[2015] Dance of the Minotaur

by TC Calligari

  “Who is it that can tell a man that he cannot lay with his wife?” He responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Deirdre placed a trail of kisses along his collarbone as Teirnan’s hands worked on her hair. He efficiently found the two pins that released the long braid that had been coiled at her nape. Leaving the braid intact, his hands now made their way to cup her breasts, which were covered only in the thin fabric of her pale white shift.

  Deirdre moaned and allowed her head to drop back as the kneading of his fingers eased the aching sensation of her tender breasts. Her mouth was reclaimed in one fell swoop by her lover, whose smile she could feel against her lips. When her hand dropped between them and laid claim to his erection, Teirnan laughed and pulled her fingers away.

  “Not yet.” His deep chuckle and quick kiss on her nose were a direct result of the pouty look that Deirdre had just shot his way.

  He leaned down and spread his kilt over the moss like a great mattress in the small space. Grabbing her hand, he guided her down to the soft surface where she knelt beside him.

  Deirdre pulled his longshirt over his head and quickly deposited the final layer of her own clothing on top of it. For a long moment their eyes roamed over each other’s bodies. The years had changed them both, filled out their frames and refined their muscles, yet everything had remained familiar. Teirnan’s finger traced the discolored pattern on her ribcage, the shape looking like a mere trick of the dim cave lighting.

  She remembered laughing at him years ago when Teirnan claimed that the mark was the exact color of his fur after a transformation, as if brown were an uncommon color. He had maintained that she had been born with his brand, making them destined for each other. Perhaps, Deirdre admitted to herself, his assumption had been right.

  His hand, at her waist, applied slight pressure as he encouraged her to lie back on the makeshift bed. The moss was soft and cool beneath the fabric, a sensation that had forever been branded in Deirdre’s memory.

  Teirnan leaned above her, pressing feather light kisses along her face and torso, but he did not join her. His meandering mouth trailed further and further away until she felt his hot breath ruffle the mound of curls between her legs.

  “Teirnan, no.” she began, but the words drifted off into a gasp as his mouth closed over her. Heat against heat and yet, somehow, the sensation left her chilled. His hands curled into her thighs and he shifted their bodies until he was perched between her knees.

  The words would not come to Deirdre’s mind. As Teirnan’s mouth worked over her and his hand kneaded the quivering muscles of her legs, Deirdre was unable to speak. For too long had she denied the call of her body to his. For too long suppressed every need and desire with hate and anger. Now, as the years of tension flowed from her body Deirdre could do little but cry out the name of the man that she loved. For, that was the truth, she had always, would always, love Teirnan Laramie. There had been no other, could be no other, which would affect her in such a powerful way.

  When Teirnan finally surfaced, Deirdre realized that it had been the result of her gasping his name, veritably begging him to join her. With a disarming half-grin Teirnan leveled his body over hers.

  “Are you sure that you don’t wish me to continue?” He teased, clearly enjoying the effect that he was having on her.

  “No,” She gasped as he shifted his hips to press himself against the entrance to her center. “And yes.” Her breath was ragged; unable to control her desires she wanted everything that he had to give. Deciding that he was getting too much enjoyment out of teasing her, Deirdre decided to turn the tables.

  She shifted her hips rhythmically against him, allowing his velvety-softness to press against her, but denying entry at the final moment. His arm slipped beneath her hips as he tried to hold her steady, groaning and releasing his hold when she refused to be restrained.

  “You’re a devil, woman.” His forehead dropped against her shoulder as he suffered through her exquisite torture. “What gives you your power over me?” The words were spoken so softly that Deirdre almost did not hear them. She pushed them from hear mind in the heat of the moment, but for one instant she pondered the frustration and agony of his words. As if Teirnan had likewise struggled to stay away.

  Her hesitation was enough to cease her movements against him. Teirnan took the opportunity to reassert himself above her, bringing his mouth back to hers and increasing the pressure between their bodies. He eased inside of her with what can only be described as a slow urgency.

  Deirdre arched against him and cried out as their bodies fully joined. It was as if, in that moment, both their bodies and their souls were complete.

  There was no need for words or guiding nudges. Their bodies remembered each other and moved accordingly. As if guided by some unspeakable force, they responded with the confidence that only true lovers can share. There could be no second thoughts, no fear or shy responses, only pure and unbridled passion. Only the culmination of everything that their marriage was meant to be, all those years ago.

  Afterward, Deirdre lay in the cocoon of Teirnan’s embrace. Her body yearned to give in to the temptation of blissful sleep, yet her mind stubbornly refused to cease the cyclical replay of the most recent events.

  The images were torn between the ecstasy of their long-awaited joining, the release of the building tensions between them, and a paralyzing panic over the fact that she have given herself so completely to their lovemaking, despite the traumas of the past. Despite the fact that Teirnan was the one person that she had sworn herself to loathe for all eternity.

  Teirnan’s fingertips traced an unending pattern up and down the length of her spine. He was quiet, very quiet, and she wondered what exactly it was that he was thinking about.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “It could have been like this…” His voice, introspective and also filled with incredible pain, struck her. “All of these years. It should have never ended.”

