Pagan Fire, page 23
“Not that part. The part about the legends. In spite of whatever that goddess told you, they are not false. What Eugis didn’t understand is that you must give of yourself freely and with love.” She waved her hand. “Your magic can’t be taken or forced away in any manner. It can only be shared when you are ready for the sharing.”
“Then all of this was for naught,” Dylan said quietly. “Eugis was a fool.”
“Agreed.” Maere touched the back of his hand. “But let us not be fools as well, Dylan. We can’t let him – or his memory – continue to rule us.”
Dylan covered Maere’s hand with his and the weight of the past ten years fell off him as easily as a cloak. He stood, his eyes fixed on Maere’s. “You know I love you?”
She smiled and nodded. “And I, you.”
“What say you, then? Will you be my wife?”
“Aye, my love. I’ll be yours.” Maere stood on tiptoe and planted a gentle kiss on Dylan’s lips. He leaned forward to take more but Maere pulled away with a soft giggle. She turned to Aethelred. “Will you do the hand-fasting for us?”
The old woman’s eyes twinkled. “I would be honored.” She went to a small chest tucked in a corner of the room and pulled out a handful of multi-colored yarns.
“You’re certain this is what you want?” Dylan asked.
Maere poked him in the rib with her finger, making him jump. “Don’t be arguing with me, Dylan mac Connall. I have powers, you know.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “You see, Aethelred, already it starts.” He laughed. Here was a glimpse of the old Maere, the girl who chased fays and played hide-and-seek with the sun. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until now.
“Clasp your left hands together,” Aethelred said as she approached the pair. As they took each other’s hands, the old woman wrapped the yarns around them, from wrists to fingertip, chanting of the colors, “Blue for understanding, yellow for harmony, brown for healing, white for protection.” She glanced up and winked. “Red for passion, green for fertility.” When she finished with the binding, she turned to Dylan. “Dylan mac Connall, state your purpose here this night.”
His eyes met Maere’s. “I take you to be my wife. Beginning this day and beyond, for all time.”
“Maere cu Llwyr, state your purpose here this night.”
She smiled at Dylan. “I take you to be my husband. Beginning this day and beyond, for all time.”
Aethelred placed her hand over the couple’s. “As witness to this hand-fasting, I grant that you are truly wed.” She unwound the yarns and put them back in the chest. Turning around, she found Dylan and Maere standing there, smiling at each other. “Are you needing my permission to kiss the girl now, son? You seemed to be doing a fair job earlier today.” She laughed as she headed toward the door of the cottage.
Aethelred took her cloak down from a peg and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ve been needing to gather herbs by the light of the moon. I’ll be gone this night, back on the morrow.” She winked again. “So don’t be waiting up for me. If you get my meaning.”
“By the gods, old woman,” Dylan said, “we get your meaning.” He released Maere’s hands and went to his teacher. “But it’ll be cold tonight. Are you certain about this?”
She patted his arm. “I still have my cave. Filled it myself just the other day with fresh supplies and wood for a fire. I had a feeling you might show up.”
Dylan laughed and opened the door. “Out with you then! And be sure to knock when you return.” He shook his head and closed the door. He went to Maere, took her hand, and led her across the room. “Come. I will show you where I grew up.” He pushed aside a curtain and revealed his small chamber, the cot against the wall, his desk still stacked with his sketches and writing. With a piece of burning tinder, he lit the few candles in the room.
Maere went to the desk and picked up one of the drawings. She was reminded of the scroll Dylan had brought to the anchorage, the one with her face on it. And here was another. And another. All drawings of her. She turned to him. “What does this mean?”
“It means I did nothing but dream of you from the day you were taken from me.” Dylan pulled her into his arms. “I have something for you.” He reached into the pouch at his waist, pulled out a piece of fabric, and handed it to her. “Do you remember this?”
As Maere unfolded the stained and torn fabric, a flash of knotted gold caught the candle flame and glinted. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Dylan! I thought I’d lost this forever.” She unpinned the garnet brooch and held it to her heart. Visions of mama and papa and the night they gave her this gift came to her. The night she and Dylan were betrothed. “How?” she asked.
