But that would have been a younger self in another time. A less tried, greener self.
It wasn’t here and now, where he embodied the totality of all of his experiences.
When the beauty of the spirit had come to mean so much more to him than the beauty of the body.
Where he knew a multitude of sorrows and reasons to be wary, and yet he still felt this slow burning, excruciating build-up of need.
Naida had caused him a vicious hurt precisely because he had loved her, but he had never felt anything for her that was remotely like what he was coming to feel for Xanthe. He and Naida had gone through a considered courtship, discussed together the advantages of a partnership together and had come to a mutual agreement. Everything had been very much in character, laid out, predictable.
At the time he thought it had been so very civilized, their relationship solidly grounded in friendship. Really, nothing could compare to the shock of a civilized man who came face to face with his own barbarity.
The smell of cooking steak wafted out of the cottage, and his stomach growled. His appetite for food had come back with a vengeance. It was a solid metaphor, as his appetite for other things had now resurfaced. He had sustained two serious injuries, one spiritual and the other physical, and it appeared that he would end up surviving them both after all.
As for the quiet, reserved Xanthe—he could see nothing to hold him back from going after what he now acknowledged that he wanted. He no longer had any ties or previous commitments. He was free to act on whatever he desired.
Now it was time for his own hunting season.
When she saw him step into the cottage carrying the water bucket, she rushed at him from the hearth, scolding. “You should not be carrying something that heavy so soon!”
He smiled and tilted the bucket slightly to show her the contents. “You are such a ferocious mother hen. It’s only half full. I said I would help and I mean to do it. I’ll draw all the water for the supper dishes. It will take me twice as long, but that is quite all right as there are no urgent appointments this evening.”
After glancing into the bucket, she looked up at him somewhat shamefaced. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself any further.”
“I appreciate that,” he said, warmed by the evidence of her caring. Deliberately, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, a full, firm, yet brief caress. All too soon, he pulled away. The sensation of her lips, softened in surprise, was branded on his mouth.
She stood absolutely still, her lovely dark eyes very wide.
He would not smile. It might reveal too much triumph. He sidestepped neatly around her and went to the basin to pour water into it. Then he went outside again. By the time he returned, she had hunched over the grilling steaks and she did not look up.
He made three more trips to the well before she set the steaming steaks on the table, and he surveyed the results of his effort with satisfaction. He had drawn plenty of water for the evening dishes. Then he turned to the table. She had created a salad of greens, fresh vegetables, apples and berries, lightly dressed with oil and herbs, to accompany the steaming sweet potatoes and steak.
She also looked exceedingly spooked.
This would have to be a gentle hunt, or his prey might skedaddle.
As he took his seat at the table, he said gravely, “Thank you for another wonderful meal.”
Unaccountably, she flushed as she sat as well. “I do not know how to cook the complex delicacies you are no doubt used to eating.”
He kept his gaze on the contents of his plate. “Do not confuse what you imagine my lifestyle must be with what you witness at the palace. I much prefer meals like this on a daily basis.” He sensed rather than saw her relax a little. They ate in silence. Now that he had turned the corner, he could almost feel the return of health and vigor with every bite of the healthy fare. As he finished, he said, “I would like to take advantage of that bathing alcove this evening, if I might.”
She said quickly, “Of course. I’ll draw water and put it on to heat while I do the dishes.” She glanced up at him and then away, her gaze skittering off like a frightened mouse. “You will carry some scarring from those wounds. It will be good for you to soak in a hot tub with a little oil poured in the water.”
He nodded. He would fetch his own bath water if he could, but he had already reached his limit. “If you would be kind enough to draw the water, I will wash the dishes—no, I do not want to hear it, Xanthe.” He added that last in a stern, no nonsense voice as she began to speak. “We have already agreed upon this.”
She closed her mouth with an audible click of her teeth. After a moment, she muttered, “Agreeing in theory and watching it in practice are two different things.”
He said in a very gentle voice, “But you would not deny me anything that is good for me, would you?”