Mira (7 page)

           
There was one room that had rugs in it which weren’t being used.
 
He looked over at Mira again and made the decision.
 
Elizabeth
was long dead.
 
She wouldn’t miss the few items.
 
The rugs would need to be beaten to drive the dust from them.
 
He would take care of that after he cleaned her up and returned her to bed.
 

           
Rillan lit the fireplace and candles around the room.
 
That way, if she woke while he was there, she would be able to see, and he may not frighten her as badly.
 
He still didn’t know how she would react when she regained consciousness.
 
Though at this point, he wasn’t quite as inclined to blame her if she was frightened of him.
 
He knew full well how much pain and weakness accompanied a sleep this deep for this long.
 
He had rarely taken the first feeding this far, save on the few occasions that the girls took too long to come around.

           
Rillan checked the bath water, finding it warm enough, he returned to her bedside and lifted her carefully into his arms.
 
He carried her cold body to the water and lowered her into the tub, ignoring the water that splashed over the edge and soaked his shirt and pants.
 
He propped her securely in the tub and left her to warm up while he pulled the blankets and sheets from the bed and replaced them with clean ones.

           
Mira was still unconscious, when he returned to her.
 
Rillan sighed and picked up the rose scented soap he left for her last week.
 
He rubbed the soap in a soft cloth, then held her with one arm while he gently ran the cloth over her back and arms.
 
He leaned her back against the tub again and stroked the soapy cloth over her breasts, smiling when she took in a deep breath as if she were enjoying what he was doing.
 
His hand seemed to lose the cloth momentarily, as he dipped beneath the water to clean her sex.
 
Rillan cradled her with one arm, while the fingers of the opposite hand combed through the hair covering her mound and then caressed the folds of her pussy. He couldn’t help remembering how she tasted.
 
Mira moaned softly, and he turned his eyes on her face to see if she was awake, but there was nothing.
 

           
Rillan sighed again and pulled is hand from her body.
 
The part of his mind that told him he shouldn’t be molesting an unconscious woman was winning out over the part of his mind that told him she belonged to him and he could do as he liked with her.
 
He washed her hair, and found the bump that told him exactly how hard she hit her head when she fell.
 
He growled at himself for not having checked on her sooner and carefully rinsed the soap from her hair.
 

           
Rillan grabbed a towel from the chair near the tub.
 
Lifting her, he wrapped her in the in the soft material before carrying her back to her bed.
 
He found a soft white shift from the chest at the foot of her bed and dressed her.
 
Laying her back on her pillows, he pulled the blankets over her, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

           
Lastly, he went to her store room with the larder and found some dried meat and vegetables.
 
Taking them back to the fire, he pulled the small pot from the brackets and filled it with the ingredients.
 
Rillan wasn’t a great cook, but he knew that she would need to eat when she woke up.
 
He placed the pot back on the brackets and swung it into the fire.
 

           
With a last look over at the angel lying in the bed, Rillan decided he would go change out of his wet clothes, get himself cleaned up, and then come back to check on her before he got some sleep.
 
The worst was over.
 
The more she slept, the better she would feel.
 
That thought didn’t stop him from feeling guilty for what he did.
 
He knew very well that it didn’t have to go that far.
 
He was frustrated by Mira and was trying to scare her.
 
Obviously it backfired.
 
Or maybe it didn’t.
 
When she wakes, she may very well be terrified of the monster that hurt her.
 
At least this time I know that I can’t blame anyone except myself for it
.
 
To some extent,
he thought,
it might be better that way.
 
Fear is what I’m used to.
 
This one is getting to me far too much.

* * * *

           
Mira rolled onto her side and pulled a pillow to her chest, cuddling down into the soft silky blankets.
 
Slowly, she started to remember the last time she was awake.
 
The room smelled of stew or soup or something good.
 
Her stomach growled.
 
Mira opened her eyes and stretched, wondering if it had all been a dream.
 
She still felt sore, but it was nothing like what she remembered.

           
A dull ache throbbed in Mira’s skull.
 
Sitting up, she lifted her hand to the side of her head, where she found a tender knot the size of a small egg.
 
Proof that it wasn’t a dream
.
 
At least my legs are working this time,
she thought, and inched to the edge of the bed.
 
It didn’t take near the effort that it had before.
 
She noticed that her robe was across the foot of the bed, and she pulled it on over a shift she didn’t remember putting on.
 
Looking around the room, she saw that her rugs were gone, and her pitcher was different.
 
He must have come in and cleaned everything up while I was unconscious,
she thought uncertainly.
 

           
Mira made her way over to the fire, found a bowl and spoon, and carefully scooped some of the meaty broth out of the pot.
 
The stones were cold under her feet and sent a chill through her.
 
I wonder if he’ll replace the rugs.
 
They made a big difference
.
 
