The Chieftain's Yule Bride - a Highland Christmas novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #10)

by Carmichael, Jonnet

  She ran her hands up his forearms and cupped his biceps. "Look at you! I never asked what your Saturday hobbies are..."

  "Then do no' keep going if you expect an answer."

  So she did, and the hairs on his arms prickled as she explored every other bit of muscle he owned from his shoulders down to his navel. That quick tup was becoming more appealing, for her breathing had already upped along with his own.

  He reached under her own jumper and twisted the back clip, dispensing with all that covered her top half with one fell sweep and seeing her hair fan out again.

  "My turn..." he said thickly, and watched her take in a shuddering breath.

  The bounty that lay before him was exquisite but it was her hands that he reached for, clasping them tight and taking her arms wide to keep her from touching him.

  He started in the middle of her brow, right where her extra senses had pained her so much, latching on with a kiss and tonguing it until he felt her opening to a better kind of ache. Her throat next, nuzzling along her chin and licking his way down and round to her neck. A wee moan told him she liked that.

  Those pert wee nipples were begging for his mouth. He gave one of them the briefest touch with the tip of his tongue, wetting it in the firelight, just enough to say he'd noticed. Her back jerked off the quilt.

  "Callum, you're teasing! Let me touch you..."

  "No' happening." He licked his way right down her front to the band of her low-cut trousers and traced along the edge before he finally released her. "Leave your hands out of this, you hear me?"

  His own went straight to her waist, spanning it with a feather touch and stroking at her creamy skin with his thumbs. Openly worshipping those bonnie mounds, he sat astride her legs, taking his weight on his knees. His kilt bundled over her bottom half, his cock throbbing something hellish under it.

  He took his hands nearer her breasts with each touch and then palmed one suddenly, watching her. Her breath caught as he leant down, cupping it and squeezing gently while his tongue slowly circled her rosy nipple.

  Freya was tormented with the pace of it now, and still he took his time, even when she whispered "Please..."

  The rough of his tongue turned that into a groan when he began suckling her hard and kept going, loving the way it made her whole chest heave. Her fingers came into his hair and trembled as she held his head as if affeared he would stop. He did no'.

  Obvious it was that she was unused to laying back and receiving this amount of unhurried attention. Such impatience came from frenzied couplings done late at night with one eye on the clock. No' happening here. Freya would be getting a good long loving and his hand stole across to her other breast, palming it and watching the stiffened peak come even prouder, wanting its turn. He wet his thumb and stroked it over, sucking all the harder on the first as he did so.

  On and on he went, letting the outside world go away and the passing of time be a meaningless thing. Her skin grew damp in the heat of the fire and her need, and she was writhing to get more than this, begging him to let her join in.

  And then she began squeezing her legs together underneath him and he worked her mounds and nipples with all he could give her.

  "Oh... oh my god Callum... I'm going to come!"

  The shock in her voice told him everything. He milked her with every bit of strength in his mouth while she shimmered and her fingers went rigid on his head.

  She fought to get up but stopped when he moved to her other nipple, keeping the blaze high in her.

  "How did you... I've never... oh..." and her hands were all over his shoulders then, and talking about it didn't matter.

  Only then did he take his mouth off her breast, hold her face in his hands, and kiss her as if his life depended on it. Which most of it did.

  This was so wildly different than anything Freya had ever known. How could she possibly have come when her knickers were still on and he hadn't even touched her down below?

  She pulled away, just enough to say, "Okay, I trust you, I believe you... and I'm taking your kilt off."

  Her hands reached for his belt buckle but he scrambled to his feet.

  "Time yet. Put another log or two on the fire, aye?"

  It was the kind of chore Callum would have insisted on doing himself, so she sneaked a look at him while she was sitting up to do it. He unzipped the side pocket of his overnight bag and brought out a packet and something else she couldn't see. Her stomach flipped at the thought of him being inside her. Her knickers must be sopping, so ready was she, so aching for him to join with her.

  Before he came to her he took off his boots and kiltsocks. More muscle on view. She hugged her knees and ogled him like a lovesick teenager. Never had she seen a man who looked like this except at the Highland Games. That caber-tossing lover remark came back to her and she shut it out all too easily when Callum stood looking down on her and clenching his jaw.

  "Freya... I have to ask... are you sure?"

  "Yes." She nearly yelled the word. He seemed to expect more, so she gave him the only truth she knew about this. "I don't know why this needs to be done between us. I just know it does. Come here..."

  He nodded once and put a little bottle into her hand. "This is made at the herbery. A sort of oil. All safe and natural and compatible."

  "Okaaay..." She glanced at the few ingredients. "Looks interesting... am I going to get that long and very thorough massage I missed?"

  "A bit of you is, aye."

  No guessing game where it would be when she found herself on her back again and the waistband of her trousers disappearing past her toes. The heat coming off the freshly-stoked fire was nothing to the burning going on all over her. When he braced himself over her and widened her legs with his knees, the little bottle nearly snapped in her hand. He took it from her and set it down on the hearth.

