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

by Weatherford, Lacey

  I glanced around as I attempted to compose myself. In all honesty, I had expected to find Hadrian, but it appeared my heart and mind had conspired against me. Not that I was complaining. Just being in William’s presence was enough to stir emotion and addle my thinking. Two men—two responses, I was definitely in trouble.

  “Were you looking for my father?” His question crossed the distance, and even his rich baritone was alluring. It struck me that I never realized how truly seductive his voice was until this moment, and part of me would’ve been content to spend the rest of the day just listening to him speak.

  I shook my head. Not able to answer, my eyes finally rested back on him.

  “You came looking for me?”

  I ignored his question and moved farther into the establishment. It had been a while since I’d been here—the last being when William’s father had given him the striker’s apprenticeship. I would sit and watch for hours as he helped swing the large hammer, pounding down on the fired metal as his father held it over an anvil. I had been intrigued how patiently he found the best places to strike the hot iron. I’d also tried to resist staring at the way his muscles rippled—flexing with each movement. It was one of the first instances when I realized my friend was turning from a boy into a man.

  “What are you working on today?” I inched toward the pit of coals where William had been standing, careful not to get too close lest the heat or flame catch my garments on fire. A fine sheen of sweat glistened over my skin, and I wondered how he was able to stand such temperatures each day. It made me appreciate the coolness of the river and my daily visits there.

  “Just a few odds and ends,” He looked as though he wanted to say more, his head slightly tilted sideways as he studied me. I tried not to squirm under his scrutiny, relieved when he finally turned away. “Would you like to watch as I make a horse shoe?” His eyes lit up, the reflection of the small flames amongst the coal danced over his soot-smudged skin.

  “Isn’t that the farrier’s job?” I questioned.

  “It is, but John’s mother has fallen ill, and he’s had to go stay with her through her recovery. Instead of closing up his store and losing business, my father stepped in and offered my services. Most of the work has already been done—I’m just assisting with the remainder.” Shrugging, William bent over a pile of steel bars and choosing one, brought it back to his work station. “I love working with my hands—working with metal—so I was happy to oblige. Plus I have the skills.” He pointed to a small bench seat.

  I quietly sat as he picked up a blackened pair of tongs and stuck the bar into the fiery coals. Pulling it out to check whether the material was ready, he grinned at me then slid it back in.

  “I need to wait until it’s a yellowy-orange color before I start striking it. That’s the best temperature, and it’ll help make the final product stronger.” Judging the appearance again, he removed it from the coals and placed part of it on the anvil. Even though I’d been expecting the hit, I jumped at the force behind the hammer as William quickly began pounding. “I can’t dally when the steel is ready. Each moment out of the fire, it’s cooling.” He yelled his actions over the noise.

  The process involved a lot of repetition—heating and striking, bending and filing—but it wasn’t long before my attention strayed. It was impossible to keep focused on the creation when my eyes kept straying to the creator.

  William was magnificent.

  I knew that some time during the day he’d been wearing his custom linen shirt, the discarded clothing now hanging from a hook by the door. He was bare-chested—his skin golden, a fine crop of hair dusted over his chest—and I found myself cursing the leather apron he wore as it prevented me from seeing all the ways his body had changed, hiding what I could only imagine were tight muscles.

  His arms were strong. Each bicep bulged with every strike of the hammer, and I was mesmerized by the way they flexed. I wanted to touch them—see how far I could wrap my own hands around them, and I blushed at the thought. I would never presume to actually touch him, but my mind ran rampant with the idea. I wondered whether he would tremble under my fingers.

  William turned, giving me full view of his back, and unable to help myself, I gasped. If I had been impressed by his arms, it was nothing in comparison to the hard expanse of muscles displayed. He was like a well-oiled machine—everything tight and fluid—my need rising to desperation. I wanted to touch him, feel him, and experience what it was like to place my hands over such a powerful body. There was no doubt in my mind that working in his father’s shop had forged him into something potent and formidable.

