The Last Celtic Witch [Celtic Series Book 1]

by Lyn Armstrong

  He lifted her into his arms and lay her down on the bed. Like most men, he was eager to taste more of his mistress. With the servants still packing in her chambers, Torella enjoyed a pleasurable eve of exploring her new black lover.

  * * * *

  A light knock sounded on the door and Adela rose from the circle of herbs and candles scattered across her floor. Lifting a blue skirt up to her ankles, she carefully tiptoed between the ingredients of the love potion. She opened the door to find the well-groomed laird standing in the entrance, his eyes flicked approvingly over her while she matched his stare with one of her own. Opening his arms, he gathered her into them and kissed her soundly with a smooth face.

  "I have missed your company this past day."

  "I, too, have missed your charming dimples,” Adela admitted and held him tighter. “And thank you for the new garments.” She stepped back to swish the skirt of her gown. “They are most regal."

  "It is you who makes them regal.” He closed the door behind him.

  "You do not need to say that,” her tone, low and embarrassed. “I know I am not pleasing to look upon."

  His fingers slid sensuously over her trembling chin. “You are more beautiful to me than the full moon reflecting off the dark waters of our loch."

  Adela went to pull away, but he held her fast.

  "Please, never forget that."

  She blushed and lowered her gaze. “I will never forget,” she whispered and tilted her head up to stare into the flecks of his eyes. “I am glad you like the full moon, for this eve we need to visit her."

  "Pardon?"

  Reluctantly, Adela left his warm embrace and turned to the potion she had just finished. Lifting the glass bottle, she allowed Phillip to smell the tangy contents. “Slip this into Lady Torella's sweet wine and then drink immediately after her."

  Phillip's nose wrinkled from the scent and Adela giggled.

  "How will I get close enough to do that?” Phillip slumped on her bed.

  Pocketing the potion, she bent down and picked up a green and purple candle. “I have added the same herbs to this wax along with the flower you gave me.” Adela continued even though her throat constricted. She cleared it, trying to suppress her growing envy over a woman she had yet to meet.

  "This flower holds your generous intent to seduce, while the herbs will call to Lady Torella's heart. But we must chant the spell and light the candle while standing in a body of water under the full moonlight.” She looked up at his statuesque face, memorizing every chiseled feature. “This will bring her to you."

  Phillip rose from the bed, his face heartrendingly dismal. “Adela, I want to say..."

  "Aye?"

  "I want to say..."

  Adela moved closer to him, her body inches from his.

  He sighed loudly and rolled his eyes upwards, his torment tangible to her. It did not take her being sensitive to his aura to know he did not like the situation they found themselves in.

  "The loch is on the other side of the mountain,” he finally concluded, both knowing it was not what he planned to say. “We can do the spell there.” He placed a light kiss on her lips. “A part of me hopes that it will not work and witches are truly a story mothers tell their children to frighten them."

  Adela nodded. Her heart breaking with each breath she took. For the first time in her life, she wished the same thing.

  * * * *

  Hidden in the shadows and unnoticed by the two ill-fated lovers inside, a raven flew from its perch outside Adela's window. The bird's wide, black wings glided gracefully around the castle until he found an arched chamber window. Swooping inside, Dougal transformed into his full masculine height.

  He shook his head, allowing his red hair to fall wildly around his shoulders. Dressing in a brown tunic and tartan kilt, he sat in a tall chair and tugged on his boots. With both elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands, he pondered on how he was going to survive without Torella's sensual touch. Already his body shivered with sweat, his muscles aching from the lack of her sexual contact. He had to get her back. He had to make love with her again.

  Sitting upright, he massaged his prickly beard. A smile slowly crept across his face, a plan forming in his mind. If he slays the witch, her love spell would break, returning Torella's affections to him. It would break the alliance, and Phillip would be furious, but Dougal had no choice in the matter. Torella was in his blood.

  He had to have her.

