by Ann Gimpel
Breana clattered out of the dining room. When she returned, she held a dark amber bottle aloft. “Fifty year old brandy,” she announced proudly. “I was saving it for something special.” She pulled a pocketknife from a skirt pocket and scored the wax seal.
Sam rustled through the sideboard, found shot glasses, and poured everyone a drink. Once they’d been handed around, he raised his glass. “To a long and happy life.” Voices echoed his toast and everyone drank.
“So, brother.” Luke made his way to Sam’s side. “Will you do the honors?”
“It would be a privilege.” Sam grinned broadly and clapped Luke on the back.
“If you’re asking him to marry you,” Breana cut in, “I can do that. Actually, I’d love to. There’s a positive energy with the wedding ceremony that would go a long way toward healing my scars.”
Abigail glanced at Luke and saw him nod. She went to Breana, hugged her, and said “We’d like that.”
“Thank you.” Tears sparkled in Breana’s eyes. “You’ve just made me very happy.”
Abigail let go of Breana, but felt the other woman’s gaze on her. “I know what you’re going to ask,” she said, “and we can do that.”
Luke shook his head. “You lost me.”
Breana squared her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this, but if you could see your way to naming a daughter, assuming you have one, after Carolyn, it would mean a lot to me.” She inhaled raggedly. “In some small way, it would mean my girl will keep on living somewhere other than here.” She tapped her breast. “Carolyn wasn’t always wicked. And she wouldn’t have been at all, if Don hadn’t tempted her with unnatural power.”
It wasn’t the most delicate question, but Abigail asked anyway. “How come you never had other children?”
“I had a hard time,” Breana said. “Got torn up inside and Don didn’t want to chance losing me, even though our healers fixed the damage.” Her face twisted into a wry expression. “That was before he got seduced by the other side. After that, he’d have been glad enough to get rid of me, but by then the last thing we were talking about was having other babies.”
Abigail looked away, willing the woman a private moment in the midst of them. She gestured to Luke and the other men to help her carry dishes into the kitchen. By the time they’d cleared the table of the main course and brought in the apple pies, Breana had taken her place at the head of the table again.
“Is there coffee?” Luke asked.
Abigail nodded. “I have to grind the beans, but there’s hot water on the stove.”
“Strainer’s hanging on the wall,” Breana said.
Sam laughed heartily. “We can just pick the grounds out of our teeth. We are men, after all. Try to make us too civilized and I guarantee you won’t like the result.”
Chris slugged him in the arm. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Joshua just snorted.
After pie had been served, Abigail brought a steaming pot of very strong coffee to the table, along with the sugar bowl and a pitcher of cream. Breana clinked her fork against her cup. Amiable chatter quieted and she shifted her gaze from Abigail to Luke. “Are you certain you wish to marry?”
“Yes.” Luke bent toward Abigail and brushed his lips across her cheek.
“Yes for me too.” Abigail was shocked she could talk this time.
“Let me get the Tarot cards.” Breana planted her palms against the table top and rose. “I’ll cast a spread while we finish eating, and we can pick the most auspicious date.”
“If you really get a few weeks off,” Abigail turned to Luke, “we could go to San Francisco and visit Gran and Pop. She nagged me for years about my single status. She’ll be ever-so-pleased to meet you. Pop is old and ill. It’ll make him a joyful man to leave this world knowing I have someone who’ll love me as much as he loved Gran.”
Breana shoved a Tarot deck into her hands. Abigail shuffled and handed them to Luke to cut. Breanna took the deck and retreated to her seat.
Luke smiled. “It’s a long way across the country, but I was hoping you’d want to come back to the village where I grew up. I know we’ll have already been wed and blessed by the Coven, but I’d like Aethelred to consecrate our marriage too. And my sisters will want to see who finally snagged me.” He chortled. “They couldn’t have been any pushier than your gran about telling me I needed a wife.”
The gentle slap of cards against the table continued while they ate and talked. After a time, Breana glanced up, a broad smile wreathing her face. “You’re in luck. We’ll have us a wedding tomorrow at sunrise. After all, you wouldn’t want to keep living in sin if you don’t have to.”