  He released a deep sigh.

  “What a waste.”

  Deirdre held still, blinking in her confusion as she stared into his powerful chest.

  “I couldn’t go on like that.” She whispered. Did he honestly think she would be satisfied as one of his many women? Had not her father even said that there were many a lass who wished to be his match? Her heart pounded in her chest. Was she, even now, just one of many?

  “We wouldn’t have gone on in secret.” He said, misunderstanding her statement. “We could have been married years ago. Happily, instead of how it has been.”

  Deirdre leaned back and looked at him with a serious expression. “I wouldn’t have been happy, Teirnan. Even now, I don’t think I could stand it.”

  Teirnan’s eyebrows drew together and Deirdre swore she could feel the pain radiating from his eyes.

  “Why?” he demanded. In one swift motion, Teirnan thrust himself away from her and rose to begin dressing with an urgency that shocked her. “What do other men have that I don’t?”

  He turned toward her and pierced her with an angry look. Deirdre moved from the kilt spread on the ground and began dressing herself. Teirnan ripped it from the cave floor and began the intricate process of wrapping it around his waist.

  Deidre could not think of a response, so she remained silent. Her mind raced at his meaning. What other men? There had been none other than Teirnan. Just because he was satisfied with a constant stream of partners did not mean that she was. Teirnan lacked nothing to make a woman happy, except the ability to be faithful to only one.

  “We could have been great.” He grumbled. “Even had children by now.” He finally finished dressing and moved to stand in front of Deirdre, who was determinedly lacing her corset as best she could. “How can you respond to me that way and then say that you wouldn’t have been happy?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly, forcing her to look at him.

  Deirdre jerked her shoulder from his hands and cast him a scathing look. “What lass would be happy as a bead on her
lover’s string of women?” She spat. She hurriedly gathered the remaining pieces of garments in her arms, deciding that she would rather dress in the quiet of the forest than spend another moment in the cave with Teirnan.

  As she moved to brush past him, Teirnan grasped her arm, forcing her to halt.

  “What are you talking about?” his voice was low and dangerous sounding but it only made Deirdre more angry.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” She tried to pull away but he held firm.

  “Find out what?” he demanded.

  “Honestly, Teirnan,” she rolled her eyes. “For a lad as intelligent as you, one would think you’d find a different meeting place for each of your lovers.” She watched his eyes widen with shock and a sickening satisfaction drifted over her as, for the first time, she revealed that she had not been as naïve and love-struck as he had assumed. “At the very least, I’d have thought you wouldn’t have made the mistake of telling two of us to meet you on the same afternoon.”

  Teirnan’s hand dropped away at her condescending tone.

  “What are you talking about?” he whispered.

  “Oh, quit lying about it.” Deirdre felt her blood boil. When was he going to realize that the game was up? “It would be one thing if I had only heard a simple rumor, but the proof is undeniable. I met Elaine McLeary right here in this cave as she waited for you, half naked and laughing that I was so daft as to think I was your only.”

  Teirnan stared at her in awe-struck silence and she felt the certainty of her claims.

  “Did you honestly think,” she took a step closer and narrowed her eyes as she drove her angry words deeper and deeper into his heart. “that I could have, that I would ever, be happy with such a scoundrel for a husband?”

  She watched Teirnan’s shoulders begin to quiver, though he remained silent.

  “I respond to you so strongly because you are all I have ever known,” His eyes bore into her as if searching for some unknown answer. “Because at one time I loved you, and because you are right… we could have been great.” She pushed one condemnatory finger into his chest. “But, let me tell you this Teirnan Laramie. I may be your wife but I am no longer blind. You may think that you can always get what you want, but I promise you… you will never, ever, have my heart again.”

  As she drove her final words home, Deirdre felt a sense of fulfillment that she had finally confronted Teirnan about the truth. Too long had the secret hung between them. Too long had she been able to speak her mind to everyone but this man. Too long had she feared the crushing agony of saying the words aloud. Now, years later, she was glad that she finally had the courage to confront him.

  Awaiting his reply, his denial most likely, Deirdre stepped back and pursed her lips. What she had been expecting was a continuation of their heated debate. Instead, Teirnan broke his gaze away from her face and concentrated his complete attention on the floor between their feet, as if mentally assembling a complicated puzzle. After what seemed like an age he drew himself up to his full height and returned his eyes to her defiant face.

  “So this is what you think of me?” he spoke with measured words.

  “Yes.” She nodded, her voice no more than a whisper and with less confidence than it had possessed a moment before.

  “So be it.” He growled, and with a great lunge, he burst from the cave and into the bright afternoon light. His body transformed in midair from the magnificent musculature of his human form, to the plush frame of an agitated bear. His brown fur stood on end as his kilt and shirt lay in shreds beneath his lethal looking paws.

  With one long glance back at the cave, Teirnan let out a voracious roar before bolting into the depths of the forest.

  For three days he did not return. On the fourth, Deirdre shut herself in their chambers with the hope that everyone would stop asking her where he had went or when he would return.

