He’d handfasted with her. She was his wife-his lifemate. Had they chosen to keep the ceremony private, between only the two of them and simply speak the words before Epona, the mating would have been legally binding for the space of one year. But he had negated that condition when he had asked the ritual to be witnessed by his mother. Handfastings presided over by the High Priestess of Partholon were lifetime bonds. Of course no two people would be forced to stay together if either or both truly wished to part from the other, but the breaking of a lifemating was rare.
He watched the beautiful Huntress pushing her pace. What was she thinking? Just the thought of losing his sister and his mother in the space of one day chilled him to his marrow. Should he try to get her to talk about it? He thought of how he felt after Brenna had been killed. He’d refused to speak of her. He’d run away from his memories of her. But he’d also been broken…shattered. Brighid was whole. So wouldn’t she need to vent? To remember?
His thoughts had so totally eclipsed his concentration that Cu’s mind didn’t register the darkening of the sky or the slowing of Brighid’s pace, until his gelding broke from their steady canter into a jarring trot. Reorienting himself, Cu nudged the big horse up beside the Huntress.
Brighid glanced over at him. “It’s almost full dark. I thought we should start looking for a place to camp.” She hesitated, not meeting his questioning gaze. “Or we could just slow our pace and keep going. The road is wide and well-marked. Maybe we’ll come to a village. I traveled up from the Centaur Plains on this road, but my trip was…” Her eyes narrowed in painful remembrance. She hadn’t allowed herself to think during the hasty trip from her old life. She’d pointed herself toward the promise of a future and not let anything get in her way. Now she was heading into another future, only this one was filled more with pain and danger than promise and contentment.
“It’s fine, Brighid.”
Cu’s deep voice was so normal-so ordinary-so in complete contradiction to what was going on within her head. He was just a man, talking to a woman. Not a human warrior who was freakishly mated to a centaur Huntress. Not a man joining his mate in a futile quest that would either be successful and lead them blindly into deep waters, or unsuccessful and strand them to flail about in unconsummated shallows. He was just a man-the man who cared about and accepted her. It calmed her and anchored her heaving emotions. Perhaps it shouldn’t-perhaps she was being foolish-but it did.
“Brighid,” he repeated. “We can keep traveling. The moon is nearly full, and after it rises the road will be easy to follow. But the day has been long.” He smiled. “Honestly, I’d prefer camping and beginning renewed at dawn.”
She returned his smile gratefully, feeling the ice that had been holding her emotions in check all day begin to thaw. “Do you know if there are any villages close by?”
“Mostly between here and McNamara Castle there’s nothing but vineyards and forest.” He jerked his chin to the right of the road. “We could climb to the top of the plateau. Should still be grassy up there and a decent place to camp.”
“Lead the way,” she said, relieved that she could mindlessly follow him for at least a little while.
Slowing considerably, Cuchulainn nosed his gelding between a break in the trees that lined the road. Almost immediately, the land became an incline, angling up and up until they finally emerged from a scattering of oaks and pines onto the plateau that eventually gave way to the imposing cliffs over the B’an Sea. The sun had already set, but the ocean horizon was still stained with the burned colors left by a dying sun. For a moment they simply stood quietly watching the close of another day. Then Cuchulainn dismounted and tossed the reins of the extra mount to Brighid.
“I’ll gather some firewood if you unpack the supplies. I don’t think we’ll need the tent up tonight. Sky looks clear and it’s been warm enough.”
Before she could answer, he and the buckskin gelding disappeared back into the trees. At least unpacking and setting up a temporary camp would keep her occupied. She was hungry. When had she eaten last? That morning before she lit Niam’s pyre and handfasted with Cuchulainn. Had all of that happened just this morning?
Oh, Goddess. She stopped suddenly in the middle of untying a pack. Tonight is my wedding night. The thought made her fingers slow and clumsy. Breathe, just breathe. She pulled the last pack free from the horse and gave the mare a quick, perfunctory wipe down before she hobbled her and then began pulling supplies from the packs, silently thanking Etain when she discovered the generous skins of rich red wine.
She was taking a long pull from one of the skins when Cuchulainn dropped the load of dry branches near her.
“I’ve made you turn to drink already, and we haven’t even been married one full day,” he said, smiling boyishly.
“Just thirsty,” she said.
His chuckle was more of a grunt.
“Want some?” she asked.
“Definitely-as soon as I unsaddle the gelding and settle him in. I think I’m thirsty, too.” He grinned at her and led the gelding over to where the mare was already grazing.
Nervous and uncomfortable, Brighid busied herself with building the campfire. By the time he rejoined her she had thick slabs of salted pork frying and cheese and bread laid out on a blanket.
“By the Goddess, that smells good!”
She told herself to relax and smile at him. “You wouldn’t believe the supplies wrapped away in those packs. I won’t have to hunt for days.”
“Wynne’s doing,” Cuchulainn said.
“Not the wine.” Brighid tossed a skin to him. “This has your mother’s touch all over it.”
Cuchulainn uncapped it and drank. Then he sighed in pleasure. “May Epona bless my mother for her love of fine wine.”
“And her willingness to share.”
Cu grunted his agreement before taking another drink. Then he sighed and reclined next to the Huntress near the campfire. Before long, they were both busy forking hot pork onto bread and relishing the sharp tang of the well-aged cheese. Cuchulainn was almost finished with his third helping, and was feeling relaxed and replete, when he gave a little half laugh of remembrance.
“These sandwiches will always remind me of El.”
“El? Why?” Brighid asked, clearing her mouth with another long drink of the excellent wine.
“Well, she was a loner-liked to go off by herself, especially in the years before she studied at the Temple of the Muse. Mother didn’t want to restrict her, so she let her explore, even allowed her to go all the way up to the fringes of Ufasach Marsh, under only one condition.”
“That you accompany her?”
Cuchulainn grinned. “You guessed it.” He raised the small piece that was all that remained of his last sandwich. “These were a favorite of hers whenever we went camping. I imagine she was behind making sure that Wynne included them in our provisions.”
“Nice of her to think of that,” Brighid said.
“She’s like that. She remembers small things-always has,” Cuchulainn said, his voice and face softened as he thought of his sister.
“So you two have always been close? Even when you were young?”
Cuchulainn nodded. “Always. It was just us until the twins were born when I was six and El was seven. Arianrhod and Finegas were so much younger.” He shrugged. “And they had each other.”
“Like you and El had each other,” Brighid said.
“Yes.” His smile didn’t reach the sadness in his eyes.
“I’m sorry that I’ve taken you away from her,” Brighid said slowly.
“You haven’t taken me anywhere. I handfasted with you willingly. I don’t want you to ever think otherwise. And this-” he gestured absently around them “-isn’t your fault. Neither you nor I wanted to leave MacCallan Castle, but it was the right thing to do. It was what we had to do.”