Lord Samhain's Night (5 page)

"Because he was clearly desperate. All my life I've felt guilty at having everything while Rupert had so little. It seemed justice that he should win the greatest treasure of all."

Phoebe stared up at him. "That's the first time you've said something lover-like that I've been able to believe."

She relaxed, so he could hold her with only one arm, leaving the other hand free to caress her cheek. "My damnable air of boredom. I thought you at least might have known how I hide my deepest feelings... I've been desperately unhappy, Phoebe. Do I have a chance?"

Phoebe didn't know quite what to make of this sudden turn of events. She pulled out of his arms. "What has brought all this on?"

He looked a little wary. "Rupert. He paid me a ghostly visit. No, listen!"

When he'd finished the story, Phoebe shook her head. "It's scarcely believable. Why didn’t he visit me?"

"I think he could only speak to those to whom he needed to confess. You were ahead of the game."

"And Nan?"

"Is happier, I think, for having it explained, though it's a sorry tale."

Phoebe walked off a little way. "So he only wanted me for my money. I had begun to suspect as much."

He came up behind her. "You can at least acquit me of that, I think."

She turned. "You haven't lost all at the tables, milord?"

"Assuredly not." He caught her hands. "I know this is all a shock, but believe me, Phoebe, I love you. I love you more desperately than I would ever have thought possible. At times I thought of that story Rupert told last year, and made bizarre plots to steal you at the altar. I don't want to pressure you, but I will never marry anyone else. If you don't accept me, the Brewis line will die."

She laughed nervously. "And that is not to pressure me?"

He caught her up. "Very well, I
do
intend to pressure you. I lost you once through nonchalance, and I will not do so again. I intend to woo you, and badger you, and give you not a moment's peace until you're mine."

Phoebe linked her hands behind his neck. "I look forward to it immensely. Why don't you start with a very wooing, badgering kiss?"

He did, and Phoebe knew their wedding would only be delayed by her liking the wooing and badgering a great deal.

And that magic sometimes worked wonders in human affairs.

The End

A note about Samhain’s Night.

Samhain is a Celtic tradition and deity, and it is pronounced Sowain, but I don’t let that stop me from pronouncing it Samhain, as I didn’t know the pronunciation when I first wrote the story.

The feast of Samhain has many pagan and folklore traditions, and has long been linked to Halloween or All Souls’ Night, when the intersection between the mundane world and the spiritual is supposed to be thin. This has led to many traditions and beliefs, from it being a good time to remember the ancestors to it being a time when the dead can invade and harm. There is also the one tradition that says that all who have died in the past year rise from their graves for judgment, and that’s the one I used here.

The superstition about the walnuts and the prediction of a partner is from an old Victorian book of spells I own. No, it’s not Wiccan, merely parlor amusements. The Victorians were very interested in such things.

I have a strong interest in fantasy and science fiction but because my romance writing quickly became successful I’ve not had time to play much in those areas. However, I enjoy opportunities to bring such elements into my romances.

Here are some other stories and novels that have weird stuff in them. You can find out more about them on my web page. http://www.jobev.com.

I’ve also included an odd little SF story I wrote a while ago, and also an excerpt from my upcoming Georgian romance,
A Scandalous Countess
.

Enjoy.

The Demon’s Bride
.

First published in the collection,
Moonlit Lovers
. In this Georgian romance a vicar’s daughter becomes entangled with a rakish earl in the midst of rural superstition. As in Samhain’s Night, there’s more truth to the ritual than people think. This is only available at the moment as an e-book.

The Dragon and the Virgin Princess

This was published as part of a collection,
Dragon Lovers
, and is still only available as an e-story that way. However, I think you’ll love the other four stories.

Mine is a riff on that old story of the virgin sacrificed to the marauding dragon, but again, what was seen as merely a ritual takes a disturbing turn toward reality.

The Raven And The Rose

in
Chalice of Roses
, four romances woven around Grail mythology. My medieval heroine discovers she has the ancient power to summon the Grail to bring peace to war-torn England. But first she needs a hero, and he’s hard to persuade.

Forbidden Magic

This is a full length regency historical in which the heroine snares a lord by using a magical statue that’s reputed always to demand a price for its gifts. When the Earl of Saxonhhurst turns out to be eccentric and possibly mad Meg believes she’s found the sting in the tail.

The Marrying Maid

in
Songs of Love and Death
. In this Georgian novella, a young lord seeks his destined bride to gain his magical powers and avert a family curse. He searches the fashionable ladies of England, but finds his bride in very unlikely form. The collection is available in hardcover, paperback, and as an e-book.

The Marrying Maid was an honorable mention in the Year’s Best Science Fiction, edited by Gardner Dozois.

 FLOWER POWER

What if aliens come in an unexpected form?

Flig the Bugwort looked at the crowd, her sap sinking down to her roots. She didn't have a good feeling about this place at all.

On the sunny side -- the ruler's crazy plan seemed to have worked thus far. Flig's essence had been transported through space to this planet and into the dominant life-form, and she’d arrived safely in the middle of a crowd. Her foliage and round yellow head was identical to that of the natives. She and Tor should be able to explore without being detected.

On the cloudy side, there was something very wrong with the crowd. No one was moving. No one was communicating. Were they infested with some terrible pest? They looked healthy enough.

