The Marriage Cure by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy Read Free Book Online Page B

enough to slow the swirling brilliance that threatened to suck him under . He could feel his heart banging like a drum at a ceildh and the shirt he wore felt damp with sweat.
    He shut his eyes, willed himself not to lose consciousness . When he heard footfalls in the leaves, he opened them . Sabetha walked out of the woods, her dress dirty down one side, with the huge rifle on one arm, a large turkey in the other . She beamed, proud of her prize, whole, and sound, not hurt or in danger at all . Tears burned his eyes at the reprieve but then anger, righteous rage, took its’ place.
    â€œ Bean, why did ye scream like a bean sidhe ? Ye dragged me from my sickbed, thinking that ye were hurt or dying . Have ye no care? Are ye mad? Ye scared me, woman.”
    He ranted at her, venting the fear that gripped him . Her grin faded and he thought for a moment she would rage at him but instead, she smiled.
    â€œAh, Johnny, I fell down the hill, ‘tis all and it startled me . I didn’t know ye would hear me but no harm done, just mud on my dress . Ye are the one who is mad, barely out of a fever, chasing out the door with knife in hand . If I’d not come back now, ye’d be lying in the woods yerself.”
    She had a point, he thought but his desire to save her from danger outweighed his common sense . He would not be able to stand much longer and now a headache pounded , familiar and frightening . He covered his face with both hands, as if that could will the pain out of his head . Bright pinpoints of light danced behind his closed eyelids, a sign he would faint soon .
    Sabetha must have put down both the rifle and the bird because she touched his hair, stroked it back with gentle fingers, and felt his forehead above his hands, checking for fever.
    Johnny lowered his hands, which trembled, and said, surprising himself.
    â€œKiss me.”
    It was not what he planned to say , but he meant it and wanted it . Her blue, blue eyes looked into his as she touched her lips to his, a mere whisper of a kiss . That was not enough , so he pressed his mouth over hers, her lips sweet against his . Her hands fastened onto him as he swayed, about to collapse but he could not stop kissing her, would not give up the fire and power that charged through his veins . He chose life over death days ago but this kiss, this physical contact reaffirmed it . When he pulled back so he would not faint, there was no need for words, no explanations necessary, and no declarations of love spoken . He knew and so did Sabetha.
    â€œYe’re feeling better, then, mo chroi .” It was not a question.
    He smiled, felt his lips stretch wide with joy, a rich emotion he had almost forgotten . He had n't known happiness for a very long time.
    â€œAye, I am, save for a h eadache fit to split my skull.”
    Sabetha smiled, too, and took his hand. “Come back inside and I’ll brew ye willow bark tea . Ye did too much but don’t fret – you’re not sick again .”
    How did she know, he wondered, that he was afraid his headache portended more illness? He did not know but walked back inside with her help, still smiling . Sabetha would have put him to bed but he insisted on the rocker so she moved it near the hearth . He waited for the willow bark tea with a blanket draped over his shoulders, watching her work . Her deft hands crumbled the bark, steeped it with boiling water always kept on the hob, and put it aside .
    While it steeped, she dressed the turkey, plucked the feathers, and readied it for the pot with some sage, an onion, and a bit of salt . By then, the tea was ready and he drank it, holding the cup with both hands . His headache ebbed and although he ached to the bone, weary, he would not lie down . Johnny sat with her as the turkey cooked, watched her boiling pots while she ventured outside to tend the garden and the corn, and ate supper before he would go to bed . The turkey tasted sweet, as if the bird had been