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to
ask for some tea for our mum.” Geoffrey said.
    “Our sister’s
ill.” John added.
    “Ah,” I said. I
wondered what the sister’s “illness” was. Merrick’s customers tended to decline
Joseph’s delivery services when private matters were involved. “Well, perhaps
you had better work on your manners between here and the door. Farewell.”
    “Fare thee well,”
they chimed, clearly unbothered by my admonishment, and prodded their horses
on.
    I left them behind
with a sigh.
    In the meadow by
the stream I dug dandelion after dandelion, careful not to break the roots as I
pulled them from the soft ground and laid them in the basket. The day was damp
and moody, with fat wet clouds passing over the gentle sun every few minutes
and casting a shadow over everything.
    By the time my
basket was overflowing, I had given myself a stern lecture. I was determined to
defeat my soggy mood and head back to the cottage with my back straight and my
mind fresh.
    There was just no
use moping about such mishaps!
    At the end of each
day, I was still just a poor book-peddling dandy who’d been stupid enough to
get caught on the wrong side of the law and was lucky enough to avoid jail or
worse.
    So what if I was
now apprenticed to a witch in the backwoods? So what if I was experiencing a
bit of confusion in my loins at the moment? Things could have been much worse
and I damned well knew it.
    Thick clouds had
blocked out the sun entirely by the time I started to leave the pasture. Then,
as if God wanted to challenge my determination to make the best of things,
there was a sudden flash in the sky followed by a crack of thunder. The rain
that came pouring down was monstrously heavy, and I set off back to Merrick’s
at a run.
     
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    I was a muddy mess
by the time I reached the door. I set the basket down under the eaves and
started for the lean-to to strip and wash, but Merrick opened the door as I was
turning.
    “You mustn’t stay
out here cold and wet,” he said.
    “I thought I’d
just clean off a bit,” I said, shaking my wet hair from my eyes.
    Merrick lifted the
hem of his robe and stepped outside into the rain, putting a hand on my back
and pressing me toward the lean-to. He latched the door and hung his lantern,
then quickly removed his cloak and hung it on a peg near the stove. “Take off
your clothes,” he said, stoking the coals near the tub of water.
    I stood frozen in
place. It was dim in the shelter, but still much brighter than the bedroom had
been when I had lit a match and glimpsed Merrick without his robe. He was
dressed much like me, in boots and breeches with a simple white shirt, and his
short black hair fell in silky tendrils about his temples and the nape of his
neck.
    Most importantly,
his beauty was stunning in the glow of the coals and the lantern, and the gray
cloud light that seeped in through a few cracks in the walls of the lean-to.
His skin was firm and taut, and his garments clung loosely to a graceful,
muscular body that looked as young and robust as any I’d ever seen.
    For God’s sake!
Was he not clearly a young man? Did that not change everything?
    With Merrick, I
thought I had recognized all the qualities I attached to an old master: calm
and patient as a result of his many years on earth, humbled by wrinkled skin
and creaking bones, and pleased to pass his knowledge on to a willing
successor. Being as young and unlearned as he was old and wise, it was only
natural that I had deferred to him.
    In fact, deep
down, I was glad for it; for having ever lacked a father of my own, I had
always held a tender place in my heart for the attention of any man who took
the trouble to teach me anything, from the old drunk who’d taught me cards at
the tavern where my mother worked to the aged book collectors who first told me
about their favorite items.
    Really, it was no
surprise that Merrick had charmed me, with his air of age and wisdom, his
patient, paternal manner, and – not