“You sent for me?” Nidaba asked, closing the chamber door, turning to face Arianna.
“Aye.” Arianna stopped pacing and gathered her courage. “I need to ask something of you, Nidaba. An’ I fear you’ll turn me down, for I know you disapprove of my wedding Nicodimus.”
Nidaba averted her eyes. “It is not my place to approve or disapprove of your marriage, child.”
Arianna lowered her head. “But you do, all the same. I hope you will change your mind one day, Nidaba, for I have come to admire you above any female I have known.” Arianna looked up again to see the normally unreadable eyes wide with surprise, the lips slightly parted. “Does that surprise you? You’re a strong woman, Nidaba. Independent. Getting along in this world somehow all on your own. And Nicodimus has told me of your skills in battle.”
Nidaba schooled her features. “What is it you want of me, child?”
Arianna tilted her head. “What do you know of this dark enemy Nicodimus encountered yesterday?”
Nidaba’s eyes shifted away, toward the window. “Likely less than you do. Why?”
Arianna shrugged. “I dinna suppose it matters. Only that my husband could have been killed. An’ if it had come to that, I’d have been of no help to him.”
Meeting Arianna’s eyes this time, Nidaba smiled. “You think Nicodimus needs your help, little one?”
“I only know that if he ever should need it, I want to be able to give it.” Arianna squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “I want you to teach me to fight, Nidaba. An’ I dinna want you tellin’ Nicodimus about it, for I know he would likely object.”
Blinking several times, Nidaba studied her for a long moment. And then, without an argument or a question, she simply said, “Yes.”
Arianna gasped. “Yes?” She couldn’t believe the woman had agreed so easily.
“Yes. It is a skill you’ll need to master sooner or later anyway. So, yes. I’ll teach you. In secret.”
Smiling broadly, Arianna clasped Nidaba’s hand. “Thank you, Nidaba.”
Nidaba only nodded, and turned toward the door. She paused with her back to Arianna. “I . . . could stay, if you like. Assist you in preparing yourself for the wedding.”
Arianna felt as if she might finally have gained a measure of acceptance from the strange, powerful woman. “I would like that very much. You could shadow my eyes again, aye?”
Turning, Nidaba nodded, and offered Arianna a tentative, and very slight smile, for the first time.
* * * *
SHE CAME TO me on the steps of the keep’s small chapel, and I caught my breath. For the first time I saw the full extent of the danger represented by this one small woman. For the first time, I realized, I would never be able to withstand a full-scale assault on my senses such as the one she seemed determined to launch. Oh, I had thought I could. I had told myself so. But now I knew what a fool I had been to believe it, even for a moment.
Arianna wore silk as white as snow, which had been cleverly shaped to cup and lift her breasts, and hug tight ‘round her small waist. Snugly covering–but not really covering–her arms were sleeves of delicate lace, which allowed incredibly seductive glimpses of creamy skin. Her hair had been rinsed in henna, so it gleamed like sunshine with highlights of honey gold, and spilled about her shoulders, threaded through with tiny flowers–heather, forget-me-nots, and baby’s breath. Her eyes–lined by the unmistakable hand of Nidaba–seemed somehow older, wiser, and a hundred times more sensual than before. And they shone with nervous excitement. Her lips were full and rosy and shining.
She came to me, and I could not take my eyes from her. Not to look toward the village priest as he spoke his words over us, nor even to spare him a glance when I repeated my vows. I could not stop staring at Arianna. The little cat who had somehow been transformed into a regal bride. Maiden bride. My bride.
Before my eyes she promised to love me, to obey me, to remain loyal only to me. In her small face was such solemn sincerity that I knew they were not just words. Not to her. She meant every vow she spoke. She would honor them. Her promises were real, and she would expect mine to be as well.
Honoring my vows to her . . . would not be difficult, I realized slowly. Keeping them would be no chore at all.
A tear slipped from her doe-brown eyes and glistened upon her satin cheek when I put my ring upon her finger. I leaned forward, brushed my lips across her face, and kissed the tear away. “It will be all right,” I promised softly. Surprise and what looked very much like hope lit her eyes as she stared at me. Then at the priest’s word, she let them fall closed and swayed very gently toward me. I caught her up in my arms, and pressed my lips to hers. It was to have been tender, our wedding kiss. It was to have been sweet and reassuring.
