Highland Vampire (13 page)

Since arriving at the great hall, he had joined his men in toast after toast, and clearly the alcohol he had consumed was making him hallucinate. For surely at any moment he would wake from this erotic, outrageous dream and find himself alone, his rod stiff with wanting, his balls heavy and tight.

This strange, unknown female could not be real. A mysterious raven-haired woman dressed in an unusual-looking gown of scarlet, with eyes as dark as midnight, skin as pale as snow, and hands as bold as a courtesan.

"Why fight it? What is there to keep us from taking our pleasure together?" she breathed raggedly in his ear as she took his hand and placed it on her breast.

For an instant, Callum could not breathe. The air felt weighted, too thick to drag into his lungs. Though his mind insisted she must be a vision, at this moment she felt very solid and real. Nearly every part of his body ached, taut and ready, urgent with desire.

He reached out with his other hand and traced her winged eyebrow with one finger, fighting to understand the impossible allure of this dark, wicked beauty. The passion he felt gathered power and beat through his body in a thundering rush.

"You need not be so gentle, my warrior. I am not in search of tender wooing."

As if to prove her point, she lifted her chin and caught his finger in her mouth. She tongued it playfully, then bit down hard, drawing blood.

"Och!" Callum yelped and tried to extract his wounded digit, but she began to suck on it, holding it deep within the cavity of her warm, wet mouth.

He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure, fantasizing it was his penis so snugly engulfed. Somehow he knew that all he need do was voice his request and the woman would drop to her knees. It was tempting, ahh, so tempting.

"We need more ale and meat pies and another barrel of wine," a calm voice announced. "And ask Rowen to fetch more wood for the kitchen fires. There are several haunches of venison that are only half-roasted."

Maev
! The sound of her familiar voice startled Callum back to reality. Mustering every bit of his considerable will, he dropped the hand clutching the woman's bosom to his side and pulled his finger out of her mouth.

The female whimpered in distress and tried to recapture her prize, but he held her off and swallowed his desire. This was wrong. He knew it in his head, but more importantly, he knew it in his heart.

"Maev, lass, I heard ye calling for help." Callum removed himself from the shadowed archway and brought himself into the light. "Is there anything I can do for ye?"

Maev McClosky placed one delicate hand on her hip and shot her betrothed a withering stare. "Nay, I can manage. Besides, it looks like ye already have yer hands full."

Callum felt a wave of guilty heat rush over his cheeks. He turned toward the archway, but the mysterious woman had disappeared.

"I was returning from the garderobe," he said slowly, raking his hand over his face, trying to piece together in his mind exactly what had happened. "Suddenly a woman appeared, wanting to speak with me. I dinna know who she was—I'm sure I've never seen her before."

"Hmmm." Maev gave him her back and continued issuing orders to the serving lad as if nothing unusual had occurred. Her dismissive gesture increased Callum's guilt tenfold.

He waited until she was finished, then grabbed her hand to prevent her from running away. She turned to him and Callum's heart jolted at the sight of her proud, beautiful face. Her features were refined, her skin fair and smooth, her almond-shaped eyes bright green and intelligent.

He had known her since they were children, but it was only in the past year he had discovered that he loved her. Fiercely, passionately, and with such determined single-mindness that the mere thought of any man so much as looking at her for too long drove his thoughts to murder.

"I put my hand on her breast," he blurted out sheepishly. The priest was always telling him that confession was good for the soul, yet at this moment it did not feel very good.

"Did ye now?" Maev tilted her head to one side and appeared to be considering the matter most carefully. "I suppose I canna blame ye, Callum. Though I caught only a fleeting glimpse of her, she certainly had a magnificent bosom."

Callum did not know what to make of Maev's casual attitude. If the positions had been reversed, he would have already dispatched the man who dared to lay a hand on his future wife to hell. "Ye're supposed to be jealous, Maev."

"Och, I am?"