  And he could be yours, I thought, causing my breath to catch. I closed my eyes, determined to bring my body back into submission. There could be no turmoil if I wasn’t looking at the very thing that enflamed me.

  “Aithne?”

  “Yes.” I squinted my eyes tighter, refusing to look at him. It was in vain, however, because just the sound of his voice set off another flurry of sensations. I was so new to this—I wasn’t sure whether to be scared or excited.

  “You came looking for me, didn’t you?” The sound of tools being dropped on a hard surface and him moving about made my eyelids pop open. William removed his apron, wiped his face, chest, and arms with a cloth and then slipped his shirt back on. He let it hang open, giving me a glorious look at his chest. It was just as I thought—more hard ridges and contours with a thin trail of hair that disappeared beneath the top of his trousers. Throwing the towel back on the table, he stood there staring. Only then did I realize he’d asked me a question.

  “I think so.”

  “You think so?” He chuckled, and moved toward me. A flutter of panic—excitement—filled me and I quickly stood to keep some semblance of distance between us.

  “Well, I just started running and my feet lead me here . . . to you.” I cringed at how stupid I sounded. “I mean . . . I wanted to . . . I’m glad . . . I was thinking about you . . .” My goodness, I was rambling.

  His face lit up as he smiled widely, and suddenly he was right in front of me. “Do you know how adorable you are when you blush?” I ducked my head and wanted to hide, but he lifted my chin with his finger. His touch caused me to flush further. “It was like divine intervention to look up and see you there. You’ve been on my mind all day too.”

  “I have?”

  He was instantly serious. “Yes, there’s so much I want to say, but there’s one thing I keep lingering on—to the point of distraction.”

  I licked my lips as my heart began thudding faster. “Distraction?”

  “Maddening.”

  And suddenly it wasn’t the heat generated from the forge’s fire pit that caused my skin to flush, but him. He was standing so close. He brought his hands on either side of my head as I backed up against the wall. There was nowhere else to look but into his eyes, and my knees weakened by the intensity I found there.

  “I’m sorry.” I whispered.

  The corner of his mouth curled into a smile again, deepening his dimple, and the sudden impulse to reach up and touch it flooded over me. For the second time that day, my body betrayed me and I watched as my fingers rose, stroking his whiskered cheek gently. The contact elicited a soft sigh from me.

  “Don’t ever apologize for dominating my every thought, Aithne. Besides, do you want to know the one thing I keep lingering on?”

  My frown wrinkled in curiosity. “What?”

  “This.” And he leaned in and kissed me.

  Any uncertainty I had with my first kiss was absent as I stopped thinking and gave myself over to the moment. William’s lips were surprisingly soft, brushing tenderly over mine as his hand lowered to cup the side of my face.

  His thumb swept back and forth, and I became distracted from the pleasure his mouth created. I rose on my tip toes and pressed my lips harder against his—I couldn’t get close enough. He pulled away slightly and tested my reaction. I offered him a brief nod. It was all the invitation he ne
eded. All hesitation was cast aside as he kissed me again—this time deeper, and more assertively.

  His tongue teased the seam of my mouth. I waited not knowing what was expected and then parted my lips slightly. The first touch of our tongues left me moaning softly—the sensation of them dipping and dancing together was more than I could handle. It was unlike anything I’d ever known. I gripped his shirt and held on tightly.

  William, I was kissing William, and it was glorious. There was no confusion, everything was as it should be—it was just the two of us.

  What about me, fair Aithne? Have you given up on us so soon? What of our first kiss?

  Hadrian’s voice in my head was like being doused with freezing cold water. I unclenched my fists from around William’s shirt, and pushed—putting all my weight behind it to move him.

  I ignored the bewildered look and recoiled from his reach as he tried to pull me into his embrace.

  “Aithne?”

  I shook my head back and forth, quickly ducked under his arm, and fled towards the doorway.

  “Wait!”

