Goddess Born (17 page)

“I think so.” I wiggled it the best I could, though its usual range was severely limited.

“It’s been sprained and is beginning to swell, but there are no broken bones so far as I can tell.” Having made an official diagnosis, he set to tending my wounds accordingly, asking me to pass the necessary items.

My toe felt much better under his care, the throbbing turned into more of a dull ache, and I began to relax as he rubbed my foot with the salve. It was really only needed on the broken nail and around my toe, but he very gently rubbed it into my arch and heel, causing me to sigh contentedly. His fingers felt so good I wanted to remove my other stocking and have that foot rubbed as well. Before I could work up the courage to ask, he tied the bandage and wiped his hands clean.

“All done,” he said, standing up. “How does it feel?”

“Wonderful. I don’t think I could have done a better job myself.”

“Let’s see how you do with a little weight.” He took me by the waist and lifted me from the table.

Back on the ground, I put some pressure on my foot. Finding it tolerable, I tried standing with equal measure. When a good deal of the former pain returned, I shifted back to the one foot. “I’m sure it will be greatly improved by morning,” I assured him. “There’s a crutch over by the door that I can use for tonight.”

He stood very near with his hands still on my waist to keep me steady. “I’ll carry you upstairs so you don’t cause any more damage,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “Though I don’t believe we’re finished here yet.”

Surprised by his change of tone, I glanced up at his face to find him staring at me with unguarded desire. Meeting my eyes, his grip tightened and a small tremor passed through my body as he bent his head, drawing so close our lips nearly touched.

There were a million reasons why we needed to stop before things progressed any further, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall even one. My body began to tremble for want of him, and the only thing I knew with certainty was how much I needed him to kiss me. Responding to my wishes, he moved one hand to my back, pressing me against him, and I closed my eyes ready to yield.

The moment his lips brushed mine, a fire burst to life inside me, making my blood burn and my skin prickle excitedly. Having never experienced this level of intimacy, I was ill prepared for such an intense physical response. A warm tide spread through my body, starting in my core and moving unbidden along a familiar pathway to my hands. His desire flowed into me, a desire so intense it took hold of my senses. Somewhere in the far depths of my mind, a voice cried out to stop. I ignored it, wrapped my arms around his neck, heedless of what secrets were about to be revealed.

Henry deepened the kiss, and my body turned molten. Fire played on my fingertips, begging to move forward. Brushing one hand along the back of his neck, my last strand of reason began to unravel when he drew back his head and snuffed the candle.

“Someone’s awake,” he said, his voice unsteady.

I held onto him, unconcerned if all of Hopewell was awake so long as they left us alone. Footsteps passed through the hallway, followed by the soft click of the servants’ door.

“Well, whoever it is, they’ve just left the house,” I said, not yet grasping the significance of the situation.

We listened for another minute when Henry reached up and took my hands from his neck. “It could be the servant who betrayed you. I’m going to see. Wait here until I get back.” He moved like a cat in the dark and left the room before I had a chance to fully register what he was doing.

Left alone, the last few minutes hit me with the force of an iron shovel. My knees gave out and I sank into the chair, dangerously close to losing my breath. The roving servant played little in my thoughts, except how the interruption had saved me from disaster at the last possible moment. As the warmth slowly receded from my arms and legs and moved back to my core, a sudden dizziness swept over me, and I dropped my head between my knees to keep from fainting.

Oh
,
dear Lord...

While staring aimlessly at the dark floor, I forced slow measured breaths through my nose.
What happened to me?
I had only ever experienced such a sensation in the process of healing a patient, and then, from years of training and experience, it was always safely controlled. But tonight, it had come out of nowhere. Overtaken by desire, I had nearly let it pass unhindered into Henry. Thinking about what he might have done in response to an unexpected rush of fire made me shudder. At that very instant, he would have known I wasn’t normal, that maybe I wasn’t even entirely human.

“You stupid girl!” I muttered into the darkness.

Henry was my greatest ally against Nathan Crowley, and I had just come unfathomably close to trading his help for certain condemnation. Not to mention the otherworldly consequences for breaking yet another law by revealing my identity in a fit of passion.

When the dizziness started to fade, I straightened in the chair and gazed toward the one window in my apothecary. Despite living amongst humans all my life, and being partly one myself, I had never before felt such disparity between our kinds as I did right now. Even the confrontation with Nathan on the road to Brighmor hadn’t left me feeling so estranged from all of humankind.

