Setting her hand on the papyrus, she translocated it somewhere out of view. Saving it for another time, and that notion pleased him.
She scooted back against him, stilled as she felt his hardness. He said nothing. For a few seconds, she was tense, but then she leaned back against him and held up the box so he could see when she opened it. He felt her interest switch from himself to the puzzle she held in her hands.
“This will be fun to fix! Thank you again.” She stretched to put the box on a table.
“You’re welcome.”
Gift giving is done. We are a family now, Whin said.
Genista jerked and Cardus smoothed his hands down his arms. “Only as much of a family as you want. Relax.”
Whin crawled over and lay across their laps, his head pillowed on Cardus’s thigh. With a soft sigh, he fell asleep.
For a while there was silence. Genista relaxed against Cardus and all was perfect in his world. He got hard and aching but didn’t address the issue of his body, and she didn’t, either.
Finally wind chimes rippled through the air. Sighing, Genista said, “That’s my alarm to get ready for the public rituals in RoundDome Temple. I’ll need to take another shower, and change into a different ritual robe, something . . . lesser.” Her voice lowered. “This one is special for me now.”
Whin groaned and opened an eye. MUST go?
She pushed at the dog until he rolled onto the rug. Then she rose from in front of the fire. The smile she aimed at Cardus and Whin was ironic.
“Yes, I must go.”
Irritation flooded Cardus at the thought of her spending time with another man, but he masked it as he stood. He ignored the pain of his stiffened leg. Then he bowed over her hand, kissed it, looked into her eyes. “I don’t want you to go, but a promise is a promise,” he said.
“Yes.” Her lips and cheeks were pink, her eyes gleaming with interest. With attraction. For him! He cherished that notion and couldn’t prevent the yearning words from leaving his heart, his mouth.
“Will you promise to celebrate Yule with me? Only me?” It wasn’t fair, this promise. Who knew what would happen between them before Yule?
But he’d been waiting and wanting her for nearly a year and knew that he would always want her and was tired of waiting.
Her eyes shadowed.
He lifted her hand to his heart. “Please, Nista?”
She nodded slowly. “Very well.”
Relief sifted from him. “You don’t break your word.”
She bit her lip and looked away. “I try not to. I have known sorrow because of broken oaths.” She met his eyes again. “Including my own. I don’t intend to do so again.”
“Thank you.”
Whin yipped.
“And I’ll spend it with you, too,” she said.
Yes!
“Come along, Whin. Enjoy the rituals, Nista. Sharing the private one between us meant more than I can say.” Cardus summoned his most polished bow. When he straightened he saw her mouth was soft.
He couldn’t resist. He took a stride to her, swept her into his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers, opened her lips with his tongue, probed, and tasted. Fabulous. Fascinating. Just like every other thing about her.
She shuddered and her body was rubbing against his, sex to sex, and his mind was about to explode and remove all restraint.
He couldn’t take her the way he wanted. The way her body might demand he love her.
He knew who she was, and though that didn’t matter to him, it would matter to her. That he protected her not solely due to his own need, but because he was paid, would annoy her.
Tearing himself away, centimeter by centimeter, his brain buzzing with red lust, he said, “Not yet. No loving until we know each other better.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t believe a man would say that.”
Cardus took another step back, tried to steady his ragged breathing. “Which is why we need to know each other better. I mean it.”
Shaking her head, she smiled. “I can see that you do.” She gestured in a shooing fashion. “I must prepare for RoundDome Temple.”
His hands fisted. He didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t help himself. “Will you enjoy being with Asant?”
Her eyelids lowered. “He’s a very handsome man, but I don’t find him attractive. Not like I do you.”
His control almost unraveled. He had to look aside from the temptation of her. “Come on, Whin.”
Maybe I would like to go to a big ceremony. Show off my collar that I am Fam.
“I don’t think they allow Fams. Nothing was said about them, anyway,” Genista said.
Whin gasped. What kind of party is that!
A crack of laughter escaped Cardus. “Not much of one, obviously.” He nodded in Genista’s direction. “Later. Lower the spellshields for us.”
By the time he’d reached her back door, the shields were down. He left without another word and blessed the cool of the night in chilling his lust. Whin accompanied him.
The moment they exited her back gate into the park, her shields sprang up again.
Whin began to bolt through the park.
Wait! Cardus called to the FamDog telepathically—his and Genista’s Fam Companion, a wonder.
The dog skidded. What?
The public ritual in Gael City sacred grove, across from RoundDome Temple, is sure to have Fam animals. You could show your collar there.
Whin’s tongue lolled. Really? He pointed his muzzle toward Genista’s house. You are being watchdog again?
Still, Cardus agreed.
I do not like to watch, but I like to party and take my place in ritual circle. I will go with you and stay until bored.
“Thank you,” Cardus said. “We’ll leave after she does, and see if we can trail her.” Even in this quiet area, there were people outside, walking to neighbors’, to sacred groves and temples. They should be able to merge in the flow.
Let’s sit on porch in front, where it is warmer, Whin said. The dog must have spent nights sleeping on the porch.
“Fine.”
You watch, I’ll nap, Whin said, a note of arrogant pride shading into his telepathy that hadn’t been there before.
