Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1)

by Mason, Nina

  “I see.”

  She watched him, debating within herself what to say about the ghost. Finally, deciding on the safest approach, she asked, “I met a ghost earlier, when I was changing for dinner, though I have my doubts she was the one we talked about.”

  He rounded on her with a gaze as heated as the flames dancing behind him. “Why do you doubt it was Sorcha?”

  She trembled under his fierce stare. “Because of the way she was dressed.”

  His eyes narrowed and darkened. “How was she dressed?”

  “In a gown from the Tudor era.”

  Something flickered behind his eyes as he moved down the table toward the place settings. “Come and take your seat. My butler will be in momentarily with the first course.”

  Doing as he’d urged, she kept her full weight off the chair while he pushed it in. No sooner had he claimed the seat at the head of the table than Hamish entered carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and a platter of what looked like crushed ice. The butler set the tray aside and poured the wine, a chardonnay, judging by the deep golden color. After setting the bottle in front of his lord, the manservant returned to the tray and put the platter on the table. Embedded among the ice were a dozen raw oysters.

  She smiled, both because she loved oysters and because they were reputed aphrodisiacs. Not that her desire for her enigmatic host needed any further prompting.

  “Are these from your farm?”

  “Aye.” He reached for a half-shell.

  “What kind are they?”

  “Pacific, which aren’t native to Scotland.” He tilted back his head, poured the oyster into his mouth, and swallowed without chewing.

  She wanted to ask more about the ghost but, not wishing to make waves her first night in the castle, she chose what she hoped was a safer subject. ““How did it go with Mr. Faol?”

  “Fine. I told him I was still thinking it over.”

  “I know you have reservations, but I really think you should run,” she told him.

  “Do you? Why?”

  “Because somebody needs to save the planet from those who would harvest her resources for personal gain with no thought to the devastating footprint they’re leaving behind.”

  He smiled and slurped another oyster from its shell. “Spoken like a true Aquarian do-gooder.”

  Impatience tightened her stomach. “I’m just saying. The world could use a lot more people like you in public office and a lot fewer politicians pushing business interests at the expense of the greater good.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree, but still need to think about it.”

  They finished the oysters just before Hamish returned with a tray supporting two bowls of soup. After setting one steaming bowl before each of them, he collected the platter of shells and refilled their wine glasses.

  The pinkish-golden bisque before her smelled appetizingly of seafood, butter, herbs, and sherry. Callum thanked the butler and waited for him to leave the room before picking up his spoon. She followed suit, suddenly aware how hungry she was.

  “It’s langoustine and smoked salmon,” he told her as he spooned some from the edge.

  She did the same, holding the warm liquid in her mouth for a moment to savor the incredible flavor. She’d dined in many five-star restaurants in her time, but couldn’t recall ever tasting anything quite so delicious.

  “So, besides ghost whispering, what’s the plan while I’m here?”

  “Well…I thought I might introduce you to the simple pleasures of a quiet country life.”

  She looked up from her bowl, meeting his gaze. “Please tell me you’re not taking me hunting.”

  He laughed. “No. Assuming we feel the need to get out of bed, and the weather obliges, I thought we might walk along the beach, go on picnics, and take drives along the coast. In the evenings, we might sit by the fire, read to each other—poetry perhaps or some of the classics—and sample the store of single-malts in my cellar. Or maybe do a bit of stargazing.” He took another spoonful of soup. “Or dancing. I do so love to dance and miss it fiercely.”

  The things he’d planned sounded romantic in a safe, quiet sort of way. Quiet wasn’t usually her style, but she was willing to give it a try. She couldn’t imagine growing bored with him in two more days. Unlike the other men she’d dated, he was interesting and capable of intelligent conversation.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  He’d been about to take a bite, but stopped. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Why haven’t you married again?”

  He put the spoon in his mouth, voided it of soup, and then set the utensil on the rim of the bowl with a clink. “If you must know, my amorous appetites are too much for most women.”

  Vanessa dropped her spoon, which landed in her bowl with a clang, splashing soup onto the white tablecloth. Flustered by her clumsiness, she grabbed the napkin off her lap and dabbed at the stain. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz sometimes.”

  His answer had done more than surprise her. It also had intrigued her—and given her a small hope she didn’t dare entertain. Her amorous appetites, too, proved too much for most of the men she’d dated. Might she have met her sexual match in Callum Lyon?

  He picked up a bell and rang it three times. Seconds later, Hamish came in with the main course and another bottle of wine. After removing the bowls, the butler set the plates before them, uncorked the new bottle, refilled their glasses, and left the room.

  Callum cut a bite of perfectly cooked salmon with his fork and stuffed it in his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “The salmon’s delicious. You really ought to eat it before it gets cold.”

  She gave him a feeble smile before digging in. He was right. The fish was excellent. Tender, flaky, moist, and buttery with a hint of lemon and herbs.

  They ate the rest of the meal in silence. After the butler cleared the dishes away, Callum rose from the table and helped her out of her chair. Taking her hand, he led her from the dining room down a long corridor decorated with museum-worthy displays of portraits and weaponry.

