Love's Blazing Ecstasy (12 page)

Wynne removed his fingers from her mouth. “He loves me as I love him.”

“Perhaps he told you as much.  You are very pretty and I doubt that he is blind.” He grabbed her arm. “He may bed you, but marry you…he will not. You will be nothing but his whore, his concubine! That is how the Romans are.” Letting go of her arm, he turned to walk away, but Wynne hurried to catch up with him before he walked through the door. Reaching out to him, she caught the sleeve of his tunic and he turned around to look at her, his eyes filled with emotional pain.

“Edan, I’m sorry. I would never have wanted to hurt you.”  She took a deep breath and then another. “ I hear your words, but my heart will not listen.  Love has a language of its own, it seems.”

“So it would appear….”

She shook her head.  “I don’t care what I am called. I only know that I want to be with him among his people or mine.  I cannot live without him!”

A myriad of emotions contorted Edan’s face as he fought to maintain his dignity. “So, you would rather live with him as his whore than live with me as my honored wife. Is that what you are telling me?”

Wynne’
s expression softened as she tried to make him understand. “I never wanted to wound your heart, please believe me. The feelings between Valerian and I just happened, like a lightning strike in the forest.”

“Just as destructive,” Edan grumbled.

“No.” She took his hand, squeezing gently. “Someday you will feel as I do about someone, and then perhaps you will understand.”

“I feel that way about you....”

“I love you as a
brother
, Edan.”

“A brother!” The way he said the word
gave proof of his humiliation and frustration. “I don’t want you to feel about me that way.”

“But I do.”

He stepped outside the door.  “Then there is nothing more to say.”

She followed him.  “Please, Edan, let there be friendship between us, for I need your love and your trust.”

For a long time there was silence between them, as if they were both suddenly mute. Edan looked at the face of the woman he had known since his boyhood. There was no guile there, only truth and he had to respect her honesty. He knew her to be a woman to honor, as well as love.  He didn’t want his wounded pride to destroy what memories and feelings they had shared.

Slowly he reached out  to her in a gesture of camaraderie. “So be it then,” he said, taking her hand in a firm grasp. For a moment they stood looking at each other; then Edan once more turned to leave.

The memory of her late-night visitor prompted Wynne to put a hand on his arm to stay him. “My father must know of the danger I am in here,” she whispered, “of the danger to us all from the forces of darkness.”

Edan nodded. “I will tell your father what has transpired tonight. You cannot
be left alone here when there are those who seek to harm you. Perhaps he will see to it that you are freed.”

Wynne knew the ways of the Druids. They would not let her go until the time of the full moon, as they had said. “No, Edan. I must stay here.”

“Then I will see that you are guarded night and day,” he promised. For the first time that night he smiled. “You are brave, Wynne. You always were. I hope the Roman realizes that and gives you at least some honor. I hope that he has sense enough to know the treasure he holds.” This said, he left Wynne alone, staring hard out into the misty night.

It was said among her people that if one thought hard enough about a loved one far away, one could have the power to bring that loved one back. With all her heart she wished that to be true.

“Valerian,” she breathed, envisioning him in her mind’s eye, then carefully she closed the outer door of the lodge.

Chapter Fifteen

Wynne woke up safe and warm in her own bed furs, a feeling of happiness overwhelming her. She was home, her confinement had come to an end, and she had been purified in the ceremony of fire and water by the white-robed Druids of her tribe. She would never forget the heat from the flames of the torches as they walked in a circle around her, singing their melodious poetic songs, nor would she forget the chill of the night as she had been carried to the edge of the lake and submerged until she thought her lungs would burst for want of air. When she emerged from the waters, she had been greeted as one reborn, all forgiven, and her father had reached out for her hand, saying, “Now, let us go home.”

Leaving her bed, Wynne hurried to get dressed, and went in search of her father. There was still so much that needed to be said between them. She found him just outside, sharpening his javelin, deep in thought.

“Father.”

He put down his spear and motioned for her to have a seat beside him on the ground. It reminded her of so many other times when she had been seated beside him, watching him at work.

“I have missed you, daughter.”

All the bitterness she had felt the last several days vanished with his words. “And I, you,” she said.

There was stark silence between them as each struggled to find the right words to say. Finally Adair broke the silence. “Edan told me about the danger you were in while confined to the lodge,” he said. “I don’t think I slept a wink all of those five nights, after I heard his words. If anyone were to harm a hair on your head, I swear to you I would strangle them with my own two hands!” He clenched his fists in anger.

“I know who sought to harm me, Father. It was one of the priests of the darkness cult. The same man who sought the death of the Roman.”

“You can identify him?”

Wynne nodded.

“Then perhaps all is not lost…at least not yet.”

“I am safe now,” Wynne answered, laying her hand on his arm.

“Yes, you are safe, but I tremble to think what might have happened had Edan not come along in time.”

The mention of Edan’s name was like a wall suddenly come between them. Wynne got up from the ground and walked a few paces away from her father. She had to tell him of her determination not to marry Edan, and feared that this new peace between them would be shattered at her words.

“Edan has told me that there are plans for our forthcoming joining,” she began, turning her back to him. “I will say to you what I said to him: I cannot marry him.” She waited for his anger, but it did not come. Instead he walked over to where she stood and touched her shoulder so that she would look into his eyes.

She was so like him, the mirror image of his own soul, he thought. “I have learned a great deal this past month. I made many mistakes which I would seek to rectify. I will never lose my temper again with you, Wynne. You are too precious to me.”

