Faery Weddings

by Jo Beverley

  "Only once."

  "You're not a peer of the realm?"

  "Depends which way the wind blows."

  "That makes no sense. A man either is or isn't a lord."

  "If you insist. Age," he pondered, studying her. "Twenty-two."

  "Pure flattery. I'm twenty-six." She considered him. "Thirty." She needed to know more about him. All about him.

  "You heap years upon my head."

  "Then you've led a hard life," she said, realizing that could explain his muscles.

  "If by hard you mean unpleasant, no. If you mean adventures and hard work, then yes at times."

  "That sounds wonderful."

  "Adventures and hard work?"

  Her words had surprised herself. "If not too unpleasant."

  He laughed. "Confess, you're a house cat best suited to the fireside."

  "Sadly true."

  "Can I make you purr?" He reached out to stroke her hair, from the crown of her head down her back.

  She shivered. "Don't."

  He stopped, but moved his hand to her nape, over her hair. "Why so sad, Lucilla? Are you trapped in conformity yet longing for adventure?"

  She couldn't explain her tangled emotions even if she were willing to try, especially with his warm hand resting there. Had she ever been touched there before? Never, ever like this.

  "How can I know?" she said, leaning back against that strong hand. "This is as close to adventure as I've ever come. Paltry, aren't I?"

  "No." He drew her head to his and kissed her lightly. "But perhaps it's time to end the adventure and get you home."

  "Yes." But that was duty speaking. In truth, she wanted this to go on forever. "Having ventured this far, perhaps I should discover more inexplicable things to remember?"

  As if summoned by a wish, glimmers of light brightened on leaves and branches and the music grew louder.

  "It's a trick," she said.

  "Trick?"

  "Some clever lights and odd musical instruments, as in a theater. I grant, it's very well done."

  He shook his head. "I thought you wanted the inexplicable to remember."

  "I can't believe in the Fae. That would make me mad. What am I to think of you? That you're Oberon?"

  He covered her mouth. "Shhhhh!" Then he released her but muttered, "That was unfortunate."

  "On the contrary," said a rich, mellow voice.

  Sarah turned to see a man against a backdrop of odd creatures. Or not exactly a man.

  He could be said to be dressed in shirt and pantaloons, but his shoes glittered gold, and his open-necked shirt had to be made of finest silk. It was cut far more fully than fashion dictated and the cuffs frothed lace in a style decades out of date. His long dark hair framed a pale face of unnatural beauty, and his court of creatures large and small, all had a disturbing beauty of their own.

  "Oberon?" she said again, and he smiled.

  "Summoned by your word, fair lady."

  Smile and pleasant tone didn't reassure. Here was danger.

  Sarah slid a look toward her escort whilst trying not to take her gaze off the dark Lord of Faery.

  Just grimaced. "Your use of his name permitted him to come here. I never thought to warn you."

  "There are always rules. I should have remembered that. What happens now?"

  There were so many stories about humans and the Fae, few of them good. Was she now captive of the faery lord? Or trapped in the faery realm forever? It seemed ridiculous, but faced by this potent creature of another realm, she knew she wasn't dreaming. He was real, he was powerful, and he was completely without human sensitivities.

  "I don't know," Just said, "but we also have the Lady to worry about."

  There was no time to ask more.

  With a lightning-bolt sizzle and a wind that rattled branches a new creature arrived, a vision in white and light, surrounded by a court, earth-bound and winged, all in a storm of agitation.

  "Who?" demanded the ethereal beauty, whose golden hair was wound into a bejeweled crown yet still flowed like a river to the ground. "Who spoke hisssssss name?"

  Without a doubt, she hissed.

  Sarah felt like a terrified child when she whispered, "I did."

  Just surged to his feet and fell to his knees before Titania, Lady of Faery, ruler of this night. "Have pity, great lady. She is ignorant of your ways."

  "Then why isssss sssssshe here?"

  "I brought her here. The blame is mine."

  Sarah couldn't believe his courage.