  Butterflies of excitement fluttered in her belly. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To bed,” he said. “I’ve waited long enough.”

  * * * *

  Callum’s problem with human women went beyond their inability to keep up with the demands of his libido. Most also were too emotionally needy and demanding. He relished his privacy and his solitude. Having unwelcome company foisted upon him upended his sense of wellbeing. It was that simple. He wanted a woman when he wanted her. When he didn’t, she could go hang herself.

  Right now, he wanted Vanessa Meadows in his bed. He’d hidden the ace up his sleeve long enough. It was time to raise the stakes of their game. Stopping abruptly, he pulled her into his arms. The contact ignited the smoldering cinders of his lust. Bending over her to level their faces, he captured his mouth with his own.

  His ante.

  Her tongue glided over his lip as her body moved against his. Her ante, plus a small bump. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue inside. He gave it to her, sweetening the pot.

  The kiss deepened and grew more torrid. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he ran his hands down her back, savoring every luscious curve. When he worked his way to her buttocks and squeezed, she rolled her pubis against his erection. Pleasure tore through him with such ferocity, it was all he could do not to roar.

  He swept his hands upwards to her shoulders and around to her face, trapping her jaw as they devoured each other. Though her kisses were as sweet as heather honey, he was eager to taste more of her.

  The kiss was escalating in step with his desire. He’d lost track of whose turn it was to bet. He only knew he was all in. Clearly, so was she, given how ardently she was stroking his cock through his trousers. Easing out of the kiss, he nipped and licked her lips as he pulled away. His fangs were descending. He ran his tongue over their sharp points, ready to partake of the next course.

  “Come, my b
onny butterfly.” He pulled her toward the door to his bedchamber. “It’s high time we got naked.”

  * * * *

  A searing bolt of lust cracked through Vanessa as Callum pulled her into his bedchamber. While she’d known him little more than twenty-four hours, it felt as if she’d waited a lifetime to get horizontal with him.

  Grabbing her hand, he whisked her across the threshold, shut the door and, in one fluid move, pinned her back against the door. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, he hovered there invitingly, tempting her to take the lead. Fighting the urge, she closed her eyes and turned her head.

  He dragged his fingers down the front of her dress, then back up again, pausing to massage her breasts through the fabric. Her nipples were already hard and he softly rolled them between forefinger and thumb, adding fuel to the fire already raging down below. She parted her lips to emit a breathy moan. Seizing her open mouth, he gave her his tongue, which she sucked with vigor.

  Her legs trembled as she felt his hand come up beneath her dress. Ripping aside her panties, he fingered her vulva with the expertise born of experience. The ghost had said he only brought whores to Barrogill? Why? And, more importantly, why did it bother her?

  She didn’t know. She only knew was that what he was doing between her legs felt like heaven on earth. Groaning into his mouth, she stroked the hard bulge in his trousers. He made a rough choked sound. Sucking his tongue harder, she fingered the rim of his cockhead through the thin gabardine. He dipped his fingers in her well for added lubrication. He’d find plenty. In fact, if he didn’t take her soon, she might melt into a puddle and seep under the door.

  His finger was on her clit, circling and circling. Her breaths were ragged, her muscles rigid and trembling, her thighs aching from the sweet torture of his teasing. Releasing his tongue, she abruptly turned her head.

  “Please, Callum. Fuck me already. I need to feel you inside me.”

  “Not like this.” His lips brushed her mouth. “Not up against the door like some whore.”

  She shivered when his hands slipped beneath her bottom and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down on her back, came over her, and swept his fingers along the side of her face, brushing back a strand of loose hair. She did the same for him while gazing heatedly into his gorgeous eyes.

  He flicked his tongue against her lips. “Can I ask how many partners you’ve had?”

  She kissed him softly. “Only if I can ask you the same.”

  “Are you sure you wish to know?”

  Holy crap, the numbers must be staggering. “Actually, I think I’d rather not.”

  “What about protection?”

  “What about it?” Her lips brushed his bristly chin.

  “Do you take the pill?”

  She nodded and clawed the front of his shirt before she began to unbutton it. When it fell open, she slid her hands inside, running them over his bare chest. His nipples, she was pleased to find, were erect. As she set about teasing them, he placed a big, warm hand over hers.

  “Sit up…so I can divest you of your dress.”

  She planted a kiss on his sternum before doing as he’d requested, turning and lifting her hair to give him access to the zipper. He slid it down, peeled the dress off her shoulders, and pushed it down to her waist, kissing her neck and shoulders as he did.

  “You have the loveliest neck I’ve ever seen.” As he spoke the words, his hot, moist breath caressed her nape.

  “Thank you for the compliment.”

  His hands came around to her breasts and fondled them through the pink lace of her brassiere. His touch was gentle, sure, and delicious. Pulling her against him, back to front, he began to nibble her earlobe. “Lay down on your belly.”

  Curious what he had in mind, she did as he instructed. No sooner was she flat then he stripped off her dress, taking care to ease it over her high heels, which he left on.

