She answered him the only way she knew how, pulling his head down to hers in the way he had taught her, sharing her feelings in that brushing of lips. She had mated him. He was her mate.
Lady Lochinvar coughed softly into her hand, reminding the lovers of her presence. Cassadara giggled as Mâk turned a deep shade of crimson.
"So the Human speaks the truth, my daughter? Ye wish to be wed to this man?"
Cassadara glanced from her mother back to Mâk's brilliant green eyes. The look she saw there reminded her of the first time their eyes had met, when he had knelt before her in the mud. With a word she could shatter his universe. She smiled instead and touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek. "I desire this more than anything."
"When I sent ye to forge an alliance betwixt our houses this was not what I had in mind."
Cassadara swallowed hard. She met her mother's eyes when she answered. "It was ye who sent me to the Dwarf Argolyn, Mother. Knew ye not what I would find there?"
Mother's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ye think this meeting planned? I would not have sacrificed thy escort so thoughtlessly. I had heard only that the Dwarf had a Warrior of some promise in his arena."
Mother's tone indicated that she did not appreciate being questioned. Still, Cassadara pushed her point. "How does the Lord of a major house end up in a Slaver's camp and have such events go unnoticed?"
It was Mâk's turn to answer. "Orcs. Word reached me that the Orcs were attempting to move into the tundra. I did not know of the Orc invasions when I asked your mother to send you. As soon as I realized I had put you in some danger I set out to meet you, to provide an escort. Unfortunately I did not take the Orc threat seriously enough. We were overwhelmed by a large party only three days from here. The corrupt Dwarf had frequent dealings with the Orc raiders. He bought the lot of us within days of our capture. I thought at first he would ransom me back to my house. Instead he sent me to the arena. Had you not happened upon me…"
"Ye set out with six men as escort across Orc-infested territory?" The Lady Lochinvar made no attempt to keep the disapproval from her voice.
Mâkakao looked directly at her for the first time. "No, M'Lady. I set out with thirty men. But ten of us were captured by the Orcs. Six made it home. Without your daughter, none of us would be here now."
Lady Lochinvar said nothing for the space of two drawn breaths. "Thirty men. Ye know what this means."
Mâkakao nodded once.
Cassadara was the one to whisper the word aloud. "War."
Lady Lochinvar merely inclined her head.
"Mother, I should–"
"Ye have responsibilities, daughter. Ye must defend thy house."
Cassadara glanced at Mâk. She saw the turmoil in his eyes. That alone was enough to sway her decision. She would not leave him to wonder. "My place is here with my mate."
Lady Lochinvar merely inclined her head again. "This shall be thy house now, daughter."
"I have studied the Book of Ways much on my journey, Mother, yet I lack the skills of a true Shaman."
Mâk flinched at that. "I would not have you on the battlefield again! Know you not what seeing you brought down has done to me? I have been useless with worry for nigh onto a week now!"
Cassadara stroked his cheek again. "We won, Mâk. We won. And we will win again. It is not the way of the wolf to fight alone. Wolves fight as a pack."
He closed his eyes, a look like pain crossing his face as his emotions warred with each other. When at last he spoke, his voice was as much a plea as a command. "If you will fight, you must learn to fight as a Shaman fights. You are not strong enough to take the frontal assault."
She adjusted her shoulders to the fit of it, slightly bemused by his concern. "Aye."
"You will take some small care to protect yourself, and quit using your body as a shield for mine."
"If ye will do the same."
He swallowed hard. "Aye."
"Ye shall devote thyself to thy studies and not plan ways to escape thy teacher." Mother's voice left no room for argument.
"Aye," Cassadara quietly agreed, trying not to look guilty.
"Shammall shall arrive with the wedding party. He is my gift to ye. Heed him and honor his wisdom. He shall guide ye well." Lady Lochinvar turned to Lord Mâkakao. "What offer ye as a bride's price?"
