The Bewitching Twin(6)

His dwelling sat at the end of the village, at the foot of the hill. It was long, the turf roof shaped like an overturned boat with two smokestacks at each end. She followed him through the front door and passed down a corridor, the end splitting off to the left and right. Rogan turned right and they entered a large room.

A hearth comprised the back wall with one window covered with animal fur. A large wooden chest sat beneath it. A long table with benches on each side sat in front of the fireplace, wooden bowls were stacked in a neat row in the center, and tankards divided each stack.

The fire’s flames licked a bubbling cauldron and several thick candles provided good lighting to the room.

“Sit, we will eat,” Rogan said, dropping the wolf pelt he wore on the chest.

After leaving the fur cloak on a bench near the doorway, Aliss took the seat closest to the hearth. A pretty young woman entered with a smile and a basket on her arm. “I have food for you and your guest.”

“Thank you, Anna,” Rogan said. “Leave it, we will help ourselves. I am sure you are eager to spend time with John after his lengthy absence.”

Her cheeks turned rosy and she was gone in a flash, but not before Aliss noticed the rash on her neck. “Is a rash one of the symptoms of the illness?”

“No. Anna is the only one afflicted with a rash and she has not been ill.” Rogan moved the basket to the center of the table.

Aliss stood and began to unwrap the items, revealing warm bread, hunks of cheese, and dry salted fish. “Is her husband John the one who posed as a cleric?”

“By his own desire.” Rogan frowned as he took bowls and filled one with the hot stew from the cauldron. “Wagging tongues were directed toward Anna when the rash appeared and she did not grow ill. Soon there was talk that she bore the devil’s mark of protection. To prove the gossipers wrong John volunteered to play the roll of the cleric.”

“Did his sacrifice stop wagging tongues?”

“For now.” Rogan set a steaming bowl of rabbit stew in front of her.

Aliss reached to tear a piece of bread from the loaf when Rogan’s hand landed gently on hers.

“You will help us.”

Aliss was stunned by the ferocity of his confidence and the tenderness of his touch. His warm, callused palm tickled her flesh and the strange sensation unnerved her. She was feasting as a guest instead of a captive; but she was here against her will and she would do well to remember that.

She tore at the bread to dislodge his hand. “I will do my best to heal your people.”

Rogan filled his own bowl and sat opposite her at the table.

The meal was relatively quiet. She was hungrier than she had realized, but then she had not given food much thought. Her mind had been too busy.

Now with her stomach filling, the warmth of the fire easing her chill, and the bargain for her release settled, she was curious to know more about the man called the Wolf and to learn what other motives he had in mind.

She found it odd for a leader and warrior, considered harsh and fierce, to serve her food. He had not commanded one of his people to serve him or that she should wait on him. Was this truly his nature or was he attempting to win her confidence?

“You spend much time in your thoughts.”

“I learn much there.”

He braced his elbows on the table and cupped his hands. “What have you learned?”

She was about to admit that he puzzled her, when she thought better of it. “My thoughts are my own.”

“You fear to share them?”

“I do not wish to share them.”

He broke off a piece of cheese. “You do not trust me.”

“That is not surprising.”

He tore the piece in two and handed her one.

She took it, and the very tips of his fingers brushed hers, raising gooseflesh up her arm. She snatched her hand away. “I will need to see what herbs flourish in this area.”

“I want your trust.”

“Why?” she snapped, annoyed he would not leave the matter alone.

“Because I am all you have at the moment. There is no one but me to protect you.”

“Protect me?” she asked with dubious humor.

“You are under my protection now and I ask that you trust me.”

“You have brought me here to tend your people. What does it matter if I trust you or not?”

“When trust is shared, you know that you can always depend on each other—no matter what happens. I want you to know you can depend on me without question.”

“Trust is earned.”

“Are you telling me I must earn your trust?” he asked.

“Do you trust me?”

A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You are a worthy opponent.”