Ian's Story (The Immortal Clan Keith Book 1)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication and Acknowledgments
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Calum’s Story
The Immortal Clan Keith
Book One: Ian’s Story
Ardent Rose
A Smoke and Mirrors Book
Smoke and mirrors Ink, 83 Ducie Street, Manchester, M1 2JQ www.smokeandmirrorsink.com
First published by Smoke and Mirrors Ink 2017
THE IMMORTAL CLAN KEITH: IAN’S STORY
© Copyright Sherri Clark 2017
All rights reserved.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events and organisations are purely coincidental.
ASIN B071948226
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the publisher.
Condition of sale
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover design © Copyright Smoke and Mirrors Ink 2017
Cover design by Lindsey Jayne 2017
Editing Carol Tietsworth
Book formatted by Taniquelle Tulipano
Dedication and Acknowledgments
I dedicate this book to all those readers who love erotic fantasy and allow me to create imagery of my own creation. I appreciate the encouragement of my PA, Shanna Blanton, who keeps me going by taking the brunt of my work and giving me time to write. She organizes my promotions and executes flawlessly.
To my street team, Rose's Petals, you girls rock my socks off with your dedication to my writing and promotion all over social media. Love you bunches… Candy Girl, Zesty Petal, April, Annamarie, April Mc, and Natasha.
Lastly, I acknowledge Smoke and Mirrors Ink for taking a chance on my writing and offering me the opportunity of a lifetime.
Part One
Patricia Callahan was a dark-haired lass with emerald green eyes. Her true beauty lay hidden beneath a messy bun and dark- rimmed glasses. She was a historian of the Victorian Era and specialized in Scottish and Irish history. It would not be unusual to find her in nearby library buried in books about castles and kings. Her guilty pleasure was the occasional historical romance novel. She was a university professor with a romantic heart.
She rarely dated but lately her dreams had been interrupted by a mysterious dark man. Night after night, he visited her and tormented her body with his lascivious needs. She chalked it up to her current trashy novel about a highlander.
Scotland was on her bucket list of places to visit. When the university decided to send a group over to Edinburgh, she was the first one to sign up. Finally, her dream of this magical land would all be at her disposal to explore.
The flight was long and the hour grew late. Patricia filled the time by conversing expertly to her colleagues along the way. She had brought along some literature and pointed out some attractions not to be missed.
Scotland did not disappoint. It was beautiful, lush and green, but rainy and chilly as she had expected. Her wildest machinations could never do it justice. Castles and ruins did indeed litter the countryside begging to be explored.
After a short bus trip to their lodgings, she asked the concierge about a tour, or a tour guide, for the historical castles.
The concierge was a tall man with red hair and a beard to match. His eyes sparkled green when he talked about his beloved Scotland. “Aye, yes mum there ye be a great selection.” He handed her some brochures.
“The bus tour leaves at 8:00 sharp in the morn. Breakfast begins at 6:00. Would ye like a wake-up call?”
“Yes, please, say 7:00?” He nodded in acknowledgment and showed her to her room.
The room was small and quaint with a cottage feel. A soft down comforter and pillows adorned the bed. Fluffy white towels hung in the bath area. There was no television or internet connection, which suited her just fine.
Patricia ordered potato soup from room service and soaked her tired body in a hot bath. She was relaxed and warmed up from the inside out. A fluffy bathrobe hung on the bathroom door and was the perfect attire for the evening.
She gathered the brochures and the book she was reading and trundled into bed. It didn’t take long before her eyes were heavy and she drifted off into pleasant slumber.
She dreamt of alpha males dressed in tartan kilts with their swords drawn, fighting dragons and defending castles, some even bedding beautiful maidens.
Her night was restful and she awoke before the desk called. She stretched her arms above her head and realized she hadn’t changed into her pajamas. Her robe fell open, and her nipples ached to be touched. She closed her eyes, her mind consumed by the thoughts of her testosterone- riddled dreams. Her hand tweaked a stiff peak and pinched it between her fingers.
Suddenly, the face of the dark-haired highlander appeared and stalked her once more. He too, had lust in the golden twinkle of his eyes. Her hands grasped both breasts, kneading them and squeezing them.
Her hand slid down her stomach reaching the mound of bare skin above her pussy. Her body was smooth and soft. She parted her knees and located her already swollen clit.
Her hips lifted from the bed. Her nimble fingers stretched the lips apart. A creamy wetness formed and dripped from her fingertips. The highlander licked his lips and begged for a taste. He smirked, when she sucked her own juices from her fingertips.
She rubbed tight circles around her clit. The nerve bundle hardened beneath her fingers. A soft moan emanated from her lips. The spastic walls grasped her fingers, as she dipped in and out of her body.
Patricia had locked eyes with the highlander. His cock stirred and his hand disappeared under his kilt. He stroked quietly, but his eyes never left hers.
