I found myself suddenly encompassed within the centaur’s strong arms.

“Ugh…” I tried futilely to pull away. “I’m disgustingly filthy.”

“Be still.” His deep, hypnotic voice washed over me. “I have missed you.”

That did make me be still. He missed me. I was sure I was smiling foolishly against him.

“And I worried about you, too.” He held me a little away from him so he could look into my face. “What is this magic Alanna tried to explain to me? Do you really have a talisman against the pox?”

“Yes.” I loved his worried expression. “It’s not really magic—it’s medicine. But, believe me, it works. I can’t get smallpox.”

“Good.” He crushed me against him and I felt his lips touch the top of my head. “I would not have any harm come to you.”

“I wouldn’t have any harm come to me, either,” I tried to joke.

He squeezed me even harder against him. “This is not a matter for joking.”

“Sorry,” I squeaked, and he loosened his grip. “It’s just that I don’t particularly like this turn of events. I don’t want to shock you, but I’m not cut out to be a nurse.”

“That does not shock me. You do not like things that smell bad, and sick things smell bad.”

“Boy, that’s the truth.” I smiled sardonically. “Anyway, did Alanna tell you we think this pox is probably at the Temple of the Muse, too?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “That complicates our plan.”

“I’ll say—if we send human warriors up in that area they will be susceptible to this stuff. That can’t be good for an army.” I leaned back a little, still supported by the warm cradle of his arms. “Have you ever known of any centaurs getting anything like this pox?”

“No.” He sounded sure of himself. “The centaur race is not susceptible to pox.”

“That’s what I hoped.”

“Which means only centaur warriors will be allowed near the Muses. I have already sent a group of centaurs to their temple. They will tell them of our plan and report back to us of the health of the women at the temple.”

“It’s probably a mess. As awful as it might sound, we need to quarantine the temple and the area around it. We can send them supplies, but we cannot let humans from the temple further contaminate the rest of Partholon.”

“I agree. I have already spread word of the quarantine.” He eyed me critically. “And now it seems I must take care of you, too.”

“Huh?”

“Are you remembering that you have a rather full night ahead?” He looked at me quizzically.

In my best sexy Marilyn Monroe voice I cooed, “What did you have in mind?”

“Communicating with the Lord of the Fomorians.”

That certainly threw cold water on my X-rated thoughts. And, yes, somehow I’d forgotten all about that.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I wish there was another way. I still do not feel comfortable with you taunting this dark Lord.”

His thumbs traced lazy circles on the pulse points inside my elbows. I didn’t want to be involved in any scary dream-magic crap. I wanted to take a long bath, eat a big dinner and screw his brains out. But an insistent voice whispered that I had a job to do.

It was just too dang hard to ignore a goddess when she was inside your brain and tapped into your guilt button.

“I’m not particularly looking forward to it myself, but it has to be done.” I sighed and nuzzled against him. “You did say you were going to stay with me. Didn’t you?”

“Of course. I will always protect your body.”

I could think of many things I’d like for him to do to my body, protecting was the least of which.

“Good. Well, let me go in there and finish up. Then I’ll have some dinner, and you can help me figure out how to make this dream thing work.”

“The Goddess will lead you.” He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up. “I will give you only a short time more. Then if you have not left, I will come carry you out of that room of contagion. You may not be able to get the pox, but you must be mindful of your health.”

“And of my husband, too?” I attempted to sound coquettish, but I didn’t think the puke on my clothes helped to set a sexy mood.

“Yes, your husband, too.” He ruffled my already mussed hair and turned me around. With a gentle push he propelled me back toward the sickroom door. “Remember, if you do not finish soon, I will come get you.”

“I love it when you’re rough,” I said over my shoulder as I reentered the room.

Coming back into pox hell was a serious wake-up call. The first thing I saw was Carolan slowly taking the end of a linen sheet and covering the face of one of the children who had been among the most severely ill. I hurried to his side.

“This is the first one—” his voice was low, so only I could hear it “—but she will not be the last.”

“ClanFintan says centaurs do not get the pox.”

“That, at least, is good news. Do you realize that twelve more cases were reported since this morning?”

No, I hadn’t realized. I’d been too busy dealing with what was in front of my face. I had thought the sickroom had seemed more crowded, but I’d chalked that up to my aversion to nursing.

“And five of the seven most serious cases will probably not live through the night.”

“How about that little girl?” I pointed discreetly to the small horse lover.

He shook his head sadly. “She is in Epona’s hands.”

“Damnit.”

Carolan motioned for a couple of his assistants to take the body away.

“The body is still contagious,” I said.

He looked at me in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate to say, “Take her to the room adjoining my clinic. We must build a pyre outside of the temple grounds in which to send her remains to Epona.”

I nodded my head, careful to make a distinctly public display of agreeing with him. “Epona wants all of the victims of the pox to be cremated in one place, away from the temple. She will receive their souls, but she does not wish the dead to contaminate the living.”

We watched them carry the small girl away.

Carolan spoke to one of his several competent assistants. “Have the parents of the girl notified of her death.”

“No.” This time I didn’t need a voice within to prod me into action. “It’s my job.” I spoke directly to the woman. “Bring them here. I’ll tell them.”

“As you say, my Lady.” She curtsied and hurried away.

“You do not have to. Rhiannon would not have done so.”

“I am not Rhiannon.” My frustration with his comment was obvious.

“No, you are not. Forgive me for evoking a comparison.” Carolan’s tired voice was rich with warmth.

“You’re forgiven.” We smiled at each other. “Hey, while we’re on the subject of your forgetfulness, are you remembering that this is your wedding night?”