He spoke in a rush. "Surely you know I want to marry you."
"You do?" Pure happiness engulfed her, a never-ending cascade of dreams and wishes, of deep desires and things she could only imagine.
He slipped his arm around her waist, his fingers playing across her back. He looked deeply into her eyes, as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. "But do you want to join your life with one such as I, who lives by night and sleeps by day? Who must gain sustenance from the blood of others? These are factors we must discuss."
There were so many things she wanted to say, so many questions she needed to ask. But one question remained foremost, one she feared to ask but knew she must. "Do you–" She twisted her hands in her lap. "Do you kill others for sustenance?" This enigma had taunted her for a long time, for longer than she cared to admit.
"No!" He shook his head vehemently. "Never have. That is the way of all the vampires of Avador, or should be." He frowned. "There may be one or two who don't follow the rules we established centuries ago."
He went on to explain how the vampires had always protected the mortals from the bandregas, the bandregas' knowledge of magic and the sacred well, which enabled them to have human features. "The well that you poisoned," he concluded, "and we can only hope that is the end of those creatures." He raked his fingers through his hair. "But why are we talking about these demons, who are no more? What I want to know is, will you marry me?" She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. "You must think carefully, dearest. It will be a different life or you, far different from what you're accustomed to. Until we know what Kendall will do, I fear you must depend on me." He smiled ruefully. "I know how much your independence means to you." He stopped talking and looked at her inquiringly. "So . . .?"
She smoothed her fingers over his hand, loving the feel of his cool skin as she sorted out her words. "But I have a question for you. Will you still love me while I grow old and gray, and you remain eternally young?"
He wrapped his fingers around her hand. "Never doubt it. I will always love you. Do you think I care for you because of your youth and good looks–and you are beautiful, you know." He shook his head. "I love you for your very self, for everything that makes you the person you are, for your goodness and spunk, and yes, your independence. My love for you will never change."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his hard muscles against her cheek, so overcome with happiness she couldn't say a word. A drumbeat of temptation throbbed inside her, a longing to lie in bed with him, to make love that left them both breathless.
His husky voice enticed her back. "Fianna, will you marry me?"
"Yes!"
"Sweetheart!" He crushed her to him and kissed her until she thought they would both go out of their minds. She could never get enough of the taste of his lips, the pressure of his arms around her, the faint scent of cloves that always clung to him. His hand slid down to her breast, his fingers cupping the soft mound, his movements slow and deliberate. She bit her lip, at the point of bursting with passion.
He stood and drew her toward the bed, lifting her and easing her onto the velvet bedspread. Returning to the bench, he pulled his boots off, then slipped out of his tunic, trousers, and under-tunic. As he stood, she gazed at his body by the flickering oil lamp, and she could tell, ah, she could tell, he wanted her. Joining her on the bed, he raised himself and looked long and fully into her eyes, as if to ensure himself of her love and to assure her of his love for her.
Expectancy stirred within her, a sweet anticipation of what was to come, a nebulous something she had only dreamed about.
He nuzzled her neck and murmured against her skin. "We will wait until we marry before we truly seal our love. For now, let us pleasure each other." Placing soft kisses from her mouth to her cheeks and on to her throat, his hands moved lightly, seductively, over her body. A pressing need taunted her, a languid heat that spread over her body. She raised herself and drew her nightgown off, then tossed it onto the floor. His fingers skimmed up her thigh, light as air against her bare skin. He slid his hand between her legs and knew where to touch her at her most sensitive spot. Lightly, he caressed the tender nub; slick and wet, she was ready for him. Unconsciously, she held her breath for she knew not what was to come. She let her breath out in a slow sigh as he raised himself atop her. Whispering of his love, he made rhythmic movements, his engorged shaft lightly sliding over her. Ah, his lovemaking was more than she'd ever imagined, a sweet torment of wanting him. She made little whimpering sounds as her fingers dug into his back, and she tossed and turned, his movements unbearably tantalizing, her body begging for fulfillment. A slow heat blossomed inside her, a craving for satisfaction.
"Oh, oh, oh!" She gasped and bucked as spasms of rapture rippled through her, a pleasure like nothing she'd ever known. She thrashed on the bed, lost in a glorious relief that flowed on and on. All too soon, the spasms slowed and stopped, and she thought she would die with happiness.
Gaderian kissed her on the lips, and she loved him all the more for letting her take her pleasure before him, for waiting until she was spent.
He moved from her, and she gave him a questioning look. "But you . . . ?"
Without a word, he guided her hand to his full member, showing her how to caress him. Ah, she'd never known she could give and receive such pleasure. She fondled him with slow, steady movements, quickening her speed as he indicated, and saw the emotions that played across his face.
"Ah!" Gasping and moaning, he found fulfillment too, as she kept her hand wrapped around him.
For a long time afterward, she lay within his arm, neither saying a word, lost in the glory of their love and in their happiness with each other. Time stood still, the only sound in the room their breathing.
He leaned over and kissed her, his fingers skimming over her face. "We'll have to marry soon," he whispered. "I can't wait much longer before we truly belong to each other."
