The Warrior and the Druidess

by Cornelia Amiri

  The expression on his face held a blend of urgency and tenderness. Her nipples stiffened as he peered at her bare breasts. With the light, fluttery touch of his fingertips he stroked her breasts. Her thoughts were jolted from her mind, overcome with the sultry pleasure of his touch. Cupping her breasts in his large, warm hands, he stroked them in a slow circular motion. Every muscle in her body stretched with tingling relaxation. While Brude massaged her breasts, he inched forward and brushed her lips with his.

  As he twisted his mouth over hers, his intoxicating lips tasted hot, tinged of saltiness. She sensed from the slow, intense kiss that he drank the essence of her soul sip by sip. He thrust his tongue between her parted lips, deepening the kiss.

  He eased his palms off her breasts and rolled her nipple with his index finger and thumb on one breast and then the other. He slid his lips off hers and pressed a kiss as light as the touch of a butterfly wing on each erect peak. She released a mew of pleasure. When he flicked his slick, soft tongue over each nipple, her entire body trembled. Ever so lightly, he nudged her rosy nipples with his teeth.

  Moist and quivering in the apex between her thighs, the sensitive hidden flesh aching with need, her breath grew shallow. Every pore of her being screamed its need to her.

  He dipped one finger into her entrance, moist with arousal. She panted and thrust her hips bringing his finger deeper into her. He stroked her deep heat, pumping her with his finger.

  He eased his finger out of her and grabbing her soft shoulders, he turned her so her breast and smooth belly pressed against the ancient rock. Her skin tingled as he stroked her ass. He cupped, massaged, and squeezed each cheek, treasuring her body, invoking feeling in her of being worshiped, of being special, of being loved.

  Then his hard chest and flat stomach covered her smooth back and soft, lush bottom.

  He inched his long cock into her sex. She reached her hand up high and pressed her palm against the stone. She gasped as he lay fully embedded in her. Something burst inside and pleasure flowed through her. His hard cock filled her completely. He covered her hand with his as she dug the heel of her palm into the stone. As he pumped into her, his firm, muscled flesh pressed hard against her shapely, smooth body, crushing her against the rock. The way flames of a red blazing bonfire wrapped around a long log, the fire in her depths encased him. Angus’ deep shuddering breathing matched the sound of a roaring amber blaze.

  Her inner walls stretched around his hard erection. She gasped and he let out a deep moan. His hot, slick flesh slid in and out of her. Headiness filled her and she burned for more of him. Euphoric, her mind let go.

  He quickened the pace, pounding into her. Her breath came in short pants. Grain upon grain of fierce joy fired and molded into a hard, solid ball of acute pleasure pressing on the rim of her sexy. Panting and squeals erupted from her. His body quivered against hers. Her essence, liquid heat, flowed down the stone as it drenched his arousal. They stood with the sacred rock, panting and spent, rapt with joy.

  As they basked in the light of the full moon and the warmth of sharing their bodies on their wedding night, roars, yelps and hurrahs cut through the air from the Caledonii by the bonfire.

  “The last couple has said their vows, and the feast begins.”

  “Yes, they are all heading down the hill to the banquet hall.”

  Hastily, they threw on their clothes. With his arm wrapped around her, they joined the migration down the hill and entered the feasting hall with everyone else. Tanwen and Brude took their place beside Ciniatha and Calach at the short table at the head of the hall.

  The nine maidens served the food. Tanwen chewed crunchy apples and hazel nuts and shifted from their sweet taste to the bitterer one of leeks and turnips. Brude ate his fill from all three choices of meat, the boar as well as roasted bull and stag. Like the other newlyweds, Tanwen picked up one of the little, antler shaped cakes made by the nine maidens for the god of Samhain, Cernunnos. She held it to Brude’s mouth, and he ate from her hand, biting off a whole antler with his teeth. He ran his tongue over his lips, licking up every sweet crumb.

