Highland Magic (20 page)

“Whoa!” Callum yelled,
pulling hard on the reins and jumping off his bay.
“
Branwenn!
Are
you all right?”

Branwenn rolled onto her knees and stood,
rubbing her abused backside with one hand. “Aye,” she said
sheepishly.

Callum continued to study her a moment, but
then his eye stalled on the brown pouch, it’s string closure
wrapped around her wrist. “Where did you get that?” he asked
darkly. ‘Twas an accusation.

Tipping her chin up and looking down her nose
at him, she said, “‘Tis none of your concern.”

Callum’s green eyes burned into her. “Aye,
‘tis definitely my concern, if you seek to use those herbs to make
my babe flush from your womb.”

Branwenn’s eyes grew round.
“Your...your...your
babe
?!” she sputtered.

“Aye, my
babe
.”

Branwenn shook her head in wonder. “But, I
carry not your babe, as well you know, for you made quite certain
of that each time we”—she fluttered her hand in the air—“you know.”
She grabbed a fist-full of the skirt of her gown. “Do you forget,
this very gown I wear has more likelihood of that outcome than do
I?”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you do not attempt to
lose my bairn?”

“NAY!” she bellowed, and then: “Are you deaf,
or only simple-minded?”

Callum’s stance relaxed. A
soft smile lit his countenance and his warm gaze heated her skin as
it made a slow journey down her frame. “What have you in that pouch
then, my wee
fey Mai
?” he said, his voice deep, smooth, sultry. He walked up to
her and took hold of her wrist—the one with the pouch attached—and
brought its underside up to his lips. He kissed her there, on the
tender, sensitive skin that sheltered her now-leaping pulse and
followed that with a deliciously evocative lick. “I’ve missed you.
Have you missed me?” he asked softly. There was a twinkle in his
eye as he looked up at her through half-closed lids.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She
swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “Uhh,” she croaked,
“ahem...aye, I mean.” She couldn’t catch her breath. He did that to
her. He turned her mind to mush and then the next thing she knew,
they were mating like rabbits again. “Callum, stop. Please.”

“But you taste so sweet, like rose petals
dipped in honey.” His lips lightly traveled to the string of the
pouch. He began to nibble at it with his teeth. His teeth, his
moist breath, tickled the thin skin there and goosebumps formed on
her arms. “What’s in the pouch, Branwenn?”

Oh, what was the use? He’d no doubt find it
ever so amusing when she told him, but her only other option was to
stand here and allow him to seduce her instead. And she had no
doubt that the outcome would be the same in any case. He’d have her
so dull-witted with need for him, that he’d wrangle the truth from
her before the last spark was extinguished.

“‘Tis a love potion,” she said finally.

His head sprang up and he
dropped her wrist as if burned. “A
love
potion?” His eyes narrowed.
“For whom is that potion intended? Not that new guard I saw you
speaking with this eve past?”

“Nay, you dolt! The
potion’s for
me
!”
She dropped her chin to her chest and mumbled, “and
you.”

“You...and
me
? He crowded into her,
their bodies no farther apart than the finest of gossamer silk. He
rested his hands on her waist and dipped his head so that his lips
brushed her ear as he asked in a smoky whisper, “Do you love me,
Branwenn?”

She shrugged.

She felt his smile against
her ear and then he said, his voice low, so low, so intoxicating,
the vibration of it traveled, like warm mead, down deep inside her
to her womb, “Why ever would you think you needed to give
me
a love potion? Has it
not been plain, as plain as...as...well, as plain as the freckle on
your lovely left breast,”—her cheeks flamed at that reminder—“that
I already love you? Nay, more, I
adore
you. I cannot get through one
moment of the day without thinking of you?” He took her hand and
placed her open palm on his cheek. “Wed me, Branwenn. Wed me, have
babes with me, make love to me every day, build a life with me. Wed
me.”

“Aaayye,” Branwenn said. ‘Twas a sigh. But
there was joy in her voice and joy in that word when she said it.
“And I do! I do love you!”

“Praise be,” he said reverently. Then he
kissed her to seal the promise.

