Ain't Myth-Behaving Page 13

  “That was…twenty-two years ago,” I said slowly, trying to fit things together. “The first time? He’s hunted you more than once? And caught you?”

  She nodded.

  “How is that possible?” Megan asked me. “You told me that you had to be the one to find me first, or else…”

  “I’d die,” I answered. “Taranis couldn’t have hunted and claimed her. If he had, he would have booted me out of the job and watched with great pleasure as I turned to dust.”

  “Noony, darling, you don’t know everything.” Fidencia complacently ate another spoon of marmalade. “I said he hunted me and caught me—I didn’t say he claimed me. He never did that. He knew it would mean your destruction if he claimed me, so he contented himself with simply finding me before you did.”

  “I find that extremely difficult to believe.”

  “That’s because you’re a man. Men always expect the worst of other men. Except my darling Dion, of course.” She blew a few kisses at the newspaper. It rustled as Dionysus made the appropriate abstracted acknowledgment.

  “Maybe you were wrong about him?” Megan asked, placing her hand over mine. I cherished both the gesture and the warmth it gave me.

  “Perhaps, but I suspect there’s some other explanation for it. It’s not like him to be in any way generous where I’m concerned.”

  “Come, my darling, let us go allow the druids to enjoy our visit. Elfwine will be delighted to see you again,” Fidencia said, tugging the newspaper out of Dionysus’s hands.

  He frowned for a moment. “Elfwine?”

  “The druid elder, darling. You remember her—she’s the one who organized the Harvest Festival where we met.”

  “Ah, yes.” He nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the room.

  I paid them little mind as I tried to puzzle out the mystery of Taranis’s behavior. “He had to have a motive.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Megan answered as Pam and Derek entered the room. “You guys were out early. Did you have breakfast?”

  “Yes,” Pam said, smiling at me. “You do such fabulous breakfasts here, Derek and I thought we’d take a walk to work some of it off. Are you ready to go, Megan?”

  “You’re leaving?” I asked, inexplicably hurt.

  “We’re booked on a canal boat to film a segment on canals. We should be back by dinnertime.”

  “We’ll go get the equipment and meet you at the car,” Derek said.

  I allowed a slightly hurt expression to play over my face, and Megan’s lips twitched as she looked at me.

  “That is just about the most pathetic look I’ve ever seen. But it’s wasted on me—if I want to have time for the fire celebration tonight, I have to get this segment done today.”

  Tonight we would speak the first set of vows. Tonight I would pleasure her beyond her comprehension. If I wanted that, I’d have to let her go now. “Very well, do your filming today. The fire procession won’t start until after nine p.m.”

  “Great. We’ll be back long before then.” She rose, hesitated, then pressed a slightly off-center kiss to my mouth. “Dane, I think…”

  “You think what?”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands and she twisted a small garnet ring that she wore on her right hand. “I’m not having cold feet, but…does it occur to you that things might not work out between us? We really don’t know much about each other, so I was thinking we might try something along the lines of what you had with Fidencia, without the animosity. What they used to call a marriage of convenience—we could get to know each other a little more before deciding whether or not we had something permanent.”

  My heart contracted into a leaden black ball of misery. “You don’t want me? You don’t wish to be my goddess? You don’t want to spend the rest of your life giving me endless pleasure and getting endless pleasure from me?”

  “I said I’d marry you, and I meant it. I’m not going to back out of that,” she said in a reassuring tone of voice that did nothing to lighten the dead thing in my chest that was my heart. “I won’t let you die.”

  How could she not see how much I had to give her? How could she imagine that I would not spend every waking moment filling her life with ecstasy? After last night, how could she not realize that we were destined for each other?

  “Oh, Dane, don’t look like that…” Her voice broke as she knelt before me, her hands on my knees. “You make me feel like the worst sort of monster when you look at me like that. I don’t mean that you’re not the most droolworthy man on the planet—because you are. You’re so handsome, it makes my teeth hurt. You’re sexy, and you have the strangest sense of humor that for some reason greatly appeals to me, and I really, really like you. I’m just not absolutely, 100 percent certain that I’m the woman you are waiting for.”

