In the Witching Hour
Page 21
After a few repetitions, he mastered the words but agonized over Briana. Never in the world would he let her put herself in danger.
Abruptly, the queen stood. "Enough for tonight."
* * * *
Time went by more quickly than Briana would have imagined. Their handfasting day arrived, another glorious day with bright sunshine. She wondered if Donoria ever got any rain. Surely it must, for the grass remained a rich green, flowers, trees, and shrubs flourishing. With a mental shake of her head, she disregarded thoughts of the weather, for all she could think about, all she wanted to think about, was that Weylyn would become her husband this day.
The seamstresses having completed her wardrobe, she chose to wear her new light blue dress, the lovely silk with a trace of lavender. The queen lent her a gleaming pearl necklace with matching ear rings. Before leaving for the palace chapel, she took one last look at herself in the full-length mirror. Luxurious and slinky, the dress fell to her ankles and had a silver link belt to enclose the waist. Cut on the bias, it had a lovely swing, and she swayed in front of the mirror to see the effect. Holding her dress up, she admired her new shoes, black leather with a silver buckle, and wondered when she would wear them again.
Weylyn waited for her outside the room, garbed in a deep blue linen tunic and matching trousers, and wearing new black boots, highly polished. His face reflected all the joy she felt but perhaps none of the apprehension, for a trace of anxiety stirred in her stomach. She loved him, oh, how she loved him, but could she make him happy? She retrieved the question stored at the back of her mind since his proposal of marriage--could she please him in bed, innocent as she was? Surely a handsome, virile man such as he must have known many women.
Then he smiled and clasped her hand, and all her misgivings flew, with love-a-plenty to inspire her. "I love you," he said. "Don’t ever forget that."
Clad in a long green robe, a red peaked velvet hat atop his head, the priest, Father Vestavius, met them at the bottom of the stairs and led them to the chapel. The queen and ministers waited there, along with their ladies and others Briana had never met. She smiled at them, a smile they returned, for no one ever had gloomy thoughts at a wedding.
A wide red circle occupied much of the floor space at the front of the chapel, behind that stood the altar, where sweet aromas from many flowers floated through the air. Extending from the altar were chairs for the guests, every chair filled. Situated on the wall, above the altar, a large gold circle with pictures of the sun, stars, and moon in the center reflected the sunlight that streamed through the wide window.
Father Vestavius indicated for them to enter the circle, he joining them. "Weylyn Quinn and Briana Cashel wish to join together as husband and wife," he intoned to the gathering. "May the gods and goddesses bless their union." Lightly grasping Weylyn’s right hand and her left, he tied them together with a red ribbon. "This red ribbon symbolizes their union, the joining of this man and woman," he explained. He reached for a bowl from the altar and plucked a handful of dried flowers. He motioned for her and Weylyn to bow their heads, since they stood taller than he. Sprinkling petals on their heads, he said, "These flowers symbolize fertility. May this couple have many children."
Briana’s face warmed and she dared not look at Weylyn, yet she remained overwhelmed by the ceremony, the very strangeness of it--a ritual so different from that of her land.
The priest grasped a long vine from the altar and wrapped it around them at their waists. "And the vine stands for longevity. May their marriage be a long and happy one."
From a pocket in his black robe, he produced gold chains, and motioning again, he bade them bow their heads so he could slip the chains around their necks. Briana stifled a gasp, was the chain hers to keep? She’d never owned gold in her life.
Father Vestavius bade them bow again and placed his hands on their heads. "Weylyn and Briana, you are now husband and wife." With quick, practiced hands, he untied the ribbon and the vine, then winked at Weylyn. "You may kiss your wife now."
Weylyn turned and drew her into his arms as he’d done so many times within the past few days. But this time the kiss was different, sweet and tender. The look in his eyes told her this was only a beginning. She brushed a tear from her eye, too overcome with emotion to speak. If someone had told her one moonphase ago that she would be his wife someday, she would have told that person he was demented.
Weylyn, oh, Weylyn, my love!
Holding hands, she and Weylyn headed for the dining room with the others, where a magnificent feast awaited them.
Queen Cinnie clapped her hands. "Come now! Let us all enjoy the wedding feast. Later, the love birds will have time to themselves," she said with a teasing look their way. "For now, we will gather together to wish them well."
Next to Weylyn and too excited to eat much, Briana dabbed at the food, then considered the time and effort the kitchen staff must have spent on all the lovely dishes--the roast duckling in a wine sauce, the trout flavored with lemon and thyme, paper-thin slices of ham, not to mention countless vegetables and a white wine to accompany the dinner. How could she eat all this? But she did, for besides not wanting to hurt the feelings of the kitchen staff, she hated to waste food. She fingered her gold chain, a symbol of her union with Weylyn, and knew greater happiness than she’d ever thought possible. She reminded herself yet again that she’d never known such kindness, such good will, as she and Weylyn had found with these people. Yet all the time she wanted to be alone with her husband.
He leaned her way and spoke in low tones. "Are you thinking the same thing I am?"
Made bold by either the wine or happiness, she placed her hand on his thigh. "I don’t know. What are you thinking?"
