Ain't Myth-Behaving Page 8

  “They were the only musical group I could get, sir. The locals swore they’d rather kiss a banshee than play for you again.”

  “Ungrateful bastards,” I muttered, and resumed pacing.

  “As we’re on the subject—I’m going to have to reimburse the Scottish Lads the price of one fiddle. It seems the hellhounds were unsupervised for a moment, and they attempted to slaughter the musicians. They escaped only by sacrificing a fiddle to the leader of the pack.”

  I waved away such mundane concerns. “Pay them whatever they want. Back to Taranis—for twopence I’d like to take care of him once and for all.”

  “You can’t. The sovereign wouldn’t allow you to usurp your overlord without repercussions.”

  “I know I can’t, but I’d like to,” I snarled. “It’s his fault that I must forsake my attempts at wooing Megan and go straight into the next stage. It is time for action, Stewart, bold action.”

  “Oh, lord.” Stewart’s head sank into his hands.

  “I must end this infatuation she has with the smarmy Taranis, and bring her to see that her life will be much better spent with me.”

  “Sovereign help us.”

  The phone rang again. I used the few moments of relative peace to foment the bold actions that I was now forced to take.

  Stewart hung up the phone. “That was the Talbot, this year’s huntsman. He asked if you wished to use your own pack, or if he should bring the hunt’s. I told him you preferred not having the druids torn to shreds, and that we’d be using ours.”

  “Excellent, excellent, you’ve things well in hand. I must go make plans,” I said, striding through the door.

  “But my lord!” Stewart looked down at the pile of papers, order forms, caterer catalogs, rental equipment specifications, and a dozen other items related to the Beltane celebration, his eyes taking on a panicky tinge. “Sir! Mr. Hearne! The celebration!”

  I paused and looked back. “What of it? Don’t try to tell me you can’t cope with the celebration. You’ve done it every year for six hundred years, most of that time without a telephone, computer, or fax machine.”

  “Yes, but there are bound to be problems for which I will need to consult you. At least take your mobile phone.”

  I accepted the phone he shoved into my hands. “I have full confidence that you can deal with any and all questions. I am about to undertake very delicate work, so do not disturb me for anything less than global nuclear war.”

  I found the object of my desire getting out of a small rental car, the two crew members with her as usual. For once, Taranis was not accompanying her.

  “…think that went exceptionally well,” Megan was saying as I approached. She looked down at her legs, which were muddy and sodden from the knees down. “Well, except for the part where I slipped into that creek. But other than that, I think it’ll make an excellent piece. I’ll just go change into something dry, and then perhaps we can take a quick trip out to that nature reserve north of here? I think that would be an interesting visit—hey!”

  “Good morning. Are you enjoying your stay here?” I asked Pam and Derek, who were unloading their film and sound equipment.

  Pam nodded and shot a quick look to Megan, whose arm I held in a firm, no-nonsense grip. “Yes, thank you, our room is lovely.”

  “Dane! Let go of me!”

  “Excellent,” I told Pam, turning to her partner. “You managed to find the local pub, I take it?”

  “Dane, dammit, let go of my arm!”

  Derek grinned outright. “Yes, thank you, your directions were spot-on. And you were right about the local beer—it’s good stuff. I’m going to try to have some sent home.”

  “ARGH!”

  I nodded. “It has quite a reputation. Well then, if you’re all comfortable, I’ll just escort Megan to her room. She seems to be a bit agitated this morning.”

  “Agitated? I’ll give you agitated, you big lummox! Unhand me!”

  She continued on in that manner until we got to her room, but when we were at last there and the door was closed, she spun out of my grip and turned to face me with eyes blazing and hands fisted.

  “How dare you treat me like that! How dare you behave like such an…an animal in front of my friends!”

  “Animal?” I leaned against the door, my arms crossed.

  “Yes! Only an animal would grab a woman and haul her up to her bedroom.” Megan moved off to the other side of the bed, a self-righteous note to her voice. “Taranis told me there was a reason you took the position of Cernunnos. He said that you had an affinity with animals.”

  I was startled by the change in subject. “I do.”

  “He also said that he felt you’ve maintained the position so long because you cope much better with animals than you do with people.”

  I narrowed my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do at that moment was talk about Taranis. “And do you believe him?”

  “Well…” Her hands made a plaintive little gesture. “I suppose I don’t about everything. Your dogs like you, even if they are a bit…peculiar.”

  “They’re hellhounds. They only look like miniature poodles. They’re actually quite lethal, although the little red bows on their heads lessen that appearance.”

  She absorbed that for a moment, then nodded. “A week ago I would have thought you were crazy, insisting poodles are hellhounds, but now I’m perfectly willing to believe it. Are you jealous of Taranis, by any chance?”

  “Yes.” I thought for a moment. “No. Perhaps. Can we talk about something else, such as why you’ve been avoiding me the last few days?”

  “No. Now, go away. I wish to change my pants, since these are muddy and wet. And my shirt, since you twisted the material on the arm all around when you manhandled me.”

  “Did it occur to you that I wouldn’t have had to take such extreme measures to get a moment alone with you if you hadn’t been avoiding me?”

