The Stolen Bride. Susan Paul Spencer
other hand free of her hair. “I should not have done that.”
“Not?” she whispered. “Why? ’Tis Midsummer Night, and a man may kiss any maid who is willing.”
“This is so, but you are not any village maid.” He swept a few stray strands of hair from her forehead with a careful finger. “You are a born lady, and I naught but a commoner—far more than you can begin to know. Your father would rightly have my head did he learn that I’d taken such liberty with his daughter.” With the same finger, he lifted her chin up a bit higher. “Give me your promise, Sofia, regarding Sir Griel.”
“Kiss me again first,” she said, going up on her toes to find his lips.
Kayne firmly pushed her back down. “Nay, I have told you that I should not have done so. And I cannot trust myself to kiss you again. ’Tis because you are so innocent that you do not understand what follows such embraces. But each man has his boundaries, and I’ve nearly reached mine.”
This, rather than alarming her, as he had meant it to, only seemed to awaken her interest.
“In truth?” she asked, all amazement. “I have never been kissed before in such a way—so that it was a pleasure and not a torment. But even beyond that, ’twas very different for me than what you describe. I felt as if there was so much more to know…so much more to discover. ’Twas most exciting, Kayne, and I did not want it to end.”
He tried to push her even farther away. “Do not speak in such a manner,” he begged. “I am no saint to resist such words. Nay, I will not kiss you again, Sofia—cease—oh, very well.” He gave way as she continually strove to press nearer, and leaned down to press a firm, brief kiss upon her lips. “Now, cease climbing all about me and give me your promise, else we leave the forest this very moment.”
She subsided, and gave a wistful sigh. “Aye, Kayne, I give you my promise. If Sir Griel should offend me in any manner, I will come to you, and let you be my champion. Will you promise me, likewise, that you’ll not harm him?”
“Nay,” he replied truthfully. “I cannot do so, for I have no assurance that he will not dare his worst, for that is the manner of man he is. But I will bring him no fatal harm if it can be at all costs avoided. This I do promise, upon my honor.”
“Thank you,” she said, relief evident in her tone. She suddenly grasped his hands. “The fern blossoms! We’ve not yet found one, and soon ’twill be time to set our wishes upon the river. Hurry!”
Ten minutes of searching followed before Sofia at last cried out that she’d found one of the precious blossoms. By the time Kayne caught up to her, she had already kneeled upon the ground and spread out a delicate white linen cloth to catch the small golden flower as she pinched it from the stem.
“Now I’ve captured some of the night’s magic,” she said with satisfaction as she carefully folded the napkin and tucked it into the neckline of her surcoat. She accepted Kayne’s hand as he helped her rise to her feet.
“You will put it beneath your pillow, doubtless,” he said, then wished he hadn’t. Young maids used the supposed magic of such blossoms to bring forth dreams of the man they would one day wed—a thought Kayne didn’t enjoy thinking of when Sofia was involved.
She smiled up at him through the darkness. “Indeed, I will, Master Kayne. The magic will fade away too quickly, otherwise. But come!” She took his hand and began to tug him toward the open fields, in the direction of the river. “We must hurry to make our boats!”
A crowd had already formed along the riverbanks, and the feverish construction of small vessels made out of leaves and twigs was underway. Tiny candles were fixed in the middle of each, then lit by its owner, wished upon, and set adrift in the river. If the boat floated across the river with the candle yet burning, that particular wish would come true. If the candle went out, the sender must wait until the following year to float another wish across the water.
Some of the village children came running up as Kayne and Sofia approached, pressing crudely crafted boats into their hands and then running away. Kayne gazed at his with some dismay, wondering if it wouldn’t sink the moment it touched water, but Sofia exclaimed with delight, “’Tis perfect! Now we needn’t build our own, and can set our wishes afloat at once.”
They knelt beside the river and waited to make use of one of the many candles being passed among the festival goers. Kayne watched as Sofia lit her candle, then, holding her little boat high, closed her eyes and made her wish. When she was done she smiled, opened her eyes, and carefully set the vessel adrift. Then she offered the candle to Kayne.
“What did you wish for, that it makes you smile so?” he asked, lighting his own candle.
“I cannot tell you, and you must not speak aloud your wish, either. ’Twill not come true, else.”
Kayne didn’t believe in floating wishes any more than he believed in magic flower blossoms, but he very much wanted his wish to come true. So he didn’t tell Sofia that his wish was for the strong attraction he felt for her to fade, and silently lit his candle and set his leafy boat into the water.
Sofia’s candle floated safely to the other side of the riverbank. Kayne’s sank before it reached midway. When he dared to look at her, it was to find that she was still smiling.
They sat for a few silent moments, gazing out over the water at the small lighted boats as they floated away, turning the river into a beautiful spectacle of shimmering light.
“Hey, come to the bonfires!” someone shouted. “Tom the miller’s son has already jumped over three of them!”
The crowd moved almost as one back toward the bonfires, where the young men of the village were challenging one another’s mettle by seeing who could leap over the most bonfires unscorched, and where the young maidens were performing the yearly ritual of dancing about seven bonfires in the hope of gaining a husband. It was the most jovial part of the entire festival, which would come to an end at midnight. The musicians played loudly and merrily, and other feasters drank more ale and cheered the leapers and dancers onward. Kayne thought Sofia might leave him to join the maidens in their dancing, but she was content to remain by his side, laughing and shouting encouragement as the young people followed their different pursuits.
“You do not want to jump the bonfires?” she shouted up at him through the loud din.
He shook his head. “Nay, I’ve had enough of fire for many years to come.”
“Oh, indeed,” she replied with feeling. “You need no more scars to prove that it is so, Master Kayne.”
The noise of the festivities began to grow quiet by slow degrees, just as it had done earlier in the day, beginning at the edges of the crowd and working its way forward. Kayne, hearing it, sensed that Sir Griel had returned, as he had promised. He had hoped that it would not be so, but knew that a man like Sir Griel did not make such vows lightly—most especially not when he’d been so openly humiliated. Since he and his men had left, Kayne had been waiting for the promised return, and could only wonder that Sir Griel had chosen this late moment to make it.
It took a long time for the musicians to halt their playing, and for the young men and maidens to cease their amusements. By the time all had grown quiet, Sir Griel was standing in the midst of them, surrounded by his men. He searched the crowd slowly for Kayne, who was standing with Sofia in the shadow of a tall tree, away from the light of the bonfires.
“Kayne,” Sofia murmured, gripping his arm with both hands, “slip away now, before he finds you.”
Kayne set one of his own hands over hers and pressed reassuringly. He didn’t cherish the idea of the coming conflict, but if he did not make Sir Griel know that Sofia had a champion who would stand for her against every combatant, then the man would not leave either of them in peace.
“Wait for me here, Sofia,” he told her. “I will escort you home when this is done.”
He stepped forward, the light of the bonfires behind him,