Divine by Mistake

by P. C. Cast

  The music was increasing in tempo, and Michelle/Terpsichore increased her seductive movements as she wove between the chaises. The centaurs sure were having a good ol’ time—they’d stopped chewing because they were so busy gawking. She really was a great dancer. Right now she was performing an amazing dance—sex and grace all rolled up together into one delectable ball. Kind of like Bob Fosse Does Swan Lake. Her sexy little hips were moving rhythmically and seemed to be calling every bit of erotic energy in the room to attention. She was making eye contact with each male audience member, and the nasty girl just touched herself!

  Which brings to mind the third of her three life passions—men. She adores men. Tall men, short men, hairy men, slick men, muscular men, lean men…etc., etc. She likes them all, as long as one part of their anatomy is big (no, I’m not talking about their wallets). Yes, she truly enjoys a big, hard penis more than any woman I know. With her it’s a veritable art form. She’s not exactly a slut—let’s just say that men are her hobby and, well, she stays incredibly busy.

  Her dance was climaxing, and she was working her way back toward center stage. There was no doubt about it—she was a sexy woman. Glancing at Mr. Ed I saw that he agreed with me; his rapt attention was centered on Michelle. She locked eyes with him as each pulse of the music drew her hips (and her scantily clad crotch) nearer and nearer his chaise.

  Because I wasn’t romantically attached to him, it was easy for me to watch the spell she wove around his hormones. With clinical detachment I realized this must be how Salome got Herod to chop off the Baptist’s head. At the closing chord she collapsed into a satiated heap in front of us as her audience erupted into thunderous cheers. She raised herself liquidly and took her bows. I was smiling, waiting to catch her eye. But the “attagirl” look I intended to telegraph to her froze on my face when she finally looked at me. The hostility in her gaze was no less obvious because it was quickly replaced with cold propriety.

  “Blessings to you at your handfast, Beloved of Epona.” Her voice was an odd mirror of Michelle’s. It sounded the same, but the words were hard and flat, totally devoid of the familiar warmth we share in another world. “I hope this mating brings you all the joy you so richly deserve.” With a visual caress to the mate she was wishing me joy with, she turned and floated back out of the room.

  Well, spank me and call me bad—I think I had just been insulted. And more and more I was wondering what Rhiannon had been up to. A little bird was telling me she might not be a nice girl. I glanced over at ClanFintan and noted he was still gazing, or should I say leering, at Michelle’s departing form.

  “She dances well, don’t you think?” Noting his guilty start, I smiled knowingly up into his eyes.

  “Yes, my Lady, she evokes Terpsichore’s presence well.” His voice had taken on a decidedly husky tint. He was almost purring. As we would say in Oklahoma, Sheeet boy, settle down!

  But instead of looking away from those eyes, which were still glazed with passion, and instead of being annoyed by that purring, husky voice, I found myself becoming intrigued. Under the pretense of leaning closer so that he could hear my whisper, I got all into his Personal Space.

  “Her dance was a blessing to our occasion.” Man, he was warm. I wasn’t even touching him and I could feel heat radiating from his body. Which, for some reason, made me want to giggle.

  Reciprocating, he leaned toward me, which did make me giggle. (Quick note to self: yellow light—wine alert!) Oh, well, a yellow light was just a warning.

  “The handfast dance is meant as more than a blessing.” He paused—my eyebrows raised, inviting him to continue. “It is typically used as an incentive.” On the last word his velvety voice dropped to match my whisper. “But as an Incarnate Goddess yourself, I am sure you are very aware of that.”

  Yipes.

  My eyes broke from his heated gaze to trace the length of his body as his did the same to mine.

  Had I forgotten that he was…well…a horse?

  As if by a will of its own, my body stiffened and sat straight up—definitely out of his Personal Space. My abrupt movement brought on a wave of dizziness, a blur to my vision and a throb to my head. The Yellow Wine Alert changed to Red.

  “Uh…” Trying to set my wine down, I totally missed the tabletop. Wine spilled all over. The goblet clattered and clanged. All attention was suddenly centered on moi.

