The Stolen Bride. Susan Spencer Paul

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      Chapter Five

      The dancing began at midday, even before the feasting had taken place. Sofia refused the first few requests to join in the merriment when the music filled the air, hoping yet that Kayne would change his stubborn mind and arrive. She knew that he would be reserved—if he came—and would feel an outsider to the other villagers. It was her intention to stay by his side every moment, bearing him company to make his time as pleasing as possible. If he could but see that there was naught to fear from knowing and communing with his neighbors, mayhap ’twould be easier to lure him to such festivities in future.

      It was a perfect day. The sun was bright overhead, but not too hot, and a cool breeze carried the many delicious scents of the faire across the fields where the festivities were taking place, down to the banks of the river, where children were already making small boats out of leaves and twigs, and even into the forest, where young couples sought the shelter of the trees to share stolen kisses or begin searching for the fern blossoms which became imbued with great power in the coming darkness of this most magical of nights.

      Sellers had set out their wares—jewelry, flowers, toys, herbs, medicines, crafts of every kind and a variety of foods. Great mounds of wood were being set out for the bonfires that would later be lit, and many smaller fires were already being used to roast whole pigs and haunches of venison and beef.

      All the village maidens, Sofia included, had twined ribbons in their hair and adorned themselves with circlets of flowers, and were brazenly teasing and dallying with the young men. The young men, apart from admiring the maidens, were waiting for the contests to begin in order to prove their strength and prowess in such skills as archery, running and wrestling. There were prizes for the winners of each contest, all to be awarded with great ceremony by Sofia’s father, Sir Malcolm, who was already strolling amongst the feasters, merrily jesting and laughing and drinking far too much ale and wine. When the dancing began, Sofia noted, her father was one of the first to take a pretty maiden by the hand and draw her in among the other dancers.

      “Will you not dance, Mistress Sofia?” Olvan, the cobbler’s handsome eldest son, cried out as three maidens laughingly pulled him toward the music.

      Sofia smiled and shook her head—then laughed along with the maidens as Olvan stumbled at their urgent tugging and quickly righted himself, flushed with pleasure at being so sought after by the fairer sex. Everyone, it seemed, was smiling and laughing, and Sofia suddenly twirled about with her arms wide, uncaring of who saw. She felt gladsome and free and happy beyond measure. Could anything be better—or rarer—than a day of ease and pleasure?

      She stopped spinning and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun upon her upturned face, thinking of what was to come. The feasting and games and contests, the sailing of wishes, and then, as night fell, the bonfires and music and merriment throughout. Oh, how she wished Kayne would put his stubbornness aside and come. He would enjoy himself so very much—

      “Sofia.”

      A cruel hand closed over her arm, pulling her about. Sofia’s eyes flew open to see the man who’s voice she’d already recognized.

      Sir Griel.

      He was dressed, as he always was, in black, and surrounded by a half-dozen of his fighting men. They were the only men present who were fully armed, as if for battle, and silence began to fall over the assembly as their daunting presence was noted.

      Sofia drew herself up full height, refusing to let anyone see the fear that welled up at the memory of her last meeting with Sir Griel. His fingers gripped her in the same steely manner as he had done then. Sofia made one effort to wrench herself free, saw his amused smile, and fell still.

      “My lord,” she greeted coldly.

      “Mistress,” he replied, still smiling. “You are very beautiful this afternoon. But this, to my partial view, is as you ever are.”

      Sofia gave no answer to this, sickened by the way his gaze moved over her in so brazen and lecherous a manner.

      “You have come to make merry for St. John’s Day?” she asked, calling the day by its church-given name, rather than what it had been known by since time began. “You have not honored us with your presence on such occasions before. I’m certain the people of Wirth are most pleased to have you attend СКАЧАТЬ