"Yes, ye are." Callum lifted his lips into his most charming smile. "As nephew of the laird, I am considered a prized matrimonial catch. Yet ye are the woman I have chosen."

"We chose each other." Her eyes sparkled like green fire. "Though when you start acting too full of yerself, I wonder at the sanity of my decision. And dinna be expecting to hear any words of flattery or praise falling from my lips. There are more than enough folks clamoring to fill that role. I swear to the Almighty, if ye hear much more of that kind of talk, yer head will swell so big it willna fit through the door."

Her sharp words were spoken in a teasing manner, and for a moment Callum believed Maev had dismissed the incident. Yet she stood there in thought for several heartbeats, and he watched her face gradually turn troubled. He focused on that lovely face, feeling the pain he had caused her with his thoughtless actions.

"It meant nothing," Callum said, feeling a sudden rush of sobriety. He waited anxiously while Maev considered his words.

"I have to know that I can trust ye," she said solemnly. "Even when the women are practically throwing themselves at ye, questing for yer attention and regard."

He felt his face flush. "Ye can trust me, lass. 'Tis you I love, Maev. Now and always."

Callum stepped forward and ran his hand possessively over her back. Maev was small and delicate; her bones felt fragile beneath his fingers. But within her delicate body was a strong spirit. It was one of the things he admired most about her. She would not be a wife who submitted docilely to his commands, but would question and speak her mind regardless of the consequences.

Once given, her loyalty was unshakable, her support rock solid. With Maev by his side, Callum knew he would be a better leader and, more importantly, a better man.

Using his knuckles, he gently traced a path along her cheekbone up to her temple. He repeated the motion over and over until Maev closed her eyes and swayed toward him.

This simple act of forgiveness unleashed all the desperate love bursting from Callum's heart. He cupped Maev's cheek and slowly bent his head down until their lips met.

She made a mewing sound, and for an instant he feared she protested. But then Callum felt the tremor that ran the length of her body as Maev turned her head to catch his mouth more fully. Unleashing his restraint, Callum parted his lips and slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness.

Her arms lifted and tightened around his neck as she surrendered blissfully, raking her fingers through his hair, arching her body against his. His knees nearly weakened at the need that flowed from her body to his, and he groaned loudly as her eager movement roused the full length of his penis.

Reaching out, he traced a finger along the outer roundness of her breast. Maev gasped with delight and he grew bolder, dragging
his
thumb back and forth across her nipple. Each delicate caress brought forth a shiver of passion in her, and each of those shivers drove his own passion higher and higher.

Even through the layers of clothing, the heat of Maev's flesh seared him. He positioned their bodies so they were pressed hip to hip, with his hardness intimately touching her feminine softness. One hand roamed boldly down the swell of her buttocks, and the blood began to thunder in his head.

"Must we stop, my love?" he groaned, tearing his mouth away from hers, kissing a path along the slender line of her jaw.

"I fear so," she squawked as she sprang back from him.

Holding tightly to his control, Callum sighed heavily. He knew this was coming, though it was always a physical disappointment to hear the verdict. Their heated embraces always ended well before consummation because Maev had decided she needed to remain a virgin until they were wed, and no matter how passionate their lovemaking got, she never strayed from the course.

Maev took another step away from him, then cast him a strange, sideline glance. He sensed her sudden anxiety. Perhaps seeing him intimately engaged with the mysterious stranger was causing her to rethink her decision about their physical relationship.

Yet as much as he longed to possess her completely, he did not want to win her under those circumstances. Maev deserved better.

Her absence from his embrace left Callum with an ache of emptiness, as if an essential part of his being was gone. Knowing he could at least alleviate that discomfort, he slid his arm around Maev's shoulders and drew her to nestle against his chest. She trembled, and he ran his hand beneath her hair to gently caress the nape of her neck.

“I'm sure ye think me daft for insisting that we wait until we are wed," Maev whispered. She let out a shuddering breath. "'Tis just that it means so much to me."