  “My Lady, are you well?” God bless Alanna’s concerned sober little self.

  “Too much to drink…” I wished she would quit dividing into several Alannas. Blinking hard, I got her image to settle back into one person. As I rubbed my forehead I risked a look at ClanFintan. He was watching me closely.

  “You have overexerted yourself, Lady Rhiannon.” His attempt at concern felt more like a challenge. “For one so recently ill, today has been overtaxing.”

  Now, that was the understatement of the decade.

  “Perhaps it is time we retire.” Did he just smirk?

  “Uhhh!” The noise I made was somewhere between a shriek and a gasp. Retire? As in go to bed with him? In the Biblical sense? Where in the hell had my head been? Suddenly I realized I hadn’t really considered all of the ramifications of this handfast. Yes, I had discussed the consummation thing with Alanna—she had reassured me—but I didn’t know then that my intended was a horse! I had been worried about sex with a stranger, not bestiality! My stomach clenched. Please don’t let me barf up this delicious meal all over my chaise.

  “Uhhh…” And why the hell hadn’t I been thinking about the sex issue? On my last wedding day when I married my stupid ex (who I like to think of as my starter husband), getting into bed with him was all I thought about. It wasn’t like I was an innocent virgin and not aware of what happened on a wedding night!

  “Uhhh…” Guess almost dying and changing worlds could truly screw up a normal thought process. Not to mention drinking too much wine. Medicinal or not.

  Well, I’d better think about it now.

  Consummation.

  With a horse.

  Who bites.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “My Lady, shall I escort you to your chamber?” At least Alanna’s concern was real. Her hands felt soft and cool as they pushed sticky tendrils of hair off my visibly moist forehead.

  “Yes, please.” Standing was suddenly a nautical experience. Pitching…rolling…ohh, feeling sick…eyes shutting tightly.

  “Whoa—” Just as my butt was getting ready to slap the lovely marble floor, I felt myself being lifted into a firm burrow of heat.

  “Allow me, Lady Rhiannon.”

  Holy shit the horse had just picked me up! Peeking one eye open, I saw his face at close view. He wasn’t paying any attention to me, though, he just nodded at Alanna, who beamed some kind of thankyou smile at him and led us out the way she and I had come in. Looking at her retreating form from above reminded me of just how big ClanFintan really was—and how far above the ground I must have been and—

  “Ugh.” Maybe I should just keep my eyes closed.

  “You will feel better after you sleep.” His wide chest vibrated with his words. With my eyes shut he kinda reminded me of a large, warm vibrator, and I had to stifle a silly giggle.

  “I didn’t realize I drank so much wine.”

  He made a deep hrmmph noise in his throat, which only heightened the vibrator effect.

  “You did.”

  “You vibrate when you talk.”

  “What?”

  “It’s okay. I like vibrators.” I realized I was sounding tipsy, which was okay because I was definitely feeling tipsy. And for some reason my head was very heavy, like my hair weighed a lot. With a sigh I felt it plop down on ClanFintan/Mr. Ed’s shoulder. Yes, I was most certainly deeply entrenched in The Land of the Lush.

  “You smell good.” Yes, I realized I was speaking my thoughts out loud. And, yes, I realized I was going to have a serious wine headache in the morning. But, no,
there wasn’t a lot I could do about it just then. Giggle.

  “You have had too much to drink.”

  “No way!”

  Another snort from him, which rumbled his chest and made me giggle again. Then I noticed that the snort had stopped but the rumble hadn’t, and my eyes popped open.

  He was laughing. At me, but he was laughing. And it was a nice laugh, which suddenly turned his face from a handsome cold face to a handsome nice face.

  Of course, about this time my giggles gave me the hiccups, which really cracked him up.

  Alanna stopped in front of the door I vaguely remember as the one to Rhiannon’s room, and she seemed to be having a hard time containing her own laughter as she watched us. She saw me watching her through my semi-hysterical wine-hiccup giggles and her face flushed a bright pink right before she turned hastily to open the door and usher us through. Yep, Rhiannon obviously had no damn sense of humor.

