Aphrodite's Touch Read online

  Hephaestus lowered Aglaia into the basin and closed the spout when the water was deep enough to cover her up to her chin. Then he lowered her even further until only her face was above the surface. He dipped water by the handful and let it pour over her forehead, cheeks, and mouth, all bruised to some degree. She moaned, and her lips rubbed together, the tip of her tongue showing between them briefly.

  Her skin was still cold to his touch, although she had been almost completely submerged for some time. Now she started to shudder violently in his arms, her teeth chattering together. He whisked her from the water and she convulsed against him as soon as the relatively cooler air hit her body. Neda stood nearby and threw a woolen blanket over her, and he rushed up another passageway to his bedchamber.

  The caverns were his hideaway where he could work in peace and have the solitude he craved. He had never planned to invite guests, so he had never prepared other bedchambers. The room was lighted by scores of clay lamps arranged in clusters upon rocks he had split to provide flat surfaces and in niches he had carved at random in the walls. Neda had laid a blazing fire in a large crevice in the rock wall with a natural flue that drew smoke from the room.

  First, he sat on the hearth as close to the fire as he could tolerate while holding Aglaia in his lap, her head propped on his shoulder. With one hand, he repeatedly drew his fingers through her thick red hair, carefully loosening the tangles and allowing the heat to penetrate to the scalp. Touchable fire, he thought, fascinated by the way the light danced in the red-gold of each strand.

  Neda had added more woolen blankets to the large bed and drawn them back. Now, he laid Aglaia in the center of the mattress and tucked the coverings around her up to her chin. Close to the fire, she had stopped shaking, but now she began to shiver again, and he was at a loss as to what to do next. He dared not call Zeus or even Aphrodite unless he had a good explanation for how Aglaia came to be in this condition.

  Zeus would react first and ask questions later as always. Aphrodite might accuse before he could even begin to explain how he'd found her. Aglaia would heal as quickly as any immortal, and in a day or two she would be conscious and able to tell him what had happened. Then she could tell him whom she wanted him to notify. Until then he would care for her as best he could and, when she was well enough, make sure she returned to Olympus where she belonged.

  Hephaestus frowned. Her shivering hadn't lessened. He turned to tell Neda to bring more blankets, but the golden serving maid had already gone. He looked down at Aglaia again. Sighing, he unfastened the belt that held up the pleated leather wrap-around apron he wore to protect his private parts while at his forge. He dropped the belt and apron to the floor. He wore a linen garment to protect himself from chafing, but didn't remove it.

  He eased into the bed beside Aglaia, gathered her into his arms with her back against him, and wrapped his body around hers. When she stopped shaking, she made small, whimpering sounds. He thought she might awaken, but she only pressed into him as if seeking more warmth.

  Ignoring his body's reaction to her nearness, he closed his eyes and tried to think of other things. He hadn't lain with a woman in a long time. There had been others since Aphrodite, but he had come to appreciate being alone with no one else to answer to or be responsible for.

  One private part seemed to have a mind of its own and wouldn't cooperate. He shifted away from her, so that if she did awaken before he left her side, she wouldn't think he was a threat to her.

  This close to a beautiful woman aroused him as it would any man, mortal or divine, but he wanted no complications in his life. He wanted nothing more than what he already had. He had tried another way once, but the marriage had ended in disaster. He never wanted to experience that again.

  * * * * *

  Aglaia woke wrapped in a cocoon of warmth after a horrid but quite realistic dream. She had been wet and cold, her teeth chattering until they fell from her mouth, and her skin permanently wrinkled. How wonderful to be warm and dry and safe in her own chamber in the palace she shared with her sister Charites on Mount Olympus. It had been such a strange dream and many images assailed her mind, including Aphrodite's former husband.

  Why would she dream of Hephaestus holding her close against his broad chest, his large hands fondling her hair? Why would she dream of him at all?