Vigorously, she rubbed until warm juices flowed down under her ass and she nearly curled into a ball on the bed. He encouraged her as she swept her fingers in and out.
She watched the highlander stroking harder and harder. The voyeur took over and watching him only made her grow more aroused. She craved that toe curling, screaming his name, crushing his cock orgasm.
She slowly caressed her pussy lips and spread her knees, positioning her feet with the bottoms pressed against each other. Now the dance was initiated, the highlander viewed her with dark hooded eyes filled with yearning.
She urged her fingers down on her clit and her body bowed inward and her head tossed back. A silent scream of divine satisfaction was frozen on her lips. She was lost in the sensation and pursuit of a hard orgasm. She rode the edge and
moaned louder.
The highlander was fascinated by the eroticism of this wanton woman. His body tensed and his knees locked. His mouth opened and his tongue darted out across his lips. Yet, his eyes never left the beautiful maiden.
Patricia dropped to the bed breathless She drifted on the exquisite pleasure, while her body convulsed through several pulsations. Her eyes fluttered and sought the highlander in his release. He’s gone. Once again, it was only a dream. Her warm tears soaked her pillow.
A ring was heard in the distance. She recognized it was the phone that startled her from the dream. Hastily, she grabbed it. “This is y’er wake up call, Ms. Callahan.” said a kind voice on the other end.
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
“Shall I reserve y’er spot on the tour bus?”
“Please, I will be down shortly, thank you.”
She fell back against the pillows. These dreams had plagued her for several weeks. They were tangible and always highly sexual. Patricia took inventory of herself and found she was indeed wet and swollen from masturbation.
Her mind had two views, either she read too many romance novels or something mystical had manifested within her mind. She dwelled in the land of the fae, where anything is possible, specifically sexily- kilted highlanders.
Part Two
It was a beautiful sunny day in Aberdeen. Patricia donned a pair of jeans and a sweater along with some hiking boots and headed off downstairs. She spotted two of her colleagues, Anita and Helen. They sipped coffee and ate pastries. “Good morning ladies, mind if I join you? That coffee smells heavenly.”
Anita spoke first with laughter in her eyes. “Look at you so energetic this morning. No jet lag, eh lass?”
The ladies burst into laughter. “Not a bit. Ready for exploring? Did you save your seats on the bus tour?”
Helen wriggled her nose. “Are you really exploring all those stuffy castles?”
“Aye, I am. Dunnottar is the one I am most interested in, from the intrigue and history of William Wallace and to the death of Mary Queen of Scots and despair of Whigs Vault.”
“You see romance on every corner. I want to see some shops and find some trinkets. You can keep your drafty castles, Pattie girl.” Helen sipped her coffee and waved off Patricia’s romantic notions.
Anita hid behind her napkin. “Okay, you two. Now I have to decide between you.”
Patricia patted the napkin in her lap. “No worries Anita. I am perfectly capable of taking the tour on my own. It was just a suggestion. Maybe tomorrow I can go in search of the famous Claddagh ring and such.”
Patricia grinned to herself, the only thing she searched for was the mysterious highlander in his kilt clad glory who haunted her dreams. She shivered remembering her vivid dream and a warmth flooded her body again. Her face glowed a warm pink.
Helen noticed first. “Patricia, are you feeling alright? You look a bit flushed.”
“Oh no, I am fine. Just anxious to get started.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Patricia noticed the concierge with her ticket. “For you, lass, don’t dawdle long, the bus is always prompt.”
“I will be right out, Robert, is it?”
He smiled, grateful she had remembered his name. “Aye, it tis.”
***
Dunnottar Castle ruins sat upon a rocky headland on the north-east coast of Scotland about 3 kilometers south of Stonehaven. When Patricia entered the castle grounds she was drawn to the sea. She heard her name on the wind. She recognized the crashing of waves upon the rocks. A sound created in perfection by nature alone. She heard the voice whisper her name once more. Suspiciously, she surveyed her surroundings, but no one looked her way. Patricia gained control of herself and followed the winding path up to the castle itself.
The castle grounds were made up of various buildings. Patricia wandered from place to place taking pictures and recording her discoveries. Suddenly. she found herself in a group of suites. The rooms were restored to their historic beauty in 1715. The mantle held portraits and fine plush furnishings filled out the room, all from the era.
Through the camera lens, Patricia captured every inch of the room. She nearly dropped her camera when she came to a jaw-dropping tapestry. Woven among the threads in such intricate detail stood, … her highlander.
Shock registered on her face. She quickly sought a place to sit and catch her breath. She mumbled aloud. “It can’t be. But it…”
She remembered him vividly, there was no mistaking the golden spheres that watched her so intently. The tartan of his kilt, although he was fully- clothed, the colors and pattern were identical. Even in a shirt, his biceps bulged. He wore a hat but it couldn’t cover his strong chin or Romanesque nose. His lips called to her for a kiss, and she dreamed of how lovely they’d look speaking her name.
