Their laughter broke the last of Cuchulainn's uncomfortable silences. This time when Brighid swung into her traveling pace he kept his mount beside her.
"You should do that more often," he said.
"Do what? Offend and shock small groups of people?"
He grinned. "I meant laugh. You don't laugh enough."
"I think I've laughed more since I came to MacCallan Castle than I have since I was a child." She smiled at him. "Did you know that your laughter was one of the things I missed most about you when your soul was shattered?"
"It was a dark time for me," he said. "I don't think I realized how dark until I was whole again."
She studied his strong profile, not wanting to remember how close he had been to ending his life. The thought upset her then - now it sickened her.
"You surprised me back there," she said, needing to change the subject.
"Did I?" His grin was back. "Surprised that I announced that you're a Dhianna centaur?"
"No, not really. Just yesterday you vowed to cherish my name as if it were your own. You're not a man who would take such vows lightly."
"Right you are, my beautiful Huntress."
Her lips tilted up at the familiar endearment. "I was surprised that you announced our marriage."
"Did you think it was something I would hide?"
"I hadn't really thought about it, but hearing you say it was...well...nice," she said. "I wanted you to know that."
"I'm proud that you are my wife, Brighid. Things have happened so quickly, I don't think I've done this properly."
"This?" She arched a questioning brow.
"This wooing of you - courting you." His voice deepened and his turquoise eyes met hers. "This ritual of lovemaking."
"Oh." The way he was looking at her reminded her of her erotic dream. She pushed down the nervous flutter that threatened to mix up her words. By the Goddess, he was so damned handsome! "You were doing fine last night."
She saw his jaw tighten, but he didn't turn away. "I should have talked to you when I came back to camp. The truth is you hurt my pride, and I didn't handle it well."
"The truth is," she said quickly, "that I shocked myself and I didn't handle it well."
"Shocked yourself?"
"I forgot you're not a centaur."
"You forgot?" He tried unsuccessfully not to smile.
"So you can imagine that it was a shock for me to feel your..."
"Butt?" he provided.
"Exactly," she said.
"Harrumph." He studied her, obviously trying to decide what to say and what not to say. "Then you were just surprised. You weren't disappointed and - "
"If you ask me again if I'm repulsed by you I'm going to use part of this centaur body you seem to be so fond of and kick you squarely in your very manly butt."
"That would be hard to do while I'm sitting on this saddle."
"One of the first virtues a Huntress learns is patience." She smiled sweetly at him.
"I should have kissed you back there while the entire inn was watching," he said, grinning at her.
"Yes," she said, flipping her silver-blond hair over her shoulder. "You should have."
When they came to the creek, twilight was shading the roadside vineyards with the colors of evening.
"The horses are done in - it's almost dark. I think we've pushed enough for today," Cuchulainn said.
Brighid nodded and eased her ground-eating canter to a trot and finally, with a sigh, she slowed to a walk. Even the echo of her hooves crossing the small, arched bridge sounded tired. She noticed the two horses pricked their ears at the moving water.
"Might as well camp down there." She gestured to the bank of the creek. It was flat and lined with delicate weeping willows and the emerald green of water-loving grass.
"Anywhere that's not moving looks good to me right now," Cu said.
Brighid noted the shadows under his eyes and the two-day-old beard. The warrior definitely looked tired. "If you get the firewood and take care of the horses, I'll get out the pork and the wine."
"You have a deal," he said.
Brighid thought about how well they worked together as she unloaded the saddlebags and got out the cooking implements. Since the tension between them had broken, the day had been a pleasure. Yes, they had been traveling at a difficult pace, but he had been beside her, talking and laughing, and then, later, as evening had fallen and they'd been too tired to speak he'd just been there, beside her. He was a good companion - a good man - and in spite of their obvious differences, they fit well together.
Cuchulainn dumped a load of broken branches in the middle of the ring of rocks she'd gathered to mark their campfire. "I'm taking the horses to the creek." He sniffed at himself, making her smile. "And I do believe I'll take myself to the creek, too."
"Good idea. You smell like a horse."
