To Love a Highland Dragon

by Ann Gimpel

  Tall, tawny, to-die-for body, amazing eyes, good mind, compassionate, cares about me…

  Yes, but what happens to my life? He won’t fit into any of it. Do I just walk away from practicing medicine forever? After all the years it took me to finish my training? Maggie nodded to herself. There it was in a nutshell. If she stayed with Lachlan, her life would never be the same. Am I ready for that?

  Ceridwen was staring right through her, as if she saw down to her soul. “Well, witch. What shall it be? The safe and known, or throwing caution to the four winds? I have spent many a decade watching humankind erode. Will ye rise to your witch heritage, or sink to the level of yesterday’s gruel?”

  “I— I’m not sure. He and I barely know one another,” she stammered repeating her earlier words.

  “Ye’d never want for aught.” Lachlan had moved back to her side but didn’t try to touch her.

  “That’s not it.” Maggie pressed her tongue against her teeth. “I’ve never been enamored with collecting things. I guess I’m having a hard time seeing how we’ll spend a lifetime together. We’re just so different.” The moment the words were out, it felt as if someone had shoved a burning blade into her solar plexus. Even though she didn’t know him well, and her life would change forever, she understood she’d rather risk that than face the long years to come without his solid, alluring energy by her side.

  He gazed at her, pleading in his eyes, but pride too. He wouldn’t beg. She had to choose him of her own free will. Not because of the strength in their combined magic. Not to defeat Rhukon and the Morrigan. Not because he’d help her find her grandmother, and she didn’t have any other options. “Aye, lass,” he said, obviously reading her mind. “I wish to be wanted for myself. What man wouldna?”

  Ceridwen cocked her head to one side. Maggie was grateful the goddess wasn’t pushing her. If it had been her Aunt Chloe, she was certain she’d have made a dive for her throat just to shut her up. Ceridwen chuckled. “Och aye, and I know that blood kin of yours, too. A prickly one she is. ’Twould do her good to take a man between her legs. Might improve her disposition.”

  Maggie didn’t mention that Chloe hadn’t shown any predilection toward either sex—ever. “What happens if we just make love and leave the wedding part open?”

  “Tch. Lack of commitment. Another human weakness that has expanded by leaps and bounds. What is it, witch? Are ye stuck in the modern concept that ye must know and love a man afore ye bind yourself to him?”

  “Yes. I suppose that’s part of it.”

  “Far more marriages fail today than they did a century ago—or five centuries. The term divorce has been around forever, but it was rarely exercised so enthusiastically until recently.”

  “I know all that,” Maggie sputtered. “But we’re talking about a whole lot more than marriage here. My whole life, the career I spent twelve years training for, will all go up in smoke.”

  “I dinna ask you to quit being a healer,” Lachlan broke in.

  “Okay,” Maggie amended. “It might go up in smoke.”

  Ceridwen leaned close. “Aye, ye’ve hit the nail on its head. Can ye be who ye are and wife to this man all at the same time? Beyond whatever ye do to earn your bread, beneath it all, ye’re still a woman.”

  “Honest answer?”

  “Of course, witch.”

  “I don’t know.” Maggie sucked air to the very bottom of her lungs. The careful planning that had been a hallmark of her life to date blew away in a puff of unexpected audacity. “But I’d like to find out.”

  “Ye’re hedging,” Ceridwen’s dark eyes flashed.

  Oh, what the hell. “Yes,” Maggie said, surprised to find tears in her eyes. “My answer is yes.”

  Lachlan’s arms closed around her. He rained kisses on her hair, her face, her neck. “Ye willna be sorry, lass. I will care for you, protect you.” More kisses. “We’ll find your grandmother, defeat Rhukon.”

  “Find the dragons and return them to Earth,” Kheladin said. “Doona forget that part.”

  “We shan’t,” Ceridwen replied.

  Something about the exchange got Maggie’s attention. She ducked from beneath Lachlan’s embrace and faced Ceridwen. “Why is repopulating the Earth with dragons so important?”

  The goddess gave her an appraising look and swept her long hair over her shoulders. “Dragons hold ancient magic. They are linked to the ebb and flow of life on Earth.”