Tears burned in my eyes, and without thinking, I traced one finger across the line of my lips. On several occasions, my mother had warned that it would be too difficult to hide my gift from a husband. But in all that time, she’d failed to explain how just one kiss could kill me.

Pushing up from the chair, I hobbled over to the door in search of the crutch. Henry would be back soon and quite possibly hoping to pick up where we had left off. By then I would be safely upstairs, trying my hardest to forget how much I had enjoyed the feel of his mouth on mine.

Back in my room, I undressed down to my shift and crawled into bed, opting to take the coward’s route by faking sleep rather than having to face him again so soon. The morning would suffice to hear whatever information he had gained, once I was rested and not at risk of shaking all over if he stood too near.

A good hour must have passed before he finally came up the steps. I curled up on my side, intentionally turning my back to the door. He knocked softly and receiving no reply, opened the door just enough to see that I was in bed. For several minutes, he stood staring at my back while I worked to keep my breathing slow and steady.

“Good night, Selah,” he whispered into the dark. He then pulled the door closed and crossed the hall to his own room.

Chapter Ten

The Tenth Command

The next day I stayed in my chamber under the pretext that my toe needed time to heal rather than being further aggravated by tromping up and down the stairs. In truth, I hadn’t yet managed to banish last night from my thoughts, and so opted for the next best option of avoiding Henry’s company for as long as possible. This plan worked until mid-morning when a series of raps sounded on the door.

“Come in,” I called, thinking it to be Mary returning with the tea I’d requested.

Nerves jumped beneath my skin when Henry entered instead, a tray precariously balanced between his chest and one arm. Setting the tray on the bed, he nudged it close to me, and then sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“How is the patient this morning?”

A deep blush crept up my neck. “Very well, thank you.” I forced a shaky smile. “Did you discover anything last night? I must have fallen asleep by the time you returned.”

He gave me an odd look before turning his attention to the teapot. “Whoever left last night started toward the road. I barely caught sight of her skirts when she heard me coming and slipped into the adjacent woods. I searched for an hour without further sign of her.” Tipping the pot, he filled one cup with the steaming brown liquid. “And I’m afraid Mrs. Ryan has equally poor news. After interviewing the maids, she has reported that they have each denied any knowledge of the bottle, or who might have made it.”

“Then one of them is lying.”

A generous spoonful of sugar went into the cup next, same as I would have done. “I believe you’re right. But without more evidence there’s little to be done other than keep our eyes open for now.”

I frowned at the idea.

“Don’t worry, the culprit will reveal herself sooner or later.” He handed me the cup, which I gratefully accepted, tilting it toward my mouth for a small sip. “And we’ve something else to discuss.”

Hot tea hit the back of my throat. I gasped and fell straight into a coughing fit. More tea splashed over the rim of the cup, and Henry grabbed it from my hand, putting a linen napkin in its place.

I held the napkin to my mouth until the coughing subsided. Henry remained silent, watching me, and I dropped my gaze to the tray. “But you’ve already answered the questions I had from last night,” I babbled in a desperate attempt to avert any mention of our kiss. “I...I don’t believe we’ve anything more to discuss right now.”

There was a pause and Henry shifted his weight on the mattress. “Ben has inquired if you would like any more land cleared for next years’ planting. He had spoken with your father about adding five acres more, and didn’t know if you intended to proceed with the plan.”

Oh
,
thank heavens!
Relieved, I dared to look up again. “Tell him to do whatever he thinks best.”

“As you wish.” Henry stood, and I saw that his mouth had grown tight at the corners. “Unless you need anything more, I am expected in the far field to discuss additional drainage.”

I hurriedly shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Then I bid you good day, Selah.”

“Good day,” I repeated.

He bowed and left the room.

Thankful for his tact, I stared at the closed door while wondering how long we could pretend that nothing had happened between us—unless of course, he was also trying to forget. Caught up in the moment, he may have just gotten carried away and now regretted his bold behavior. Or maybe he hadn’t liked it very much. Recalling how his arms had trembled and the surge of his own desire, I dismissed this idea as folly.

For the rest of the day, I did my utmost to remain focused on the witch’s bottle rather than Henry. Quite obviously, one of the servants had lied to Mrs. Ryan about making the vile thing. Now it was up to me to find out whom, and by late afternoon, I had devised a plan to help weed out the culprit. It might be easy enough to tell a fib, but emotions were more difficult to hide, much like Henry’s passion and Susanna’s anxiety.

A series of soft knocks interrupted my thoughts. “Come in,” I called crossly.

Mary entered the room, carrying another tray. “Good day, ma’am. I’ve brought ye a fresh pot of tea and some warm crumpets.”

