was of Gaeres as he took his teacup from her hand, his brown fingers slender and elegant, their tips the whisper of a caress against her own.
As it was every year, the days designated for celebrating Delyalda were defined by crowded streets and a city swelled to thrice its usual size in population. The weekly outdoor market reflected the same as it crept beyond the edges of neighborhoods, and enterprising citizens with an item to sell or a skill to trade set up shop in their doorways, their parlors even, and earned coin from visitors arriving hourly to celebrate the winter festival.
Emerence split her time between the apothecary and the drapery, helping her father and Linnett manage both. She’d intended to balance the accounts for both shops this day, but the crush of customers kept her far too busy. Tocqua was in his glory, he and his army of tailors frantically plying needle and thread to festival finery while Linnett handled the apothecary and Emerence kept the harried staff of both stores from dropping with exhaustion.
Summer came unexpectedly to the apothecary near noon, golden and warm and dusted with snow. She glanced up from measuring a packet of ground willow bark for a client to see Gaeres standing at the counter watching her. She offered him a wide smile, inordinately happy to find him here but worried for the reason. Those who visited this shop did so seeking relief from or a cure for ailments.
She scraped the order of willow bark into a small cloth bag, gave instructions for dosage to her customer and took payment. She signaled one of the clerks to take her place at the counter so she could concentrate on her Quereci visitor.
“What a pleasure to see you here, sir,” she said, meaning every word. “Though I fear why. Is Dahran Omeya ill? The others?”
Gaeres shook his head, flinging droplets of melted snow from his hat onto the floor. “We’re mostly well, Madam Ipsan. I’m here for two purposes. Two of my cousins are next door looking at ribbon, and I’m to escort them to the open market later for one of the daytime events. My other cousin woke this morning with a sick stomach. I’ve been instructed to return to the camp with something to settle it fast so she’ll feel well enough to attend tonight’s festivities with her sisters.” His black eyes warmed. “It was a good excuse as any to see and speak with you once more.”
The surprise jolting her at his forthright statement was only surpassed by the heat suddenly coursing through her veins. She didn’t doubt his sincerity. A lifetime as a shopkeeper’s daughter had trained her ear to know when someone spoke truly or simply tried to charm her into giving them something for free. Even if she weren’t so immune to such false wiles, she’d believe him. Her impression of Gaeres thus far had been of a man of upstanding character, and Emerence trusted her judgment.
“I have just the thing,” she said and motioned to him to follow her toward the back of the shop and one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves crowded with jars and bottles. She went up on her toes to reach a small vial, swallowing a gasp when slender fingers curved around hers to grasp it.
Gaeres let go almost instantly, but Emerence’s hand still tingled from the brief touch as did the rest of her body, especially with him standing so close behind her. She turned to offer him the vial and almost collided with his chest. The apothecary’s small confines and the number of people currently shopping inside it enforced even closer proximity. In this instance, she didn’t mind at all, and if Gaeres’s expression was anything to judge by, he didn’t mind either.
She held the bottle up for his perusal. “Candied ginger, suspended in a little honey,” she told him. “Chew it or steep it in a hot tea. It’s guaranteed to ease the touchiest stomach.”
He plucked the bottle gently from her fingers. A clerk and three more customers sidled up next to them, squeezing them into a corner. If Gaeres was close before, he practically enveloped Emerence now. She savored the moment. He loomed above her, half in shadow, half in lamplight, the fur edging of his hat framing his angular face.
“I’m sorry it’s so crowded,” she said.
“I’m not.” His words caressed her. “What do I owe for the ginger?”
She was tempted to tell him it was gratis, a gift to repay his