  Home, she thought defensively to keep the flitting visions of Hephaestus at bay. She snuggled deeper into the bedding, but groaned because every movement hurt, especially her right lower leg, which throbbed with an agonizing ache that wouldn't stop. Her eyes flew open and—

  Where were the pale rose marble walls and the sheer pink drapery that billowed with every breeze of aether? Her room at home was light and airy and glowed softly with shades of rose and gold that echoed the pastel hues of dawn. This place was dark even though a fire burned brightly in the fireplace. Scores of lamps were scattered around the room, some atop flattened boulders and along the mantle and hearth, but most set into the walls.

  She examined her surroundings more closely. The walls seemed to be natural rock, and the ceiling was unevenly formed like that of a cave. A large wooden chest and several bronze tripods sat in a dark corner, and big flat rocks served as tables.

  Aglaia tried to rise to a sitting position, but pain shot through every part of her like a barrage of well-sharpened arrows. She fell back and cried out, trying to grab the edge of the blankets to fling them back, but her arm seemed to weigh more than she could lift. She dragged the limb free of the coverings and stared at it. No weights attached and nothing wrong except for a scattering of bruises from wrist to shoulder. She just didn't have the strength to raise it.

  Footsteps sounded near and a strange elongated shadow appeared in the only opening to the chamber. Before Aglaia could decide if she should do something in case she was in danger, a woman stepped through.

  She was average in appearance, her hair piled into a bronze fillet at the back of her head and a puff of curls across her forehead in front of the attaching stephane. Her skin glinted in the flickering lights. She wore no expression on her face at all, and Aglaia wasn't certain the woman was even looking at her.

  "Wh-" Aglaia's voice cracked, and she cleared her throat to try again. "Who are you?"

  "I am Neda," the woman answered in a flat monotone.

  The name meant nothing to Aglaia. "Where am I?"

  "My master will explain all. I will tell him you are awake," she said with no inflection in her slightly metallic voice.

  "What am I doing here?" Aglaia insisted, but the woman turned stiffly and disappeared through the doorway. "Please don't go yet! Who is your master?"

  Aglaia waited, but the woman called Neda did not return. She wanted to run and hide, but she couldn't move without pain shooting through every muscle and joint. Instead, she tried to remember where she was and how she came to be here in this condition, but her last memory was of a hasty summons from Aphrodite. Aglaia couldn't recall if she had answered the summons or not.

  Heavier footsteps now sounded in the passageway and Aglaia tensed, causing all kinds of hurt to her body. Who could Neda's master be? Was he the one who had caused Aglaia's injuries? If so, was he allowing her to heal so he could have the peculiar pleasure of harming her again?

  Aglaia's eyes widened as a large, distorted shadow preceded the man who entered and stopped just inside the doorway. Terror clouded her visual judgment until she realized he wasn't a huge, grotesque monster at all.

  He was tall, broad, and darkly tanned, the flames from the fire and lamps burnishing his skin with a ruddy glow. Long black hair was drawn tightly from his face, but a thick hank fell over each shoulder. He wore a short beard and mustache, more in the fashion of a mortal who had neglected scraping the hair from his face for a few days than a full beard. A leather chiton stopped mid-thigh, the girt at his waist fastened with bronze, and the drape covered his chest to a bronze clasp on one shoulder.

  Aglaia relaxed and breathed again. "Hephaestus!"


  He limped across the floor to stand at the foot of the bed, looking down at her with unreadable black eyes beneath thick dark brows.

  "I'm relieved you're awake. I was beginning to worry about you," he said, his deep voice husky.

  "I'm so glad to see that you are Neda's master," Aglaia said, laughing. "But what has happened to me?"

  Hephaestus frowned, his dark brows furrowing together. "You don't remember?"

  Aglaia shook her head, amazed that even that slight movement caused considerable discomfort. "No, not really. How did I come to be here?"

  "I found you on the shore. The sea had washed you up and left you for dead. Or so I thought until I turned you over and saw it was you," Hephaestus explained. "You have many cuts and bruises, and your ankle is swollen and bruised. I dressed it with an unguent and wrapped it. The swelling has gone down some, but the injury is still severe."

  Neda entered, carrying a serving tray, and crossed the chamber to Aglaia. She bent down to let Aglaia view the goblet and bowl on the tray.

  "Set the tray down," Hephaestus commanded.

