“He let her go, interested as she turned time and again ta catch another glimpse o’ him as she traipsed back ta her village.
“He returned on th’ next full moon and she was thaur waiting. When he approached softly, she held out a tentative hand. As she brushed th’ fur on his neck with her fingertips, he sighed, amazed ta find th’ stories had been true. Th’ touch o’ a mortal was like nay other. He leaned inta her hand ta get more. Emboldened, she buried her hands in his soft fur, whispering soft endearments and prayers ta th’ gods for showing their favor.
“Each full moon they met and he carried her ta vistas so beautiful, in this world and Tir-Na-Nog, as ta make her weep. She lay close ta his side as she watched waterfalls, sunsets, or th’ waves crashing on th’ shore o’ a remote beach. Once, she nuzzled close and whispered words o’ love into his neck.
“Cernunnos heard this, but until then had nay idea wha’ th’ feeling building in him was. His heart rejoiced, and he shifted inta his godly form, th’ form o’ man, but unlike any man kent ta earth. Cernunnos is th’ horned god, so while a man, magnificent in form, he had th’ antlers o’ th’ buck, shortened as a sign o’ his office and duty.
“She shifted ta give him freedom o’ movement, but when she eased back ta lounging, it was inta th’ arms o’ Cernunnos. He held her tight as th’ shock turned ta recognition. He took her lips in a tender kiss and caught th’ soft cries as she rose ta meet him on th’ mossy embankment, as he filled her with th’ seed o’ a god.”
Alex moved closer to Brenawyn to look down into her expectant face, his voice almost a whisper, “Each full moon, he would meet her in his true form, gladdened ta see th’ bairn quickening in her body. He showered her with jewels and treasure, insisting she’d keep them for th’ bairn when she refused for herself. She never asked him for anything, knowing it wasna his ta give. In return, he didna ask about her life in the village, both knowing thaur was nothing ta be done. They’d make love softly, slowly, stretching it out ta remember each touch, each kiss, each embrace, ta hold them ta th’ next full moon.”
Alex paused, and it was Brenawyn who broke the trance, sighing, “How desperately romantic.”
He shook his head to clear it and took a step back, “Aye, I suppose.”
“What happened when the baby was born?”
“Och tha’s whaur it turns tragic.”
“How so?”
“Ignorant minds o’ men and th’ rage of an Auld One. The bairn was ne’er born.”
“Oh.” Brenawyn frowned as she strolled to the East-facing standing stone. “How did the class respond?”
“Mixed reactions, but for th’ most part like you.”
She nodded and circled the stone, letting her fingers trace a prominent dark vein.
Brenawyn gave this thought as she strolled to the East-facing standing stone, “This is aligned with the rising sun?” She looked back over her shoulder and when he nodded, “Then it seems that this would be the obvious place to start, but I’m drawn to the North stone.
Walking to the stone, she placed her hand reverently upon it, “Yes, this seems right. Start with the North, then go…South...and then West…yes, yes, that’s the way. Ending with spirit in the center”
She walked to the center of the circle and knelt. Brenawyn smiled and held out her hand. “Join me. You should know this better than I do. I don’t know the actual words, if there are any that remain. But given your background, you would be the person to ask—but wait. This wouldn’t be seen as disrespectful would it? I’m not a Druid, or even believe in any of this.”
“No, it wouldna as long as yer intent was pure. Th’ ceremony is one o’ thanksgiving. All that is required is for th’ person, ye, ta be thankful for th’ bounty o’ th’ Earth.”
“Well, I’m not a farmer. I didn’t pick the fruit and vegetables I ate with dinner, nor did I slaughter the chicken. They were all bought from the supermarket, but I am thankful that it was there for me to purchase to feed my family. Do you think that counts?”
“Aye, that will dae, then. Society has come a long way since th’ hunter-gatherer days.”
“Ok, so are there any formal words for this?”
Surprised that she was so moved by his words that she thought she should try to abide by the ancient custom, he went to join her. Mimicking her posture, he reached for her hands, “Aaricht. Close yer eyes.” She did so smiling. “And clear yer mind o’ everything—all thoughts, worries, fears. Thaur is nothing but ye.”