Her eyes were glued to the tapestry. She memorized every detail. Suddenly, she focused on a plaque. After weeks of mystery, her highlander had a name. Ian Keith, of the clan Keith.
She closed her eyes and felt his lascivious gaze fall on her. The familiar warmth they shared pulsated through her body. She shook and her eyes darted around and she hoped no one had noticed her wanton daydream. She gathered her things, got back on the bus and returned to the inn.
Unbeknownst to her, he had been watching her all along.
Part Three
Patricia returned to the inn for a long hot bath. Although the sun had glowed most of the day, the winds brought a chill that wracked her to the bone.
Once again wrapped in the warmth of the fire, she contemplated the events of the day. Patricia grabbed her laptop and googled Ian Keith of the clan Keith. She searched and found his clan was still the keeper of the castle to this day.
Many centuries ago, Dunnottar Castle had housed the Crown Jewels, and Ian had been the leader of the group that recovered them after they were stolen. The tapestry had been commissioned in honor of his heroism to the crown.
Patricia’s eyes grew heavy watching the fire and pictured the highlander in his full dress. She heard music playing. It startled her awake, but she didn’t appear to be in her room. She noted she was dressed in a red gown, cinched at the waist with a deep décolletage. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head with ringlets dropping down. Ruby jewels adorned her throat and hung from her ears.
She stood and stumbled toward the window. She was inside the castle by the sea. A soft voice called to her. It sounded like the same voice from the wind earlier today.
“My darling Patricia, come dine with me. Our feast awaits.”
She slowly turned to see an outstretched hand. It was his hand, the one she had seen many times in her dreams. He bid her to follow him.
Patricia trembled not in fear, but anticipation. She inhaled deeply and lifted her eyes. Her knees faltered and he wrapped his strong arms around her waist.
“Aye Patricia, are you feeling poorly?” His face was covered in concern and his eyes no longer sparkled, but darkened in worry.
“Who? Why? How?” She stammered over her words.
His embrace grew stronger. He held her upright against his hard-masculine form. She inhaled deeply. He smelled of cinnamon and the sea. It triggered memories of when they had been together. She sensed another aroma, the scent of arousal, was he was aroused or was that her?
“You are safe, my love, with me inside the castle walls.” He said quietly, kissed her brow and tipped her chin up to see into his eyes, “Where did you think you were?”
Patricia swallowed hard, and regained her composure. She slid her hands down to his elbows to steady herself, “I was sleeping at the inn. You’ve seen me there, yes?” She averted her eyes embarrassed at the circumstances.
“Aye, my darling Patricia. I have.” He pulled her in closer and his cock twitched against her tummy. He dipped his head to meet her lips, softly at first.
She melted into his body, his taste, his scent. Patricia stepped away from Ian. “Wait a minute, I’m dreaming. I must be. But how are y
ou corporal?”
Suddenly, she spun in a whirlwind of power. A warm breeze floated over her face, her eyes fluttered open, and Ian’s bare back met her gaze. He poked at the fire and she laid on a soft bed and wore a dressing gown. His strong beautiful shoulders led to the waistband of his kilt. He’d taken his shirt and sword off.
Patricia had a naughty thought occur to her. She speculated about the Scotsman being regimental. She figured since it as only a dream, she should be bold, and go and find out.
Bravely, she snaked her hands up the outside of his strong thighs under his kilt. She met no resistance, He was indeed, naked as at birth. She explored around to the velvety smooth front of his body. Ian’s cock did not disappoint, he was hard as steel and he throbbed in her hand.
He gasped at the grip her fingers applied. His head lolled back against her shoulder. Patricia couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him between the shoulder blades.
“Aw, lass your hands are like silk upon me manhood. I’ve longed for your touch ever since I first watched you play upon your own body.”
Effortlessly, he turned on his heel and cradled her in his arms. He laid her upon the bed.
Patricia caressed his scruffy face and confessed her wantonness. “I just had to see if the myth was fact or fiction.”
The golden twinkle returned to his eyes and she knew she was safe in his arms. He cocked his brow. “What myth might that be, my darling Patricia?”
With an innocent expression, she replied. “The one about Scots and their kilts.”
He laughed,” Ah and?”
She whispered sensually in his ear, “oh my naughty highlander, it’s true.”
He unfastened his kilt letting it slip free of his waist. He stood before her a splendid figure of a man. His manhood raised tall, hard and called out for her attention. He unbuttoned Patricia’s gown and lavished kisses between her breasts.
He assaulted her pert nipples with his torturous fingers, pulled and tugged until she cried out. Then he suckled them and eased their discomfort. The stubble on his chin marred her skin. She felt alive, more so than she had in too long to remember.