  I just looked at her, stunned by the realization that she was motivated by pity to marry me.

  She bowed her head for a moment, her eyes swimming. I felt like crying myself. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m being unreasonable. Don’t you have any qualms about me?”

  “No,” I said, the word ripped from my heart and soul. “I know without the slightest doubt that you are the woman who will complete me. You are my life, Megan. Without you, I simply would not exist.”

  A lone tear swelled over her eyelid.

  I looked deep into her beautiful eyes and said simply, “I love you.”

  “The problem is”—she bit her lip, her hands fisted on my knees—“I don’t know if I love you. I like you a lot. But love…I just don’t know. It’s too soon.”

  The pain in my heart eased. Could it be that commitment issues were all that stood between us and happiness? I covered her hands with mine, smoothing out her tight fists. “I am wise in the ways of Oprah and Deepak. They would both say that you need more time to establish the full depth of your feelings for me. I cannot give you that time outside of marriage, but if you will trust me, you may take as long as you need inside our marriage to understand our relationship.”

  She leaned her cheek onto my hand. “You really are an amazing man. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

  “I have many books that will help you understand your emotions,” I said helpfully. “I particularly liked the one called How to Make Love to a Man.”

  She laughed as she rose to her feet. “That’s a sex manual, not a relationship guide. And if yesterday was anything to go by, you certainly don’t need any help there. Well, I’d better get going or we won’t be back in time for the fire thing tonight. Um…what exactly happens at the ceremony? Am I going to be chased in any way, shape, or form?”

  “Not unless you wish to play errant sheep and randy shepherd ahead of time,” I said, happiness returning to my heart.

  She needed more time, that was all. Women didn’t understand their emotions as easily as men, and she simply needed to explore the idea of our perfection as a couple for a while before seeing reason. “It’s part of the marriage ceremony—the ancient part. The wedding tomorrow is just a civil ceremony, with a feast to follow. Tonight’s event is the heart of the Beltane celebrations. I think you’ll like it. There are Red Men, White Women, you as the May Queen, and myself as the Green Man. You get to kill me at the end—ritualistically, of course.”

  “That doesn’t sound too promising for the wild wedding night you promised me,” she said, laughing.

  I grinned. “You also get to bring me back to life. The impassioned, steamy wedding night follows after that.”

  Outside, a car horn honked impatiently.

  “Damn, I’d better scoot. I’ll want to hear more when I get back, okay? Especially the part about the wedding night.”

  “I’ll fill you in on the entire proceedings,” I said, a warm glow filling me at the heated look in her eye.

  “Thanks. See you later. Hi, Stewart. Bye, Stewart.”

  Stewart bade her hello over his shoulder and toddled into the room.

  “She loves me,” I told him wi
th much satisfaction, helping myself to some breakfast.

  “She does?”

  “Of course she does. A woman like her wouldn’t couple with a man unless she had a strong emotional bond. And she wouldn’t eat me up with her eyes and all but rip my shirt off me unless she loved me. She’s a bit resistant to understanding the true nature of our bond, but that should clear itself up soon.”

  “Ah.” He didn’t say anything else, but there was a distinctive look of doubt in his face.

  “You’ll see. Tonight, after the fire procession, Megan will realize what true happiness really is—and that it can be found only with me.”

  Fourteen

  I ’m so sorry! I know we’re horribly late, but I tried to call and couldn’t get through—the line was constantly busy. The canal boat broke down in the middle of nowhere, and we had to swim to get out of the canal. It took us hours to get back to the car. Am I too late? I see bonfires everywhere—has the ceremony started?” Megan was breathless as she burst out of the car that had pulled to a sharp stop.

  Pam and Derek called apologies as they ran to their room, clearly bent on changing into something less wet.

