[2015] Dance of the Minotaur

by TC Calligari

  She shook her head and leaned her forehead against his chest, using the action to hide her face from the observant man.

  “I suppose that business is your own.”

  She stepped away from her father and began to exit the room. There was nothing else that she could think to say and, though she could tell that her father hated to upset her it was clear that he had made up his mind.

  When her hand rested on the knob she spoke one last question, directing it at the wall before her.

  “Does he know?” she asked.

  “His father informed him before his death.” Came the quiet response from the far side of the room.

  Without another glance Deirdre exited the room. With a heavy heart she retreated to her chambers, excusing herself from supper and the night’s activities by claiming the need to pack her belongings. By the time she had unceremoniously dumped her entire life into the travelling trunks she had nothing left to occupy the night but to lay in bed until her tears gave way to sleep.

  ___

  Deirdre barely said two words during the journey. Upon arrival at the estate she allowed Teirnan to hand her down from the carriage and then resolutely avoided him for the duration of the funeral activities. This was no mean task because her best source of distraction was to actively comfort Skye on the loss of her father. Unfortunately, the close-knit siblings were rarely found out of each other’s company.

  Teirnan seemed to have taken immediate note of Deirdre’s intentions because he obliged by refraining from any direct conversations or interactions with his future bride. They were seated beside each other, as was expected of the betrothed pair, but busied themselves with their surrounding company. Thankfully, this behavior was easily excusable as respect for the funeral rites and mournful atmosphere. Even Aiden and Skye refrained from open displays of affection other than the occasional hand of support between husband and wife.

  Her brother tried, only once, to address his sympathy for her predicament, knowing full well of the icy tension that had existed between his closest friend and sister for many years now. Aiden also had the unique perspective of knowing that his own wife had very nearly been forced into an arranged marriage of her own. Deirdre’s response had been short and specific. She did not now, nor would she ever, care to discuss her relationship with the man to whom she would be bound for the rest of her life.

  Despite disliking the man so completely, Deirdre could not deny that she was pleased that Teirnan had been respectful enough not to share their history with her brother, even after nearly seven years. It was prosaic that the man to whom she had given her maidenhood, was now to be the husband who should have received it on their wedding night. She shoved the thought from her mind. Her past with Teirnan was a memory that she absolutely refused to revisit or repeat.

  A week later, she stood beside Teirnan as he made his pledge of fealty to the Clan MacConaill. He repeated the words, to be witnessed by her brother, before joining Deirdre in the recital of their vows.

  She felt numb through the entire ceremony. Even after the feast and celebrations Deirdre could barely remember the words she had said. She had tried to appear happy but knew that the observant eye could see that she had withdrawn into herself and merely playacted the role of happy bride.

  When the chorus of cheers rose to a deafening pitch, she allowed herself to be ushered out of the hall, swept into the arms of her husband, and carried off into the chambers of the Laird for the consummation of their vows.

  She was tired. More than just exhausted, weary. With a sigh she allowed Teirnan to carry her over the threshold. For the first time that night she allowed the plastered smile to slip from her face. As he closed the door behind them she could still hear the pounding and catcalls from the floor below.

  Teirnan placed her feet gently on the floor and moved to stoke the roaring fire. The act was little more than a distraction as the servants had already ensured that their every need had been met.

  “May I help you with the laces on your gown?” Teirnan’s voice was deep and soft.

  Deirdre blinked. Realizing that at some point he had abandoned the fire and come to stand behind her. She swept her braid over her shoulder and bowed her head, allowing him access to the laces that spanned the entire length of her spine.

  As his hands began to work with expert precision against the rope a series of images began to flash across Deirdre’s mind. Teirnan, completing the same action with shaking hands on the summer that Deirdre had traveled to the estate without her brothers. Waiting for Skye to disappear for her daily hunting excursion and slipping away to meet her devastatingly handsome brother in secret, in a small cave known only to the pair. Feigning disinterest in her lover whenever there were watchful eyes, yet being filled with a glowing anticipation for their next encounter. Stolen moments and quiet whispers professing their love for one another, before everything went wrong. That summer Deirdre had dreamt of nothing more than her own wedding night with the man she now called husband. Tonight, she could not think of any place that she would not rather be.

  The final lace slipped from the dress and Deirdre allowed it to pool at her feet, leaving her only in the plain white shift that lay beneath. She stepped forward and heard Teirnan pick up the gown from the floor and place it on a chair in the corner.

  “Your hair?” he asked.

  She sank down into the bench in front of the dressing table. She kept her eyes lowered to her own brushes and combs that had been set out, refusing to glance into the mirror to see the man behind her.

  With gentle fingers he removed the white flowers that adorned her raven hair and set them on the table. He located the pins by combing his fingers through the locks until her hair fell in waves down her back.

  She felt, more than heard him step away and begin readying himself for the night. Without bothering to brush her hair, she wove it into a simple braid and slipped between the layers of the bed. Teirnan had always preferred her hair loose down her back. The braid, easily excusable as convenient maintenance, was a small rebellion on her part.

