A Faerie Fated Forever (25 page)

They loved amidst the profusion of wildflowers. Nial decorated her long rainbow of brown curls with chains of orchids, and then threaded her feminine lower locks with sprigs of rape. She insisted on returning the favor, and incongruously adorned his chest hair with rape and wove a garland of sunflowers and orchids round his phallus, which was at rest when she started, and wildly aroused as she neared the end of the task. He writhed beneath her hands as she worked, so she repaid him by teasing him where he was most sensitive with the trailing ends of the flowers.

Somehow it didn’t seem at all manly to become so aroused by the tickle of flower petals, but held by his fate he sprawled his legs and grinned at her play. He made an erotic picture lying wantonly in the field of yellow, with his brawny muscular chest glistening with sweat and decorated with blossoms. Even as she felt the itchy ache of desire between her thighs, she felt more strongly a vibrant sense of control, a sense of owning this encounter. So she continued her light touch, trailing only the blossoms over his turgid manhood.

“Heather,” he groaned, “I don’t want to…”

“Don’t want to? It looks like you do want to. It looks like you want to very much.” Her smile was pure temptress as she plucked a long blade of grass and used it with the brush of the petals. The brush of the blade was more direct, and a pulse of pleasure escaped his control. She smiled down at it, as much the triumphant female as he had been the conquering male earlier.

He clenched his muscles against the pleasure as he said, “Wanton wench. I don’t mind you playing but I don’t want to come from flowers, love. Don’t,” he said as she reached down to the other end of the flowers and trailed them against his full balls. “Don’t,” he groaned, even as he thrust his balls up to give her greater access. “Baby, ahh God,” he said as he bent his knees and flexed against the sensation tearing through his nether regions.

When he flexed he wasn’t clenching and another burst of milky pleasure emerged and trailed down amidst the winding stem of flowers. “Mmmm” she said as the sight lured her to play at the top again. She continued the tormenting touches with only the flowers, even when he pleaded with her to use her fingers. In the end, she set the scene and the pace and she controlled how he enjoyed it. At her choice, he unraveled slowly, a single burst at a time, until his control eroded completely, and he came in a torrent of milky white that plastered the blossoms to his staff.

When it was over, he tried to hold on to his resentment. But she leaned over and said tenderly against his lips, “Nial, I love you so much. ” At that, he found that like his control, the resentment had vanished and he could feel only the love for her that was so strong and potent that it overwhelmed even his sense of himself.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her up then, saying, “I feel the need for a bath.”

He pulled her under the waterfall, and made her smile. “Love, promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I just let you do.”

She started to crack a joke, but then saw that he was serious. “Nial, it was beautiful and a memory I’ll treasure when we are both too old to play in wildflowers and waterfalls. It was also my turn.”

“Your turn?”

“You may be the boss in public – or at least from the outside it might look that way – but in private, I get a turn and a voice.”

“I’m glad to have her back again.”

“What?”

“My friend. I feared perhaps in the blaze of passion we had lost the quiet friendship that even a dunce like me recognized from the first.” He considered the novel idea for a moment before he acknowledged his acceptance. “Yes, my friend would need a voice and if that friend was also my lover, I suppose she would need a turn as well.”

Her beaming smile was his reward, but he claimed another as well. “I will always cherish the memory of today. I will fondly recall you begged for it. How you pleaded with me for it. I’ll well remember how loudly you screamed your pleasure when you finally got it.”

Puzzled, she said, “But Nial, I haven’t done any of those things.”

He positioned her on a rock and spread her legs so that the cascading waterfall fell directly on her cleft. She writhed from the sensation even before he spread the outer lips apart with his fingers. Then the cascade fell directly and endlessly on the already engorged and normally hidden inner nub. She was already moaning and thrusting to meet the water as he smiled and said, “It’s my turn and you will do all of those things, love. Starting right now.”

******

They had docked at Skye with the morning mist. The twilight Scottish evening accompanied their walk back to the Castle. Hand in hand with smiles of contentment, and similarly stained and torn clothing, they mounted the steps. Both ignored the raised eyebrows and grunts of disapproval from various clan members. Business called, but Nial said quite firmly that he would settle Heather in his room before he returned to attend to any urgent matters.