  That truth was, she was not certain that he would return at all.

  She had kept a reassuring facial expression plastered on for far too long but the effort was wearing on her.

  What reason had he to abandon her? She asked herself this question many times as she paced along the floor of their chambers. Should not she be the one angry with him? He had no reasons against her; she had done him no wrong.

  The strangest thing was the Deirdre did not feel angry with him. It was as if by voicing the accusation, she had released the anger from her heart. That, coupled with their lovemaking, made it difficult for her to maintain her previous stance. She may not have forgiven him for the past, but she had lain with him willingly and he was not to blame for that.

  Hours later she tried to convince herself to rest, but fear of sleep kept her retracing her steps along the rug. Each night her mind had been plagued with the final image of his face before he had transformed. Such anguish. Such pain as she had never before seen across his features.

  Was it regret? She wondered. No, this had been different. This had been raw understanding, raw agony, but Deirdre still did not understand why.

  There was a soft knock at the door and Deirdre turned her back to the wooden frame. She was not hungry. She did not want the fire stoked, or a tonic made. The door clicked open behind her and, after a sort silence, closed again. Good, she thought, the servants were realizing that she wanted to be left alone.

  “Deirdre.” The smooth male voice beckoned from the far side of the room.

  Her eyes squeezed shut and she took a deep-breathed attempt at composure. When she felt herself properly gathered, she turned to face him but moved no further.

  “Husband.” Her acknowledgement of his presence was cold and efficient. The reality was that she could not bring herself to speak his name, the word too personal and indicative of their lovemaking.

  “We need to speak.” He took a step forward.

  “Yes. I suppose we must.” Deirdre had prepared herself for this moment. The inevitable conversation about how they were to function their marriage with as little unnecessary contact as possible. It was not uncommon, especially in arranged marriages. Deirdre even knew of a woman who had entirely separate champers from her husband, the pair never crossing paths except for the necessary creation of children.

  Teirnan gestured for her to join him on the cushioned bench, where he now resided. She bridged the gap by choosing the chair facing him, but maintained her distance.

  With a deep sigh he leaned toward her, placing his elbows atop his knees and clasping his hands in thought.

  “I have a very serious question for you, Deirdre, and all I ask is that you answer it honestly, despite your current opinions.”

  She watched him with narrowed eyes.

  “And if I choose not to answer?” she bartered.

  “You must.” When he sensed her reaction to his demand, he softened his tone and repeated, “Please, but you must. A ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ is all it will take. I promise you that.”

  “Alright then.” She conceded with clear reservations.

  “Deirdre,” he scooted forward on his seat, inching closer to where she sat just outside of his reach. “Before, when we were truly happy… before anything with Elaine, at the end of the summer if I had asked you to marry me would you have agreed? Would you have been happy as my wife?”

  “You can’t hypothesize as if things were different.” She stood in frustration at his silly questioning. He mirrored her movement and there they remained toe to toe. “At some point I would have found out anyways. It doesn’t matter when or how, if we were married or not, the result would be the same. I cannot pretend as if it isn’t so.”

  Teirnan’s hands settled on her shoulders and he waited for her to stop her tirade.

  “Answer the question, Deirdre.” His eyes bore into her own. “Would you have married me happily all those years ago? Did you love me that much or was it just a summer to you?”

  Deirdre’s brow furrowed in shock.

  “What kind of question is that?” she demanded. She would have thou
ght the answer obvious.

  He released her and stepped toward the fireplace, his back toward her. “Answer it.”

  For a long while she stared at his back, wishing that she could see his face. Images of that fateful summer flashed through her mind. Had it been real for her or just a childish romance? The memories had become so tainted with anger that it took a moment for her to sort out an answer that was undeniably true.

  “Yes, I would have married you.” She whispered. “And yes, I would have been happy in it.”

  His head dipped low as she spoke. With a deep breath he drew himself up, squared his shoulders, and turned to face her once more.

  “Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward the chair she had just vacated and without further ado, left the room.

  Deirdre slumped into the chair with utter confusion. What had that all been about? Why had he asked her to sit and the proceeded to leave the room? Where had he been all of these days only to return with silly, impossible questions?

  After a few minutes, Deirdre was about to abandon her seat when the door opened again and Teirnan entered followed by a young female with her head hung low. Deirdre recognized her immediately as none other than Elaine, the scullery maid who had been found waiting in the isolated cave.

  Deirdre stiffened and moved to rise from her chair when Teirnan wordlessly motioned for her to remain seated.

  Elaine, sobbing with soft hiccups, was directed to the bench where she crumpled into a miserable heap.

  Teirnan passed the maid a handkerchief and allowed her a moment to collect herself before moving over to the fireplace and leaning against the mantle.

  “Tell her.” He commanded.

  The women sat facing each other, neither willing to meet the other’s eyes. The air was tense and filled with anxiety. Elaine was clearly here against her will, and Deirdre wanted nothing more than to be free of both of the individuals who currently shared her chamber.

  Elaine blew her nose into the handkerchief before she began.

  “Lady Deirdre,” her voice quivered. “I came to ask forgiveness and pardon for…”