropping his plate.
"The dreams," he said, taking the plate from her shaking hands. "I can hear you most every night when you leave here. If you remember I asked you about them several times. What are the dreams about?"
Embarrassment threatened to overtake her as the images danced through her mind yet again. Well, she certainly wasn't going to tell him what she dreamed about. "They're nothing ... just nightmares."
Zebual raised a brow at that. Her dreams were anything but nightmares. He liked watching her as she slept ... her moans drifting through the room as her body moved upon her bed. She was the most erotic woman he had ever known and had ever loved.
Arysa took a bite of her food. She was not going to think about the dreams again. Her gaze moved over to Zebual. Though his health wasn't improving by much, she could still see a slight difference in him. He was much too thin, but then he never took more than a few bites of his food each night. There was something about him that seemed stronger and his eyes had a sparkle to them and his lips twitched in smiles much more often.
"You're staring."
"Yes, I am. How does it feel?" Arysa laughed at the expression of surprise that came to his face. "I was just thinking that you look well tonight."
Zebual grunted and then smiled. "How is your reading coming along?"
"I'm almost finished with the journal. It reads sort of strange. If this woman was my grandmother I have to wonder about her mental state."
Zebual took a sip of his brandy. "Why?"
She gave a slight shrug as she poked at the food upon her plate. "Just a feeling I get while reading it. At times it makes me think that it was written in another time and then there are pages that sound so strange that I wonder if she were some kind of fortune teller spinning tales of the far off future. Was she perhaps one gifted with foresight?"
"I couldn't say," Zebual murmured, taking another sip.
"Couldn't or won't?"
"Let me rephrase that. What I mean is that you knew her better than I. I never had the pleasure of actually meeting your grandmother. I did however have the pleasure of listening to yo
u read it to me and I have taken the liberty of reading it for myself. I can only give you the impression I received from it. I think the woman was quite brilliant, kind and a very loving grandmother."
"On that I agree." Arysa sat back in her chair, her hands restlessly folding and unfolding her napkin. "Zebual, if she was my grandmother, why did she raise me in seclusion? From what the book says, I was always in her company. She even went as far as to bring tutors in to teach me so that I wouldn't have to leave her home."
"She was overprotective of you. She feared losing you as she did her only daughter. Having you close at hand was her way of shielding you, of holding on to you."
"Then she talks of leaving," Arysa murmured softly. "She never mentions why she was leaving, so I assume it was her way of phrasing that she was in truth dying. Still, you can almost feel her fear and pain at the very thought of leaving me."
Zebual reached out and touched her hand. "You are her grandchild. She loved you with all that she had. She raised you to be the person you are and never forget, whether you want to believe in who you are or not, she was proud of the woman you grew to be."
Turning her hand over, Arysa entwined her fingers with his. "It's probably all true," she whispered. "She was daft and so am I. I wonder if I'm slowly losing my mind or if in truth I ever had one to lose."
Zebual looked at her youthful hand with its smooth skin against his and felt his stomach cringe at the sight. His hand was nothing more than a skeleton paw with a fine layer of skin covering the bones and veins. "You have a fine mind," he replied, pulling his hand free.
Arysa stared at her hand. This was the second time he had pulled away from her touch and again she found herself filled with hurt. She told herself he wasn't really rejecting her, but that didn't stop it from hurting. He hated for her to look at him, to touch him and at times for her to be in the very room with him.
"I'm going to retire now. It's still early enough perhaps you can finish your reading tonight."