Cassadara watched in surprise as Mâkakao rose from the bed to cross the room. From a drawer in an ancient chest he removed a small wooden box. Returning to her, he knelt beside the bed. "Cassadara, Lady of Lochinvar, it is my wish to make you my wife as well as my mate. I have asked your mother's permission. Now I ask you. I bring you this small token of my affection as my bride's price."
Cassadara took the small wooden box with trembling fingers. She knew what she would find inside. She was right. Her hands shook as she withdrew the ancient talisman from the box. She had heard of it, but it had been gone from her house for more than the length of her lifetime.
Mâk took the worn platinum chain from her fingers and settled it over her head, fingering the carved wolf's head as it settled between her breasts. "I offer you this and my heart and my soul. Know you that I shall always be your slave, bought and paid for with far more than twenty-five pieces of gold."
"As I am thine, my mate."
"You will have me, then?"
"I will."
When his lips met hers, Cassadara lost track of the fact that her mother still stood in the room.
* * * * *
Lord Mâkakao did his best not to fidget, even though standing beside the altar waiting for his mate was driving him insane. He should have married her secretly, in private, so she wouldn't have to face such a huge crowd.
She was going to bolt when she saw the crowd. He just knew she was. He should have escorted her in himself. Perhaps she was already gone. That was why she wasn't here yet. She didn't know most of these people. She was a private person. She didn't like crowds and ostentation.
Who had ever thought up these barbaric rituals, anyway?
He cursed himself mentally for even thinking the word barbaric. He was sure his soon to be mother-in-law could read his thoughts.
At last the door creaked open, and the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen walked in, escorted by two young people who might possibly have been his niece and nephew, except that they were too well-behaved. If he'd thought about what he'd expected her to wear, it would have been armor, perhaps Mithral chain mail, something befitting her station.
Instead they'd dressed her in robes. Glimmering white robes, as befitted a Shaman. The outer robe floated open around her, while the inner one tied in the front just below her breasts. He tried not to stare at her breasts, though the gossamer robe left little to the imagination. Instead he moved his gaze back to her face.
She looked almost fragile. So beautiful. And so terrified. At any moment, he worried, she'd change to lupine form and launch herself out a window.
The children scattered a trail of rose petals at the feet of the bride. He took her hand when she reached his side, as much to keep her from running away as to provide her support.
The priest was speaking for several seconds before Mâk decided he'd better listen to see what the old man was saying. "We gather here today in the presence of the gods to celebrate the union of Cassadara, daughter of House Lochinvar, and Mâkakao, Lord of House Yarishet. Should anyone have cause why these two should not be united, let that person speak now."
Lady Lochinvar smiled munificently, but Tranorva's frowning face at her side concerned him the most. Mâk held his breath, waiting for the priest to continue.
"Marriage is a contract to be entered into only after a great deal of consideration. Houses make political alliances. People make marriages. Cassadara, come you here of your own free will, and without reservation?"
"I do so come." Her voice was strong. Determined. Mâk relaxed a little, but did not loose his hold on her.
"As a woman is not a slave to be traded at auction, I ask only
who represents you, Cassadara, and if you come with the blessings of your house."
Lady Lochinvar stepped forward. "I, her Lady Mother, represent Cassadara and I bring the blessings of House Lochinvar."
The priest turned his attention back to Mâk. "Mâkakao, Lord Yarishet, come you here of your own volition, entering into this agreement freely?"
He swallowed hard. "I do so come."
The old priest smiled at him. "Mâkakao, neither I nor the gods have the right to bind you to Cassadara. Only you have this right."
"This is my wish."
"Cassadara, neither I nor the gods have the right to bind you to Mâkakao. Only you have this right."
Cassadara stared at the priest, refusing to meet Mâk's eyes. An eternity passed before she spoke. "This is my wish."
"Mâkakao, you may place the ring on her finger."
