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  “I wasn’t this nervous at my wedding,” Bern confided. “Or my divorce hearing.”

  Ginger rounded on him. “You’re married?”

  “Was,” he answered.

  “You might have mentioned this earlier.”

  “Why?”

  “Men.” She spat the word like a curse.

  He put his hands on the nervous woman’s shoulders. “Don’t go off on me, OK?”

  “I do not have sex with married men.”

  “Then you’re in luck, because I’m not married.”

  “Right. Divorced. Sorry.” She rested her forehead against his bare chest. “I am so nervous that I don’t know what I’m saying or doing.”

  “You look beautiful,” he told her. “Like the bride of the summer god ought to look.”

  They had braided spring flowers into her thick red curls, and she was wearing Morga’s most diaphanous white silk dress. He was wearing a doeskin loincloth. He had to claim the Summer King’s sword, then be acclaimed by the people. After that they’d get naked and down to business.

  Tightly holding hands they made their way through the watching crowd to where Lord Ched stood between two widely spaced bonfires. Ginger made herself look straight ahead, but she was deeply aware of the expectant mood of the hundreds of watching people. She made herself believe that Bern was the only thing that was real and everything else was a dream. She wasn’t completely successful, but concentrating on the feel of him where his skin touched hers did help. Being near him truly did make her body ripe with need.

  When they reached the chieftain, Ched held up a richly decorated sword and shouted, “Behold your priestess and her new Summer King!” While the crowd cheered, Ched plunged the tip of the sword into the soft, spring earth.

  “Now what?” Bern whispered to Ginger.

  “You say something about accepting the kingship for the love of the Mother and the fertility of the land, and pull the sword from the ground.”

  “OK, then.” He began to step forwards, hand out to take the hilt of the sacred blade.

  “Wait!” a man shouted from the crowd before Bern could touch the sword.

  “Now, what?” Bern complained, turning towards the man who came rushing forwards.

  “I challenge!” the man shouted, coming up to glare face to face with Bern.

  “Oh, crap,” Ginger muttered. “I forgot about Lanc.”

  “Who the hell is Lanc?” Bern demanded.

  She pointed at the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man. “Oh, he’s this Druid from Brittany that’s been trying to get me to run off with him.”

  Bern rounded on her. “What? You weren’t going to mention that there’s this other guy?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Yes!”

  She grinned. “Oh, that’s so cute.”

  “I challenge!” Lanc shouted again. “Fight me for your kingship!”

  Bern gestured at the challenger. “Hold on, I’ll be right with you. What is this guy to you?” he demanded of Ginger.

  “Nothing. He’s one of a group of Druids going around trying to recruit psychics to come back to Brittany. They’re trying to keep the old religion alive back home.”

  “So, he doesn’t want to have sex with you?”

  “Not as far as I—”

  “Yes, I do!” Lanc cut her off.

  “Oh, stop it,” Ginger told him.

  “Fight me for her!” Lanc insisted. The crowd was beginning to shout for the battle to begin as well.

  “OK,” Bern said, and turned around and hit the man in the jaw.

  Lanc went down, but was up again almost instantly.

  Bern took a step back and smiled, glad that the opposition had some fight in him. It was barbaric, but he was glad to have some competition so he could properly claim the woman as his. Deep in his gut, deep in his heart, he knew Ginger was a woman worth fighting for.

  The Druid was a big, fit guy with some hand-to-hand skills. They sparred against each other, flesh and muscle straining, moving through firelight and shadow while the crowd cheered and shouted. Sweat stung Bern’s eyes, and he tasted blood when Lanc got past his guard once to strike him in the face. Excitement built deep in Bern’s gut and the clarity that only came with combat focused his whole attention on the struggle.

  For a while he forgot the purpose of the challenge while he concentrated deeply on the fight. Then he caught sight of Ginger. She was flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement, which sent a zing of lust straight to Bern’s groin. But her arms were tensely crossed, and she also looked annoyed.

