winged horse to fly with her over the land and the sea and show her the wonders he would give her if only she would pledge to him. His heart was hers and all he had he would give her.
'And it happened that her father, wakeful with aches in his bones, saw his young Gwen swirl out of the sky on the white winged horse with the faerie prince behind her. In his fear and lack of understanding he thought only to save her from the spell he was sure she was under. So he forbade her to have truck with Carrick again, and to ensure her safety he betrothed her to a steady young man who made his living on the water. And Lady Gwen, a maid with great respect for her father, dutifully tucked her heart away, ceased her walking, and prepared to be wed as was bid her.'
Now, the little slash of sunlight that danced across the table between them vanished, and the kitchen plunged into gloom lit only by the simmering fire.
Aidan kept his eyes on Jude's, fascinated by what he saw in them. Dreams and sadness and wishes.
'On first hearing, Carrick gave way to a black temper and sent the lightning and thunder and wind to whip and crash over the hills and down to the sea. And the villagers, the farmers and fishermen trembled, but Lady Gwen sat quiet in. her cottage and saw to her mending.'
'He could have just taken her into the raft,' Jude interrupted, 'and kept her for a hundred years.'
'Ah, so you know something of how it's done.' Those blue eyes warmed with approval. 'True enough he could have snatched her away, but in his pride he wanted her to come to him willing. In this way the gentry aren't so very different from ordinary people.'
He angled his head, studying her face. 'Would you rather be snatched up and away without a choice or romanced and courted?'
'Since I don't think one of the Good People is going to come along and do either in my case, I don't have to decide. I'd rather know what Carrick did.'
'All right, then, I'll tell you. At dawn Carrick mounted his winged horse and flew up to the sun. He gathered fire from it, formed dazzling diamonds from it, and put them in a silver sack. And these flaming and magic jewels he brought to her at her cottage. When she went out to meet him, he spilled them at her feet, and said to her, 'I've brought you jewels from the sun. These are my passion for you. Take them, and me, for I will give you all I have, and more.' But she refused, telling him she was promised to another. Duty held her and pride him as they parted, leaving the jewels lying among the flowers.
'And so they became flowers.'
When Jude shuddered, Aidan reached for her hand. 'Are you cold, then?'
'No.' She forced a smile, deliberately freed her hand and picked up her tea, sipping slowly to soothe away the flutter in her throat.
She knew the story. She could see it, the magnificent horse, the lovely woman, the man who wasn't a man, and the fiery blaze of diamonds on the ground.
She had seen it, all of it, in her dreams.
'No, I'm fine. I think my grandmother must have told me some version of this.'
'There's more yet.'
'Oh.' She sipped again, made an effort to relax. 'What happened next?'
'On the day she married the fisherman, her father died. It was as if he'd held on to his life, with all its pains, until he was assured his Gwen was safe and cared for. So, her husband moved into the cottage, and left her before the sun rose every day to go out and cast his nets. And their life settled into a contentment and order.'
When he paused, Jude frowned. 'But that can't be all.'
Aidan smiled, sampled his tea. Like any good storyteller, he knew how to change rhythm to hold interest. 'Did I say it was? No, indeed, it's not all. For you see, Carrick, he could not forget her. She was in his heart. While Gwen was living her life as was expected of her, Carrick lost his joy in music and in laughter. One night, in great despair, he mounted his horse once again and flew up to the moon, gathering its light, which turned to pearls in his silver bag. Once more he went to her, and though she carried her first child in her womb, she slipped out of her husband's bed to meet him.
''These are tears of the moon,' he told her. 'They are my longing for you. Take them, and me, for I will give you all I have, and more.' Again, though tears of her own spilled onto her cheeks, she refused him. For she belonged to another, had his child inside her, and would not betray her vow. Once more they parted, duty and pride, and the pearls that lay on the ground became moonflowers.
'So the years passed, with Carrick grieving and Lady Gwen doing what was expected of her. She birthed her children, and took joy in them. She tended her flowers, and she remembered love. For though her husband was a good man, he had never touched her heart in its deepest chambers. And she grew old, her face and her body aging, while her heart stayed young with the wistful wishes of a maid.'
'It's sad.'
''Tis, yes, but not yet over. As time is different for faeries than for mortals, one day Carrick mounted his winged horse and flew out over the sea, and dived deep, deep into it to find its heart. There, the pulse of it flowed into his silver bag and became sapphires. These he took to Lady Gwen, whose children had children now, whose hair had gone white and whose eyes had grown dim. But all the faerie prince saw was the maid he loved and longed for. At her feet, he spilled the sapphires. 'These are the heart of the sea. They are my constancy. Take them, and me, for I will give you all I have, and more.'
'And this time, with the wisdom of age, she saw what she had done by turning away love for duty. For never once trusting her heart. And what he had done, for offering jewels, but not giving her the one thing that may have swayed her to him.'
Without realizing it, Aidan closed his fingers over Jude's on the table. As they linked together, that little sunbeam danced back.
'And that it was the words of love-rather than passion, rather than longing, even rather than constancy-she'd needed. But now she was old and bent, and she knew as the faerie prince couldn't, not being mortal, that it was too late. She wept the bitter tears of an old woman and told him that her life was ended. And she said that if he had brought her love rather than jewels, had spoken of love rather than passion, and longing and constancy, her heart might have won over duty. He had been too proud, she said, and she too blind to see her heart's desire.
'Her words angered him, for he had brought her love, time and again, in the only way he knew. And this time before he walked away from her, he cast a spell. She would wander and she would wait, as he had, year after year, alone and lonely, until true hearts met and accepted the gifts he had offered her. Three times to meet, three times to accept before the spell could be broken. He mounted and flew into the night, and the jewels at her feet again became flowers. She died that very night, and on her grave flowers sprang up season to season while the spirit of Lady Gwen, lovely as the young maid, waits and weeps for love lost.'
Jude felt weepy herself and oddly unsettled. 'Why didn't he take her away then, tell her it didn't matter?'
'That's not the way it happened. And wouldn't you say, Jude Frances, that the moral is to trust your heart, and never turn away from love?'
She caught herself, and realizing she'd been too wrapped up in the tale, even as her hand was in his, drew back. 'It might be, or that following duty provides you with a long, contented life if not a flashy one. Jewels weren't the answer, however impressive. He should have looked back to see them turn into flowers-flowers she kept.'
'As I said, you've a strong mind. Aye, she kept his flowers.' Aidan flicked a finger over the petals in the bottle. 'She was a simple woman with simple ways. But there's a bigger point to the tale.'
'Which would be?'
'Love.' Over the blooms, his eyes met hers. 'Love, whatever the time, whatever the obstacles, lasts. They're only waiting now for the spell to run its course, then she'll join him in his silver palace beneath the faerie hill.'
She had to pull herself out of the story and into the reasoning, she reminded herself. The analysis. 'Legends often have strings attached. Quests, tasks, provisions. Even in folklore the prize rarely comes free. The symbolism in this one is traditional. The motherless maid caring for her aging father, the young prince on a white horse. The use of the elements: sun, moon, sea. Little is said about the man she married, as he's only a vehicle used to keep the lovers apart.'
Busily making notes, she glanced up, saw Aidan studying her thoughtfully. 'What?'
'It's appealing, the way you shift back and forth.'
'I don't know what you mean.'
'When I'm telling it to you, you're all dreamy-eyed and going soft, now here you are, sitting up straight and