Several ladies had kept themselves fetchingly arranged about the castle all day long as they awaited the laird’s return. Each one knew that she could lure Nial away from the interloper. His eye would land on her when he walked in and he would spirit her away to teach her all of his masculine secrets.

The couple’s appearance was discouraging enough but now he confronted the combined disapproval of the clan elders and Heather’s English Aunt and Uncle to openly have her in his bed before the vows were said. Well, the ladies were confident that the elders would win that battle, and leave them free to pounce in the nighttime hours as they planned.

“Now see here, Nial,” Shamus said firmly, “until Heather is your bride you would shame her by having her in your bed. It is improper and we will not have it.”

“Well said,” John Crandle spoke up. “This haste is unseemly. It is clear enough across the Kingdom that she will not go to your bed a virgin. Surely you can contain yourself until the vows are said young man. By all rights Heather should return to her home until the wedding.”

Nial kept a hand on one of Heather’s shoulders and throughout the irate sermonizing about propriety, his teeth and his tongue played with her unbound hair. He reached down to whisper that she had a sprig of orchid they missed when the silence indicated that it was time for him to speak again. Rumpled and unkempt he might be, but it was the Laird of the Clan Maclee who spoke, leaving no doubt that his was the voice of command. “Heather is mine. I did not dishonor her. Laird MacIver has held his tongue because he knows that I claimed Heather publicly before I made her mine privately.”

He continued, and faced the Englishman, “You seem concerned about the vows being spoken. I can assure you that your haste does not begin to match the urgency I feel. I put up with the need for pomp because the ceremony seems important to my lady. But I can assure you, I will gladly dispense with all of it. Heather will sleep in my bed with me on this night and on every night that follows. If you wish the vows to be said first then bring on the priest.”

Bonnie said, “I will not be denied my right to see my daughter wed with proper ceremony. If it doesn’t bother me and Carrick that Heather belongs with Nial, then I don’t think any of you have the right to object.”

Nial challenged the others with his gaze. John Crandle was working to hold his tongue. Boz winked at him, and at that gesture, he shepherded Heather upstairs to his room. A knock at the door brought maids and footmen fetching Heather’s belongings, and as a maid began to help her unpack he heard another knock and turned to find Boz standing there uneasily.

He stepped outside the room at the other man’s gesture. Boz paced at the end of the hall, periodically stopping to stare out the window. His cousin’s unease quickly transferred to the laird who didn’t waste words.

“What’s up?”

“Damn,” Sedgewick thrust a hand through his hair and then put it to his forehead. He turned to face the window and then turned back abruptly to the other man.

“Boz?” Nial’s demand was more strident, as his cousin’s reluctance to speak of what brought him upstairs became more than evident.

“It’s the bloody Sedgewick sixth sense. I fear that you will not react well no matter how I say it so I’m just going to say it, straight out. I sense danger here. Great danger.”

“For me? A challenge as laird, perhaps?” Nial had faced a number of those from warriors who thought a “pretty boy” should not lead them. Each died on his blade.

“No. Danger to Heather.”

Nial gave the Maclee call to arms before another second passed.

Boz snarled, “You are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? You tell me there is danger to Heather and if that is true I will protect her no matter what it takes.”

Behind them, the hallway filled with warriors from two clans, all armed for battle and all confused about why they had been summoned to a hallway where the closest thing to a threat they saw was a disagreement between two unarmed men.

Alarmed by all the noise, Heather rose from her bath and threw on her robe, which clung to her damp curves like a second skin. She stepped in the hallway to investigate.

Male appreciation flared in every set of male eyes, including his cousin’s. “Stop it,” Nial hissed to Boz who only shrugged. Then he stepped in front of his lady, as grumbles of protest surrounded him.

He leaned over to plant a brief but openly possessive kiss on her lips as he pushed her back into the room. “Would you display the bounty that should be for my eyes alone for the admiration of both our clans my love? Please stay here and I will be with you in a moment.”

