“Now what?” Bern whispered to Ginger.
“You say something about accepting the kingship for the love of the Mother and the fertility of the land, and pull the sword from the ground.”
“Okay, then.” He began to step forward, hand out to take the hilt of the sacred blade.
“Wait!” a man shouted from the crowd before Bern could touch the sword.
“Now what?” Bern said, turning toward the man who came rushing forward.
“I challenge!” the man shouted, coming up to glare at Bern.
“Oh, crap,” Ginger muttered. “I forgot about Lanc.”
“Who the hell is Lanc?” Bern demanded.
She pointed at the broad-shoulder, dark-haired man. “He’s this druid from Brittany that’s been trying to get me to run off with him.”
Bern rounded on her. “What? You weren’t going to mention that there’s this other guy who wants to skewer me tonight?”
“You’re jealous.”
“Yes!”
She grinned. “Oh, that’s so cute. Don’t worry. You’re more than a match for him.”
“I challenge!” Lanc shouted again. “Fight me for your kingship!”
Bern gestured at the challenger. “Hold on, I’ll be right with you. What is this guy to you?” he demanded of Ginger.
“Nothing. He’s one of a group of druids going around trying to recruit psychics to come back to Brittany. They’re trying to keep the old religion alive back home.”
“So, he doesn’t want to have sex with you?”
“Not as far as I—”
“Yes, I do!” Lanc cut her off.
“Oh, stop it,” Ginger told him.
“Fight me for her!” Lanc insisted. The crowd was beginning to shout for the battle to begin as well.
“Okay,” Bern said. Without even stopping to take a breath, he turned around and hit the man in the jaw.
Lanc went down, but was up again almost instantly.
Bern took a step back and smiled, glad that the opposition had some fight in him. It was strange, almost as strange as being in another place and time than the one he’d been born to, but he was glad to have some competition. He wanted Ginger, wanted to properly claim the woman as his. Fighting for her hand felt, in some atavistic way, right. Deep in his gut, deep in his heart, he knew Ginger was a woman worth fighting for.
The druid was a big, fit guy with some hand-to-hand skills. They circled, then sparred against each other, flesh and muscle straining, moving through firelight and shadow while the crowd cheered and shouted. Sweat stung Bern’s eyes, and he tasted blood when Lanc got past his guard once to strike him in the face. Excitement built deep in Bern’s gut and the clarity that only came with combat focused his whole attention on the struggle.
For a while he almost forgot the purpose of the challenge while he concentrated on the fight. Then he caught sight of Ginger. She was flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement that sent a zing of lust straight to Bern’s groin. But her arms were tensely crossed, and she also looked annoyed.
“Enjoying yourself?” she called sarcastically when she had his attention.
The momentary distraction almost cost him, but he caught Lanc’s sudden kick out of the corner of his eye and quickly countered. He ended up with a hard foot grazing his thigh as he turned. He returned the favor with a hard kick to Lanc’s solar plexus that brought the man down.
Enough of this toying with his prey.
When Lanc tried to struggle up again, Bern knocked him unconscious.
Ginger rushed up to him “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned, and kissed her, pulling her tightly against him. “Never better.” The loincloth left nothing to her imagination about how he was feeling. The cheering crowd faded away from his attention as he concentrated only on the woman in his arms.
Her hand brushed against the erection straining against the soft leather. Then she pried herself out of his tight embrace. “Not yet.”
“Oh, come on!” he complained. But he understood when she pointed toward the sword buried in the ground. He laughed. “Right. Well, at least I don’t have to pull it out of a stone.”
“Uh…”
“What?”
She looked at him strangely, and asked, “Doesn’t Bern mean ‘bear’?”
“Yeah…” He crossed to the sword. Bits of earth clung to the blade as he pulled it out and held it up for all to see. He waited for the cheering to die down, then shouted, “For Britain and the White Lady!”
The roar this time was deafening.
“Must have sounded good,” he murmured.
Ched came up to him, taking both him and Ginger by the hand. A trio of young women accompanied him. One of the girls held a stag-horn headdress. The other girls made quick work of stripping off his and Ginger’s clothes.
After fastening the headdress on Bern, Ched turned to the crowd and proclaimed, “Behold the queen and king of summer. This mating will bring fertility to the land! Let the festival begin!”
“You know, I’m beginning to think—” Ginger started.
“Don’t.” Bern grabbed her and kissed her.
He swung his naked lover up into his arms and covered her mouth with his. While his tongue probed inside that sweet, responsive warmth he carried her to the cloth-covered mound of grass and flowers that was to serve as both bed and altar for them to mate upon.
“Put me down!” she demanded.
“Don’t chicken out on me now,” he pleaded.
Ginger laughed wickedly. “Not a chance.” She remembered his directions to just look at him, but the crowd was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She wanted to taste him, and that was what she did.
The crowd cheered. A wave of raw sexual energy washed over her. The lust channeled by the masses shot through her, and she projected it back to the people around them. In that moment the goddess filled her, and she worshipped the god of summer and king of the land with all the fervor and passion due him.
Bern pushed her gently onto her back on the soft, fragrant altar. He knelt over her, poised at the moist opening of her vagina. He waited while her hips rose pleadingly.
“Now!” she demanded.
But he didn’t move until her gaze finally met his. “The night is just beginning,” he told her.
Then he entered her, and his worship of the goddess began in earnest.
“Ahem.”
The embarrassed throat-clearing, followed by a second voice demanding, “Cover your shame, woman!” was the last thing Ginger expected to hear after the night she’d enjoyed.
Besides, she wasn’t sure how shame was supposed to be covered, especially when what she felt was marvelous. All right, she was sore and tender in places, and rather hung over, though not in the having-drunk-too-much-alcohol way. Who knew too much great sex could make you groggy?
Could you have too much great sex?
If it could be done, she’d done it tonight.
“Colonel, sir,” the embarrassed voice whispered. “Excuse me for waking you up, but—”
“Rouse yourself, man!” the other voice boomed.
Ginger giggled. “Please don’t,” she murmured. “Not on my account. Not just yet, anyway.”
“Wha? What?” Bern muttered.
She felt his breath brush her cheek when he spoke, and realized that he was the warm weight lying half on top of her. The cool morning breeze skimmed across the rest of her, teasing one bare nipple to a hard peak. Maybe that was the shame the guy was talking about. Was that any way to talk to the goddess’s own—
That voice…There was something familiar about it…
“Is that you, Dr. White?”
Ginger’s eyes flew open and she caught sight of a familiar, concerned face.
“Sergeant Kaye?” Oh, good Lord, she was naked in front of a colleague! She didn’t recognize the man standing next to him, but the stranger was frowning down at her with utter disgust written all over his face.
“His name’s Percy Perkins, and he’s a jerk,” Bern whispered. He sat up and said, “I hope you brought us some clothes, Kaye.”