  “Dang,” hic! “I have a seriously,” hic! “big,” hic! “bed!”

  Setting me down on the seriously big bed he studied me through his lingering smile.

  “Thank you,” hic! “for the,” hic! “ride.” Convulsing in wine-soaked giggles against my smooth pillows, I couldn’t help but crack myself up. Thanking him for the “ride”—now, that was funny!

  “You are different from the last time we met.” His smile was still in place, but his deep voice had a contemplative quality to it that, even wine-soaked, I recognized. Glancing at Alanna, I saw the cheerful pink of her cheeks suddenly drain to white.

  I felt myself struggling to sober up.

  My hiccups evaporated.

  “I’m, uh, me. As usual.”

  “Nothing is ever usual with you, Lady Rhiannon.” His smile faded then, and for an instant I was sorry to see it go. Then I remembered that he was a horse and this was supposed to be our wedding night—and, according to Alanna’s fearful face, there was lots of stuff going on around here about which I was clueless.

  I closed my eyes and let myself slur a whispered reply, “Whatever…” and took a deep snorey breath. As if on cue, Alanna piped in.

  “My Lord, perhaps you would like me to show you to your chamber.” The silence that answered her made me want to open my eyes, but I could feel his gaze, so instead I took another deep breath and let it out in a decidedly unladylike snore.

  “Your chamber adjoins this one, my Lord.” Alanna’s voice was insistent.

  “Yes, I am definitely ready to retire.” His voice was back to cold formality. His retreat from the room was loud and abrupt.

  So loud it almost drowned out Alanna’s musical lilt.

  “My Lord, she has been through much recently.” The softness in her voice mirrored Suzanna’s sweetness so completely that I felt an unexpected rush of homesickness.

  “So have we all.” And the door closed with a grim finality.

  “He is gone, my Lady.”

  As was my giggly, tipsy feeling. Nothing like a little personal intrigue in an alternative mirror world to sober you up.

  Returning, she stopped at the basin of water on the nightstand at the foot of the bed. Her hands shook as she made fluttery movements wringing out a small cloth.

  “He knows I’m not Rhiannon.”

  Her hands still shook as she wiped my clammy forehead with the cool cloth.

  “No, my Lady, he just knows you are different than he expected.”

  “Tell me about Rhiannon.” Her hands stilled.

  “She is my mistress and High Priestess, Goddess Incarnate of Epona.”

  “I know all of that. Tell me what kind of person she is.”

  “She is a powerful person.”

  Sigh.

  “Alanna, I don’t mean that. I mean her personality. You say she isn’t like me, so I want to know what she is like.”

  Silence.

  “Don’t you know enough about me already to know you don’t need to be afraid to tell me the truth?”

  “It is difficult, my Lady.”

  “Okay, I’ll help. Tell me why ClanFintan doesn’t like her.”

  “She did not want to handfast with him, so she avoided him when she could. When she could not, she treated him coldly.” Alanna’s eyes shifted away from mine.

  “Why didn’t she just break off the betrothal?”

  “Duty—the Incarnate of Epona has always mated with a High Shaman of the centaurs. If she wanted to remain High Priestess, she must handfast for at least the required year with ClanFintan. Most matings between Epona’s Beloved and the centaurs’ Shaman last for life, though.”

  She certainly looked uncomfortable talking about it.

  As she should!

  “I know I’m not from here—but I really can’t blame her for not wanting to have sex with a horse!” Alanna blinked in surprise at me. “I mean, please! It’s freaking me out, too.” Alanna tried to interrupt but I put a hand up and shushed her. I was sobering up, and I was on a roll. “And I don’t appreciate you not warning me. He’s nice-looking, and seems okay when he loosens up, but what the hell are you people thinking? How am I supposed to, well, do it? The logistics alone are mind boggling!”

  “My Lady, it is not what you think.” Her cheeks certainly were pink. “He is a High Shaman.” She said it like that should clear everything right up.

  “Yes, and he’s a friggin horse!”