“What?” Abigail inhaled and choked on a flake of piecrust. Luke clapped her on the back. When she could talk again, she sputtered, “I have nothing to wear and no time to sew anything.” Her face heated and she knew she was blushing. “Not that I’ve spent hours mooning over what kind of bride I’d be, but…”
“It’s you I want, not a dress,” Luke said softly.
“I think we can come up with something out of my trunks.” Breana gathered her cards together and tied a satin ribbon around them. “I brought a lot of things from New York that I realized were foolish once I saw just how primitive it is here.”
“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition,” Abigail murmured. “Like Luke says, it’s the words that will pass between us, and the goddess’s blessing, that are important, not what I’m wearing.”
“It would be good for someone to get a little more wear out of my fancy duds before the moths finish them off.” Breana rubbed her hands together, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Come with me, dear. We’ll make you the most luscious bride. So delectable, your groom will have a hell of a time not ravishing you before the ceremony’s over.”
Sam drained his coffee and got to his feet. He shot knowing glances at the other men. “We’re going to have us a bachelor party tonight.”
“Huzzah!” Joshua jumped up and grabbed his sheepskin coat off a hook near the door.
“We going into town?” Chris asked.
“You betcha.” Sam grinned.
“What if I don’t want to leave here?” Luke looked from one enforcer to the other.
“Rubbish.” Sam got up, came around the table, and dragged Luke to his feet. “This is your last night as a single man. Least you can do is get roaring drunk.”
“Come on, Abby. All this male talk is about to choke me.” Breana stood and headed into the kitchen.
Abigail stared after her. She opened her mouth to tell Luke he could drink all he wanted, but to keep his hands off the fancy women, but changed her mind. Part of the cement in any marriage was trust. If she couldn’t trust him to leave her side, she oughtn’t to be marrying him.
“Good call.” Luke’s voice rang in her head and he winked at her just before the other men swept him out of the house.
“Coming?” Breana called.
“Yup.” Abigail grinned. “I’ll bring the pie things back to the kitchen on my way.”
Chapter Thirteen
The December morning dawned cold, and clear. Luke woke to pale, gray light filtering into the barn, with the other men sleeping nearby. He’d wanted to hunt Abigail down the previous night, but the others hadn’t let him anywhere near her when they’d returned past three a.m., far more drunk than sober.
He had a headache and he could still taste the whiskey the boys had poured down him. They’d had a grand time playing cards and teasing the ladies of the night who’d offered to take him upstairs and show him the time of his life, once they realized he was getting married the next day. Luke had sent Sam, Joshua, and Chris in his stead. They’d stayed gone for the better part of an hour and returned with huge smiles and rouge smears on their faces.
He’d played poker and drank to while away the time. It had given him a chance to replay everything that happened and put it into perspective. Luke was used to having long hours alone in the saddle to process things, an
d there’d been precious little of that in quite a while. He’d just been marveling over his luck at finding Abigail when the three enforcers had tromped down the stairs raving about the fancy women and their prowess. After that, the conversation shifted to pleasantries and future plans. The ride home in moonlight had been invigorating and helped clear his head. Otherwise his headache would be far worse.
Luke thought about Abigail and smiled in the semi-gloom of the barn; joy was so close to the surface he was surprised it didn’t spill out in rainbow colors. Today was his wedding day. The thought galvanized him into action. He funneled magic to soothe his throbbing temples and got to his feet, brushing straw out of his hair and clothes. None of them had bothered to undress last night.
“Ergh. Morning already?” Joshua mumbled and groaned piteously.
“Not only is it morning,” Sam said brightly, “we have to get the groom ready.”
“And damned fast if the ceremony’s at dawn.” Chris lurched to his feet and frowned. “Any of you have something halfway clean our hero can wear?”
Sam snorted. “Real men don’t need clean clothes.” He got up too, and pulled Joshua upright, still groaning.