  He then fed a sweet antler to Tanwen in the same way. As she ate the soft, moist cake, she couldn’t help but remember the way they feasted on each other against the standing stone. The sacred phallus stone …conception this night? A baby? She came to fulfill Boudica’s destiny, but to think of the change a child would make. Yet, the miracle of it, a babe of my own, feeding from my breast. If not tonight, then soon she would give Brude a child.

  With thoughts of the new family she and Brude would soon have, Tanwen fastened her gaze on the feasters scattered across the hall. Here and there, between clusters of people, lay empty animal pelts with plates piled with food in front of them. These were the places set for the spirits of the dead who came through the oak door to feast at Samhain. Her family and her ancestors were here at her wedding, sharing this day with her— her brother, her mother, her father, her aunt and her grandmother ,who had foreseen this very day. She wiped a tear from her eye.

  After feasting, the tribe climbed up the hill where the kids played a game with an apple hanging from a stick alongside a lit candle. One by one, amid squeals and giggles, they tried to take a bite of the fruit while the flaming candle dangled dangerously near. Adults sat with each other, telling funny stories, and some serious ones of the events of the past year, encouraging the dead who gathered with them to take interest in the affairs of the living. Others danced around the bonfire, and many couples broke off from the crowd to find little spaces of privacy here and there for coupling long into the night.

  Brude swept Tanwen into his arms and carried her all the way down the hill and to his wheelhouse, where he laid her on his soft bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Brude led his men on horseback through the cold, windy day, trotting over snow-covered ground and herding three skinny cows, he hoped he’d have time with Tanwen in the evening. Curing the sick in the cold winter months kept her so busy, she had little time for him.

  Drawing his horse to a halt, he raised his hand, signaling his men to stop. “Let the cows roam here.” He pointed to the copse of oak trees nearby. “We will hide behind those trees and wait for a Roman hunting party, scourging for food.”

  With a solid oak tree between him and the road and holding his sword at the ready, he awaited the Romans. Some of his men were naked even in the freezing, biting air, though he chose to fight in his cloak and braies. Tanwen had painted a woad symbol of goddess Andraste on his forehead. Her prayers and rituals guaranteed success in the raid today.

  One of his men cawed like a raven, signaling that he had spotted the enemy. Alert, Brude’s warriors raised their swords and spears and clutched their shields tight as three Romans rode into sight.

  Brude waited as the soldiers circled the cattle, flashing broad smiles at the cows. They were jabbering away in Latin, their voices rising in excitement at the thought of eating beef tonight. Brude had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing as he thought, well at least the ravens will eat well from your corpses.

  With a blast from the horn that he carried around his neck, Brude signaled his men to attack. Rushing forward, they blared the Caledonii war cry while waving long swords and throwing spears. Soon, the three Roman soldiers lay on the white snow, soaked in scarlet blood.

  Brude ordered, “Round up the cattle. We’ll slaughter the fattest cow and feast tonight in honor of our victory.”

  The men cheered and offered praise to Brude all the way back home. He rode into the village, victorious from yet another raid. Tanwen ran up to his horse.

  He vaulted off his steed and drew her into the circle of his arms. “My thanks to you Tanwen. The gods were with us once more.”

  She glanced at the cattle they had herded back. “And I see your spear and sword skills made waste of the Romans.”

  “Three dead with little trouble.” He grinned. “We feast tonight.” He held her snugly.

  “It is goo
d, but we don’t have to wait until this eve to celebrate.”

  He pressed his lips against her soft, pursed mouth. The wet kiss blasted bolts of fire through him.

  When he released his mouth from hers, she pressed her head against his broad chest, nestling there.

  “I am so glad you returned safe and sound.”

  His chest burned where she laid her head against him. His heart pounded. “I did, and the Romans we slew were out hunting, so the men back at the fort will likely go hungry tonight.” Brude ran his fingers down her silky, red hair. He breathed in her feminine scent, which reminded him of wild spring violets.

  “This is the way we will drive the Romans from the shores of Caledonia,” Tanwen said with the sense of conviction. “They excel in warfare on a battle ground, but ambush and surprise attacks are their weakness. Yet these are our strengths. We must continue to fight them in hand-to-hand combat in small numbers.”

