Dragon of the Island (5 page)

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Authors: Mary Gillgannon

Tags: #wales, #dark ages, #king arthur, #historical romance, #roman britain, #sensual romance, #mary gillgannon, #celtic mysticism

BOOK: Dragon of the Island
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“What do you think, Aurora, of your
bridegroom?”

She flushed crimson. How foolish she
was—sizing him up, trying to decide if he pleased her. It hardly
mattered if he appealed to her or not. She was stuck with him.

He fixed her with a sly smile. “I had not
thought you to be so shy—not after your turn as a serving girl
yesterday. What did you hope to gain by spying on me?”

“I was not spying,” she answered
indignantly. “It is not unusual for a young woman to wait upon her
father’s guests!”

“Perhaps not. But unintroduced and dressed
in rags?” Maelgwn shook his head. “Your behavior suggests deceit,
but it could well be you are not to blame. I imagine your father
put you up to it.”

“No! My father had nothing to do with it! It
was my idea, mine alone,” Aurora answered, anxious to avoid any
impugning of her father’s honor. “I defied him and didn’t dress for
dinner but offered my services in the kitchen instead.”

“Why?”

Maelgwn was looking at her with a studied
interest that made her throat go dry.

“I don’t know. I guess I was curious.”

“Curious?” Maelgwn raised his eyebrows
slightly. “That is an acceptable answer, I suppose. I must admit I
am curious about you as well. Perhaps we should sit down and get to
know one another better.” He gestured toward a bench beneath an old
apple tree. Aurora nodded and followed him to the bench, listening
almost hypnotized to the soft sound of his sword shifting beside
him as he walked.

She sat beside him awkwardly, and he turned
and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her face so he gazed
directly into her eyes.

“It is important you know, Aurora, that I
hate deceit. I won’t tolerate lying and manipulation.”

She nodded, sure that the lump of fear in
her throat would choke her if she tried to speak. His eyes bored
into her with deadly intensity, as if seeking to probe her very
soul. As much as she wanted to look away, she held his gaze. She
had done nothing wrong, and she wouldn’t yield to his shameless
attempt to intimidate her.

After a moment, Maelgwn smiled again, his
hard features thawing.

“But other than that, I see no reason we
shouldn’t enjoy one another. You are a beautiful woman, and I,
despite my reputation, am not unappreciative of beauty.” His hand
left her neck and moved up to lightly caress her cheek. Aurora
suppressed a shiver. It was unnerving to have this man touch her so
delicately. She could not forget the raw power, the ironlike
strength she sensed in his lithe, graceful body She had never been
so close to a man like this—a hard, taut-muscled warrior.

His fingers moved to her hair, deftly
unpinning one of the thick, coiled braids.

“What are you doing?”

“I prefer your hair long and loose—as it was
yesterday.”

Aurora pushed his hand away in exasperation.
Her sisters had gone to a great deal of trouble to fix her hair as
befitted a Roman British princess, and now he was ruining it. She
paused when she looked at Maelgwn’s face. His eyes were rapt, his
lips slightly parted. She could sense his desire, and it ignited
something in her—some proud attempt to bedazzle him. She reached up
with trembling fingers and undid her hair herself, smiling in
gratification as his eyes grew dark with emotion.

“There, is that better?”

“Aye, much.”

His lips came down on hers. His mouth was
soft and moist and insistent. She was startled when Maelgwn licked
her lips lightly and then pushed his tongue into her mouth. No one
had ever kissed her like this before. It felt strange, but not
unpleasant. A little shiver ran down her body, and Maelgwn used the
movement to pull her closer to him. Now she could feel not only his
mouth upon hers, but his strong arms around her. He gripped her
tightly, possessively. He was much bigger than Marcus, but smelled
faintly the same, the masculine odor of leather and horses.

It was odd how she could feel his kisses
through her whole body. She could not get close enough to him, and
she was almost relieved when he pulled her awkwardly on his lap.
She found herself kissing him back, opening her mouth and touching
his probing tongue with her own.

She was intensely aware of his hard thighs
beneath her and his chest pressing against her shoulders. The world
was swimming around and around. She could not seem to think of
anything except the burning ache in her belly. It was spreading,
gradually moving up to her breasts. Maelgwn seemed to know it was
there, for he reached his hand down her dress to touch her tender,
swollen nipples—first one and then the other.