Through eyes drowsy with contentment, she looked his way. "Tomorrow?"
"How I wish. But I must talk to one of the druids at the temple. And no doubt, you will want a special dress."
Warmly satiated, she cuddled closer to him. "All I need is you."
"Just the same, I will see about getting you a dress. What's your favorite color?"
"Green, goes with my coloring." She stretched her arm across his hard chest, feeling the light matting of hair there. She wished they could make love again, but drowsiness dragged her down, a need for sleep after her interrupted slumber of the previous night.
"Green, then that is what I will get you." He rolled off the bed and stood, looking down at her. "Now I'll let you get your sleep. And within a couple evenings or so I'll see about having one of the druids come here to marry us." She saw his smile in the semi-darkness. "A couple nights from now–is that too soon for you?"
She shook her head. "Now would not be too soon."
"Very well, then. The sooner you are my wife, the better." His face hardened. "Something tells me we haven't seen the last of Angus Kendall."
Chapter Twenty
Inside the spacious library of Gaderian's mansion, Fianna stood next to him before the temple druid who would perform the wedding ceremony. Suffused with happiness, she reveled in Gaderian's nearness, in the knowledge that she would soon by his wife. The apple green silk dress he'd bought for her shimmered by the light of the room's oil lamps, and the gold chain–also a gift from her soon-to-be husband–glimmered around her neck. Besides the eight servants that comprised the mansion's household staff, Moreen and Egan were the only other guests, Egan having recently returned from Uisnech, far to the north.
A trace of sadness tainted her joy. She wished her mother were with her, this dear woman she missed every day. And her brother. Some day, some way, she would have to get in touch with both of them. Too many moonphases had passed with no communication between them. Her heart beat fast with joy but anxiety, too, for a score of emotions that lurked within her head, bu
t more than anything, for recognition of this happy day, when she and Gaderian would belong to each other.
Book-lined shelves filled the room from floor to ceiling, more volumes than she would ever have time to read, although she knew she'd have plenty of time for reading. Deep blue velvet draperies graced the room's lone window, one that stretched almost the length of one wall, and a soft sheepskin rug warmed the flagstone floor. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, with a plaque of bronze above it, the plaque's surface engraved with a fascinating curvilinear pattern. Bottles of wine and crystal glasses stood on a far table, waiting to be served to the guests after the ceremony. Someone in a corner–a servant, perhaps–softly played the lute, a sweet melody often performed at weddings.
The druid, tall and skeletal, with a bushy beard and long gray hair past his shoulders,
indicated for her and Gaderian to join him at the front of the room, while the guests viewed the proceedings from chairs grouped around the library. Since no flowers blossomed this late in the year, the servants had placed bowls of potpourri throughout the room, and their spicy aroma added a festive touch to the occasion. Outside, complete darkness covered the countryside, with tree branches and bushes rippling in a light breeze. A warm spell had settled over the land, rendering a shawl unnecessary, for which Fianna was grateful. She wouldn't want to conceal any part of the lovely silk dress with its delicate embroidery at the sleeves and neckline. She wore her hair in an upswept style, with pearl-tipped pins, a gift from the housekeeper, holding the locks in place.
Light, excited chatter filled the air, the guests apparently happy for her and Gaderian. Once more, Fianna realized the esteem in which Gaderian's servants held him, prompting her to wonder if they actually knew of his true essence. Surely they did.
In his white, flowing robe, Druid Gareth raised his hands, his sleeves falling back to reveal his thin, almost emaciated arms. The room quieted, all attention focused on the bridal couple.
"Gaderian Wade wishes to take Fianna Murtaugh as his wife," intoned the solemn druid, "for as long as they both shall live." Obviously, mused Fianna, the druid didn't know that Gaderian was a vampire, for the undead were still feared in Avador. When would the indictment against the vampires ever be lifted? she agonized, another worry that she pushed aside for this night of joy.
Druid Gareth indicated for Gaderian to raise his right hand and for her to raise her left. From a table beside him, he fetched a green ribbon, for green was the color of matrimony and a symbol of fertility. Another trace of sadness colored her mood, since she and Gaderian would never have a child. She smiled, shoving all misgivings aside, for Gaderian and he alone was all that mattered.
The druid tied the green ribbon around their joined wrists. "Let the tying of this knot symbolize the love between this man and woman, and the hoped-for longevity of their marriage." He gestured for both of them to bow their heads, and, reaching from one of the bowls, sprinkled potpourri on their heads. After she and Gaderian stood straight again, Druid Gareth looked out over the assembled group. "And let this man and this woman share happiness and good fortune. May the sun always shine on them." At these last words, Fianna slanted a glance at Gaderian, for the sun would never shine on him. The druid ended the ceremony by untying the ribbon that bound their wrists. "Gaderian and Fianna, you are now man and wife." A tight smile twisted the druid's lips, as if even that expression was too much of an effort. "Gaderian., you may kiss your bride."