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “So, not having them here disturbs some sort of cosmic balance point?”

  “More or less—” Ceridwen began.

  She was almost immediately drowned out by Kheladin trumpeting telepathically. Maggie pressed her hands over her ears and then understood it wouldn’t do a shred of good since the dragon was inside her head. She quirked a brow at Lachlan.

  He took her hands. “Kheladin’s just unhappy—lonely for his own kind. I told him we’d see about solving the dragon problem, but only after we had everything else well in hand. I doona think he liked my answer.”

  Lachlan pulled her into his arms; she heard the thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The sky had turned a pearlescent pink in the east with streaks of violet and teal, almost as if it were blessing their union. She turned her face up, and he closed his mouth over hers. His lips were firm and insistent as he licked at hers. She opened her mouth; his tongue sank inside, fragrant as fresh-cut hay.

  “Do ye, Lachlan, take this lass, Margaret Hibbins, to be your wife and mate?”

  He raised his mouth from hers and twisted them so they faced the goddess. “Aye.”

  “With full knowledge she is witch born, and ye have no idea the extent of her ability.”

  “Aye.”

  “To cherish and protect and feed and clothe?”

  “Now just a minute,” Maggie wriggled in his arms, but he held on fast, “I can feed and clothe myself.”

  “No more interruptions.” The goddess sounded stern. She held up an index finger. “Your answers from this point on are aye or nay.”

  “Aye,” Lachlan said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  Ceridwen nodded approval. “Now, lass, do ye take this man, Lachlan Moncrieffe, laird of Clan Moncrieffe, to be your husband and mate?”

  Well, do I? It felt as if she’d pole-vaulted into fairyland when Maggie heard herself say, “Yes.”

  “With full knowledge he is bonded to a dragon.” Maggie’s second yes came easier. “There now.” Ceridwen clucked. “That wasna so hard. “Will ye honor and obey him in all things without question?”

  Something snapped. “Why does he get to cherish and protect me, and I have to obey him?”

  “Tch, tch.” Ceridwen waggled her index finger right under Maggie’s nose. “And would ye be questioning the words to a ceremony far more ancient than yourself?”

  “Not the words, the concepts,” Maggie muttered. She drew away from Lachlan, faced him and the goddess, and squared her shoulders. “What I will do is my best to love you, to treat you as my friend. I will be faithful. I will stand by your side. We will hold our arguments in private. I will make all major decisions with you.”

  Maggie placed her hands on her hips. She felt shaky inside but tipped her chin up. “I obey no one. Those things will have to do.”

  A look passed from Lachlan to Ceridwen. The goddess’ face softened. She’d looked so threatening, Maggie had wondered if the next thing would be a lightning bolt channeled straight into her heart. “’Tisn’t wise to pit yourself against the gods, lass.” Ceridwen spaced out her words. “In this particular instance, ye have won, but I doona recommend ye do it again. Most of my kin are not as…tolerant as me. Now, for the love of Dewi, who is also involved since Lachlan is a dragon shifter, stand next to one another again.”

  Maggie stepped to Lachlan’s side. He gripped her hand. Ceridwen lapsed into Gaelic. Lachlan placed his mouth right next to Maggie’s ear. “She invokes the Celtic dragon god.”

  Maggie almost hissed back, What if Dewi do
esn’t approve? but kept her mouth shut. She’d taken enough of a stand. No point in making Ceridwen so angry the goddess refused to help find Mary Elma.

  Heat rose around them, so intense beads of sweat broke out on Maggie’s forehead. She held her breath and waited. The heat rose and fell basting them in steam. A sudden, searing pain shot through her arm. Maggie yelped and tried to clap a hand over it, but Lachlan held her still. “’Twill pass.” He spoke soothingly into her mind. “Dewi sensed the ritual mating mark on your neck, and now he has marked you, too. I have such a mark on my upper arm.”

  “Lachlan.” Ceridwen’s voice held a warning note. “Dewi is female.”

  “Apologies.” Lachlan inclined his head. “I had no idea.”

  “I was just about to correct you,” Kheladin said. The dragon lapsed into Gaelic, and the intense heat around them subsided.