  I paused, my hands bracing the door frame. “I can’t. I’m so sorry. I . . .” I heard him move, no doubt to come after me. Tears flooded my eyes—my heart breaking. I closed myself off from the pleasure I’d just experienced. Guilt was the only thing I could focus on—guilt for betraying both Hadrian and William. Neither knew of the other, nor did they realize they were vying for the affections of someone who didn’t deserve such attention.

  William’s hand fell lightly on my arm, and I longed to turn around and step into the safety and security of his arms. I wanted to forget everything and become the girl who once had a crush on her brother’s best friend. But I couldn’t. I wished I’d never spent hours idly day dreaming about the Fae. But I had.

  “What’s the matter?” He twirled me around and bent to look into my eyes. With the pad of his thumb he wiped away a stray tear. “What aren’t you telling me? Please, speak to me.” His look of concern crushed me. He merited so much more than my indecisiveness. “Is there someone else?”

  I gasped and stumbled backward. The answer must have been displayed through my countenance because his shoulders slumped slightly. I wanted to tell him no. I was merely overwhelmed from the feelings he’d stirred with his kiss. Nodding, he let go of my arm, and tension filled the space between us.

  “I . . .” I still couldn’t finish a sentence. I stretched forth my hand then let it drop when he stared at it.

  “I think it’s best you go, Aithne.” His voice was low and gravelly.

  I didn’t want to, but there was a growing sense of awkwardness between us now. I longed to tell him I was sorry and that I wasn’t sure—it wasn’t what it seemed. I wanted to reveal the confusion of my mind, but I’d hurt him enough.

  Turning around again to leave, I was stopped once more by his parting words.

  “I’ve waited for what seems like a lifetime to make you mine, Aithne, and I’m not afraid to wait a little more. I just ask that you let me prove I’m worthy to claim your heart.”

  “William,” I whispered, my back still turned.

  “You know where you can find me. I’m patient.” I didn’t deserve him, but I nodded.

  I gathered my gown in my hands and didn’t stop running until I reached the safety of my room. Sobs erupted from my throat as I flew past my father’s office, threw myself onto my bed, and cried.

  My once simple life had become complicated.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aithne

  I’d spent a restless night tossing and turning, my meeting with William weighing heavily on my mind. It wasn’t surprising when I awoke that my head pounded from lack of sleep.

  Although the tears had slowly subsided, my thoughts lingered on my predicament. Torn between two good men, I wasn’t sure what I should do. Staring through the window as the night sky gave way to dawn, I finally decided that worrying or crying wouldn’t solve my dilemma. I was determined to enjoy the upcoming Midsummer event and focus on continuing my preparations. Pushing aside all thoughts, I left for Farnsworth Forest after completing my daily chores.

  As I dropped my basket to the ground, I felt a small dash of satisfaction. With so many households also seeking the necessary herbs for tomorrow night’s festival, I was nervous I’d find most of the plants gathered. For the past month I’d been exploring Farnsworth Forest for undiscovered groves. I stepped into my favored one this morning, I was grateful it was untouched.

  Old wives tales or not, I believed that herbs not only held medicinal uses, but magical as well. It was vital that whatever I brought home for my family should bring us the greatest fortune in the upcoming seasons. I would leave nothing to chance.

  The small enclosed area held what I needed—St. John’s Wort, fern, vervain, and yarrow. The different colors were scattered throughout, and as I located the pretty yellow petals of the St. John’s plant, I knelt beside them. I slid on my leather gloves and carefully began picking. It would do my family and me no good if I rushed and bruised the flowers. They needed to be in the most pristine condition to remain potent.

  I began arranging them in the center of my basket and softly hummed a tune. Excitement was building about the festival tomorrow and I anticipated all the dancing. There would obviously be the exchange between William and me and my stomach fluttered at the thought. As the King and Queen, we would make vows before opening the Midsummer Night’s gala with a dance. It was said the magical ceremony determined whether crops failed or everyone prospered. Even though I wasn’t sure if it was true, since the long awaited honor was mine, I didn’t want to let my village down.

