The Healer's Passion Page 3

  “You can’t.” Not without a time machine, and she doubted the Anasazi project would let him use it for that reason.

  “It has something to do with Grant and Jameson, doesn’t it?”

  Why was he playing dumb? “You know it does,” she bit out, and rolled over to look into his eyes.

  He seemed puzzled. “I don’t understand. I didn’t kill them. They killed themselves.”

  “But you did nothing to stop them,” she reminded him. She searched his gaze, hoping for some sign of remorse, some reason to put the knight back on his white charger.

  “How could I? I didn’t know what they planned.”

  “You had the training. You should have seen the signs.”

  He shook his head, his mouth firming into a line. “No—”

  She didn’t let him finish. “You should have brought them to me. I could have helped them.”

  “How?” he asked, his expression hard. “There are things you don’t know, Téa, things that I can’t tell you.”

  “Oh, bull. What does it matter in the case of a life—two lives? You know I specialize in treating PTSD. I could have helped them. I could have prevented those suicides. Doesn’t your soldier’s creed say ‘never leave a fallen comrade’? How could you let them suffer?”

  He shook his head, looking stubborn. “You don’t understand. They weren’t suffering from PTSD.”

  “How do you know? Are you qualified to diagnose it?” Téa asked incredulously.

  He shook his head again. “This is getting us nowhere. I promise you, I had reasons for not referring them to you. Good ones. But I can’t tell you what they are. You have to trust me.”

  Too convenient, but she’d been burned before. “How can I trust someone who won’t tell me the whole truth?”

  His face tightened into an unreadable mask. “You could if you really loved me. I guess you never did.”

  Oh, no, he was not going there. She’d loved him all right. “There can be no love without trust,” she said in a flat tone. She wouldn’t allow it.

  She turned her back to him on the mattress. “Go to sleep, Rick. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” And the sooner they completed their mission and she could escape from Captain Rick Walters, the better off she’d be.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning, Rick woke in a sweat, his heart pounding. He leaped to his feet, ready for battle, then realized the fight-or-flight feeling was caused by nothing more than another nightmare. He ran a hand over his face, wondering when he’d ever stop reliving that last firefight in Iraq.

  Sinking onto a chair as his heart rate returned to normal, he glanced over at Téa, who was curled up into a tight ball as far from him as she could get. Even in her sleep, she shied away from him.

  Last night, he’d hoped to find a way to make it right between them, but she was too darned stubborn. Why couldn’t she trust him enough to believe in him? Even without all the facts, she should know him well enough to realize that he would never do anything less than honorable. He hadn’t broken the Warrior’s Creed—the two privates had.

  He sighed. Something inside him wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t quit until he convinced her she was wrong about him.

  Téa stirred, stretching, and her breasts pressed against her thin linen shift. Rick told himself to avert his eyes, ignore it, forget what they had once meant to each other. But his gaze kept straying back, and he toyed with the notion of curling up behind her, stroking her soft curves and taking them both back to a time when things were simpler, much more basic and primal.

  A knock came at the door and Rick wrenched his gaze away from Téa to answer it. A boy stood there, probably one of those studying to be a priest. He looked up at Rick with awe. “Begging your pardon, sir.” He held out a bowl of water and some cloths.

  Ah, good. “Thank you,” he said, and helped the boy place the items on a small table.

  Téa sat up and blinked at them, yawning.

  The boy turned red, and hastily moved his gaze from Téa to Rick. “If you wish to break your fast, there is a light repast served in the dining room.”

  Rick nodded, remembering it from the night before. “And the public baths?”

  The boy gave them directions, then left.

  As Téa struggled with getting dressed, Rick turned his back to give her privacy and took stock of what supplies had arrived with them. A couple of changes of clothing, travel food, Byzantine coins of the period and other odds and ends. He put most of it in the chest, and Téa laid out the finery they’d need to wear to the feast as he dressed.

  “I’m not sure how long we’ll be here,” he told Téa, “so I should probably find work in case the money doesn’t hold out.”

