Time slipped by as the lesson progressed. Martin showed her how to grind, measure, and prepare simple mixtures. He pulled another book from the shelf, placed it open in front of her once they were seated, and explained its contents with absolute patience.
“This one is more suited to where ye are now,” he said.
Edith leaned in, her eyes catching the sketches and drawings on the pages.
“Can I…” She hesitated.
Martin nodded, encouraging her to speak.
“Can I take it back to me chamber? To study outside me lessons.”
“Aye,” he said with a smile.
Edith took the book, setting it aside so that she would not forget.
Martin gave her small duties throughout the day, keeping her involved and explaining as he went. She did everything he asked without complaint, assisting him and learning without feeling the slightest hint of exhaustion.
This was her dream. It was what she’d always wanted. And now that she had it, she would not let it slip away.
By the end of the afternoon, Martin paused, studying her for a moment.
“Knowledge isnae only what ye see,” he said. “It’s also what ye feel.”
He stepped closer, gently taking her wrist.
“Here,” he murmured. “The pulse. The heart speaks through it.”
Edith stilled. She watched as his fingers shifted over her wrist, pressing against the correct point.
“May I try it?” she asked. She had never been able to feel a pulse before, not successfully at least.
Martin obliged, giving her his hand.
A small frown creased her face as she concentrated. Then, finally, she felt it, fluttering steadily beneath her fingers.
“’Tis quite slow,” she noted.
He nodded in agreement. “Aye. That tells ye somethin’.”
A soft smile touched her lips without her realizing it, and Martin’s eyes lit up at her expression.
He shifted then, guiding her other hand gently away from her side and placing it against his chest. “Now feel the difference.”
Edith’s breath caught slightly. It was strange, placing her hand against the chest of a man she barely knew. But Martin was entirely proper about it—a teacher demonstrating a lesson,nothing more. His expression never shifted, and somehow that made it easier to concentrate.
She pressed one hand against her chest and the other against his, feeling both of their heartbeats at the same time.
“Mine is faster,” she observed quietly.
Martin nodded. “Aye,” he said. “Ye’re excited. ’Tis what knowledge does.” He watched her carefully. “But learn to separate yer own pulse from the one ye’re reading. A healer cannae afford confusion between the two.”
Edith nodded, pressing her hand more firmly against his chest and closing her eyes.
And then, all of a sudden, the door burst open.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It had only been a coincidence.