  Titania grasped his chin in long, pale fingers -- long, pale fingers tipped with long, pointed nails. "I know you. You are Maberley." After a moment she added, "Jussstinian Maberley. You paid homage here when young, but then ceasssed."

  "I'm the last of the Maberleys, great lady, so perhaps you shouldn't destroy me."

  His tone was boldly teasing, and the Lady's lips curled in a smile, but her diamond eyes were cold. "No? You abandoned your dutiesss and allowed ssstrangerssss here."

  "Not by my will. I was young when my father died and Maberley Hall was sold. I was taken away. Tonight, I have returned."

  Justinian Maberley, from the family who had once owned these lands. He'd said he'd played here as a boy.

  "How long ago was thiss?" The hiss was slighter now and the wind had settled to a breeze. Sarah hoped this was a good sign. She glanced at the faery lord and found him perfectly still and observant.

  Ill met by moonlight....

  Were these two always at odds?

  "Fifteen years, great lady."

  "A moment. The new lord has no roots here. We can be rid of him."

  Casual threat ran cold through the words. Sarah had no doubt that Titania could rid the area of the Stoneycrofts at her whim.

  Just Maberley spoke calmly. "He and his lady respect the old ways, Lady, and the people serve you still, as you serve them."

  It hung in the balance, but then Titania released him. "So they do. It has been a good night. Until now." She turned to Oberon.

  He smiled. "You can't forbid me. By our laws, I am allowed to be here."

  "I know it," Titania said, but in a new tone. She was watching him with the sort of intent gaze a cat might fix on a mouse. Except that her lord was no mouse and his expression was much the same.

  Faery lord and faery lady moved together with such smoothness Sarah wasn't sure feet were involved. They circled one another, gazes locked, much like a minuet-a-deux, and their courts circled with them in a spiral of luminescence and sparkling dark. The music built in a never-ending, ever-rising chord.

  Sarah's hand was grasped and she found Just Maberley was back at her side.

  "What's happening?" she whispered on the faintest breath.

  "I don't know," he replied in the same way. "But I think we've escaped."

  "Shall we crown this night?" Oberon asked of his lady.

  "We shall, and make all nature sing."

  The music sank and they began to unwind, their courts flowing outward until lord and lady stood alone, hand in high-held hand. Their smiles held some true warmth now, but Sarah was sure there was as much cold power behind the smiling faces as before.

  Then the Lady laughed, and it was in truth musical laughter. Lights blossomed all around as if fireworks had exploded from branch tips. Fairy instruments played merrily as the Lord and Lady danced from the grove together, courts in train behind.

  At the last moment, Titania turned and looked at Sarah, eyes bright and unfathomable. Sarah's gut tightened with fear. She wasn't to escape after all. With a wave of her hand Titania sent new sparkles toward her and then she danced on her way.

  Sarah expected pain, or at least stings, but she felt nothing. "What was that?" she asked from a dry throat.

  "I rather think you've been faery-blessed."

  "Is that a good thing?"

  "It all depends."

  Sarah put her hands to her face. "I don't believe that. I don't believe any of it. But it was true."

  "Yes.
"

  "And you," she said, lowering her hands to look at him. "You're some sort of hereditary faery something-or-other?"

  "Guardian is probably the best term. The modern world doesn't blend well with Faerie so it long ago retreated to certain places that are preserved in ways they like. It's all to do with the energy of the earth, as best any human knows, and certain plants that grow from that energy, as well as human actions that preserve the places in order for Faery to survive. The ancestral lords of these estates have faery protection and in turn ensure that the land and customs are preserved."

  "Yet your family lost the estate."

  He shrugged. "I assume enough absence, drink and depravity can do it."

  "You're not like that."

  "I didn't inherit the taste for it and my grandfather and father died before they could impose it. I was raised by my maternal uncle -- a dull but worthy man."

  She considered him, so carelessly tousled. "I'm not sure that stuck."

