We stood in the grace cast for protection of my innocence, in a circle of ancient standing stones, their old, old power echoing in my mind. The hill overlooked the great valley and castle below. His eyes searched mine and found the answer to his question.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
His deep voice echoing strong in my mind I cast my eyes adoringly into his as his hands made a devastatingly accurate search of my body quickly taking in all the details of the pure white gown he had given me that morning. Short only to mid thigh and intricately carved in mysterious Celtic designs. The fabric of the gown so light she barely felt it on her body, yet where is slid across her breast it sent a hungry tingle through her belly.
Charms he had said to protect my innocence from all save him. No one would touch his prize this day. None but him would taste that flower of innocence.
"Yes," I whispered. Nodding my head still lost in the depth of his stare.
"Then kneel, My love. Kneel and offer your body and soul into my keeping. From that moment on you will belong only to me. My own, My love, My body, whole and pure. Your soul, be it bright sunshine or dark desire belongs now to me."
I knelt to the ground in the way he had instructed me earlier. A simple posture knees wide, back straight head held high yet eyes cast to the ground, hands resting palm up upon my thighs in submission. I waited only a moment before his reassuring hand was on my shoulder.
"Look into my eyes," I lifted my eyes to His and was startled by the dark desire I found racing through their depths.
"Give me your hand." he said, voice heavy with need. I watched transfixed. I gasped as the point of the dagger scored deeply across his wrist, leaving a dark line of welling blood. There was not time to jerk away before my own hand was cut and I felt the burning slice of the blade. Swiftly, he pressed my wrist to his and bound the two together with a strip of white linen.
I must have swayed a bit, because He gripped my elbow with his free left hand.
"Bear up, lass," he urged softly. "It's not long now. Say the words after me."
Is tu fuil o mo chuislean, is tu cnaimh de mo chnaimh.
Is leatsa mo bhodhaig, chum gum bi sinn an ar n-aon.
Is leatsa ma anam gus an criochnaich ar saoghal.
The words meant nothing to me, but I obediently repeated them after Him, stumbling on the slippery vowels. The linen was untied, the wounds blotted clean, and we were One.
He took raised me to my feet and stared deep into my eyes. "All is well, my little one. All is well" he whispered as he steadied me holding me into his strong wide chest.
". . . I didn't realize you weren't expecting it until I saw your face."
"What was it, exactly?" I asked, trying to tuck in the ends of the cloth.
"It's a bit pagan, but it's customary hereabouts to have a blood vow, along with the regular marriage service . . . "
"A blood vow? What do the words mean?"
He took my right hand and gently tucked in the last end of the makeshift bandage.
"It rhymes, more or less, when ye say it in English. It says:
'Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.
I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.'"