“Please set them by the hearth and then help me to the chair.”

Relieved of the tray, Mary came back to the bed. With her support, I stood up and put an arm around her shoulder. In this manner, we started to slowly walk over to the chair.

I allowed just enough power to warm the hand that rested on her shoulder. “Mary, I am truly vexed about the witch bottle. Do you know who made it?”

She flinched slightly from my question. “‘Tis wickedness among us, ma’am, and it wrings me sorely to know someone is acting against my mistress. Mrs. Ryan talked to all the maids, even the washerwoman, but no one knows a thing. Might be that one of the field hands snuck into yer chamber when no one was watching.”

While she spoke, I focused solely on her emotions. In a matter of seconds, I discovered a jumble of feelings, but it was concern that came flooding back into me, above everything else.

I took my hand from her shoulder and sank down into the chair, immediately breaking the bond between us. Concern was the last thing my accuser would be feeling, especially while standing right next to me.

“Thank you, Mary. Now, will you please ask the other maids to come to my room? I’m determined to get to the bottom of this.”

One at a time, I repeated the same exercise with Karta, Alice, and Evie, placing a hand on each of their arms when they came in to speak with me.

From Karta I learned she felt overwhelmed, most likely from the responsibility of keeping so many people fed with no one but Evie to help her. I vowed right then to hire another scullery maid to help in the kitchen.

Alice was a bit trickier. She had a great deal of guilt over something, but no hostility or fear. If anything, I felt a strong sense of gratitude. Before leaving, she promised to be extra diligent in her continued search for the culprit.

Evie proved the trickiest of all as the little imp wouldn’t stand close enough for me to touch. Hoping to outwit her, I asked her to hand me a novel from my bedside table. The moment I touched her though, she jerked away and dropped the book on the floor at my feet. From anyone else this would have been cause for alarm, but not from Evie. The girl had been odd from the start, always jumping at her own shadow. Frustrated, I finally sent her back to the kitchen before her nerves were entirely undone.

Despite my attempts, I was no closer in discovering the identity of thieving gossipmonger. If only I could read thoughts rather than just emotions, then there would be no hiding the truth. Put out by this limitation, I huffed a sigh and picked up the novel from the floor

* * *

When the next day dawned bright, I had little time to spare on the witch’s bottle. After taking breakfast in my room again, I dressed and limped awkwardly downstairs to prepare for a group of ladies who were meeting at Brighmor later that afternoon. As part of the initial plan to counter Nathan’s accusations, I had invited several friends over during my rounds last week, to knit wool stockings for the poor. In the dead of winter, I knew these tokens of charity would go far to sustain me in the opinion of our less fortunate citizens.

This ulterior motive aside, I usually didn’t mind needlework, and looked forward to spending the afternoon with my friends until a note arrived from Phoebe Trumble. In her perfectly shaped handwriting, she praised my intentions and said that she would arrive at two o’clock sharp to help with this worthy endeavor. I crumbled the note into a tight ball and threw it in the hearth, knowing full well that Phoebe hated knitting almost as much as she hated the poor. Most likely the primary reason behind her visit today was to get a good long look at my husband. Taking proper heed of Nora’s warning, I would make sure the conniving jade went home without so much as a peek.

Katrina Oswald, Allison Dowling, and Nora Goodwin all arrived at the same time, having walked the distance together. Mary showed them into the drawing room where I was sorting through a basket of yarn. Each lady selected a color, and we got right to work while catching up on the more lighthearted gossip. As the minutes passed, I began to hope that Phoebe had changed her mind when I heard carriage wheels and saw her shay coming up the drive.

“Oh, bother,” I mumbled into my knitting. The whole group fell silent as we waited for her to be shown in.

“Do forgive my lateness,” Phoebe said, kissing me on the cheek in greeting. “I got word from the milliner that my new gown was finished, and I just had to pick it up to wear today.”

My knowledge may have been limited in regards to growing wheat and balancing ledgers, but I knew my business when it came to gowns, and that one had cost more than most small farmers made in a year. Since Phoebe’s father owned only a midsized farm, I assumed it to be a gift from her wealthy grandfather who owned a shipyard in Philadelphia. “What do you think?” she asked, turning a circle to better show off every pleat and tuck. “Is it not the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?”