Her words faltered. Callum sighed again, tipped his head, and planted feather-like kisses on her eyebrows, cheeks, and chin. This enforced celibacy was one of the most difficult things he ever had to endure, but it was so important to Maev and therefore important to him.

"I think ye are determined to test my warrior's strength, Maev McClosky," Callum said in a light teasing tone. "And though I might be suffering, lass, I'll not be broken."

"Aye," she answered with a sudden smile. "There's no one in all of Scotland that can best ye."

"Flattery, Maev? Do ye dare risk it?" Callum wiggled his brows in an exaggerated motion. "Willna my head be swelling too big for the doorway?"

"Yer head is the least of the swelling parts that concern me at the moment, Callum McGinnis," Maev replied with a saucy wink. "Now stop yer teasing and come help me carry up a fresh barrel of ale."

With a good-natured groan, he followed her out of the hall, hardly believing he took no offense at having to perform such a menial task. When feeling bold, his men dared to tease him about his devotion to his future wife, but Callum turned a deaf ear to their jests.

Respect. It was not an emotion he ever expected to feel in connection to any woman, but Maev inspired it in him. She was everything he wanted, and more, and he ached with the truth of knowing he would never love another living creature as much as he loved Maev.

The sky was dark, with the clouds hanging low and leaden, but Anaxandra knew dawn was fast approaching.

"We must seek shelter," Randulf urged, and though she longed to disagree, Anaxandra knew she had no choice.

They were creatures of the night, part of a race of immortals that could not tolerate even the slightest kiss of sunlight. To do so would cause great pain and threaten their survival.

"I remember a section of caves located on the far side of the mountain," Anaxandra said. "If we hurry, we should reach them before the light appears."

Randulf nodded. They drove the horses to a full gallop, then abandoned the animals when the climb became too steep. With the waning moon as their guide, they trudged through the mist that enveloped their feet and legs, searching with increasing desperation for a cave deep enough to shut out the sunlight.

"Here, I've found one," Randulf declared with relief. "The opening is not very large, but the cavern is deep."

"We will have to make do," Anaxandra replied. "There is no time to find another."

As they pushed themselves inside, fighting to find the depths of darkness, Anaxandra replayed the events of the night in her mind. The warrior had been perfect, the essence of all that she needed and desired. Yet she had failed to dazzle and capture him.

Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the melodic sound of the Scottish woman's voice. It was that sound that had caused the warrior to turn away from her. Though she had not lingered overlong, Anaxandra had seen that the other female was small and delicate, clearly an unworthy mate for such a skilled warrior.

A crushing sense of loss struck Anaxandra, but she pushed it from her mind. This was not over. When the time was right, she would return.

And when she left, she would not be alone.

Chapter Two

Three months later

The late morning sun shone with a bright, clear brilliance, yet it could not obliterate the gusts of a cool breeze that hinted of winter's close arrival. There were some members of the clan who had fretted over the day's weather, but Maev was not one of them. She cared not if it rained or snowed or rained
and
snowed. There was no force of nature strong enough to dampen her spirits on this magical day—her wedding day.

"Hold still, Maev, or else I'll never get this wreath of flowers to lay straight on yer head."

Maev took a deep breath and tried to obey her mother's orders, but it was difficult. Her nerves were a tangled mass, and the only bit of relief she could find was in constant movement.

"All done?" Maev asked in a restless tone, straining to see her reflection in the thin sliver of mirror that was one of her mother's most prized possessions.

"Goodness, lass, ye'd try the patience of a saint!" the older woman exclaimed, but after a final adjustment, she stepped aside to let Maev view the results of their morning's work.

"Is that really me?" Maev asked in a quiet voice.

"Aye," her mother replied, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "And a more beautiful bride the McGinnis Clan has never seen."

A broad smile crept across Maev's face at her mother's words. With a sigh of delight, Maev ran her fingers over the delicate material of her emerald green kirtle. The fabric had been a gift from Callum, and she and her mother had spent hours enhancing its natural beauty with carefully stitched gold embroidery around the neck and sleeves.