  Her brilliant blue eyes flashed to mine for a moment before dropping to look at her hands. “We weren’t talking about me, we were talking about your arrogant, out-of-control behavior.”

  It took only four steps to stride over to her. She gave a little squeak and backed up against the wall. I leaned in, my hands on either side of her head, pinning her against the stone with my body. “Do you have any idea of the self-control I am exhibiting right at this very moment?”

  “Um…Dane, you’re squishing me. Perhaps ‘out of control’ was too harsh—”

  “It was indeed. Because if I were truly out of control, right now you would be on that bed, naked, squirming beneath me as I thrust hard into your body.”

  Her eyes opened wide, the pupils dilating slightly. “You would?” she asked breathily.

  I ignored the delightful sensation of her breasts heaving against my chest. “Every time I see you, I want to kiss you, touch you, stroke your flesh, taste you upon my tongue. I want to know you the way a man knows a woman. I want to learn all your ticklish spots, know where your erogenous zones are, know what will drive you wild with arousal. I want you, Megan, in every conceivable sense of the word.”

  “Oh,” she said on another breath, her mouth slightly opened.

  It took every ounce of strength I possessed to not give in to the invitation she offered. Instead I painfully pushed myself back. “If I didn’t have the self-control of a saint, I would give in to those urges. But because I pride myself on my modernity, because I watch Oprah and read Deepak, and understand that women are from Venus and men from Mars, and that females such as you like to be cherished for more than their bodies, I have attempted to show you that I am just as fascinated with the other parts of you—your interests, your desires, the things that make you laugh and cry—as I am with the more physical elements of your being.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “I…you have? You are?”

  “But you have spurned my every attempt. Rather than spending the time together as I had planned, you have chosen to waste it on Taranis
. I do not know what he has told you, but I can assure you that he will not honor you above all women, as I will do. He will not be faithful to you, either in heart or body, as I will. He will not put your needs and wants and desires above his own. He has somewhere in the region of fifteen hundred children—you’d have to check with Stewart for the exact number—and he continues to breed women like they were baby factories. I have no children, nor will I foist upon you more than you desire.”

  “I can’t have children,” she burst out. A blush washed over the delicate curve of her cheeks as her hands fluttered toward her abdomen. “I…I had cancer. I lost my ovaries and a few other bits.”

  I shrugged. “Then we will seek alternate means to have children, if that is your desire. There are always unwanted children who need homes. Unlike the promiscuous Taranis, I do not feel the need to populate the world with my progeny.”

  She cleared her throat, the blush fading slightly. “Well…good. I feel the same way.”

  “We are of one mind, then. Do not misunderstand me, Megan. I do not have the time a normal man would be able to give you. Beltane is in three days, and in three days I must take a wife. I have chosen you to be that wife, a goddess at my side for the length of our lives. If you do not accept that role, I will quite simply cease to be.”

  She shook her head. “Now you’re just being melodramatic to get me into bed—”

  “I assure you I am being quite literal. I am Cernunnos. If I do not marry at Beltane and take a goddess, I cease being Cernunnos. If I cease being Cernunnos, I am no longer immortal and will revert back to mortality. Do you know how long a sixteen-hundred-year-old man would last in today’s world?”

  Her eyes were wide with astonishment.

  I nodded. “Exactly. About two seconds before time caught up to me, and then pfft! I would be no more.”

  “Oh my God.” She sank down onto the bed, mindless of her muddy jeans. “You…you didn’t tell me this before!”

  “I didn’t think I needed to. I assumed from your reaction to my kisses that you were not averse to the idea of spending a lifetime with me.”

  The sympathy in her voice and face boded well. I allowed an expression of heartfelt despair to play about my face, my chin held firm in manful stoicism that was sure to wring her heart.

  “Oh, Dane, it’s not that I don’t like you—I do, despite your…er…unusual nature. And I think it’s clear that I like to kiss you, and I suppose if we’re going to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind at all getting to know you better. But I’m not really looking for a permanent relationship with a man right now. There’re just too many other things I want to do first. When I beat the cancer, I made a promise to myself that there would be no more excuses—life was too precious and too short to not do all the things I’d wanted to do. Becoming a travel writer is number four on the list.”

  “What were numbers one through three?”

  “One was to reconcile myself with a couple of family members I’d been on the outs with for the last fifteen or so years. Two was to pay off all my debts. Three was to learn how to belly dance—I’m still working on that, but I started the lessons.”

  “Dance for me,” I ordered, moving to the window where the light was better. I wanted badly to pounce on her but reined in my desire. She was open with me now, and although I knew intimacy would increase that openness, the moment wasn’t yet ripe for that. I must think of her comfort and happiness before my own gratification. I owed her that much.

  “What?”

  “Dance for me. Show me what you’ve learned in your belly dancing class.”

  She blinked in confusion a couple of times, opened her mouth to protest, then suddenly hopped off the bed and stood in front of me, a slight smile on her lips. “You are the strangest man. I’ll show you, but you’re bound to be disappointed. I can only do a couple of the basic moves.”

  “Dearling, I doubt if there’s anything you can do that would disappoint me, with the exception of refusing me outright. Dance!”