Gaderian drew her into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her lips, the light in his eyes promising so much more. The expression in his gaze seemed to pledge that he would make her happy, despite the vast differences between them. Or was that only her imagination, spawned by the wish that they might find joy together as man and wife? Silently, she vowed she would try to give him happiness in every way possible.
He released her, and the two of them smiled at the assembled group, her own eyes misting. Everyone else rose from their chairs and beamed at them as Birgit headed for the wine table to pour drinks for the guests, including the servants.
Egan, followed by Moreen, approached them. A slinky black satin dress molded Moreen's body, the vampiress as beautiful as ever. A spurt of jealousy stabbed Fianna, an emotion she quickly suppressed, for Gaderian loved only her now, his new wife. Besides, she considered Moreen a dear friend, one who had contributed to the defeat of the bandregas.
Egan smiled broadly. "Well, Gaderian, never thought I'd see the day you'd embrace marital felicity. Not that the bride isn't worth it," he added with an apologetic smile in Fianna's direction. He caught Gaderian's warning look and coughed. "I mean the ladies all liked you."
"Egan, why don't you stop talking?" Moreen suggested at his side. "You've said enough already." She smiled to take the sting from her words.
"Yes." Egan grinned at them. "I just want to say I'm so happy for both of you." He winked at Moreen. "Perhaps I should marry one of these days."
"Goddess help the woman who marries you." Moreen jabbed his elbow. "Just teasing."
Shortly after, Egan and Moreen departed, going their separate ways, and after drinking their wine, the servants and the druids left, the servants to go back to their rooms, Druid Gareth to the temple in Moytura. Fianna stood alone with her new husband, an awkward silence settling on them.
Shyness overcame her, the sure knowledge that they would consummate their marriage this night, the ultimate intimacy she had dreamed of so often.
Gaderian eased her into his arms and kissed her forehead, then wrapped his arm around her waist. "Shall we go upstairs now?" he whispered in his deep voice.
"Yes." Her heart thudded against her ribs as they headed down the long hallway to the stairs that stood at the mansion's entrance. Her dress swirled around her ankles, her gold chain twinkling in the faint light of the oil lamps the servants had kept burning.
She fingered the clingy material of her gown as they mounted the stairs, arm-in-arm. "A lovely dress you bought me. I'm afraid I didn't thank you enough earlier." She looked down at her feet. "And my slippers."
He smiled down at her. "That shade of green does become you. Goes so well with your chestnut hair. I can see why it's your favorite color."
Mindful that he surely meant their mundane talk to ease the shyness he sensed within her, they reached the second floor. She wondered if he felt as awkward as she. Had he never made love to a virgin before?
They entered her bedchamber, where one oil lamp bestowed a soft glow on the bed and furnishings. The now familiar fragrance of potpourri imbued a pleasant ambience to the room.
She stood by her dresser to remove her pins, setting them in a white porcelain dish. With one quick movement, she shook her hair, letting it cascade down her back. Gaderian came to stand behind her, fingering the silky locks.
"Such beautiful hair," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist. He placed a light kiss on her shoulder, moving his hands upward to cup her breasts. He pressed his body against her buttocks, his need so obvious it made her catch her breath. They stood that way for several moments, as his hands and fingers worked magic on her body. Without a word, he turned her around to face him, drawing her ever closer, his body moving rhythmically against hers. She was sinking, drowning in her desire for him, a longing so desperate she wondered how long they both could wait before they made love. She locked her arms behind his head, covering his face with kisses, thrusting her hips against him, her breath coming faster, a heat kindling within her.
"Ah, Fianna, I've wanted you like this for so long, ached for you," he whispered in her ear. "But we had better go more slowly now, or neither one of us will be able to wait. I fear we are both taking this too fast."
First shoving the bedspread aside, Gaderian lifted her and set her gently on the bed, then stretched out beside her, his eyes heavy with passion. With the silky sheets beneath them, he drew her close to him, and she went willingly into his embrace. He spoke in his low, husky voice, a voice meant to reassure her, for her re
ticence was as evident as the gold chain around her neck.
"No doubt you would have liked to have your mother with you for the ceremony."
She nodded in the semi-darkness. "My mother, yes, and my brother. Not my stepfather." How little they knew of each other, she acknowledged with a jolting clarity, for she wondered if he realized the depth of her hostility toward Kelvin Connor.
He patted her arm. "We must learn more of each other," he murmured in the quiet room, as if he had read her thoughts. "We have the rest of our lives together."
"The rest of my life," she replied, as always aware of the vast differences between them.
"It will be a pleasant and exciting experience," he said, "getting to know each other." He murmured in her ear, "One thing we already know–how much we love each other."
"Ah, yes, my husband. Never doubt my love for you."
"Enough talk." He eased out from her and sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. His tunic, trousers, and under-tunic followed, then he lay down beside her again. She took in the magnificence of his body, his broad chest with its sprinkling of curly hairs, his lithe, sinewy body. Her gaze rested on that most private part of him, and she knew he was ready for her. A trace of uneasiness touched her mind, for he was so big, she wondered how he'd ever fit inside her.
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