Bride Enchanted

by Edith Layton

  She bowed her head and wept.

  “Ah, no,” he said, gathering her in his arms.

  She clung to him, absorbing the heat of the strong firm body next to hers, wondering how she could take comfort from the one who had so grievously wounded her. He wore a soft linen shirt, and she heard his heart beating against her ear. He was the most wonderful man she’d ever met, and he believed he was a creature out of a fairy story.

  “Do the people of your race have hearts as we do?” she asked softly.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And those hearts beat red blood throughout your veins? Or is it green, or blue?”

  “Red,” he said, with laughter in his voice.

  “And your women bear children as we do?”

  “They used to,” he said with sorrow.

  “Had you not known my great-great however great grandmother, would you have loved me?” she asked very quietly, and waited for the count of three heartbeats before he answered her.

  “I didn’t know her,” he said. “I heard of her. I saw her once too. And I don’t know because I wouldn’t have sought you had I not known about her, and had our situation not grown so desperate. But once having found you, I would love you as I do…insofar as I am capable of doing.”

  “Ah,” she said.

  “Please don’t weep,” he said, his lips on her hair. “I am what I say I am, and all the tears in the universe can’t change that. But for what it’s worth, however long I’ve lived, I’ve never before felt as I feel for you, not for any other being in the universe. And remember, I’ve never lied to you.”

  “Yes,” she said, lifting her tearstained face and looking into his. “You’ve always told me only what I asked of you, if I knew how to ask it. You break my heart, Aubrey, that you truly do.”

  He stayed still. “What else can I tell you?”

  “But why do I feel this way? Tell me honestly, Aubrey. Do you believe you can enchant mortal women? Do I feel this way because you’ve bespelled me?”

  “You’ve asked me that before. No, or only the once as I told you. Never again. Because I wanted you to want me as only free will could make you do.”

  She sat quietly, her tears subsiding, feeling desperate, feeling alone, and needing him although she no longer knew who he was. “Aubrey?” she said. “Can you show me? Nothing mad or strange, but can you do something to show me that you are what you say?”

  His arms tightened around her. “What would you of me?” he asked. “I can’t show you how to weave straw into gold. I can’t make myself vanish, or walk into the air. Not here. I can at my true home, but while my jealous sister hunts for a mate it’s not yet time to take you there. Here our magics are subtle things: spells and seemings, all of it. Shall I make you love me, Eve? But you say you already do.”

  “I do,” she said, looking up into his eyes as best she could through the mist in her own eyes. “So then, can you make love to me now, and cast a spell as you said you did once before so I wouldn’t feel pain? Can you make me forget all this and only revel in you, as though I never knew any doubt or fear or regret? Can you enchant me, Aubrey?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You want me to cast a spell on you, to make you enjoy my lovemaking?”

  “No, I do that already. I want to know if a spell would make a difference.” There, she thought. I didn’t ask for any great feat of magic that would belittle him, just something I would notice, and not anything to shame him. “I just want to know the difference between what is,” she said carefully, “and what you can make me feel, without my knowing it.”

  His smile was sad. But he stripped off his jacket and his shirt, and cast off his other clothing. Then he came into bed with her and held her in his arms. He bent his head to kiss her.

  She hesitated. “Don’t you have to wave your arms, or whisper an incantation or something?” she asked in a small voice.

  “That’s a magician,” he breathed in her ear. “That’s a conjurer. Or a wizard. They try to make magic. I am magic.”

  Then he kissed her. His lips were warm, so sweet and warm that her senses heated, and she struggled to remove her nightshift because she couldn’t bear to have a thing stand between him and herself. When she’d cast it off, she came back to him, and clung to him. This time his kiss was sweet as a sigh and hot as the sun, and the touch of his tongue on hers made her tingle and splinter and soar until she almost couldn’t bear the thrill of it.