“When I tried to pull you away from Eugis on that night, your mantle tore. All these years, I’ve kept it safe for you.” Dylan took her into his arms again, holding her tight against him. He kissed her.
Maere gently laid the brooch on the desk and wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his ardor. Their mouths blended, he scooped her up and carried her to his bed, gently placing her on top of the coverlet. He stood above her and pulled his shirt over his head. Maere reached up to touch him. He gently guided her hand away. “Touch me now and we’ll be finished before we start,” he whispered, his voice husky.
He untied his leggings and braes, letting them drop at his feet. All that remained was his undergarment and that beautiful gold torque his Da had given him their betrothal night. Maere reached up again and pulled him down. He lowered himself gently atop her and covered her mouth with his.
Such fire Maere had never known! Not even when she burned with her power could it match this joining of their mouths. Searching, tongues touching, filling her with the greatest of desire.
Dylan rose slightly on one arm. She leaned up to catch his mouth but he moved his head, eluding her. “Are you sure you’re ready? I would not rush you, love.”
Maere answered by unfastening her dress and easing out of it. “Will you be helping me with the shift or do I have to do it myself?”
A low growl came from the back of Dylan’s throat as he claimed her mouth once more. His hands swept up and over her sides, then back down again. He found the edges of her shift and helped pull it over her head.
Maere undid the last of his garments and he kicked them off and out of the way. She touched his neckpiece, ran her fingers over his chest, teasing his nipples with small circles, tugging lightly at the hair around them. When Dylan moaned, she grew bolder and allowed her hands to travel further down his body, claiming him with a tight squeeze.
“Sweet Danu,” he whispered between kisses. Leaving her mouth, he traveled down her throat, sucking and nibbling until Maere writhed beneath him. Going lower still, he cupped her full breasts with his hands, kissing first one, then the other, teasing the nipples with his tongue before fully enveloping one with his mouth.
“What are you doing to me?” Maere let out a ragged sigh as her senses took over, lost in this moment of pleasure. Dylan moved even further down along her body and gently parted her legs, dropping kisses as light as a butterfly along her inner thighs. He cupped her buttocks with his hands, positioning himself between her legs, parting them as he drew her body to him. With a flick of his tongue, Maere’s back arched and she pushed hard against his warm mouth.
“What magic is this?” She was breathless as his thumbs parted her even deeper. They dipped within, then without, the tension in her body growing with each movement. Maere grew hotter and hotter until she thought she’d burst if he touched her again. “Dylan.” He continued on, relentless in his task, his mouth buried against her.
“Dylan,” she whispered his name a thousand times over. “Dylan.”
He raised his head, his voice husky when he spoke. “I would kiss away the pain and leave you only memories of this passion.”
She pulled him up to her, claiming his mouth once more. She tasted herself on his lips. Instinctively, Maere began to grind her hips against his. “Take me.” Dear Mother, the fire would consume her. “Now.”
Dylan groaned again. With a single thrust, he was inside her, swaying his hips side to side, savoring the tightness of this woman, his love, his wife.
Maere pushed against him and he thrust again. She met his passion with her own. And as the tension continued to build in her, so did her power, until the two were as entwined as their bodies, hearts and souls touching. “Ah, love,” she cried out as the light enveloped them and she reached her peak. Higher and higher she went, taking Dylan with her. She squeezed him tight between her legs. He tensed and thrust deep, exploding within her, the light of her magic consuming them both.
Aethelred stood at the opening of her cave. In the distance, she saw the glow of light surrounding her cabin. It grew brighter and brighter until it filled the night sky and rivaled the moon herself. She watched for a moment longer and, as the light began to fade, she smiled. “Tis done.”
Author’s Biography
Photo: Lesley Weidenbener
Teri Barnett is a writer, artist, and designer currently living in Indiana. Her favorite stories combine history, paranormal elements, and of course, romance. Please visit Teri on the web at www.teribarnett.com.
Teri Barnett, Pagan Fire