  When he started to unbuckle his belt she rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. This, she had to see. Her jaw dropped as his trousers hit the floor. Holy cow, he was big. Bending to pick up his pants, he gave her an unabridged view of his magnificent ass. When he turned back around, she greedily eyed his jutting erection.

  “Is all of that for me?”

  He didn’t answer, but she could tell he was pleased she was impressed by his size. As he strode toward the bed and knelt beside her, she watched him with prurient interest. She reached for him, eager to touch, and brushed her fingers from his navel to his pubic hair—a soft, wiry nest of dark gold—and out the full length of his cock.

  “Roll over,” he said. “On your front. The way you were before.”

  Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Only if you promise not to stick that big thing up my butt.”

  “I promise. Now, roll over.”

  As soon as she was on her belly, he perched on her thighs and unhooked her bra. Though she had no idea what he planned to do, she trusted him for some reason. A pleasant herbal scent jabbed her nose at the same time she felt his hands, warm and slick with oil, glide over her buttocks. Unaware until that moment how much tension she’d been holding, she groaned from the intense pleasure of his kneading touch.

  Like a professional masseur, he proceeded to rub her back and shoulders, setting her alight with sweet pain. She was delighted, with his thoughtfulness as well as his skill. Never had a man attended her so selflessly.

  “I could get used to this.”

  The massage turned from sensual to sexual when his hand burrowed between her legs. Her desire reignited with a roar, blasting her out of her torpor. While his fingers teased her sweet spot, he kissed, licked, and nibbled her cheeks and lower back. Her insides quivered like jelly in response, making it hard to think.

  “You’ve got a lovely arse, Vanessa, but it’s time to turn over.”

  As he rose off her, she rolled onto her back. She still wore her pink bra and panties, along with the thigh-high stockings and garter belt she’d added before dinner. He was on all fours over her, gloriously naked with his hair hanging around his face.

  He lowered her bra cups before bending to take a nipple between his lips. He sucked gently while flicking his tongue against the sensitive nub, dispatching pleasurable pulsations to her sex. Aching with need, she reached between his legs and closed her fingers around his member. He made an erotic sound, but when she started to stroke him, he pulled out of her hand.

  “I want to please you, too,” she said.

  He released her nipple and gave her a smile. “Pleasing you pleases me.”

  She brought up her hands, sank them into his hair, and tugged his head toward hers. As his face came over, she parted her lips and reared up, hungry for his mouth. He didn’t deny her. As their lips met, she opened wider and pulled his hair. Their tongues met in a sensual dance that intensified her need for his body. Arching against him, she ripped her mouth away from his.

  “Callum, please. Fuck me already.”

  “I wish you’d stop using that vile word.”

  She laughed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.”

  He kissed her hard, probably to shut her up. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, down his muscular back, and over the taut knolls of his ass. As her fingers circled and squeezed his buttocks, she wriggled her pubic bone against his erection.

  “Please.”

  Pushing up on his arms, he climbed off her and the bed. Worry enflamed her chest. Had she upset him? For a long moment, he stood at the side of the bed, looking better than humanly possible as his fiery gaze roved over her body. Just as she opened her mouth to ask if he was all right, he grabbed her by the ankles and jerked her toward him.

  Dropping to his knees, he dragged her ever closer until her legs were over his shoulders and her sex was even with his mouth. He ran his hands up and down her thighs before hooking a finger through the crotch of her panties. With a devil
ish crooked grin, he plucked them right off her before rising to his full height with her legs still on his shoulders. She gasped in surprise and started to protest, but was struck mute when he threw back his head and made a sound like a strangled battle cry.

  Then, he took possession of her in one ardent thrust. The feeling of possession felt heavenly. He drew back and drove into her again, filling her to her limits. He did this time and again, establishing a regular rhythm. He knew what he was doing. The position he had her in ensured he hit her g-spot with each delicious stroke. He kept it up until she was writhing against him on the precipice of release, her fingers clawing his expensive comforter.

  Sweating and breathing hard, he was just as close to climax. Docking his front teeth against his lower lip, he drew back and hovered on the brink of withdrawal before plunging into her so deeply the breath left her lungs. Staying there, he rotated his hips, drilling into her. He then drew back, moved a hand to where their bodies were joined, and wiggled a finger against her enflamed clit.

  Pleasure sang through her like a plucked string, pushing her over the edge. As the climax rang through her, she arched against him, urging him to leap, too. Planting himself deep, he spilled himself in violent pulses she could feel all the way to her bones.

  When his body ceased convulsing, he pulled out of her and tumbled onto the bed beside her. Gathering her into his arms, he held her against his damp and heaving chest.

  She snuggled against him, reveling in his closeness. “So, did I measure up?”

  “Oh, aye,” he rasped in his sexy burr. “You were bloody brilliant.”

  * * * *

  Callum meant every word. The sex had been bloody brilliant and he wanted more. Rolling onto his back, he pulled her body atop his. Rather than protest, as most women did, she squealed with delight, she set her hands on his chest and, with a spicy grin, pushed back against his hardening cock. He took her breasts in his hands, marveling at their supple weight and fullness. She really did have a lovely pair.

  Throwing back her head, she laughed and tossed her hair. “You really are rapacious, aren’t you?”