Her name…something…somewhere… He shook his head in frustration. “I cannot remember…”
“That’s quite all right,” she soothed. “You have been very ill, Mr. Finn. You had typhus. But now you have recovered, physically. The emotional toll will take longer to resolve.”
He thought about that. “You call me Mr. Finn. Are we acquainted?”
She cleared her throat. “Er, yes. It was…um…well, you’re from Ireland, we think. And you were wearing a uniform. We had to call you something, so we decided on Mr. Finn.”
“I’m Irish?” He gazed at her unfathomable eyes.
She smiled again. “I believe you are, although there’s barely a hint of it in your speech. Dark hair, those long black eyelashes…blue eyes put in with dirty fingers, as my mother would have said.”
“Ah. So you live here with your family?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I live here alone, but for my housekeeper, and Dal. The man you met when you first awoke. He is my personal guardian, also my friend, and were it not for him, I would not be alive.”
“Then I must be grateful to him also,” said Finn politely.
“Indeed. He has also cared for you during your illness.”
“You said typhus,” Finn managed to pursue a line of thought. “And yet I am cured?”
She nodded. “I have some knowledge of herbs and potions, Mr. Finn. The old country ways of restoring health that have little to do with leeches or bleeding. Thankfully my medicines worked and the typhus passed without claiming another victim. But I must caution you—as yet, you are not strong. Now that you are awake, we must begin to help your body rebuild.” She tilted her head to one side. “So I will ask you a question now. What is your name?”
He froze, still held captive by those wondrous eyes. But then, as his mind tried to sort itself out, he frowned. “I…” He concentrated, trying to pierce the mists that seemed to be hiding so many things inside his head. “I—I can’tremember…”
A look of sympathy crossed her features. “’Tis all right. These things take time.”
He closed his eyes. “Why? Why have I no memories? Just blurs…the sound of guns…I was in a battle. And then…nothing. Just a sense of sorrow.”
This time, when a soft hand rested on his forehead, he didn’t mind. It was comforting and stayed there for a few moments. Amazed, he felt his frustration and fears drift away, leaving him calm.
She removed her hand and he opened his eyes. “What did you do?”
Looking away, she shrugged. “I merely hoped you might relax.”
She shifted her skirts, as if to stand, but his hand shot out and grasped her forearm. “’Twas more than that, Ma’am. Your touch changed how I felt.”
Her gaze met his, the teal blue and gold depths revealing little. “I have some healing skills, as I mentioned before. And quite often healing begins with the mind and continues on to the body.”
He continued to hold her down on her chair. “Are you a witch?”
Her chin lifted. “That is a word that can mean many things, Mr. Finn. Do I have…abilities, let’s say, that others do not? Yes, I do. They help in healing, as you know, and in how I view the world around me. They have helped in that I was able to encourage others to store food, since I sensed a very bad year ahead. That has come true, as you will soon recall, once your memories return.”
She met his gaze, without blinking. “Am I a witch? I do no harm, nor will I ever use what talents I have been blessed with to hurt anyone. I am simply a woman who has senses more finely tuned than others. I am neither unique, nor a witch. I have a large family who understands and loves me for who I am.” She removed his grasp from her sleeve. “So there it is. If you feel you are unable or unwilling to remain here at Doireann Vale during the time of your recuperation, I will ensure that you are conveyed to wherever it is you’d prefer to be. We do have a physician in the village. He might be able to recommend a place where you can receive the care you need.”
She stood, shaking out her skirts.
Finn got the strongest impression he’d hurt her feelings somehow. Which thought was magnified by the sudden arrival of a very large black cat on the bed, who stared at him from huge green-gold eyes. Finn blinked.
“Bub, get down. You’re not helping matters at all.” She frowned at him.
Finn couldn’t help but chuckle. It was rusty and short, but it was there. “Forgive me. I intended no insult.” He shot a quick look at the cat. “And if you’d reassure your familiar, here, I’d appreciate it. He looks like he’s about to see if I might be a tasty dinner.”
A musical laugh greeted his words. “This is Beelzebub. Not because he has underworld origins, but because he’s a very cheeky devil sometimes.”
Finn nodded. “I gratefully accept your hospitality, Miss Ridlington. Indeed, until my memories return, I do not know where else I could go and I have yet to learn where Iam.” He paused, curious to see that the cat had decided to sit closer, moving against his hip and settling himself on the covers. He looked back at Hecate. “My memories…theywillreturn…won’t they?”
“I hope so,” she answered. “I really hope so.”
