Treasure by Hoffman W. A

Author:Hoffman, W. A. [Hoffman, W. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2013-01-07T10:45:40+00:00

274

W.A. Hoffman

Raised By Wolves - Treasure

275

She started, and turned to him with a frown.

“He is a physician,” I supplied.

“Aye,” she told Gaston.

“How is it used?” he asked.

Her frown became perplexed, and then she crossed her arms. “Are you going to buy it?”

“Aye,” Gaston said with annoyance. “And what other concoctions do you recommend to ease a woman in childbirth, and why?” She regarded him in perplexed silence for a moment before looking at me askance and coloring ever so slightly. “I must apologize. When you said you wished for him to learn of women, I misunderstood.” I smiled.

We were soon seated at the table with wine, while she taught Gaston a great deal about what herbs treated various women’s ailments. I soon began to think waiting in the tavern around the corner might be a good idea.

When we at last departed, she had more coin than I imagined she usually earned in a night, and we had oilcloth-wrapped packages of assorted roots and leaves. We ran home through the rain in silence. It was too dark for me to read his expression, and he did not seem to want to gaze upon me.

We found everyone had retired for the night, and whether Striker and Pete had returned I did not know. Gaston led us into Sarah’s office, and found paper and quill to make notes and labels for his purchases. He ignored me, so while he was thus engaged, I slipped upstairs and peered at Vivian’s door. There was light showing through the slats. I knocked quietly and received no answer, so I opened the door a little until I could spy her sleeping in her bed. I waited until I was sure she was indeed sleeping and not merely pretending to do so. With a sigh of relief, I closed the door.

There was light streaming from Christine’s room as well, and I wondered if she could not sleep or if she also felt the need to sleep with a lamp.

Gaston had not completed his notes by the time I returned, so I sat in the other chair and waited.

At last he stopped his furious scribbling. He pushed the packages around on the desk a bit and fiddled with the quill. “I cannot,” he said at last without looking at me.

“With her perhaps,” I said. “I was not pleased with her, either.” He shook his head. “Non, her terms were unacceptable, but… It was not that alone.”

I smiled. “She was not as arousing as Christine could be even to the dead, so do not…”

“Non,” he said quickly. “It was not her. The thought of… entering her… I… my cock found interest even in that with her. But…” He snapped the quill he had been fidgeting with in an accidental nervous gesture, and gazed at it forlornly.

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