  * * * *

  The hairs on the back of Adela's neck rose, walking through the thick grass toward the loch, but she shrugged off the feeling of doom. Surreptitiously glancing from beneath her eyelashes, she observed Phillip. The laird looked particularly tempting in a simple white tunic and kilt, his golden hair flowing gently in the breeze, a small sack casually slung over one shoulder. He turned to her and smiled, offering his hand to help her over a fallen log.

  Adela placed her hand in his and her heart flipped with the heat of his touch. She wished he did not affect her the way he did. It would make casting the love spell a whole lot easier if she did not already care for the chosen one.

  Moonlight illuminated the worn path to the glistening loch, but the surrounding forest remained cloaked in shadows. Ordinarily, Adela would stay indoors when it was only two nights before All Hallows Eve. It was well known that the beginning of the Celtic calendar created a thin line between the living and the dead. It was the only time her powers are greatly diminished. Her mother used to warn that all good witches seek shelter on All Hallows Eve, or else be met with an evil sorceress. She did not need to hear this more than once. Spawn of the Devil and his human mistress, sorceresses stole Celtic witches’ powers by killing them. Adela never knew why they coveted good magick, but she stayed locked in her abode until well past Samhain.

  "You are shivering.” Phillip clasped her chilled hand close to his chest for warmth.

  "I am fine,” she offered, knowing it was only because he was close by.

  "We are here.” Phillip stood on the soft grass at the edge of the loch, the moon's mirror image reflected off the dark waters. He did not lie. It was beautiful.

  Reaching into the coarse sack, he pulled out the candle and went to hand it to Adela when his eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?"

  Pulling the blue gown over her head, she stood before him naked, her nipples erect from the cool autumn breeze. “We need to have no constrictions on our body when casting this spell.” She bent down and pulled off her slippers. “And I do not want to ruin my new clothes."

  Grinning, Phillip offered no further argument. His eyes smoldered with wanting, and his body hardened with desire. She stood uninhibited in her glory as if she comfortably walked naked every day through the village. Her lack of coyness was refreshing and arousing. Phillip's gaze lowered to her beautifully formed breasts and he longed to flick his tongue across the stiff, rose-tipped nipples.

  Adela retrieved the vial from her gown's pocket and gingerly walked into the chilly loch. Her perfectly formed buttocks gradually sank below the water until she stood waist deep.

  "Light the candle and bring it with you,” she called.

  From out of a haze, Phillip hastened to undress and lit the candle with a flint from two jagged rocks. With a hand covering the warm flame, he entered the loch, mud squishing between his toes. His hardened member did not ease even with the cool water sloshing around his legs. In fact, it hardened with every step he took closer to the enchanting witch. Her long, brown hair barely touched the water, covering the round breasts he knew cupped perfectly in his hands. When first he saw Adela, he thought her to be a forest nymph, but now she resembled more of a mystical water siren, eager to lure him into the depths with her call.

  Facing her, his muscles became languid. The candle's glow cast an orange tinge to the soft curve of her cheeks while the smell of softening wax filled his senses. Phillip wondered again if he was doing the right thing. He wanted his heart to call to Adela, not to a gree
dy, bloodthirsty aristocrat. He looked away from Adela's sweet, brown eyes. His chest constricted with an ache he did not like.

  "Are you sure you want to continue?” she asked. “Once the chant has been spoken, yourself and Lady Torella will want each other with an unquenchable thirst."

  "And what will happen to my feelings for you?"

  "If it is lust you feel for me, it will disappear immediately. If it is love..."

  When Adela did not finish, he asked, “Aye?"

  "If it is love, you will forever love two women until either one dies.” Adela's glanced down at the candle, the smoldering flame reflecting in her moist eyes.

  Phillip swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned toward Adela to kiss her. The taste of her sweet lips urged him to lovingly cradle her face. “Then I will love you until the day I die. But we must proceed.” His eyes clouded with sorrow, his gaze lowering to the loch. “My people depend on this alliance."

  A chill black silence surrounded them.

