Page 89 of Laird of Steel
Even more exciting was watching the men trying to leap over the bonfires. More than a few caught fire and had to roll in the sod to douse the flames. Indeed, many a maidservant secretly cursed Beltane for all the burned clothes in need of mending afterward.
But Merraid didn’t mind. It was all good fun.
What shedidmind were the drunken lads who used the excuse of Beltane to flex their own fertility. The combination—free-flowing ale, uncontrolled fire, and rituals encouraging fruitfulness—was dangerous. Especially for lasses who were tipsy themselves and not inclined to resist the advances of enthusiastic knaves.
Which was why Merraid had appointed herself their protector on Beltane. She abstained from ale to keep a clear head and watched carefully over any stray lambs who were in danger of being devoured by wolves.
It was what Gellir had done for her four years ago. Saving her from brutes who saw her, not as a young lady deserving of respect, but simply a vessel for their lust. Gellir had devoted himself to helping the helpless. And that had been inspiring.
Her vigilance this eve also kept her from dwelling too much on how magnificent Gellir looked silhouetted in front of the towering flames. The blaze rose high above his broad shoulders and gilded the top of his dark hair. If she squinted just right, she could imagine he was a great black dragon, breathing the fire to life.
But as she gazed on in amusement, a shadow of guilt crept over her. Her smile drooped. She shouldn’t be staring at another woman’s bridegroom.
Where was Lady Carenza anyway? Why was she not standing beside him?
The lady was one of the stray lambs Merraid should be looking after. Friendly and vulnerable were a bad combination. That Carenza was also beautiful made her an even more desirable target.
Scouring the clearing, she saw no sign of Lady Carenza. But she found Feiyan, watching the fires with Laird Dougal.
“Pardon, m’lady, but have ye seen Lady Carenza?”
“Och aye, she went to bed hours ago.”
“To bed?”
“Aye. She was feeling poorly again. I fear Beltane was too much excitement for her.”
Merraid nodded. But she had to admit she was disappointed. If Carenza collapsed every time there was a wee bit of excitement, Gellir would lead a dull life indeed. God forbid the lady should ever see him fight in a tournament. One scratch might well be her undoing.
She hoped someone had returned with the lady to light her fire. All the hearths and candles had been extinguished in preparation for Beltane.
The clan folk were dispersing now. The less adventurous—those who weren’t creeping off into the forest for mischief—plucked flaming branches from the bonfires to rekindle their hearths with new summer fire.
Her brow creased. She should probably make sure the lady was safe. In another sennight, Carenza would be in Gellir’s care, body and soul. But for now, she was still Merraid’s responsibility. The last thing Merraid needed was for Gellir’s bride to freeze to death before the wedding because no one had fired up her hearth.
She approached the crackling bonfire with caution and pried loose a modest sized branch to serve as a torch. Then she began the trek back to the castle.
She had just stepped onto the path leading through the forest when Gellir swept up behind her.
“Merraid.”
Foolish pleasure flushed her cheeks at the sound of his voice. Hiding it as best she could, she turned toward him. But the grave expression on his face sobered her at once.
Something was wrong. Had something happened to Carenza after all? Had she been attacked? Had she frozen to death? Had she run off?
“Aye?” she whispered, her heart pounding.
“I have somethin’ t’ tell you.”
Now she detected the ale on his breath. The slurring of his words. The subtle swaying of his body.
“Ye’re sotted.”
“Aye,” he said grimly, “that I am.”
Relief let her breathe. Amusement tugged a grin from the corner of her mouth. She’d never seen Gellir drunk before. He was a man of control. Restraint. Honor. It was against his nature to let ale cloud his judgment.
On the other hand, itwasBeltane. If ever the driven, disciplined warrior deserved a night of excess, it was this night.
