The Healer's Passion Read online

  Thinking Gemma might want the cloak and pin her husband had dropped, Téa scooped them up as Trotula directed a couple of men to grab the baggage that had arrived with them from the future.

  The crowd dispersed and Trotula led them into the massive stone walls of the former monastery dispensary, past a long room with beds about two-thirds full of female patients, and had him place Gemma on a bed in a private examination room.

  “I’ll care for Gemma,” Trotula said. “If you wish to attend to your husband, you may use the next room.”

  Téa pulled Rick into the empty room next door and glanced around. It was austere, with nothing but a bed, table and lamp. She fumbled with lighting the lamp, then pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

  “I’m fine,” Rick protested. “The mail protected me.” He pulled aside the surcoat to look at the point of impact. “See? The mail is bent where he stabbed me, but none of the rings are broken.”

  Annoying macho male. “I’m the doctor. I’ll be the judge of whether you’re injured or not.”

  “You’re a psychiatrist, not a general practitioner.”

  “I had medical training, too.” Seeing his stubborn expression, she added, “Trotula expects it, and we need to get on her good side.”

  “Why? Do you think she has the amulet we’re looking for?”

  “It’s very possible. Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “I assume Professor Carswell sent us to Salerno.”

  “No, I mean this building. This is the famed School of Salerno, the first European medical university. At least one of the the medallion pieces they found was used for healing. If this one is too, what better place to hide an amulet?”

  “Do you sense it?”

  “No, not yet. But if I can persuade Trotula to give me a tour…”

  Rick sighed. “Can’t the exam wait? This stuff is heavy and it’ll be a bitch to take off.”

  Téa had him move his arm to ensure he still had the full range of movement. “Okay, it’s probably just bruised, but I’d better check it later. Trotula might have something—”

  “Forget it,” Rick said, pulling away from her. “Primitive medicine—no, thanks. I don’t want to be bled to death.”

  “I mean herbs, something to make a compress.” A soft knock came at the wooden door and Téa opened it to find Trotula there.

  “How is Gemma?” Téa asked.

  The woman shook her head. “Her husband only landed a couple of blows before you stopped him. I gave her a draught for the pain and she is resting now, but I fear he is far too handy with his fists for my liking.”

  “He ought to be taught a lesson,” Rick growled from behind her. “Who does this Hugh de Barbes answer to?”

  “Lord Tancred. Why?”

  “Perhaps his lord would be interested in his vassal’s cowardly ways.”

  Trotula shook her head. “I fear not. Lord Tancred’s reputation is not one of kindness to women.”

  A man, dressed in the trappings of a wealthy knight, appeared behind the medieval physician. All Téa could see was that he was tall and lean, with a scar across one cheek. “Pardon me,” the man said, “but if I might have a word with Lord Richard?”

  “Of course.” Trotula moved aside.

  The knight held his helmet under his arm and bowed slightly to Rick. “I arrived shortly after your bout, and heard tell of it in the streets. That was well done of you.”

  Looking surprised, Rick said, “Thank you.”

  “I am very intrigued by your talk of a knight’s honor and chivalry. Would you be willing to discuss it among men of like mind?”

  Rick’s face brightened…naturally. He’d often bored her with the same subject. “Of course.”

  “Excellent.” He bowed. “I am Louis of Rouen, sworn to Robert Guiscard, Duke of Apulia and Calabria. Would you and your brave wife care to be his guests at the castle for a feast tomorrow eve, at sundown?”

  Rick bowed back. “I would be honored.”

  Téa shot him an annoyed glance. He should be worried about finding the amulet, not playing knight. “Your injury…” she protested.

  “Your injury is severe, then?” Trotula asked in concern.

  “Not at all,” Rick said, and flexed his shoulder. “My…wife is merely overprotective. We’ll be at the feast.”

  Apparently taking the man’s word as the final decision despite what his supposed wife thought, Louis said, “We’ll see you at sundown,” and left.