It became something far different. Because her soft lips trembled ever so slightly when mine pressed against them. And her hands, feather-light and hesitant, fluttered and then pressed against my back. Then her body seemed to melt into mine. My hands had rested gently at her waist, until that soft sigh and tiny tremor that went through her. Shyly, she dared use her tongue to trace the shape of my lips. Then I forgot exactly why I had been determined to kiss her so gently. I forgot everything: who I was, who she was . . . and what we both were. My arms locked ‘round her, and pulled her roughly to me. My mouth opened over hers, and my tongue pushed between her lips, stroking deep. I pressed her hips to mine, shamelessly rubbing against her as I drank my fill from her mouth. And even as I plundered her, I felt her response. Shock, yes, but arousal, too. She arched against me, arms twining ‘round my neck, fingers digging their way into my hair. She tilted her head to grant my mouth greater access, and parted her lips willingly to my invasion. Her breasts pressed so tight to my chest that I could feel the pebbling of her nipples even through our clothes, and I imagined the feel of them between my fingertips . . . my lips.
The priest cleared his throat . . . loudly.
Slowly, I raised my head, parting my lips from those of my responsive little bride. But I didn’t take my arms from ‘round her. It took only a glance into her stunned and confused eyes to know that I could not. She would likely collapse if I let her go now. Her hands were trembling, her knees quivered. Her eyes were glazed and shining and wide. Her lips swollen and wet and hungry. She was breathing in quick, shallow little puffs. And she pressed one hand to her belly as if to calm the riot going on within. Desire was what she felt, I knew that. Though I was unsure she could correctly identify it. I knew no one else in the chapel would have any trouble. Particularly if they noticed the bulge beneath my kilt.
What had I done?
She held my gaze, and the stunned expression in her trusting brown eyes gradually gave way to a tentative smile. She slipped her small hand into my large one and we turned to receive our blessings from the clan crowding the chapel, filling all the pews and spilling out the door. Everyone in Stonehaven had come to see us joined.
Almost everyone.
The intruder was not here. For that I was grateful.
Chapter 9
I COULD NOT frown upon the revelry Joseph had planned for the bridal feast. The doors to the keep had been thrown wide, and huge platters mounded with roasted meats, fish, and savory pastries were set upon all the tables lining the great hall. The entire clan was here to partake of the festivities. Jugs of heather ale, mead, and even precious wine were passed around freely, and mugs overflowed as all imbibed. Torches were lit in the courtyard as the celebration grew and spilled out beyond the confines of the hall. There was even a minstrel who moved hither and yon, strumming his lute and singing of love everlasting.
It was sad to hear of such things as those of which the mistral sang, when I knew full well nothing was truly forever. I’d seen too much come and pass to believe otherwise.
But the wine and ale flowed like the twin rivers of Nidaba’s homeland, and the food never seemed to run low. Feasting, dancing, singing, all of it ran together. Arianna was tugged away from me early on, pulled i
nto the embrace of her family, and false-faced villagers (who, I reminded myself grimly, had been all too ready to see her hanged and burned only days ago.)
I found myself torn. One side of me wanting to go, to enjoy the festivities and let Arianna find her own way back to me. The other side, unable to do so. Unable to stop craning my neck to find her through the crowd. To make certain she was well, and safe, and not afraid nor tormented in any way.
Spotting her, I shook my head. Since when did Arianna Sinclair–Arianna Lachlan–allow anyone to torment her? It was a nonsensical thought. And yet, she’d seemed so vulnerable today. So utterly open and vulnerable . . . to me. Only to me.
I gave up trying not to, and made my way through the crowd to her. I found her in deep conversation with the whelp who had cut her to see if she would bleed. My ire rose, my hand clenched into a fist, and my teeth, in all likelihood, bared.
“But that’s when I realized what a fool I had been,” the whelp was saying. “An’ I’ll never be able to apologize enough for hurtin’ you. Never in all my days.”