  Her breasts were still tingling from her climax and his mouth on her nipples again drove her crazed. Callum had a way of sucking and nibbling and licking all at once that sent shockwaves through her, his huge hands sweeping over her skin as if they knew all her secret zones in advance and many more that were new to her. He was awakening her to sensations she hadn't known were there.

  She lifted her hips, needing more of him, grinding herself against his chest and clutching at his shoulders in desperation as the shimmering started up again, but he wouldn't let her come. A kiss instead, filling her soul with his want and moaning against her lips as he held her head. And then he was the one lifting her hips, and her knickers were as gone as if she'd worn none.

  Three times she'd been at this point, with two boyfriends and then Zavier, and they'd all stopped to make crass comments about real blondes. Not Callum. He just reached out for a plump cushion and stuffed it under the quilt to raise her up to him. Never had she been so aroused, and Callum's touch was fast losing its steadiness too.

  His hands moved all the way up her legs to spread out on her thighs, pushing them apart, and his thumbs gently caressed her, moving closer and closer until they were both in her wetness and she thought might faint all over again... and then his mouth was on her there, and his tongue flicking at her clit, and she was sure she couldn't help passing out when her climax began to hit and he took his mouth away, leaving her high and buzzing. But his fingers came inside her then, curling round and moving in the most incredible way which sent her higher yet, and her own fingers curled into the quilt as she whimpered.

  Callum was breathing just as hard as she was. He pulled her up to stand with him, and her legs would hardly hold her as he kissed her hard, running his hands lazily over her back and fondling her bottom.

  "Please let it be my turn..." she mumbled against his lips. She wanted to give to him. Needed to share.

  He held her head and rested his brow on hers as he glanced down between them. "Go on, then."

  Still too shaky to get his belt buckle undone, it took her a few goes before it came free. The kilt dropped away and his hands came onto her bottom again, pulling
her close, kneading her against him. God he was hot and so hard... the first feel of his huge erection against her stomach ran through her like an aftershock.

  "Let me touch you, Callum..."

  She held his gaze and went wandering. A guy of his height was bound to be rather big in all ways, which she'd no experience of... and when she traced her hands all the way down from his massive shoulders until she reached her goal, she found out just how big a guy he was.

  You are kidding me...

  He hadn't said anything about her blonde pubes so she wouldn't be making any comments, but her amazement must have shown. She followed it with an honest smile. This was just Callum. All of him. He shuddered when she stroked him his entire length, feeling every ridge of his pulsing want. Her fingers had no chance of meeting her thumb when she grasped him, still looking into his eyes and seeing them dangerously full of lust.

  Freya sank to the quilt and brought him with her, urging him to lie on his back. Outside the cottage, darkness was falling. The fire's flames illuminated their bodies as she bent over him, letting her hair caress his thighs.

  "Definitely my turn, chieftain... put your hands behind your head."

  She breathed in his musk and felt her clit throb for him. Fingered him down his length while she drew her tongue up the other side. With a feather touch she fondled his sac and licked around his crest, learning him, feeling him shaking along with her.

  "Callum..." It was true. Saying his name was just like licking him. And then she closed her mouth around him, taking as much of him in as she could and lapping with her tongue until he couldn't stand it.

  An arm came on her waist and she was twisted round, her legs pulled apart over his face. It sent her wild, sucking at him and working her hands up and down him while he licked all around her opening.

  She saw his hand reach out for the bottle and guessed the real why of that now, and revelled in him spreading the oil all over her sex and massaging it in. With the size of what she had in her mouth and grasp, Freya wasn't sure if even this would be enough to make it possible but oh god she needed this man inside her.

  So much she would have missed with her own plan to be the dominant Morrigan... so much she had been given instead. Now she was the one on her back again, her lubricated body pushed high on the cushion ready for coupling, watching this magnificent man tearing a packet open in his want for her. She was about to take a risk that days ago she'd have called deranged and now thought it no risk at all.

  "Don't... I want just you, Callum MacKrannan. I was sent to you, wasn't I?"

  He looked like one of the fertility gods, all muscle and virility and primed as he came onto her, bracing his hands above her shoulders and easing her thighs wide with his knees.

  "I never doubted that... and I claim you now, Freya Harper, the Fair Lass of Monlachan..."

  There was something ritualistic in the way he matched her name up with the portrait and himself, and his eyes never left her as he slid slowly into her, just far enough to make her mouth fall open in astonishment at the sheer size of him as she felt herself stretched beyond bearing. The oil made it so much easier than it would have been, yet her tears still slipped out and trickled round towards her ears.

  Callum froze. "Sorry..."

  "No need... I'm not a virgin... just feels like I might as well be."

  He dipped his head to kiss away her tears. "You're no' alone in that. I'm feeling a bit of a beginner here because it's you."

  Her hands found his backside, as hard and defined as the rest of him, and urged him closer. He moved fully inside her then, filling her to the limit and staying very still. With his weight braced on his forearms, he was kissing her and then stroking her face and hair and gazing so intently at her that she was lost. There was no going back from this. Everything felt so right, as if all the deities had reached through time and made it so.

