“They disappear when my anger fades,” I answered as the manifestation evaporated into nothing.
Elfwine thrust herself between Megan and me, jabbing me in the chest as she spoke. “The laws say you must consummate the relationship with your goddess in full view of the lord and lady.”
“One,” I said, holding up a finger and ticking it off. “It’s rare for the sun and moon to be present at the same time, so right there, that tells me your laws are completely mad. And two, I haven’t consummated any other relationships outside, so I’m hardly likely to start now.”
She frowned. “You cannot deny the laws. You must have done so, or you would not still be Cernunnos.”
“Well, I haven’t, so…” A memory popped into my mind at that moment. A millennium and a half ago, I’d come across a drowning peasant girl, and hauled her out of the river sodden and half dead. Despite the mud, muck, and stray bits of vegetation that dotted her person, she welcomed me with open arms. Right there, on the bank, under the hot July sun…“Well, hell.”
“I am not having sex with you outdoors,” Megan said firmly, slapping away Maeve’s hands as she tried pull Megan’s red sweater off, to garb her in the druidic virginal robes. “Will you stop trying to take my clothes off? No, I will not put it on! Go away!”
“Never fear,” I said calmly, taking Megan’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “When we have sex, it will be on my bed. It’s quite comfortable. You’ll enjoy it. Ah, there’s Stewart again. Must be time for tea. Shall we?”
Before Megan or Elfwine had a chance to protest, I herded Megan toward the tower. Elfwine spat something that sounded like an ancient curse, but I ignored it. “Tea ready?” I asked Stewart as he trotted by us.
“Hmm? No idea. I’m having a bit of a problem with the musicians, so I’m off to town to try to find some others.”
“What’s wrong with the ones we normally use?” I asked, frowning at the displacement of our normally well-laid plans.
“They object to the minstrels’ galley.”
“There’s nothing objectionable about my castle! The minstrels’ galley is the epitome of perfection.”
“Not according to the musicians, it isn’t,” Stewart answered in a snappish tone. “According to them, it’s unheated, cramped, and you insist on storing the output of your last hobby there.”
Megan gave me a quick once-over. “Hmm…hobby…something sophisticated? Cigar collecting? Wine tasting?”
“Taxidermy. Stewart, you tell those arsed musicians that I had a look at the badger and it doesn’t stink at all, let alone smell like a five-day-old dead horse in a peat bog, as one of them claimed. Be firm with them, man. Mortals respond to firmness.”
Stewart rolled his eyes and headed down the hill to the car park.
“So much for Stewart announcing tea, eh?” Megan asked with a little smile that warmed me to my toes.
“I had to get you out of the druid camp. Elfwine can be quite formidable when she chooses.”
“I can imagine, although I don’t for one moment believe you need to resort to subterfuge to get your way. I’m still trying to take it all in, but you’re a god! A real god! What does Cernunnos do? And how did you get to be him in the first place? Wait, don’t answer that. Let me get my tape recorder. This will make a fascinating article.”
She was off and running before I could answer her. I contented myself with ogling her fine ass as she ran, indulging in a little fantasy of how I was going to consummate our relationship. By the time tea had been ordered, and Megan had found her tape recorder and digital camera, we were settled quite comfortably on the settee in my study.
“Now, I want to hear all about how you became a god…and let’s do it without you trying to cop a grope, all right?” she said, pushing away my questing hand with brutal cruelty.
“I would never do anything so mundane as trying to cop a grope, which I’ll assume is on par with feeling you up. Which, I would like to point out, I was not trying to do. Time is passing quickly, and now that we’re so comfortable with each other, I thought we might slip into phase two.”
If the stony look on Megan’s lovely face was anything to go by, my charm was not as effective as it had proved in the past. I turned on both the eye twinkles and deepened my dimples for added effect.
She melted into my arms.