* * *

A short time later, as they walked
hand-in-hand across the glen, Callum asked softly, a bit warily,
“So...you will wed me then? No more uncertainty?” He bent forward a
bit and craned his neck in order to see her profile.

There was only a twinkling of a second’s
hesitation before a bright smile split her countenance. When she
looked at him, there was no doubt. Love shown there. “Aye, I’ll wed
you. I already said I would, remember? Back there?”—she pointed
behind her—“Five minutes ago?” she teased. “When?”

Callum let out a loud
‘
whoop!
’ and
threw his arms around her waist. He began to spin her
around.

“Caaallum!” she squealed.

“Now! The morrow! Soon!” he yelled and then
he tossed his head back and laughed.

Branwenn relaxed in his embrace and threw her
hands up in the air, joyous laughter bubbling from her throat as
she allowed herself to enjoy the revolving view. Was there ever a
more beautiful, perfect day?

* * *

Later, as they lay on their backs in the
tall, brown-of-winter, meadow grass and gazed up at the white
clouds as they moved slowly across the pale blue sky, Branwenn’s
thoughts turned to the reason for Callum’s anger. “Want you many
bairns, then?” she asked, turning her head to watch his expression
as he answered.

He smiled a bit sheepishly and turned his
head also. Looking into her eyes he said, “Aye. At least five”—her
eyes widened and he turned on his side and raised up on an
elbow—“but, we already have one—two, if you count David,” he rushed
to say.

Branwenn’s smile turned tender. She lifted
her hand and softly moved the hair that had fallen over his brow
away from his eyes. “That will be fine then.”

Callum bent his head and kissed her gently.
“My thanks,” he whispered. Rising above her, he settled between her
thighs and began brushing soft kisses over her eyes, her nose, her
cheeks. “You are, by far, the loveliest, most finely fair lass I’ve
ever met.”

“Caaallummm,” she said on a sigh, her eyes
closed as she drifted along the sensual stream he brought her down.
Her eyes flew open. “But what of Maryn?” ‘Twas an accusation. “And,
tell me not that you did not find the fair Jesslyn to your liking
as well—the two of you were betrothed.”

Callum, his fingers twined through her hair
and her head cradled in his palms, lifted his head and studied her.
“‘Tis truth, I believe, that first day we met all those moons
ago—remember?” He waited for her nod before continuing, “I believe
‘twas the day my childish, selfish love for Maryn took its last
breath. I shall tell you this now, for you’ve made it clear that
you want plain talk henceforth.” Branwenn gave him a vigorous nod.
Callum grinned and placed a quick peck on the tip of her nose
before saying, “I wanted you that day. In fact, I had every
intention of returning to the Maclean holding with my cousins after
the negotiations were concluded and wooing you.” He chuckled,
shaking his head and looking off in the distance a moment, before
turning his sights back on her. “Both your brothers—especially
Daniel—saw that I was attracted. But, my pride, still sore from his
winning all that I’d lost, made me hide my desire with some evasion
or another.

Branwenn’s eyes widened, her lips tipped up
in mirth—and utter happiness. “Truly? Even after I scrubbed your
kiss from my hand?”

“Aye.” Callum grinned.
“Mayhap
mostly
because you’d done such.” He sighed. “But, then, I was made
the prize in the negotiations between the clans, and it became my
duty to wed Laird Gordon’s daughter to settle the dispute. My plan
to woo you was lost to me for evermore, or so I
thought.”

Branwenn had barely heard
the last, so intrigued was she still by the notion that Callum had
actually been attracted to her all those moons ago—had intended
to
woo
her.
“But—my hair! I was so ugly—”

Callum stiffened. “You
were
not
ugly!”
he said, as if she’d given the insult to him.

She shook her head, though there was little
movement, as he held it in his hands. “How could you like me
then?”

His smoldering green eyes scanned her face a
moment before he replied, “As I said, you are the loveliest
creature I’ve ever seen. My heart skips a beat each time my eyes
rest on you—did you know that?”

Branwenn’s eyes misted. She had to swallow
past the lump in her throat before she could answer. “Nay,” she
whispered thickly and sniffled.