He returned to the hallway. “I ask again, does any here wish to challenge me for my lady?” No voices raised in challenge, and after a moment longer, he called his two stoutest warriors and assigned them to guard his lady’s door. He ordered the others to disband, and the hallway emptied of all but the elders, Carrick and Boz, who still regarded him warily.

“Where is the threat?” The MacIver demanded.

Boz explained what the Sedgewick sixth sense had revealed. It was a bit hard for the elders or Carrick who had not seen that force in action to take seriously any claimed threat, but the laird knew better.

Hugh said, "I think, perhaps, Laird, ye've grown a wee bit overprotective of the lass." All the heads in the hallway nodded agreement, save Boz's. "Come downstairs now to attend to business and surely this worry will pass."

Nial reluctantly agreed, but about halfway down the hall, he remembered that he now owed someone an account of his whereabouts. The rapid spurt of male resentment was involuntary, but when he recalled the threat, he knew he would gladly make the adjustments marriage would require.

Curtailment of some of his freedom was a small price to have her in his life. Who or what threatened to take her from him?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The scene outside distressed her, so Heather was doing some pacing of her own as Nial explained the threat. She appreciated his concern even if she couldn’t take any of it seriously. She smiled and nodded at his rather lengthy lecture about how she wasn’t to go anywhere unguarded. Her ready agreement pleased him and he lowered his mouth for a brief farewell kiss as he explained that he must attend some clan business and would see her at dinner.

Unfortunately for the elders who waited at the top of the stairs, Heather wore only her robe which still clung to the dewy wetness of her body. Nial felt safe kissing her, because today’s romps surely drained him. He still told himself that as his hands went to the tie of her robe. He still told himself that as he willingly moved back a step to allow her hands to go to the buttons of his shirt as she murmured that she wanted to feel his bare chest against hers. He still told himself that as his mouth bent to suckle her nipples.

It was only when his fingers found the moisture beckoning his pressing need to come inside and play that he stopped lying to himself. As he began pushing her down on the mattress, she said, “I thought you were heading downstairs to attend to pressing clan business.”

As he ripped off the rest of his clothing he said, “To hell with the rest of the world. I only need you.”

She was still smiling when he pressed his entry home.

******

The elders tired of the wait so Raibert walked back down the hallway, intending to knock at the door. The guards smiled with admiration and refused to allow the elder near the door.

“What keeps him?” Raibert asked testily.

Sounds from within drifted to the hallway, a low male laugh followed by a female moaning and saying, “Now right now.”

One of the guards said, “To a man, the warriors of both clans have ever increasing admiration for the laird’s stamina. We also fear that our own wives may try to measure us by his standards.”

The other warrior agreed. “All the men will have to go to the healer for supplements and potions to be sure that we measure up.”

Old Raibert turned testily and bade the warriors to remind the laird that he was needed downstairs as soon as he had finished “tending the need upstairs.” He then rejoined the clan and all shook their heads in amazement when he explained the delay. As they waited downstairs, several grumbled that “this marriage might not be such a good thing after all” because none had expected that the laird would be so taken with the lady that he neglected business. No lady came before the clan.

******

More than an hour later, a contented Nial made his way downstairs. He joined the elders in the large chamber adjacent to the courtyard to hear petitions. There were two men who wanted the hand of the same woman in marriage, and in view of his new knowledge of matters of the heart, the case caught his attention.

Prosperous and able warriors, both men brought important skills in battle. They stood arguing about who should have the “right” to the woman who stood between the pair with downcast eyes, showing no preference. Nial glanced over the gathering, and saw one of the younger warriors being restrained by an older veteran. He recognized the angry young warrior as Brian and called him forward, surprising the parties before him and those in the audience.

He watched Cait, the maiden. She showed no reaction to the verbal combat of the two warriors who fought for her hand, but the young and comely Brian received a smile lit with the deep glow Nial recognized as passion. So he gave each warrior a command. “Explain why you want to marry Cait.” Each argued that his contributions entitled him to the woman and that there were many reasons why the other should not have her.

When they finished, Nial turned to Brian. “I saw anger on your face as these two verbally jousted over their entitlement to the lass. Do you wish to make a claim to this woman?”