  What the hell did Dewi do to me? It hurts like a bitch. Maggie breathed in and out through tightly clenched teeth, determined not to make a bigger fool out of herself than she already had. The pain did recede and far more quickly than she would have anticipated.

  As if from a great distance, she heard Ceridwen say, “And ’tis nearly done. Give me your right hands.” More pain. Blood welled from cuts in the meaty part of her thumb and Lachlan’s. He rubbed his cut over hers, mingling the thick, sticky fluid.

  A satisfied smile spread over Ceridwen’s face. No longer formidable, the goddess looked like an indulgent grandmother, but her change of expression didn’t fool Maggie. In a flash of wry humor, she thought about asking where the goddess had hidden her cauldron.

  Ceridwen met Maggie’s gaze and shook her head slightly before turning to Lachlan. “Ye are mated, laird, in both your forms, to this lass.”

  Maggie opened her mouth to ask, What about me? but changed her mind.

  Ceridwen snorted. “Ye’re learning, lass. Once we find your grandmother, the first order of business must be creating stronger links betwixt you and your magic. Had ye taken to it at a more tender age, ye’d not be so testy and resistant now.”

  Since her Aunt Chloe could be a poster-witch for testy and resistant, Maggie wasn’t so certain Ceridwen was correct.

  “Even that one knows how to follow orders when given,” Ceridwen pointed out.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll never have another private thought.”

  “Pft.” Ceridwen huffed.

  Lachlan murmured, “Of course ye will,” so comfortingly she suspected a spell just before he turned her in his arms and kissed her. The touch of his mouth made everything else flee. Little, nibbling kisses warmed her to her toes. Maggie wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  I did it. I’m married. Christ, but I hope I don’t live to regret this.

  He lifted his mouth from hers. “Not while there’s breath in my body, lass.” He kissed her again. Hands roamed down her shoulders and back and settled over the curve of her buttocks, drawing her against his erection. A protest about him still living in her head and sharing all her thoughts died unspoken.

  Sexual need roared out of nowhere, igniting all her nerve endings. When she lived in her head—in her worries—it was as if she existed from the neck up, but when Lachlan’s mouth trailed down her face, and his hands settled on her breasts, that part of her shut off.

  He pushed his hands beneath her top, raised it and bent his head to suckle a breast. Liquid fire raced from her nipple and set the rest of her on fire. Her pussy was awash in fluid; her clit throbbed with need. Somehow, her hands found the fastenings on the pants he’d complained about. She understood the problem when it was almost impossible to undo the buttons because of tension from his cock pressing against them.

  He pulled her jacket off her shoulders and her top over her head. When he fumbled with the clasp on her bra, she helped him. Anything to give his mouth and hands better access to her breasts. He filled his hands with them and then bent his head to tongue and lave them again. Pressure built deep in her belly. If he kept sucking her nipples, she’d come just from that. But her pussy felt hollow. She needed him. Needed him now. Maggie tried to tell him, but her throat was so thick with desire, all she could do was moan.

  She tugged the denim pants down his legs, and then thought about his shoes. He still probably had the lace-up leather boots on. Maybe the pants would just slide off over them. Maggie curved her hands around his cock. It was even more substantial than she’d remembered, so thick she couldn’t reach all the way around it with one hand. Lachlan groaned and pushed his ridged flesh into her touch. “I miss my plaid and women’s skirts.” His breath came fast, blurring the words. “’Twas so much easier.”

  He fumbled at the waist of her pants. She toed off her shoes and helped him slide her pants down her legs, so she could step out of them. Somehow they ended up on the ground, in a tangle of arms and legs. He kissed her again, hard and demanding, breath rasping against her mouth. “I have to be inside you. Now. Help me with these infernal breeks. I canna move with them twisted about my legs.”

  She repositioned herself and looked at the complex lacing system that held his boots together. “Did you take the boots off to get the pants on?”

  “Nay.”

  Maggie was so hot, even simple thought was a challenge, but logic dictated the pants should slide off the same way they went on. She got hold of a cuff and pulled. Lachlan pushed. Between them, they freed one leg. “’Tis all I need, lass.” He dove atop her, his weight pinning her to the ground. Rather than cold and lumpy, the earth felt warm and welcoming.