Darien stepped forward to hand Mâk the ring. Mâk raised Cassadara's hand to his lips, kissing it once before he slipped the family crest onto her little finger. Their eyes met at last, and he saw that hers were filled with tears. Yet she was smiling.
Her fingers closed firmly over his. Something in his heart felt as if it would shatter at any moment.
"Mâkakao, have you words you would say at this time?"
He was supposed to say something, he knew. He had it written down, but then he'd left the parchment in his room, sure he had the words memorized. He'd worked on this speech until it was perfect, and now he couldn't remember a word of it. He stared into her eyes, hoping she couldn't see the panic in his face, and said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Cassadara, daughter of House Lochinvar, you are the answer to my every prayer. I once pledged to serve you loyally for the term of my indenture. I now pledge to love you faithfully until the hour of my death and beyond. You own my heart. I will stand beside you until the end of my days, through feast and famine, through adversity and in times of peace. I will respect your ways and beliefs and honor your house as my own. All that is mine I give to you freely. All that I am I pledge to you."
Well, he'd gotten most of it in there. Not as well as he'd written it, but it would have to do.
The priest spoke again. "Cassadara, have you words that you wish to speak?"
Her smile reached her eyes, though the tears had clumped her lashes into thick dark smudges that made her look so vulnerable. "Mâkakao, I set off on my quest to unite our two great houses with little hope of a true alliance between our peoples. I stand beside you today not as an offering from my house, not as a bridge to cement our alliance, but as a woman. Ye own my heart. I pledge to love ye faithfully until the end of my days and beyond. I shall stand beside ye through feast and famine, through adversity and in times of peace, until the hour of my death. I shall respect thy ways and beliefs. I shall honor thy house as my own. All that is mine I give to ye freely. All that I am I pledge to ye."
She had managed his name. Little else registered. She had practiced until she could twist her tongue around his full name. Tears misted his eyes, but he fought them down, concentrating on the priest's words once again.
The priest knotted a white ribbon across their joined hands. "You have pledged your love and devotion before the gods. We who stand with you today are witness to this pledge. You are now husband and wife. May your love endure as a guiding light to those around you. May your houses prosper even as your love. Mâkakao, you may kiss your bride."
A cheer rose from the crowd. Mâk felt a huge grin tug at his face.
She hadn't run. She'd wanted to, he was sure of it–if not from him, then from the crowd and the pageantry, but she'd stayed. His wife. His mate. The creature of his imaginings had been infinitely inferior to the reality before him. He drew her close with his free hand and nuzzled her gently as was her way before he placed his lips over hers–as was his way.
Cassadara's eyes widened in surprised. Her free hand found its way to the back of his neck, turning the kiss into something more passionate than the chaste public kiss he'd expected. Unadulterated joy filled his heart.
Her voice came as a soft caress against his cheek. "This mating of the lips is called a kiss."
He shifted back to her own language, lest their words become too public. "Mmm. I like your description better. 'Tis another kind of mating my body desires of you. I have hungered for you unimaginable during the days of your convalescence."
"Ye shall have to wait longer," she teased.
Desire warred with concern, dampening his spirits. "Are you not recovered yet, Mia~Ell? We could have postponed this pageantry yet another week."
"I am well. I was recovered a week ago. Know ye not that I am a Shaman? I heal quickly. Though my mother's touch did much to fight off the Orc's fever spells as well. I meant only that ye would have to wait through a long afternoon of feasting and well wishing before ye can fulfill thy other desires."
He growled against her ear. "We shall see about that."
Grasping her bound hand in his, Mâkakao turned them both to face the crowd, raising their hands high together. "Friends, I present to you Lady Yarishet!"
Another cheer shook the grand hall. At his signal, the musicians began to play a traditional wedding ballad. The guests moved aside to clear the center of the marble floor.
Mâk swept Cassadara into his arms.
