The Paladin and The Healer

"No, not yet. I am enjoying this too much."

"Do not push yourself too hard, Lucas. If you cause yourself to relapse you may learn exactly how distasteful a brew I can make."

He chuckled and leaned his head back against the hearth stones. "I am alright, I promise I will lay down soon."

She stood and crossed to him. She checked his forehead with a business like hand, then offered her hand to help him rise. "Now."

"Yes, my lady."

Mary did not sleep in the cot that night, she took to her own bed not long after the sun went down. She was quite proud of herself about that. Of course, Lucas did not ask that she sleep with him, she was not certain she would have said no if he had. And, she didn't sleep much at all anyway. It seemed that every sound the old house made, or every sound from outside, might be Lucas coming to join her in her bed. She did not know which thought upset her the most, that he might want to, or that he might not. She tried over and over to tell herself that she was being silly, she was being childish, she was acting like a lovesick girl. But she could not deny the aching need and wetness between her thighs.

Quietly, terrified that he might come in and find her, or hear her, she pulled up her shift and spread her thighs wide open. She slipped two fingers into her cunt, astonished to feel how wet and swollen she was already, and slowly began to work them in and out. Visions of his magnificent body approaching her out of the dark appeared in her head and she bit her lip to stifle a moan of pleasure. She slipped her fingers out and circled her stiff clit, then pushed back in.

What would it feel like to have him laying over her, kissing her hungrily and pushing his beautiful cock into her. He would be so hard from longing for her, so large.

"I love you so, Mary," he would whisper, "My beautiful Mary."

He would push in slowly, filling her completely. It would hurt, a little, but the pain would be delicious.

She brought her knees up and pushed with her feet, arching her pelvis to take him deep into her. Her beautiful imaginary lover.

"Take me, Lucas. I am yours, I have always been yours."

Her fingers brushed over her clit and she could not suppress the moan as her release washed over her, like a hot wave that lifted her and threatened to wash her away.

"Yes, Lucas, my darling. More. Don't stop. Don't ever stop. Love me forever."

Tears of joy, tears of passion, tears of bitter disappointment rolled down her face.

He would never say such things to you, you idiot girl. He does not love you, he will never love you. You are not beautiful, you are ugly.

She cried quietly for a long time before she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Lucas, drifting in sleep from Mary's tea, dreamed much less well formed dreams. Dreams of a kind, loving woman who slipped down on him and whispered words of love and need to him. He could not see her face, but he knew the body, he knew the full breasts, the perfect hips and legs, the long thick hair. He knew her.

The next morning later Mary stepped out of her bedroom to find Lucas standing near the window looking out at the day. The blanket was thrown around his shoulders, he stood barefoot and beautiful in the brightening day.

"Good morning," she said softly after taking in the sight of him. "You must be feeling better."

"Good morning. Yes I feel much better today. I hope I did not wake you."

She came to his side and he turned to look down at her. She had not noticed before how tall he was. He towered over her, she felt like a girl standing near him.

She raised her hand to his forehead, he raised his hand to her cheek, mirroring her gesture tenderly. He smiled down at her. It is not fair, she thought, even his smile is beautiful. She almost gasped in astonishment when he leaned close and kissed her forehead. What? Why did he do that?

She tried to mask her emotions, but after watching her face so intently over their time together Lucas knew what to look for. He could see the surprise in her eyes, and the almost involuntary pulling away. He thought he understood why. A few things she had let slip as they talked told him that she believed she was hideous. True, her jaw was strong, her nose was large and not straight, he brows were a bit heavy. Her features were too strong for the look of delicate beauty so many men prized.

She had also let slip that she had been cruelly treated by her peers when she was growing up. Of course, children could be cruel, that is how children were. He suspected that she had heard other unkind things, probably from men.

Lucas did not care. He saw past the flaws and he saw the beauty of her. He knew her kindness, her quickness, her compassion and her strength, her gentle hands. Her beautiful eyes drew him in.

He smiled down at her. "I was hoping I might be able to wear clothes today. I would feel less of an invalid, and I should spend some time with Ironhoof today. He will think I have abandoned him."