Pausing, Alex looked at her face and the slight lines in her forehead as they slowly relaxed. When her breathing changed to a deeper, more rhythmical cadence, he knew that she was ready.
“Noo, imagine th’ grass; th’ length, th’ color, each individual blade.” Opening her hands he placed them, palms down in the grass. “Th’ grass is cool. And if ye were ta pick one blade it would give easily, but a clump or more is stronger. Can ye feel tha’ strength? Even in each individual blade strength resides, springy and resilient; th’ grass ye are sitting on, pressed doon by yer weight, will regain its form when ye leave. Noo imagine th’ roots o’ th’ grass, matted and tangled just under th’ surface. Vying for water th’ sky gives, th’ nutrients th’ earth supplies. This is th’ force from which ye must get permission.” Taking her out of time and away from the modern conveniences, she could be a Druid preparing ta celebrate the summer solstice. “Noo, speak the words.”
Brenawyn’s brow wrinkled and she began to shake her head to which Alex interrupted, “Nay, thaur are nay words I can teach ye. They are from th’ heart, Brenawyn.”
Eyes closed she began, “Mother Earth, hear my plea. I come to you pure of heart and clear of mind to praise you. Grant me permission to give adoration in the Old Ways.” Brenawyn paused for a moment and placed a kiss in each of her palms then pressed them into the grass.
The ground hummed with magic. There was no breeze, yet grass ruffled against her hands. The Earth rose to her call—significant.
He stared at her lovely countenance as a smile played at the corners of her generous lips. Did she sense it?
“Do you believe in magic?” she asked as she opened her eyes.
“I…um, aye. Magic is all around us, but ‘tis subtle, usually,” Alex responded, looking into Brenawyn’s eyes again. “Are ye ready ta go back?”
Brenawyn shook herself, as if coming out of a trance, “Mmm, yes it’s getting late.” She rose, brushing the backside of her shorts as she did so. Brenawyn took a step towards him, but he backed up and refused to take her hand.
He needed to temper his excitement and quell his trembling hands before he touched her, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and said courteously, “I’ll take ye home.”
They walked back in silence, and Brenawyn was thankful for it. She was at a loss for words. Had she misread his signals? Did she do something that turned him off? He agreed to walk with her, then he had been telling her about the circle, and then…it must have been the circle. Did he think that she was being disrespectful? That wasn’t her intention. Hesitantly she put a hand on his arm and stopped him, “Did I do something that angered you?”
Alex looked searchingly in her eyes, “Nay, o’ course no’.” He offered a half-smile and took her hand again.
As they approached the Rising Moon, voices raised in a heated argument pierced the stillness. “Doesn’t that sound like Maggie?”
“Aye, it does. Shite.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I couldnae find the bastart streen nor the day…”
Brenwyn shook her head, “What?”
“Och,” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath, purposely slowing down his rate of speech, “I apologize. I was looking for him. He laid his hands on her…”
Brenawyn stopped and grabbed his arm, swinging him around to face her, “He hit her?”
“Aye, innit wha’ I’ve been saying?”
“God damn him! That son of a bitch! When I get my hands on hi
m...”
“Thaur they are,” Alex pointed to the shadowed alley opening a block and half away. “Listen, Brenawyn. When I get him awa’ from her, take Maggie to yer place. Doonae wait for me. Once thaur, call the police.”
Benawyn wasn’t listening, and it was Alex’s turn to grab hold of her arm to stop her from striding in half-cocked. “Brenawyn. Brenawyn. Repeat it.”
“What?”
“Repeat it back ta me. Wha’ are ye going ta dae?”
“Grab Maggie. Take her back to the house. Call the police.”
“Guid. Let’s go.”
Brenawyn had to run to keep up with his gait. “What are you going to do, Alex?”
“I am going ta try to nay kill him.”
They approached on silent feet. Buchanan had Maggie pinned against the brick wall, his hand a vise around her neck.
“Take yer hands aff o’ her noo.”
