Binding Vows

“A lady is not safe out here by herself.”

She stopped again. This time he didn’t stop in time and fell into her.

Hands at her sides, her chest thrust up next to his, she gritted the words between her teeth. “A lady isn’t safe around you, either.”

“Now, Tara.” He tried pleading with her.

“Oh, don’t you even, ‘now, Tara’ me.” She stepped to the side and started off in a different direction. Walking in circles.

He let her walk for several minutes before attempting to talk to her again. “I would be happy to escort you on a walk, but we need to get you more properly dressed.” He knew the effect watching her walk was having on him. He could only imagine what his men must have thought when she had stormed the courtyard in her shorts.

“You’re a bastard, you know that, MacCoinnich?”

He wanted to counter what she said but cautioned himself against it. “Still, we need you in more fitting clothes. If someone were to come along, questions would be raised which would be most difficult to answer.”

“You should have thought of that before you brought me here.” She waved a hand in his general direction. “Right now I don’t give a crap what questions
you
might have to answer.”

“I told you how necessary it is for secrecy.” He turned to the Keep and noticed some of the men watching to see what would happen. He needed to put a stop to this and soon.

“Bite me.”

A completely inappropriate image of him doing exactly that popped in his head. A slow lazy smile inched over his lips.

Unfortunately for him, Tara read his thoughts.

BINDING

VOWS

by

Catherine Bybee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Binding Vows

COPYRIGHT © 2009 by Catherine Bybee All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by
Rae Monet

The Wild Rose Press

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History

First Faery Rose Edition, 2009

Print ISBN 1-60154-607-6

Published in the United States of America
Dedication

For David,
my
Knight in Shining Armor.

For Sharon, who read this book first and encouraged me to pursue my dreams.

For Aithne, whose expert advice and enthusiasm helped me on the road to publication.

Chapter 1

They weren’t even at the county line, and Tara McAllister already regretted getting in the car. She entertained a beautiful, yet brief fantasy of turning the late model Honda Accord around and heading back home.

The pounding behind her eyes began about ten miles ago when Cassy, her best friend, started reading the information she had downloaded from the Internet.

Traveling down a dirty highway, in the heat of summer with a broken air conditioner, Tara repeated the words Cassy lived and breathed by,

“You’re only young once, ”
YOYO,
as Cassy would say anytime Tara started balking, as if the words were the secret code to life itself. Tara scolded herself for falling headlong into the world of her oldest and best friend, a world full of piss-poor planning and lousy accommodations.

“Remember, this was your idea,” Cassy said, glancing up from the papers she was reading.

“No. I suggested going to that medieval restaurant for dinner and a show.
You
came up with attending a Renaissance fair. You’d think after last time, I would have learned,” Tara muttered.

“Who could have known Wyoming would be so cold in February?”

“It
was
winter! And
cold
doesn’t describe what twenty below zero feels like. I never even got on the back of a horse. Who goes to a dude ranch in the winter?”

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They did, and Tara wouldn’t forget how sick she’d been. She never left her bed the entire time they were there.

“This will be better, just wait and see.”

“Right.” Tara couldn’t believe she’d gotten herself roped into another one of Cassy’s adventures.

This time, she’d agreed to a Renaissance fair and an extended weekend in some Podunk
town with what she imagined was a compound filled with circus freaks.

They weren’t even going to have a bed for God’s sake. They were going to sleep in tents, in the middle of some grimy field, with strangers and only thin strips of fabric separating them. Tara imagined the sounds and smells she’d be forced to endure over the next few days.

As if the rugged sleeping accommodations weren’t enough, from the minute they arrived until they left, dresses were the required attire for all women. Dresses with entirely too many undergarments. Aside from the dress code, they could eat only food available during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.

“Ah ha!” Cassy screamed, waving the papers in front of Tara’s eyes, all but causing her to swerve into traffic.

“Would you mind? I’m trying to drive here.”

“Listen to this!” Cassy ignored her and read the pamphlet aloud. “When ye arrive, all ladies are asked to wear the costume they think is most befitting their station in life. If ye are a vendor or entertainer, it is understood your garments and color choices lean toward the drab, while honored guests and people of wealth are encouraged to bring their most colorful fetching gowns. Ladies’ hairstyles should represent their station in relevance to the time.”

“Remember, only young unmarried maids are 2

Binding Vows

allowed to wear their hair down and uncovered. If ye are married, divorced, or are no longer virtuous, your hair should be bound or covered the entire time ye are at the fair. In an effort to maintain propriety and honesty, everyone must pass the scrutiny of the town’s Gypsy Queen. She will decide if the costume and appearance is appropriate to each guest. Don’t think ye can befuddle our Queen!”

Cassy just loved this shit, her voiced hitched higher, adding drama. “She is most accurate in her visions. In fact, parents of young maidens often bring them for the sole purpose of determining if their offspring has experienced carnal knowledge.”

She took a breath and ignored Tara’s eyes as they rolled in the back of her head. “This is going to be so great. I can’t wait until we get there.”

“Do you really believe that crap? How can anyone know if you’ve slept with someone just by looking at you?”

“I’m not sure. But it says here, she can.”

“I’ll bet there’s more to it than
that.” Tara switched lanes to merge into the traffic on the connecting freeway.

“More to it than what?”

