Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn (17 page)

Davan said.

95

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I didn’t want to get Cairnan too suspicious right out of the block but I might as well have saved my effort for he knew something was up. Sometimes he is far too intuitive.”

“What if he had chosen another woman?” Davan countered.

Waving aside the suggestion, the queen clucked her tongue. “Men rarely know what is best for them when it comes to a mate. Many choose the prettiest or the most sensual but few ever look for that true lifemate.” She shrugged. “I put a gal before him—knowing damned well he wouldn’t have her. Just as I knew he would, he balked and I had them put him somewhere where I could keep an eye on him until it was time to get serious with his future. Men don’t know what they want. You have to hit them in the face with it. I suppose that one little eye on their pecker isn’t looking for anything important and is just keeping watch for the next lay.”

Eadan laughed but Davan blushed all the way to the tops of her breasts. She stepped off the stool upon which she’d been standing and smoothed down the voluminous skirt of her gown.

Eadan adjusted her sister’s veil. “I am sure they will be happy, Your Majesty.”

“I had wanted a virgin for him,” her future mother-in-law went on, causing Davan’s blush to deepen, “but that’s a commodity hard to come by in this day and age. At least she’s only slept with one man and he gave her no illness.”

“Your Majesty, please!” Davan protested. “I wish—”

A gong sounded somewhere close by and the queen got to her feet.

“That’s the signal for Cairnan to enter the sanctuary,” she informed Davan. “When the next bell sounds, it will be your turn to join him.”

“I…I…” Davan was wringing her hands. She was more nervous than she could ever remember being. Standing before the pompous academics at the university and defending her dissertation was a walk in the park compared to how she was feeling at that moment.

The queen walked over to her and took Davan by the shoulders. “You listen to me, wench. Your brother will be waiting outside those doors to escort you to a man the entire universe both admires and fears. You are a woman who is his equal. Never forget that!”

The second gong sounded and Davan whimpered.

Eadan went to door, opened it and peeked into the hall. She motioned someone to her.

Major Durbin Shanahan of the Royal Breasal Guard marched up to his youngest sister, looked her over and nodded. Glancing past her, he caught sight of Davan and his mouth dropped open.

“No,” Eadan said, “she won’t be keeping the gown so shut your mouth, Dur.”

Davan’s brother was gawking at the diamonds adorning the gown and his eyes were filled with greed.

96

Pleasure’s Foehn

“If you’re wondering at the worth,” the queen said, “the value is close to a million gildings.”

“Gawh,” Durbin breathed. Snapping to attention as his sister joined him in the corridor, he extended his arm. “Well done, Davie,” he whispered. “Very well done, indeed.”

Rolling her eyes at her sister, Davan took her brother’s arm. She knew he was contemplating anew the political and monetary advantages to having a sister married to a king.

With her hand resting on Durbin’s arm, the queen preceding them down the corridor and her only sister bringing up the rear, Davan was growing more nervous by the moment. In a way, she felt trapped.

“It’s happening,” she said to herself. “It’s really happening.”

“I visited His Grace before coming to fetch you,” Durbin said, leaning down so he could speak privately to his sister. “He’s as jittery as you seem to be.”

Davan wasn’t reassured knowing Cair was nervous like her. Perhaps he had changed his mind and the wedding would be cancelled.

