Lost Heart: A Celta Novella (Celta HeartMate Series) (5 page)

"Yes, and you alert all the guards who will be needed tonight at GreatCircle Temple, providing we
get
that venue," Walker shot back.

Barton shook his head. "Nope,
you
, Head-of-the-Household-who-set-this-all-up-for-my-own-good, contact my second in command. I'm not working today. I have another major priority. One that you wished for me." He jiggled Enata a little.

Kissing her temple, he said, "Say good-bye to your Family." He grinned, but she felt a blazing heat through their bond, a red haze of desire that had her sex dampening. "We have a personal link to cement."

"No." Walker Clover walked up to stand close before them. "If you want a good Marriage Ritual tonight—

"Simple ritual," Barton muttered. "Make it short, not a dam— not a three septhour ceremony."

Walker's brows rose. "A formal Marriage Ritual is a major event."

Barton rocked back and forth on his heels. "Short and simple." He gestured with his chin. "Great party later, at the Temple and Clover Compound."

"I note your request," Walker replied. "As I was saying, if you want a potent Marriage Ritual tonight, you should do the cleansings and meditations to prepare for it. Noonbell hasn't struck, you have time for the traditional preparatory septhours to ensure a powerful Marriage Ritual tonight."

Barton hissed and stepped back. "Cleansings and meditations!" Easy to understand he preferred sex to just the opposite.

Walker held out his arms. "Go take care of the rituals for a groom. Give Enata to me."

"No." He squeezed her so tightly that she squeaked.

T'Willow strolled up and used a FirstFamily command voice. "Give Enata to me."

"No!" Enata heard the snap of Barton's teeth after that word.

B
arton began backing away
toward the doorway and the glider he must have arrived in. That clued her that the man didn't teleport well. He might not be able to teleport the two of them. She could, of course, but didn't think it appropriate to take him to D'Licorice Residence or the PublicLibrary, the places she knew best.

And now her brain began to clear from the effervescence of the potion that had made her so open to everything, she thought she'd prefer to conduct the traditions of a bride on her wedding day. From the compelling link between her and Barton, she'd be married to him for the rest of her life. She supposed she should free herself from him.

Her father stomped up to them. "You give me my daughter
right now.
"

Barton nearly growled,
did
glare at T'Licorice, but after a full minute, transferred Enata to her father's arms. She sighed and went a little limp in the familiar embrace. Papa didn't feel at all like Barton. Her father took her out of her lover's reach and set her down.

Her mother and Barton's mother looked up from where they'd been conversing.

D'Licorice said, "Twinmoons rise is mid-evening bell tonight. A very propitious time for beginning a Marriage Ritual." She flicked a hand at Barton. "Take yourself off and prepare for the ceremony."

Barton huffed. "I need to . . . walk the Family labyrinth, meditate in the grove,
cleanse and purify
myself for the ceremony." His nostrils widened, he marched the two paces to Enata, lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. "I will see you later, beloved. 'Parting is such sweet sorrow.' And it is." He tapped his chest. "Sweet because I met you, held you, and I know I will see you and wed you and love you this evening. But leaving you is difficult."

Walker stiffened, stared at his brother. "You read poetry? You
quote
poetry!"

Barton fisted his hand. "Keep it up, brother, and you'll take part in a marriage ritual with a broken nose."

"He is wonderful," Enata sighed.

Sweeping a graceful, formal bow to her, he kissed her fingers. "Later," he said huskily.

She really enjoyed being in Barton's arms.

Enata's father took her arm and brought it firmly through his, leading her away. Her mother took a package from the Willow housekeeper and came to Enata's other side. Enata looked over her shoulder at Barton. None of the other men stood near him, not even his brother.

"Until later, beloved." He
smoldered
at her. The timbre of his voice matched a hot intention coming from him through their bond. He wanted to make love with her as soon as possible. She swallowed.

An instant later she and her parents had teleported to the small room that housed the iron spiral staircase down to the HouseHeart, the core intelligence of D'Licorice Residence, where the "brain," HouseStones, lived. Her parents excused themselves and Enata ran down the stairs, descending deep under the Residence to begin a meditation session.

The HouseHeart burbled at her for thirty-five minutes, thrilled that all its Family had now been matched. Totally approving that they'd spent an incredible amount of gilt on the appointment for Enata. And as she regulated her breathing and looked at the individual facets of the quartz ceiling, she understood that when she and Barton had children, whomever needed a matchmaker's appointment would get one. Neither her parents nor her sister and Jace, both HeartMated couples, had required help in determining their mates.