  He smiled that magical smile. "No, but perhaps the alloy is good. Maberley wildness with Staumont stolidity."

  "Why are you here? To try to get your lands back?"

  "Not at all. I had reasons to visit England and I thought I should do my ancient duty and make sure all is well here."

  "To visit England?" she echoed, an ache of loss beginning.

  "I make my life in Canada now."

  An ocean away. She should be relieved by that. She would be. In time.

  "And if it all wasn't well here?" she asked.

  "I'd do my best to make it right."

  "What have you found?"

  "That the local people keep to the ways and no one tries to stop them. The Stoneycrofts don't seem the type to become guardians of Faerie, but they're respecting tradition. Who knows what might happen in a future generation? They're rich enough not to rip up the estate, especially the hill, in search of grim profit. It's possibly that Faery chose them, and if so Faery will continue their prosperity as long as it pleases them to do so."

  "Doesn't it bother you to be a piece on their game board?"

  "It's all I've ever known. When I came to the hill as a boy I'd meet people. I soon learned not to mention them. There were children and adults, all willing to teach me about the woods, both the practical knowledge of our world and the magical ways of Faery."

  "You must have hated to leave."

  "For years I longed to return, even when I understood that everything had been sold. But I was living in Cumberland, far, far away, and I've always been a practical man at heart."

  "He says, sitting in a faery grove still lit with Titania's fire."

  He smiled with her. "It's practical to accept what is." He moved forward and cradled her face. "I can't be practical about you, Lucilla. It's a grievous shame that you're married."

  It was. It was an agony beyond understanding.

  "Sarah," she said. "My name is Sarah."

  His smile understood. "When faced with Justinian, what else to do but be fanciful?"

  And he kissed her, exploring her mouth as if for the first time, with gentle warmth and tenderness. Only three fine layers of cloth lay between them, which was no protection at all, especially over her unguarded breasts.

  Her nipples grew tight and sensitive against his chest and extraordinary ripples of pleasure ran along her skin and deep inside. Shivering, she splayed her hands across his back, astonished by the firm vitality of his body and her hunger to know it more.

  Did she scramble to straddle him, or did he pull her there. Whichever, it was a magnificent position from which to learn him better, to press her aching emptiness against his hardness. So perfect a conjunction....

  Impossible.

  Ruinous.

  Yet she felt no urge to protest as he put his hand between them, touching her where she burned for him, where she was slick as if layered with cream.

  She made no protest when he fumbled with his breeches and freed himself, and pressed himself slowly into her. No protest at all, for the joining of their bodies was so perfect she felt she'd never experienced such a thing before.

  Like a virgin again, but without the pain and embarrassment.

  Eyes closed, she settled herself around his thick hardness, enjoying every part of the complex excitement deep within her. Hands on her hips he rocked her. She blinked open her eyes to look into his, knowing they mirrored her own astonished pleasure.

  He taught her how to move in this position, how to rise and fall as he rocked and thrust. Her head nestled against his neck and she nuzzled him there as her hands gripped his broad shoulders. Spicy perfumes overwhelmed her senses. The music seemed all around her, within and without her, driven by a drum-beat of passion that went on and unbearably on until it spun her up into the darkness like the firesparks she'd longed to be.

  Oh to be like this forever, but in time she came back to earth resting against him, shivering not with cold but with the reverberations of pleasure, a breeze causing chill on the damp of her neck.

  "I can see why couples run into the woods on Lady Day Eve."

  "I'm surprised they ever leave."

  And yet they did, as she and he must.

  In time.

  Chapter Four

  She eased away from him. "If only people could stay forever in faery lands."

  He drew her back for a gentle kiss. "I'm sure they can, but it wouldn't be a true life."

  "It might be worth it."

  "Our brief human lives are for living to the full."

  "To the full!" she cried, suddenly dropped back to cold reality and tears. "My life is empty."

  He moved them, and perhaps there was magic in it, for she found herself in his arms, supported against the mossy bank as she wept into his shoulder.

