Midsummer Night's Fling: Belinda Boring, Kamery Solomon, Lacey Weatherford

by Weatherford, Lacey

  The desperation in my voice was clear. Whatever was between us, I wasn’t ready for it to be over, and I silenced the frustration rising. I reached out to pull him closer, but he was already retreating. I stumbled forward, imploringly.

  “I must. I shouldn’t have revealed myself to begin with.” I caught a glimpse of regret in his eyes—an unsatisfied longing. “There are rules.” Hadrian reached the tree line, his back already submerged in shadow.

  The sound of my name being called grew louder and louder until I knew the intruder would soon discover my hiding place. It was happening so fast, and I struggled to find the right words. He appeared reluctant to leave as well, and for a brief instant, I believed he would rejoin me.

  “Say you’ll return. Promise me.” A warning flashed inside me. I knew asking anything of the Fae was fraught with danger, but my heart stifled it. I ignored what might be the effects of sorcery and enchantment. I turned away from reason. “Please tell me I’ll see you again.”

  Hadrian’s eyes darted over my shoulder, and I knew time was running out. “On the morrow, fair Aithne, I shall find you.” And with that, he was gone.

  I stared into the darkened forest trying to find any trace of him. I studied each trunk, every fallen and upended branch—anything that would give me a clue where he went. There was no shimmering afterglow from a portal. No twinkling of Otherworld magic. He had simply been there one instant and vanished the next.

  The afternoon suddenly became colder, as the warmth and liveliness I’d previously experienced became a fading memory. A cool breeze nipped at my damp skin and hair, and I finally remembered all I was wearing was a light shift. Knowing I would soon be discovered, I rushed to my discarded gown and began dressing. My fingers worked frantically with the fastenings and all the while, a smile never left my face.

  He would return. I had hope.

  Once decent, I turned in time to see the petite frame of my dear friend, Dierdre, break through the brush. Even though she’d disturbed my time with Hadrian, the sight of my freckled faced friend filled me with gratitude. We were as close as sisters—practically inseparable and I rushed toward her.

  “There you are. I’ve searched everywhere for you. Have you lost track of time?” Dierdre’s deep green eyes flashed with concern.

  My brow wrinkled in confusion. “We were to meet?” My encounter with Hadrian had wiped all recollection of previous arrangements, and the memory of our almost kiss made it equally difficult to concentrate.

  “Yes, silly!” She tweaked my nose. It was an old habit from our childhood, and one she refused to stop. “We were to go into the village and look for ribbons. The Midsummer Night’s festival draws close, and we want to get the very best from Old Bertha’s selection before that hateful Cora does. We’ve talked of little else!” Dierdre paused. She tilted her head to the side and studied me, her mess of red curls bouncing from the movement. “What has happened, Aithne? It’s not like you to look so . . . addled.”

  Excitement bubbled within me. I was anxious to speak of my meeting Hadrian and the feelings it had stirred within me. We had spent many afternoons lying in the grass, staring at the blue sky, and fantasizing about the elusive Fae. If anyone would understand the way my young girlish heart was captured, it would be Deirdre. But something bid me to hold my tongue.

  “I think I’ve spent too much time in the sun. Come, let’s go and maybe we can stop by the tavern and convince Fiona to spare us some honey mead.”

  I took her arm and fought the urge to take one last, lingering stare. Deirdre’s infectious chatter cleared my mind, and I soon found myself laughing and joining in with the conversation. As we left the privacy of the river bank, I didn’t pause to see whether it was a figment of my imagination or the fading sun that teased me with the shadow of a man.

  Until tomorrow, Hadrian, I thought. On the morrow I shall claim my kiss.

  Chapter Three

  Aithne

  My excursion into the village with Dierdre was a success, and I felt like I didn’t have a care in the world. With a light spring in my step, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as I softly sang a favorite tune. Swaying to and fro with the melody, I added a flourish and twirl when I passed by my father’s office.

  The door was closed, but I knew he had a keen ear, and I paused waiting for his voice. Fingering the velvety petals from the wild flowers displayed on the hall table, a fleeting thought of Hadrian entered my mind.