“I have clean leathers in my saddlebags,” Luke said. “First, though, I’m going to take a quick dip in the creek. I still smell like booze and cigars. Anybody want to join me?”
“Maybe if we make the water warm,” Joshua muttered.
“Coward.” Sam slugged him in the arm and led the way out of the barn and into the beginning of daybreak.
Breana was already fussing over a table she’d dragged down from the porch. “Ten minutes, boys,” she called over one shoulder.
“Crap!” Luke sprinted for the creek, loosening clothes as he went. He dropped them in an untidy heap, and was already up to his waist in water cold enough to make his teeth chatter, when the other enforcers jumped in.
“Christ! You’re a fucking masochist.” Sam squatted and sluiced water over his head.
“Now who’s the coward?” Luke pushed his long, wet hair out of his eyes and wrung water out of it. “Not so bad once you’re in here for a bit.”
“That’s because your circulation starts shutting down,” Joshua said, followed by, “Aw, what the hell,” as he dunked himself and came up sputtering.
Luke lumbered out of the creek. “No point in dressing twice,” he told the others. “If one of you could gather up my clothes and bring them into the barn, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure.” Sam joined him on the riverbank. The air around him thickened where he drew magic to dry himself.
Luke scooped up his boots and loped toward the barn. Breana whistled and clapped from her vantage point. “I can see why Abby’s so taken with you,” she called after him, followed by, “Wow! Impressive body.”
His face heated. Female witches were a randy bunch. It wasn’t that he’d totally steered clear of them during times like festivals when sex was always a given, but he preferred his dalliances private. Now that Abigail had hold of his heart, he was glad he’d been selective about the few partners he’d bedded. He could come to his true love with a clear conscience, knowing he’d never taken advantage of any woman, or engaged in the bawdier, group romps.
He rummaged in his saddlebags and drew out a pair of pale, buckskin leggings and a bright blue shirt, embellished with Native beadwork. He’d always loved the shirt, but had worn it very little, concerned he’d ruin it. Once he’d laced up his pants and shirt, he stepped into soft sheepskin moccasins he also kept in his saddlebags. He ran a comb through his hair and considered braiding it, but in the end he left it loose. Breana had said ten minutes, and it must be very nearly that now.
He strode from the barn and met the other enforcers on their way inside to leave the clothes he’d dropped next to the river, plus a few things of their own. “Meet you over there,” he said.
“We’ll be along.” Sam nodded.
“You bet. Wouldn’t miss any of this for the world.” Joshua cast a warm smile his way.
“Married,” Chris muttered and shook his wet, brown hair. “Never would have believed it.”
“Why not?” Luke spared a moment to meet Chris’ gaze.
He shrugged. “You always seemed so…standoffish and independent.”
“Maybe it’s because I never met the right woman before.” Luke grinned and hurried to where Breana stood.
She cocked her head to one side when he walked up to her, cast an appraising glance his way, and smiled softly. “You look very handsome, but just wait till you see your bride.”
Luke’s smile broadened. “I wanted to see her last night, but the boys weren’t having any of it.”
“Of course not.” She shook a finger at him in mock anger. “It’s bad luck to lay eyes on your bride right before the wedding.”
“Who came up with that stupid custom?” he muttered just as Sam, Chris, and Joshua joined them.
Breana shrugged. “Does it matter? Some things, we just take on faith.” She turned to face the east, where the sky was turning a pearlescent pink. “It’s time.”
Luke glanced expectantly at the front door of the house. It opened and Abigail stepped out. Chris trotted up the porch steps, joined her, and she took his arm. In a flash of understanding that thickened his throat with emotion, Luke knew Chris was going to stand in for Abigail’s absent father. Since neither of her parents were witches, and were long since dead, it was kind of him.
She and Chris strolled from the porch’s deep shadows and made their way toward the front steps. Luke’s eyes widened. Abigail was barefoot and swathed in a cream-colored lace top and long, shimmery white skirt. Her red hair fell in curls to her waist and someone had woven flowers into it. She met his gaze, hazel eyes uncertain. “It seemed like a little much—” she began.