  She felt streamers of electricity through her; she felt scalding chills. She shook and shivered, wanting more of the delicious freezing heat. She closed her eyes and saw motes of light sparkling and shifting, as she floated in a sensual haze, and yet at the same time every sensitive bit of her body was jangling. She smelled flowers and amber and everywhere her body puckered and pouted and yearned.

  But something was missing, something vital, something was wrong. In the midst of all this incredible bliss, she was utterly alone. Where was he? “No!” she said.

  She opened her eyes and saw his eyes clear and cool and measuring on her. She pulled away from him with great effort. He opened his arms to let her go, and the further away she got, the easier it became for her to leave his embrace.

  She sat up. “No,” she said breathlessly, holding up a trembling hand. “If that’s what you mean by casting a spell over me, then no.”

  “Why not?” he asked, frowning.

  “Because once we began I couldn’t feel you anymore. Not your reaction or your presence. I couldn’t feel your lips, your tongue; I couldn’t even feel the strength in you.” She took some deep breaths, and then moved closer, and leaned against him. She kissed his neck. “Your skin tastes salty, did you know?” she murmured. “Sun warmed and salty, always. You make sounds when you make love. I love it because it means I’m giving you satisfaction and that makes me feel powerful. You smell of ferns but also like a man.”

  She lowered her voice and her head and spoke against his heart, “I love how I feel when we join. But just now, whatever you did before, I felt that I was alone. If that’s enchantment, I don’t want it. Be Aubrey, just Aubrey, for me, please.”

  He looked surprised.

  “It was interesting,” she said, “and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice. But it wasn’t you. I want you.”

  He smiled, bent his head, and kissed her. She felt his lips, warm and questing, against her own; his hands, gentle and coaxing, on her body. She relaxed. He made love to her with his usual fire, but also with the tempered gentility she had come to expect from him, and with the desire that she always loved. When he came to her at last, she arched her back to help him, and when he came to his moment, she reveled in it before she felt herself shiver and shatter in release as well.

  They lay still a while.

  “Better?” he finally asked.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Before, all I felt was my own pleasure. Nice, but lonely. I don’t know if that was enchantment, but if it was, I think it lacks something. Lovemaking is meant for two people.”

  He lay back on his pillow, put a hand on his stomach, and laughed. “You don’t like enchantment?” he asked.

  “If that’s what it is, then, no, not really. So,” she said with a great effort to sound casual, tracing her name on his chest with the tip of one finger, “you don’t need to use it with me. In fact, I think if you tested yourself you’d find there was no reason to use spells at all, on anyone, and so there’d be no reason to claim you were different from other men, either. I love you just as you are. Most people would, you know. As for the others? Who needs them?”

  He rolled over on his side, and lay still, regarding her. “Eve,” he said quietly, “I don’t use enchantments anymore. And I have never done with you, except that once and now for the second time. But I am what I claim to be. Only time will prove it to you, though.”

  “You sister said she could.”

  “My sister,” he said flatly, “has her own reasons for everything she does, and none of them to profit you
, or me. If you give me the time, in the fullness of it you will come to understand who and what I am. Can you wait, trust me, and continue to stay with me?”

  “Will you tell other people what you are?” she asked. “I mean, like my father and brother, and our relatives, and such?”

  “No,” he said sincerely. “I never planned to do that.”

  “And you won’t mention how old you are?” she asked anxiously. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you claimed to be any age at your next birthday so long as it wasn’t three hundred years. That’s bound to cause talk that we don’t need.”

  “I understand and quite agree,” he said. “Consider it forgotten.”

  “And you won’t discuss your previous wives, except,” she added quickly, “with me?”

  “Of course. If you wish me to talk about them, I will,” he said. “But I can’t see the point in it.”

  She sighed. So did he.

  “I understand,” he said again, gently. “I honestly do. No one else will know, and that’s a vow.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s not that I’m unfeeling or uncaring, and believe me, I more than anyone else know that you’re a very unique person. But you know how people are. They’re bound to find it odd.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I told you only because you asked. And I will never lie to you.”