  I wonder what kind of plant life blooms in the world of Fae.

  “Daughter, is that you?” The question was somewhat of a routine between us, and I offered him my dutiful response.

  “Yes, Papa. May I enter?”

  “Of course, my dear, of course.”

  I pushed open the door and smiled at the sight before me. My father sat behind a simple wooden desk with piles of papers and ledgers scattered before him. As I came to sit in the soft cushioned chair in front of him, he replaced the feathered writing tool in the ink well.

  “You look tired. Have you eaten today?” I studied the room closely. I knew there were days he’d get so caught up in whatever business beckoned him he would forget to take his meals. Sure enough, placed to the side of him was a tray of barely touched cheese and bread. “Papa! Did we not talk about this? You cannot work all day without proper nourishment.”

  He was wise enough to look bashful as his ink stained fingers removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. As his only daughter, it fell to me to care for him after my mother passed, and his forgetfulness tested my patience. I adored my father, but scarcely a day went by when I didn’t want to shake him. His repentant expression proved he knew it as well, and acknowledging my worry, he winked. My heart softened, and I began to laugh. “What am I going to do with you? Truly?”

  “I don’t know, my dear. I suppose continue to love me and know you will always be needed.” His eyes twinkled as he smiled and rested back in his chair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Aithne.”

  I leaned forward to brush my hand over his, careful not to disturb the mess on the surface of the desk. I returned to my chair and glanced about, trying to make sense of things.

  “So what captured your attention so thoroughly? Are affairs going well?” I didn’t know much about the merchant business only that my father had retired to govern over the accounting aspects of things while my older brother, Owen, managed the physical. Owen was currently abroad bartering for goods, and I missed him terribly. His letters, although few and far between, were always filled with wondrous tales of exotic places and excitement.

  “Things are as they should be. I honestly just lost track of time.” My father paused, smiling as he peered over his glasses. “But it seems I’m not the only one with a preoccupied mind. There’s something different about you today. I can see it in your eyes. What adventure have you been on?”

  I spoke a little about my successful quest for ribbons and the local gossip I’d overheard. It caused him to laugh, especially as I relayed the never ending antics of young George. In his pursuit to win the hand of Caitlin, one of the tavern workers, he’d accepted the challenge to a drinking competition. An hour and numerous empty tankards later, he’d stood to declare his love and affections only to pass out cold. The tale ended with his snores threatening to loosen the foundations of the building.

  “Why does he not just tell her plain and simple?” I asked once my father had stopped chuckling. “I’ve seen how she looks at him. His shyness is for naught.”

  “People are peculiar. Sometimes it is difficult to speak from the heart—especially when we fear being turned away. Sooner or later George will run out of ideas, and they will talk. Mark my words.”

  I recalled my encounter with Hadrian. Even though he had rendered me speechless, my hope was that I’d always be able to speak what was in my heart. I was determined to make the most of our visit tomorrow. My cheeks flushed with heat as a mental image arose of us kissing—his hands softly touching
me.

  The response wasn’t missed by my father either.

  “That’s an interesting color you have there. Did something else happen while you were out?” He peered at me closely, and I blushed again under his scrutiny. “A boy! A boy has caught your fancy!”

  I covered my face, trying to decide how best to answer. I could never tell him about Hadrian, especially the part about him being Fae. It was the one sore point between us—my endless fascination with them and his wish for me to grow up and cast such fairytales aside. I hated telling my father untruths, so I chose to remain silent.

  He took my refusal to answer as an invitation to come to his own conclusions. “William. I bet he’s the one that has you tongue-tied and quiet. He’s a fine boy. I approve!” I tried not to jump as his hand slapped down on the desk. I knew who he was referring to, and a memory of the handsome son of the local blacksmith entered my mind.