“That is enough!” Constantine’s furious
voice finally penetrated Aurora’s dazed state, and she looked up to
see her father’s face ablaze with fury.

“I have agreed to give you my daughter for a
wife, Maelgwn, not a concubine.”

“We were just finding out how we pleased
each other.”

Maelgwn smiled his mocking smile and slowly
helped

Aurora up. She was near choked with
humiliation, and indignant tears stung her eyes. What could she
have been thinking of, to let Maelgwn touch her so intimately? Her
father’s viselike grip on her arm as he led her from the garden
reinforced her shame. During their first private moments together,
Maelgwn had not treated her as a princess at all, but instead pawed
her as if she were a harlot.

Despite her shame, Aurora could not resist
one backwards glance. Maelgwn was still standing there, watching
her, and on his face was a look that sent another hot thrill down
her body.

Chapter 4

It was late afternoon when Aurora and her
father led the procession to the open meadow where the wedding was
to be held. Maelgwn had insisted that all the soldiers and
townspeople be allowed to attend the ceremony, and the unused
battlefield had been converted into a makeshift chapel to
accommodate the crowd. The marble altar from the town church was
disassembled and transported to the field, along with a large
bronze standing cross. Around the area where the ceremony was to
take place, posts were driven into the ground and decorated with
banners, and twined with summer flowers.

A gay and festive-looking parade rode out
from Viroconium. Constantine and his family were decked in all
their wealth, with Lady Cordelia and Aurora’s sisters resplendent
in bright summer gowns, their necks and wrists gleaming with gold
and jewels. They rode in wagons drawn by Constantine’s best horses,
whose harnesses were adorned with ribbons and flowers. Behind
Constantine’s household followed the other noble families of
Viroconium. At the end of the procession came the townspeople,
farmers and other freeman. Only servants, slaves and those too old
or infirm to make the journey to the wedding site remained behind
in the town.

Although Constantine would no doubt have
given him permission to attend, Marcus was one of those who did not
join the procession. Aurora had one last glimpse of her friend,
watching her as they left the villa, and the look Marcus gave her
showed such pain, it seemed to enter her heart like a sword. She
turned away, sick with longing, and her father reached over and
pulled on her horse’s bridle to urge her along.

The journey to the field seemed to take no
time at all, and with frightening swiftness they were beyond the
town’s gates and heading for open country. Aurora caught sight of
the deep green of the forest at the edge of the field and repressed
the urge to spur her horse and bolt into the nearby woods. She was
leaving behind forever the innocence and freedom of her childhood,
and something inside her rebelled at her new and uncertain life.
The sight of Maelgwn’s soldiers spread out over the field, waiting
for them, unnerved her further. For the last few paces to the
wedding site, Aurora closed her eyes, set her jaw and allowed her
horse to follow her father’s gray stallion.

In moments, the pony halted and Aurora’s
father called her name. She opened her eyes to see Maelgwn standing
a few feet away. He looked magnificent. He wore a dark blue tunic
that matched his dramatic eyes and turned them a cold lovely
blue—like sapphires. Around his neck was a glittering gold torque,
and his wrists shone with the ceremonial jewelry of a high king of
one of the ancient tribes of Britain. He smiled at her warmly.

Aurora’s father helped her off her horse and
presented her to her bridegroom. Maelgwn’s strong, hard fingers
closed over Aurora’s, and he led her to where the priest stood. The
ceremony was a blur, but somehow she responded at the appropriate
moments. Soon it was over, and Maelgwn was looking at her with a
triumphant, self-satisfied grin. She allowed him a kiss, but could
not find it in herself to respond. Now that it was over and she
belonged to him, her thoughts were even more mutinous. It was bad
enough that her father had given her away like a possession, but
that Maelgwn had chosen to have the whole town and all his men
present to witness her humiliation rankled sorely.

They rode back to town for the wedding
feast. Maelgwn’s black stallion set a brisk, impatient pace, but
Aurora had little difficulty keeping up with him, for instead of
her brown pony, she rode a graceful mare of smoky gray. Pathui, as
the horse was called, was a wedding gift from Maelgwn. The mare had
a lovely, silky gait and seemed trained to please.