  The world turned into a kaleidoscope when his cockhead pressed against her entrance. It’s like Wonderland, where nothing is as it seems was her last conscious thought. She reached between them and guided him inside. Maggie wound her legs around his waist and gripped his upper arms with both hands. She felt her body stretch to accommodate his length and girth.

  Rather than withdrawing and driving himself into her, Lachlan twitched tiny muscles so that his cock jumped inside her; he did it again and again. She squeezed back. Maggie pressed her clit against the base of his cock and rotated her hips. Coiled deep in her belly, the climax that wanted out—needed out—spiraled to life. Surges of heat pounded her, and her body convulsed around him.

  “Aye, lass. Sweet, Maggie. Come for me.” He balanced on his arms and watched her, a feral gleam deep in his green eyes.

  “What about you?” She tried thrusting her hips but couldn’t move more than half an inch or so.

  “’Tis my task to give you pleasure. Men always spend.”

  Her gaze roved over his body. His tawny skin was flushed a rosy gold. His nipples were taut. She felt her lips curve into a smile. “Looks like this man is damned close, if I’m any judge.”

  “Close, but I can bring you there again. Let me.”

  Maggie dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Lachlan pulled almost all the way out and moved his cock in small, lazy circles around her entrance before pressing slowly inside again. After about ten of those long, slow strokes, his control crumpled. He drove himself home over and over. Lost in the wonder of his body, sucked in by his lust like a tinder to her own, Maggie met every stroke.

  Her pussy tightened; she was almost there. Maggie moved her hands to his hips and pulled him against her. She ground her clit against him and shot over the edge, screaming her delight as wave after wave of ecstasy tore through her. In the midst of her climax, she felt him release. His spasms fed hers, and another climax crowded on the heels of the one she wasn’t quite done with.

  They lay trembling and panting in one another’s arms for long moments. When she could talk again, she said, “Wow! Amazing. You can do that again anytime you want.”

  He rolled off her onto his side and propped his head on an upraised hand. “What? No undying words of love and devotion from my new mate?”

  Maggie bit her lower lip. “If I said I loved you, it wouldn’t be the truth. Not quite. I like you, and God knows you’re the hottest thing
with a dick that’s wandered into my life—ever.”

  He shook his head slightly, and she stopped talking. “I’m falling in love with you, lass. What man could resist the wonders of your body or the blue of your eyes? Did ye know they darken to midnight when ye’re about to spend?”

  The sound of hands smacking together reminded Maggie they were far from alone. Ceridwen had been there the whole time, right along with Kheladin. Maggie rolled her eyes, amazed she’d totally forgotten about them.

  “Perfect,” Ceridwen crowed. “Simply perfect. The grove is delighted and the earth, too. Get dressed, children. We have work to do.”

  Maggie twisted so she could look in the direction of the goddess’ voice and gasped. Much as she’d imagined Ceridwen should look, the goddess sat naked on the ground behind a huge copper kettle, stirring it with her staff. “Pull your eyes back into your head, lass. No boiled babies today.” Ceridwen laughed then, a sound so full of life and promise, Maggie couldn’t help herself. Joy roiled through her, and she laughed, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lachlan kissed Maggie’s forehead tenderly once she was through chortling with the goddess. Ceridwen was like that. She could deal death with the best of them, yet she had a vibrant liveliness that was contagious. He bit down on a sigh, muffling it in his clothing. He’d hoped the dragon mate bond would spin its magic, and the lass would fall head over heels in love with him, but it hadn’t happened yet. Och aye, well, she did wed me. Mayhap ’tis greedy to ask for more just now.

  He pushed to a sitting position and gathered more clothes. Loathing filled him when he picked up the breeks. He wished to hell he’d had the presence of mind to bring a plaid along. His cock was still half hard, and the thought of forcing it back behind the metal buttons was deucedly unpleasant.

  Maggie had just shrugged back into the binding about her breasts and her shirt when music trilled. He started and then remembered it was the thing she called a phone. She grabbed her bag and fished the little noisemaker out of it.