  I’d grown up around William, and he’d quickly become a friend who also loved running in the fields and catching frogs in the muddied ponds. He tagged along with my brother and me when we fished, and helped chase fireflies on warm summer evenings. He’d been one of my truest friends, but as I entered womanhood, things slowly changed. Our closeness went from familiarity to awkwardness and then he began his apprenticeship under his father. We still talked and laughed whenever we saw each other, but it wasn’t the same. The mention of his name now caused a pang of sorrow to move through me. I missed him.

  I needed a change of subject, so I arose and retrieved my ribbons. Knowingly, my father didn’t broach the topic of William again, although he offered a smile which caused my face to flush again. He was incorrigible.

  “Look what Dierdre and I bought today from Old Bertha.” I held the different colored strands up to my hair to display them. “I’m going to weave them through my braids for the festival. Won’t they look pretty?”

  “Not nearly as beautiful as you.” His response came out somewhat choked. “Have you heard anything about whether you are chosen to play Mother Earth in the ceremony?”

  “Not yet. The announcement will be made in two days’ time. Deirdre thinks for certain it will be me. What do you think?”

  It was a grand honor to be chosen by the mayor, and my heart raced at the thought of it being me. For as long as I can remember, an old druid ritual—the wedding of Mother Earth and the Sun King—was performed at each Midsummer Night’s festival. Tokens were exchanged as a symbol of the turning of the seasons and the meeting of Heaven and Earth. For months, I lay in bed and pondered this night, praying my name would be selected.

  “This is your year, Aithne, I just know it. Your mama was the same age when she participated in the rite. It is only fitting you be the same.” His words comforted me, and I was hopeful.

  I came around the desk to place a soft kiss on his whiskered cheek. “And I bet you made a handsome Sun King too, Father.” My parents had been childhood sweethearts, and the night they both performed the ceremony was the night he asked for her hand. No two people loved so deeply and completely as them. It was a story I loved to hear him retell.

  “Who knows maybe you’ll meet your future husband. Maybe William?”

  I slapped his shoulder. Even though the idea of being wedded to William was appealing, it didn’t stop a flash of Hadrian’s features from replacing the thought. My imagination and belief in all things whimsy governed common sense once again.

  “Who knows, Papa?” I headed toward the door, and paused long enough to watch him pick up his papers. “Dinner will be within the hour. Try not to marry me off before then.” I blew him a kiss, and left the room as he softly chuckled.

  While I moved through the house and prepared the evening meal, my mind flittered back and forth, and I began to hum.

  Chapter Four

  Aithne

  The day had been a complete drudgery. I silently counted down to the moment I could escape my chores and the watchful eye of my father to meet Hadrian. My once sunny and cheerful disposition dripped of impatience. There were a few times after the noon meal where I was tetchy in my response to others, causing them to raise their eyebrows at me. Meanwhile, that knowing smile returned to my father’s face.

  “Make sure you enjoy your afternoon, Aithne. Say hello to whomever you might meet.”

  I shook my head at the teasing tone in his voice and quickly grabbed the light shawl hanging by a hook near the front door. All I could think of was Hadrian, and although we hadn’t discussed where we should meet, I soon found myself back at my private retreat—my empty retreat.

  I nervously paced, the slightest sound caused me to whirl around and hope it was him. I wrung my hands and chewed on my bottom lip as I recalled the last thing he spoke yesterday. I hadn’t imagined him asking me to return. The surety of the memory caused me to cease in my ambling back and forth. He would come, and with that belief, I allowed myself to relax.

  I removed my covering and dropped it on the grass then slowly began to kick off my shoes. The sun reflected on the river’s surface, the sparkling water a temptation. Once barefoot, I skipped over to the edge and with a loud sigh of contentment submerged my feet. I wiggled my toes in delighted at the cool sensation and bent forward to wet my face. It felt like heaven.

  Not wanting to get the hem of my gown soaked, I returned to where I’d placed my shawl and picked the wild flowers that grew nearby. My legs folded beside me, I slowly began weaving the stems together to create a simple garland for my hair. Between watching my nimble fingers work and the soft melody I sang, I wasn’t aware of his arrival until his greeting interrupted my work.

  “We meet again, fair Aithne.”