“More to it than looking at you. Maybe she has naked men standing beside her.” Tara pictured how a virgin might react to seeing a naked man for the first time. Some would giggle and hide their eyes, while others might stare open-mouthed and dumbstruck. She laughed at the thought.

“I like the sound of that.”

“You would!” Tara said. “Or maybe the Gypsy has some good looking guy hitting on the women as they come in and watches from some remote camera for their reactions.”

“You’re such a cynic, Tara. I thought you liked this type of thing, or at least believed there’s more to magic than what you read in books?”

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Tara did in fact think there was more to magic than fiction put on paper. On the other hand, she was a realist. The Gypsy Queen would have to prove herself before Tara forked over any of her hard earned tips acquired by working countless hours waiting tables. “That doesn’t mean I believe everything I hear.”

“I don’t believe
everything
I hear, just some of it.

I wonder if the Gypsy reads palms. I would love to hear what my future holds,” Cassy said.

The sign on the highway indicated the off-ramp they needed was coming up. “Oh, I’m sure. For money! And since she won’t be around after the weekend, it’s not like you can get a refund if she’s full of shit.”

“Cynic!” Undaunted by her friend’s attitude, Cassy reached into her purse and removed a tube of lip gloss.

“
I
can tell you your future.”

Making popping noises with her lips, Cassy asked, “Oh yeah, what is it?”

“You’ll begin your brilliant nursing career, along with me, after we graduate in December. Then you’ll find Mr. Wonderful or, even better, Dr. Wonderful, and settle down to a fabulous life in the suburbs in two or three years. See, I didn’t need to look at your hand, and it didn’t cost you a dime.”

“Ha!” Cassy tossed her bag aside. “A lot you know. I’ll have a passionate affair with Dr.

Wonderful, but I won’t marry him. Who wants to be married to a doctor who’s on call all the time?”

“Good point.” The stop sign at the end of the off-ramp forked in both directions. “Which way now?”

Cassy picked up the map. “Go right. The brochure says we should fuel up at the next town.

Apparently, there aren’t any services for the next forty miles.”

“This place really is in the middle of nowhere.”

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Binding Vows

Tara started toward the one stop town in search of a gas station. “I hope it’s not going to be too hot. It’s enough to have to sleep next to strangers, but sweaty smelly strangers? Yuck!”

“The picture shows the fair set in the woods by a stream. It looks very shady.”

The pictures could have been taken after a rare California rain. They were probably headed into a dust bowl. Tara grabbed her purse and fumbled around in the bottom to find the aspirin she knew was there.

****

They drove away from the gas station with a couple of ice-cold sodas and a bag of barbequed potato chips.

The whole non-twenty-first century food thing was a drawback for both of them. And as tempting as it was to stock up with snacks and chips, they thought it would be best to make the most of the authentic experience. Besides, Tara had already stashed an emergency supply of chocolate in her purse.

“So, do you think the Gypsy will peg you?” Cassy asked.

“Peg me for what?”

“A virgin?”

Tara let out a manic laugh and almost choked on the soda. “Twenty-five year old virgins are hard to come by. No pun intended. So no, I don’t think she’ll peg me.”

“What if she does? Will you let her read your palm?”

“She won’t. I’m not the poster child for virginity.

I’m not Amish-looking. I’m in no way shy, or fat, and I don’t think I’m ugly.”

The only physical flaw Tara saw when she looked in the mirror were her breasts. By California standards, they were considered too small.

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“...and besides,” Tara continued, “I’ve seen my share of naked men...more than most...for a virgin, anyway.”

“That’s true. But if the Gypsy singles you out as a virgin, you need to promise me you’ll let her read your palm and...no more cynicism for the rest of the weekend!”

It was a sucker’s bet. There’s no way some self-proclaimed Gypsy Queen would suspect she was a virgin. “You got yourself a deal.”

****

It couldn’t get any worse, it just couldn’t! The parking lot was two miles from the actual encampment where the fair was taking place. Cassy and Tara were told to leave the car, secured and guarded by what looked like executioners, then walk the final couple of miles. If they were lucky, they could catch a ride on a passing cart or carriage.

They, of course, were not lucky.

The information packet failed to tell them they would be ostracized by everyone if they arrived out of costume. They were looked down upon like lepers, as if they sported oozing wounds and all. People stopped, put their noses in the air, and rode along their merry friggin’ way.

The bitchy blonde at the reception tent took one look at their modern shorts and t-shirts and blurted out, “Well, I see the two of you are unable to read the Queen’s English. Your welcome pamphlet specifically said to arrive in costume.” She tossed Tara a map. “Here, return when you are properly attired and not a moment sooner. I’ll give you the schedule of events at that time.”

Tara bit her lip to keep from telling the witch to bite her.

The tent was tall enough to stand in, but that was the only good thing Tara could say about it. The straw mats on the floor contained two blankets 6

Binding Vows

tossed on them. A water basin with a tin bowl sat in the corner rounding out their luxurious amenities.

Once the flap of the tent came down to give them some privacy, the interior became stifling.

Cassy, anxious to join in the chaos outside, started stripping the minute the flap dropped. “They weren’t kidding when they said primitive. Isn’t this cool?”

“Hmmmm... Cool,” Tara muttered, biting back the insult off her tongue.

“Did you see those guys on the horses? I wonder if there’ll be a joust, or whatever it’s called.”