"That is an excellent idea, I will be happy to help you dress if you will do something for me."

"Anything."

"I need a bath and I have no interest in going to the stream. Could you help me fill the tub, then wait outside for a while? I will not take long."

"Of course. I have intruded on your hospitality for long enough, it is time I begin returning some of your many kindnesses. Take as long as you need."

"Thank you, I will. When I am finished we can heat water for you to bathe as well."

"Promise you will not peek?" His grin made him look like a naughty boy and she gave a half-smile in return. It was not much of a smile, but it was better than the somber expression she usually wore.

"As if I have not already seen every inch of you there is to see."

"Well then I should peek so we will be even."

Her scoff did not hide her blush very well.

They worked together to get things ready. She helped him dress, pulling on his boots and lacing his breeches were particularly trying. He hoped she did not see how much he enjoyed the attention. He managed to roll the wooden tub into the front room from outside. She pulled his cot to one side and began heating the water. She had two buckets, so one was heating and he was able to pour the other into the tub one handed. She pretended to scold him whenever he spilled on the floor, and he took the insincere rebuke with a meekness that was no more sincere. As he left the cottage out the back door he gave his little boy grin and teasingly told her to call if she needed him to scrub her back. Her blush made him grin even more and he left quickly.

Knowing he could make her blush so easily was very interesting. Lucas was a horrible tease with women.

Ironhoof came trotting up and Lucas scratched him under the jaw.

"It is good to see you too, old man. I am sorry I have not been able to spend time with you before now."

The big horse nudged his uninjured shoulder as if to say not to worry about it, then looked over Lucas' shoulder at the door.

"She is bathing, and she asked for some privacy. After everything she has done it was the least I could do for her."

The horse used his head to push Lucas toward the door.

"Stop it, old man. It is not like that."

Ironhoof pushed him again harder.

Lucas sighed, "I know it seems much simpler for a horse, but things become more complicated for humans. Let it alone, all right? Do not give me advice about women and I will not give you advice about mares."

The horse gave a snort of clear disgust and Lucas rolled his eyes. That was when they heard the front door slam open and Mary scream.

Lucas ran around to the front door. His first impulse was to rush in and demolish whoever was there, but training took hold and he stopped at the open door and look in.

Mary was backing away from a figure, Mary was also wet and naked but Lucas forced his eyes to the figure facing her. She was frightened, but her eyes were clear of tears.

He was tall, filthy, coated in blood, muttering words of hate and violence. The figure turned as he advanced on Mary, Lucas recognized him by the stub of the arrow protruding from his stomach. How could that loathsome animal still be alive?

Rage rose in Lucas, you left him alive, you never checked on him. Now look what your carelessness has caused. Lucas' saber was behind the door along with the bow. Lucas didn't have so much as a belt knife.

Then he saw the bucket on the hearth. That would have to do. I'm here, Mary, take another couple of steps. That's my brave girl. One more...

Lucas surged forward, snatched up the bucket without pausing, raised it and brought it down with all his strength.

The Goddess of Infinite Love understood forgiveness and compassion. She would accept the need that drove Lucas forward. She would be saddened by it, but she would understand.

But the Goddess was also the Warrior, and she understood rage. The Goddess was the Judge and she understood hard justice.

And in all her aspects she understood necessity.

The bucket was heavy, made of oak and banded in iron. It delivered a blow fueled by ferocious anger. One blow would probably have been enough to finish the job.

One blow would never be enough for Lucas, not when protecting Mary from this beast. The second blow guaranteed the man was dead. But it was still not enough. The small room echoed with the boom from the third blow delivered after the man was limp on the floor.

Lucas forgot the rage and stood, turning to Mary who slammed into him, clutching him in her arms and burying her face in his chest. She hugged him hard then looked into his face.

They said the same words almost at the same instant. "Are you all right?"

She pressed her cheek against his chest as he said, "Yes, I am completely fine. Are you all right? He did not hurt you, did he?"

She shook her head, "No, he never touched me. I think he may have been close to death, he was not able to walk very well so I could keep away from him. I do not know how he was even still alive."