She sat down in the chair at the small table in her room and ate slowly.
 
It wasn’t great stew, but she instantly felt better as it filled her empty stomach.
 

           
Rillan watched from the shadows, as Mira got up and made herself a bowl of stew.
 
She was obviously unsteady, but relief coursed through him, with the certainty that she would be okay.
 
He slunk into the darkness and quietly opened her storeroom, removed a loaf of bread and some cheese, then crept back.
 
She was sitting with her eyes closed, chewing a small bite of stew.
 
Her head must still hurt,
he thought.
 

           
Indecision halted his steps.
 
He didn’t want to upset her, but he wanted to know how she was going to be with him now.
 
He could wait until she came looking for him again, but his guilty conscience would gnaw at him until he apologized.
 
He growled at himself.
 
He would feel even worse, if he went in to talk to her and only made her upset in addition to having made her sick.
 
Finally, he began to annoy himself again.
 
When did I stop being a man with women,
he asked himself in frustration.
 
He strode into the room and cleared his throat, so that she would hear him coming.

           
Mira jumped at the sudden strange noise assaulting her ears over the sound of the crackling fire.
 
Rillan flinched, when she reacted to his approach with fear.
 
He was already anticipating her screaming, when she looked at him.
 
To his surprise, when Mira turned, and her eyes met his, she gave him a solid glare, which spoke of any number of emotions, none having anything to do with fear.

           
“A gentleman knocks to announce his presence.
 
I don’t appreciate being snuck up on, Lord Tiernay,” Mira said, in a quiet, but authoritative tone reflective of her pounding headache.

           
Rillan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the glare and reprimand.

           
“I’m glad you find it amusing,” she growled angrily and went back to her stew.

           
Rillan sat the bread and cheese on the table in front of her.
 
“Do you want some tea,” he suggested.
 
Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the fire, poured some water from the new pitcher into the cast iron kettle and placed it in the fire.

           
Mira broke a piece of the bread off of the loaf and dipped it in the stew broth.
 
She chewed slowly, ignoring Rillan, as he produced two mugs for the tea and a tea pot.
 
He seemed to know her room almost better than she did.
 

           
He cleared his throat again.
 
“Are you feeling better?”
 
Rillan squatted down near the fire and used the poker to move the logs about.

           
Mira finished chewing and swallowed.
 
“A little.”
 
There was another long silence, while Mira watched him play in the fire.
 
She thought about some of her friends and how the guys always liked to mess with the fire.
 
She wondered if it was male nature to be drawn to the flames.
 
“My head hurts pretty badly,” she said, in a nervous sounding voice.

           
Rillan stood up and looked at her.
 
He stared into her eyes intently, as if he was trying to look inside her.
 
The intensity caused Mira to turn her attention back to the mostly empty stew bowl.

           
“Here.” he said and produced a small pouch of herbs from one of his pockets.
 
“This should help.”

           
Mira opened the pouch and looked inside.
 
She recognized a number of the herbs and nodded.
 
She figured that she could add some of it to her tea.
 
“Thank you,” she said, and then there was more silence.
 
She really didn’t know how to act.
 
She kept seeing flashes of what happened go through her mind.
 
Mira accepted that this was her life now.
 
Whatever he was, and whatever he was going to do, she would have to either live with it or ask him to kill her.
 
She was beginning to understand why the others chose death.
 

           
“You’re thinking very hard,” Rillan said.

           
Mira looked up and saw the concern on his face.
 
“I guess I am.”

           
Rillan nodded, poured the tea, and came over to the table.
 
He plucked the bag of herbs up and put a few pinches into her cup before handing it to her.
 
“May I ask what’s making your brow furrow so deeply?”
 

           
Mira could almost feel the resignation and concern weighted in the words.
 
“I’m not ready to die yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

           
Rillan’s eyes bored into her.
 
“Good.”

           
They sat in silence some more.
 
Neither of them knew what was supposed to come next.
 
Rillan was getting frustrated again.
 
Now he knew she was alright and wasn’t going to volunteer to be put out on the slab in front of his cave, his mind was reverting to safer feelings.
 
Anger was the one he felt most comfortable with.

           
When Rillan started tapping his fingers impatiently, Mira broke the silence again.
 
“Will it always be like that,” she asked softly.

           
Rillan’s tone was harsher than he intended.
 
“How long have you been sitting there stewing to ask me that?”

           
“I’m not trying to insult you,” she replied defensively.
 

           
Rillan stood up and paced away from her.
 
“No, it shouldn’t always be like that.”
 
He knew that she didn’t realize it was his fault, and he didn’t want to admit to it.
 
If she didn’t hate him now, he figured she would the minute she realized that he had been playing games and risked her life trying to make a point.
 
He waited for her to ask why it had been so bad that time, but the question never came.