As Enata pondered the situation, she realized that it may have taken her and Barton Clover long years to meet, they were so outside of each other's circles. And by the time they met, they might have changed enough so they weren't an exceptional match.

She'd been blessed, by this Residence and her Family. No, she didn't have a HeartMate, but that could be all to the good. HeartMate marriages were tough on the ones left behind. As soon as she'd understood about HeartMates and her parents and her sister, Enata had realized that. Someday her parents would die within a year of each other. Someday the same would happen to Glyssa and her HeartMate.

Before today, Enata had faced the fact that she could very well be left alone.

Now it was different and a big sigh escaped her.

The HouseHeart, a round room carved from bedrock, the basic personality of the Residence, had fallen silent. Enata stood and went to the fountain in the west, placed her hands under the second bubbling tier, and began the first ritual of her wedding day. "HouseHeart, please say the personal blessing for a Bride of a Daughter of the House for me."

"I will do so," said the HouseHeart in a multi-toned voice that echoed with all the personalities from the past and the Residence's own present voice. "D'Licorice and T'Licorice wait outside to join you to bless you in your next ritual circuit of the HouseHeart." Which meant she'd spent more time meditating than they'd anticipated.

Did they think she doubted this exceptional love match? She did, but not as much as they.

She curled her toes into the thick hybrid grass of Earth and Celta, set her mind in those toes and inhaled, pulling the strength of the planet through her. It tingled like sparkles of light. And she chanted the first prayer of gratitude and blessing.

B
arton strode
out of T'Willow Residence into the courtyard where Walker's glider sat, complete with the primary driver-guard Barton had assigned to his brother. After meeting Enata, Barton was surprised he'd been able to string two words together, let alone quote poetry or briefly consider the future of the Family. Now he had two Families to protect. Five new people added to his responsibilities shouldn't upset his balance, but they were
not Clovers.

And one was
her.
His lover, his soon-to-be-TONIGHT wife. His woman.

Walker caught up with him, grabbed his elbow. "Hold on and I'll 'port you to your house."

Barton grunted.

"What, no poetry?" Walker teased.

With a sneer, Barton looked at his brother. "You should try poetry. It works with women. I've always known that."

Walker's expression smoothed. "I'm very glad you found a good woman to love. Now let's get you home to Clover Compound, the cleansing and other procedures—"

"Dad and a couple of other of the male elders can help me out with the prayers and pre-ritual stuff, but
not Uncle Pink.
He would drive me crazy with his fancy notions."

Stiffening, Walker looked hurt and Barton recalled how he'd spent nearly every minute with his brother on Walker's wedding day. Hell! "I need you to take care of the organizational matters." Barton scrubbed his scalp. "And I must walk our labyrinth by myself. This situation . . ."
Love, so quickly and soon.
"Has knocked me off course."

"Good, since you need to let the matter of Savi and Balansa go. And good that you're doing a walking meditation. I'll join you when you're finished, after I delegate certain matters. If this takes place in GreatCircle Temple, the High Priest and Priestess may officiate. Other great nobles might attend."

"Everything must be as perfect as we can make it," Barton said, in unison with Walker. They all strove to ensure the Family would be well respected.

"Hang on," Walker gripped Barton's right biceps, counted down, then teleported them into the mainspace of Barton’s house.

The very dusty mainspace with battered furniture and graying walls of once-white. Barton winced.

"I'll get a crew in to clean this place up," Walker said. He punched Barton on the shoulder. "Go take a waterfall."

And so the rest of the day began. A day he'd never quite recall, passing in odd lurching moments as he waited through the long septhours for night to claim his woman as wife and lover.

A
s Barton strode
into the huge main chamber of GreatCircle Temple, he automatically scanned it for threats and noted who showed up for his wedding. A quick jump of his heart showed him that Walker and the Clovers — and probably the Licorices, too — had drawn a good amount of the FirstFamily nobles, those highest of the high, descendants of the people who'd paid for the starships to colonize Celta.

The Hollys were there, but Barton had worked for that Family. Also attending were the nobles of his generation with whom he'd had sparring lessons since he'd been a boy. He considered them all friends. Walker's in-laws, the Grove FirstFamily, another small Family, were there.

A gentle warmth spread through Barton as he walked with measured pace to the altar at the center of the room. There awaited the High Priest and High Priestess of Celta, whom he'd barely met. The Clovers didn't have any up-and-coming people in the priest or priestesshood. He'd have liked Family handling this, as everything else. Barton gulped and inclined his head to the pair. Then he turned south to face one of the four main doors, awaiting his bride.