  Téa couldn’t talk about their mission in front of Trotula, but she could make her displeasure known in another way. She elbowed Rick in the ribs. “We don’t even have a place to stay yet,” she said with a warning glance.

  “That is not a problem,” Trotula said with a smile. “The monastery here has a guesthouse with rooms for visiting physicians. If you would like…?”

  Perfect. “That would be wonderful,” Téa exclaimed. “We’ll take it.”

  Trotula smiled. “Let me see to a few things here first, then I will show you to the rooms.”

  Téa nodded and thanked her once more, then turned to Rick. “What were you thinking? We’re not here so you can play at being a knight. We’re here to find the amulet and take it back to Flagstaff.”

  “I’m not playing,” Rick bit out. “And it’s just as likely we’ll find what we’re looking for at the castle. Remember who Robert Guiscard’s wife is?”

  Of course—she’d been briefed on the local nobility. “Sichelgaita, the Lombard princess.” But was she still addressed as princess if her husband was a duke? Téa shook her head. It didn’t matter.

  “Yes, the warrior princess. All of the pieces so far have been found in the presence of powerful women. I’ll bet Sichelgaita has it.”

  “And I think it’s Trotula.”

  “This way, we cover both possibilities.”

  She sighed but didn’t argue further. “Okay, I’ll look for it here and you can go there.”

  “But you’re the only one who can sense it,” Rick reminded her. “You’ll have to come to the feast, too.”

  Yet more time spent in his company. Great. “Not if I find it here first. We can return home as soon as that happens.” The sooner, the better.

  He grimaced, but couldn’t argue with her logic. “Doesn’t this all seem a bit too convenient, finding a place to stay, two options for finding the medallions, and an invitation to a feast?”

  “I’m not going to argue without good luck. And don’t worry—something will probably go wrong very soon.” Annoyed at his pessism, Téa shrugged. “Why are they so interested in your ideas on chivalry, anyway? Don’t all knights know it?”

  “Not at this period in time,” Rick explained, his eyes lighting with eagerness. “Right about now is when the concepts of chivalry started to take root, making the world more civilized. Think about it—I could have a part in that.”

  His eyes shone with the fervor of a zealot.

  “Speaking of this period, why does everyone’s name sound French or English? Shouldn’t they be Italian?”

  “No, the Norman French conquered both England and Italy. Guiscard is Norman, and so are his mercenary knights.” He glanced down at the cloak and pin she’d tossed aside and picked up the brooch. “Is this Hugh’s?”

  “Yes, I plan to give it back to Gemma. Why?”

  He showed it to her—a fanciful silver image depicting a creature half man, half horse. “It’s a centaur,” he explained unnecessarily.

  Téa drew in a sharp breath. “You think Hugh is Centaurian?” The aliens had proven dangerous to those agents who tried to retrieve items in the past.

  “Either he, or his master,” Rick said grimly. “Did you notice him staring at my bracelet—the ESC? He was far too interested in it. I think he knows what it is.”

  Dread filled Téa. She hadn’t let herself think about people who might try to thwart their search. Now that she had… She swallowed hard. For the first time, she was actually glad Rick was here with her.

&nbs
p; CHAPTER THREE

  At Téa’s request, Trotula gave them a tour of the university, then served them a light supper and showed them to the guest rooms at the monastery. Téa suppressed a grimace. The room was little more than a square wooden box with a straw pallet on the floor. It came furnished with bedding, a chamber pot, a clothes chest and a small table with two crude wooden chairs, the whole room lit by an olive oil lamp.

  A bit primitive for her tastes, and the bed far too small, but hopefully they wouldn’t be here long.

  Once they were alone, Rick sank onto one of the chairs, his arms resting on his knees. “And you accused me of playing. What were you doing all evening? Showing off your medical knowledge?”

  Annoyed, Téa snapped, “I wasn’t showing off. I was convincing Trotula of my credentials so she’d let me stay and give me free run of the place.”

  He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, I guess it worked. I hope at least you sensed the amulet during that long tour.”

