Celtic Love Knots Volume 5

by Jennah Sharpe

  As she stroked the hair on his chest, he stared into her eyes. They told him she was willing to go where he went, to do what he did, compliance graced by an independent spirit.

  Absorbed in the moment, he failed to notice her hand reach down and take hold of his hot, hard cock. He jumped at her touch, startling her. She smiled wickedly when she realized how her touch had affected him. He groaned and let his forehead fall against her shoulder. He held his weight with his arms, afraid of hurting such a delicate creature.

  Feeling her nipples pebble against his chest, he leaned to the side and brushed the flat of his palm over the tip of her breast. She inhaled a quick breath, filling his cock with blood. One hand stroked the length of his back while the other worked his cock.

  After slipping a knee between her legs, he pressed against a creamy thigh and she spread her legs wide enough to accommodate him. He rubbed his length against her folds, warm and moist. She was waiting for him. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, leaving a trace of kisses down to her nipple. As he took it between his teeth, tugging ever so gently, he heard her gasp.

  "Did I hurt you?” he whispered as he looked into her eyes.

  Her eyes remained closed. “No,” she breathed, “Don't stop, please, Samuel."

  He drew her taut nipple into his mouth once more. Suckling her gently, he reached lower to guide himself to her moist cleft. She arched against him as the head of his shaft manipulated her lips to find its home. She snaked her fingers through his hair as he let go of her nipple and reared above her.

  Samuel slipped into her with ease and groaned. As he stroked against her at an increasing pace, he watched her face as she writhed beneath him. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips pulled tight as she closed hotly around his flesh and her eyes squeezed shut as she grabbed his thrusting hips and reached her climax.

  When her mouth opened and a muffled scream escaped her, Samuel could hold back no longer. He pumped into her, faster and harder until his seed began to leak into her and blackness tinged with tiny lights was all he could see. With one final thrust he let go and released into her, collapsing on top of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  They lay motionless, panting for a few moments before Pandora whispered, “That's never happened before."

  He raised his head, tossing his hair off his forehead. “What's never happened before? You aren't virgin."

  "No, I'm not. The boys at the camp were more than happy to see to that. Not against my will though,” she added when she saw his eyes darken.

  "But that feeling, that convulsion..."

  "You've never experienced your release?” he asked in awe.

  "No, I knew that's what it was, but it was amazing,” her breath was warm and sweet when he leaned closer to nip her lower lip. “Can we do it again?"

  Samuel laughed. “We can, sweet, but not now. We aren't far from the camp, and it was risky enough doing it once. I won't risk discovery again."

  Pandora feigned a pout before responding. “All right. Let's dress then. I want to meet these people whom the emperor fears so greatly."

  "Are you not afraid, Princess of Rome?” Samuel asked as he reached for his clothing.

  Pandora slipped her shift over her head, then picked a couple of pieces of dried grass from her hair. “Strangely not. I never have been. Something drew me to your people. I've listened to the stories and wanted nothing more than to meet a Celt."

  Samuel smirked. “You got your wish."

  "I certainly did.” She smiled back at him in a way that melted his insides once more.

  Samuel wondered if being apart from Pandora could ever be an option for him. He only knew he didn't ever want to try it. Thoughts as to how he could explain this tryst to his brother poured through his mind, but he could come up with nothing plausible. He'd have some explaining to do when they reached camp and faced Elijah Dannon.

  The atmosphere around the camp was sullen. Men stared as Samuel moved closer to the fire. One of the men, tall with striking blue eyes stood, his mouth open.

  It was a moment before he spoke. Pandora watched this exchange with fascination. They were obviously surprised to see both Samuel and her.

  The man took a step forward, “Samuel? We thought you dead!” He moved quickly, taking Samuel in his arms. The two men held each other momentarily before slapping each other on the back and stepping away.

  Samuel laughed. “Dead? I'm sorry, Elijah, but the Romans will have to do better than that to kill me."

