Witch Hunt (17 page)

There was a moment of uneasy silence while all awaited Tyler’s reaction.

Tyler looked from Sir Cedric, to Phelim, and, finally, to Cassie. She stood by her horse, in her beautiful white dress, with her hands on her hips and a wide grin on her face. She mouthed the words,
My
hero
.

He rolled off Sir Cedric, and overcome by the absurdity of it all, burst out laughing.

Everyone else sighed with relief.

Tyler laughed so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. “How … how many … people … die … doing this?”

Sir Cedric rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a friend break both his legs in an attempt to recapture his bride. Made for a sorrowful wedding night.”

Tyler propped himself up on his elbow and wiped away the sweat from his brow. “I think I may be a bit … out of sorts … for my own wedding night.”

“Nae, Tyler Hawthorne,” Cassie said. “I’ve got a powerful magic way about me. Sure, and you’ll never be … out of sorts … again.”

Triumphantly, Tyler lifted his bride onto his horse and rode her to the wedding site — the beach of a hidden cove along the rugged Atlantic shoreline.

The sun was nearly overhead when the ceremony began.

Cassie and Tyler stood holding hands, facing Sir Cedric, while those gathered to witness the rite formed a circle around them.

“There’s magic to be done here, the magic of love,” Sir Cedric said. “This place is calling to you, Oh Mistress of Magic, Virgin, Mother, and Lady of Death.

“This place is calling to you, Oh Horned God, Keeper of Rough Magic, Shepherd of Wild Things, and Divine Sacrifice.

“Come and witness the forming of this alliance between our sister and brother.”

Sir Cedric then addressed the bride and groom. “Do you two consent to the ancient rite of handfasting?”

“Aye,” Cassie said.

Tyler nodded. “Yes.”

Sir Cedric bound together their wrists with a cord made of red satin and silver threads, and held their hands up for all to see.

A cheer rose from those gathered.

Sir Cedric offered the ritual goblet first to Cassie, who tasted the wine, and then to Tyler, who drained the cup.

“Now, for the sake of your assured fertility, leap the broom,” Sir Cedric said.

Phelim moved into the circle, carrying the broom, and held it while Cassie and Tyler jumped over it.

Sir Cedric kissed them both. “May the high gods protect and keep you, Tyler and Cassie Hawthorne.”

Cheers erupted once more, and the celebration began.

The feast was laid out on blankets, and jugs of wine and ale were passed around. The musicians among them began to play the old songs on their crude instruments, and Cassie and Tyler had their wedding dance.

Then a committee was formed to present the wedding gift.

Phelim handed the velvet bag to them, and Murphy made the speech. “Our circle has had it for generations, and then some,” he said. “But we want you to take it into the New World with you, to keep alive the old ways.”

Tyler opened the bag and removed the ritual goblet. “I know what a sacrifice this is for you, and I’m terribly moved. Thank you.”

Cassie wasn’t moved in the slightest. She had planned to steal the goblet when she left anyway.

The
Carina
, a Van Carel and Hawthorne ship carrying a load of textiles and a half-dozen passengers, docked in New York City after a forty-day sea voyage. Tyler and Cassie Hawthorne were met on the wharf by Tyler’s family.

Tyler’s mother was a tall, slender woman with silver-gray hair and a graceful manner.

Tyler kissed his mother’s cheek in greeting. “Mother, this is my wife. Cassie, my mother, Irene.”

Cassie nodded. “Top o’ the mornin, ma’am.”

Irene seemed startled. “Please, call me Mother.”

Cassie, never having called anyone Mother, felt awkward. “Mother.”

Irene’s faint eyebrows knitted themselves together. “So, Cassie, are you an Eldon, Carlyle, or Watkins?”

“‘Tis a Callaghan I am, Mother.”

Irene gave Tyler a startled look.

“The ladies in question were all toads or cows. Cassie shares our religion, and she’s not a toad or cow.”

Irene’s smile vanished altogether. “I see.”

“Mother?” There was an edge in Tyler’s voice.

Irene’s smile was forced, but she took Cassie’s arm. “Well, you’re a Hawthorne now, dear. So, let’s introduce you to your new family.” She led them to a nearby carriage.

A pretty young woman jumped from her seat and threw her arms around Tyler. “I’m so happy you’ve finally found a wife.”

“Cassie, this is my sister, Arabel Hunter.”

Arabel grasped both of Cassie’s hands. “You’re simply lovely. We’ve waited so long for Tyler to marry.”

Cassie, grateful for Arabel’s kindness, knew it wouldn’t last when she discovered her to be lowborn. So she decided to just get it over with. “Aye, but ‘tis an Irishwoman he’s gone and married, so I don’t fancy I’m too welcome.”