“It’s not,” he cut in. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can scarcely believe you agreed to marry me.” Luke swallowed hard, overwhelmed by her loveliness.
“If she has a last minute change of heart,” Sam walked to his side, flanked by Joshua, “I’m sure one of us would be glad to fill in.”
“Nice try.” Abigail grinned. “But I’m spoken for.”
Breana glanced at Luke’s feet. “Take your shoes off. We draw our magic from Mother Earth. Both of you must be in contact with her so she can bless your union.”
Luke toed off his moccasins, grateful he hadn’t bothered with socks. He held out his hands for Abigail, but Breana batted them away and said, “Not yet.” She turned to face the east. Wisps of sunlight curled about the horizon as she began a Gaelic chant requesting that the four seasons and four directions bless him and Abigail. Breana asked who wished to see Abigail wed this day. Chris answered in Gaelic that he gave her into matrimony. Obviously familiar with the ceremony, Abigail let go of Chris and took a few steps to stand beside Luke.
His heart filled with elation and cracked wide open as he threaded his fingers through hers. His woman. She would be his forever. Time seemed to stand still. He promised to care for Abigail always, to love and cherish her. She promised the same, even promised to obey him, but he would never hold her to it. They’d be equals in all things.
The air about them took on a shimmery hue and he felt Breana wrap tendrils of magic around them. She pulled a knife from her skirts and took his right hand. The blade flashed and she cut an inch-long gash in the meaty part of his thumb, and then did the same to Abigail’s right hand. She pressed their cut flesh together, drew a strand of linen from a pocket and bound it around their joined hands, chanting all the while. Chris joined the Gaelic chant. After a brief hesitation, so did Joshua, and Sam.
Luke sent his magic into Abigail and felt hers enter him. Her power was different from his, more subtle, yet not any less potent. Breana straightened and unwound the bloodstained linen. “It is done,” she said and smiled softly. “Go ahead, kiss the bride.”
Luke bent toward Abigail, seeking the taste of her soft lips, when Breana sa
id, “Oops, one more thing.”
Luke glanced her way. “This better be good. She’s my wife now and you’re standing in the way of me kissing her.”
“Indeed she is,” Breana concurred and tapped his chest with her index finger. “You’re a mage, so you may not know all our customs. Witch marriages are forever. You’re bound with blood and magic.”
Luke cocked his head to one side. “Is that all? For a minute I thought you were going to tell me something I didn’t know.”
She nodded and pressed the bloodstained cloth into his hands. “Bury that deep and say a prayer over it. Now let’s get that kiss over with. I was up most of the night making a wedding breakfast. It’d be good to eat it before everything gets cold.”
Luke spun Abigail to face him and enclosed her in his arms. When he kissed her he was surprised the heavens didn’t open with a bevy of angels singing. He felt buoyant, ecstatic, on top of the world as she melted into his kiss and wrapped her arms around him. Clapping and cheering rose around them, but Luke almost didn’t hear it because he was so focused on the woman pressed against him. Her scent blended with the tiny flowers in her hair. He tangled his fingers in her locks and deepened their kiss, wanting to be just as close as he could be.
“Enough already,” Sam’s voice boomed. Hands settled around Luke’s arms and tugged on him.
Luke felt lightheaded, like he’d emerged from a dream. “What?” he sputtered. “We’re married now, I can kiss her all I want.”
“You have duties,” Sam informed him archly.
“Responsibilities,” Chris concurred. “There’s a spread of food inside and we’re all anxious to get in there and sample it. Breana’s a mighty good cook.”
“Why thank you.” She mock bowed. “Abby helped me. Once we decided what she’d wear, we settled down to cooking.”
Abigail wormed out of his arms, but latched a hand under his elbow. “Come on,” she urged. “I made the cake. Can’t wait for you to see it.”
“In a minute.” He made shooing motion with both hands. “The rest of you go on inside. I promise we’ll be along, but I want a private moment with my bride.” When he said the word bride, he nearly burst with delight.