  “Is it too much to ask that a goddess honor the ancient ways?” Elfwine snapped, emerging from the tower to grab Megan.

  “You’re not too late, dearling, although you’ve cut it a bit fine. Elfwine and her virgins are here to dress you.”

  “Oh, I don’t need any help—”

  “It’s not an option,” Elfwine snapped, hauling Megan by the arm up the stairs.

  I followed, wanting to make sure that Megan wasn’t harmed in the druid’s haste to have her in place on time.

  “I’m so sorry. We intended to be back hours ago. Wow, Dane, that’s a great outfit. You look like something out of The Lord of the Rings what with those leather leggings and the jerkin.”

  “Movie or books?” I asked, opening the door to her bedroom.

  “Movie.”

  “Viggo? Or the skinny elves?”

  She grinned, her eyes bright with humor and a little bit of lust. “Viggo. Definitely Viggo. Maybe with just a touch of Sean Bean.”

  “I’ll accept that. I’ll leave you in Elfwine’s capable hands—”

  The door was slammed shut in my face.

  “Is she here?” Stewart asked, leaping down the stairs from my study.

  “Just got here.” I frowned at the door. “I’m a bit worried about Elfwine—”

  “She knows what she’s doing. Come along, sir, we have to get you into place.” Stewart, dressed in identical leather boots, leggings, and jerkin, with a green linen léine that was a plainer version of the gold and black embroidered one I wore, and armed with one of the several walkie-talkies used to coordinate the event, hustled me down the stairs.

  “It’s not her proficiency in readying the May Queen that worries me. It’s something else. Have you noticed anything different about her?”

  “Different how?” he asked as we wove in between the bonfires that dotted the grounds.

  “She seems more unhappy with me than is the norm. As if she’s dissatisfied.”

  “Perhaps she’s about to hand over her position to someone else,” Stewart offered before turning to one of the druids. “Daniel, are the hellhounds ready?”

  “Hmm. Possibly.” But Elfwine had always been a borderline rabid druid—dedicated body and soul to the religion.

  “Yes, and I’ll be thankful to get rid of the little bastards. We had a hell of a time getting the horns onto them.” Daniel stepped aside to reveal the mass of hellhounds, decked out in the traditional Beltane celebration of spiked collars and strap-on horns.

  Stewart pursed his lips as he looked at them. The standard horns, set into a padded leather base that was bound to elastic that went around the ears and under the hellhound’s throat, were far too big for the toy poodles. Evidently Daniel had taken a hacksaw to the antlers and cut off all the points, leaving only two pronged appendages that sprouted out of each hellhound’s head.

  “Wasn’t there a cartoon along these lines?” I asked.

  Stewart nodded. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  “They look like tiny hell bulls rather than hounds, don’t they?”

  Daniel appeared distraught. “Yes, I’m sorry about that. We didn’t think of the spiked collars, either, until it was time to get them dressed, and then there wasn’t time to do anything about them. Sally had some bells left over from a Morris dancing class, so we used those instead…although we had to wrap them around their middles rather than their necks.”

  The hellhounds, each wearing a belt of jingle bells, and crowned with what looked remarkably like steers’ horns, pranced about as menacingly as they could, but I could see that their hearts weren’t in it.

  “Er…” Stewart said, a comical expression of horror on his face as he looked at them.

  “They’ll have to do.” I dismissed the issue of the jingling hellhounds as we made our way through the crowd.

  It was pitch black out, the fires creating little dots of light that flickered eerily over the three hundred or so gathered druids. They milled around the grounds, waiting for the procession to start, some of them tending the bonfires, others passing out food and mead, still others selling a variety of merchandise. I stopped by the main booth to peruse the items available this year, frowning at the lack of choices. “No commemorative glasses this year?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “No Belgian chocolate deer with the marzipan eyes?”

  “I’m afraid we didn’t get any,” the druid handling the stand said with a nervous glance over her shoulder.

