Time to Heal Read online

This time the head answered without the slightest hesitation.

  “There is a way to fill your breasts with milk again—milk which will turn to the healing nectar which you can then feed to your son to cure him.”

  “There is?” Emmeline exclaimed eagerly. “Tell me how—please!”

  The great copper eyes blinked.

  “After you drink the Mother’s Milk brew, you must be filled with the seed of a male. For only the essence of a male can stimulate the female magic within the plant to help fill your breasts with milk.”

  Emmeline felt as though someone had suddenly deposited a large chunk of ice in the pit of her belly.

  “I have to what?” she managed to get out at last.

  The head frowned.

  “Was I in any way unclear? After you drink the brew you must take a male’s shaft into yourself—deep into your core—and allow him to bathe the mouth of your womb with his seed. As he does, your breasts will fill with milk which will turn almost at once to healing nectar. With this nectar, you will be able to heal your son. Do you understand?”

  Emmeline felt numb.

  “I…I understand,” she managed to say at last. “I just…I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe every word I say as the absolute truth,” the giant head told her. “I have been ordered by the Goddess herself to answer your questions and I cannot lie. I have told you the one and only way to bring back your milk and use the power of the herb to cure your son. And now there is nothing more I can tell you on this subject.”

  At that point, it closed its burning copper eyes and appeared to go to sleep.

  Emmeline just stared at it. She wanted to wake it up and demand some kind of explanation or some other way to use the Mother’s Milk. But she knew, in her heart, that there was nothing more to say on this subject.

  There was only one way to save Jamie and it involved doing something she had sworn to never, ever do again.

  Sixteen

  Skahr watched the emotions cross Emmeline’s lovely face—disbelief, fear, anger, and finally acceptance—and his heart ached for her. Gods, to think that the only way she would be able to cure her son was to do something which no doubt scared her to death! It seemed too cruel to be true and yet the Mouth of Wisdom had been adamant that it was the one and only way.

  He would have to make love to her.

  Or…no, maybe not. Skahr frowned as a sudden idea occurred to him. Perhaps it would work—he could only ask and see if she would accept his offer. It was the only thing he could think of, but of course it had to be her choice.

  Looking at her, he saw that she was casting covert glances at him—her wide eyes flicking towards him and then darting away again like frightened rabbits.

  “Emmeline,” he murmured, looking down at her. “I would have you know that I stand ready to serve you in this task, but only if you wish it.”

  She bit her lip and for a moment he thought she was going to say if she wanted him or not. Then, she shook her head—a short, jerky motion that told of her anxiety and stress.

  “Let’s just…just pick the flowers,” she said stiffly. “After all, we have to find the right ones first, don’t we?”

  Skahr nodded. “I suppose we do. Let’s hurry before we lose the light.”

  For somehow it had gotten much dimmer as they spoke to the Mouth of Wisdom. He had heard it said that time flowed differently on the Hidden Hill and now they were experiencing it first hand. They had to hurry and set up camp before it was full dark.

  They canvassed the broad, flat top of the hill and found the flower the Mouth of Wisdom had been referring to. Its blossoms were a deep, purple-blue and it had hundreds of tiny petals that were spread open wide. Yet when Skahr’s fingertips brushed the velvety petals, the blossom flinched and closed tight as though to protect itself. When it did, three long pink strands emerged from the center of the bud it had formed—clearly this was the Mother’s Milk.

  “This is the one,” Skahr called to Emmeline, who was hunting a little way away from him.

  She turned and looked to where he was pointing.

  “I know—I’ve already got three of them.” She looked up at the sky, frowning. “But it’s getting dark already and most of the flowers are closing up. We have to hurry to get seven before they’re all hidden away!”

  They searched diligently and, just as twilight was falling, Skahr found the last bloom of Mother’s Milk. He plucked it and called to Emmeline, who was visibly relieved. Skahr gave her the flowers and refrained from asking what her decision was. Though he longed greatly to give her pleasure and to Claim her as his own, he knew it had to be her choice and he didn’t want to rush her. She would tell him soon enough what she wanted to do.

  Instead of talking, he got busy making camp. He decided to set up under the lone tree’s vast, spreading branches for safety and shelter but he placed their camp to the back of the Mouth of Wisdom for privacy. Not that he thought the thing would come to life again without a direct query or command from Emmeline. It was bound by the Goddess to answer her questions but his sense was that it wasn’t very happy with that arrangement—it only wanted to sleep and dream and not be bothered.

  Very well, we won’t bother it then, Skahr told himself as he made the fire and pulled out his water skin, a pot to boil in, and the rest of the yarroy wafers. It had been a long time since breakfast and they had to eat. Both he and Emmeline needed their strength to do what must be done—if she chose to do it.

  If she chooses it, let me make it good for her, Skahr thought. It was half wish, half prayer. Let me bring her pleasure and delight, not pain. Let me help her overcome her clouded past and reach the peak. Please!

  Then he sat beside the fire and waited. Everything was up to Emmeline now. He could only do as she wished. He could only help her if she was willing to take his help.

  Skahr only hoped she would.

  Emmeline sat beside the fire and looked at the bright pink liquid which had been brewed in Skahr’s little cooking pot. This time he’d had no need to re-size it magically. The pot in its miniature form was the perfect size to boil a single cup of water with the twenty-one long pink stems from the seven Mother’s Milk blossoms.

  And now the mixture was brewed and cooled and Emmeline had to make a choice.

  But really, there was no choice at all and she knew it. She had told Skahr before that she would brave any danger, face any peril to save her son and she had meant it with her whole heart. She would do anything to save Jamie.

  I just didn’t think I’d have to do this, she thought, looking surreptitiously at the big warrior as he sat by the fire.

  She’d been putting off speaking to him as they ate their meager but filling supper of yarroy wafers. Emmeline had barely noticed their sweet, nutty crunch as she chewed mechanically. She was trying to nerve herself up to do this—or rather, to let Skahr do it to her—but now she knew she was out of time. The Mother’s Milk brew had cooled and was ready to drink.

  It was now or never.

  Maybe it won’t be so bad, she told herself nervously, her heart thumping. Maybe it will be different than it was when Torrington did it to me.

  But she didn’t even want to think about that. Didn’t want to remember the way he had pushed her down and—

  No! Emmeline told herself fiercely. You’ll never get through this if you let yourself think of the last time. You just have to go ahead and get it over with. Just do it once and then it will be done and you can save Jamie. Keep your mind on that and only that! Do it Emmeline—do it now!

  Seizing the little pot, which sat beside her on the grass, she put it to her lips and downed the contents in one gulp. The cooled liquid tasted like honey and vanilla and cinnamon with just a hint of a bitter aftertaste—like medicine that has been disguised with sweeteners to make it palatable. It was actually very nice but Emmeline barely noticed it.

  Putting down the pot, she turned to Skahr before she could lose her nerve.

  “Skahr, please,” she