He leaned ever closer and placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers creeping upwards. "That I can hardly wait to have you alone."
"Now, now," said one of the queen’s ministers across the table. "None of that whispering. Time enough for that later."
As if caught in a crime, they drew apart. Briana’s face warmed yet again, and it occurred to her that within the past few days, she’d blushed enough to last her for the rest of her life.
After a dinner that must have stretched for hours, two of the staff brought a wedding cake, a three-tiered cake with white icing, while other servants cleared their plates and left dessert plates at her own place. Inwardly, she groaned, convinced she couldn’t eat another bite.
"Now, Briana, you must cut the cake." Queen Cinnie gestured toward the long knife beside the confection, and Briana rose to do the honors, passing the plates around, the first one to the queen.
At the completion of the meal, Weylyn drew her close again. "Will we have time to ourselves now?" he murmured. Pressing close to his body, loving the feel of him, she wondered the same. Did the queen have anything else planned?
Ah, yes, she did! Dancing! Briana sighed inwardly but kept her smile frozen in place as the many guests headed for the ballroom, a splendid room with several crystal candelabras holding hundreds of candles, and a four-piece band on a marble dais. Unfamiliar with the dances, she and Weylyn stood back to watch the others, until they found the dances were really quite simple, some performed in groups, other dances only for couples. The fairies whirled and dipped and clapped their hands to the light, airy music of the string band. Couples kept their distance from others, careful that their wings wouldn’t tangle. In no time, Briana and Weylyn joined them, loving the feel, the beat of the music, ethereal melodies like nothing she’d ever heard. During dances and between love glances, they exchanged wry looks, she counting the minutes until they could be by themselves, despite her enjoyment of the dancing.
At the queen’s signal, the dancing ended, and Briana wondered what more was to come. A circus, no doubt, with jugglers and clowns! But no, the queen bade one of the ever present servants, Laurella, to show them to their room, while she and the guests wished them a good night.
"Not that you’ll get much sleep." The Minister of
Forests laughed at his own joke, the others joining in.
Embarrassed, Briana found her voice. "Your Majesty," she said, her gaze covering all the guests, "Weylyn and I thank you for all you’ve done for us, for the beautiful wedding ceremony, such a fine dinner, and the dancing. So much you have done for us, given us. We shall remember these moments for the rest of our lives."
Weylyn placed his arm around her waist, his body warm and solid. "Allow me to add my gratitude to that of my wife. We both thank you from the bottom of our hearts."
Queen Cinnie waved her hand. "Think nothing of it. It makes us happy to do these things for you."
As the servant led them up the stairs, Briana could think of nothing but her new husband, how she loved and wanted him this one man in the world she longed to share her days and nights with for the rest of their lives.
Laurella showed them to their bedchamber, another spacious room, this one with a large canopied bed. "Here are your new clothes." She indicated the large clothes press in a corner of the chamber. Three candles in crystal holder sat on an oval table next to their bed, and these the servant lit, then curtsied and left them, closing the door behind her.
Alone at last, she faced Weylyn and swallowed, not knowing what to say. But soon, she found there was no need for words, no need for anything but their love. Without quite knowing how it happened, she found herself in bed with him their clothes discarded on a chair.
He reached for her and held her close to his chest, so close she could feel his heart beating. "I thought the evening would never end," he murmured in her ear.
"Me, too, darling, and yet, they have been so good to us.
"True, true, can’t deny that." He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I could spend the rest of my days relating all they have done for us, but I can think of better things to do."
She smiled in the dim candlelight. She would not reveal her apprehension, for surely he knew she had never traveled this road before. "Better things to do? Like what?"
"Shall I show you?" he asked teasingly.
"Please do." Her heart beat fast with anticipation, with wanting him, loving him, with waiting for she knew not what.
"Ah, sweetheart." He kissed her long and deeply, his fingers tracing a path from her breasts to her stomach, when he paused and drew back. "I know this will be the first time for you," he said in that husky voice she loved. "And I’ll try to be gentle. But oh, if you only knew how I have yearned for you, not just these past few days but for years and years."
She pressed a kiss to his lips, then to his throat. "The same for me. I have wanted you for ages." With a boldness she never dreamed she possessed, she caressed him, her fingers finding his sensitive places, drawing gasps of pleasure from him.
"Briana, my wife!"
He entered her, and despite a twinge of pain, she gloried in his body, every part of him.
"Yes, Weylyn, yes! I love you!"
One by one, the candles flickered out, but their fire--hers and Weylyn’s--lasted throughout the night.
* * * *
Weylyn awoke the next morning, at first confused by his presence in the large bed. He saw Briana asleep beside him, her long blonde hair tousled, her firm breasts tempting him. With a rush of happiness, it all came back to him--their handfasting ceremony, the dinner and dancing but more than all else, their lovemaking, repeated again and again during the night.
A sweet languor claimed him, a desire to stay in bed and do nothing but make love to his wife. But a niggling obligation plagued his conscience, the knowledge that they couldn’t stay in this country forever. They must return to Maith Fearann and face whatever judgment the druids would mete out, for surely he had failed in his duty, no matter the fog.