  Samuel watched Elijah eye Pandora who stood warily behind him. “A prisoner, Samuel?"

  "She's the daughter of the commander, Elijah, but she's here of her own doing."

  Elijah looked at Samuel for a long moment, before turning to Pandora. “Welcome to our camp.” His tone was curt so Pandora did little more than nod her head in his direction.

  Elijah walked away, hands clasped behind his back.

  "He's accepted you, Pandora.” Samuel planted a generous kiss on her lips. She quivered, still feeling the aftershocks of their lovemaking in the woods. He took her by the hips and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as he did so. When he finished, Pandora touched her swollen lips with her fingers. “You call that acceptance?"

  "Yes, I do. Elijah is a man of few words. He may not like my decision but he knows he must live with it.” He smiled, gently tracing the length of her neck.

  One by one the other men of the group stood, welcomed Pandora and smacked Samuel on the back. They seemed to see Pandora as nothing more than a sexual conquest but Pandora knew Elijah saw through to Samuel's heart. Winning him over would take time but she was sure she could do it. She'd prove to him she could be a solid match for his brother and would work as hard as she could to learn Celtic ways.

  Samuel took her hand in his. “Neither of us expected this, Pandora. How are you really?” His intense eyes questioned her, giving her one last chance to flee for home.

  "I'm not going anywhere. I'm meant to be here with you. I've always known that, but it wasn't until I saw you the day of the battle that I knew for sure."

  He tilted his head and she continued. “I'll miss my sister most of all.” She felt a pain in her chest but when she looked up at Samuel, it disappeared. “I'll miss her, but she'll understand."

  "Right then. We break camp today, sweet."

  "Are you headed in the same direction as my father?"

  Samuel brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “These are not easy times. That battle will not be the last we see. That may not be the last time I'm taken prisoner. The Romans are enemies of the warrior Daoine Sidhe. You'll be safe with me, but you must never venture far from camp until we find some clothing for you."

  He paused and Pandora sensed he had one final thought to impart. She moved closer to this enigmatic man who'd seduced her just by being.

  "We will be fighting Romans—"

  "Don't you think I know that, Samuel?” she interrupted. “This is what I want. It's what I always wanted. I wasn't meant for Rome. I wasn't meant for conquest, and I surely wasn't meant to marry a soldier of my father's choosing. I chose you, Samuel."

  He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her body as she slipped her hands through his dark hair and down the nape of his neck. She was his Celtic Princess now and anxious to begin her new life.

  SONS OF THE SIDHE:

  THE WHISPERER

  by

  Jennah Sharpe

  Arista lay in the bed of the young man she'd sought during the night. He was warm and welcoming, everything she needed. Her sister slept by the fire. Her father, the commander of the Roman phalanx, was within his pavilion awaiting the morning.

  They would break camp today and reach Caledonia, the land of the Celts.

  Arista watched the boy's face as he slept naked under his woolen blanket. He seemed so young, so innocent. To think that one of these days he might die in a battle at her father's command was more than she could stand. Moisture welled up in her eyes as she traced his fa
ir, stubbled jaw with her finger. He didn't move. His breathing remained soft and even, undoubtedly worn out from the scrimmage the day before and Arista's own demands that night. She snuggled under his raised arm, breathing in his scent. He smelled of wood smoke. His name? No, she couldn't recall. It was then she decided to leave before he awakened. She couldn't bear the embarrassment of not remembering his name. Besides, if her father caught her leaving the tent of one of his men, he'd no doubt have the boy flogged, or worse.

  She slowly pulled the blanket to the side, exposing his lean, toned body to the morning air. His penis lay quiet at the juncture of his strong thighs. She reached out a hand to stroke the thigh closest to her. With delight, she watched his cock twitch as he began to wake. She resisted the urge to take him in her palm and begin the stroking she so loved. To watch a man react to her ministrations always thrilled her.

