Simone Bern - Healer's Price.pdf - Exotika - kiten1

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Healer’s Price

ISBN 9781419914966

Edited by Ann Leveille.

Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication March 2008

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in

part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,

Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal

punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

H EALER ’ S P RICE

Simone Bern

Chapter One

Tarianna stared out the window at the sheets of drenching rain, trying to determine

the boundary where the water from the sky met the dull gray mass of the ocean. She

did not mind storms, when the wind lashed the mingled waters of rain and sea against

her windows like a flailing whip. There was excitement and beauty in that wild,

passionate energy. But these sodden, bleak days hammered away at her spirits and

made her yearn for the endless sunshine and verdant fields of home.

“It’s early yet,” a voice rumbled from behind her. “Come back to bed.”

She shook her head and pulled the silk robe tighter around herself. “No. I want to

go see Greggor and then walk into town. There are healings calling out to me.”

Tarianna felt strong arms pull her back against a compact, powerful body.

“Good. I like it when you come to me hungry,” he said, nuzzling her shoulder

where the green silk had slipped off and bared a patch of skin.

Hot lust, tempered only by the sort of possessive affection one might show a prized

animal, surged through her inner sense at the touch of his lips. A hand slipped beneath

the thin fabric and caressed her left breast. She stiffened. When her reserves of power

were drained by a day of healing that blunt emotional offering was acceptable. Now it

offended her almost past enduring.

“Enough, Blaine,” she snapped. “I have work to do.”

He grunted and released her with obvious reluctance. Tarianna sat down at her

vanity table and began to brush out her long brown hair. She watched in the mirror as

he found his clothing among the items scattered across the floor. It wasn’t until he

finally sauntered out of the room that the tension in her shoulders eased.

She looked into her own solemn blue eyes. She’d paled somewhat during the last

five months but there was still a patina of gold warming her skin. It was a young face,

Healer’s Price

unmarred by time yet somehow worn. Tarianna sighed and continued to worry at her

hair. The wavy strands had become knotted during the night and she winced once or

twice as she forced the brush through. Having conquered the tangles with rough

efficiency, she braided her hair into a single thick rope and tied it with a ribbon.

Tarianna dressed with the disinterested swiftness of a woman who did not care

whether the chosen articles enhanced or detracted from her beauty. A simple tunic was

pulled over loose matching pants. The clothing was plain but made of the softest linen

and expensively dyed in a deep blue. This merchant family was dripping in wealth and

even her most extravagant expenses were barely acknowledged.

Her new contract placed Tarianna in an unusual position. In most cases healers

were hired by towns or countries and used their gifts to address the serious diseases

and injuries within a large population. However this contract was with one family, to

ease the symptoms of a specific young man. After fulfilling that obligation, she was, of

course, free to offer her services to others. Still, it seemed wrong to give priority to one

man. The fact that her own wishes had grown to support such preferential treatment for

her client only made the nagging guilt stronger.

Tarianna left her room and walked down the steep, tight staircase to the second

floor. She hesitated, considered visiting Greggor immediately and decided she was too

hungry. Another cramped staircase took her to the ground floor and the dining room.

Everything in this house seemed pushed in to her. It was as if the building had been

squashed between a giant’s hands. The house was four stories high, with so many

rooms she still did not know them all, yet there was a lack of openness that oppressed

her. Tarianna admitted that it could be the people rather than the house that created

that smothered feeling.

“Good morning, Healer.” An older woman in an elegant gray suit smiled politely

from across the broad dining table.

“Good morning, Trader Joslin.”

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