All he had to do was be the Year King.
It wasn’t like he minded having sex with Ginger White.
“King it is then,” Bern said.
“Good,” Lord Ched said, and he and his people marched away.
When they were gone, Ginger asked, “Now what are we going to do?”
Bern was still grinning as he took her in his arms. “Why, rehearse for the fertility ceremony, of course.”
“You’ll have to wear a pair of stag horns, you know.”
He grimaced. “And what will you be wearing?”
“Not a damn thing.”
The grimace turned into a grin. “I can live with that.”
“Yes, but—”
“My name’s Andrew.” He picked her up and carried her toward the narrow bed. “Colonel Andrew Bern. Just Bern to almost everybody.” He kissed her before adding. “Under the circumstances, I thought we ought to be formally introduced.”
She twined her arms around his neck. “Nice name. Kiss me again.”
“All over,” he promised.
Night had fallen, sacred fires were lit, and hundreds of pilgrims were waiting within their glow just outside the front of the estate. The ceremony was ready to begin.
“I wasn’t this nervous at my wedding,” Bern confided. “Or my divorce hearing.”
Ginger rounded on him. “You’re married? I do not have sex with married men.”
“Then you’re in luck, because I’m not married.”
“Oh. Right. Divorced. Sorry.” She rested her forehead against his bare chest. “I am so nervous that I don’t know what I’m saying or doing. I’ve never done anything like this my whole life.”
“Just enjoy the moment. Don’t think about anything but me. I promise, I won’t be thinking about anything but you. You look beautiful,” he told her. “Like the bride of the summer god ought to look.”
They had braided spring flowers into her thick red curls, and she was wearing Morga’s most diaphanous white silk dress. He was wearing a doe-skin loincloth. He had to claim the Summer King’s sword, then be acclaimed by the people. After that they’d get naked and down to business.
They made their way through the watching crowd to where Lord Ched stood between two widely spaced bonfires. Ginger was deeply aware of the expectant mood of the hundreds of watching people. She told herself that Bern was the only thing that was real here, that everything else was a dream. She concentrated on the feel of him where his skin touched hers. Being near him truly did make her body ripe with need.
When they reached the chieftain, Ched held up a richly decorated sword and shouted, “Behold your priestess and her new Summer King!” While the crowd cheered, Ched plunged the tip of the sword into the soft, spring earth.
“Now what?” Bern whispered to Ginger.
“You say something about accepting the kingship for the love of the Mother and the fertility of the land, and pull the sword from the ground.”
“Okay, then.” He began to step forward, hand out to take the hilt of the sacred blade.
“Wait!” a man shouted from the crowd before Bern could touch the sword.
“Now what?” Bern said, turning toward the man who came rushing forward.
“I challenge!” the man shouted, coming up to glare at Bern.
“Oh, crap,” Ginger muttered. “I forgot about Lanc.”
“Who the hell is Lanc?” Bern demanded.
She pointed at the broad-shoulder, dark-haired man. “He’s this druid from Brittany that’s been trying to get me to run off with him.”
Bern rounded on her. “What? You weren’t going to mention that there’s this other guy who wants to skewer me tonight?”
“You’re jealous.”
“Yes!”
She grinned. “Oh, that’s so cute. Don’t worry. You’re more than a match for him.”
“I challenge!” Lanc shouted again. “Fight me for your kingship!”
Bern gestured at the challenger. “Hold on, I’ll be right with you. What is this guy to you?” he demanded of Ginger.
“Nothing. He’s one of a group of druids going around trying to recruit psychics to come back to Brittany. They’re trying to keep the old religion alive back home.”
“So, he doesn’t want to have sex with you?”
“Not as far as I—”
“Yes, I do!” Lanc cut her off.
“Oh, stop it,” Ginger told him.
“Fight me for her!” Lanc insisted. The crowd was beginning to shout for the battle to begin as well.