  Neda put the tray on a flattened boulder, which sat near the head of the bed.

  "Thank you, Neda," Aglaia said and looked up at the maid. "You—You've changed your hair."

  Only moments ago, Neda had her hair piled into a fillet, but now she wore it down in a multitude of tiny braids.

  "No, m'lady," Neda said in her stilted way.

  "That will be all, Neda," Hephaestus said. The maid inclined her head and left the room.

  Hephaestus limped around the bed and helped Aglaia to rise, propping her up with an extra pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the goblet. "Nectar," he said and then indicated the bowl left behind on the tray. "And ambrosia. Both will help you to recover quickly."

  Aglaia nodded and allowed him to hold the goblet to her lips. The cool, sweet nectar slid down her parched throat, and she began to feel the regenerative effects of the divine drink instantaneously.

  "There are twelve Nedas," Hephaestus explained. "I forged them out of gold to act as serving maids. I named them all Neda for convenience, as they are all identical. Except..."

  "Their hair?" Aglaia guessed between sips of nectar.

  Hephaestus nodded. "I don't quite understand it. They were endowed with the ability to serve and nothing more. I didn't give them personalities or a sense of self. Yet, each wears her hair in a different style to distinguish herself from the others."

  "They are growing and changing, becoming more than you meant them to be. How amazing!" Aglaia lay back on the pillows and Hephaestus set the goblet aside.

  "Yes, it is. Would you like to try the ambrosia now?"

  "Not yet," Aglaia said and wrinkled her nose. She had consumed all of the nectar, and it filled her up for the moment. "How long have I been here?"

  "Two days." Hephaestus sat on the edge of the bed. "I didn't know what had happened to you, so I didn't inform anyone. Would you like me to send a message to Olympus?"

  "No...I don't think so," Aglaia said slowly. "The last thing I remember is a summons from Aphrodite, but I can't really remember—No, I do remember! I met with her in the rose garden, and she had an errand for me. Where are we now?"

  "On the isle of Lemnos, beneath Mount Mosychlos."

  "Lemnos. Yes, Aphrodite sent me to Lemnos. Is this where you've been staying?"

  Hephaestus nodded. "Ever since Zeus tossed me from Olympus."

  "The cliffs!" Aglaia closed her eyes, her mind suddenly filled with images she'd rather not remember. Tears squeezed through and spilled down her cheeks. "I was thrown from the cliffs into the sea. They were trying to kill me."

  "Who?" Hephaestus moved closer and took one of her hands in his. With the other, he used the edge of the bedding to wipe her tears away. "Who tried to kill you?"

  "The queen and her men. I was alone at the edge of the cliffs. I heard a noise and I thought they'd sent someone to escort me back, but there were two large, ugly men and the queen. She had threatened me once and so I ran." Aglaia trembled and clenched Hephaestus' hand. "She ordered them to get me and they rushed me."

  "Why didn't you aetherize?" Hephaestus asked.

  Aglaia's face grew warm in embarrassment. She couldn't tell him the real reason. He would laugh at her! "I-I didn't want them to know I was anything but mortal, and I thought it was just another of her threats."

  Aglaia explained everything that had happened since her arrival on Lemnos. Hephaestus guessed it had taken a full day for her to reach his shore from where she'd fallen.

  "I didn't believe she would actually harm me," Aglaia finished. "By the time I realized she meant to follow through, it was too late. I was already bound and gagged and sailing over the edge of the cliff."

  "This Croco and Phlius need to be taught how to treat a lady," Hephaestus said through clenched teeth. He reached for the bowl of ambrosia.

  "They must do their queen's bidding, you know that." Aglaia savored the ambrosia that Hephaestus put between her lips. Energy surged through her immediately and all the soreness from minor cuts and bruises faded away. She tried moving her leg, but that was still much too painful.

  Hephaestus noticed her frown of discomfort. "I don't think even ambrosia will be able to heal your ankle any time soon. Give it a few days."

  Aglaia nodded. "You won't go after Croco and Phlius? If Tebris and the others do as I suggested, everything will work out and I'll have no need to return to the palace."

  "And if they don't?"