  “Good,” she said, suppressing a sudden urge to yawn.

  “Good night then,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice.

  She curled up against him. He could work enchantment with her just by being himself. When he withheld his love while making love it hurt her. That was natural, and no spell, unless love itself could be called such. Having a husband who thought he was immortal, an elf or an Old Person, a creature out of legend and folklore, wasn’t wonderful. But if you loved him desperately and you were the only one to know about his conviction that he was that, and in all other respects he was wonderful, you could deal with it. She could, and would. It wasn’t what she had wanted or expected in a husband, but she supposed there were far worse things he could be.

  And if he were discovered, well, eccentrics were all the rage. The greatest fops and fashion setters outdid each other trying to be even more peculiar, dressing in bizarre fashions and taking up outlandish hobbies to call attention to themselves. Collecting dogs, or wearing only green clothing, or such. Her husband’s strange conviction hardly approached such folly. And he’d promised to keep it to himself.

  One day, perhaps, she’d find the reason for this illusion of his, and maybe somehow deal with it, so that he wouldn’t need it anymore.

  “Eve,” he said as she drifted to sleep, nestled against him, his voice vibrating through her own body, “you amaze me. No human has ever disliked sensual enchantments or understood the difference between getting satisfaction, and giving it as well as taking it. You’re right, of course. That does make even the finest spell seem somehow lacking. Humans never notice it. You did. I sought you because you were different, but you continue to amaze me. And if I knew exactly what it was, or if I was at all capable of it, I could believe I was falling in love with you.”

  She froze.

  “No,” he said, taking her hand and holding it to his heart. “That’s a compliment. I never felt this way before, and didn’t know that I could.”

  She sighed. That, she thought, wasn’t much. But perhaps it was, coming from him. It gave her hope, because she wanted and needed it to.

  Chapter 16

  If he was any mythical character, Eve thought sleepily, then Aubrey was Cupid to her Psyche: a dream lover who was gone from her bed every morning when she awoke. But lately, she was so loathe to wake up early that she wasn’t really surprised to find him gone. When she opened her eyes this morning she saw the sun was already well up.

  “Am I become like one of those elegant London ladies?” Eve asked her maid when she came in. Eve yawned and stretched and then accepted her morning cup of hot, bitter chocolate in bed. This was a wealthy married lady’s luxury she really enjoyed.

  “No, ma’am,” her maid said, as she pulled back all the bedchamber curtains to let the sun stream in. “Those ladies don’t wake until noon. It’s only just ten in the morning.”

  “Well, I’m used to being up with the chickens,” Eve said on another huge yawn. “It must be all this fresh air.” She secretly wondered if it was all the lovely lovemaking that was making her so deliciously exhausted, but couldn’t mention that to anyone. That reminded her that not everything about her husband was lovely.

  “Betty,” she said more seriously, sitting up, “You’re from London. Have you heard any strange stories about Far Isle since you’ve gotten here?”

  “Oh, many!” Betty said cheerfully. “But, begging your pardon, ma’am, there’s stories about all old houses, what with ghosts and specters and strange doings in the night. There’s lots of that but I don’t hold with any of it. What I did hear about what’s dodgy, and kindly tell me to stop if I give offense, but they say that the master’s sister is a piece of work, a female to be reckoned with, and no one’s favorite. And that the master is as good as he’s kind, and that’s as much as he’s handsome, so you can imagine how much everyone likes him. And you too, ma’am, they like you too, that’s sure. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you,” Eve said, looking down at her tray, embarrassed and annoyed with herself for asking about gossip from a maid, because now for certain, that would be the new gossip of the day.

