Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

She seemed to consider his words. “Will Elpis serve? And Ektor? As witness to such vows?”

He nodded. “Yes, they would do quite well.”

“I hoped so.” She blushed. “They wait for us at the Seat of Poseidon, in the cove.”

He smiled down at her, astounded. She had taken pains to make sure no obstacles stood in their way. She would have him as her husband. She wanted him to be her husband. His laughter rang out. “Then let us make haste.”

He moved back to the horse, leapt astride and urged the animal forward.

She stared up at him, eyeing the horse with undisguised apprehension. Her voice wavered, “I’ve never ridden. Nikolaos’ donkey hardly counts.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised.

Her smile, her faith in him, warmed him through. He reached down, offering his hand to her. She took it, clinging to his arm as he swung her up behind him.

“Hold tightly, my lady,” he said over his shoulder.

He heard her gasp as his knees tightened about the horse and the animal jerked forward. His stomach constricted beneath her touch. Her arms wrapped tightly about him. Her cheek and chest pressed against his back, swaying against him with the gait of the horse. He knew she would hear his heart – beating as if it would break free from his chest.

His hand covered hers, holding her soft palm against the hard plane of his stomach. His thumb brushed across her knuckles before he clasped her hand in his, squeezing it gently. She returned the squeeze, her body softening against his back.

They moved quickly, traversing the country and avoiding the main roads. No doubt Galenus would make this marriage wait, to consult Medusa’s father and gain his permission. But he would make certain Phorcys was well pleased with the bride price he would provide for Medusa. If Phorcys was not satisfied, he would give more. He was willing to give all he had for her, without quarrel. None here knew that, in Rhodes, he was a man of substantial wealth, rank, and property.

He was only Ariston the warrior in Athens, he’d preferred it. The legacy of his father and uncle cast too great a shadow to give him prospects for one of his own. He’d set out to prove himself, without the use of his family name, and had done so, remaining simply Ariston.

/> Still, Ariston would not risk Galenus’ interference this night. He would deal with whatever consequences their secret union might have once the deed was done. He would not risk losing Medusa to anyone.

He glanced at his waist, following the line of her arm wrapped about him. Exposed from elbow to wrist in the white light of the moon, he could scarce believe that they were bound as they were. Yet they were. Her arm seemed to disappear at the wrist, clasped warmly in his hand. This was how it should be, this bond between them. Having her with him now left no doubt.

He did not think of Persia or strategy, he did not worry over retribution for deserting the meeting or the lack of his weapons or helmet. All would be forgiven. They would need him too greatly.

She would be his, through witnessed vows. She would be his wife, his love and his lady, for all time.

It was slow going, for Ariston’s impatience mounted with every bend in their path. Yet they forged ahead, the stars the only light as they ventured far from the city and surrounding farms. He turned the mount, steering them closer to the sandy beach and the cove at Poseidon’s Seat. When they rounded the final outcrop, Ariston slowed their horse and stared in amazement.

Beneath an olive tree set far from the shore, Elpis was arranging a make-shift altar. She was pointing, speaking to Ektor in hushed tones. The young man stood back, adjusting one of the two tall tapers set beside a flat rock. The rock was covered with flowers, fruit and nuts, as was customary for a vow ceremony. How he wished theirs would be such a ceremony, attended by all who loved them. That would wait, when there was time for such festivities to be savored.

This was not that time. And though it had yet to begin, he longed for the time when this war was ended.

He would take her home, to Rhodes. The sun was brighter there, warmer. She would be even more radiant from its rays. They would run through the hop fields, eat the grapes from his family’s vines and dive for pearls and shells before having a feast on the beach, just the two of them …or with their children. He would enjoy showing her his boyhood home and sharing it with her. He could see it, their future, and knew the rightness of it.

He nudged the horse onto the beach, slowing it to a walk.

Thea sat in the tree, watching them with wide yellow eyes. She did not join Medusa, but emitted little purrs and clicks. He smiled at the owl, fond of her presence and the attentions she provided her mistress.

“She approves,” Medusa said.

He slipped from the horse and reached up for Medusa, his words for her ears alone. “She knows I am yours. We are alike, she and I.”

She shivered as his hands grasped her about her waist. As he lifted her, her eyes searched his. The shadows on her face could not hide her smile. Even after he’d placed her on the ground, his hold lingered. It had little to do with ensuring she find solid footing on the soft sand.

“Tis a good thing,” Elpis said. “If Thea did not approve, you might lose a finger, or your nose.”

Ektor eyed the owl warily at the words.

Ariston searched through the sack hanging from the horse’s flat wooden saddle. Inside he found the supplies he needed. The others waited while he scribbled two notes. He sanded them, rolled them and tucked them into his belt.

Ariston led Medusa to the rock, stopping before the makeshift altar. He glanced at Elpis and Ektor, and they joined them.