The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [388]
Ayla’s smile took them both in. “Perhaps both of you could show me the steps,” she said.
Daraldi bobbed his head in agreement, and Laduni gave her a happy grin as they each took one of her hands and led her toward the area where the dancers were gathering. While they were arranging themselves in a circle, the visitors were shown some basic steps; then they all joined hands as a flute sounded. Ayla was startled by the sound. She hadn’t heard a flute since Manen’s playing at the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. Had it been less than a year since they left the Meeting? It seemed so long ago, and she would never see them again.
She blinked away tears at the thought, but as the dancing began, she had little time to dwell on poignant reminiscences. The rhythm was easy to follow in the beginning, but became faster and more complex as the evening progressed. Ayla was unquestionably the center of attention. Every man found her irresistible. They crowded around her, vying for her attention, making innuendos and even blatant invitations thinly veiled as jokes. Jondalar flirted gently with Madenia and more obviously with Filonia, but he was aware of every man circling around Ayla.
The dancing became more complicated, with intricate steps and changing of places, and Ayla danced with them all. She laughed at their jokes and bawdy remarks as people broke away to refill their cups, or couples retreated to secluded corners. Laduni jumped into the middle and did an energetic solo performance. Toward the end, his mate joined him.
Ayla was feeling thirsty, and several people went with her to get another drink. She found Daraldi walking beside her.
“I would like some, too,” Madenia said.
“I’m sorry,” Losaduna said, putting his hand over her cup. “You have not had your Rites of First Pleasures, yet, my dear. You will have to settle for tea.” Madenia frowned and started to object; then she went to get a cup of the innocuous beverage she had been drinking.
He did not intend to allow her any of the privileges of womanhood until she went through the ceremony that bestowed womanhood, and he was doing everything he could to encourage her to agree to the important ritual. At the same time, he was letting everyone know that in spite of her terrible experience, she had been purified, restored to her former state, and was to be subject to the same restrictions and treated with the same special care and attention given to any other girl on the verge of becoming a woman. He felt it was the only way she would ever fully recover from the unconscionable attack and multiple rape she had suffered.
Ayla and Daraldi were the last to drink, and as everyone else wandered away in one direction or the other, they were left alone. He turned to her.
“Ayla, you are such a beautiful woman,” he said.
When she was growing up she had always been the tall, ugly one, and as many times as Jondalar had told her she was beautiful, she always thought it was because he loved her. She didn’t think of herself as beautiful, and his comment surprised her.
“No,” she said, laughing. “I’m not beautiful!”
Her remark took him aback. It wasn’t what he had expected to hear.
“But … but, you are,” he said.
Daraldi had been trying to interest her all evening, and though her conversation was friendly and warm, and she obviously enjoyed the dancing, moving with a natural sensuality that encouraged his efforts, he hadn’t been able to strike the spark that would lead to further advances. He knew he was not an unattractive man, and this was a Mother Festival, but he couldn’t seem to make his desires known. Finally he decided on a more direct approach.
“Ayla,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen for a moment, but he persisted, leaning over to nuzzle her ear. “You are a beautiful woman,” he whispered.
She turned to face him, but instead of leaning toward him in a willing response, she pulled back. He put his other arm around her waist to bring her closer. She leaned back and put her hands on his shoulders and looked him