  She replaced the blanket, pulling it across his solid chest. Arista closed her eyes, taking one more moment of warmth and relaxation from the boy slumbering beside her. He'd been a good lover, tender and giving. She'd return, perhaps tonight, if all went well on their travels. His tent was easy to find no matter where he chose to erect it. He was one of the few who enjoyed the privacy of his own small quarters. Luck of the draw. The soldiers respected each other's privacy, especially when it came to the opportunity of a woman. Often, the soldier didn't have to choose. He knew Arista would come to him, and he saved himself for her.

  They'd talked about their relationship. It wasn't as if the young soldier was waiting for Arista to agree to a betrothal, and neither was she waiting for him to ask. He knew why she came to him. It wasn't for love. It was for comfort, companionship. War was a lonely road. Arista felt relaxed around him because they both knew the terms of their lovemaking.

  Would there ever be more? Not between herself and the boy, but Arista wondered if she'd ever find love. She was getting older, past the average age of marriage among her contemporaries in Rome. Certainly it was impossible to find the man she wanted as long as her father carted her and her sister, Pandora, to Britannia and Caledonia. She'd never be able to settle down to raise a family with the kind of life she led.

  As she lay with her lover, a commotion began outside the tent. She propped herself up on one elbow, drawing the blanket up over her ample, bare chest, lest anyone pull aside the tent flap.

  Men were shouting, calling to each other, but she couldn't quite make out the words. The distraction seemed to be centered west of the camp.

  Her father's voice bellowed above the others. “Get her back here! Don't come back until you do!"

  The boy startled then, instinctively reaching for his knife, which he kept under his pack. When Arista touched his chest to calm him, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  "What's going on?” he asked in a low, hushed voice.

  "I don't know. Father said her. I have no idea what that means. You'd better go see if they have need of you."

  Without a word to Arista, he pulled his tunic over his head, and cinched it around his waist, then grabbed his spear and headed outside. A fresh breeze of cool morning air blew in the door and chilled Arista. She wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for the chill to disappear before dressing.

  Sneaking back to the pavilion she shared with her sister wouldn't be easy with all the men awake and alert. She needed to wait until her father was out of sight. A shiver crept up her skin when she thought of what he'd do if he found out his youngest daughter was not a virgin. He'd been hunting for years for a suitable husband for her among his men but she was uninterested in a husband who would never be with her. The campaigns of her father's phalanx seemed never-ending. Arista had no desire to continue this life of camps, horse riding and battle. She wanted a quiet place in the forest either here on Britannia—for it was lovely if not settled—or back home in the countryside of Rome.

  She told her father once that she wanted children and didn't think she needed to be married to a man to make that happen. She had been young and her father, furious. Only later had she realized her mistake. She still felt that way and if she became with child by one of her father's men, she truly wouldn't mind. She'd be exiled and left on her own but she would be happy. This particular young man was intrigued that she wasn't afraid of lovemaking without marriage. It truly set her apart from most women.

  When the noise outside died down, Arista stuck her head slowly out of the tent. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her body and outside. A breeze carrying a hint of autumn sweetness caught her in the face and she grimaced. If this damn commotion hadn't happened, she'd still be warming herself with her soldier. What was going on? She looked quickly and seeing no one who would care, she made a dash for her pavilion.

  Arista tore open the door flap on her tent and once inside, flopped down on her bed furs, winded by the exertion.

  "Arista? Arista, wake up!” She heard her father return and recognized the panic in his voice. “Arista, are you in there?"

  Arista rose again, thankful she'd been quick enough, and opened the tent flap to her father. He entered but averted his eyes from her bare shoulders, knowing she wore nothing beneath her cloak.

  "Arista, they've taken Pandora. Have you talked with her recently? Do you know why she would visit the prisoner?"

  He was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead, agitation prominent in his steady gaze.

  "You have a prisoner?” Panic blossomed in her stomach. Pandora was taken? She was Arista's only true friend and companion among this rabble of men, aside from being her dear sister.