“Not if you live to be a hundred and ten,” I put in, stepping close to Arianna, and in spite of myself, slipping a possessive arm around her shoulders.
“Oh nonsense, Nicodimus,” Arianna said with a soft laugh. One that was off in some way, one that spoke of mischief. She was up to something. I looked down and saw that gleam in her eyes, and knew I should quiet her, and fast. I eyed the near-empty mug in her hand and wondered how many times it had been filled with wine. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes more sparkling than usual, and we had yet to sit down to the feast.
“I can forgive you, Angus. If you can forgive yourself. After all, you must feel a terrible fool for what you did. Far worse than the pain you inflicted on me, was the uselessness of the entire endeavor.”
“Arianna,” I warned.
“Uselessness?” Angus echoed.
“Aye, that foolish old superstition that says a true witch willna bleed if you cut her.”
“S-superstition?”
“Aye, indeed. You saw for yourself the murder of The Crones. You . . . were there, were you not?”
Angus lowered his head. “Aye, I was there. An’ ashamed I am to admit I did nothi to prevent it. I know you were fond of them.”
“Yes, well, many of us were,” I said, tugging at her arm.
“If you were there,” Arianna rushed on, “then you must have seen their blood flow.”
His head coming up fast, Angus looked at her, wide-eyed. “What’s this now?”
“Aye, those dear ladies didna go to the noose without a struggle. They fought, and were cut, and when they were, Angus, they bled.” She lifted her brows high. “Just. Like. Me.”
“Damnation, Arianna. . .”
Angus interrupted me. Then . . . then they were nay witches at all?” he asked, eyes bulging.
“Oh, but they were. They were true witches, through and through.” Arianna tossed her hair behind her shoulder, and finally allowed me to pull her away, leaving Angus gaping and pale faced behind us.
I tugged her behind a tapestry, my hand firm on her arm, and made her face me. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
Her smile didn’t so much as waver. “Putting the fear of the Goddess into him. Dinna fear, Nicodimus, I admitted to nothing.”
“No, just planted the seed in his fertile mind. He’ll be convinced you’re a witch before nightfall.”
“And what’s wrong with that? I am a witch.”
“What’s wrong with that? You saw what befell your mentors, Arianna, and yet you ask me what’s wrong with that?”
She glanced down at my hand on her arm. “You are hurting me.”
I eased my grip instantly, but didn’t let go. “I ought to be shaking you! Arianna, you’re so reckless! So impulsive, so—”
“So perfectly safe,” she interrupted. “As your wife, I’m safe. They wouldna dare harm me now, an’ well you know it. So why do you care if I exact a bit of revenge for the wrongs done me an’ mine? Hmm? What harm is there in letting young Angus spend the next several nights in a cold sweat, fearing my witchly retribution? Twill do him no harm!”
I sighed, exasperated with her to no end. “Twill do you harm, woman. Especially if he talks to others about the thoughts you’ve put into his head. This whole episode could turn itself back upon you.”
“Nay, it canna. For I have never felt safer than I do with you, my husband. An’ I plan to spend the next several nights wrapped up tight in your arms.” She snuggled close, twining her arms ‘round my waist and resting her head on my chest. “Surely no harm can befall me there.”
I stared down at her. My throat went dry. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and gleaming from beneath thickly curling lashes, were filled with promise . . . and desire. Clearing my throat, I managed to force words through my lips, though they emerged rather hoarse. “You know that is not the way it will be. I have told you this.”
“Aye, you have. But that was before our wedding kiss. An’ I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind.
“I gave you no reason to think that,” I said firmly, clasping her shoulders to move her slightly away from me.
“Nay? I rather thought near mating with me in front of the priest an’ the entire clan was reason to think so, Nicodimus. Forgive me, though, if I misread you.” Anger flashed in her eyes now.
I closed my eyes as painful memories reared up. I couldn’t live it again. Didn’t want to know her in that way, to come to cherish her any more than I already did, only to lose her. It would hurt too much. I would not love again, not ever. I had vowed it and I would keep that vow, for sanity’s sake.
“I’m sorry. What you’re thinking of can never be.”