“The only difference in his demeanor and yours is that he’s anxious to get the ceremony over and done with so the two of you can be alone.” Durbin swept his eyes over his sister. “I can see why. You are lovely, Davie.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that things would go on without a hitch, Davan tried to relax. As they walked, she saw other people lining the hall, bowing or curtseying to them as they passed. Falling in line behind Eadan, servants and aristocrats alike seemed to be in a festive mood. There didn’t appear to be a frown among the group. All the way down the stairs, as servants took up her veil and the weighty train of her gown, Davan could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Her palms were sweating and her mouth was as dry as a desert. Her knees felt like rubber, threatening to give out on her at any moment. Her grip on her brother’s arm was so fierce Durbin winced now and again but he seemed genially happy for her. The little procession made its way to the chapel beyond the Great Hall. Dozens of tall three-armed candelabras holding plump white candles were lined up to either side of a deep red carpet, which marked the pathway. The plush carpet was sprinkled lavishly with rose petals and the scent of the flower hung in the air. It was ten minutes to midnight when Davan was escorted to her lover’s side. She barely noticed the chapel filled to overflowing or the luxurious decorations that lined the walls and enhanced the altar. Her eyes were on Cair as he stood there in his formal black dress uniform with a ceremonial sword sheathed in a solid gold scabbard at his side. The waist-length fitted jacket was adored with gold buttons and the high collar carried the golden insignia of the Scythlords on each tab. Crimson red shoulder boards announced his rank as a Captain of the Royal Amhantarean Fleet. When he turned to look at her, she thought her heart would stop so handsome was he that evening. 97

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Everyone rose as Davan was escorted to the altar by her brother. Haunting flute music played softly in the background and with every step closer to the man she was about to marry, Davan felt the worry and fear shedding off her. Cair was smiling at her, his eyes filled with pride and happiness.

Cair shook hands with Durbin then accepted the precious gift of Shanahan’s sister into Cair’s keeping. The Amhantarean prince extended his arm then covered Davan’s hand with his as her palm rested lightly upon his sleeve. Davan would never remember the words of the ceremony spoken over them by the High Priest. She was looking into Cair’s eyes and no one else seemed to exist. There was no crowd of illustrious politicians or royal personages sitting in the pews to witness their troth. Though Eadan was the Maid of Honor and Davan’s brother Connail, Cair’s Best Man—since Bennick could never leave the monastery to which he had pledged himself—they were not standing beside her and Cair. Only she and Cair were standing before the High Priest, gazing intently into one another’s eyes as the Holy Words were spoken.

At the stroke of midnight when their vows had been said and their status as man and wife declared by the High Priest, they kissed to seal the bargain between them and it was such a sweet kiss—so filled with the promise of new lives beginning—there were sighs from those gathered.

Cair broke the contact first, his lips pulling reluctantly from hers. He held her gaze for a beat or two then turned with her to face those gathered.

“Your Majesty,” the High Priest called out. “Ladies and Gentlemen. I am pleased to introduce to you His Majesty Prince Cairnan, and Her Majesty Princess Davan, the Duke and Duchess of Luath!”

Everyone stood and applause rang out through the chapel. The queen wiped away a tear as the newly Joined couple came down the aisle as man and wife. She reached out to her son and he stopped to kiss her on the cheek. Davan saw Seamus grinning at them and when she returned his smile, the old man winked at her. The feast in the Great Hall would be spoken of for years to come. Music and laughter filled the large room. Emissaries from far and wide came individually to congratulate the newlyweds and to offer gifts from their home worlds or extend invitations for the duke and duchess to visit.

Cair beamed with pride as the male dignitaries seemed unable to hide their admiration for his bride. They fawned over her and several flirted outrageously with her while casting a surreptitious look toward their host to gauge his reaction. Upon seeing Ambassador Giles D’Eange approaching the head table, the Scythelord leaned over at one point and remarked to his wife that the Ambassador from
an Fhrainch
had quite the reputation with the female sex and to be careful how she spoke with him.

“The least innocuous remark is often misconstrued by D’Eange. If he thinks you are encouraging him, he will pester you until I intervene.”

98

Pleasure’s Foehn

“I will be circumspect, milord. I wouldn’t want you to call the ambassador out on my account,” Davan whispered back.

Cair sat back and watched his lady greet each official and representative with equal parts of grace and humility. He couldn’t take his eyes from her and itched to get her alone. His hand held hers throughout the evening and neither ate more than a few bites of the elegant repast that was set before them. When he could stand it no longer, he asked if she was ready to end the evening.

“More than ready, milord,” she replied. “If I smile one more time, my face will be permanently frozen in that position.”