“I’m not having sex with you, Dane,” she mumbled against my Adam’s apple. “You can smile those knee-melting smiles, and you can tickle my palm, and flash your dimples at me as much as you want—I’m not going to stay here in Ireland. I have no time for a relationship. I have a job to do, remember?”
“And I’m perfectly content to let you do it.” I inhaled a deep breath, savoring her scent. It was the mingled aroma of warm woman, soap, and a faint woodsy scent that reminded me of the violets that blanketed the roots of an ancient oak deep in the nearby woods. It was a primal, earthy scent, one that seemed to sink deep into my bones. “I enjoy travel, as well. We can go together to the places you are sent to write about. It will be enlightening.”
“Somehow, I don’t think enlightenment is what you need,” she answered, pushing away with both hands on my chest.
“On the contrary, I believe life with you will provide me much to think about. We will have many intelligent conversations over the centuries.”
“Centuries…” She chuckled, then moaned as my mouth found the sensitive spot behind her ears. I was careful not to make the same mistake as before, and contented myself with stroking her back gently, rather than reaching for more intriguing parts. “I’m not a god like you. I am not going to live for centuries.”
“Once you marry me and become my goddess, you will cease to be mortal. It’s one of the many perks I have to offer you.” I nibbled delicately on her ear. For a moment I thought she was going to pull back out of my gentle embrace, but she gave a little shudder of pleasure and allowed me to continue to press hot kisses to her neck.
“What sort of perks?”
I kissed a path to her chin, her adorable chin. “You’ll live a life of comfort. I have ownership of this castle so long as I am Cernunnos. You will live in an authentic fifteenth-century castle with me, an authentic Irish god.”
Megan laughed, and turned her head slightly to allow me access to the other side of her face. She wasn’t returning my caresses yet, but the fact that she wasn’t spurning them was a strong indicator that things would go well once our relationship took on a more intimate form.
“I’m not sure everyone would count either point as being a perk, but we’ll let that go for now. What else do you have to offer a potential goddess?” she asked.
“An eternity of devotion.” I paused in my nibbling, arguing with myself whether or not I should address the dark half of each year. I’d already mentioned my role in the Underworld to her once, but I hadn’t gone into details. If I told her more, she’d surely be frightened off, putting in jeopardy my job, those of the people whom I employed, and even my life. Could I risk all that just to satisfy the nagging conviction that to hide any truth from her would be reprehensible?
I sighed to myself, placed a kiss on the pulse point below her ear, and pulled back just enough to look into those beautiful blue eyes. “There is one thing you deserve to know. It’s about the Underworld. As I mentioned, I’m the lord of the fifth hour, which means that part of the year I spend overseeing my part of the Underworld. As my goddess, you would be required to come with me during those times.”
Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, but I was taking no chances with Megan—I wanted her by my side, not gallivanting off in Brazil meeting oiled-up samba dancers.
“Hell, you mean?” she asked, her eyes still misty with passion. “You want this woman you pick out to go with you to hell each year?”
“The Underworld is not hell,” I corrected her, gently brushing a loose eyelash that had fallen onto her cheekbone. She was so indescribably lovely, it made my testicles tighten just to touch her.
??
?Oh? What is it, then?”
“It is the first step in the journey to either Abaddon—which is what you think of as hell—or the Court of Divine Blood.”
“That would be heaven?” she asked, her lips so tempting I had to struggle to keep from possessing myself of them.
“Not quite, but most people make that mistake.” I couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss her, I had to taste those delectable lips once again. I leaned down, my mouth just brushing hers when she slid out of my arms, leaping to her feet.
“This is…you’re so overwhelming…I just can’t think straight when you’re so close to me!”
The last few words came out as a wail. Megan started to pace the study the way I’d paced it earlier.
“Dearling, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? How can you sit there, a man who just a half hour ago was sporting antlers, and ask me what’s wrong?”
I thought back over my most recent actions, looking for something that might have upset her. “I’m sorry about kissing you, but your lips were beckoning me, and I gave in to temptation.”