“Mind your own fucking business, old man,” as Buchanan cocked his free arm back, fist bunched, ready to deliver another blow.
Things happened at once. Moving from next to her, Alex growled and tackled him to the ground. Without the support, Maggie started to sink to the ground, Brenawyn grabbed her, and pulled Maggie towards her. Maggie’s small weight almost took them both down, but at the last instant Brenawyn’s footing steadied, and with a quick backward glance, she saw the two men grappling for purchase on the ground, punches finding their targets. Brenawyn said a quick prayer for Alex, but did as she was told. She ran with Maggie, taking most of her weight the short distance to the Rising Moon. She fumbled to remove her keys from her pocket and get the door open.
Leo appeared at the top of the stairs as they entered the vestibule, and Brenawyn belted out instructions, “Call the police, get the med kit,” as Maggie choked and wheezed, fighting to get air. “Jesus, we need an ambulance too!”
Topping the stairs, Brenawyn brought Maggie into the kitchen, where Leo had the med kit opened on the table. “Here sit at the table.”
“No, floor. I need…” she gasped, “I feel—
“Okay, here let me help you.” Brenawyn pivoted Maggie’s body and got a hold under her arms, levering her to the floor with her back braced against the wall. Once down, Maggie started to wilt, Brenawyn caught her and cradled her head, “Maggie, sweetie, do you want to lie down on your side?”
A nod.
“All right, Nana, roll up that towel there and give it to me.” She placed it under the girl’s head. Maggie started to shiver. “Get me a blanket from the other room. Spencer, come here, boy. Lie down here.” The dog sniffed Maggie and stretched out with a grunt, edging back so his body bolstered hers. Maggie was barely conscious, but managed to drape her arm over the dog.
The doorbell rang and Brenawyn and Leo stared at each other. “Did you lock the door, Bren?”
“I don’t remember. Here stay here with her. I’ll go and…”
“But what if it’s him?”
“If it is, and I didn’t manage to get the door locked? I need to find a weapon.” She gained her feet and looked around the room eyeing the marble rolling pin on the counter. She reached the landing in three strides, brandishing the pin as a cudgel, but saw through the glass that it was Alex at the door. She flew down the stairs, ripped the locks open. She was surprised that she had not only managed to lock the door but throw the dead bolt too. She was in his arms as soon as the door was opened, feeling for injury, assessing his condition.
“Doonae dae that,” he squirmed.
“Ooh, I’m sorry. Does that hurt? Do you think he’s broken a rib?”
“No, ah’m no’ injured, lass. It tickles is all.”
Brenawyn pulled back to look him in the eye. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
“Brenawyn, ah am no’ hurt. How’s the lassie?”
“Oh, thank the Lord for small mercies. Maggie probably needs to go to the hospital. Nana’s called 911. What of Buchanan?”
“Ah, the couart ran as soon as he could. It didna last long after ye left. I gave chase ta see if he’d circle back ‘round. He’s gone for the noo.”
On the porch, after the police and the EMTs left, Brenawyn locked the door and turned to face Alex. “Do you know that your accent gets much stronger when you’re upset?”
Smiling, “Aye, I ha’ been told tha’ it dae.”
Brenawyn stood on her toes to plant a soft kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Thank you, for what you’ve done for Maggie tonight.”
Surprised by the sudden contact, he inhaled her scent of jasmine and roses, and before she could move away he wrapped his arm about her waist, pulled her nearer, and kissed her back. Her lips were soft and pliant and she melted into him. Taking this as a sign of acceptance, he moved to deepen the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. She reached up to bury her hands in his hair, and he tightened his grip around her waist. Breaking off, he kissed her mouth, her cheek, her earlobe, and down her neck. Glancing up, he caught their reflection in the glass of the window. Her shirt had ridden up an inch or so and his hand partly covered the silky skin of her exposed back. On his hand and half way up his arm glowed iridescent runes. He stiffened and began to pull away. Brenawyn made a soft protest, but relinquished her hold on him.