  Maybe he’ll kiss me again. Images from yesterday flooded my mind, addling my senses. Refusing to get caught up in the swell of emotions I refocused on my task and pushed all visions of William aside.

  My nose crinkled while I twirled the small flower between my two fingers. Even though it held the prettiest of yellow shades, there was no disguising the strong odor emanating from it. To me it was a shame—beautiful things deserved to have no such flaws, but my mother would tell me, in this case, it was a wise thing. The plant may hold strong medicinal value, but its other name, Chase Devil, made me shudder. The buds contained the power to ward off evil.

  I wonder if there’s a flower that could help me decide my heart, I mused.

  The appearance of Hadrian and William in my mind caused me to unintentionally crush the flower in my hand. I dropped it to the ground and noticed the distinctive reddish liquid left behind on my gloves. Not wanting to soil my dress, I quickly wiped my hands over the grass, before I stood. My basket held enough St. John’s, so I turned and spied the purple vervain bush. If I kept up this pace, my herb picking would be completed in no time and I’d have the rest of the day to myself.

  “Hello, Aithne. I hoped I’d find you today.”

  My breath hitched. Magic truly was in the air if the mere thought of Hadrian brought him to me.

  When I glanced up, my heart skipped a beat. There he stood, in all his glory, and —if it were possible—looking even more handsome than before. There was no denying that I found him appealing. My body instantly reacted, and guilt tugged at my heart as William was overshadowed by Hadrian’s magnetic influence.

  He was here.

  My gaze fixed on him. Happiness filled me, and I invitingly stretched out my hand. There was a brief flash of hesitancy before a smile broke across his face, and he stepped forward. I made room for him, and tried to hide my disappointment when he chose a small crop of rocks instead. He was close, but not within touching distance. A feeling niggled within me—something wasn’t right.

  “Are you well?” I asked, studying his appearance. Fear lanced my heart. Hadrian was acting like a complete stranger.

  “What are you doing?” He ignored my query and looked about him. “Are you gathering for the festival you’ve spoke about?” He bent down and scooped up a discarded flower. His soft breath restored the blossom to its f
ormer beauty and he leaned forward, while gently tossing it into my basket

  “Yes. Since my mother’s passing, gathering the proper plants and herbs for each festival has been my responsibility. It’s a duty I enjoy immensely.” I smiled. “I grew up with stories about the wonders of nature.” I plucked a vervain blossom, showed him it, then reverently placed the blossom in my basket and continued to gather more. “When it is treated with respect, we can find great strength and healing. Not to mention, magic.”

  “You are definitely a lover of all things magic, my Aithne,” Hadrian chuckled. “I’ve never beheld anyone who could look with such wonder and believe so wholeheartedly.”

  “I’ve been dreaming of it for what seems like a lifetime. Some of my earliest childhood memories were listening while the women talked about experiences they couldn’t explain. At night, I would be put to sleep with stories of Fae princes and faraway lands filled with mystical wonder. Once I even ran away determined to discover magic for myself. My brother teased me mercilessly for every trap I set, with the hopes of meeting . . . well, of seeing someone like you. Even my imagination didn’t serve you justice.” I closed my eyes as I softly laughed over my past antics. “My father was always telling me to grow up, but to me, magic is forever.”

  “Not everything is. Sooner or later we must face reality and accept that not everything can be viewed through the eyes of a child,” Hadrian spoke; the seriousness in his tone caused me to stop my gathering and look at him intently.

  “What are you saying?” A burst of panic filled me.

  “That no matter how much we try to hold on, some things are never meant to last—they’re here mere moments before they are gone.” His response was more to himself than me. “We are fools to try and convince ourselves otherwise.”

  “What’s happened, Hadrian? Why are you speaking like this?” I abandoned my basket, hurried over to him and sat at his feet. I grabbed hold of his hands, only to have him slowly pull them away. He wasn’t himself and I was frightened. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”