  “Enjoying yourself?” she called sarcastically when she had his attention.

  The momentary distraction almost cost him but he caught Lanc’s sudden kick out of the corner of his eye and quickly countered, though he ended up with a hard foot grazing his thigh as he turned. He returned the favour with a hard kick to Lanc’s solar plexus, which brought the man down. When Lanc tried to struggle up, Bern knocked him unconscious.

  Ginger rushed up to him. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned, and kissed her, pulling her tightly against him. The loincloth left nothing to her imagination about how he was feeling. He was vaguely aware of the cheering crowd.

  Her hand brushed against the erection straining against the soft leather. Then she prised herself out of his tight embrace. “Not yet.”

  “Oh, come on!” he complained. But he understood when she pointed towards the sword buried in the ground. He laughed. “Right. Well, at least I don’t have to pull it out of a stone.”

  She looked at him strangely, and asked, “Doesn’t Bern mean ‘Bear’?”

  “Yeah …” He waved the question aside and quickly crossed to the sword. Bits of earth clung to the blade as he pulled it out and held it up for all to see. He waited for the cheering to die down, then shouted, “For Britain and the White Lady!”

  The roar this time was deafening.

  “Must have sounded good,” he murmured.

  Ched came up to them, took Ginger by the hand. A trio of young women accompanied him. One of the girls held a staghorn headdress. The girls made quick work of stripping off his and Ginger’s clothes.

  After fastening the headdress on Bern, Ched turned to the crowd and proclaimed, “Behold the Queen and King of Summer whose mating brings fertility to the land! Let the festival begin!”

  “I don’t think—”Ginger started.

  But this was no time for thinking and Bern wasn’t going to let her get started. He swung his naked lover up into his arms and covered her mouth with his. While his tongue probed inside that sweet, responsive warmth he carried her to the cloth-covered mound of grass and flowers that was to serve as both bed and altar for them to mate upon.

  “Put me down!” she demanded.

  “Don’t chicken out on me now,” he pleaded.

  Ginger laughed wickedly. She remembered his directions to just look at him, but the crowd was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She wanted to taste him, and that was what she did, licking and kissing her way down his throat to his chest and belly. And then, on her knees, she put her lips on the tip of his penis, tasted a drop of pre-come on her tongue.

  The crowd cheered when she took his cock deep into her mouth. A wave of raw sexual energy washed over her. The lust of the masses shot through her, and she projected it back to the people around them. In that moment the goddess filled her, and she worshipped the god of summer and king of the land with all the fervour and passion due him.

  Bern’s hips bucked and he tangled his hands in her hair. “God, woman!” he growled as she sucked and licked his hard shaft.

  She would have gone on like this until he came, but Bern had other ideas. He pushed her gently away and on to her back on the soft, fragrant pile. He knelt over her, his cock poised at the moist opening of her vagina. He waited while her hips rose pleadingly.

  “Now!” she demanded.

  But he didn’t move until her gaze finally met
his. “The night is just beginning,” he told her.

  Then he entered her, and his worship of the goddess began in earnest

  “Ahem.”

  The embarrassed sound, followed by a second voice demanding, “Cover your shame, woman!” was the last thing Ginger expected to hear.

  Besides, she wasn’t sure how shame was supposed to be covered, especially when what she felt was marvellous. All right, she was sore and tender in places, and rather hungover, though not in the having-drank-too-much-alcohol way. Who knew too much great sex could make you groggy? Could you have too much great sex?

  “Colonel, sir,” the embarrassed voice whispered. “Excuse me for waking you up, but—”

  “Rouse yourself, man!” the other voice boomed.

  Ginger giggled. “Please don’t,” she murmured. “Not on my account. Not just yet, anyway.”

  “What? What?” Bern muttered.

  She felt his breath brush her cheek when he spoke, and realized that he was the warm weight lying half on top of her. The cool morning breeze skimmed across the rest of her, teasing one bare nipple to a hard peak. Maybe that was the shame the guy was talking about. Was that any way to talk to the goddess’ own—

  “Is that you, Dr White?”

