Page 88 of Laird of Steel
Seven days made no difference. They still didn’t wish to marry.
Merraid insisted their reluctance was because that wasn’t enough time to truly know a person.
His cousin Feiyan thought he and Carenza must be blind not to recognize each other’s virtues.
Neither of them knew how he felt about Merraid. How seven days had been more than enough to knowher.How his fondness for Carenza paled in comparison with his fascination with the spirited maidservant. How he despaired of ever having a genuinely blissful union.
Still, he was on a path from which he dared not stray. Rivenloch’s allegiance and the plight of Scotland depended upon this marriage. A marriage that would take place in just over a sennight.
Tonight, however, no one was focused on his wedding. Not even pesky Feiyan.
Tonight was Beltane.
As a lad, each year, Gellir had looked forward to the gigantic blazing bonfires of Beltane. He and his cousins helped to drive the cattle between the two fires and dared each other to leap over the flames. His wee brother Ian had once thrown a powder onto the fire that had made it spark and smoke. Their mother had put a quick end to that. But the night of Beltane had always seemed full of magic and mayhem.
As a grown man, however, Gellir had little enthusiasm for superstition. He was more concerned about the real threat of war and poverty than he was of faeries and curses. He didn’t believe the ancient rituals protected crops, purified cattle, and ensured fertility. His clan had celebrated Beltane for centuries, after all, and yet some years the harvest was poor.
Still, it was a night of wild excitement and mad rulebreaking. Men drank themselves into brawls. Lads singed their arses on the flames. Lasses dipped their lashes and raised their hems. And some took the celebration of unbridled fertility as permission to cast seed about indiscriminately. It was said that bairns conceived on Beltane were blessed. More than one couple welcomed a bairn nine months after Beltane. Some legitimate. Some not.
This morn, however, Gellir had been compelled to participate in a far less thrilling ritual. Once a fearsome tournament champion, he was currently traipsing through a meadow with a basket of flowers.
According to tradition, it was a man’s duty to deck his ladylove’s window with garlands of blossoms on Beltane. And neither Feiyan nor Merraid was going to let him get away with anything short of full and enthusiastic compliance.
So he begrudgingly gathered the yellow, white, and violet blooms that dotted the lush meadow. They seemed like they would please Carenza.
He sighed. She would likely show her pleasure by collapsing in tears.
After that, he’d be required to join the rest of the clansmen in gathering the nine woods required for the bonfire. He smiled as he remembered how he and his clever cousin Adam had worked out a method for remembering them. HOARY BABE. Holly. Oak. Alder. Rowan. Yew. Briar. Aspen. Birch. And Elder.
He snapped off one final blossom before trudging across the soggy ground toward the keep. He wished Adam were here now. He could disguise himself as Gellir and take Gellir’s place at the wedding. Perhapshecould make Lady Carenza happy.
And who would make Gellir happy?
Coppery hair and clear blue eyes danced through his imagination.
He furrowed his brows. Merraid was so maddeningly close, yet completely out of reach.
The worst part was she would never know how he felt. He would marry Carenza. Take her to Rivenloch. Make bairns with her. Grow old with her. And Merraid would never know that for one sweet and glorious spring, his whole heart had belonged to her.
How could he endure that?
How could he leave her without telling her the truth?
His fist tightened on the basket. He glanced down and spied an odd blossom tucked among the violet, yellow, and white. A single marigold, scooped up in haste. A curiosity.
Merraid was like that. Unique. Brilliant. One of a kind.
In that instant, gazing down at the lovely orange petals—bold, bright, and brazen—he made up his mind.
Hewasgoing to bare his heart.
On this mystical night, full of flames and faeries and fertility rites, before he had to wed the woman he didn’t love—the woman who didn’t love him—he had to tell Merraid how he felt.
Chapter 15
Merraid loved Beltane. There was nothing quite as exhilarating as an enormous bonfire. Unless it wastwobonfires.
The flames leapt high into the air as the cowherds guided the cattle carefully between the blazes. The animals’ black bulks were stark against the bright fire. They lowed in confusion as tongues of flame threatened to lick the fur from their hide. Purified when they made the passage three times, the beasts were then driven to the summer pasture.