* * * * *
Cassadara felt the panic eddying closer again. "I canna dance!" she whispered fiercely. He merely grinned at her again, that foolish besotted look making him even more adorable.
"You can fence."
"Aye. But I canna dance. My master despaired of me and quit our service."
"Watch my feet. Move with me as if we were fencing. Your robes hide your feet. If you are not perfect, no one will know."
Watch his feet. She could not even see his feet. He held her much too tightly. And people would notice. She tried desperately to remember the steps her dance-master had tried to teach her. She winced as she stomped on his instep. He only grinned at her.
"Relax, Mia~Ell. 'Tis no contest. No one will grade you when we are done."
"I look the clumsy fool!"
He brushed his lips lightly over hers, pulling her even more tightly against his long, lean length. She could feel the scorching heat of his erection pressing against her. There was another dance she'd rather have been doing with him.
"Quit thinking." He lifted her till her toes cleared the floor. "Put your feet on mine. Move with me."
She had to. She could reach nothing else. His strength supported her with little obvious effort. No mean feat considering she weighed a bit over ten stone. Despite herself, she began to relax. Perhaps it was the aphrodisiac of his warm arms supporting her or the feel of his erection pressed against her as they circled the dance floor, but her body began to move to the rhythm of the music. Almost hypnotically she felt herself flow to the music.
"How is it that I want you more now than I did the first time, my love? You are my addiction. Truly I am bewitched."
"I feared that first time that it was only the healing made ye want me and that ye might see me as thy kinsmen did once the magic faded."
"The magic will never fade for me, my love. You are my fantasy lover, far more than anything I could ever have wished for."
She closed her eyes as she pressed her cheek against his neck, hardly noticing that her feet had slipped to the floor and now seemed to move to the rhythm of their own volition. Neither did she notice that the music had changed and that their guests flowed onto the dance floor. "I thought never to find this, Mâk. Marriages for those of our state are so often for alliances rather than for love. I despaired of ever finding someone who would care for me for who I am, rather than for the power of my house."
He laughed, but the sound held no humor. "Since I was a barely more than a child every eligible daughter from every house has been presented to me. They felt nothing for me, nor I for them, but still my father would have me marry. I wondered that he did not auction me off to the highest
bidder. I vowed with his death that I would marry for love. You are indeed the fulfillment of my fondest fantasy."
A thought crossed her mind, and she spoke it aloud. "When ye asked for a daughter of my house as thine emissary was it thy plan to capture a Wolf-woman for thine own?"
He laughed softly against her ear. "There was that in my fantasy, I suppose, though not to capture. I thought to court you, perhaps. I knew you were not betrothed. My emissary spoke of your beauty. I thought him besotted, but truly he understated the truth."
"Ye are besotted. I am not beautiful. I am short and plain and I have hair the color of Gnoll hide. And," she added, "I know none of the arts of being a Lady."
He stroked her hair. "I love your Gnoll pelt. I love everything about you. And I want you more than I every imagined I could want any woman. Let us leave the guests to amuse themselves while we steal away from here."
"Will not thy court be gossiping about us for weeks?"
"Do you care?"
His lips moved over her ear, tugging on the lobe, sending shivers down her spine. His hand caressed her hips, his erection swaying against her to the rhythm of the music.
She felt as if she might peak here on the dance floor from the sheer touch of his body against her. "I care for nothing but ye. Take me. Take me here or take me away, but I must have ye."
He maneuvered them unobtrusively through the crowd and out onto one of the balconies that lined the great hall's corridors. Laughter danced in his eyes as he slipped out of the ribbon binding their hands and unwound his dress sash from about his waist.
Cassadara tried not to giggle as he looped it about the balcony post and slid to the ground. She could have made the jump safely enough in lupine form, but instead she followed him down the makeshift ladder. There were guards everywhere, but fortunately they were looking for intruders from the outside, not escapees from within.
"Where can we go?" she whispered.
Way of The WOlf: The Northlanders Book I Page 7