To Love Again - Bertrice Small [32]
Bodvoc grinned engagingly. “Yes, you will,” he said, and then went off to join the other young men preparing to race.
“Who is he?” Cailin asked.
“Bodvoc. His father is Carvilius, headman of one of our grandfather’s villages. Your mother was to have married Carvilius, but when she chose your father instead, he married a Catuvellauni woman. Bodvoc is the last of their children.”
“Bodvoc likes you, Nuala,” Cailin teased her younger cousin.
Nuala giggled. “Well,” she allowed, “he is handsome.”
“And has, I suspect,” Cailin told her, “an unquenchable thirst for your flesh. Could it be he is the first of your husbands?”
“Ohh, don’t tell anyone the Gypsy said I will have two husbands,” Nuala begged Cailin. “No man will want to take a chance on me if he thinks by doing so it will shorten his life. Then I will die an old maid!”
“I won’t tell,” Cailin promised Nuala, “but let us go watch the race, and see if you will indeed owe Bodvoc a kiss.”
No one believed that Corio could be beaten, but to everyone’s surprise, Bodvoc finished a full length ahead of the champion this time. Dressed only in a pair of leather briefs, his muscular chest wet with his exertion, he strode over to a very surprised Nuala.
“You owe me a kiss, Nuala of the blue, blue eyes,” he said softly. And a slow smile lit his handsome features.
“Why would I kiss a man who’s bested my favorite brother?” she asked him a trifle breathlessly, feeling just a little bit weak in the region of her knees. He was so … so gorgeous!
Bodvoc did not argue with her. Instead he reached out, and pulling Nuala against his body, he bent to kiss her. Nuala sighed deeply and sagged against him for a long moment as her lips softened beneath his. She almost fell when he gently released her from his embrace and set her back. Her pale skin flushed a deeper hue as about her the racers, including her own brother, chuckled with amusement.
“Nuala?” Cailin spoke low.
The sound of her cousin’s voice galvanized Nuala into action. Rearing back, she hit Bodvoc with all her might. “I did not say you might kiss me, you sweaty oaf!” she shouted, and ran from him, her dark hair flying.
“She loves me!” Bodvoc exulted, and turned to Corio. “Tell your father that I want Nuala for my wife,” he said, then ran off after the fleeing girl.
The crowd was dispersing. Cailin looked at Corio. “Will she have him?”
“Nuala has liked Bodvoc for several years, and she’s fourteen now. More than old enough to be a wife. It’s a good match. He’s eighteen, and strong. They’ll make beautiful babies, Cailin. Now we must find a husband for you, too, cousin. I don’t suppose you would consider me for a mate, would you?” For a small moment an almost hopeful look entered his eyes, and Cailin realized to her surprise that her cousin Corio harbored feelings for her that, if encouraged, could grow into love.
“Oh, Corio,” she said, and touched his arm. “I love you, but my love is like that of a sister for a brother. I do not think it will ever be anything more.” She hugged him. “I think at this time in my life I need a friend more than a husband. Be my friend.”
“The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and she wants to be my friend,” said Corio mournfully. “I have surely displeased the gods that they would visit such a burden upon me.”
“You are a rogue, dearest cousin,” Cailin laughed, “and I do not feel one bit sorry for you. Your path is strewn with broken hearts.”
That evening Cailin got a little more insight into her Dobunni heritage when her grandfather stood before a huge audience in his hall and recited the history of their Celtic tribe. Next to him a young harper stood playing, his music alternately sweet and wild, depending upon the portion of the tale being recited at the time. Ceara and Maeve bustled about the hall, seeing to the comfort of their guests; but at the high board, Berikos’s youngest wife, Brigit, sat proudly on display.
In the three months she had lived among the Dobunni, Cailin had seen Brigit rarely, and she