  Téa nodded. “Or maybe the hospital can use another doctor.”

  Good point. “Okay, while you’re looking for the amulet, I’ll scout around and see if I can find out anything in town about Lord Tancred, see if he’s Centaurian or not.” Better to know your enemy than be left in doubt.

  Téa nodded and they made arrangements to meet before the feast, then Rick left, intent on the mission.

  After Rick was gone, Téa took a quick sponge bath and headed off to breakfast, then spent the day with Trotula. Since many of the men who visited the university hospital were fresh from the battle at Salerno—and had probably been fighting most of their lives—most experienced post-traumatic stress in addition to their injuries, though it hadn’t been identified in this time.

  There were so many wounds, so much damage—physical and mental. Téa wanted to help, but didn’t want to be accused of being a witch by using her gift, so she concentrated on doing what she could to help them deal with the mental stress.

  Pretending to be devout, she laid her hands on their heads and acted as if she were praying over them, though she actually used healing Reiki.

  After a long, depressing day spent among the victims of war, she returned to the room to find Rick there, studying maps.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Afraid not. I made excuses to visit every part of the hospital and university I could, but I didn’t sense the amulet anywhere. And when I hinted at some powerful talisman that might help with the healing, everyone looked at me like I was crazy. How about you? Any luck?”

  “Well, I haven’t found work yet, but I did learn more about Lord Tancred. Everything people say about him makes him sound like a real horse’s ass.” When Téa grimaced at the pun, Rick continued, “But the real clincher was what I learned in the baths. The rumor is that Lord Tancred takes his privately because he doesn’t want to answer questions about a strip of hair running from the base of his neck down his spine.”

  Centaurians had a vestigial mane running down their backs. “So Lord Tancred is Centaurian?”

  Rick nodded. “He may even be Kentar himself.”

  Maybe. “If so, he has sure shown up in a lot of time periods. Other teams had problems with him, remember?”

  “That’s because whenever the Centaurians sense an energy anomoly like what brought us here, they can transport to any time they want…and Lord Tancred just arrived back in town. How much you want to bet that Kentar is Tancred in disguise?”

  Téa shook her head. She wouldn’t take that bet. “You’re probably right.”

  “Sundown will be in about an hour. Shouldn’t we get dressed?”

  “Yes, and Trotula said she’d send some girls to help.” A knock came at the door and Téa said, “That must be them now.”

  Rick opened the door, took one look at the three giggling girls and grinned. They swooped Téa and her clothes up, then hurried her off to the monastery’s baths where they helped her bathe, dress and brush her hair until it shone. Apparently, the fashion was to wear it long now with a band across the brow.

  When she arrived back at the room with the girls, Rick was already in his festive wear, and the three giggling girls watched him avidly, obviously hoping for praise for all their hard work. “Isn’t your wife beautiful?�
�� one of them prompted.

  Rick grinned and leaned down to kiss her cheek for the audience. “Very sexy,” he murmured with a grin.

  “Very funny,” she gritted back. The white underdress with the long drooping sleeves was covered by a red kirtle and a golden girdle, and with the long trailing head scarf and soft leather boots, she was completely covered from head to toe. Nothing sexy about it. Not that she wanted to look sexy, of course.

  “Trotula has loaned us a cart and horse,” Rick said, “and I have directions to the castle. Are you ready, milady?” He held out his arm for her.

  Conscious of their audience, she took it and let him help her to the cart.

  After a rather jouncy ride to the castle, Téa was happy to get out. The chamberlain greeted them and led them to the table in the great hall where the feast was to be held. Surprisingly, Téa noted they were seated quite close to the head table, which was raised on a dais above the rest. Louis presented them to Duke Robert Guiscard, and his duchess, Sichelgaita.

  Guiscard was a dark, burly man, seeming larger than life. His wife was even more impressive—tall, muscular, with long blond hair, she reminded Téa of a Valkyrie. They were far more humble and ordinary than Téa had expected, though still richly dressed.