His laughter drifted back to her on the warm night breeze. It was different between them tonight. Easier.
They'd soldered their bond.
When he led the horses back from the creek she glanced up from the frying slices of pork to smile at him, and her stomach tensed. His hair was wet. He'd put on a fresh linen shirt. A new kilt was wrapped haphazardly around his waist. And his face was clean shaven. He grinned and rubbed his chin.
"Rumor has it you prefer your men clean-shaven."
"There is only one man I prefer," she said, holding his gaze. "And I like him exactly as he is - shaven or un." She tossed him the wineskin. "It's my turn in the creek."
He watched her move out of the firelight and into the gentle glow of an early moon, thinking she must be the most graceful creature in all of Partholon. He was supposed to be minding the pork, but he could see her as she took off her vest and entered the creek. He couldn't take his eyes from her. She found the same spot in which he'd bathed, an area that had been beaver-dammed into a nice-size pool. The water was up to her withers. He watched as she turned to face him. In the silver moonlight she looked like a lake goddess - part human, part divine. She made his body feel hot and heavy, and his soul feel incredibly light.
She belonged to him, and he to her. And anyone who didn't like it could just be damned.
They spoke very little as they ate, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. They sat close to each other, so that when they passed the wineskin back and forth it was easy for their bodies to brush against one another. No words were needed for what was happening between them - only looks and touches.
When they were finished eating, instead of reclining beside her against his saddle as he had the night before, Cuchulainn went to one of his saddlebags. Curious, she saw the firelight catch on whatever he held in his hand. But he didn't return to her right away. Instead he bowed his head and she noted the tension in his shoulders. Then he drew a deep breath, and took his place beside her.
"I have something for you. I meant to give it to you last night, but..." He moved his shoulders. "Last night..."
"Last night didn't end as it should have," she said. "Tonight will be different."
"Tonight you should have this." He held up the silver necklace and let the turquoise stone dangle.
"It's Brenna's stone," she gasped, cupping the blue-green rock in her hand.
"It's your stone now. She gave it to you. I think she would want you to wear it." He placed it over her head so that the stone hung between her breasts. "I've not felt her presence since the day she was killed, but I want to believe that she would approve of us."
Brighid closed her eyes, trying to sift through the rush of her mixed emotions. "She came to me, Cu."
"What!"
"In my dream, like you did when your soul was shattered. We met at MacCallan Castle. She told me that she'd given me the turquoise stone and she also said she wouldn't be haunting MacCallan Castle."
Brighid opened her eyes and looked through tears at her husband. "She said it wouldn't be good for any of us if she did."
"What else did she say?" His face had gone very still, and he was keeping his voice carefully controlled, but Brighid could hear the pain in his words.
"She said she was happy, and that she had fulfilled her destiny." Brighid managed a weak, half smile.
"Her scars were gone, Cu."
He bowed his head and she could see the tears that fell, glistening, onto the blue and green of his kilt.
"She didn't talk with me for very long. She just made me give her my oath, and then she was gone."
"Your oath?" He raised his head and wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand.
"She made me swear that I would keep an open mind to the impossible," Brighid's voice had dropped almost to a whisper.
A single tear made its way down Cuchulainn's face. "So she knew about us."
The Huntress nodded. "And she approved. She said that she was leaving you to me, freely and without any hesitation." Brighid's laugh sounded choked. "It was the night we were at Guardian Castle. I thought she was talking about your soul retrieval. It was only yesterday that I realized she knew I loved you, even before I knew it myself."
"And when did you know it?"
"The first time I kissed you." Gently she brushed the tear from his cheek. "I'm not her, Cu. I'm not as good as she was, not as kind, not as compassionate. But I'm loyal and I'm faithful. And I do love you."
"Brenna's gone," he said through a throat thickened with emotion. "I didn't handfast with you because I wanted you to be like her."
"Why did you, Cu?"
He took her hand and kissed it. "Because you hold a piece of my soul, my beautiful Huntress. And to be whole, I need to be near you."