  With his arm wrapped around her shoulder, they headed to their wheelhouse. “You know there are those who disagree with you.”

  Tanwen looked up at Brude, in a serious tone she queried, “Are the other chiefs still pressuring Calach?”

  “Yes. They want to end it once and for all. They argue for a pitched battle to wipe out Agricola’s legions in a field of blood.”

  “The chief should not listen to these fools. Our strength is in surprise attacks and quick retreats so the Romans can't capture us as slaves or prisoners. That tactic succeeded for Boudica. She burned three main cities to the ground.” Tanwen’s face shined with steadfast strength.

  "But the chiefs do not ken this, and yet to battle the Romans we need these foolish leaders as allies. Therefore, Calach must honor them by listening when they speak. This you know.”

  “You must persuade Calach to do right by the gods. Battle the Celtic way, not by lining all his men up on a field for the Romans to slaughter.” The corner of Tanwen’s mouth twisted with frustration.

  “I see the wisdom of your words, but he is chief. When I’m chief, I shall heed your counsel over all others, but with my father, it is not so.”

  “Our land, our beliefs, our whole way of life is at stake,” Tanwen said solemnly. “I’ve called upon the gods in rites and rituals to cast violent storms against Agricola, thwarting his campaigns this winter. I shall continue to do so. But if Calach listens to bad advice, he’ll ruin all the gods have done for us.”

  “But for now, put these cares away.” He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. “We feast tonight, filling our bellies of meat and mead.” The celebration this eve, eating and drinking, and the merriment they would make alone in their wheelhouse tonight filled his thoughts. The tingling in the pit of his stomach reminded him how much he missed her, though he was only away for a short time on the quick raid.

  “It is good, Husband.” She wrapped both her arms around his neck and leaned up to give him a heady kiss with her full, pink lips.

  He clasped her body even tighter against him. Brude’s heart beat erratically as Tanwen’s soft curves molded to his hard, muscular physique. His mouth covered hers hungrily. The delicious sensation of her soft, slick lips sent spirals of heat through him. Their lips parted and he rasped, “It is good.” He swallowed as he gazed into her eyes, smoldering with fire. “So good.”

  * * * * *

  Tanwen could no longer imagine life without Brude. If he battled the Romans in the field, he would likely die and leave the Caledonii slaughtered like cattle before winter, as was the fate of the Iceni and the Ordovices. Calach had to ignore the foolish chiefs. The Caledonian tribes would only defeat Rome if they heeded the will of the gods.

  The hem of Tanwen’s druid cloak trailed across the rushes that were strewn over the packed earth of the feasting hall. She loved the warm hall in winter. Steam rose from the large roasting pits dug in the packed earth, and the black cauldrons were all a boil, hanging above the roomy central hearth.

  They sat near the hearth at a square, squat wooden table with Brude’s sire and mother. A servant girl poured them each a cup of mead. Raising their glasses high, all four knocked their cups together in a toast to the day’s victory.

  “A fat cow roasts in the pit for us,” Brude’s mother announced.

  “You did well today, my son.” Calach patted Brude heartily on the back.

  “The cattle made for good bait, father.” Brude took a swig of ale. “You must stay on this path of ambushes and surprise attacks.”

  “Battle on a field against the Romans will not end well.” Tanwen leaned toward the chief. “Heed the fate of my own grandmother.”

  Calach offered her a slight smile and nodded his head as if acknowledging the babble of a child. She had to take this matter to the gods. All could be lost. The Smertae were so hungry for blood to wipe on their faces, they would bring all the tribes down by trying to slay all of Agricola’s legions at one time. It was an An impossible task.

  “Mayhaps we should sup first and talk war later.” Brude smiled at her.

  A reward for the successful attack, a leg of tempting beef was placed on his plate, while the chief, his wife and Tanwen received generous slabs of juicy meat.

  Tanwen gazed at Brude and drank in his masculine beauty as he gulped the sweet, thick mead. After the feast, she would honor him in her own way in their chamber. Tanwen silently vowed their love play would heat their bedchamber in the dead of winter hotter than the glowing hearth fire.

