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t was good to be weary from dancing, he decided as he dropped unceremoniously upon a plush red velvet couch at the edge of the cleared floor. He was tipsy and sleepy for the head chef’s secret stash of spiked egg nog had mysteriously reappeared shortly after the children were sent to bed. Dancers were milling about after a particularly energetic reel that Mog had performed on his pipes to the accompaniment of Indigo on the fiddle. The two men could certainly belt out a tune. And Brigit had matched him step for step.
Teleri was curled in his arms now as he recovered, her lips brushing his chin and cheek playfully. She had eschewed the heady drink and only took to the floor for the quieter dances, but she was giddy with happiness. She was his golden angel, arrayed like a queen in white silk and chiffon, her gifts of gold and jewels adorning brow and wrist.
“You’d better not tire yourself out now,” she whispered in his ear, “I expect some special attention when I’ve got you all to myself.”
“You’re insatiable,” he murmured, squeezing her gently. In truth, her current state required little more than playful snuggling and kissing and he was always up for that. She clasped his hand over the sweet bulge of her swelling belly. He had never felt so blessed.
The musicians Zhou had hired for the occasion regained the makeshift stage and struck up a more sedate tune to compensate for the galloping romp that had preceded them.
“May I have this dance, Lady Caradec?” asked a familiar voice. Morisedd nodded respectfully at Pendaran, a faint smile upon his lips. Perhaps it was the egg nog, or perhaps it was the enthusiasm with which Uriel greeted each dance with him, but the ranger seemed contented and relaxed. He was attired for the occasion in a long forest green tunic over loose black trousers and suede boots. A playful crown of paper-mâché antlers perched upon his head.
“I’d be delighted, Murdi,” Teleri said, rising with a gentle nudge from Pendaran, “and don’t you go disappearing on me while I’ve got my back turned.”
“I’m yours to command,” Pendaran laughed.
He watched the graceful sway of the dancers, turning and bowing, melding and parting. Zhou was currently spinning Lemony about with practiced grace and Pendaran idly wondered where his master had learned so many traditional Tyrian dances, including the Ascalonian reel. Orick towered over Breke as the two went whirling past amid a silky gleam of purple and black. Kantele was laughing as Indigo tipped her rakishly back while Brigit had found her match in Mog and had jokingly spun him around. Uriel was gracefully promenading with Tyhric as the music lifted in a joyous refrain. If Pendaran closed his eyes he could imagine he was back in Ascalon at one of the royal galas. Zhou had done his best to give the party a Tyrian flavor but the clash of cultures was almost humorous and, in a way, far more gratifying.
“Why did you marry her?” asked a woman’s voice and he raised his head with a jolt to find Threnody sitting beside him on the couch. She was clad in pale green silk draped with a netting of tiny pearls. Her sea foam hair was gathered in a tight braid curled over her head and pinned in place with long skewers of mother of pearl and translucent jade. Her tightly laced bodice emphasized the enticing bulge of her breasts and above them laid a gleaming silver key encrusted with stormy green peridot that matched the color of his eyes.
“I love her,” Pendaran replied, his stomach clenching with uneasiness.
“You did not invite me to your wedding,” she said coldly, “How lightly you scorn me and my gifts.”
“Threnody…” he protested, but she was gone as suddenly as she appeared leaving him only with the faint salty odor of the sea. Shaken, he embraced the richly embroidered jacket of his wedding attire against his lean frame and shivered. He did not even notice the song had ended and Teleri was drifting happily toward him.
“Why do you look so glum, my beloved?” she asked, smoothing the loose strands of chestnut hair from his face.
“I’m just tired,” he lied. She was so happy and he would do nothing to besmirch her day.
“I think we could slip away,” she said slyly, her hands wandering down to the vivid red silk of his cravat to stroke him alluringly over his chest. He swooned toward her, his misgivings forgotten in a surge of prickly heat.
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” he whispered, only to be silenced a moment later by her seeking lips. He rose then, curling an arm around her waist and drawing her away amid laughter and the knowing looks of the revelers. Many of them raised their mugs and shouted encouragement to which Pendaran responded by sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her boldly from the hall. She cackled with delight and squeezed his rump to drunken cheers.
“I’m going to have fun unwrapping this present,” Teleri giggled to which Pendaran merely blushed. Whatever had he done to make Lyssa smile upon him so?
Best not to question, he decided. He was the happiest man alive and he planned to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.
~ Thus ends the second book in Pendaran's Tale ~
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