“They were not! There was no beckoning! And I’m not upset about your kissing me—”
I leaped to my feet, hearing as clear a go-ahead signal as any man has heard.
“No, wait! I meant I am upset about that! That is…” She stopped pacing and ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, you have me so confused, I don’t know what I’m saying. Would you believe that I’m thought to be an unusually calm, collected person? No one who saw me now would recognize me! You’ve cast some sort of insanity spell on me, haven’t you? Admit it!”
She had ahold of my shirt and was trying to shake me. I looked down into her stormy, troubled face, confused. What was she so upset about? “I don’t know of an insanity spell, although I do know one to remove warts. Do you have a wart you’d like me to take care of?”
“No!” she said, letting go to pace past me again. I sat back, content to watch her breasts and ass jiggle as she walked, her hands gesturing wildly. Evidently she was one of those people who spoke with their hands.
“It’s just that…oh, this is so hard to explain. This morning I landed in Ireland, and the world was the way it should be. I was happy and excited and looking forward to this trip, and doing my best to win the contest. And then I came here, and you were so incredibly handsome, and you started saying the most outrageous things, and then those poodles charged us, but they weren’t normal poodles because they sounded more like bulls roaring than dogs…what are you doing?”
My gaze snapped up to her face. “Hmm?”
She stopped to face me, both hands on her hips. “You were staring at my boobs, weren’t you? I’m here baring my soul to you, trying to explain what I am feeling, and you haven’t heard a single word because your whole attention has been focused on my boobs. Hasn’t it?”
“No, of course not.” I glanced down at the objects in question. They rebuked me for my betrayal. “Possibly I was. But to be equally fair, your ass also held my interest.”
“My…” She stared at me open-mouthed for a moment.
“And I did hear what you were saying. I heard every word. I am capable of multitasking: I can watch both your ass and your breasts, and listen to you at the same time.”
She inhaled so much air, it was a surprise there was any left in the room. “You…you man!” She stormed out of the study and raced down the stairs to her room.
I followed, peering down the spiral staircase to make sure she made it there safely. She shoved past Stewart, who was climbing the stairs, with a word that brought back memories of a sailing trip to Portugal a few centuries before.
“Dinner is in an hour, dearling,” I called. “Don’t be late—Stewart likes the musicians to start while we’re still dining.”
The slam of her door echoed up the staircase, disturbing the pigeons that sat outside the study window.
“Trouble?” Stewart asked as he followed me into the room.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered, settling in my chair to take care of some business before dinner. “Why, have you heard something?”
“I take it Miss Megan was upset about something?”
I waved it away. “Nothing serious. She was a bit upset that I was admiring her assets.”
“Women like that don’t usually like to be ogled,” Stewart pronounced, taking his seat behind his own desk.
“Women like what?”
“Intelligent.”
“Ah.” I thought about it for a moment or two, but there was nothing to worry about. “Megan will realize that my attentions to her were meant in a flattering rather than a lascivious way. Her little upset is nothing serious. She’ll be all right after dinner, you’ll see.”
Stewart’s look spoke volumes.
Seven
T here was a naked woman in my bed when I arrived at my bedroom an hour later.
“Good evening,” the woman said, moving her shoulders slightly so the sheet slid down and bared her breasts.
They were very nice breasts. I admired them for a few moments before I sniffed the air, and sighed. “Sandalwood.”
“Erm…what?”
“Sandalwood. The druid women always wear sandalwood. I have no idea why—patchouli always seemed to me to be a much more feminine scent. I assume you are yet another one of Elfwine’s virgins, here to seduce your way into goddesshood.”
The sandalwood-scented druid gave me a wanton smile. “No, I’m not one of the sacrificial virgins. I just wanted to sleep with you. I like the way your trousers fit.”
“I’ll pass along the compliment to my tailor.” I picked up the woman’s robe and tossed it to her, along with various undergarments and the huaraches the druids favored in warmer months. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m obsessed with another woman, and getting her to the altar is taking up all my time and attention. You might try me later, after I’ve sated myself on her, say in…oh…five thousand years? Six? No, let’s make it ten to be on the safe side.”