“Then you are not angry. You will not force this marriage upon me?”

He shook his head, looking suddenly old and tired. Had he suffered as much as she during her month of solitude?

“I believe that you should have a right to your own life. Were you a man-child you would have the choice as to what path you would choose, be it Druid or warrior. The choice of a mate also would be yours. I have sought only to protect you, not to bind you against your will. I will give you the choice of marrying Edan or of foreswearing the marriage vows. I will not, however, give you permission to marry a
Roman. As long as I am alive, you must obey me in this.”

She would not have to marry Edan. His words filled her with bittersweet joy, for neither could she be given in marriage to Valerian. To become his mistress, she must again trespass against the laws of the tribe to which she had just been welcomed back.

“I hear you, Father, and will obey your will. I will not marry.” She could never marry Valerian, but she could not give him up.

Wynne left her father and was setting about her chores when a sound behind her caused her to start. It was Brenna coming upon her like a dark spirit. She looked at Wynne with eyes full of malice. From her hiding place in the shadows she had watched father and daughter.

“I could not help hearing your words. So you refuse to obey your father and marry a fine man. We are to be burdened with your company until you are old and useless,” Brenna whined.

Wynne fought to keep her composure. At times Brenna’s sharp tongue was more than she could bear.

“I will not be a burden to you. I will find a way to make myself useful,” Wynne answered.

“Doing what? You
are
useless.” Brenna raised her arm as she took a step toward Wynne as if to strike her, but before she could reach out to her, Adair approached with a scowl. In his presence Brenna was as sweet to Wynne as nectar, but Adair was beginning to sense that there was discord between the two women.

“Close your mouth, woman. It is I who decide who will and who will not live under my roof. My home is Wynne’s home for as long as I live. She is my daughter and I will not permit you to treat her thus.”

Brenna turned angry eyes upon him, and for a moment Wynne thought that she would lash out at Adair. In a way she hoped that Brenna would do so, for she wanted her father to see what kind of woman his wife really was. Brenna, however, held her tongue and obediently lowered her eyes. “Forgive me, Adair,” she murmured. “I was only thinking of you.” Returning to the lodge, she shut the outer door, leaving father and daughter alone.

“Brenna will never understand your ways, daughter. But you must not be angry with her—she means well. But enough talk of this matter. Come, I have something I want to show you.”

Wynne smiled and complied, knowing that her father was nearly bewitched by Brenna’s beauty and charms. And though her stepmother was unfailingly cruel to her, Wynne was reluctant to add further to her father’s burdens by revealing this side of his wife’s nature.

Adair took her arm, and together they walked away from the lodge toward the outskirts of the village.

As the first rays of the hazy dawn touched the earth, Valerian awoke with a start. Where was he? Had he been dreaming all that had happened? No. The ache in his bones from being on horseback so long attested to that. All the events of the past few days tumbled through his brain. Would he ever be able to forget?

Rising upon his stiffened limbs, he found Severus’ eyes upon him, watching—always watching. Could the man read his thoughts?

“The man is insane,” he said to himself, and knew it must be true. The
Roman army under Severus Cicero had swept across the land of the Celts, leaving in its wake such destruction as had never been seen before by warrior or Druid. Orders had been given to torch or cut down the sacred oak groves, and the Druids, and many of their followers had been put to the sword or sold into slavery.

“Hurry up, centurion!” one of the soldiers playfully mocked, bringing Valerian out of his thoughts. It was a young brown-haired soldier named Burrus, who spoke in jest, mimicking the tribune
, Severus, who was now already mounted upon his horse and ready to ride. A friendship had sprung up between the beardless Burrus and Valerian. A voice deep inside told Valerian that this young soldier abhorred the killing as much as he himself did.

Hurrying with his armor, Valerian mounted his horse and rode up beside the soldier. Ahead of them they could see the tribune scanning the horizon for any sign of the Celts.

“It seems we will have another day of constant traveling,” the young man said wistfully.

“Our tribune seems to enjoy being uncomfortable,” Valerian answered dryly. “As for me, I am in no hurry to meet any more of the Celtic warriors
. They are fearsome in battle. I have never seen their equal.”

His words were confirmed by Burrus. “I can’t help but admire their courage.”

“Even our fearless tribune must be at least a little awed by them,” Valerian answered, nodding his head in the tribune’s direction. “They are enough to frighten even the most experienced soldiers, the way they ride into battle, long fair hair flying about their shoulders. And their chanting….”

What he said was true.
The Celts seemed to take on an unearthly form as they rode, their clear white skin ghostlike in the sunlight. They rode tall and proud, chanting with their harsh voices or playing discordant music on their horns and beating their swords against their shields. Before a battle they would incite their war spirit with ritualistic imitations of battle, dancing and leaping about and often working into such a frenzy that they threw off their chain mail and helmets and went forth in all their naked glory, fearless and terrifying.

Severus turned back toward his men. “We ride until we reach the crest of that hill,” he ordered. “Onward to the old hill fort, then we rest.”

“Rest.  Did you hear that, Valerian,” Burris exclaimed.

“Yes, I heard. But we have a long way to go.”

The bitter winds raged about them as the soldiers rode. Valerian pulled his cloak tightly about him to keep the chill from his body, cursing Severus all the while beneath his breath.

“Damn! Can’t we
Romans learn to live in peace? Damn Severus and his infernal quest for territory. One would think him to be Nero himself.” The fear nagged him that Wynne would be one of the innocent victims of this senseless violence. He had to find a way to save her, just as she had once saved him.