The young warrior glanced back to his comrades who hissed “noo” and “have a care for your future man.” Brian clenched his hands, and shook his head to deny a claim, until Cait placed a hand on his arm and he met her eyes. His words came straight from his heart as he stared into the eyes sparkling up at him. “Laird, I know that I can not claim to have spent the years battling for the clan that these two have. My need for her does not come from what I think is due me, for I admit that what is due me is less than that due these men. My need for Cait is that I love her and can not imagine life without her. I believe that she feels the same.”

The warriors scoffed. Laird Nial would hardly consider such a paltry emotional issue when deciding the future of the clan. Their first surprise came when the laird turned to the lass.

“Cait. Look at me,” he instructed. She did and her dark brown eyes held barely restrained tears. Nial smiled then and gently said, “You have not stated a position lady. What would your choice be and why?”

At first she couldn’t speak for her tears. The older warriors crossed their arms and glared at her in demand. Brian took out his handkerchief and crossed to murmur soothing words and wipe away the tears with a tender touch. She spoke then, saying, “Laird Nial, my parents have cautioned me to look to finances and the power of the two older warriors. But that is not what is in my heart. I love Brian and would trade all the power and security that there is for just a score of nights as his wife."

Nial smiled as both young people looked at him with eyes that contained no hope. The laird would look to the future of the clan and weighed against that, two paltry hearts just wouldn’t measure up. His words astonished the entire gathering.

“Had this matter come before me six months ago, I’d have ordered a challenge combat between my two senior warriors for the hand of this lovely lady. Brian and Cait may thank the faeries that I am not the man I was such a short time ago. Today, I have all confidence that the love these two young people bear for each other will make a fine marriage. I am also certain that this marriage will guarantee the loyalty and commitment of both to the Clan Maclee. Go and seek the priest and say the vows and fear no retribution from the elder warriors.”

Brian grabbed Cait’s hand and with happy smiles, they ran out of the room. Nial watched them go and saw the lad place a hand on the lady’s rear and speculated that the trip to the priest might be delayed for a few moments. Then he summoned the unhappy older warriors to him. His words and his criticism were harsh.

“I am displeased with both of you. Your words were of rights and entitlement and neither of you bore love for the lady. You would have created lives of misery for each other, the young lady, Brian and his future wife, and all of the children you all would bear. Do not return to me to petition for the hand of a young lady until you can look me in the eye and assure me that the one thing you bring to the union is the love in your heart that will have her and no other. If I hear of mischief or discord for the young people or their families, you will be punished with the full might of my power. Do you understand?”

The two shifted their eyes and tried to pass of nods as agreement, but Nial repeated his question. “Do you understand?”

Both reluctantly met his eyes and said “Yes, Laird,” before they fled his presence, likely to seek joint comfort from some whiskey.

Nial heard a barely stifled sob and saw that Heather had entered without his notice. Her eyes conveyed her approval of his judgment. They spoke loudly of her love and her support, and his smile excluded the rest of the crowded room.

Then Hugh stepped forward, with three couples beside him. “Laird, I would now bring before you a matter of some delicacy. Sorcha’s former cottage is closer to the castle and larger than that of these couples who would claim it. We have held it closed until your return and your decision. What say you?”

Nial saw Heather turn to leave the room. They had not reached their present union to allow that woman’s evil to diminish it. He stood and called to her.

“Heather, my love,” he said, ignoring gasps from the roomful of people who were astonished that their laird showed affection so openly. “Please join me.”

She wanted to argue, but could not challenge him when he sat as Laird Maclee. So she reluctantly came forward, stopping a few feet away from where he sat. He would have none of that. The love he bore her was so immense and overpowering that he suspected his clan would have to accustom themselves to some quite public displays of affection. He may as well start as he would continue. With the latter thought, he pulled Heather’s hand and continued to pull until she nestled in his lap.

She was a Highland lass, and was herself surprised that he would show his affection before others while he sat as the Maclee.

“Nial?” She asked quietly, for his ears alone.