  Unfortunately, Lord Tancred was there, too. He displayed all the arrogance she’d expected. A broad-shouldered man with dark hair and piercing eyes, he sat close enough for her to tell he had terrible table manners.

  The food was better than Téa had expected, though very rich and strangely spiced for her palate. The wine was plentiful, though thankfully watered down. Even so, she felt a little light-headed after all the toasts.

  When all the food had been removed and the wine remained, the duke raised his cup toward Rick. “So, Lord Richard, I hear tell you are a proponent of a new code of conduct for knights and nobles. Please, tell us more.”

  Téa suppressed a grin. Apparently, Rick was to be the entertainment for the evening.

  “The concept is not new with me,” Rick protested. “It has its roots in the Peace of God declaration called for by the church.”

  “Go on,” the duke said. “How does this apply to us?”

  Téa squeezed Rick’s arm in warning, hoping he’d be wise enough not to anger the most powerful man in these parts.

  Rick raised his cup to the duke. “Your nobles are the elite of the aristocracy, your knights the backbone and leadership of your military might. When the church called for warriors to cease attacking women, peasants, merchants and holy men, they were calling for a new era in which enlightened men such as yourself see the value in practicing virtue, humility and kindness.”

  Téa relaxed. It was always good to start with flattering your hosts.

  “Paugh,” Lord Tancred exclaimed, scowling. “It’s all nonsense, pap for foolish women.”

  Sichelgaita stood to her full, formidable height and looked down her nose at Lord Tancred. “Would you call me foolish, sir?”

  The air in the hall grew tense as the Centaurian glowered for a few breath-stealing moments. He probably thought so, but he wasn’t dumb enough to say it out loud. “Of course not, milady.”

  The princess nodded and resumed her seat. “I would like to hear more, Lord Richard. Tell us of this chivalry.”

  “I’d be happy to. Lord Tancred, I may not have made myself clear. Above all, a knight has honor. What honor is there in striking the unarmed, the helpless or those much weaker than you? Only a coward would do so.”

  Téa watched as Rick continued to speak articulately and passionately of the virtues of the chivalric code. His zeal seemed to strike a chord with many of the men and women present, and they listened avidly. He impressed the men with stories of honorable duels, and the women with tales of courtly love, then concluded by urging all knights and nobles present to embrace the precepts of chivalry.

  Téa was reminded of the man she’d fallen in love with, and wondered how he could spout such wonderful things, then turn around and refuse to give his own men the help they needed. It didn’t add up. Was it possible she’d been wrong about him? If so, why hadn’t he defended his actions?

  The hall erupted in discussion, most of them favorable, though a few such as Lord Tancred pooh-poohed the ideas. “Are you sure you are not a woman in disguise?” He sneered at Rick.

  Rick tensed and started to rise. “Don’t,” she whispered. “He’s trying to provoke a fight.” She raised her voice so the entire hall could hear. “Oh, no, sir. As his wife, I assure you, I have cause to know he is very much a man.” She let her coy gaze shift to below Rick’s waist, then widened her eyes and mouth in awe to fit the ribald humor of the day.

  The men guffawed and Téa relaxed. Good—she’d released some of the tension in the room.

  Robert Guiscard rose and boomed, “Lord Tancred, not all women are weak and powerless. Have you not heard of my wife’s exploits in battle?” He turned toward a young man at the back of the hall. “Go, fetch my wife’s shield and spear. She shall give a demonstration.”

  As the young man ran off, Sichelgaita tried to protest, but the duke wouldn’t hear it. “Show them how you ride beside me into battle,” he urged.

  The young man arrived with her kite-shaped shield and spear, and Sichelgaita took them reluctantly.

  Téa felt a sudden magnetic pull, a sense of something mystical in her presence. The amulet! She gasped.

  “What is it?” Rick asked quietly as everyone else urged the warrior princess to demonstrate her skills.

  “There—on her shield. Do you see that odd-shaped bronze piece lashed to the center?”