  “No, not yet,” she had to admit. “But maybe I have to actually see it in action or something to recognize it. At least now I know my way around the medical school.”

  He sighed, looking weighed down with all that mail. “Could you help me off with this stuff? I didn’t realize how heavy it would be, especially wearing it all day—most of the weight is riding on my shoulders.”

  That must be painful. “Okay, I’ll help.” She wanted to see how badly he was injured.

  Once he removed the surcoat, she couldn’t figure out how to get the hauberk off him. There were no openings or seams in the metal links and even the hood was attached. “I guess it has to come off over your head.”

  “Yep. I’ll lean over and you pull.”

  As Rick bent over, his arms extended over his head, Téa shimmied it off him as best she could, but it still took forever. Rick grunted a couple of times when she had to ease it over his injured shoulder, and she winced in sympathy.

  Rick sighed in relief once the mail was finally off. The leather shirt beneath it was much easier to remove.

  He glanced down at his shoulder. “See? Just a bruise.”

  “Let me check it,” Téa said, and reached out.

  “Gee, I didn’t know you cared,” Rick said, standing to move out of her reach.

  “I don’t,” she bit out. “But you’re my bodyguard and I want to make sure you can function properly in your role. Sit down and let me examine you.”

  Rick scowled but sat back down and she examined his shoulder, trying not to notice the way his warm skin smelled deliciously of musk and male, or how it felt to run her fingers through the coarse sprinkling of hair on his chest. You’re a professional, she reminded herself. Act like it.

  She probed the area, not feeling any lumps, thank goodness. “You’re right, it’s a bruise, but a bad one. I’d like to watch it to make sure it doesn’t develop into a hematoma. Normally, I’d recommend an ice pack, but that’s not possible here.” She paused, thinking. “You know, it’s strange, but I learned in medical school that leeches are actually quite good in helping a bruise. They get rid of the pooled blood—”

  “Forget it,” Rick said, grimacing. “You aren’t going to experiment on me with those slimy creatures.”

  Too bad. It would have been interesting. “Maybe a cold compress? I’d like to reduce the pain so it won’t limit your movement.”

  “What about your…” He made an uncertain gesture. “Reiki or whatever. Can you heal it?”

  That was one of the things she’d liked about Rick—he’d been so accepting of her healing gift. That’s why she was so baffled as to why he didn’t ask for her help with his men who experienced PTSD. “I can use Reiki on it,” she said slowly. “But to truly use my gift, I’ll need to touch you. Are you sure you want that?”

  He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can resist you.”

  “That’s not what I meant—” Téa began, then cut herself off. He was trying to punch her buttons…and succeeding all too well. “Oh, shut up and lie down.”

  He did so with an infuriating smirk.

  Téa sank down to her knees and cursed when the bulky kirtle got in her way. “Sheesh, I need to take this thing off.” She struggled with the unfamiliar clothing, but managed to get it off. There was some kind of linen shift beneath it, apparently the only thing women of this time wore for underwear. Oh, well, it covered her well enough. It wasn’t as though Rick hadn’t seen everything already, but neither of them needed the distraction.

  Kneeling beside Rick where he lay faceup on the pallet, Téa said, “What I’m about to do isn’t strictly Reiki, but the form helps me to focus and understand my healing gift. I won’t do a full session—I’ll just concentrate on the area where you’re injured.”

  “Okay.” He closed his eyes. “Just do it.”

  Téa settled more comfortably on the wooden floor, then closed her eyes for a moment to center herself. Opening her eyes and her hands, she called the healing ki and let the warm energies flow through her, cleansing her mind and spirit. Placing her hands on Rick’s bruised shoulder, she urged the ki to swirl around the injury, soothing the pain, urging the blood vessels back to normal.

  The area beneath her hands grew warm, then hot. Good—it was working. Now for the part where she differed from other Reiki masters. Closing her eyes, she visualized the flesh beneath her hands, seeing the energy work, pulling excess ki away to dissipate harmlessly in the night air, and sending energy to heal the damaged tissues to bring them back to healthy function.

