Chapter 3

I puttered around the flat for a bit, cleaning up and making some room in the pantry for Tarmant and Naltort's foodstuffs, then headed over to Rorke's.

I found Ian Rorke behind the bar, polishing glasses in the time-honored ritual of a Celtic publican. I could see his bride Mantarl in the kitchen, preparing some Craxill item I was unfamiliar with, his hands covered in a white flour-like substance. Mantarl's mate was no doubt upstairs in their flat, keeping their young cub entertained and caring for Ian's wife Siobhan, who'd just given birth to a son two weeks ago.

Ian waved at me as I entered, and drew a pint of stout for me as I sat down. It was a local brew, not the Guinness I'd favored at home, but it was tasty nonetheless.

I took a much smaller sip than was my custom, and Ian's eyebrow raised slightly. He wasn't the type to pry, but neither did he let anything go unnoticed.

I took another sip, and then spoke to him in my usual fake-Irish accent.

"I hate to do it to you, me boy, you with two new bairns to feed and all, but I've had to cut down on me drinking, what with the changes in me life of late."

Ian shook his head, about to make a snappy comeback, when something about my expression caught his eye.

"I'll be damned if you don't have the look of a man in love," he said with a wry grin. "Do I know the lucky lady?"

For all his Irish manner, Ian was a native-born Phoenix, so when he said 'lady' he meant 'human woman, ' not a member of the gentry. Though, now that I thought of it, all humans on Phoenix seemed to think of themselves as 'gentry, ' and their 'brides' as their subjects. The slight arrogance involved reminded me of the Yanks (as the various citizens of the countries of North America were commonly called back home.)

"I seem to have done things as backwards as always," I told him, sipping my brew again. "I've not found a lady yet, but I seem to have acquired a family nonetheless."

We'd been talking openly, with him halfway down the bar, but his eyes narrowed, and he put down the glass he'd been cleaning and walked closer.

"Do you mean what I think you mean?" he asked in a much lower tone. He didn't sound angry, but there was a bit of tension in his voice.

In a similarly low tone, I said, "I mean that last night, when I was drunk, I seem to have taken a bride, and mated her to her love, and in the process to have seriously bent not a few of the rules of proper behavior. I'm not the least bit proud of it, but what's done is done, and I'll not even think of dodging my duty to the two of them."

Ian was taken aback, momentarily speechless. I took another small sip, and continued.

"Looking back, it's obvious to me that she truly is mine, which means I truly did take her last night. Only problem is that if I was drunk enough to do something that contrary to my sense of responsibility, I'd have been incapable of maintaining the erection necessary to bind her to me.

"The only thing I can think of is that she slipped something into my drink, one of the stiffeners the polys use to make sure they don't short-change any of their wives. If I was in a foul enough mood, I could call rape, I think, but frankly I've been too lonely too long, and I couldn't bring myself to cast them out anyway."

I finished my stout in several swallows then, and said, "I'll have another when they get here, with our meal, and if I ask for a third, throw my sorry ass into the street. That is, if you're not going to do it here and now, now that you know what I've done."

Ian wasn't looking at me, but at something behind me. I turned to see who or what it was, and found Tarmant standing there, quivering, with a look of sadness in her eyes.

I gestured her close, then pulled her into my arms and held her face to my neck. I could hear her breath whispering through her tongue as she smelled me, renewing her immersion in my scent.

"I didn't realize you knew, lord," she said sadly into my chest. "Please, tell me you forgive me for the unspeakable crime I've committed."

"I only figured it out after you left," I whispered to her, stroking her cheek with the backs of my fingers. "I assume that Naltort had no idea what you had in mind."

"No, lord, he didn't," she said, sounding just a touch less fearful. "He would never have permitted it, and I might have lost him if I'd suggested it. But I loved him so, and..."

I brushed my fingers across her lips to silence her, and said, "Of course I forgive you." I turned my gaze back to Ian, and spoke to him in a low tone.

"I shouldn't have said what I did; please don't repeat it," I told him. "I got drunk, they got drunk, and we all did something we're not proud of, but it will turn out well despite the way it started. I can't say I'm used to the idea yet, but I can tell this woman needs me, and my approval, and I'll not hurt her if I can help it."