“We’re family,” Cardus said softly.
Not letting either of you go, Whin announced.
That comforted Cardus. “Good.”
Genista hopped the last public carrier going to RoundDome Temple before they closed down the line. Everyone was in a cheerful mood that lifted her spirits from the resentment that she’d promised to meet Asant. The public ritual might be large and joyful with many participants, but nothing could have more meaning than her celebration with Cardus.
She’d used cosmetics and spell enhancements to make her appearance different, her eyes sunken a bit with shadows, her nose wider, her lips smaller. Enough that no one would ever associate her with Genista Furze of the FirstFamilies, even if they had such a thought.
Warm from the press of people on the public carrier, she pushed her cloak behind her shoulders as she hopped from the vehicle, following and followed by a lot of other people.
There the crowd diverged into two streams, most heading toward the sacred grove in the round park, a dribble toward RoundDome Temple.
Genista was well within the grassyard of the temple before she saw Asant standing near a beautiful ash tree.
He came forward with a warm smile that didn’t reach his flat blue eyes, so different from Cardus. She shouldn’t be comparing Asant and Cardus, but it was inescapable. Though Cardus’s smiles were infrequent, he meant them. Genista thought the opposite was true with Asant. As for eyes . . . she found so much emotion in Cardus’s eyes, and Asant kept his eyes expressionless.
How long had Cardus shown appreciation of her in his eyes?
From the first minute they’d met on the walk between their two homes, Genista realized. She’d seen it bloom there, reluctantly. And every day since when their gazes had clashed or conn
ected. That appreciation—of a man for a woman that turned into a friend for a friend . . . a lover for the beloved—had sunk into her, readied her for Cardus and the changes in their relationship.
Asant, with all his surface handsomeness, couldn’t match that.
She should return home, spend time with the males she liked, Whin and Cardus, not mill around with a hundred other people she didn’t know, hadn’t wanted to know.
But a promise was a promise. And despite everything, she did need to be less hermitlike. It would be all too tempting to accept Whin and Cardus as her family and need no one else. That wasn’t healthy for any of them. She’d soak in the atmosphere of goodwill, of celebration, the energy of the crowd and blessings, be glad she was among folk and not alone and brooding.
Asant offered both his hands and she took them, summoning real sincerity. It wasn’t his fault that she preferred Cardus, and they’d formed a bond. This was the last invitation that she’d accept from the man.
“Greet you, GentleSir Asant.”
“Call me Amule. You look lovely.” His glance flicked over her and she sensed he was disappointed. Unlike the gown she’d worn for the private ritual, which was from her former wardrobe and cost about five years of her wages from the Faverels, she’d purchased this one for a spring ceremony earlier in the year. It hadn’t been tailored for her and was loose and of middle-class quality, an uninspired cut in a pretty shade of pale green. At the time, she’d thought she’d attend a rite at a local temple just to get out, but in the end had done the ritual in her own home.
“Thank you, Amule.”
He bowed. He was wearing black, as many were, but with no shine of leather or iron. He had a small hood cowled around his neck, perhaps to be pulled up over his face as a mask, too. A small black satchel was snug on his shoulder.
He pulled her arm through his and they took their place in the line winding its way to the door of RoundDome Temple. Laughter rose around them and Genista saw many people in costume, a tradition that had died out in the noble circles of Druida City. It looked fun—and she’d been wrong, an occasional Fam entered the temple with a human companion. Maybe next year . . .
Then she felt guilty at wishing she was with someone else and forced her attention back to Amule Asant. Glancing at him, she said softly, “Do you have a token for your lost cuz?” She hadn’t brought the stone she’d used for her miscarried son, but a standard dark blue stone that many would use in a public ritual.
Asant’s lips twisted wryly and he slanted her a look. “Actually, my cuz is alive, but has mind problems and is in a private hospital. He gave me a small estate just before his troubles overtook him. I’m trying to keep up the place the way he would want it . . . just in case . . .” He swallowed hard.
“That’s so sad.” She squeezed his arm.
“So, no, I don’t have token for him.”
“I’m sure you have a prayer for him and a slip that his affliction be taken from him to offer on the Samhain altar,” she said. She had another piece of papyrus, on it was written doubting my self-worth . That was a problem she’d had all of her life, had put on the Samhain altar often, had worked on and still not accomplished.
“Of course I have something for T’Anise.” His voice sounded flat, then he jerked under her hand, stared at her.
She smiled at him, knew she’d heard the name of his cuz before but couldn’t place it.
Then they were at the door and snaked with the mass of people through the entry hall. They passed through the corridor that encircled the temple and into the main sacred space. It was decorated in brown and black and orange and red and yellow, autumn’s colors.
They followed the couple before them along the circle inscribed in the floor and ended up in the northeast quadrant. The doors closed a couple of minutes later and the main priestess and priest in the city entered, dressed in costume as the Autumn Lord and Lady, leaves in their hair.
There was a great shout.
The Halloween ritual was upbeat and fun and ended with a spiral dance. Genista didn’t even mind the fact that she was hand in hand with Asant and a stranger. Asant’s energy was high and mischievous, adding to the general atmosphere in the temple.