"Neither do I. I am sorry for this, and I am sorry you had to witness that but I did not see any other choice."

She tightened her arms and pressed herself against him. Lucas stroked her bare back soothingly and wondered if he could reach her robe. This felt entirely too good.

"Let me get your towel," he muttered, "you must be cold."

"No, please, just hold me for a moment."

"Of course, as long as you want."

She never cried when she was afraid, Lucas thought to himself. Not even after. She is so brave.

She raised her head and looked up at him, her expression serious. He smiled softly down at her and cupped her cheek. "It is all right, sweet Mary, he cannot hurt you. No one will ever hurt you again. I won't let them."

As he spoke Lucas bent toward her, drawn by her allure. It was wrong, he knew, but he could not resist.

Her eyes filled with tears suddenly and her face fell into a look of crushing sadness that broke his heart to see. He could hear her beginning to sob like a child with a broken heart when she pulled away and slammed the door to her bedroom between them.

Two hours later Lucas tapped softly on the door.

"Mary, could I speak with you, please?"

There was a long silence from the other side of the door. He was prepared for her to say no, or go away, or almost anything. He would not insist or ask again. He only wanted to give her what she needed, she deserved no less from him.

"Come in," she said softly.

He opened the door slowly and stepped in. She was laying under her blankets, her back to him.

"I won't stay long, I wanted to tell you a few things, then I will leave you alone. First, I cleaned up the other room so you will not have to look at... him. Oh, and I brought your robe, I thought you might want it." He came to the side of the bed and lay it over her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"I also wanted to apologize. I admit I tried to kiss you and I should not have. No, please let me finish. Anyone could see your dedication to the Goddess, it is so obvious in everything you do, and it is one of the things I admire most about you. I forgot that dedication for a moment. Perhaps I also frightened you a bit. But I am sorry for what I did, and I will remember my place until I finish healing and I can be on my way."

"Now, I am going to go outside and enjoy the air a bit and give you some time in your house."

He slipped out of the room and out the back door.

After some time collecting herself, and telling herself to stop acting the fool, Mary got up and dressed. In the front room she saw that Lucas had been as good as his word. There was no sign of... their visitor. Even the floor had been scrubbed clean. The tub was missing from the floor, the fire burned cheerfully, everything was neat and tidy. She stepped out and around to the back of the cottage and saw him sitting on the stump under the big oak, looking down at Metta's grave. Her heart ached when she saw him, as it did every time. It was so unfair.

She drank in the sight of him, knowing that in a week or so he would be on his way. She could not bear to think of him being gone.

She felt a nudge against her back, then a firm push. Ironhoof could move with surprising stealth for so large an animal. He pushed her again, clearly he wanted her to go talk to Lucas.

"Stop it," she muttered to him, "I am going."

She saw that he was smoking which was a pleasant surprise. She stepped up beside him and put her hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"I did not know you smoked. I always loved the smell of pipe tobacco. My father smoked and the smell reminds me of him." She was babbling again, but she could not stop. "My fondest memories are of him sitting on the porch of our house, watching the sunset. I would sit on his lap and we would not talk at all until it was dark. He would set me on my feet and say, 'Off to bed, duckling,' He always called me duckling. He was so gentle, I never once heard him raise his voice in anger."

"He sounds like a good man. You must miss him."

"I do, terribly."

"I have been sitting here introducing myself to Metta."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"No, I have done most of the talking, as I expected. And that big gray know-it-all has been pestering me as well."

He stood and knocked his pipe against the stump to knock out the ash.

"Mary..."

"No, it is my turn. You were wrong, Lucas. It was not fear that made me cry, I have never feared you at all. I cried out of anger and disappointment. You tried to kiss me but I refuse to take pity from you or any man. I have some pride."

"Pity? You think..."

"Of course, pity. You think I am blind? You think I cannot look in a mirror and see the truth in this ugly face?"

"Mary!..."

"No! Damn you, do not try to pretend. I know what I am, I know what I look like. I know that if you had not been wounded you would have never looked at me twice, except out of scorn or pity. I have seen both in men's eyes. I hate it. I will not accept it, not from you or anyone. So what if the sight of you makes me weak? So what if touching you makes my heart pound. It does not matter if I have pleaded with the Goddess for you to come to my bed. It does not matter that I would do anything to please you, anything. I do not care, I may be ugly but I have some pride. What are you doing? Let go of me."