  Brude chewed the joint of beef then set it back on his plate as he gazed at her with fire in his eyes. She reached out her hand and covered his wrist with hers. Lacing his fingers in hers, she squeezed his hand. His lips came down on hers in a slow, shivery kiss. Her mouth burned.

  When the harpist began to play and the dancing started, Brude stood. Taking Tanwen’s hands in his, he pulled her to a standing position as he gazed into her eyes. “I would rather dance with you alone.”

  “Yes,” Tanwen whispered.

  Arm in arm, they strolled to the wheelhouse. As soon as they reached the door, Brude covered his mouth with hers. She wrapped her smooth arms around him. Lifting her off her feet, he cradled her in his arms and then carried her inside. He laid her on the smooth bull hide which draped the soft pallet. She let out a low, whispery moan. His heart beat erratically.

  Having eased her checkered shift off her, he dropped the garment to the floor. Brude gazed at the creamy flesh of her beautifully formed breasts and rose tipped nipples. His gaze swept to the curves of her hips, tapering into long straight legs. His eyes roamed to the downy mound at the juncture of her lithe thighs. His breath caught. Blood pounded in his brain. Slowly, his gaze swept up to her face. Her skin was pink with eagerness, an expression of raw hunger. She quivered, but he knew it wasn’t from the cold. She trembled with need.

  She watched as he urgently undressed, dropping his cloak, tunic and braise onto the floor. Placing one knee on the pallet, slowly, like a lion to his prey, Brude crawled on the leather hide towards Tanwen, who lay there awaiting him.

  Brude slipped his legs over her limbs, his torso covered hers and his muscular biceps laid on top of her shapely shoulders. Warm and yielding, she stretched out beneath him.

  Fiercely, his mouth swooped down on hers and sucked the sweet honey of her nectar. Tanwen’s fingers fondled his lime-washed, spiked locks. Instead of the chill of the dead of winter, his senses experienced standing on a soft, sandy beach on a summer day. He felt the sea waves rushing in, wetting his feet as his toes sank deep into the shifting sand. The warm sun caressed him as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. “Tanwen, my love.”

  The heat from her body spread through every fiber of his being. Her lips were wet and warm from the kiss. Brude burned. Again, his lips captured her pink, petal-soft mouth. He pressed down, molding her willing lips to his. Blood pounded in his head. His tongue grazed the softness of her mouth, and then slid between her parted lips. Brude thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth. Blasts of heat surged through him.

  S
liding her soft, warm hands down the side of his body, she grasped his muscled thighs, and dug into his flesh with her nails. Brude burned. His arousal swelled and ached with the yearning to sheath it to the hilt, deep inside her.

  Tanwen skimmed one hands down his body and as with her other she danced her fingers across the hardened, bulging flesh of his erection, stroking back and forth.

  Brude felt he would burst there in her hand. “I want to look at you.”

  Tanwen rasped, “Yes, my love.”

  He raised up on his knees and scooted down the bed. He knelt between her legs.

  Spreading her long, creamy legs wide, she opened herself, offering herself to him.

  Brude’s body throbbed with fervid need as he peered into her deep, sultry heat. He dipped his finger into her sweet canal. He churned her creamy, hot liquid core until she panted and moaned.

  He withdrew his hand, dipped his head, and his tongue, like wet fire, plunged into her depths.

  Gasps and soft whimpers escaped her lips. Boiling, bubbling over, she breathlessly rasped, “I want you.”

  Brude stretched out, covering her body with his. He prodded then lunged his hard erection into her hidden heat. As he filled her, Tanwen bucked with the impact of his powerful thrust.

  On fire, feral cravings took hold. With a constant flow, in and out, he pumped into her, plunging higher, faster each time. As he pressed harder, her moans became deeper, more desperate.

  The rhythm inflamed his blood even more. He plunged again and again into her sex. He was mad with battle lust from the earlier attack, but most of all, he was mad with love for this druidess, his wife.

  They were an inferno, rising flames engulfed them until together they quivered with release. His body stilled, and his pounding pulse began to slow. He breathed deeper.