  And then he began moving ever so gently, making her whole body sing in harmony with the stars. The sensation of fullness was overpowering as he pleasured her with his immense manhood, rocking into her, giving her longer thrusts as she gradually grew used to an invasion of this size and came to crave it. The cushion beneath the quilt held her high, and the angle let him reach even deeper. Her hands were all over his back, feeling the muscles mirror his movements and tremble under her touch as she started to come.

  He pinned her wrists above her and suckled her nipple, thrusting into her faster and harder. At the far reaches of her mind was that Celtic room with its gods and goddesses and they were living people, happy for her and Callum and blessing this union. Arionhod came to her, weaving her spell of cosmic fate and time and granting her rebirth. Danu came to Callum, giving him the flow of life.

  The helplessness came over her in waves, her orgasm so intense and so beautiful as she pulsed and clenched him and he kept driving into her, never letting it end.

  "Freya..."

  He was trying to pull away now and she urged him with her hips and her heart to stay in her. Never had she risked anything like this.

  "All of you, Callum... It has to be all of you..."

  He rose over her, blocking out everything with his huge frame as he took great ragged breaths, and thrusting hard and deep until he went rigid in her arms and filled her with his seed.

  He held her so tightly then, taking her with him as he rolled onto his back. His mouth stayed on hers, kissing her with every bit as much passion as he'd shown before, seeming to be in no rush to cast her aside now.

  It took a long time for them both to come down from such a high, the rush of it still ringing all through her when he finally moved the cushion away and brought a sofa blanket to cover them.

  She drifted contentedly to sleep on his chest to the sounds of the rain and sleet hitting the windows and the logs sparking in the fireplace and the steady thump of the heartbeat of Callum MacKrannan.

  The bath was far too wee to take both of them as he would have liked, but the shower was a powerful modern affair that sluiced them well and the hot water supply seeming as endless as their need of each other.

  With his back against the tiles to save Freya from any chill, he directed the spray onto her shoulders and her thighs into the crooks of his elbows and entered her tentatively, feeling her wince.

  "Too soon?"

  "Just a bit... serves me right for needing you again! No, don't you dare stop..."

  She clung onto his neck and he bounced her into another waterlogged oblivion, her bonnie hair splattering across his chest and her kisses sweeter than ever he'd known.

  Only when the water turned lukewarm did they reluctantly part and dry each other – and came together in the bedroom again when she went looking for clean knickers, which were on less than a minute before they were off. They let each other go only when his stomach gurgled yet again.

  "I really need to feed you, Callum, don't I?"

  "Or I could feed you. Are you no' peckish yourself by now?"

  "Very." She had a nibble at his chest.

  This time he carried her into the kitchen. "Get a quick snack for yourself out the box. And stay there, else I'll never get my kilt back on."

  He found the brochures for the local eateries and went back through to find the box emptied out and Freya holding a casserole dish in front of the open fridge. The lass's long wet hair was still wrapped up in a pale blue towel that matched her eyes, and he thought he'd never seen a bonnier sight than the smile he got when she turned and saw him.

  "Can we eat here, Callum? Do you mind? I can cook."

  No doubt about that if Isla Harper's dinner was any measure, but he helped her anyway, just to be near her. They worked in easy tandem, laughing about everything and telling each other stories from their lives. Once the casserole was in the oven she went to dry her hair while he set the table by the window and opened some wine.

  The skies had long since cleared and the stars were near outshining the new moon – and the Merry Dancers were putting on a wee show too, and stayed with
them all through dinner. The aurora borealis wasn't a novelty for either of them but he was glad of its appearance this night.

  Now that Freya's physical needs were sated in all ways, she was working up to asking questions that he'd rather no' be answering for a while yet. They'd come far since her base lust of last night. She'd accepted his claiming her, but then she'd be thinking it was a temporary thing. A while to go yet before she was his forever.

  More of a worry was the guilt that might hit her now about her man in Dubai, and what she would do about that. He filled their wineglasses and took her to sit by the fire, tossing another log on and snuggling her in between his legs.

  She rested against his chest, staring at the flames. Her first question, when it came, was simply put.

  "What am I doing here with you?"

  Far too soon to tell her much. Freya must work this out for herself.

  "I have to believe you were sent to me, as you said. All else is your choice. You tell me, lass."

  She bit at her lip. "The portrait has powers of its own. I've felt them, but I don't know if they affect only me. What does it do to you? Truth, Callum..."

  He took a deep breath and gave his answer some thought. Sitting here at the fire in the intimate silence with their emotions still running so high, every word spoken mattered because it would be remembered.

  "Seeing you for the first knocked me sideways, because I remembered the picture from my youth and here it was alive and standing in my Banqueting Hall. Seeing the portrait again when you unwrapped it... a different sort of intense, I would say, for I'd remembered it right and it was definitely you. I do no' feel its vibes as you do – but then it's no' my ancestor who painted it."

  She shifted slightly and brought out another question. "Your ancestors created that room with the carvings, though. What's that place about? Why would that affect me if the portrait doesn't affect you?"