  “Hmm.” I flicked through the T-shirts, thinking Megan would like one to mark this important date. “No ladies’ tank tops with lace insets?”

  “Erm…no.”

  “What about the plates? You can’t tell me Elfwine didn’t get any plates. She’s had days!”

  The druid started to look a little frightened. “I’m afraid not, Lord Cernunnos.”

  “Bonfire-scented candles?”

  “No.”

  “Commemorative bottles of ale?”

  “I wish we did—I could use six or seven. But no, I’m sorry.”

  “Hug-a-tree banners?”

  “None,” the druid answered, close to tears now.

  I turned to Stewart. “You see? Something is definitely up. When’s the last time you can remember there being no hug-a-tree banners at a Beltane celebration?”

  He frowned. “You may have something there. But we have little time for speculation, I’m sure it just slipped Elfwine’s mind this year. She is getting older.”

  “Hrmph.” Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she needed assistance from someone younger.

  “The May Queen will be along at any moment, and we need to get the Red Imps and the escort of Blue Men in place before then,” Stewart added, shooing me toward the far end of the grounds, where an extra-large bonfire was blazing away like a pagan beacon.

  I don’t know how other Beltane celebrations are organized, but ours follow a pattern that was handed down for centuries. True, we’ve made some humane changes over time; sheep and other animals are no longer sacrificed during the ceremony (although the chickens consumed at the après-celebration barbecue would probably not feel any great strides had been made in that area). As I stood at the summit of the ruins and looked over the bonfires laid out in a giant cross shape over the castle grounds, I was much anticipating the procession. Especially the part where Megan formally became my goddess.

  Stewart moved to my side and spoke into a walkie-talkie. “We are go for May Queen launch. Repeat, we are go for May Queen launch.”

  “Good copy,” came the reply, and the door to the tower opened. The sound of a horn throbbed into the night, alerting all that the festivities were beginning. Drummers lining the path from the tower to the summit began a slow rhythm.

  It was too far away to see individual faces, but I
knew what was happening. First, the May Queen’s White Women would spill out down the steps. The queen, garbed in traditional white and red, would follow, stopping at the crossroads to greet the quarters and to acknowledge the elemental points: fire, earth, air, and water, each represented by a druid.

  Then my guard of Blue Men would join the procession and begin to escort her to me.

  “How many Red Imps do we have this year?” I asked, pulling my sword and testing it for balance, just for something to do. It being one of my favorite weapons, I’d honed its blade myself just that morning.

  “As to that…just three, I’m afraid.”

  I stared at him in surprise. “Three? That’s all?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, we had a shortage of men this year for all the parts. We had to either short the imps or lose two of the Blue Men, and you know their number is set as six.”

  I grunted in dismay. “My one chance to dazzle Megan with my prowess in battle, to astound her with my sword-fighting ability, and I don’t have a dozen imps to fight? Three druids? It’ll be like fighting kittens.” I snorted in, and kicked one of the bales of hay that lined the path.

  “Actually, it’s just two druids—Lord Taranis offered to take the role of a Red Imp when he learned of the shortage.”

  “What?” My head whipped around to peer into the bonfire-lit darkness. I could make out Megan’s form as she walked behind the line of four White Women, within the guard of Blue Men. She was approaching the crossroads, where tradition specified that Red Imps, wakened by the May Queen from their winter’s sleep, would spring forth and attack her party in an attempt to bring back winter.

  As the Green Man, it was my job to defend the queen. Some Beltane groups had purely ceremonial fights, but I had always insisted on some realism in our festival. Just as the goddess was truly hunted yesterday, so now would I actually fight the Red Imps to save her. And if Taranis was one of the Red Imps…

  “He’s going to try to take Megan!” I shouted, fury filling me and spilling out in the form of the manifestation. I raced down the hill toward the crossroad, the pack of snarling, jingling, horned hell poodles streaming behind me.