  She shifted between the linens until she reached the far side of the bed and rolled to face the wall. With slow and steady breaths she mentally prepared herself for what was to come, knowing full well that the guests below would expect nothing less than immediate consummation.

  The room darkened significantly as Teirnan blew out the tapers that filled the room. Lit only by the fire on the far side of the room, she felt the mattress shift as he joined her beneath the covers.

  Deirdre waited anxiously for Teirnan to initiate physical contact. She stared at the wall beside her and prayed that she could disappear into it rather than face the man in her bed. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours as she agonized over the idea of Teirnan seeing or touching her naked body. The thought was laughable because he was the only man who already had an intimate knowledge of her person.

  It was not until the last glow of ember flickered into blackness that Deirdre realized that the steady cadence that she had been unconsciously timing her own breath along with, was the deep rhythm of Teirnan as he slept.

  The following morning Deirdre awoke in a cocoon of warmth with a gentle summer breeze floating through the window, ruffling her hair. She sighed burrowed closer to the warmth thinking that if she kept her eyes closed long enough she might be able to slip back into her pleasant dreams.

  She shifted her legs and her knee grazed against something hard. With a jolt her eyes opened and she realized that her face was pressed against the hard muscle of a masculine chest. There she lay for a long moment, wrapped in warmth and the fresh, but earthy, scent that was unique to the bear-men, her cheek resting on his shoulder and his arms completely encircling her body. There was no breeze at the window, only his breath as it brushed against the hairs at the top of her head. Memories rushed into her brain causing her to leap away from Teirnan’s sleeping body. The sudden movement woke him with a start and his head made a resounding thud against the head
board.

  Deirdre clapped a hand over her mouth and she scooted with wide eyes back to her own side of the mattress.

  She watched in silence as Teirnan cursed and rolled out of the bed, rubbing the back of his head as he stumbled toward the water basin. Deirdre noted that he was wearing only the thin white covering of his longshirt. For an instant, before she forced the thought from her mind, she felt the distinct longing to know if everything that lay beneath it was just as she remembered. He splashed the cold liquid over his face before turning to encounter Deirdre’s guilty expression.

  If she had expected a look of anger or frustration, she had been wrong. Instead, Teirnan turned to her with resignation and, if she was reading his face correctly, disappointment. For a moment, he looked as if he were considering something but then he shook his head and grabbed his kilt from where it hung on the wall to begin dressing.

  Deirdre rarely found herself at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. Her head warred with her heart in a way that she thought she had learned to control many years ago. Despite her opinion of the man she could not deny that a small part of her had been pleased to, once more, find herself wrapped in his embrace.

  With firm resolution to suppress that feminine longing, Deirdre slipped from the bed and began her own tedious morning rituals. After she donned a pale blue gown, and had pinned her hair into a loose knot at the base of her neck, Deirdre moved to stand next to her husband, where he waited by the door. Offering his arm, she hesitated before placing her hand against his sleeve. Together, they made their way down to the great hall where they were greeted by an outpouring of cheers and well wishes. Deirdre scanned the crowd for her brother and his wife before she remembered that Aiden and Skye had departed in the early morning hours. It occurred to her, as she counted the few recognizable faces, that she was effectively a stranger in her own home.

  The meal was pleasant enough until there began the inevitable series of lewd jokes about their supposed wedding night activities. Deirdre shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the teasing turned toward the lack of proof that the couple had actively consummated their vows. Knowing the shame that could follow a man who failed to bed his bride, for the first time Deirdre felt guilty at her cold-shouldered approach to their marriage. Not, she reminded herself, that she would have done anything differently. Only, that she wished the pressing men were not so observant or persistent.

  “Your sister and the Lady’s brother were hard pressed to wait for the celebration to be complete before running off to their own wedding chamber.” One red-bearded man laughed. “If I were a betting man, and I am, I’d say the silence in your chambers was quite telling.” He winked in a way that made Deirdre wonder if the statement was made in fun, or as a threat.

  “You can pay me my winnings in a few months when you can see the proof otherwise.” Teirnan laughed convincingly as if he thought the entire conversation a lark.

  Deirdre wondered how Teirnan would explain it when the months passed and she remained without child. A brief image of a bairn with raven black hair and Teirnan’s deep blue eyes flashed in the back of her mind. Deirdre had often longed for a child of her own, especially after seeing Greum and Cat with their happy brood. She wondered if she could bring herself to lay with her husband for the sake of a child, but she doubted that the emotional turmoil of their joining would be something that she could willingly experience again.

  She must have been distracted in her musings because she was startled to hear an old woman speak from the crowd.

  “We can settle this now.” The crone spoke. “I served as handmaid in the lady’s preparations for the ceremony.”

  Deirdre squinted at the woman seated three tables away. She had no recollection of the woman, or even of her bridal preparations. She had a vague memory of bathing the previous morning but other than that a majority of the wedding day was a hazy blackness in her memory.

  “Where, Laird Teirnan, is there a distinctive mark on her body and what does its shape appear to be?”