When Briana murmured in her sleep and turned onto her side, he dismissed all thoughts of returning, his only desire to take her in his arms and make love again.
She blinked her eyes and looked wildly around, her gaze finally settling on him. She stretched and smiled and without a word, opened her arms to him. They made love once more, a sweet yet passionate lovemaking, this time without the urgency of their first coupling.
Later, while they dressed to go downstairs, he knew he could no longer postpone the nagging obligation that refused to leave his mind. "Briana...."
"I know." In her linen shift, she slipped her new yellow cotton dress over her head, her voice muffled through the cloth. She straightened the frock around her waist and hips. "We can’t stay here for the rest of our lives. We must return to Maith Fearann."
In his blue tunic, he looked down into her eyes. "One thing I can tell you for certain...."
"Yes?"
He embraced her. "I love you very much." Enclosing her in his arms, feeling her heart beat in rhythm with his, he knew he could face anything life might throw his way, could surmount any obstacle, as long as he had her by his side. He kissed her long and lingeringly, as if their night together had never happened. Raising his head, he kissed her forehead, loving the feel of her, the spicy fragrance, her softness and warmth. Sighing, he released her and returned to his dressing. If he wasn’t careful, he’d become aroused all over again. Indeed, he could feel the tightening in his loins.
He sat down to pull on his trousers and stepped into his boots, then tucked his trousers inside his boots.
Briana slipped on her own shoes, the new ones with the silver buckle. "But how will we get back? And will we return to the circle of stones?"
He drew on his belt and buckled it. "The very same thing I’ve wondered."
Her eyes widened. "What if we can’t go back? What if we’re stuck here for the rest of our lives?"
"I’m sure there is a simple manner of return." Yet he spoke with more confidence than he felt. "I must talk to the queen today about our going back." He paused, unsure how to broach the subject to his wife. "Briana, I’ve been thinking...."
"About me," she said with a teasing smile, soon replaced by a worried frown. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"When we return to our own country, I’d like to relinquish my position as an enforcer. Until now, I’ve accepted it, nay, reveled in it because the job gave me a sense of power. What I’d really like to do as my life’s work is carpentry. I’ve always enjoyed wood working, did I ever tell you that?"
"You made the shelf for me in my bedchamber years ago."
"Ah, yes, so that is what I want for the rest of my life." He grinned. "Besides making love to you." He looked around the room. "Shall we go downstairs now?"
* * * *
"Easy enough to return." In the morning room, the queen poured them spicy tea from the silver teapot. Only the three of them sat at the small table. "We have a special ladder that leads up to the portal, the same portal you came from. When you get to the top, within the circle of stones, you must push the opening back, so that all trace of the portal vanishes." She smiled with confidence. "You’ll see, not difficult at all."
"Madam," Briana spoke at his side. "We have no words to express our thanks for your kindness."
"But you want to go back to your own country. I understand. I’d feel the same way myself."
Weylyn raised the teacup to his mouth, then set it back down, waiting for the steaming brew to cool. "Madam, if you should ever come to our country...."
"Thank you, but surely you must see I’d be out of place in Maith Fearann." She gestured toward her wings. "But I thank you for the invitation, just the same." She smiled briskly. "Now, when do you want to leave?"
"As soon as possible." A spurt of embarrassment warmed his face. "What I mean is, we must return. Obligations and duties, you understand."
"Of course, don’t worry." She clapped her hands for one of the servants hovering nearby. "Pack these people a basket of food to last them for...." She threw him a questioning glance.
"Five days should do it, madam. You are more than kind." He sipped his tea, thinking of all he wanted to say, words that no doubt would remain unsaid.
PART IV: The Return
"It’s not as far as it looks." At his side, the queen gave him a reassuring smile. "When your get to the top, you’ll see an opening that will take you straight to the circle of stones. Once there--on your own land--push the opening back, making sure it is locked in place. We all wish you a happy journey back to your own village."
Weylyn swallowed as conflicting emotions roiled inside him. Overjoyed to be returning to his own land, he knew he would miss these kind fairies, these lovely creatures who had given them so much, not just in a material sense, but a different outlook on life. He wrapped his arms around Briana’s waist and looked into her eyes, seeing the same emotions reflected in them.
"I fear we must bid you farewell, madam." His gaze encompassed the group. "We have no words to express our gratitude for all you’ve done."
"The pleasure is ours, sir." On her tiptoes, she tried to kiss his cheek. He bent low to make it easier for her, and a rush of affection for her and all these fairies rendered him speechless.
After kissing his cheek, she did the same with Briana and stood back, brushing a tear from her eye. "Well, be on your way, then, and we wish you well in all that you do."
"And you, too, madam." Briana’s eyes, too, misted, her voice choking. "Thank you so much for everything."
Weylyn glanced around, as if there was more that he must say or do, then looked back at his wife. His eyes strayed to the ladder, its steps reaching up to what looked like nothing. Braced against the wall, the ladder appeared to go on forever. He saw nothing but blackness at the top.