Cair stood and helped Davan to her feet. He looked out over those gathered, meeting the steady gazes of his wife’s brothers and only sister. When the Great Hall grew silent—the guests becoming aware of the bride and groom’s imminent departure, the prince regent of Amhantar lifted his wife’s hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss upon it.

“I am,” he said, “the happiest man in the universe tonight. At my side is a lady whom I treasure and who has pledged to be my helpmate and partner from this night forward. What more could a man ask?”

Those gathered applauded, jostling one another for an unimpeded look at their host and hostess.

Bending down Cair took up his and Davan’s goblets, handed hers to her, and then raised his own to the assemblage. She looked up at him as he spoke and though she did not understand the Amhantarean language recognized the emotion in his words.

“Go n-éirí an bóthar leat

“Go raibh an Ghaoth go brách ag do chúl

“Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d’aghaidh

“Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna

“Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,

“Go gcoinní Bandia i mbos A láimhe thú.”

The wedding guests repeated the second part of the blessing then toasted the couple in return.

Making their way through the crowd that was once more applauding them with vigor, Cair leaned down to translate the toast to his bride.

“May the road rise to meet you

“May the Wind be always at your back

“May the sun shine warm upon your face

“The rains fall soft upon your fields

“And until we meet again

“May the Goddess hold you in the hollow of Her hand.”

“How lovely,” Davan said.

99

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Not as lovely as my lady,” he told her.

At the entry to the Great Hall, they turned and waved goodbye to their guests then like two rambunctious children ran for the wide sweeping stairway that led to their chamber—a chamber Davan had yet to see—with Davan’s long train and veil gathered up in her arm in a silken bunch.

Davan’s hand in his, Cair led her up the staircase and down the long corridor until they reached his door. Opening it, he swung his bride into his arms, carried her—

laughing and squealing with delight—over the threshold and then kicked the door shut behind them.

Striding to the center of the room, he lowered her to her feet then reached out to cup her face between his hands. He searched her lovely face, memorizing every freckle, every mole and every feature. His thumbs stroked across her full lips.

“
Tá grá agam duit
,” he said, his voice husky.

Davan did not need him to translate the phrase for the meaning was there in his gaze. “I love you, too,” she responded.

He lifted her face to his and kissed her gently then pulled her against him and into the protection of his strong arms. “I never imagined I would say that to a woman and mean it,” he confessed. “At least not sober.”

“I can’t believe we’ve known one another so short a time yet have such strong feelings toward one another. How can that be, Cair?”

“Perhaps we knew each other in a past life,” he suggested. “Fated loves are destined to find one another time and time again even against great odds.”

“Or despite broken eggshells,” she teased.

He laughed. “I swear the moment I saw you trampling on those eggs I felt something twist inside me. I didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time but now I can’t help but wonder if it didn’t trigger some ancient memory in my soul.”

“If someone had told me a month ago I would be standing in the bedroom of The Black Sun, I’d have had them committed for observation,” she said, running her palms over the front of his dress uniform jacket.

Cair’s arms were hooked around her waist, his forehead against the top of her head.

“My rep preceded me, eh?”

“The entire universe knows of you, milord. Your reputation is as widespread as The Burgon of the Aduaidh,” she replied. “I was a first-year student at the Fleet Medical Academy when you were graduating with honors and being awarded Deathwielder status across the quad. I even came to see you accept that sword you are wearing right now.”

Cair lifted his head. “You were at my graduation?”

“I couldn’t see much because of so many people on hand, but aye, I was there.”

“And the large Vid-Cast screen was acting up as I recall.”

“Solar interference, I think.”

100

Pleasure’s Foehn

“Aye,” he said. “I remember.”

She put her hands on the top button of his jacket and unbuttoned it. “I wanted to get a look at you because I’d heard you were an exceptionally handsome man.” She moved to the next button.

“And you wanted to see if that was true,” he said.

“That I did.”

She worked her way through the remaining buttons then slid her hands over the silk of his collarless pristine white shirt. “Aren’t you overly warm, milord?”