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like a bloodhound chasing a fox and stopped. She seemed not
to notice.
"Sit. There's no reason to stand on principle here. Be
comfortable and I'll fetch your food."
Wulf's eyes grew thoughtful as he stared at the slender
figure. Her beauty was unarguable, fiery auburn hair flaming
in the light of the fire. A hazy film muted the colors of her
eyes, and he found himself unable to decide on their hue. She
had a small, heart shaped face with rosy cheeks and a pert,
upturned nose. She walked with a gentle confidence, her
hand in front of her in a manner that spoke of long habit.
"You're blind," he gasped in shock.
"Yes, I'm aware of that. I have been for years, Master
Wulf. Sit please. The affliction that took my sight will not
harm you."
She stopped at the fireplace, reaching for a small pad and
using it to protect her hand from the heat. Lifting a small pot
from the metal rod hung over the fire, she stirred it quickly
before scooping up a goodly amount and filling a thick
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wooden bowl. Setting the pot to the floor, she collected a
hunk of bread and a wooden spoon, turning and walking back
to him. Holding the food in her outstretched hand, she waited
for him to take it before returning to the small rocking chair in
front of the fire.
"Eat, please. You need to keep up your strength, Sir Wulf.
You cannot let your mourning sap your will to live. You are
too important."
Wulf sank down on the small bench that lined one length
of the wooden table. He set the bowl and spoon upon the
table, letting the bread drop into the bowl. "How do you know
me? How can you be so sure I'm not here to hurt you?"
Lyra bowed her head, smiling. "You are a good man, Sir
Wulf. You wouldn't hurt a woman unless she'd done you
unforgivable wrong. I've offered you nothing but succor.
There's naught wrong in that." She tapped the floor
impatiently. "Eat."
Wulf picked up his spoon, deciding food wasn't as bad an
idea as he'd first thought. They'd been interrupted before he'd
been able to finish his dinner this night and now he realized
he was hungry. He spooned the food into his mouth, enjoying
the subtle nuances of the spices. "This is wonderful. Thank
you."
"You are quite welcome, Sir Wulf." With that she began to
rock, the chair squeaking quietly. Reaching down, she lifted a
pair of knitting needles from a basket of yarn and began to
knit expertly. The needles clacked in counter rhythm to the
squeaking chair, creating a soothing melody of sound.
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Wulf ate, devouring the stew and the hunk of bread. When
he'd finished, he took the bowl and spoon and washed them
in a bucket of water left for just that purpose. Drying his
hands, he went back to the bench. "I thank you. I actually
feel better, Lady Lyra."
Lyra laughed, letting the needles rest in her lap. "I'm no
lady, Sir Wulf but you are most definitely welcome." She
waved at him to come nearer, holding out her hands to him.
He went obediently, dropping his hand into hers. She
closed her eyes and he felt a strange sensation, as if someone
were pushing at his mind. Wulf shook his head, closing his
own eyes to fight the invasion. Before he could, it was gone.
She released his hand.
"A strong mind," she mused, seeming to speak to herself.
"A handsome man, with a broken heart. What could be more
enticing?"
She rose, taking his hands once more. "Sir Wulf, I know of
your loss and the pangs it causes your heart." She spoke
slowly, carefully choosing her words. "There is power inside of
you, a power you've left untapped. I don't know if it's fear or
ignorance that has let this fall to the wayside. I have a
question for you. I would like you to listen to me, just once
and all the way through, before you make your answer,
please."
She seemed to need that commitment from Wulf so he
nodded yes, forgetting in the moment that she was blind.
Now that he'd finished his meal, he found himself more
heartsick than before. He wished he'd stayed at Rose Thorn.
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He had family there, family that would have mourned with
him.
His eyes dropped to the floor and he missed seeing Lyra
reach up to her blouse and untie the chord that kept it on her
shoulders. He didn't miss noticing her skirt and blouse hit the
floor. His eyes widened, moving over the slender body of the
healer.
"What is this you do?" Wulf snapped, jumping back as she
reached out one slim hand.
"Please, Sir Wulf, you promised to listen to my tale without
interrupting."
"Yes, of course, but put on your clothing." Wulf backed up
until he hit the table behind him, halting his retreat from the
blind girl.
"Am I not pleasing to your eye?" Lyra's hands caressed the
beautiful curves of her body. "Can you feel no desire to touch
me at all?"
"My desires are dead," Wulf growled, his voice hard. "They
died with my Adaira Rose. I am little more than a hollow
shell." He sank down on the chair, his eyes sliding to the fire.
The flickering flames reminded him of home and the inferno
that had taken his Rose from him.
"I want a son," the healer said huskily. Her hands roamed
over her breasts, squeezing their lush fullness. Her fingers
played with the hardened tips and made her moan. "For you,
I could be a distraction, someone to lose yourself in for a few
stolen hours. You could give me the son I long for, the child
that is my destiny. I ask nothing of you but your seed." She
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