  "So be it.” Adela nodded with remorse and pulled his hand away from her face. She cupped his warm hands on the candle along with the potion. “Repeat after me.” She gazed into his blue eyes, and continued, “I call upon the four elements of wind, fire, water and earth. Send my message to Aengus mac Og, the Celtic God of love and beauty."

  Phillip repeated, his heart pounding wildly as a mist of water gathered around them in a protective cocoon.

  Adela closed her eyes and tilted her head back to face the moon; a white ghostly light surrounded her body. She held the glass vial high in her hands.

  "Hear us now powerful Goddess Airmed. We ask for your divine power to infuse this potion and bind this man, Laird Phillip Roberts to Lady Torella Campbell, with a love that cannot be broken."

  A rose colored light snaked its way down from the stars and surrounded the potion, the ingredients glowing within. Adela released the candle and the light shot to Phillip and swirled around him, filling him with consuming warmth.

  His ears rang with a loud beating of his heart. In the distance he heard Adela's soft voice, her tone filled with anguish. “Bring Lady Torella to her love and may they be happy in their life together. Blessed be."

  As quickly as the light came, it departed and the water around them dropped to the loch, covering them in a light mist.

  "It is done,” the wistful tone in her voice sent prickly shivers down his back. “I wish you well.” She blew out the candle, its smoky fragrance curled around her cheek.

  She turned to leave, but Phillip placed a hand on her arm. “You cannot leave me,” he said, his voice taut with sorrow.

  "You must let me go! ‘Tis cruel indeed to make me watch you marry another.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, just to look at him caused her heart to ache. “Please, I beg you. Do not ask me to stay."

  He paused to draw a breath to ease the pain within. “If you must go, then give me this time with you now, so that I may have memories of a love that was destined and not enchanted."

  Tears ran down her cheeks and she pulled away from him.

  "I ... I cannot."

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  Chapter 10

  Adela splashed out of the lake and Phillip followed. They dressed in silence, each in their own thoughts.

  "Adela, we need to talk—"

  "Nae!"

  "You cannot leave."

  "It would not work, Phillip!"

  "Just give me one more night, give us one more night."

  Adela's chest heaved with emotion. She could not look at him.

  "Please."

  A drop of water fell on her nose, coupled with a few more drops on her head.

  "Come, let us away.” He slung the sack over his shoulder and held out his long, calloused hand.

  "I do not wish to return to your castle,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  "The rain comes. You must sleep somewhere tonight."

  Releasing a sigh, she nodded and clasped his hand. Adela ran with him through the damp grass. Rain stung her eyes, blurring her vision. The heat of Phillip's tight grasp seeped into her hand, giving her the sense of protection while they battled against the elements. Even when they reached the castle, Phillip did not release his grip. Not until they stood at the entrance to his chamber, did he free her hand to open the door.

  Soaking wet from head to toe, Adela shuffled into his chamber, the soiled edges of her gown sloshed around her muddy slippers. Phillip followed closely behind, and then shut the door. She turned to face him.

  Golden hair dripped water down his angelic face while the tunic's damp material fit snuggly to his chest. He had never looked so utterly handsome than he did right now.

  A cold voice in her mind urged her to turn away from him. Leave him to await his betrothal. Nonetheless, she could not do it. Her heart told her to stay, take whatever comfort she could before giving him up. It no longer mattered whether she had his seed growing inside her or the visions of her death. She needed him to tell her everything would be all right, even if it were a lie. Tomorrow she would face the harsh truth and be forced to leave him forever.

  But tonight was theirs.

  "Make love to me,” she whispered.

  He stood still as if waging a war of emotions within.

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

  Is he now realizing the hopelessness of their love? Does his heart call to another?

  "I am sorry. I should not have asked,” she said.

  "Nae, you should have not asked."

  Adela went to leave, but he blocked her path. “You should never ask, because I will always hunger to pleasure you. All you need do is look at me, and I am your servant."

  He pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her hard on the lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth, branding her body to his.