The woman blinked at me in disbelief, confusion writ upon her attractive heart-shaped face. “But…you don’t want to make love to me?”
I frowned, eyeing her closely, paying particular attention to her breasts, then conducted a mental examination of myself. My heart rate was steady, my blood pulsing along as normal, my breathing perfectly controlled. Not even the lad in my trousers was stirring. But let me even think of Megan naked, warm, and welcoming, writhing beneath me…I cleared my throat, opening the door for the druid, hoping she wouldn’t see the tent pole that had started growing. “No, thank you. You could try my steward if you’re in a randy mood. He’s usually very obliging to women.”
The druid shook her head, not moving from the bed. “I don’t believe this. Everyone I talked to said you would shag anything that moved. You’re rejecting me?”
I cocked my head, the echoes of a familiar noise reaching my ears. “It’s difficult to believe, isn’t it? But true, nonetheless. I have met the woman of my dreams, and I intend to take full advantage of the twist fate has given me. I would advise you to don your clothing quickly, before the hellhounds get here. They’re on the way up the stairs now, and they don’t take kindly to interlopers in my private quarters.”
The deep, bell-like baying of the hellhounds rolled up the stairs. The druid froze for a second, then was out of the bed and into her clothing before I could count to five.
“You may wait in the room across the landing until I have them shut into this room,” I told her. The door closed behind her just as the hellish beasts crested the stairs, pouring into my room with a frenzy of snapping jaws, bobbing curls, and the ticky-ticky-ticky noise of tiny toenails scrabbling on a stone surface.
I glared at them for a moment, opened the door, and bellowed out to anyone who could hear, “Who the hell put red bows on my hellhounds?”
Silence was the only answer I was to receive…and what sounded like muffled snickering from the floors below. r />
I dressed in the black wool trews, linen léine, and leather ionar (jacket) that made up my traditional garb, worn for the show we gave tourists the first night of their stay. The hellhounds made things a bit difficult, but in the end, Stewart and Jack the stable boy and I managed to get my boots away from the poodles’ slavering jaws and onto my feet.
“Is everyone assembled?” I asked as Jack clattered downstairs. Stewart adjusted one of the leather ties on my ionar and brushed off a bit of hellhound fluff.
“Aye, my lord. All but Miss Megan. She said something about not being hungry.”
“Tell her if she doesn’t go down to the dining room with you, I’ll consider it her statement of desire for me to visit her in her room, instead.”
Stewart grinned and hurried off. I stood before my mirror, the hounds milling and snapping around my feet, and practiced a charming yet humble smile—one that said that although I admired Megan for her delicious and much anticipated body, I also valued her keen intellect, slightly skewed sense of humor, and any other character traits I could pack into the smile. Satisfied with the result, and figuring Stewart had had enough time to explain to Megan how things were, I snatched up my horn, slung a quiver and bow over my shoulder, and opened the door.
“Fag an bealac!” I bellowed, giving the traditional Irish war cry of “Clear the way!” The hounds leaped forward as the horn touched my lips, its rich, mellow sound counterpointing nicely with their deep bellows. They raced down the stairs, myself in close pursuit, since it was more visually stunning if we all arrived at the door of the dining room together. Not to mention safer for anyone who wasn’t well out of the hounds’ path.
Stewart stood in the doorway to the dining room, an odd expression on his face. “My lord,” he called out as the hounds and I raced past him.
“Later,” I called, anticipating with much pleasure the look of admiration that would fill Megan’s glorious eyes when she saw me in my manly, authentic medieval Irish outfit (authentic in appearance—it had none of the lice, fleas, and itchiness of the original items of clothing). I ran into the middle of the dining room and halted the hellhounds with a sharp command, raising my hand and striking a dramatic pose to intone the traditional greeting, “Rise thee to the hunt! Cernunnos, lord of the woods, is come!”