Flig extended a leaf and brush it against that of a neighbor. Not so much as a twitch.

Maggot it. She'd predicted there would be social nuances they hadn't been able to pick up through space. And where, for rot's sake, was the gardocyne Tordemayne? They were supposed to form together, but Tor couldn't be any of these witless wonders.

Flig waggled herself so Tor would be able to see her, but none of the plants reacted. Rot it. She'd have to find her. Gardocynes lived to grow huge, so they naturally avoided all danger. Tor was probably standing as still as all the others, hoping not to be seen.

Fungus head.

Flig was glad that home base couldn't read thoughts.

She explored the abilities of this strange body. She could move the stem, leaves, and head, but she couldn't make anything else work. This planet was awash with green energy but didn't seem to be doing anything with it. She wove it into a local communication system. She could communicate with Tor by bouncing off home, but she needed something faster than that.

She wiggled the communication leaf in a questing circle. "Hey Tor! Shake a petal."

Nothing happened. Then: "Don't be disgusting," said a thick, slow voice. The Gardocyne obviously
was
bouncing communication off Verdamonde.

Flig reminded herself that no one ever got anywhere by harassing a gardocyne. They just hunkered deeper in the earth for a year or two.

"Come on, Tor. There must be hundreds of us here. Do something to show me where you are. Do anything and I'll spot you among these zombies."

Flig eased out of the ground a bit and stretched up tall. "Show yourself, Tor!"

About ten plants over, a yellow top moved slightly in a way that might be more than a breeze-blow. Flig suppressed a sigh. Sending a gardocyne on this adventure was insane -- except that the ruler has presented it as an honor, and would be happy to get rid of a popular rival.

If they wanted to thwart the ruler's plan, they didn't have much time. They needed to be out of here before the sun moved and cut off the essential light because the scientists hadn't been sure what would happen then.

If the gardocyne couldn't come to the bugwort, then the bugwort would have to go to the gardocyne. Flig eased her roots out of the ground -- and practically fell on her stamens!

How the drought did these plants get around? Only the central root was capable of bearing her weight and that was inflexible. Fretting about lost time and the expenditure of energy, Flig made some more adjustments so she could use the lower bifurcation for a kind of shuffle. Perhaps these creatures hopped, but with all the rest of them so still, she wasn't going to bounce up and down. All this stillness might be a religious ceremony. She might get crushed for sacrilege.

With the ungainly shuffle, she worked her way through the indifferent crowd, murmuring polite apologies, though she was pretty sure by now that they were dealing with an extreme communication problem. The ruler was hoping for diplomacy and trade treaties that would bring in essential minerals. If they couldn't communicated, however, the mission would be a failure.

Bugslime! She’d only brushed against the plant, but bits began to fall. White bits, not yellow.

She looked up. The plant's whole top was white and strangely filmy. Some kind of mold?

"Ugh." She began to frantically brush the stuff off -- then stopped, horrified. Each bit of white fluff held a seed. What in the name of the sun was the etiquette for a situation like this?

Someone else's seeds.

On her leaves.

"Flig," said Tor. "Are you coming? This place is creepy."

"Yes, in a moment."

Home base was recording all this. She'd never live it down. If there had been any chance of diplomacy she'd probably ruined it.

She tried to detect how the seeding plant was reacting.

No more than any of the other plants.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of seeds up there. She'd never seen so many on one plant. Talk about excess! With so many, however, perhaps the parent was glad to see some gone. It must be a terrible job, caring for so many seedlings. Perhaps everyone was still and quiet from exhaustion.

Flig felt terrible, though. Very carefully, she placed the fluffy seeds back among their siblings.

Not a word of anger or thanks. Creepy. Tor was right. Flig wanted to get their reconnoitering done and get out of here. She scuttled over to the gardocyne and adjusted one of Tor's leaves so they could communicate directly. "What do you make of this?" Flig asked.

"It's horrible. I'm so small!"

"You're the same size as everyone else."

"That's what I mean." Then Tor suddenly jerked. "Flig! There's something on me!"

"Where? Oh, yum." Flig curled a leaf over the black insect and crushed it.

"Don't eat it!" yelped Tor.

"Rot." Sight of such a juicy bit had made her forget the dangers. Food here might not suit them, though it was impossible not to take some in through roots and leaves. It was too late, though. The rich juices were flowing in through her pores. After a moment, she said, "It's all right, I think. Very like a prime root-cutter. Want some?"

"What's the point? This stupid body wouldn't grow to a decent size if I ate every root-cutter on this planet. Roots and leaves will have to do."

"Well, I wouldn't depend on roots," said Flig bracingly. "By the time you've fixed them up for walking they won't be much good for sucking up food any more. I don't know how these plants manage. Come on. Let's get on with our mission. Sooner done, sooner back to our real selves at home."

That was enough to get the gardocyne to ease her roots out of the ground. Flig spent the time snapping up passing insects so that home base could record their nutritional value, and watching the crowd for hints. They did nothing but soak up the sun.

 At least none of the insects seemed particularly dangerous, but Flig did some modifications so she could defend herself and Tor. She manipulated some of the minerals in the earth into a little slugpluggers. She tried it on an ant and the insect exploded into bits.