But as Cara watched him silently from the shadows, she felt certain the Mother Goddess had fashioned this meeting and so, drawing a deep breath, she took a step forward, a brittle twig breaking under her foot revealing her presence. Despite his lingering glance, Cara averted her eyes, stepped onto the path and followed the maze. She focused on the sound of her leather slippers brushing over the soft earth. This was a sacred place, respected for private meditation, and with no talking permitted within the perimeters, she could not even ask his name.
The longer they walked, the more Cara sensed the powerful magic of the labyrinth and the festival, calling to her to listen to the whispers of her heart. Around the circle, passing close but not touching, they moved in silence. Cara chewed the corner of her lip, aware of her nakedness beneath her kirtle, where she’d not thought of it before. A delicious shiver slithered between her thighs as she swerved, following the path that led back to the center of the maze. It was odd, this dance she found herself in with a handsome stranger, yet it stirred her emotions, urging, demanding.
Her throat grew dry. Gooseflesh rose on her arms, and she found herself sneaking glances at him, only to find him doing the same. Her fingers fisted the fabric of her gown, holding up her hem so she could see the path. She quickened her steps, noting how he stumbled slightly when they met side by side on their separate walks. Her eyes were drawn to the tented hood of his brocs and she caught her breath, smacked with a powerful jolt of desire. Cara battled the war between it and her father’s insistence that a woman’s purity was her most precious gift and should not to be given to just anyone. In the distance, the sensual sound of the bodhran drum kept beat with the increasing thrum in her chest, seducing her, coaxing her to follow her desires.
Forbidden.
The word served more as an enticement than a warning. Cara scanned the area, the idea of being alone with him festering in her brain. Aware of the tension mounting between them, she felt her sensitive breasts tighten, responding in arousal to her thoughts. She wanted to embrace her first Beltane in the same manner she’d seen so many others do today, free of rules and restrictions, celebrating the earthly pleasures that life has to offer. She’d sampled the wine, the food, the entertainment, and now she wanted to take the next step, proving that she was no longer a child, but a grown woman.
She spied a small grove of fruit trees, and beyond, what appeared in the flickering light of the torches to be a shriveled up hedge with a wooden gate. Glancing over her shoulder, she lifted the hem of her gown again and hurried toward it, hoping the man would follow her. Whether prompted by the goddess Mother Earth, too much wine or her own desire, she was not afraid to lose her maidenhead. And who better to do so with than a complete stranger?
She pushed through the gate, letting her eyes adjust to the change from torchlight to the ghostly illumination of moonlight. She’d heard of the crumbled shell of a castle, with its lone tower, abandoned long ago by the Romans. The druid priests who later settled here had built a small stone gathering place and created the labyrinth for contemplation. The heavy wood gate slammed behind her and Cara clutched her gown, determined to follow through with her quest. She moved cautiously forward, noting that the once royal garden now showed very little signs of life within its walls, filled now with dry brambles and brush. Not allowing her brain to second-guess her desire, she searched for a perfect spot where they could be together, for the first time wondering if he was any more experienced in the ways of the flesh than she was.
She pressed forward and found herself in what had perhaps been a small courtyard. A stone fountain, set among some overgrown vegetation near the tower, stood as its focal point, embellished with the sculpture of two lovers entwined in an intimate embrace. Cara stopped at its base, staring at the man and woman, seeing the moon reflected in the water left from a recent rain. As she studied the woman’s face, the fragrance of roses seemed to waft in the air, and a chill ran up Cara’s arms. She hugged herself, wondering if she was mad to be flirting with something so dangerous. What if she’d imagined the fair-haired man’s interest, and even now he was off to find his friend? She bent down, dipping her hands in the cool water, splashing it against her heated cheeks. Perhaps he thought her foolish for running off as she had. Would he bother to try and find her? Cara closed her eyes, seeing him in her mind, wanting to taste those lips—just once. She lifted her arms over her head and gazed up the star-sprinkled night.
A gentle voice whispered on the breeze. I am the wind, softly caressing your hair, the breath near your ear. Whispering the words you long to hear.
Cara’s body surrendered to the sound of ancient music and she began to sway, lost in its seductive rhythm. She danced around the statue, celebrating the couple’s union, wishing for a lover of her own.
2
EDMUND SQUEEZED HIS EYES SHUT. THIS GIRL had done nothing to encourage these rebellious emotions, but had appeared innocently as angel and temptress both, causing him to break out in a feverish sweat. Reason bade him to turn and walk away, go find Gregory and head back to Dublin, none the wiser about how her lips might taste, how soft her skin might feel beneath his hands. What was happening to him? Was it some pagan magic luring him to sin, or the seedlings of his own wayward desires—prompted by Gregory’s insistence to enjoy himself before taking his vows?
The old monk’s words pervaded his thoughts: If it is truth you seek, then it will find you. You need only listen.
Fists clenched at his sides, Edmund felt the seeds of a higher truth begin to sharpen in his mind. What if this was the truth? Perhaps fate had brought them together. The possibility existed that he was trying to justify his carnal thoughts. Of course, what else could it be? Surely this could not be love, for it was folly to think that love could be conceived from a single look.
