Fear-stricken, I clenched the basket and tried to calm myself. Perhaps the intruder had not noticed me yet. With luck, he or she was too far away to spy the runes carved into the handle of my bolline. I wondered if I should cast a blocking spell over myself. or a spell of protection. But there was no time.
Say that you’re gathering herbs,I thought. The task of gathering herbs is totally innocent.
Unless the intruder finds your tool of witchcraft.
I turned to confront the enemy.
And the enemy smiled at me. ’Twas a tall, solid boy, not much older than myself, and for a moment I wondered if the Goddess had sent him on a jagged bolt of lightning. Even from across the clearing his blue eyes flashed with that intensity, like the night sky lit during a storm.
Clasping the basket to my breast, I closed my eyes, then opened them, sure he would vanish just as readily as he had appeared. He did not. Instead, he came toward me, reaching up to grab an overhanging branch, then swinging closer. He landed a short space away from me, his ginger brown hair falling over one eye.
“Did I startle you?” he asked.
“No... aye, that is...” I fumbled for words, sensing that he was not a threat, at least not in the way I had feared. For my immediate sense was that he held power. not the power to persecute, but the grand, sweeping power possessed only by a blood witch. A blood witch, but from what clan? Certainly not a Wodebayne, as Síle’s coven included every living Wodebayne within miles.
“What’s that, then?” he teased. “Do you think it wise for a lass like yourself to wander these woods alone?”
“I wander these woods often, gathering herbs,” I said, trying to draw out our encounter with conversation. “Though I’ve not seen you leaping from trees.”
“I trust you’ve not seen many lads leaping from trees,” he said, hooking a thumb over his leather belt.
“You’re my first, I must admit.”
“Well, that’s certainly an honor. I’d imagine men would go to battle to be your first.” That he would imply something so intimate nearly stole my breath away. He spoke the words of a man, but the humor in his eyes was boyish and full of youth. The drawstrings of his white shirt were open at the throat, revealing a fair amount of skin turned tawny from the sun. More skin than most men laid bare, except in circles. I wondered what he would look like in a circle, his robe slipping away from those broad, tanned shoulders.
I have met my match, I thought, letting the basket drop to one arm.
Aye, he was handsome from head to toe, and his conversation had a certain cleverness that amused. But those qualities merely added to my enchantment. I was drawn to him—inexorably, irrevocably drawn to the power that swirled around him like a visiting wind.
At that moment, I didn’t know where he had come from or where he was headed, but with grave certainty I knew that I wanted to be the one to accompany him in his travels. I longed to move close to him and slide the tunic off his shoulders, touch the wall of his chest. And how would it feel to be touched by such a god. the sweet press of his lips upon mine, the shimmer of his hands over my body? I slid one hand into the pocket of my skirt and clenched the rose stone. If ever a spell were necessary, this was the time. But what were the words?
He turned and reached up to swing from the tree limb again, giving me a chance to conjure a quick spell.
I set my mind on the power I had felt swirling in my circle. Oh, Goddess. I felt the stone’s power swelling in my palm, like a quickly blossoming flower. Thank You for bringing him to me. Let him ever be drawn to me, as a man to a woman, ever in love. Ever after.
The warmth of the stone rippled up my arm and passed on through my body. I let out a gasp of shock and joy, though I think he was too caught up in showing off his climbing skills to notice. Then he turned toward me and stared.
He stared at me as if he’d only just discovered the answer to his lifelong quest.
My heart clamored with joy that the Goddess had heard me. The magickal stone was now charmed, and we were under its spell.
He slid down from the tree and rubbed his hands on his breeches. “I fear I am more lost than I realized. I thought I had strayed from the path and discovered a maiden, but I was mistaken. I seem to have wandered into an enchanted faerie world, into the realm of a dark, tiny wood nymph. A beauty with glistening black hair and eyes that hold the secrets of the night.”
I smiled, feeling myself blossom at his words. I had always viewed myself as small and plain, unworthy of much notice for my appearance. It delighted me to hear myself described so. “You are too kind. I am but a village girl, gathering herbs to make a pottage.”
He lifted the basket from my hand. “Bay leaves. anise for colic. Thyme to aid in digestion. And clover...” He pulled the basket away, teasing me. “These are enchanted herbs, my lady. Tell me, where does your circle gather?”
“I know not of a circle, but for the shape of the full moon,” I lied, reaching for my basket. But he stopped my hand with his own, and suddenly we were touching, the sensitive palms of our hands aligned like the stars of a splendid constellation.
His lips moved, forming no words, but his glittering blue eyes told a tale of surprise and desire.
And love? Had my spell worked? I looked into his eyes, begging the question.
His answer was the brush of his lips against mine, a gentle surprise followed by a rich, ripe kiss. I kissed him back, reveling in the feel of his lips on mine, rejoicing in the power that hummed when we touched. This was a passion matched only by the incredible spark I had felt in my solitary circle, and I knew at once that the Goddess was here with us. The Goddess had brought us together. It was meant to be.
And from the way his fingers gently cupped my cheek and followed the line of my jaw to my hair, from the way he held my arm securely as if he would never let go, it was clear that he knew it, too.
He squeezed my arm, letting out a small laugh. “The sun is falling. I’ll be on the road after nightfall, but I can’t bring myself to care. or to leave.”
Nightfall. Danger. Looking to the west, I saw only the orange-and-purple glow above the tree line. “I must go, too. But I cannot say good-bye. I can’t bear it.” My eyes were level with the open ties of his shirt, where a gold pentagram dangled on a leather cord. I reached out and touched it brazenly. In turn, he pressed a finger below the crook of my neck, just above my breasts.
“It will be yours,” he whispered. “For I am yours already.”
It was a startling admission, coming from a boy I’d only just met. I thought of the boys I had known in my life. None had ever sparked a flame of interest within me, despite a few awkward kisses and groping hands. More than once Meara and I had encountered village boys down by the brook. They were gawky, rough-hewn creatures who teased and chased us, always wanting to steal off into the woods with one of us. More than once I’d had to kick one of them away. Neither boy nor man had held any appeal for me.
Until now.
“Come to me tomorrow,” he said, holding my hands to his chest. “Meet me here, at the same time. Please say you will.”
“I will,” I promised, loving the way my slender fingers disappeared in his large, warm hands. He kissed my fingertips, then backed away, walking awkwardly into the woods.
“You’re going to hit your head,” I called, gesturing for him to turn around.
“But I can’t take my eyes from you,” he said.
“Then I must vanish.” I hitched up my skirts and raced out of the clearing, resolved not to turn back lest I linger in his arms forevermore. I was breathless from running and from his kisses, but I kept it up, slipping over a patch of dried mud and ignoring the brambles that caught at my stockings. I would run through the heather without shoes, roll down the rocky hills headfirst if it would get me closer to him.