  Ginger’s eyes flew open and she caught sight of a familiar, concerned face. “Sergeant Kaye?” Oh, good Lord, she was naked in front of a colleague! She didn’t recognize the man standing next to him, but back onanger was frowning down at her with utter disgust written all over his face and tense posture.

  “His name’s Percy Perkins, and he’s a jerk,” Bern whispered. He sat up and said, “I hope you brought us some clothes, Kaye.”

  The sergeant held out the dress Ginger had worn last night, and a long tunic for Bern.

  “Of course you realize that I intend to report this infraction,” Percy said.

  “Infraction of what?” Bern asked. “There’s no rule against team members fraternizing.”

  “You led an orgy! Your disgusting behaviour roused the indigenous population to—”

  “He didn’t get any, sir,” Kaye put in.

  Bern scratched his jaw. “I can see how that might make him cranky.”

  “Not to mention being named Percy,” Ginger added. “That alone has to have put the guy in years of therapy. Could you sue your parents for giving you a name like that?” she asked the fuming man. He declined to respond.

  “I could use a shave,” Bern said. “And a bath.” He sprang to his feet and helped Ginger up. “How about you, sweetheart?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Have the team meet us at the bath, Kaye.”

  She slipped the white dress over her head, and they walked arm in arm across the field towards the villa, frequently stepping over and around still sleeping revellers. Kaye went off to his assignment, and Percy followed behind them, making the occasional disapproving sound. The morning sun shone down, the sky was blue, the earth was green, birds sang, and Ginger was happier than she’d ever been before. They had the blessing of the goddess, she supposed.

  They passed the old bishop preaching to a small group of revellers that looked thoroughly hangdog and hungover. Myrdyn gave them a pleasant nod when he saw them.

  “We must be good for business,” Bern said.

  “If he baptizes all those people the energy in the pool is going to be whacked out for days,” Ginger said.

  “That is hardly a scientific explanation of a malfunction, Dr White,” Percy complained.

  They ignored him.

  Once they reached the bathhouse, Ginger led them into the preparation room where scented oils and scrapers were stored. This was where the oil was used to clean a person’s body before they got into the hot water of the bathing pool. Benches lined the walls, and the floor was tiled in a beautiful leaf-patterned mosaic.

  “This is where I meant to bring you yesterday,” she told Bern.

  He pulled her close. They looked into each other’s eyes. “It was worth the detour.”

  “You two are being disgusting,” Percy said.

  Bern sighed. “You know, this time I think I agree with him.” He let her go.

  “We do have work to do,” she said.

  “Do I detect some professionalism at last?”

  “Shut up, Percy,” Ginger and Bern said together.

  “That’s an order,” Bern added.

  Ginger took a seat on a bench against the back wall. Within a few minutes Kaye and the rest of the team joined them. Bern allowed his people a few minutes of teasing him before saying, “This is Gareth and Lamorak.”

  Ginger smiled. “Of course they are.”

  He didn’t understand what amused her, and didn’t ask. “Let’s get down to business.”

  “Now that we have recovered Dr White, it’s time to continue surveying the nexus points,” Percy said immediately.

  “Percy’s a dowser,” Bern explained to Ginger. “He’s working on a new nexus map. But he hasn’t yet found a spot with enough energy to get us home.”

  “Ihardly my fault that this island is swamped with more energy points than anywhere else on the planet, especially in this area. It was a mistake sending a team this far back, and especially to this geographic area.”

  “Yeah, I think we’re all aware of that,” Gareth said. “Since you tell us every chance we get.”

  “We have one more man to find,” Lamorak said. “That’s our mission.”

  “Finding the exit point is far more important for our own survival,” Percy argued. “We should cut our losses and concentrate on finding a functioning nexus. Perhaps Dr White could conjure up a vision of where we should go,” he added snidely.

