sense, but did not have herself. It was that same something he felt was missing in Faye, but could not put a name to. That something was a soul.
If Trudy could sense the soul in Matthew, then it made sense that he would feel its lack in Faye. But that was something she had not figured on. Neither had she figured how much this bit of knowledge would hurt.
She made an attempt to distract herself with a laugh. "Put that other woman behind ye, mannie, and see if Faye don't seem better to ye then."
Matthew was silent. By the worried look on his face, she suspected he was as troubled by his failure to love Faye as she was. He simply did not understand it, whereas she most painfully did. How could he guess that his new-found friend, who dressed the way a lady should and spoke such elegant English as to seem to the manor born, was an elf?
"Shall I sing to ye, mannie?" Trudy ventured in a shaking voice.
The wrinkles on his brow disappeared, and he sighed as he closed his eyes. "Yes, please sing to me, pretty maid."
Trudy scooted forward towards his pillow. "If ye promise not to grab me, I'll stroke yer forehead for ye. That'll make ye get well quick."
"Then, by all means, I give my promise not to touch you."
A little ache spread in Trudy's chest. It grew much worse. "I'll let ye touch me some day, mannie, I promise. Just not now."
* * * *
In the morning, Matthew felt completely renewed, as if the magic in his dream maiden's fingertips had worked. He could still feel the tenderness of Trudy's dainty hands upon his face and neck. His reaction to the memory of her touch was strong enough to embarrass him. For a grown man to be enamored of a delusion was patently ridiculous. But he could not shake the feeling that her hands had been real and that they had gently stroked his skin until his fever had vanished and the muscles of his arms and legs had flexed with new strength.
He also could not let go of the certainty that it was time now to face the people who had wronged him. With his physical powers in some measure restored, he would have the resources to deal with a confrontation. And he knew that to go on with his life, he must bury the aches of the past.
Trudy's probing questions about Faye and his feelings for her had disturbed him more than he liked to think. There was no question in his mind that Faye, with her youth, enthusiasm and faith, had been the inspiration for his comforting dreams and the true basis for his healing.
He was grateful to her. More than that, he was fascinated by her, so much so that he wondered if she might not be the answer to all his troubles. Since she had appeared in his library unannounced, his life had taken a sudden change. For the first time in years, he felt glowingly alive.
Faye had proven her good faith by supporting him in front of his colleagues. Though the effects of her magic on those gentlemen would surely wear off, at least he now had a chance to go up against them on a fair playing field, unhampered by a stiff, unreasoning defense. For this, not to mention her countless other virtues, he ought to love her.
Why, then, was he unable to trust her as he should?
Until last night, Matthew had not put into words the concerns that had troubled him about Faye, uppermost that eerie, unsettling feeling that she might vanish just as suddenly as she had come. Whether a result of Ahmad's superstition or of his own disorientation as caused by his delusions, he knew such a fear was absurd. But knowing it to be did not help to diminish it.
Perhaps his unwillingness to believe in her was due to Helen's unfaithfulness and the resulting harm it had caused.
If that were the case, he had best resolve the lingering hurt from that past experience, else he would risk losing the greatest gift ever to come his way.
Leaving Ahmad behind at home, Matthew decided to walk the few blocks to Sir Julian's residence in Audley Street. The crisp December air was bracing, and the fur and holly hanging
If Trudy could sense the soul in Matthew, then it made sense that he would feel its lack in Faye. But that was something she had not figured on. Neither had she figured how much this bit of knowledge would hurt.
She made an attempt to distract herself with a laugh. "Put that other woman behind ye, mannie, and see if Faye don't seem better to ye then."
Matthew was silent. By the worried look on his face, she suspected he was as troubled by his failure to love Faye as she was. He simply did not understand it, whereas she most painfully did. How could he guess that his new-found friend, who dressed the way a lady should and spoke such elegant English as to seem to the manor born, was an elf?
"Shall I sing to ye, mannie?" Trudy ventured in a shaking voice.
The wrinkles on his brow disappeared, and he sighed as he closed his eyes. "Yes, please sing to me, pretty maid."
Trudy scooted forward towards his pillow. "If ye promise not to grab me, I'll stroke yer forehead for ye. That'll make ye get well quick."
"Then, by all means, I give my promise not to touch you."
A little ache spread in Trudy's chest. It grew much worse. "I'll let ye touch me some day, mannie, I promise. Just not now."
* * * *
In the morning, Matthew felt completely renewed, as if the magic in his dream maiden's fingertips had worked. He could still feel the tenderness of Trudy's dainty hands upon his face and neck. His reaction to the memory of her touch was strong enough to embarrass him. For a grown man to be enamored of a delusion was patently ridiculous. But he could not shake the feeling that her hands had been real and that they had gently stroked his skin until his fever had vanished and the muscles of his arms and legs had flexed with new strength.
He also could not let go of the certainty that it was time now to face the people who had wronged him. With his physical powers in some measure restored, he would have the resources to deal with a confrontation. And he knew that to go on with his life, he must bury the aches of the past.
Trudy's probing questions about Faye and his feelings for her had disturbed him more than he liked to think. There was no question in his mind that Faye, with her youth, enthusiasm and faith, had been the inspiration for his comforting dreams and the true basis for his healing.
He was grateful to her. More than that, he was fascinated by her, so much so that he wondered if she might not be the answer to all his troubles. Since she had appeared in his library unannounced, his life had taken a sudden change. For the first time in years, he felt glowingly alive.
Faye had proven her good faith by supporting him in front of his colleagues. Though the effects of her magic on those gentlemen would surely wear off, at least he now had a chance to go up against them on a fair playing field, unhampered by a stiff, unreasoning defense. For this, not to mention her countless other virtues, he ought to love her.
Why, then, was he unable to trust her as he should?
Until last night, Matthew had not put into words the concerns that had troubled him about Faye, uppermost that eerie, unsettling feeling that she might vanish just as suddenly as she had come. Whether a result of Ahmad's superstition or of his own disorientation as caused by his delusions, he knew such a fear was absurd. But knowing it to be did not help to diminish it.
Perhaps his unwillingness to believe in her was due to Helen's unfaithfulness and the resulting harm it had caused.
If that were the case, he had best resolve the lingering hurt from that past experience, else he would risk losing the greatest gift ever to come his way.
Leaving Ahmad behind at home, Matthew decided to walk the few blocks to Sir Julian's residence in Audley Street. The crisp December air was bracing, and the fur and holly hanging
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