Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF

toward the sound of the drums. She watched the dancers for a few songs then felt confident that she knew the steps of the dance and joined in. Between the mead, the power of the drums and the spinning and twirling of the dance, she felt positively intoxicated.
    After she had danced a few songs, Saorla looked up to see that her dance partner was Cathaír. He swung her around and danced with her for the rest of the song. They both laughed, and Saorla felt light and free as they danced together. After several more dances, Saorla looked as if she would fall over from exhaustion. Cathaír steered her by her elbow away from the crowd.
    “What do you think you're doing, your Highness?” he whispered playfully into her ear.
    Saorla hiccupped and said, “Enjoying my wedding night, good sir.”
    Cathaír couldn’t help but smile. He felt a warmth toward Saorla he had never felt before. Here, in the glow of feast fires and away from the serious business of the Sacred Grove, he noticed for the first time how truly beautiful Saorla was. Her green eyes were two brilliant emeralds. Her lips were rosy pink and full. Her cheeks were flushed from the dance and the ale. Her hair, usually tightly plaited, was loose and flowing, full cascades of soft red flowing over her milky white shoulders.
    “Are you going to stand here and continue to scold me, or are you going to dance with me, Cathaír?” Saorla asked.
    He thought he should pick her up, carry her to her horse and escort her right back to the Sacred Grove. As her sworn protector and one of the holders of the secret of the Fires of Brighid, that is what he should do.
    But he was a man too, and would be a fool not to enjoy a night of dancing and laughter with Saorla. So he put out his arm for her and said, “May I have this dance?”
    She smiled mischievously and took his arm as they joined the others in a raucous dance. After a few more hours, Saorla said that her feet, not used to all the dancing, were tired.
    Cathaír had an idea. They hiked the steep climb to the top of the sacred hill again, this time alone and unseen by the now drunken crowd below. Saorla and Cathaír tucked back into the shrouded ‘wedding bed’.
    Inside Saorla threw herself down on the large flat stone bed to rest. She was exhilarated and tired all at the same time. Cathaír stood nearby awkwardly, not knowing what to do next.
    “Come rest with me, Cathaír,” Saorla said as she motioned for him to lie next to her.
    Cathaír hesitated. He knew it was most improper for him to lie on a bed with Saorla. But he was tired, and as there was no place to sit, he did as she suggested. As Cathaír lay next to Saorla, their hands gently touched.
    Although Saorla was tired, the mead had worn off, and her mind was clear, not foggy. She focused herself and knew in an instant that Cathaír was thinking of how much he loved Saorla. And how much he wanted to kiss her. Saorla’s cheeks flushed scarlet.
    Instead of speaking, she rolled over to look at Cathaír. Before he knew what was happening, Saorla gently kissed his lips. Cathaír’s brain told him that he should push her away, but the love pouring from her was too powerful a magnet. He kissed her back and gently wrapped his arms around her. Her body softened in his arms. She felt as if she would melt from the inside out. Her insides had turned to jelly.
    As their lips parted, Cathaír looked deeply into Saorla’s eyes. “I love you, Saorla,” he said.
    “I love you too, Cathaír,” she said as they kissed again, more deeply this time. Their passion was ignited, and neither of them could stop this long embrace even if they wanted to. Cathaír and Saorla stayed together, wound tightly in each other’s arms until just before dawn.
    When they awoke, Saorla once again dressed as the Goddess, complete with mask. Cathaír slipped out without being seen but brought her horse around for her and escorted her back to the Sacred Grove.
    “You mean that they stayed the whole