The wedding feast was lavish. Whole roast
oxen were carved, as well as several pigs, accompanied by tender
fowl, wheat and barley bread dripping with honey, summer vegetables
in sauces, spiced cakes and colorful pastries. The wine flowed
freely, and despite a few tense confrontations between the soldiers
of Viroconium and the Cymru the atmosphere was mainly festive and
cheerful.

Aurora sat beside Maelgwn, too angry to look
at her husband. She had learned soon after arriving at the great
hall that Maelgwn was not going to allow her to bring even a maid
with her to Gwynedd. Her father told her that he had begged Maelgwn
to reconsider, but he had refused. Aurora was furious. It was going
to be hard enough for her to adjust to her new country. To deny her
the companionship and assistance of a servant from her homeland
seemed pointlessly cruel.

Fortunately, Aurora was able to hide her
anger from Maelgwn with little difficulty. The constant procession
of people to their table—friends of her parents coming to say
good-bye and soldiers begging kisses—made it almost impossible for
the newly married couple to do more than exchange the most banal
pleasantries. Maelgwn glanced curiously at her from time to time,
but Aurora kept her eyes averted, hoping he would assume her
silence was the result of shyness rather than hostility.

Aurora was so careful to ignore Maelgwn that
she was never really sure when he left the feast. Sometime late in
the evening she turned to ask her husband when they would be
leaving in the morning and realized he was no longer at her side.
Looking around the room, she was startled to find that there was
not a Cymru soldier left in the place. Her first reaction was
fear—had Maelgwn changed his mind about wanting her as his wife?
Did he mean to leave her behind when he returned to homeland? The
thought panicked her. Where only a few hours ago she would have
been relieved to be left behind, now the idea mortified her. It was
bad enough to be forced into marriage with her father’s enemy,
worse yet to be rejected afterwards.

Aurora’s mother saw her confusion and was
beside her daughter immediately.

“Come dear, we must finish packing your
things.”

“But Maelgwn...”

“He has gone to prepare to leave tomorrow.
You will be taken to his tent when all your things are ready.”

Aurora’s fury returned with a vengeance.
Maelgwn had not taken leave of her or said good-bye. Instead, he
had left instructions for her to be brought to him, as if she were
a servant or one of his possessions!

Aurora’s mother led her to a waiting wagon,
and Constantine and the rest of her family rode back with her to
the villa. While servants gathered Aurora’s possessions for the
journey to Gwynedd, she said her tearful good-byes. Her sisters
were weeping openly, and when her father pulled her aside, his face
was a rigid mask.

“Aurora, my little one,” he whispered.
Aurora looked at her father, trying to be brave. Constantine was
not a handsome man, and with his thinning hair and hawkish Roman
nose he looked every one of his forty years. Still, his regal
dignity made Aurora’s heart soar with pride. Her father was a king,
as great a man as Maelgwn.

Constantine smoothed a lock of unruly hair
back from her forehead and spoke. “This is not the marriage that I
would have wished for you, Aurora, but it cannot be helped. I know
that you will remember who you are—a princess of the Cornovii and a
descendant of the great emperor Theodosius. I expect you to conduct
yourself as a noble lady and bring honor to your people.” He paused
and the formality left his face. His eyes glittered with tears.

“I have asked Maelgwn to take care of you,
and he has promised me he will. But I want you to know—should he
mistreat you in any way, send me a word, and I will avenge you—even
if I must sacrifice my own life and the lives of my people to do
it!”

Aurora nodded and blinked back her tears.
Her father had done what he had to do, but he still loved her. He
was asking her to do her part, to honor her husband and do nothing
to endanger the treaty. She must forget her anger at Maelgwn and
attempt to be a good wife.

Maelgwn’s men had arrived at the villa gate,
and Aurora gave her father a quick kiss and mounted her new mare.
As she rode out the villa gate for the second time that day, Aurora
realized what a beautiful summer night it was, full of the soft
sounds of insects and the bright shimmer of moonlight. They
traveled past the town and then out into the open field. Before
them lay Maelgwn’s army camp. The many campfires and torches seemed
to reflect the multitude of stars in the sky above, and the thought
of so many soldiers out there on the plain filled Aurora with
awe.

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