He cared not.
It no longer signified if she was lying or telling the truth. He wanted Gwen Cassidy in a way that defied reason, in a way he refused to further question.
He admired her tenacity; he desired her with every fiber of his being; she made him laugh, she made him furious. She stood her ground; she believed him a Druid and desired him anyway.
By Amergin, he—thrice-jilted Drustan MacKeltar—was being pursued by a woman who knew what he was.
He could no longer recall why he'd ever resisted her to begin with.
He struggled against an intense desire to bring himself to completion, to find release—a release he'd desperately needed since the moment she'd entered his home. But, nay, not in so empty a fashion. He wanted it with her. Inside her.
"What you said was so romantic," she said with a little sigh.
"Um-hmm," he managed. When she spoke again, it took him a few moments to realize what she was saying.
And when he did, he leaped to his feet, roaring, but she kept speaking: "If aught must be lost,'twill be my honor for yours. If one must be forsaken, 'twill be my soul for yours. Should death come anon,'twill be my life for yours. I am Given. That's what you said."
As she finished, Drustan doubled over. A spark of heat and light built inside him and spread, enveloping him. He couldn't talk, he could scarce breathe, as wave after wave of emotion crashed over him…
* * * * *
Gwen doubled over, as a wave of intense emotion crashed over her. She felt funny, really weird, like she'd just said something irrevocable…
* * * * *
"Och, Christ, Nellie," Silvan whispered, stunned both by Gwen's words and by the realization that he was holding Nell's hand, and she was letting him. "She just married him."
"Married?" Nell's fingers tightened on his.
"Aye, the Druid vows. I didn't work that spell, even when I wed my wife."
Nell's lips parted on a "why," but then they both peeked breathlessly over the balustrade, desperate to hear what would happen next.
* * *
Chapter 21
"Ahem," Drustan said after a long time. "Do you know you just married me, lass?"
"What?" Gwen shouted.
"Would you please let your husband out of the garderobe?"
Gwen was stunned. She'd married him with those words?
"Those were the Druid wedding vows you just said to me, a binding spell, and I doona understand how you knew it, but—"
God, he still didn't remember! she realized with a sinking sensation, even though she'd told him all of it, down to the minute details. "I knew it, you dolt, because you said it to me! And I didn't know I was marrying you—"
"Doona be thinkin' you'll be gettin' out of it," he said testily.
"I'm not trying to get out of it—"
"You're not?" he exclaimed.
"You want to be married to me? Without even remembering?"
"'Tis too late. We are. Nothing can undo it. Best you grow accustomed to it." He punched the door for emphasis.
"What about your betrothed?"
He muttered something about his betrothed that warmed her heart. "But that's another thing I doona understand, lass. If what you claimed happened did indeed happen, I doona understand why I wouldn't have woven a spell for you to carry to me. I would have known the possibility existed that I might not make it back. I would surely have given you a memory spell."
"A m-m-memory sp-spell?" Gwen sputtered. Could it have been that simple all along? Did she have the key to make him remember, but he'd not told her how to use it? What hadn't she told him so far? She'd deliberately withheld a few details so she might have something to test him with should he suddenly claim to have regained total recall. Closing her eyes, she thought hard, sifting through details. Oh!
Have you a good memory, Gwen Cassidy? he'd asked her in the car as they'd approached Ban Drochaid. "Oh, God. Like something that rhymed?" she shrieked.
"It may have."
"If you'd given me such a spell, would you have told me how to use it?" she said accusingly.
There was a long silence, then he admitted, "Like as not, I wouldn't have told you until the last possible moment."
"And if at the last possible moment you melted?" she pressed.
There was a harsh intake of air, then an extended silence behind the door. Then, "Speak your rhyme if you have one!" he exclaimed.
She turned around and faced the door, then laid her palms and cheek against it. Quietly but clearly, she spoke.
* * * * *
Drustan was facing the door, his palms spread against the cool wood, his cheek pressed to it. He'd whispered the Druid wedding vows back the moment she'd said them. There was no way she was getting away from him now. His former betrothal meant naught. He was well and truly wed. Druid binding vows could never be broken. There was no such thing as Druid divorce.