Lucas pulled her close, held her tightly in his arms. "Mary, you talk to much." and he bent to kiss her deeply.

She pushed against his chest, she grunted in protest, she tried to hit him and ended up flailing uselessly, she paused, shivered, slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him helplessly. He hugged her tightly, crushed her against his body and devoured her mouth with his. She moaned softly, buried her hands in his hair and pressed her lush, perfect body against his.

The kiss ended eventually, she clung to him trembling and they were both breathing hard.

"I did not try to kiss you because I pitied you. I tried to kiss you because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I have ever seen. While you have been laying in bed wanting me to come to you, I have been doing the same. You make my blood boil every time I see you. Every time, Mary."

"You talk to much."

She used the grip she had in his hair to pull him down again and kissed him hungrily.

They might have stayed there until winter if Ironhoof had not neighed loudly, a song of smug, knowing delight. They turned to look at him at the same time, Mary pressed her cheek to Lucas' chest again and they laughed as the big horse cavorted across the yard like a colt. He lipped at Mary's hair playfully and she pushed his head away with rough affection.

"Stop it, you horrible beast. Go away and let me enjoy this while I can."

Lucas bent to kiss her throat and she quivered. "Oh my. You are just as horrible as he is."

"Yes, I am, and you hate it when I kiss your throat."

"Yes, I hate it. Do it more."

"Yes, my lady."

He interspersed kisses with soft teasing bites. Her hands roamed up and down his broad back. But he stopped when he felt her trembling.

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Do not be afraid, Mary. I will never hurt you, and I will never do anything you do not want."

"I am not afraid, Lucas, I am on fire. I want you so much. Take me inside, please. Take me to bed. I will try to please you. I will do everything I can to please you."

He smiled tenderly to her and cupped her face in his big hand. "No, my sweet Mary. I will do everything I can to please you."

He wanted to lift her in his arms and carry her inside, but his shoulder would not allow the gallant gesture it. He swore sulfurously and cradled his arm in his right hand. Mary was instantly solicitous.

"Are you alright? You did not break your stitches, did you? "

"I am fine. Something made me forget about my shoulder. I cannot imagine what it was."

She looked at him soberly and extended a hand. He took it in his and followed her to the cottage.

Mary felt her uncertainty growing, but it was not until they entered the cottage and she could see her bed that her courage failed her. She stopped walking.

"I cannot. I thought I could. Please believe me, I want to so much, but I cannot."

"Mary, what is wrong?"

She turned to face him and he saw tears in her eyes again.

"I want you, Lucas, I want you so much but I am not... right for you. I am not pretty enough for you. I have never... been with a man and I am not sure... I know I will never please you. You deserve better, you deserve someone pretty. Please..."

He cupped her cheek and brushed one calloused thumb across her lips to silence her.

"Mary. My sweet Mary. You are right, we should not do this. I am far too old for you. I am much older than you, Mary. Old enough perhaps to be your father. It would be wrong for you to be with me. You want a young man. Some handsome young man who can please you the way you deserve. Not some broken down, scarred..." It was such an obvious ploy, surely she would see through it. But she was very upset so perhaps not.

She was gripping the front of his shirt and shaking him. "Shut up. Shut up. How can you say that to me? You think I do not know who I want? You think I cannot see how good you are? I choose you. Only you."

He moved close and kissed her forehead as gently as he could.

"So," he whispered, "You will insist on choosing for yourself, but deny me the chance to?"

"But... No, you cannot trick me, it is not the same."

"It is the same, Mary."

"No."

"Yes it is. Mary," he interrupted her before she could protest again. "If you do not want me, say you do not want me. I will understand and accept. If you wish to wait, say you wish to wait. I will understand and we will wait. As long as you need to. But do not tell me you are not beautiful. Do not tell me you are not perfection. And do not ever tell me that you do not please me. I see you. I know you." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And I want you."