“I adore you, Branwenn.” Callum gave in to
his craving, dipping his head and kissing her. Hard and long. His
desire grew so quickly out of control that he fisted his hands in
her hair and ground his hard sex against the
frustratingly-still-covered flower of her femininity. With a
shaking hand, he dragged the thick material up, over her hips and
did the same with his tunic and shirt before quickly unlacing his
braies. “Open,” was all he said. ‘Twas a plea—and a demand.

She did just that. “I want you inside me.
Now,” she ground out. She knew she wasn’t yet prepared, but the
need to have him fill her after so long a time outweighed the
natural aversion to the sting it would cause when he at first
entered her.

“Aye,” Callum said, but he took a second—a
small second—to prepare her a little, even using a bit of his own
saliva to lessen the damp resistance before he pushed inside her as
he kissed her. It abraded, but she cared not. She even helped him
by clamping her hands to his hard buttocks and pushing down. She
held her breath until he was fully seated. In the next moment, he
was gently rocking into her, using his manhood to entice her canal
to give up its juices. “God, you are so perfect. A perfect fit for
me,” he said, his voice strained. Suddenly he threw his head back.
“Aaahhh!” He stopped moving. His entire frame shuddered violently
and his breath was harsh, labored. He dipped his head, resting it
on her shoulder. “God, I almost came just then.”

“Good.”

He turned his head and looked at her. “Nay,
not good. I am still determined that you will not be with child
when we wed. This marriage will have no scandal attached to it, as
my previous one did.”

“But this is different!
We
love
each
other; we
want
to
make babes together!”

He lifted up and began
kissing her cheek, her neck, nuzzling her just below her ear. He
brought his mouth to her lobe and nibbled it a moment, slowly
beginning to move his hips once more in the ancient rhythm they’d
come to know so well together in the sennights prior to the
conclusion of their affair. “Aye,” he said at last, the hot breath
and vibration of his deep voice teasing her ear canal as he spoke
into it, “but
after
we are well-wed, my love.”

A desperate need for release unfurled within
her womb, making her move her hips in tandem with his, making her
meet him halfway, making her take him deeper with each new thrust.
She tossed her head, feeling the dew from her exertion form on her
hot skin.

Callum felt the first
contractions of her canal and moved with more speed in and out of
her, forcing the climax he knew she was on the verge of having. In
seconds, she was crying out his name, yanking and clawing at the
cloth of his tunic covering his back.
Beautiful
. The word flitted across
his sex-fogged mind as he watched her sensual delight peak and then
slowly settle into tired contentment.

He was close now himself. He gave her one
last, long, deep-throated kiss as he took his pleasure of her. In
the next moment, his seed began to rise. He jerked out of her.
“Aargh!” he cried, his body spasming in reaction to the
pleasure-pain of leaving her to complete the process outside her
loving cavity. Her small, warm hand settled around him and stroked
rapidly. He was lost to the pleasure then, and in seconds he was
spewing his seed—on her gown.

“What a waste,” she said chidingly. But there
was humor in it as well, for the dimple in her cheek was in clear
evidence. “At least I know now ‘twill not stain.”

Callum rolled over onto his back and threw
his forearm over his eyes. “Lord, but you are getting quite good at
that.”

Branwenn grinned, rising up and resting her
chin on the arm she lay over his heaving chest. “Truly?”

He cocked his head slightly and, opening one
eye, peered out from under his arm at her. He grinned too. “Aye, my
wee sea sprite. You’ve got me under your spell now. Do with me as
you will—for, ‘tis truth, that I have none left where you are
concerned.”

Branwenn giggled. A thought
struck her then. A very unnerving thought that harkened back to
their earlier conversation. “Did you...do”—she fluttered her hand
in the air, waving it over their bodies
quickly—“
this
...with Jesslyn? I mean, when you were betrothed?”

A bit more recovered from the intense release
he’d just received at the hand of his faery lover, Callum’s sense
of humor kicked in. He rolled to his side and straddled her,
tickling her ribs. “What think you?”