  “What is ‘friggin’?”

  “Just an expression. I’m trying to quit cussing. Never mind.” Sigh. “Are you saying that he and I are not expected to consummate the handfast?”

  “No, of course not.” She looked shocked.

  “No, we’re not to consummate—or no, we are to consummate.” My headache was back.

  “Yes, you are to consummate the handfast.”

  “Please explain how. Is he not a horse from the waist down?” God, my throat hurt.

  “Well, yes, my Lady. In his present form.” Now she was downright red around the cheeks.

  “Alanna, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! What other form does he have?”

  “He is a High Shaman, which means he can shape-shift into many different forms. A human is only one of them.”

  “That’s impossible.” Wasn’t it?

  “Not for ClanFintan.” She said it all matter-of-factly, like water running downhill or wine inducing giggles and hiccups.

  “So, I don’t have to have sex with a horse?”

  “No, my Lady.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Yes, my Lady. Here, let me help you get more comfortable.” And she promptly started puttering around, removing my crown-thing, jewelry, makeup…

  “You still haven’t told me about Rhiannon.”

  Now it was her turn to sigh.

  “Did she know ClanFintan could turn into a human?”

  “Of course, my Lady.”

  “Stop puttering! I’m fine. Sit here and talk to me.” She reluctantly sat next to me, looking prim and uncomfortable.

  “It was not ClanFintan she abhorred. It was the idea of being mated to any male.”

  “Why?” Oh, great. Was I a lesbian? Not that I was homophobic or anything stupid like that, but being gay would seriously complicate an already difficult situation.

  “Lady Rhiannon has made it exceedingly clear to him that she would not be happy limited to one man.” She sounded embarrassed and sad. “Not even for one year.”

  “No wonder he doesn’t like me.” It all made sense now.

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “You didn’t approve of her behavior, did you?”

  “It is not my place to approve or disapprove of Lady Rhiannon’s behavior.” Her voice was flat and impersonal.

  “Why not, aren’t you her assistant or something like that?”

  “Assistant?”

  “Yeah, like an executive secretary or the person in charge of her schedule? You know, her employee.”

  “My Lady, I am her servant.”

  “Sounds like she di
dn’t appreciate you or give you a decent job title. I’ll bet the pay is crap, too. Couldn’t you just quit?”

  “You do not understand, my Lady. She owns me. I am her property.”

  Ohmygod.

  “You’re her slave?”

  “Yes. And now I’m your slave, my Lady.”

  “No! I can’t have a slave! I’ll set you free. Give me the papers, or whatever. This is absolutely ridiculous.”

  “You must not, my Lady.” Her face had paled once again and her voice sounded panicky. “Being Rhiannon’s slave is my life. The MacCallan purchased me for his daughter when I was just a child. It is the way of our world.”

  “It isn’t my world.”

  “It is now, my Lady.”

  A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed me. What was I doing here? How could this be real?

  “Sleep, my Lady. Everything will be more clear in the morning.”

  “Everything will still be screwed up and bizarre.” But sleep tugged at me. Wine and the stress of the day combined to make an excellent Tylenol PM. My closing eyes were leaden, my strength and desire to open them gone. Blackness was a welcome respite.

  * * *

  Besides Diana Gabaldon’s Scotland and Anne McCaffrey’s Pern, DreamLand is my favorite land to visit. My dreams have always been in color (and 3-D, of course) and wonderful. The Land of My Dreams is populated with flying heroes who fall in love with the heroine (me, of course), save the world (which has a sky that is a lovely shade of lilac violet) and then grind faceted diamonds out of raw coal with their strong (yet gentle) hands. My favorite suitor always begs the privilege of being allowed to pay off my enormous Ann Taylor credit card debt to prove his worthiness. In between scenes of being wooed by Pierce Brosnan (who can also fly), I laze about the lilac sky on clouds of golden cotton candy (the nonsticky kind) tickling the tummies of fluffy fat black-and-white cats, drinking fifty-year-old single-malt scotch and blowing the little white things off of old dandelions, which turn into snowflakes.