  The shock of his voice caused me to drop my floral circlet, and I gasped as I looked up at him. He was standing so close, and the brightness of the sun behind him gave the appearance that he was surrounded by a mystical glow. It was almost too much to comprehend—too much beauty to behold. I found myself trying to speak, and I blushed as he chuckled low.

  “It seems I’m always startling you. For that I am sorry.” Hadrian crouched and plucked the garland from my lap. “I see you’ve been busy. Here, allow me the honor.”

  I bowed forward, and he gently placed it on my head, careful to make sure my hair was tucked behind my ears. He studied me for an instant before a wide smile broke across his angular face.

  “Perfect. The flowers rejoice in being able to accent your beauty.”

  “That’s a sweet thing to say. Thank you.” I felt myself flush again.

  “It is the truth. They have whispered the matter to me. They are greatly pleased,” Hadrian replied. He sat down beside me, cupped his hand around a fallen flower, and raised it to his face. “I am close to nature and hear such things. Being Fae, it is my duty to listen.”

  I peered at his palm, saddened to see the state of the blossom. Some of the torn and battered petals were starting to wither, but to my amazement they slowly began to heal. I lifted my head abruptly and stared in wonder at Hadrian as he whispered quietly—the language lyrical in nature. Before I had a chance to comment, he stopped and presented me with the now whole flower.

  “How did you do that? Are you magic?” I couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from my voice.

  “Magic, yes, but not as you know it. All Fae are in tune with the elements of the Earth, and they are ours to command. We are taught that all life is sacred and should be nurtured and respected. Of course, I cannot speak for all my kind, but it holds true for me. If it is within my means, I strive to always help.”

  I stroked the petals, not wanting to let go of the precious gift he’d given. I’d never seen anyone do such a feat, and while my mind was still trying to comprehend it I was filled with a strong sense of whimsy. I giggled as I lifted it to my nose to smell the sweet and perfect fragrance.

  “I see I have impressed you. I like that.” Leaning back on his elbow, Hadrian watched me closely. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do that to someone. It’s refres
hing.”

  “I suppose everyone where you are from can do the same things. It must be such a magical place,” I said, happily.

  A dark cloud seemed to pass over his countenance, only to disappear and his calm features return. “Although we each have our own talents and unique traits, yes, there is a lot of similarity. My home is extremely beautiful and I want for nothing, but it lacks the variety I see in abundance here in your world. Things appear more vibrant, enchanting.” Hadrian looked at me with an increased fervency—tantalizing and intoxicating.”

  I found myself caught up in his stare, and the noise from our surroundings faded to a dull murmur. “I’ve never thought of it that way. To me, this is all I know.”

  As if in slow motion, Hadrian picked up a blade of grass and gingerly began stroking my wrist with it. At first it was up and down lines, but gradually it evolved into slow, full circles. With each passing touch, goose bumps arose on my skin, and a new sensation began stirring in my stomach.

  “Have you thought of me since yesterday?” Hadrian bent forward and placed a feathered kiss over my pulse. His mouth brushed over it, his breath warm, and it caused my skin to tingle. He reclined, and smiled as the blade of grass started its teasing again. “Judging from the way your heart is racing, yes." He looked at me, and his eyes smoldered as he whispered. “Aithne, you have been the sole focus of mine—I am bewitched.”

  “But I don’t have any magic,” I uttered, my mind split between watching his lips move and the pleasure he was creating with his touch.

  “Oh, but you do."

  His words roused something within me. I must have worn a look of confusion because he tossed the blade aside and took ahold of my hand with his own.

  “Everything about you entices me—a lure I am helpless to resist. Your very being was designed to intoxicate. The moment I first beheld you, I was instantly transfixed. Your hair . . .” He lifted a lock and brought it to his nose, a slight inhalation caused him to sigh. “. . . the color of the midnight sky. It falls and frames your beauty perfectly. There were many times I watched you from afar and wished I could run my fingers through it just once—one time to see if each strand was as silky as I imagined. I dreamed of holding you close— the sweet fragrance of your hair teasing me as it fanned out across my chest.”