Arabel dropped Cassie’s hands and turned on Tyler. “So, you’ve told her we’re snobs, have you? Well, I’m a romantic, and if my brother loves you, that’s all that matters to me.” She gave Cassie a gentle push toward the man and small boy who stood loading baggage into the carriage. “Come meet my husband and son.”

Cassie greeted Arabel’s husband Giles with a smile, and shook the hand of their nine-year-old son Oakes. The men loaded the baggage, everyone piled into the carriage, Giles slapped the reins, and the four horses pulled them into motion.

Cassie sat spellbound, watching the sights of America’s largest city. The traffic of horse-drawn vehicles was heavy, the street vendors were loud, and the pigs that acted as refuse collectors were everywhere.

“Was your crossing smooth?” Arabel asked.

“No, Cassie and I kept the boat rocking.”

Arabel giggled. “Sounds like your honeymoon was as energetic as ours was.”

“So, are the Callaghans happy about this match?” Irene asked.

“I’ve no livin’ family, Mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Despite that sad fact, Cassie didn’t come entirely without a dowry,” Tyler said. “Her circle gave us an ancient goblet to add to our family’s ritual tools. It’s quite priceless, actually.”

Irene nodded. “That was very nice of them.”

“Sure, and it was,” Cassie said. A terrible longing for that circle of people suddenly overcame her. She felt tears threatening.

Oakes tugged at her sleeve. She looked down at him, and he thrust a small package at her. “This is for my new aunt.”

She took the brightly wrapped gift hesitantly. She was sure it had been meant for an aunt who was an Eldon, Carlyle, or Watkins, not an aunt who was a dirt-poor orphaned Irish waif.

“Go on,” Oakes said.

Cassie took a deep breath and forced a smile. “‘Tis kind of you.” She unwrapped the small crystal bottle of amber perfume.

“It’s called patchouli,” Arabel said. “It’s all the rage now.”

Cassie opened the bottle and inhaled the pungent odor. It was strong.
Strong
. That word reverberated in her mind with great force, like the thunder that follows the flash of lighting. She caught her breath. She also had the ability to be strong. What had she been thinking? She was a priestess of Morrigan. She was invincible. She shook her head in an effort to clear away the weakness and insecurity that had taken possession of her. Then she smiled and applied the scent. “Nice.”

“We also have a dressmaker lined up to make you a special gown for your reception,” Arabel said.

“Reception?”

“Your wedding reception, to introduce you to New York society.” Irene’s voice was strained.

“Cassie’s such a beauty, the men will all be envious and the women jealous,” Arabel said.

“Oh, a party.” Cassie said, her returning confidence washing over her like a flood. “Won’t that be grand?”

The Hawthorne mansion was located in the fashionable Bowling Green district. It was more impressive than any home Cassie had ever seen — the big house that the Watkins family lived in didn’t even come close to comparing in grandeur.

A large Negro woman met them at the door and took their wraps.

“We’ll take tea in the drawing room, Odelia,” Irene said. “And assemble the servants to meet the new Mrs. Hawthorne.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Odelia gave Cassie a curious once over with her bright, brown eyes.

“I didn’t know it was slaves you were ownin’, Tyler,” Cassie whispered.

“I don’t. All of our help get wages, board, and lodging.”

Sir Cedric had painted an entirely different picture of America. She had so much to learn … and unlearn, it seemed.

The drawing room had rich carpets, colorful drapes, fancy wallpaper, and elegant rosewood furniture. Cassie sat down in a chair by the fire and closed her eyes. She had never even imagined such luxury could be hers. If the Watkinses could see her now, she thought, a smile betraying her satisfaction.

Tyler sat down on the arm of the chair and startled her with a kiss. “You look happy,” he said.

“I’m a princess now.”

His magnetic eyes captured hers, and she felt his magic. As she gazed into them — blue like the sky, set in a bright face surrounded by golden hair — the warmth grew within her. She was sure that he, indeed, embodied the energy of the great sun god. Nothing less could make her feel the way he did.

With great flurry, the servants piled into the room, and then quickly arranged themselves in a line a few feet from Cassie and Tyler. The only Caucasian member of the staff, a very pregnant young woman, caught Tyler’s attention. The woman smiled at Tyler and made a subtle gesture toward her belly. Anxiety filled Cassie when she saw Tyler raise his eyebrows in surprise and return her smile.

Odelia set a tray carrying a silver tea service on a low table, and then took her place at the head of the line of servants.

Irene made the introductions. “Cassie, you’ve met Odelia. She’s in charge of keeping the downstairs. Her husband, Fuzzy, is our groundskeeper.” A fuzzyheaded man next to her nodded respectfully. “Clem runs our stables. His wife, Magnolia — Maggie — is our cook. And Sugar and Sheila are chambermaids.”