The deafening silence only made Edmund’s attempt at denial worse. It was as though he heard her heartbeat and felt the softness of her breath on his skin. Or was it the wind and the pounding of his heart deluding him? He was not like Gregory, able to catch a woman’s eye, and with nothing more than a smile, have her freely offer him favor. That was Gregory, unashamed and without fear of consequence.
Edmund swallowed with difficulty. The more he searched for a reason to avoid giving in to his reckless thoughts, the louder the voice of seduction became.
Contemplation. Redemption. Purification.
“You’re no better than a savage,” he muttered quietly, verbally flogging himself for the way he’d watched her breasts sway gently with her determined gait. His fingers itched as he imagined the weight of them in his palms, brushing his thumbs over their pert tips. Edmund licked lips gone as dry as his throat from his perverse musings. In a few days he was to begin a journey of devotion and self-denial to the ways of the flesh, and yet he found a shred of justification for his thoughts. Was there anything more pure, more beautiful than the consummation of two hearts?
He came to a stop, realizing that he could die before morning without having known the joy of being in a woman’s arms, or of sacrificing his life in servitude. Was it not his right to understand the great mystery between a man and woman, so that he might use his experience to guide his future flock?
It was all clear to him now. This was the truth he sought, the truth he was meant to find.
Edmund drew in a deep breath. Having seen her disappear among the trees near the castle tower, he quickened his pace, fearful that he might lose her without ever knowing her name. His heart thudded against his ribs as he trotted the length of the glen, then paused to peer into the dusky shadows among the fruit trees. A flash of white caught his eye, vanishing through a wooden gate flanked by a tall hedge of tangled growth. He hurried forward, then stubbed his toe against something nestled in the thick grass. He stooped down to pry it loose from the earth, and, brushing away the dirt, held it up to the dim light of the rising moon.
Edmund stared at the object. It was a mask. The eyes hollow, surrounded by ornately carved leaves. He recogniz
ed it as part of the costume of the Green Man in the play. The grin on the stone face seemed to be poised in a playful smirk, as though about to wink at Edmund’s pursuit of the maiden.
Though the hedge bore no leaves, no fragrant blossoms of any kind, Edmund was surrounded by the alluring scent of roses in full bloom. His gaze moved from the mask to the gate, where he spied a crude nail, and hung the mask upon it. His heart thrummed as he reached out to break off a vine, and sensed the mask watching him, waiting. With a shove, Edmond pushed open the gate and stepped through, peering into the shadows. The moon shone down through the tangled branches, illuminating patches of the yard. Cautiously, he moved forward, scanning the garden void of the life that even now blossomed beyond the dormant hedge walls. He took another step, his eyes scanning the private space, and hoped the old monk would not suddenly reappear. Were they found, an Englishman with a Gaelic woman, there was no telling the punishment that might befall them.
He saw a movement in the shadows and found her standing next to a large fountain. Some of its grandeur had crumbled, falling in disrepair, but a statue of lovers in a passionate embrace remained intact. For a moment Edmond watched her, again debating whether to stay or take his leave. She bent down, her long hair swinging forward to cover her face, and dipped her hands in the fount. Enamored, Edmund envied the water as it splashed over her eyes and mouth, watching as it cascaded down the gentle curve of her neck. Her hands followed, as did his gaze, as she smoothed her palms over her throat, letting them trail down over her breasts. Was it his imagination that she’d followed him to the labyrinth, or that she’d led him here in hope that they would be alone?
He braced his hand against a tree to steady his nerves, but the sound of his labored breathing belittled his efforts. She raised her arms in the air and began to sway to the steady beat of the distant drums. He’d seen bonfires begin to dot the hillsides, and heard music whose magic stirred in his soul.
She was beautiful, his pagan queen, lost in her sensual dance. He remembered the actor portraying the May Queen, and how she’d performed for her lover, finally consummating the desire that would not be denied. Raw and passionate, they had celebrated their union, dispelling the darkness.
Edmund blinked, watching her move freely, so blissfully unaware of anyone else. Or did she know of his presence, this Gaelic seductress who’d stolen glances at him throughout the day? It was then he realized he’d been the one living in darkness, but forced by his parents to enter the religious life. As the third son, he had no right to his father’s estate, nor had he the desire to make the military his life, like his other brother. For Edmund there was little choice other than the priesthood. And there was no question that his alliance to the king in matters pertaining to Rome would be a boon to his father’s position. Edmund was resigned to them, all of them—his parents, the king and his petty rules and decrees—always doing what he was told, doing what was right.
This maiden was a light come to dispel his darkness. It all seemed so clear to him now. No longer afraid, he moved forward, careful not to startle her. Everything inside him seemed to resonate with certainty.
He saw the lifelike figures of the lovers at the center of the fountain, in what might have once been a beautiful garden. The male statue, missing one arm, held tight to his lover with his other, his face turned to hers as though declaring his love.