  He nodded.

  “I can feel it. It’s a piece of the medallion.” With such a powerful talisman, it was no wonder the princess was able to fight so well. “We have to find some way to get it.”

  Nodding decisively, Rick made his way to the circle of knights and nobles surrounding Sichelgaita. Téa followed him, wondering what he had in mind.

  As one man pretended to be Sichelgaita’s horse, another played at engaging her in battle, “dying” heroically when she jabbed him with her spear.

  Cheers rang out and Rick pushed forward, dropping to one knee before Sichelgaita and placing both hands over his heart. “Fair lady, your courage and prowess inspire me. Please, I pray you allow me to be your personal guard and champion, safeguarding you from all who might try to harm you.”

  A bit overdramatic, but certainly effective, judging by everyone’s expressions. How could any woman resist him?

  Sichelgaita laughed, flushed with wine and amusement, looking every inch the noble warrior princess. “What need have I of a personal guard?”

  “None,” Rick admitted, then spread his arms wide, looking downcast. “But I would be your shield and spear against all comers, or gladly serve by your side in any capacity you wish.”

  Robert Guiscard laughed and clapped Rick on the shoulder. “Rise, Lord Richard, and—”

  “Hold,” Lord Tancred bellowed as Rick rose, then pushed his way forward. “If anyone is to be her champion, it should be someone who has proven himself in battle, not a mere teller of tall tales.” He sneered at Rick again, then made a sweeping gesture and bowed to the princess. “You need look no further to find your champion. I am the better man. I will be your shield and spear.”

  Looking amused, Sichelgaita said, “It seems I must need a champion, after all, if two such brave men deem it so. What would you two say to…a duel?”

  Oh, no. Rick’s stories were about to get him into serious trouble. How could Téa stop this?

  “A duel of honor,” one of the men cried with glee.

  Others took up the cry and Téa grimaced. Now there was no way Rick could refuse. Not that he wanted to, the macho idiot.

  He stood, looking solemn, and bowed to the warrior princess. “I would be honored.”

  “And what prize to the victor?” Guiscard asked.

  A number of ideas were thrown out, but Téa called out, “I have the per
fect answer.” When everyone turned to look at her, she tried to match Sichelgaita’s amused expression. “With a champion by her side, Her Highness will have no more need of her shield and spear. They must be the prize.”

  “So be it,” Sichelgaita said, raising her spear aloft. “Who will act as Lord Richard’s second?”

  “I will,” Louis called out.

  “Hugh de Barbes will act for me,” Lord Tancred all but growled.

  “Excellent,” Guiscard said, rubbing his hands and grinning. “The duel shall take place on the morrow, in this very hall at noon.”

  Téa gulped as realization struck her. If Rick won, they would have the amulet, but if he lost, it would fall into the hands of the enemy. Worse, Rick might be injured or dead.

  Good Lord, what had she just done?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  All the way back to the monastery, Rick waited for Téa to yell at him. But she was uncharacteristically silent. What was going through her head? He thought he knew her, but he’d never seen her like this.

  When he closed the door to their room and lit the lamp, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Rick couldn’t take it any longer. “Okay, Téa, I know you’re dying to tell me how much I screwed up. Let me have it.”

  “You?” she said, turning to face him with an incredulous look. “You didn’t screw up, I did. I know the duel wasn’t your idea.”

  “No,” he agreed ruefully, “but I did unintentionally set it up. Stupid.”

  “And I’m the one who suggested the amulet as the prize,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Talk about stupid.” She shook her head, rubbing her temples. “I never should have had so much wine.”

  “I thought it was brilliant—the best way to get the amulet.”

  “Brilliant?” she repeated in disgust. “You realize that if Tancred—Kentar—wins, he’ll have the amulet and Project Anasazi will be defunct?”

  Mission failure was not an option. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t doubt your prowess on a modern battlefield, but how experienced are you with swords? The men here use them every day. How can you possibly match their level of skill?”