  “We really need to work on this arrogant attitude you have…This is a belly roll. I don’t do it very well because my muscles haven’t yet learned how to move in sequence, but here it is.”

  I frowned at her belly, unable to see much. “Take off your clothes. I can’t see your belly roll at all.”

  “You’re absolutely incorrigible.” She laughed, shaking her head. Her laughter washed over me like a wave of passion, igniting my own until it heated my blood. “I am not going to take off my clothes in front of you, although I will let you put your hands on my stomach to feel the movement.”

  No fool I, I wasn’t about to turn down the offer to place my hands on her delectable person. I spread my fingers out across her belly, nodding when I felt the muscles contract and release in a rolling motion. My fingers ached to strip the cotton jersey off her, and feel her warm flesh as it rolled and undulated. I wanted to caress every inch of her, to taste her, to inhale her scent until it was imprinted on my mind—

  “Do you feel it?”

  I looked her dead in the eye, willing her to see my emotions. “Yes. It would be better if you were naked, though.”

  She laughed again. “Most things are, but we’re not going there.”

  “Yet.”

  “Back up or I won’t show you the hip circle.”

  It took a will of steel, but I resumed my spot and watched with approval as her hips circled in a seductive motion. I wondered if perhaps I should reconsider my thoughts on delaying intimacy.

  “And this is a body camel. It’s pretty much a belly roll, but you also use your upper torso and legs. Can you tell the difference?” she asked as she did a slow twirl, her body moving in time to some music only she heard.

  The sight of her dancing before me was too much to bear. I looked at the bed behind her. I looked at the woman dancing before me.

  She caught the expression in my eyes and stopped moving, holding up one hand. “Absolutely not. I don’t jump into bed with men I’ve only known a few days.”

  “You will know me for the rest of eternity. Does that not compensate for the lack of time now?” I asked, taking a step forward.

  She shook her head. “No sex.”

  “Let me kiss you, then. Just a kiss, a chaste, innocent kiss. A sign of your trust in my honor, a token of friendship, a beacon in Anglo-Irish relations.”

  “Smooth,” she drawled, but I could tell by the misty look in her eyes that I had swayed her. “Just one kiss, all right? Nothing more.”

  “One kiss,” I agreed, wondering what the world record for the longest kiss was, and whether we would get some sort of an award for breaking it. “I shall kiss you once, just once, and not do any of the other things I so desire to do to you.”

  “What…er…what things?” she asked in a shaky voice as I spoke against her lips.

  “I desire to do many things to you, dearling—but I will not. I will not bare your delicious flesh, running my hands along the smooth lengths of your legs, stroking a long line from ankle to thigh.”

  “No, that would be…wrong.” Her head tilted up slightly to give me better access.

  My hands moved up the curve of her waist. “I will not lick a trail across your sublime belly, down to your womanly secrets, hidden away from sight but straining for my touch, aching and yearning for the swirl of my tongue against their steamy depths.”

  She leaned into me as I pressed my leg between hers, pulling her tighter until she all but rode my thigh. A flush of desire rose up from her breasts, causing her breath to turn as rough and short as my own. “That’s…it’s probably better if you didn’t do all that.”

  “I shall not take the hard tip of each breast into my mouth, and suckle hard, tasting and teasing until you cry out with pleasure,” I said, my hands moving to caress her cotton-covered breasts.

  She moaned deep in her throat and arched her back.

  “I will not mold your buttocks,” I murmured into her mouth, my fingers paying homage to the d
elight that was her arse before moving upward to tug her shirt from her jeans. “I will not stroke the sensual curve of your back.”

  She was kissing me now, pressing hot, wet kisses along the line of my jaw, her hands sliding under my shirt, skimming along my ribs in a manner that raised goose bumps of pleasure. “No, no you won’t do that. Don’t stroke it some more.”

  “I will not nibble on that spot behind your ear that makes your legs tremble,” I said, my arms tightening around her as her legs gave way. I bit her earlobe gently, more aroused by her gasp of pleasured surprise than I had been in centuries.

  Megan’s breasts burned a brand into my chest, her hips moving in a restless rhythm against my groin. I wanted her with every atom in my being, but more, I wanted her to desire me with the same fever. I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering the strength I needed to do what was right. “I will only kiss you—just one kiss, one perfect kiss that will express to you the true depths of my feel—bloody hell!”

  “Maybe I was wrong,” she whispered as she nipped a spot on my neck. “Maybe I was meant to be here, meant to save you from destruction…bloody hell? What bloody hell?”

  Regretfully, I disentangled myself from the heaven of her body. The sight through the window of a car arriving below—or more importantly, one of the people who got out of the car—was enough to send me bolting from her embrace.

  “Dane? What’s wrong?” Megan must have heard the sound of the car doors closing. She peered out the window. “Someone’s here? Is it Taranis?”

  “No one important,” I assured her as I flung open the door. “It’s just my wife. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  Nine

  W ife?”

  The word bounced off the stone walls of the staircase, chasing me with sharp little barbs that dug into my flesh. The echoing abilities of the tower had never been used with such force. “You have a wife?”