Edmund emerged from the shadowy arbor into the open, where the fountain stood at the base of the massive tower. He had no idea what he would say, or if she would be able to understand his words. How could he make her understand that she held him by some magical spell, and that only she had the power to set him free?
A feather-light hand touched her shoulder. Startled, Cara backed away, but the stranger’s fingers caught her wrist. Her heart beat wildly, as she saw it was the handsome man from the labyrinth. And though she had wished for this moment, now that it was reality Cara was filled with mixed emotions.
“I mean you no harm,” he said softly, inching forward as she moved away, until her back met the tower wall.
His broad shoulders blocked the moonlight as he stood in front of her. He held her hand, threading his fingers through hers. Cara felt the heat of his body through his clothes. He smelled of wood smoke and night air, a potent combination.
She would not succumb to her fears of what her father might say, of what might happen if they were caught. She wanted this. She’d wanted him from the moment their eyes met. “I am not afraid,” she told him.
He touched her cheek, tracing her lips with the pad of his thumb. She held his gaze, his eyes glittering in the moonlight as he lowered his head, lightly brushing his lips to hers. She welcomed his hungry mouth. He held her arms pinned to her sides, and the frustration of not being able to touch him heightened her desire. Insistent yet gentle, he left no doubt that she was not alone in her lustful thoughts. At last he released her arms, holding her face to his. She slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, savoring every kiss as though she might awaken from this dream.
Desperate to touch him, she tugged his shirt free, and he smiled, drawing it over his fine torso. He closed the gap between them, capturing her mouth again as though they were lost lovers needing to satisfy a desire too long denied. She smoothed her hands over his heated flesh, in wonder at the delight of touching a man’s body.
He pulled his lips away at long last, leaning his forehead against hers, and she watched the rise and fall of his broad chest. “See what you do to me?” he whispered, and took her hand, placing it over the swell at the front of his brocs. His breath caught and he leaned forward, his sighs fanning across her face, intermittent with his burning kisses, as she caressed his length.
Cara’s senses spun in sensual bliss. She felt so empowered that she could coax such a reaction from his body. He pushed forward, pressing into her hand with another audible sigh.
“I need…” His voice trailed off, ending with a kiss that threatened to set her skin on fire.
She had not a reasonable thought in her head. All she could think of was being close to him, as close as her body would allow. “Yes,” she replied, and began to tug up her gown. His hands covered hers, helping her to bunch the gown around her hips. A cool breeze circled her bare legs and his hand moved between her thighs, coaxing a sigh from her lips. Cara closed her eyes in abandon to the dark and smoky sensation of his long fingers teasing her maidenhood. His mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss, barely giving her time to take a breath. Her body grew hot, her skin damp. Her emotions spiraled out of control as a need built inside her. “Please,” she muttered incoherently.
Everything stopped, including her heart, as he stepped away and moved swiftly to free his swollen cock. He kissed her thoroughly, lifted her into his arms and, bracing her against the stone, pushed into her ready virgin sheath. His kiss ignited the smoldering fire inside Cara, and she held on tight, crushing his mouth to hers as the quick stab of pain turned to liquid heat. She cradled his neck, his eyes meeting hers as he withdrew from her partway, reentering deeper each time, stretching her until he filled her completely.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, nuzzling his lips to hers, rocking his hips gently and letting her body adjust to his. His fingers kneaded the sensitive flesh of her thighs as he seduced her with slow, thorough kisses. Cara laced her fingers in his hair, pulling him close, riding the fluid motion of his increasing thrusts. Lost in a haze of magic, she turned her face to the heavens, pressing him to her chest. The moon shone down, causing her to gaze in wonder at its remarkable beauty. She could barely breathe for the dizzying feelings imprisoned inside her, desperate to be freed. Cara teetered on the verge of sensual madness, needing relief and yet not wanting this to end. A gentle breeze whirled around them, lifting her hair, brushing across her fevered skin. The scent of roses grew stronger, as her body broke free in a blinding rush of pleasure. The sound of his low groan brought her attention back to him as he pushed deep, his body shuddering with his release, spawni
ng another wave of ecstasy in her body.
Cara clung to him as though her life depended on it. Then she leaned her head back and took a gulp of cool night air. As she did so her eye caught the profile of a shadow leaning out the window above. A slice of moonlight washed over the face, and her breath caught in her throat. Concerned by her gasp, her lover set her feet on the ground, and Cara smoothed down her kirtle. Her body still thrummed from the experience, yet save for the soreness betwixt her legs, reminding her she was no longer a child, she felt no different inside.
She watched him dress, this stranger she knew nothing about, who, unknowing, had taken more than her virginity. She’d given him a piece of her heart, but hadn’t expected to feel more alone than she had before.
Cara wrung her hands and waited until he finished and raised his eyes to hers. “Are you well? Pray, tell me that I was not too rough.” He took her hands in his, searching her face with what seemed genuine concern. Cara guarded her true feelings, careful of giving too much of her heart to this Englishman. No, though he hadn’t admitted it to her yet, it wasn’t hard to discern.
The Pleasure Garden: Sacred VowsPerfumed PleasuresRites of Passions Page 2