  Deirdre’s mind searched for an excuse… the darkness of the room? The coverage of the linens? The shy nature of a virgin bride?

  Before she could formulate and answer, Teirnan’s hand came to rest on her ribcage, just below her left breast.

  “It lay here,” He stated matter-of-factly, “and its shape is that of the head of a bear.”

  Her eyes jumped to his, shocked that he had such an accurate memory of her body. For a long moment they stared at each other, oblivious to the watching crowd. She could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of her gown and was thankful that the blush she could feel covering her skin would be interpreted only as a shy reaction to the intimate knowledge.

  Each breath she took pressed her body against his palm. Deirdre’s heart drummed with a deafening rhythm in her ears. Still, Teirnan removed neither his hand nor his gaze.

  “Yes. Yes.” The woman clapped with joy as the crowd hummed excitedly around her. “She has the mark of the bear like her mother before her! Her sons will be worthy of legend and her daughters give birth to the fiercest of warriors. Let us drink to the present and future bonnet lairds Laramie.”

  With that the crowd returned happily to their meals. For the briefest moment Deirdre thought that she felt Teirnan’s thumb brush back and forth against her rib but the touch was so fleeting that when he withdrew his hand she thought that it might have been imagined.

  For the following fortnight, Deirdre and Teirnan both adhered to the unspoken agreement to stay as far away from each other as possible, except at meals when they playacted a happy couple. This was easier than expected because Teirnan found himself extremely busy with his newly acquired management of the estate.

  Every tenant, farmer, and banner man called upon the estate to greet their new laird. While Teirnan was busy with formalities, Deirdre spent her time acquainting herself with the daily duties as mistress of the household.

  She was relieved to see, upon her inspection of the serving maids, that a particular scullery maid from her previous visits was no longer employed on premises.

  Deirdre could not have said how she might have reacted to the girl who had been the cause of the feud between she and Teirnan, but was glad that the issue was now irrelevant.

  She recalled sneaking away to meet with Teirnan at their secret cave on the far edge of the estate only to find the fire-haired scullery maid sitting inside waiting for the same boy to visit. The maid had laughed at Deirdre’s naiveté, her assumption that she had been Teirnan’s only love. Assuring her that there were a handful of girls who visited the cave regularly, Deirdre had run from the location in tears and demanded that she return to Castle MacConaill the following day.

  The most agonizing part of the tale was that there had been no attempt to speak of the indiscretions between the pair. The following morning, Teirnan had entered the great hall with steely eyes and anger of his own. He had made a vague comment about being glad that she was leaving before storming from the hall, much to the shock of his family. From that moment on they had been the fiercest of enemies, and now they were husband and wife.

  On one cool, grey highland morning they received news that a small farmhouse on the edge of the lands had caught fire in the night, leaving a family of seven without a roof over their heads. Teirnan and his men began to prepare their horses for the journey, taking all of the necessary tools and goods to rebuild the home.

  For the first time Deirdre ran to her husband and laid a hand on his arm, meeting his eyes and forcing him to look at her.

  “Let me go.” She implored. “Please, Teirnan. Let me help the wife and bairns while you men build the house.”

  Teirnan gave her a wary look but did not respond immediately. No other women would be travelling with them and it was clear that he was not keen on the idea of her addition to the party.

  “I’ve been through the items. We have more blankets and linens than we will ever need. There are enough buckets and washrags to r
un ten households, and they won’t need much at all. Please, Teirnan.” She pulled both of his hands into her own and clutched them to her heart. “Please. At the castle I was in charge of taking care of the needy. Please let me go.”

  He must have heard the desperation in her voice, the need to help, and perhaps also to escape her own life if only for a short time.

  When he nodded she reached up and placed a happy kiss on his cheek. Before she had a chance to register his shocked expression she had turned around and raced inside to collect what she needed.

  The journey there was uneventful. Three day’s ride to the edge of the MacConaill lands was slow with the wagons full of building supplies and household items. The return journey would be much less tedious, taking just over half the amount of time as the first journey.

  At night, Teirnan, and the other men, took turns morphing into their bear forms and running patrols around the campsites. This left Deirdre to sleep alone amongst the linens in the central wagon. Though there had not been a repeat of their first morning together, Deirdre found herself struggling to sleep without her husband. She had become accustomed to the gentle rhythm of Teirnan’s breathing and, though they made an effort to never touch, had enjoyed the intense heat that radiated from his nearby body.

  The situation did not improve when they reached the small farm. Two large tents had been erected, one for the women and children, and one for the men. After three more nights being kicked and crawled over by four small children, Deirdre developed a slow appreciation for the simplicity of sharing a bed with only one person.

  The men worked tirelessly to rebuild the farmhouse and stable while Deirdre and the children rounded up what wandering animals they could find. She was grateful for the surplus of children that kept her occupied throughout the day and the many projects that she and their mother completed in preparation for the new home. On the rare moments of silence and inactivity she found her gaze drifting over to the hard working men, one in particular.