A terrible buzzing throbbed in his head, kept beat with his heart. What if she had doubts, didn't come? Sliding his eyes to her side of the room, he saw Enata's sister and HeartMate. That slightly reassured him.

His parents stood close, arms twined around each other's waist, his mother holding a softleaf for tears. His two brothers and two sisters, along with their children and Familiar Companions, fronted the rest of many Clovers.

He settled into his balance and tightened his jaw, waiting, then became aware of music. Wonderful wedding ritual music played on flute and harp and strings, so he breathed to it, understanding from the piece that Enata should make her entrance no more than three minutes from now, right on schedule.

The longest three minutes of his life.

Stoically, Barton stood. His gaze snagged on Vinni T'Vine, the prophet, and anxiety surged. Yeah, Vinni was a friend of Barton's, and yeah, four out of five times fighting with Vinni, Barton could take him out. But no one in the whole world wanted the prophet's gaze and Flair focused on them. Then Vinni grinned and winked at him and relief sifted through Barton just as the music changed tempo to the Bride's Entrance.

His gaze shot to the south door and his whole chest squeezed as he saw her. Of course between the liquored up meeting that morning and now, he'd had his own doubts about the strength of his attraction, even though the immediate bond still spun between them.

Her beauty struck him, more than physical, the whole of her presence as she glided into the room. Her hair waved softly below her shoulders and the lightspells picked up an occasional hint of gold in the red, lighter than it had seemed this morning. All of her seemed lighter, less serious, looser. She wore a gown of deep blue, sewn with crystals — the night and stars. And looked at him with vulnerable hope in her eyes.

He’d never let her down.

E
nata trod
hesitantly through the large doors and into the inner chamber of GreatCircle Temple, between her parents. Her hands shook around the bouquet of flowers. People filled the place! More than she'd ever seen at an inside ritual before.

She swallowed and blinked at everyone waiting and watching her, easy to see since several spell globes circled the dome like tiny suns. Most of those attending were Clovers. An incredibly large Family for Celtans. The little voice in her head that collected facts stated that the average nuclear family size of the Clovers included five children. Her stomach clenched, but she lifted her chin, realizing that she wanted children. Five would be fine.

Then her gaze rose from the crowd to look at Barton. The man who'd give her those children, and her mind seemed to fire into mist. Big, tough. Sexy.

As she left the crowd behind and walked through the free space toward the altar, a hum of approval rippled through the crowd. Mostly from the Clover Family, particularly his parents, and his powerfully Flaired brother, Walker. A warmth unfurled inside her as she sensed the love of brother for brother that reflected the love that bound all the Clover Family together.

Soon she'd be part of a large — no, massive— Family, and she cherished the idea of emotional warmth. Her own Family tended to more logic than emotion and didn't often express their affection for each other in public, or even privately. She wanted more close connections.

And then she reached the altar and her parents faded back behind her, as Barton's brother, Walker, and his parents stood behind him. So close to Barton that she could touch him. She wanted to touch him. Absolutely no doubts now. This was right.

As if he sensed her conviction, Barton rocked toward her, caught himself and stopped.

The Priestess and Priest led the opening chant and people naturally arranged themselves into a ritual circle, guests of the bride alternating with guests of the groom when possible. The circle was cast and consecrated.

And magic throbbed in the atmosphere, composed of Flair and well wishes . . . of love. One blessing seemed doubled and tripled and quadrupled in the orb of the sacred space, arching overhead and down below into the planet.

Everything faded for Enata but Barton, his intense blue gaze, the lean lines of his face, his strong posture, the masculine grace of his gestures, the deep tone of his words. She flowed away on chants she didn't really hear, only experienced through him. She thought he felt the same.

Her voice came out steady and loud for the vows, as did his.

Their forearms were tied together with colorful ribbons, an outward manifestation of the inner bond pulsing between them. By that time she'd been so sensitized by the ceremony that his skin sent a frisson along her nerves and began a slow wave of lusty heat cycling through them.

They lit the unity candle, the two other candles lit from that flame passed around the circle to cross and return. They drank first from the loving cup. A great shout came when the cup returned from being ritually sipped by everyone. The Priest and Priest intoned the final blessing, announced them as husband and wife. Then a beautiful lilting melody swept through the room as the ritual ended and her hand was caught by her father, who grinned — grinned! — at her, loosened her ribbon bonds with Barton to a good two meters, and the dancing began.