He kissed her with the salt of tears mixed with the intoxicating taste of man. She drank him in and wondered if she would ever be able to get enough of him.
"I dreamed of you last night," he said as his mouth moved to the hollow of her neck.
"I dreamed of you, too," she said, busying her hands with untying the lacings of his shirt.
"I came to you in the fog," he said.
She paused, fingers still at the lacings of his shirt. "And you were naked."
He lifted his lips from her skin and met her eyes. "A woman's voice told you to speak what was in your heart."
"And I told you that I wanted you. All of you." Her hand touched his face. "It was more than a dream."
"Yes."
"The woman's voice. I think it was the Goddess," she said.
He smiled. "I think you're right."
"I want to see you again. Like you were last night."
"Naked?"
She nodded. "I'm no silly young virgin. I won't pretend that I haven't had my share of centaur lovers, but I've never seen a naked man before. Not this close. Not like this. I mean, except for last night in my...our dream." She drew in a deep breath. "I want to see you."
"Harrumph," he grunted.
She raised one brow at him. "Are you being shy, or do you not want to be naked with me?"
"Neither," he said. "I'm just..." He hesitated, and then ran his hand through his hair and gave her a little chagrined smile. "This is new to me, too. I've had lovers before, you know that, plenty of them. But none of them have been centaurs. I'm not sure - "
He broke off when she pressed her fingers against his lips. "How about we both stop thinking so much."
The smile that lit his face transformed him from hesitant lover to rakish young warrior. "Makes sense.
Love has little to do with thinking anyway."
Still smiling, Cuchulainn stood and with a quick, practiced movement he unwrapped the kilt from around his waist and pulled it away so that he stood before her, naked.
Brighid swallowed. Her eyes moved down from his face to the broad width of his chest, which was handsome and familiar - normal. He could easily have been a centaur male. In his torso he carried a centaur's power and grace. But he wasn't a centaur, she told herself, he wasn't and he would never be.
Get used to it. Accept him for what he is, as he clearly accepted her. She held her breath and let her eyes drop.
His legs were long and muscular. She'd seen quite a bit of them before, of course. He wore a kilt often and that left them bare from his knees down. But she'd never before seen his thighs or the muscular ridges that covered his buttocks and dipped fluidly in at his waist. And she'd never seen his naked manhood.
"I wish you'd say something," Cu said.
She let her breath out in a puff. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be."
"Well that's certainly flattering," he said.
She reached out and caught his wrist. "I'm really not very good at this," she sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that you aren't as scary as I thought you would be. Naked, I mean."
"Scary? You're scared of me?"
"A little. I just wasn't completely sure what to expect. Last night it was all sensation and heat. Nothing was very clear." Her eyes dropped back to below his waist. "Tonight everything is very clear."
"And that makes you afraid of me," he said, shifting her grip so he could lace his fingers with hers.
"Now that you're here, in the flesh, in front of me, I don't think fear is the right word for what I'm feeling." Hesitantly, she touched his thigh and let her fingers play over the thickness of his muscle as she watched his body stir and react.
"What is the right word for what you're feeling?" His voice sounded strained.
She glided her hand up so that it smoothed over his tight, flat stomach. "Fascination..." she breathed.
"Your body fascinates me. It has for a long time, much longer than I was willing to admit to myself."
When she took his hard length in her hands he gasped and her eyes flew to his. "If you want me to stop you'll have to tell me."
"I don't want you to stop," he rasped.
She didn't want to stop. That her touch, just the smallest flick of her tongue or stroke of her hand, could effect him so profoundly made her feel powerful and passionate. It was something that went beyond centaur or woman. Exploring Cuchulainn's body made her revel in her own femininity. She stroked his amazing, fascinating length of hardness sheathed in skin the texture of silk. When she brought him to climax with her hands, and later with her mouth, she found a different kind of passion than she'd experienced with centaur lovers. She knew the joy of her lover's pleasure, and she reveled in how his satisfaction touched the very core of her being.
That night they slept dreamlessly, hands linked together, bodies pressed so close that in the darkness it was hard to tell where man and woman ended and centaur began.