  “What did I ever do to you?” was Ginger’s response to this rudeness.

  Bern liked that she refused to be intimidated by the jerk. “No one gets left behind,” he reminded Percy. “We’re still looking for Owen.”

  “But his transpond—” Percy started.

  “What does your gut tell you, sir?” Kaye jumped in. “You found me—”

  “Your transponder was working,” Percy said, cutting him off.

  “Intermittently. It was Colonel Bern’s instincts that really found me.”

  “Balderdash,” Percy scoffed.

  “Does anyone really say ‘balderdash’?” Ginger asked.

  “The colonel’s gut led us here and we found Dr White,” Gareth said. “What do you think about Owen, sir?”

  Bern considered for a moment, sensing more than thinking. Finally, he said, “I think that most of the population in the area is camped out around this stronghold. If I was Owen, I’d be here too.” He swept his gaze around his team. “Go look for him.”

  There were nods, and people turned to leave.

  Before he left Percy just had to ask, “And what will you be doing while we’re searching?”

  Bern put his arm around Ginger’s shoulders. “I’m going to be standing at the Lady of the White Bird Spring’s side while she seeks a vision to help us find a way home.”

  “Good, Bishop Myrdyn hasn’t used the place yet,” Ginger said as they entered the empty shrine.

  Now she didn’t have to regret insisting that they get cleaned up before coming to the spring. Her skin felt fresh and tingly, and all the aches from strenuous bouts of sex were soothed. Her hair hung in a damp braid down her back, and Bern had shaved.

  “If only we had coffee, we could face anything,” she said.

  “Find us the right nexus and I’ll buy you your own Starbucks,” he replied.

  He wouldn’t be able to do any such thing of course, even if she could somehow pull the right vision out of the sacred pool. It saddened her to know that she would return to her point of origin, and he would return to his, which was six months further along the main timeline than hers. She would remember what happened, and six months later he’d read a report filed by her, and learn what he’d done in the past. It wouldn’t be proper to record their sexual encounters in the official reco
rd, even if the dry bureaucratic tone of reports could use spicing up a bit.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She turned her smile briefly on him, and then dropped to her knees. “I doubt this will work,” she warned. “I don’t normally see anything dealing with my own future.”

  “You saw me, didn’t you?”

  “I saw you in response to Lord Ched asking who the next king would be. We need to talk about that,” she added.

  “No, we don’t. As soon as we conclude the search for Owen, I’m taking you and the rest of my people out of here.”

  “But—5

  “Look into the water. Calm yourself. Concentrate.”

  “I know how to summon the visions, Andrew.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gently began to massage them. He communicated his faith in her through his touch. Damn, but she was going to hate losing this man! She appreciated the moment, refused to feel sorry for herself, and set about doing her duty.

  At first, of course, all she saw was a pool of water as still and clear as a looking glass. But the calm, peaceful water changed quickly enough.

  Bern grew worried for Ginger when the muscles beneath his fingers went suddenly tense. “What?” he asked. “What do you see?”

  “Fire,” she answered, voice distant and dull. “Fire on the hill.”

  “What hill? What’s burning?”

  “There’s a battle,” she said. “You have to defeat them. It’s your destiny.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “What does any of that have to do with getting you safely home?”

  Lord Ched came running into the sanctuary before she could respond. “They’re coming!” he shouted. “The Saxons are coming.” A guard followed him in, pushing a woman ahead of him. Ched looked at the woman. “Tell him,” he commanded.

  The woman was crying. “Mercy, my lord! I did come back to warn you.”

  “Yes, yes,” the chieftain said. He pointed to Bern. “Tell the king what you told me.”

  Everybody looked at him. Bern wanted to yell at them to cut out the calling-him-king crap, but even Ginger had come out of her trance and was looking at him like he was the hero of the hour. And, damn it, the thought of disappointing her made him feel like a jerk. He gritted his teeth, and nodded for the woman to go on.