  She hardly touched her light repast: the chocolate tasted off, and the little biscuits she usually enjoyed were too rich. Her stomach, her taste buds, or her cook was obviously not in good spirits this morning. So Eve arose, feeling hollow and slightly rancid. After much yawning and stretching, she dressed by herself, in order to avoid Betty’s conversation. She didn’t want any more gossip, after all. Eve threw on a salmon-colored, light wool long-sleeved gown. She brushed out and tied up her hair herself, and wandered downstairs, feeling restless.

  She put on a light shawl and went out into the daylight, hoping that the fresh air would wake her thoroughly. It was deep autumn but the day was mild. The leaves that remained on the trees were ragged and brown, the sun was warm on her upturned face, acorns and dead leaves snapped and crunched under her feet as she trailed down a long path into the little wood nearby. A rambling stream melodically chuckled over smooth stones at the side of the path; the air was cool here and smelled of earth and leaves, and she began to breathe more easily.

  “Good morning, dear little sister,” Arianna said, appearing before her.

  Eve halted, a hand on her heart. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Of course not,” Arianna said merrily. “Tell me, did you ask Aubrey those three questions?”

  Eve was a reasonable woman and prided herself on being an even-tempered soul. But now as she looked at Arianna’s smiling face, she felt rage bubbling up inside her. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at her sister-in-law.

  “How dare you!” she said, her voice low and aggrieved. “You knew about Aubrey’s problem, and the full extent of it too. And yet, under the guise of friendship, you told me to ask the very things that exacerbated it. Poor man! Most of the time he forgets his illusions, but you went and deliberately had me stir things up, didn’t you? You made sure that I saw every facet of his delusion. Well, I did, I have, and guess what, my dear sister?” she added in scornful mockery. “It makes no matter to me.”

  Eve snapped her fingers. “I love him still, so if your goal was to chase me away, I’m afraid it didn’t work. Just never call yourself my ‘sister,’ or my friend again, thank you very much. Now, if you’ll excuse me? I have things to do.”

  But Arianna didn’t stir from where she stood in front of Eve. Nor did she stop smiling, though she cocked her head to the side. “And what you have to do now is think things through, right? But there’s no need. It’s you who labor under an illusion, poor Eve. Aubrey is what he says he is, as
am I.”

  “Oh,” Eve said on a sneer, “I see. How dim of me. You’re one of the Old People too? I suppose you can fly and cast spells? Oh bother! Arianna, I’ll thank you to mock me no more. I know this delusion isn’t a game for Aubrey, but I think that it is with you.”

  “Oh, all my life is a game, I never take things as seriously as Aubrey does, or rather, has begun to do. But hear me out, Eve. What he says, what I say, what we are, is true. Should you like to see for yourself?” Arianna cocked her fair head to the side, for once not smiling, only looking curious. She was wearing a green cape this morning; her hair was unbound, and the sunlight made a golden nimbus around her.

  Eve was tempted, though she knew it wasn’t what Aubrey wanted. But if his sister claimed to be supernatural as well, it might be she was part of some sinister plot to cloud his mind. Or it might be that both children had been brought up to entertain such fancies. Aubrey seldom spoke about his parents. This might be the reason for the delusion, and this was her chance to perhaps know why.

  She stared at Arianna, and suddenly decided that just this once, she might go against Aubrey’s wishes. His reasoning was obviously unbalanced when it came to his personal life and his illusions. If she could see for herself she might be able to help him, or at least help herself to deal with him. She nodded. “Maybe.” She waited, standing firm, but poised to run. No telling what Arianna might do to prove herself.

  Arianna laughed at her stance and her expression. “Oh no. I’ll do nothing right here, and there are no magic tricks. Instead, I’ll let you see my home, our home, your husband’s true home. I’ll take you there and then you’ll doubt us nevermore.”

  “Is it far?” Eve asked, babbling the first thing she could think of to fill the time as she backed away. Nothing could induce her to walk a step further into a dark wood with this strange woman.

  “Not at all. It’s here,” Arianna said. “In the same place as Far Isle, but in a different world, a different and better place. There’s a border, a boundary that only we know. Just follow me.” She held out her hand.