"I never figured you owed me anything, Nadine; I'd have done the same no matter who Tom had caught alone that day but you have my sincere gratitude for helping Kahlan."

"Sure. I guess that was stupid of me to think you stopped him because. ." Richard realized by the way she sounded on the verge of tears that he hadn't put it very well, so he laid a hand tenderly on her shoulder. "Nadine, you've grown into a beautiful woman, too."

She peered up with a growing smile, "You think I'm beautiful?" She smoothed her blue dress at her hips.

"I didn't dance with you at the midsummer festival because you were still clumsy little Nadine Brighton."

She started winding the string again, 'I liked dancing with you. You know, I carved the initials 'N.C. on my betrothal trunk. For Nadine Cypher." "I'm sorry. Nadine. Michael is dead."

She looked up with a frown. "Michael? No. . that's not what it meant. It meant you."

Richard decided that this conversation had gone far enough. He had more important things to worry about.

"I'm Richard Rahl now. I can't live in the past. My future is with Kahlan." Nadine caught his arm as he started turning away. "I'm sorry. I know that. I know I made a big mistake. With Michael, I mean."

Richard caught himself just in time to bite off a caustic retort. What would be the purpose? "I appreciate that you helped Kahlan. I suppose you'll want to be heading home. Tell everyone I'm well. I'll be back for a visit when-" "Kahlan invited me to stay a while."

Richard was caught off guard; Kahlan had neglected to tell him that part of it. "Oh. And you wish to stay for a day or two?"

"Sure. I thought I'd like that. I've never been away from home before. If it's all right with you, I mean. I wouldn't wan to. ."

Richard gently pulled his arm from her hand. "Fine. If she invited you, then it's fine with me."

She brightened, as if oblivious to the disapproval on his face. "Richard, did you see the moon last night? Everyone is abuzz about it. Did you see it? Was it as extraordinary, as remarkable, as they say? ' "That, and more," he whispered, his mood darkening. Before she could get in another word, he marched off.

His soft knock on the door produced a rotund woman in a staff uniform. Her ruddy face peered out through the narrow crack.

"Lord Rahl. Nancy is just helping the Mother Confessor get dressed. She'll be finished in a minute."

"Dressed!" he called to the closing door. The latch clicked into place. "She's supposed to be in bed!" he called through the heavy, ornately carved door.

Getting no response, he decided to wait rather than cause a scene. Once, when he looked up, he saw Nadine peeking around the corner. Her head swiftly disappeared back around the corner. He paced before the door until the rubicund woman finally opened it wide and held an arm out in invitation.

Richard stepped into the room, feeling as if he was entering another world. The Confessors' Palace was a place of splendor, power, and history, but the Mother Confessor's quarters were the place that, more than anywhere else in the palace, reminded him that he was really just a woods guide. It made him feel out of his element.

The Mother Confessor's rooms were a majestic, quiet sanctuary befitting the woman to whom knelt kings and queens. If Richard had seen this room before he came to know Kahlan, he wondered if he would have ever had the nerve to speak to her. Even now, it embarrassed him to recall teaching her to build snares and dig roots when he didn't know who, or what, she was.

It made him smile, though, to remember her eagerness to learn. He was thankful he had come to know the woman before he came to understand the post she filled, and the magic she wielded. He thanked the good spirits she had come into his life, and prayed she would be a part of it forever. She meant everything to him.

The three marble fireplaces in the Mother Confessor's sitting room were ablaze. The heavy drapes on the ten-foot-tall windows hung open slightly, forming tall slits, letting in only enough light, muted by the sheer panels behind, to make lamps unnecessary. He guessed that bright sunlight was inappropriate in a sanctuary. There were only a few houses in Hartland that wouldn't fit in this room alone.

On a glossy, gold-embellished mahogany table to the side sat a silver tray with tea, soup, biscuits, sliced pears, and brown bread. None of it had been touched. The sight reminded him that he hadn't eaten since noon the day before, but failed to summon his appetite.

The three women in crisp gray dresses with white lace collars and cuffs watched him expectantly, as if waiting to see if he would dare to simply walk in on the Mother Confessor, or fall into a show of some other scandalous behavior.

Richard glanced at the door at the far end of the room, his sense of propriety making him ask the obvious. "Is she dressed?"

The one who had cracked the door before reddened. "I wouldn't have let you in, sir, had she not been."

"Of course." He headed soundlessly across the plush, dark-hued carpets. He stopped and turned back. They watched like three owls. "Thank you, ladies. That will be all."

They bowed and reluctantly took their leave. He realized as the last one stole a quick glance over her shoulder while pulling the door closed that they probably considered it the height of indecency for a man engaged to a woman to be alone with her in her bedroom. Doubly so for the Mother Confessor.

Richard forced out an annoyed breath; whenever he was anywhere near the Mother Confessor's rooms, some member of the staff always managed to show up every other minute checking to see if she needed anything. The variety of things they suspected she might be needing never failed to surprise him. He sometimes expected one of them to come right out and ask her if she might need her virtue protected. Outside her rooms the staff was friendly, even joking with him when he put them at ease, or helped them carry things. A few were afraid of him. But not in her rooms. In her rooms, they all turned into bold, protective mother hawks.

Inside the bedroom, against the far paneled wall, stood the huge bed, its four great dark polished posts rising up like columns before a palace. The thick, embroidered bedcover cascaded down the sides of the bed like a colorful waterfall frozen in place. A slash of sunlight cut across the dark, sumptuous carpets and over the lower half of the bed.

Richard remembered Kahlan describing her bed to him, telling him how she couldn't wait to have him in it, when they were married. He very much wanted to be in bed with her; it had been since that night between worlds that he had been alone with her-in that way-but he had to admit that he was intimidated by that bed of hers. He thought he might lose her in it. She had promised there would be no chance of that.

Kahlan was standing at the row of glassed doors before the expansive balcony, looking out past the open curtain. She was staring out over the stone railings and up toward the Keep on the mountainside. The sight of her in her satiny white dress flowing smoothly over her ravishing curves, with her dazzling mane cascading down her back, nearly took his breath. The sight of her made him ache. He decided that the bed would be just fine.

When he tenderly touched her shoulder, she started.

She turned, a beaming smile on her face as she looked up at him. "I thought you were Nancy, come back in."

"What do you mean, you thought I was Nancy? You didn't know it was me?" "How would I know it was you?"

He shrugged. "Because. I always can tell when it's you who's walked into a room. I don't have to see you." Her brow furrowed in disbelief. "You cannot." "Of course I can." "How?"

"You have a unique fragrance. I know the sounds you make, the sound of your breathing, the way you move, the way you pause. They're all unique to you." Her frown grew. "You're not kidding" You mean it? You're serious?" "Of course. Can't you tell me by those things?"