  By the Goddess, this man felt so good! Take me, she silently pleaded, her body thrumming with want. She pressed harder against his solid flesh, needing to be closer to him. Roughly she pushed away from him, and stepped back to rip off her wet gown.

  She had to have him inside her.

  Now!

  He peeled off his wet tunic and unwrap the heavy kilt from around his waist. His hungry gaze never leaving hers. She took a moment to behold the hard contours of his superior male form.

  A wicked gleam entered his eyes and he held out his hands. “Come to me,” he ordered, his voice thick with wanting.

  It was all the encouragement she needed to run and jump into his arms, her hands wrapped around his neck. With her legs straddling his hips, he effortlessly supported her weight by the back of her thighs. He reclaimed her mouth savagely, and her body melted with the scent of his passionate breath mingled with a musky scent of his arousal. Without breaking contact with her lips, he marched her over to the wall and pushed her up against it. In one swift thrust, he plunged his hard shaft into her willing body.

  The vibration of his moan tickled her lips, sending shivers down her body.

  He filled her core as he pushed in and out, a sense of urgency driving them both.

  Enhancing the friction, she squeezed her thighs tighter, narrowing her inner canal.

  He bit his lip and his eyes rolled backward.

  Adela smiled with the satisfaction of knowing she could torment him as he tormented her. He increased his rhythm, thrusting his hips again and again. Unable to stop the wave of pleasure from overtaking her, Adela surrendered to the glorious moment. Her lungs burned for air, her body clenching with spasms.

  Through gritted teeth, Phillip released a primal growl before spilling his hot seed into her. His whole body shook violently and he tightened his grip, holding onto her with fierce urgency.

  When she no longer felt him pulsating inside of her, he released her, and she slid down his sleek body, damp with perspiration.

  The muscles in her legs were weak from lovemaking. A sacrifice she was only too happy to make. She smiled up at him, he looked as
exhausted as she felt and as completely sated. Adela picked up his hand and kissed the rough skin. “Come to bed before you collapse."

  Breathing hard, he laughed and then whispered into her hair, “Believe me, my delicious witch, I have the strength to give you pleasure all night long."

  He scooped her up into the circle of his arms and carried her to bed. Adela's gaze caught in his eyes and her heart leaped with renewed anticipation over the coming eve's activities.

  * * * *

  A loud banging on the door forced Adela to push off Phillip's heavy arms from across her chest. She leaned over his sleeping form and smiled at the innocent boyish look upon his face. The door rattled again, this time more aggressively. Frowning, she shook Phillip.

  "Wake up. There is someone at the door."

  But he remained asleep. She tried shaking him again, but he did not budge.

  "Phillip..."

  The door slammed open and three fearsome soldiers filed into the chamber. She screamed and shoved at Phillip's limp body once more.

  "Die witch!” the soldiers snarled, then pounced on the bed and plunged each of their swords into her body.

  Adela jolted awake in terror. Panting, she looked over at Phillip sleeping soundly beside her. She pushed away the matted hair on her face and swept her feet to the side of the bed.

  "What purpose did that dream serve?” she asked in a chocked voice, her gaze drifting to the sunrise outside the large window.

  Adela released a long audible sigh and pushed to her sluggish feet. The cold stones against the soles of her feet chilled her naked body when she padded over to the washstand. Pouring water into a basin, she splashed the cool liquid onto her face.

  A knock at the door echoed through the chamber. Adela jumped, a gasp escaping her lips. Her nervous gaze jerked to Phillip sleeping soundly in bed, and then back to the door.

  "My laird,” a male voice called through the oak. “An unusual guest waits below.” He knocked again. “Are you awake?"

  Adela went to the door.

  "Do not answer it,” Phillip whispered tersely.

  Adela hesitated, blinking with confusion.

  He struggled out of bed and pulled on a pair of breeches. Opening the door to a sliver, he leaned against the doorway. Adela heard his steward say Lady Torella sat impatiently in the Great Hall.