  "Tell me," he said. "Tell me about your life." She shook her head. But, "Tell me," he said. "I must know."

  She looked up at him. "There's nothing you can do, my Lady's Day man. I'm married, and I have no grounds for complaint. My husband is a good man and he's all I hoped for when I married him. It's not his fault I was a fool."

  He rubbed her back in a gentle, comforting circle. She'd never imagined a man might do such a thing. "It's not foolish to believe we love and then find later it wasn't true gold."

  "I didn't want gold. I wanted stability, reliability, security and safety. I have all those things. If I'd had children, all would be well."

  He studied her. "Would it?"

  She finally recognized the chasm before her feet. "Before tonight. Now it's ruined."

  "You wouldn't be here, Sarah, if all had been even close to well."

  She settled back against him so he wouldn't see the tears blurring her eyes. "Nothing can change."

  Arm strong and warm around her, he said, "I sail for Halifax in a few days. I have a business there with three partners. We deal in timber and other goods with more possibilities every day. I can't offer complete stability, but if you came with me I'd keep you safe and provide the comforts of life."

  He paused for some reaction, but she had none he wanted. He painted a picture of heaven, but one beyond iron gates of reality, responsibility and fear.

  "I can't run away, Just. I can't. I'm not that sort of woman."

  And yet, she thought, to a wild place? Who would care about propriety in the middle of a Canadian forest?

  "Do you worry about rough living?" he asked. "I live in Halifax. It's a handsome town and it's a military base as well as an administrative center, so there are ladies of your station and a full social calendar." He gathered her hand in his and raised it to kiss first the knuckles, then the palm. "Come with me?"

  Didn't he realize he'd shattered all hope.

  "I can't, Just. I'm married."

  "Is it a prison?"

  "Of course it is in the sense that I can't leave."

  "What stops you?"

  "The law. My husband's welfare. My friends and family. My reputation!"

  "Of course," he said, and it was almost a groan
. "I must have been faery-mad to even suggest it. You'd be miserable away from all you hold dear."

  Miserable? For a moment it had been a vision of bliss.

  Friends? All people suited to her husband's ambitions.

  Her family? A peevish sister and a selfish brother.

  Her reputation?

  Yes, her precious good name confined her, but it also made this impossible in other ways. If he could take her to some wilderness place she might find the courage to go. No one there need know. They could live as man and wife.

  But this Halifax, with ladies and gentlemen of her station and a full social calendar? The scandal of Lady Jardine would soon be known there and she'd be barred from all decent society. If she attempted to conceal her identity, sooner or later someone would arrive who recognized her. There were probably already people there whom she'd met in London.

  She'd be an outcast, and she'd hate that, but worse, he'd be ruined. What decent home would welcome him, yet so much business was done that way. What decent lady's husband would trade with him? She could only pray that this was a fleeting sort of magic and that tomorrow the agony would only be an ache.

  "I'm sorry," she said, gently moving out of his arms. "I wish I were the sort of grand romantic who'd run away for love, but I'm not. I'm sorry."

  He nodded and rose to his feet, helping her up. "Do you regret tonight?"

  She smiled for him, hoping the unshed tears didn't show in moonlight. "No and never. If I were free, Justinian Maberley, I would come with you."

  "Just Just," he said with a smile.

  "An old joke, I assume."

  "Very."

  They each straightened their own clothing, straightening themselves and their reality as they did so. Sarah felt as if the faery warmth was fading at the same pace, sending shivers through her.

  "What time is it?" she asked in sudden panic, studying the sky for a clue, but the fairy glow overwhelmed any evidence from there.

  Could it be morning?

  Could she have been missed?

  "Not very late," he said. "Come. Back to the mundane."

  He took her hand in a comfortable grip. Again a path lit before them, sloping downward toward the fire's glow.

  It seemed hardly steps before she was leaving the woods. The bonfire still burned high and people still reveled. It couldn't be very late and yet her whole world had changed. Was there such a thing as faery time?