He responded by tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. His gaze was open and filled with love for her that he made no effort to conceal or disguise. He feathered his fingers over her lips and smiled when hers helplessly parted.

“Nothing and no one will come between us. Her name will come up now and again and when it does, I ask that you remember the foolish idiot who nearly threw away everything he had sought his entire life. I also ask that you recall your generosity in allowing him a second chance. Perhaps you can teach our children the merits of second chances,” he said. She could not speak past the ball of emotion in her throat and merely nodded.

It was enough for he turned to the others who shifted uncomfortably and tried to look anywhere in the room but at him and the lady he held on his lap. He laughed heartily at their unease. “I recommend that you get used to such behavior. Now tell me of each of the families who would claim the cottage.”

Hugh spoke well of each couple, and the first two met his eyes easily. The third couple was different. Heavily burdened with child, the lady held the hand of a toddler. Brighde met his eyes easily. Her husband, Uilleam, was a brawny warrior who had been much admired by the young ladies before his marriage. Nial recalled attending the wedding and suddenly remembered seeing the witch there. Sorcha’s eyes had measured the groom with sensual intent that bespoke her familiarity, which she didn’t bother to hide. When Uilleam left to seek privacy in the forest, the black widow followed. That event stuck in his mind because she had been pulling down the top of her gown to reveal her breasts before the trees hid her. She glanced directly at Nial then, knowing he watched as she played with herself and she winked. With shame, he remembered that he had envied the young bridegroom the attentions of the widow on the eve of his wedding to the virtuous maiden. “A frolic with the forbidden before seeking tamer pastures,” he recalled thinking.

He called to the other man, “Uilleam?” The man’s eyes snapped to his. A look of male understanding passed between them. Nial knew that Uilleam had betrayed his marital vows with Sorcha and carried that as the largest regret of his life.

Obtaining vengeance beyond the grave generally presents an impossible challenge, but sometimes fate is partial to second chances. Nial awarded the house to Uilleam and his wife without verbal explanation but the man’s gaze said he knew why the laird had given his family the boon.

Nial motioned Heather up and stood beside her. He was reminded how bright his lady was when she placed a hand on his chest to stop him and leaned over to whisper, “He was with her wasn’t he?”

Nial nodded.

“After his marriage?” She asked pointedly.

Nial nodded again. “I think so.”

“Just remember that you have already had your second chance.”

“I need no more chances, love. In the entire history of my clan, a Maclee laird fortunate enough to find his fated forever has never strayed. I shall not be the first.”

******

She stood and measured his intent a moment longer before conceding the truth of his words and allowing him to take her arm to lead her to the dinner table. He seated her beside him and his thoughts drifted as the fare was passed. She conversed with her mother as he spoke to Boz and Carrick of how long three days could seem when a man was in a hurry. Boz teased him by saying how strange his sudden impatience was and relating tales, clean ones, of Nial’s abundant patience in the past.

Laughter and camaraderie abounded and Nial’s attention was distracted. He nearly missed the movement when a young maid brought a dish to Heather.

Bonnie said, “Heather. In honor of your homecoming I had the cook prepare for you a dish of your favorite pudding.”

Heather took the dish and would have raised a bite to her lips but Nial quickly laid his hand on top of hers to restrain her as he turned to Lady MacIver and asked, “This dish was made for Heather alone?”

Bonnie took offense to the question. “A mother is allowed to spoil her only child a little, Laird Maclee.”

Nial’s eyes hardened, as he repeated his question. “This dish was made for Heather alone?”

Exasperated, Bonnie nearly shouted, “Yes, it was made for her alone, but I’m sure she would share it with you.”

Heather was nodding puzzled agreement when Nial tore the dish from her hands and threw it at the fireplace, where it shattered on the hearth. Complete silence fell over the room, and only Boz’s expression held understanding. The others wondered if this was further evidence that their laird had taken leave of his senses.

As the room lay cloaked in silence one of the hounds walked over to sniff at the dish. The dog began eating eagerly but as it finished, it started choking and gasping for breath and fell over. The healer, Mac, made a quick check, looked up and said, “The dog is dead, laird.”