  "We took a leader from the Celtic tribe we fought last eve. He was kept in a nearby cave and Pandora was seen headed in that direction. It now appears he's escaped, taking Pandora with him."

  He paused, waiting for Arista to answer, or at least respond in some fashion. Secretly, Arista wondered if Pandora had left with the man. She'd always held a fascination of the Celtic tribes and had shared this interest with Arista on more than one occasion.

  "Father, I'll help with the search. Let me dress."

  "Thank you, Arista. Take a soldier with you. I'll not have you lost as well."

  Her father left in a rush. Arista struggled into her tunic and pulled a long skirt over it before flinging her cloak around her shoulders.

  As she ventured toward the forest of pines, she felt only peace and wondered how a tribe of savage Celts could possibly live in such gorgeous, alive surroundings. In her imagination she pictured them living a miserable existence in rocky scrub, not luscious green woods.

  The soldiers were long gone, each taking a different path through the woods in their search for her sister.

  Arista walked for what seemed like an hour without seeing another human, soldier or otherwise. It was as if she were on a hidden path. She felt a touch of trepidation when she recalled stories of faeries that stole whomever they chose and delighted in wreaking havoc among humans.

  Arista rounded a berry bush, gently trailing her fingers over the ripe, red berries. For several hundred yards, she'd not paid any attention to where she was walking or how far from camp she was. She didn't see the wolf until she was close enough to reach out and touch the fur on its neck. Taking in her situation within seconds, she noted its fur was matted, dark grey, not soft at all. Its teeth, as it tasted the overly ripe berries, were long and yellow. Strangely, the first thought she had was why was it eating berries? Wolves didn't eat berries. He must be starving. In the same second she realized the danger she was in. A starving wolf that couldn't hunt for food was a very dangerous creature.

  When it turned its head to look at her, Arista's heart just about stopped. Its upper lip curled into a snarl and it lifted a front paw to step in her direction.

  Arista crouched, ready to run, knowing she wouldn't get far. When the wolf lunged, she heard a scream that echoed through the trees around her.

  The wolf knocked her flat on her back, its mouth open and salivating. Hungry drool dripped hot on her chest. She closed
her eyes. Death was inevitable.

  Then, still straddling her, the wolf closed its mouth. It looked up and sniffed at the air, and a moment later, it jumped off and loped away.

  * * * *

  The woods surrounding him spoke in a way that was strangely unfamiliar. They seemed to scorn his every thought and yet, his brother had done the unthinkable. How was he to reconcile that with his beliefs?

  Elijah Dannon sat at the edge of a small brook. His deer hide boots removed, he dipped his tired feet in the cool water. His hands dangled between his knees as he watched the water flow over the pebbles and rocks that made up his favorite stream. He often sat in places such as this, when he needed to think. The stream wasn't far from where he'd been raised and now, it was less than two hundred feet from his tribe's camp.

  Every so often, Elijah reached beside him for a small, smooth pebble and tossed it into the stream to watch the ensuing ripples rush to the shore. He didn't want to go back to camp, but if he didn't he'd miss his evening meal. The men in the camp were adept at catching rabbits. Even the thought of a roast made Elijah salivate. But that girl...

  His own brother, Samuel Dannon, a Daoine Sidhe, had brought a mortal woman back to camp. Roman on top of that! He'd made love to her with her consent. Of that he was sure. The edge of Samuel's lip twitched every time he looked at the woman as if he was about to smirk. His eyes spoke of ownership. He'd claimed the woman as his own and Elijah couldn't bear the thought of his brother with the enemy.

  Romans intent on wiping out the entire Celtic culture had invaded Caledonia. Here in northern Britannia things weren't any better. Nor did he see peace in the future. Both he and his brother were Daoine Sidhe Warriors. They had a reputation to uphold and a promise to keep to their people. They would do everything in their power to keep the Romans from ransacking their lands.