  It took about half an hour, but when she felt as though she had done all she could, she opened her eyes and saw with pleasure that the bruise had completely faded. Though Reiki energized practitioners, these other energies pulled from somewhere else, somewhere deep inside her, and left her feeling pleasantly tired.

  She pulled her hands away and asked softly, “Feel better?”

  Rick’s eyelashes fluttered but he remained still for a moment. The treatment often affected patients this way, making them peaceful and relaxed. He opened his eyes and sat up, glancing down at his shoulder. “The bruise is gone,” he said in surprise. He tested his arm by rotating it through several testing motions. “So is the pain.” Glancing up, he asked, “How did you do that?”

  “I told you—I called healing energies and let them flow from me to you.”

  He turned to face her, both of them still sitting. “But I read up on Reiki when you told me about it. It’s not supposed to work this well.”

  “It doesn’t always,” Téa conceded. “I think my familiarity with your body helped—” She broke off. Best not to go there. She shifted her gaze and started over. “My gift seems to work on a different level, with different energies. Reiki helps me focus them and understand them, then provides a boost to my innate talent.”

  “No wonder they wanted you for this mission,” he said admiringly.

  She shrugged and pain in her upper back made her wince. Sitting in one position for too long would do that to a person. She rose to raise her arms and stretch.

  Uh-oh, big mistake. In the flickering lamplight, she saw Rick’s blue gaze home in on her unbound breasts as they swayed and pressed against the thin linen shift. The sudden desire in his eyes made her breasts peak, pushing toward him as if begging for his attention.

  Téa turned around swiftly, hoping he hadn’t seen her unguarded reaction in the dim light. Damn it. Intellectually, she knew he wasn’t right for her, but her body didn’t care. It still yearned for his touch, literally ached for him to pleasure her, reminding her of just how good it could be between them.

  But there was no way she was letting him know that. “Cramp,” she gasped out, trying to reach the place where it hurt.

  He clasped her shoulders and, startled, she jerked, not realizing he’d risen.

  “Relax,” he said softly behind her. “You have a cramp because of me. I’m just going to massage it out for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  She couldn’t say no whe
n she’d just done the same for him. Even more important, she didn’t want to. Feeling as though she was playing with an unexploded grenade, she nodded and closed her eyes.

  Rick used his large hands to massage her back, and she directed him to the right spot so his thumbs dug in exactly where the pain lay. She let herself relax, let him work his magic fingers on her back. He was so skillful, she wondered if he had some healing ability himself.

  No, she told herself cynically. Probably just a lot of practice, on a lot of women.

  The cynicism didn’t help distract her. The more he massaged, the more she relaxed, melting beneath his touch.

  “Lie down,” he whispered.

  She shouldn’t, but it felt really good. It was just a massage, right? She put forth a token protest. “I’m not sure—”

  “Relax. I just want to help you work out the kinks of this stressful day.”

  And he kept kneading and rubbing, pushing her gently down to the straw mattress. She let him direct her and sighed as she lay prone on the bed.

  He widened his ministrations, massaging from her neck down to her lower back. It was incredibly relaxing, yet stimulating as hell. His fingers brushed against the outer swell of her breast, lingering a moment longer than necessary, then swept down to skim the cleft of her buttocks.

  She inhaled sharply, yearning for him to slide his hand under her breast, cup the heavy fullness in his hand, to move lower, to delve between her thighs. “That feels good,” she murmured, surprising herself by saying it out loud.

  “I’m glad,” he said softly. She felt him lean forward, until his breath was hot on her neck. “Will you tell me something, Téa?” he asked, continuing to stroke her back.

  “What?” she asked, feeling almost too languid to speak.

  His hands stilled. “You used to call me your white knight. What happened to tarnish my image?”

  It was as if he’d dashed her with cold water. She couldn’t help it—she tensed, knowing he could feel it. “You know what.”

  “No, I don’t. Tell me. Let me make it right.”