  "The wedding is five days away. After that, I can do nothing about it anyway. Aphrodite will just have to accept that I failed." Aglaia stifled a yawn. "But I think Tebris and Cydippe are strong enough and determined enough to carry out the plan. Please. If you do get rid of Croco and Phlius, Eupompe will only find others to do her dirty work for her. There is always someone."

  "Very well. Since you ask so nicely," Hephaestus said and Aglaia thought she saw a hint of amusement beneath his forbidding expression. "Croco and Phlius will not suffer my wrath this time."

  "Thank you." Aglaia smiled at him, but he didn't return the gesture. Instead, he fed her ambrosia until her eyelids grew heavy and she could eat no more.

  Hephaestus stood and took up the tray.

  "Oh, please, don't go yet. I'm feeling much better."

  He looked down at her with his haunted black eyes, and Aglaia fleetingly wondered how Aphrodite could have forsaken this man.

  "You need to rest. You're nearly asleep now. And I have things to do."

  He was almost at the doorway when Aglaia spoke. "Thank you, Hephaestus, for taking care of me."

  He only nodded then disappeared through the doorway. Aglaia snuggled down into the bed, relieved that it no longer hurt to move. She was soon asleep.

  * * * * *

  The bellows blew air into the fire at his command, more strongly now, more lightly now, as he toiled to create what he saw in his mind's eye. If a modified greave could give him the mobility he'd never had before in his life, it would do the same for Aglaia until her injury healed.

  Hephaestus had no need to take measurements. He instinctively knew how to make his creation fit to perfection. This greave was much smaller than his own, of course, to fit the goddess' smaller limb. He worked the bronze until the decoration of twining flowers was to his satisfaction. He forged small blossoms for the closures and extras for the sandal she was wearing when he'd found her.

  When the bronze had cooled, he took a cloth and buffed until the metal gleamed in the firelight. He would give her the greave in a few days. If sooner, she would want to try it on immediately and he felt she shouldn't attempt to walk just yet. The nectar and ambrosia had to be given time to help such a severe injury.

  He set the greave aside and left the caverns for his evening swim to wash away the sweat and smoke and grime of his labors. When he returned, he went to the bathing room and stood beneath the hot water to wash away the salt that the seawater had left behi
nd. When done, he retrieved the greave and went to his bedchamber.

  Aglaia still slept. Quietly, he hid the greave away and fastened the extra blossoms to the sandal already in the chest. He found clean clothes for himself and changed into them. Then he called a tripod and it obediently moved across the floor to him. He sat and watched her sleep for a long time.

  Hephaestus didn't know what to think of her. She had treated him no differently than she would any of the other immortals. And few of them had ever treated him with anything other than contempt or scorn or...indifference, which was somehow worse.

  When he was very young, he had tried to ingratiate himself with the others every way he knew how, to be accepted and liked. He fetched and carried and did for them as if he were a slave instead of a god. He had even lowered himself to act the buffoon, tripping and falling on purpose, to make them laugh. Yet nothing he did caused any of them to see him as anything other than a cripple.

  How can a divine being be less than perfect? He saw the question in their eyes whenever they chanced to look at him instead of through him. To Hephaestus, the unspoken question challenged his right to be an Olympian. And he had no answer.

  Aglaia. A goddess of grace. He felt himself stir just gazing upon her. She looked as if she had been carved from alabaster, and her dark red hair spread out in disarray like a raging fire. Even in sleep, she personified the meaning of her name, splendor.

  Hephaestus shifted position, aroused by the sight and thought of her. Finally, he stood and quietly approached the bed, looking down at her. The edge of the covering was at her hips, and he slowly drew it up, the back of his hand lightly skimming her arm. When he withdrew, his fingers felt afire from the touch of her soft skin. He was tempted to kiss her awake and see how she responded. He wanted to wrap himself in her voluptuous curves and lose all sense of time and reason. He wanted—

  No, he didn't want Aglaia, he told himself sternly. He wanted...nothing more than what he had. His forge, his caverns, his solitude. He wanted or needed nothing more. Nothing more! Hephaestus quickly turned and strode from the room.