To my dismay, it probably was. My spirits fell even further, seeing her so stunningly clad with her beauty set off to perfection. Her hair resembled spun gold, and what wasn’t pinned up in back curled beautifully around her flawless oval face. Her skin was the very essence of cream, even more so than the yards of cream silk she wore, patterned with small bouquets of flowers in a pale blue that exactly matched her eyes. She looked absolutely lovely, and I gave an irritated sigh, knowing Henry may well fall in love on the spot like most of the other men in Hopewell and surrounding villages.

With a swirl of her skirts, Phoebe took a seat next to Allison Dowling. “Dear me, how fast your needles fly,” Phoebe said, glancing over at Allison’s work. “Too bad your stitches aren’t a bit tighter.”

Allison stopped knitting and held up the stocking for closer inspection with genuine distress. “Do you really think so? Maybe I should just start over.”

“Don’t you dare.” Nora glared openly at Phoebe. “No one here knits prettier than you. The lucky girl who gets those stockings will be the envy of all her neighbors.”

“And the one who gets these will be the laughingstock.” I held up a dozen lopsided rows of poorly shaped stitches.

Nora and Katrina laughed in agreement, each commenting that it was really the thought that counted. Allison struggled to find something nice to say. “I’m sure they’ll be fine once they’re finished,” she said politely.

Phoebe brought out her own needles and began. Her needles moved almost as quickly as Allison’s, leaving in their wake row after row of perfect stitches. “It’s always been a mystery to me why women are not more equally favored in the feminine arts,” she said. “I guess even God must have his favorites.”

“Is that what the Presbyterians are preaching nowadays?” Nora asked coolly.

“It hardly takes a preacher to see that some women have been more abundantly blessed than others. What do you think, Selah? Am I not right?”

“I think my inability to knit has absolutely no bearing on God’s love for me,” I replied tartly.

“Selah has her own talents,” Katrina said, coming to my defense. “Her needlework might not be as neat as some other girls, but she’s more skilled at healing than any doctor I’ve ever met. Even Mama and Papa agree they’ve never met anyone better.”

“True enough,” Phoebe readily agreed, immediately raising my suspicions. “But there are plenty of feminine arts besides healing and needlework that are admired by the opposite sex. I imagine a man would be much aggrieved to find his wife lacking in certain areas once they were married.”

My cheeks flushed hot, and I had to bite my tongue just to keep it civil.

Nora’s eyes snapped dangerously. “Which areas could those be?”

“How should I know?” Phoebe laughed with an artful toss of her head. “We should ask Selah, since she’s the only one among us who’s married. Have you found Mr. Kilbrid to esteem some talents higher than others?”

My hands fumbled clumsily with the needles, managing an ungainly knot in what was already turning out to be a rather pathetic stocking. Frustrated, I tugged on the thread in a futile attempt to relieve the tension, while reminding myself that it might be a good thing for the matrons to know that Henry and I had yet to consummate our marriage. Not that I appreciated having it brought up like this in front of everyone, especially in a way that made me appear inadequate as a wife.

“I’ve heard Mr. Kilbrid likes the way Selah plays the harpsichord and sings,” Katrina said. She was either completely oblivious to Phoebe’s innuendo, or ignoring it. “Last week he came over to the house with Ben to see Papa about some business. When they were done Papa started reminiscing about the Old World and asked Mr. Kilbrid what he missed the most. Mr. Kilbrid said it was the music, but that he had heard Selah play and sing and thought her very talented.”

“He said that?” I asked, temporarily forgetting Phoebe’s taunts.

“I was sitting in the next room and heard every word,” Katrina said. “He spoke very admiringly, and how he hoped some families could get together for an evening of singing and dancing. He seemed quite pleased when Mama told him about the ball we were planning to properly celebrate your marriage.”

“All anybody can talk about is this new Mr. Kilbrid,” Phoebe said in her usual dramatics. “My own curiosity nearly caused a most dreadful distemper until I finally got a glimpse of him last Sunday when he left the meetinghouse.”

“Do we get to meet him today?” Allison asked hopefully. “Nora says he’s a noble soul for saving you from those bandits.”

“He isn’t at home,” I apologized, though not feeling the least bit sorry at delaying his introduction to Phoebe.

“That’s too bad.” Phoebe’s white teeth flashed in a vicious smile. “Has he gone out on business, or are you keeping him safely
locked
away somewhere?”

She snickered softly, reveling in my humiliation. I stared at her, truly shocked at how badly I wanted to stick a knitting needle into one of her beautiful blue eyes. Fingering the smooth wood, I thought how easy it would be to stand up under the pretense of needing another pattern and then simply trip over the hem of my gown. No one would suspect it had been done on purpose. And I was fairly certain she could get an eye patch made out of cream silk to match her dress.