As they wound back to their original places, Genista found herself laughing with all the rest, and it was a good release. The flatsweets passed out at the end of the ceremony were excellent.
Then the circle was opened for a social interval before the Samhain ritual that would begin at midnight. The noise level increased as people milled around, talking with their friends. Genista was polite, but neither she nor Asant were considered interesting. She sighed with relief as she understood that Asant had overestimated his—and her—popularity. She kept on the edges of the crowd until she’d studied everyone to see if there was anyone who knew her, and found no familiar face.
Asant excused himself to get cool cider—which Genista didn’t want—and she happily hovered on the edge of a large group. He came back and gave her a cup, then took off again. Which gave her time to think. There was something off about Asant. He’d been distracted. She’d had a lot of experience with men who wanted to display her on their arms before her marriage, and Asant wasn’t the like others she’d known. Granted, she wasn’t at her prime, and had altered her image, but she was still a beautiful woman and he wasn’t showing her off.
The cheerful lightness of the Halloween dance had faded. A low dread of going through another Samhain ceremony with another good-bye to her dead baby pitched nausea through her.
As the bell rang the three-minute warning before the beginning of the ritual, Genista decided that she would leave. The closest door was near the eastern compass point of the room. Looking up to the crystal dome, she saw bright twinmoons and stars. The tree branches were still, so there must not be much wind. Walking would be good, with streets well lit and people around. Exercise would get her blood moving again, and she’d be on her way home to Whin and Cardus.
Fingers wrapped around her elbow, and Asant tugged her back toward the circle that was forming.
Eight
Please excuse my long absence.” Asant made a face. “My cuz’s legal advocate nabbed me and wanted to talk business. I couldn’t refuse.” With her, he slid into a couple-sized gap near the western exit. He dropped his satchel, then bent over her hand, lifted it to his lips. “I’m sorry I’ve left you. Please say you forgive me.”
“Of course.” The crowd was quieting and Genista forced herself to settle, too. Contemplation, meditation, this ceremony would have time for that and she would work on her patience. Once again her thoughts winged off to Cardus. As a fighter, he’d be a man of action, but he’d been very patient with her. His wound and the healing of it would have taught him patience. He struck her as a man aware and accepting of himself. Another thing he could help her with.
“Ach!” Asant clicked his tongue, stooped to dig through his satchel at his feet. Mouth turning down, he looked at her. “I don’t have my papyrus slip—slips,” he said. “I added a line or two, a wish.” He winked. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come—” Genista started, but he was already crossing the room to the corridor, stepping through the door.
Large double doors on the north side of the temple opened and the priestess and priest entered, moved through the circle of people to the altar in the center of the chamber. Once there, the priest lifted his hands. “A vote, my friends. Who wishes to open the dome?”
Genista added her voice to the roar.
The priestess smiled and said, “And who wishes to raise a weathershield?”
There was a much smaller assent.
“Very well, we will be opening the dome and not raising a weathershield. This will delay our ritual a few minutes. Please stay in your places.”
But some of the more scantily clad people had stepped from the circle. Genista hesitated. She had her cloak and would be warm enough, and the atmosphere of the room was beginning to charge again with exciteme
nt and Flair and power . . . the magic of Samhain and the new year.
Yet she was restless. She hadn’t been with so many people for two years, and several of them were now watching her . . . people Asant had whispered to. Could he have winnowed out her secret? If so, he hadn’t acted any different to her, and that was a mark in his favor. She winced at the thought that she had a column book with tics in it for Asant. And he wasn’t here.
The spell-lights in the room dimmed, then went out. A sliding noise attracted her attention, and she caught her breath with others around her as she watched the petals of the dome slip open and down into the building. There was a slight scuffle beside her as Asant joined her, but she didn’t look away. Clouds draped over a twinmoon, edging the orb in silver; stars were so bright she thought she could touch one. The scent of smoke and incense from hundreds of cauldrons used in private rituals wafted into the room, along with the fragrance of incense, making her smile.
“Welcome to Samhain Celebration, friends!” shouted the priest and the priestess.
“Welcome!” Genista shouted back, finally caught up in the moment. She turned to smile at Asant and saw a man she’d been introduced to earlier, a city councilman.
“Your companion seems to have left you, more fool he,” the man said.
“He’ll be returning shortly,” Genista said but frowned. How long had Asant been gone?
The councilman dipped his head. “Perhaps, but until then, may I keep you company? Here, we’re at the very beginning of the circle, a few steps over”—with a charming smile and apologies, he exchanged places with another couple—“and now we are at the end of the circle when it will close. Give him a little more time.” He grinned. “Though I think I’ll make him stand on my other side as a penalty for his delay.” The councilman nudged Asant’s bag along the floor, and it gaped wide to show an antique white-handled knife to use during the ritual.
With a low whistle, the man shook his head. “Very nice piece.”
“Yes.” And Genista was reassured. Of course Asant wouldn’t leave his belongings.
The priestess and priest began the opening prayer, and Genista followed the responses, but once again her pleasure evaporated and an uncomfortable tension lodged between her shoulders.
Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta Page 25