Misreading the look on his face, she mumbled apologies, abashed by her wanton behavior. She didn’t know what had come over her. Alex pulled her chin up so she was looking at him, “Doonae apologize. Let’s go collect yer family.”
Chapter 9
The morning of the ceremony dawned, and Brenawyn busied herself with her morning ablutions, deciding to dress in a white smocked eyelet sundress. She had returned to the room to put the finishing touches to her make-up when she went utterly still as she looked down on the dressing table. Guilt washed over her as she glimpsed a familiar gold ring settled in the velvet of her open jewelry box.
She slid on the ring, feeling its familiar weight at the base of her finger, and she was back there. Candlelight glowed in the cozy community church. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish… Liam brought her hand up to his lips as he slipped the ring on her finger and sealed it with a kiss. From this day forward until death do you part.
Death.
She ripped the ring off and shoved it in the bottom of the dresser drawer.
Her therapist’s words echoed in her head. It was acceptable to begin to have feelings for another man. In fact, how many times had he urged her to start dating? Before, she felt that it would be disloyal, or worse yet, unfaithful to the man she claimed to have loved, if she were to date again. The fact that she hadn’t had one thought of Liam this morning, or during the last week when she was with Alex, scared her more than the thought of dating faceless bland men whom she would quickly decide she had nothing in common.
Just a span of hours later, the memory of the vows she had made long ago again fell by the wayside when she walked into the office to retrieve the robe and took in Alex swathing his naked hips in a striking kilt of red and green plaid. Perhaps he didn’t hear the click of the door over the din of the busy storefront? What’s the harm in looking, she tried to justify in her head as she leaned against the door jamb, but a squeak from the damned hinges had Alex look up.
“Hello, Brenawyn.” He finished belting the kilt and turned to meet her gaze. “Sorry, Leo told me ta use th’ office ta change since I didna want ta walk from my apartment haur like this.”
Her face must have given her away—it was on fire—because he sauntered over, lowering his voice to a flirtatious whisper, enjoying her apparent discomfort, “It causes too much trouble for my taste, with th’ lasses swooning, and their men looking for a fight. Are ye in danger of swooning, lass?” he asked playfully.
Brenawyn rolled her eyes and gave a half-hearted attempt at an insouciant shrug, but she was too distracted by fantasies involving her tongue and the swirling tattoos in crimson and indigo that decorated the right side of his tigh
tly-sculpted chest and abdomen. “Of course not. I don’t swoon.”
She tried to tear her eyes away, but they were drawn back to the red and blue, so vibrant, so very vibrant, on his golden skin.
“Did you just get these?” She put out a tentative hand, but stopped mid-reach as embarrassment hit. She was shocked that she had been about to touch his naked chest without an invitation to do so.
He closed the meager distance and trapped her hand against his chest. “I have had these for more years than I care to remember.”
The pressure of his hand over hers relaxed and she traced part of a curve with a fingertip, “Do they have any meaning, or are they just designs?”
Alex stepped away, putting a hand to his rib cage. She could swear a look of sadness crossed his face, but he twisted to pace away into the small office. Reaching the opposite wall, he turned and leaned back on the credenza.
“Thaur’s a myth about a man who was enslaved by Cernunnos.” With a sweep of his hand indicating the tattoos, “These are the embodiment of the incantation to make him immortal, temporarily, to serve the god’s will.”
“What did the god want of him?”
“His continuing task is ta find th’ god’s daughter who was lost ta th’ ages.”
“Another child?”
“Ah, th’ ways and will o’ th’ gods is no’ for mortals ta judge.”
“But why didn’t the god go after her himself if he was so concerned?”
“Perhaps it was ta save her from fright. She didna ken tha’ she was th’ daughter o’ a god, and perhaps he was concerned tha’ his countenance would frighten her.”
“The daughter never knowing her father, the father forever mourning his daughter, and the man searching ceaselessly to find her, and he but a slave himself—very sad.” Brenawyn considered the story. “The story is Celtic?”
“Yes, why?”
“Being an expert in the field of Celtic mythology, I thought you’d have a deeper insight into what it reveals about its people or their customs.”
Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy Page 7