Her gaze fell, but not before I’d seen disappointment and pain cloud her expression. “Then let Angus rouse the suspicions of this clan. Let them come for me. If I canna be with you, I’d just as soon be dangling from a limb.”
She whirled ‘round as she said it, and stomped off toward the high table.
She was angry. Well, let her be angry then. It would be for the best.
I strode after her and joined my bride at the high table. As I sat down, she tore a leg from a roasted capon, and bit into it with a fierceness that was completely unladylike.
* * * *
ARIANNA DONNED A nightshift so bold she could not believe she had the nerve to look at it, much less wear it. A wedding gift, presented to her by Nidaba during one of the more quiet moments of the celebration.
Sheer, made of a fabric she’d never seen before. Black, it hung to her ankles, but hid nothing. Every part of her was visible through the soft fabric. Arianna peered at a polished silver mirror, biting her lip. Even looking at herself dressed this way brought color to her cheeks. What would seeing Nicodimus looking at her do?
She snatched a blanket from the bed, and hastily tossed it around her shoulders. For now. Surely the courage to let it fall to the floor would come when she needed it. When Nicodimus . . . her husband . . . came through the chamber doors.
Her husband. Gods, to think of that man as her own. It was nearly too much for her mind to comprehend, and yet it was true. Or nearly true. She had yet to be his wife in the most important way. She had yet to lie in his arms, with less even than this scrap of cloth between them. She had yet to feel him inside her, filling her. Closing her eyes, she released a shuddering breath. It would be magic. True magic.
He would come to her. He would come to her soon.
Putting down the mirror, Arianna examined the room in which she and her husband were to spend their wedding night. Joseph had wisely assigned them to a chamber far from those used by the others. They would have complete privacy. Stone walls rose on all sides, with but a single window looking out and down to the outer walls, and the loch and woods beyond. She could not see the village from here. On one wall, a hearth stretched broadly, and a fire laid ready for the touch of a spark. Much like the fire inside her laid ready for the touch
of her true love’s hand.
His lips.
His body.
She closed her eyes against the roiling in the pit of her stomach . . . and lower. She was dizzy. Too much wine, surely.
When would he come? He should surely be here by now . . . if he intended to come to her at all tonight.
She whirled and stepped toward the door, even opened it a crack and peered out into the flickering, torchlit halls. But no sign of Nicodimus did she see.
He would come to her . . . wouldn’t he? He’d said he would not. He’d said her dreams of being with him could never be. But she’d been certain he would at least come in long enough to wish her good night . . . on their wedding night. And when he did . . . and when she let the blanket fall away and he saw her in this scandalous shift, he would be unable to leave her to her lonely bed. He would take her, making her his woman in every way.
But no footsteps echoed in the halls. No sound at all came to her.
“Oh, Nicodimus, please,” she whispered. “You wouldna leave me alone tonight. Not tonight, of all nights . . .” A tear burned in Ariannas eye as slowly she realized that was exactly what he intended to do.
The sound of hoof beats accompanied a chill night breeze through the window, and she hurried there. Hands braced on the stone sill, she leaned out, staring down into the darkness, to see the rider galloping away. Horse and rider both unmistakable to her longing eyes. Nicodimus. Leaving his wife behind.
Her tears burned away under the blazing heat of her anger. Arianna let her blanket fall away, and snatched a dark, hooded cloak from her chest. Throwing it around her, she yanked the door open and strode out into the cool corridor. He would not leave his bride behind on their wedding night. She would not allow him to.
* * * *
I FELT LIKE a brute for the first time in my life, that night. Arianna.... She was more than I could hope to resist, and I dared not face her. I knew too well what would happen between us if I went to her in the chamber where she waited. If I looked into those brown eyes and saw the raw yearning there as I had seen it earlier today when I had spoken my vows to her. If I touched her and felt the innocent trembling reaction of her body to mine. I knew she wanted . . . craved . . . what I could never give her. Not just coupling. I could provide that easily enough, and likely would have, had there been any way to keep her heart uninvolved. But it would not be possible with Arianna. It would mean more to her than the satisfaction of a physical hunger. It would mean I owned her, heart and soul. And that was a responsibility I did not want.
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series Page 46
