“I’ve come across this before. Men do not want to feel inferior to women, so they push aside their aches and lie about their condition. And then they die, or sometimes have a leg cut off.”
“How long have you been a physician?”
A grin touched her lips as she removed a cloth from a cut on his arm. “I’m not a physician. My husband was.”
He held his arm out for her. “Was? Where is he now? Perhaps he can treat me.”
Mercy sat back on her heels. “I should be insulted, but I’m not. I’m sure Dean would have treated you if he could. He passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mercy nodded. “You and the entire village, I’m sure.”
Richard scowled. “I meant no disrespect.”
She shook her head and dabbed at the cut. “I learned a lot from him, but I’m no physician. Still, I’m the best the village has. I have taken his place in their eyes.” She sat back without replacing the cloth.
“How long ago did he die?”
“Two years. He fell ill and never recovered. But you are avoiding the question. How is your head?”
“It hurts at times. But it is nothing I cannot endure.”
Mercy grinned. “I’m sure.” Her smile faded. “Have you remembered anything further?”
He shook his head. “No. I try, but I can’t.”
“Do you remember anything? Your name? Where you came from?”
“Sometimes I feel as if it is just there, behind the fog, but I can’t find it. Have you ever forgotten a word? It’s like that. I know it, but I can’t…seem to find it.”
“Relax,” she said softly. “It will come back. But until then, we must call you something.”
“Eoos.” The word came to him and he didn’t know from where and he didn’t know if that was his name or not. But it was familiar.
“Eoos?” Mercy repeated, baffled.
He nodded. Yes. The word was so familiar that it must be his name.
“Eoos,” she seemed to roll the word around as if tasting it. Then, nodded. She lifted her gaze to his. A ray of sunlight splashed across her eyes making them sparkle. She was beautiful, he suddenly realized, and was shocked by his realization.
She leaned forward and brushed her fingers against one of the bruises on his stomach.
He jumped as tingles danced through his torso.
“Does that hurt?”
He shook his head. No. It did not hurt at all. Her touch was like magic, strangely sensual. Calming and arousing at the same time. As she continued touching him, he cleared his throat. He needed to get his mind off her closeness, her very alluring smell. “Do you know anything about my past? Who I am or whenst I come?”
She moved her fingers to another bruise, tenderly pressing against it. “I know of no man named Eoos.”
He had thought that perchance he had come from Goodmont, but apparently that was not the case. “Do you know anything of me?”
“I know you were beaten at the inn.”
“Do you know why?”
Her concentration centered on his stomach, perhaps too much so. She leaned in close to peel a cloth from one of the cuts on his torso.
