when they reached the village, he left cortland as quickly as he could and hurried in the direction of his house, incoherent thoughts tumbling over each other in his mind. his face burned as he remembered his condescension, the way he had fought his desire for her by holding her off with curt remarks, indicating with raised eyebrows that he wished no personal conversation. he thought of the occasional glint of amusement he had seen breaking through her serene courtesy.

why had she kept coming, he wondered.

he saw, with a start, that he was nearly to his house, and he realized he had been hoping nanae would be there. he had to talk to her, though he had no idea what he would say. as he drew closer, he saw a flicker of motion inside the porch.

he walked forward quietly, and then stood a moment watching her, silently. she had her back to him and was sweeping, as she had been that first time he saw her. her thighs were wrapped in soft, violet cloth, and a cascade of violet flowers jeweled the lovely hair which rippled and swirled down her back and shoulders. not a wasted motion, he thought, not a gesture that isn't beautiful. he wondered why he had ever felt sweeping a floor was a menial task. she moved like a great dancer.

she turned as he watched and saw him. "hello." she smiled, and he felt himself tremble a little.

"i just heard about you—about your being head of the council," he blurted out. "i want to apologize; i didn't know, i—"

"what difference does it make?" she looked genuinely puzzled.

"i thought you were a maid, a ... a sort of person who waits on other people, on terra," he tried to explain. "i didn't know you were just doing this to be kind. i've been very rude. i—i hardly know what to say...."

her eyes widened. "do you treat people who clean your houses on terra one way and officials another? you are funny, you terrans."

"yes, i guess we are funny." he searched for words. "this is the first time i've really talked to you, isn't it?"

she smiled. "we've just been people in the same room." she spoke gently. "i've seen you were unhappy and confused under that proud manner. i wanted to help, but you weren't ready to let anyone help."

"why did you keep coming?" he waited anxiously for her answer.

"i liked you." her glance was half-tender and a little amused. "and i knew you wanted me here, even though you tried not to show it." she paused. "there was another reason, too."

"what was it?"

"you know marlin ross lived here once?" he nodded. "well, there was a note from him on the spaceship you came on. it was addressed to my father, asking him to take care of you. he and ross were good friends. but my father is dead now, and so the letter was given to me."

"and so you've been taking care of me."

"yes."

"but i'm sure he didn't mean it literally—taking care of my house and fixing my food and—"

"no, of course not. he just meant to take care of you, give you what you needed. but you needed this. you needed to be waited on a little."

"i guess i did." he could find nothing adequate to say. "thank you."

there was a moment of silence.

she put aside the broom, which was still poised in one hand. "let me make you some jen. you look tired."

"thank you." kirk sat down, with a deep sigh, and leaned back, watching her precise, exquisite movements, as she prepared the hot liquid. he found himself longing to touch her, to reach out and feel the soft, supple flesh, the rippling hair. the sight of her beautiful, firm breasts moving as she worked tortured him. the low necklace that signified they were covered didn't work very well for him, he thought. the flowers twined into it kept falling aside as she bent and turned, tantalizing him more. he pulled his eyes away, and forced himself to think of other things.

she had been very kind, he realized.

she hadn't made him feel like a fool.