Father Monahan watched in silent horror as Fordun began a ritual of the likes that the priest had never seen before. Yes, he had heard tales of such vile practices taking place, but he never imagined it to be so visceral. Wildly he looked around, searching for anyone to help him but finding only impassive faces. His stomach lurched as he realized this was his final fate, and he began struggle in his bonds once more.
“Please,” he begged, though with the gag it came out nothing more than a hmmmph!
“Shhh,” Fordun whispered, his hands moving in the air. A look of pure serenity had come over the witch-hunter’s face, shaking the priest to his core.
How could someone so murderous look so calm?
“All will be well,” Fordun promised, switching to English only for a moment before returning to his speedy Latin.
Behind Fordun, the fire grew brighter, nearly blinding Father Monahan, and he felt a sudden and rather vulnerable sense of peace wash over him.
Bartholomew looked over the mess that Fordun had left behind at the waterfall for him to clean up. In all his years he hadn’t really had an issue with cleaning up his Lord’s messes, but this one was different than the others. Something about it made his stomach churn viciously and made him want to turn on his heels and run for the first time since coming into Fordun’s servitude.
It was clear something was going wrong with the man. Lately the good in him that had once called to Bartholomew to be faithfully at Fordun’s side was waning. He hoped that whatever the Lord had just tried to do, it worked and brought Morgana to them.
The images of the three young women froze in his mind, and he silently prayed that finally capturing Morgana would bring him his much-needed peace.
Chapter 23
McCarthy’s Cliffs, Scotland
“Come on,” Gregor insisted, holding up a raw oyster. “Ye have no idea what yer missing!”
Morgana wrinkled up her nose as she looked at the gray little body sitting in the half shell. When she had told Gregor the day before that she had never seen the ocean, he had surprised her the next morning with the trip. He had gotten up early, readied Hermes and her pony Cinnamon, and had gone to the kitchens to have a picnic lunch prepared for them.
At first she had been worried that it wouldn’t be safe, but Gregor was two steps ahead of her. He had already sent a scout along the road hours before, and they would be taking four additional guards on the several hour ride.
Zeus was all but healed, but Gregor had fastened him a small wagon that hitched to Cinnamon’s saddle for when he needed a rest. The journey had been beautiful. They had traveled at a slow but steady pace, and it afforded Morgana the chance to take in the Scottish countryside.
When they reached the cliffs, Morgana had been rendered speechless by the beatific scene laid out before her. The day, though warm, was not particularly sunny. Giant, gray clouds hovered above the bluish-gray sea, the colors mingling so perfectly at the horizon that it looked as if they blended together.
In the far distance and in the blacker clouds, a fork of lightning pierced the darkness. A storm was rolling in, but it had looked to be several hours out, and the wind was soft. To Morgana, it was a perfect day to see the ocean for the first time.
The path to the pebbled beach was too steep for the horses, so the guards tended to them while she and Gregor agilely made their way down to the shore. Once there, Gregor purchased a half-dozen oysters and a paste of lemongrass, horseradish and tomato from a fisherman’s shack, and went to work on them.
Morgana had watched him curiously as he pried them open with his dagger. It was an interesting process to watch, and she had been given a lovely surprise when Gregor had pried one open and found her a shining pink pearl. Still, she wasn’t sure if they could actually taste good.
“It looks…slimy,” she protested.
Gregor looked down at the oyster, shrugged, and slurped it back. When he finished he smacked his lips in satisfaction. He then appeared to be in deep thought before he began to nod his head.
“Aye,” he admitted. “A wee bit slimy. But so delicious. Here, ye give it a try. I promise ye’ll love it.”
He picked up another oyster, shucked it, and then topped it with the paste. Morgana’s stomach rolled as she took it, but as she felt the little mollusk slide over her tongue and down her throat, she was surprised to find it delicious.
“That’s incredible!” she laughed, licking the corner of her mouth.
“Aye, I told ye!” he laughed, happy with himself.
He split open the remaining three and they ate contently as they watched the storm roll in from the ocean. The wind was blowing it closer inland now, bringing a refreshing cool to the otherwise warm summer day.
“Should we be heading back soon?” Morgana asked. As she did so, a bolt of lightning licked the sky as a clap of thunder shook the earth. Above them the gray clouds were roiling, slowly turning black.
Gregor nodded. “The storm is coming faster than I thought,” he confessed, his eye on the clouds.
“We won’t be able to outrun it though. Best we ride into town and bunker down at the tavern for the night.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Morgana asked, taking Gregor’s hand to stand up.
Gregor packed the blanket into the basket and grabbed it with his right hand and led Morgana up the cliff’s path with his other.
“They’ll have stables for the horses and cots and rooms for the men,” he assured her. “No one here ken who ye are and those who dae ken me understand that I am a man that likes his privacy. I promise ye lass, we’re safe.”
Although still slightly nervous, Morgana nodded in understanding, and continued following him up the path. As they approached the horses and guards, the clouds above let out another roar of thunder and let loose a heavy rain. Within seconds the lot of them were soaked to the bone as Gregor lead them at a gallop to the village.
To her relief, it was barely a fifteen-minute ride away to the outskirts, and only another five before they reached the tavern’s stables. She and Gregor both helped rub down Hermes and Cinnamon before they braved the downpour once more to dash into the tavern with Zeus following by their side.
“God’s teeth I haven’t seen such a rainfall yet this year!” Gregor exclaimed as they burst through the door. Around them the scarcely-occupied room let out a murmur of laughter. From the bar, a middle-aged man with a long beard and a friendly tavern keeper’s expression came around to them with blankets.
“Och, if it isn’t me dear friend!” the man exclaimed, handing out the blankets. “Got caught in the storm, aye? Look at ye’s, all drookit.”
Morgana stood there, fascinated, as Gregor and the barkeep dissolved into such a heavy brogue of Scottish conversation that she couldn’t comprehend a single word. The two gestured as friends would do, and at the end Gregor gave him a small purse and they clapped each other on the back. The barkeep then pulled out a key off of his ring and handed it to Gregor.
“If ye need anything please be sure to let me ken,” the barkeep offered, turning to Morgana. “And ye, me dearie, the missus will be up shortly with some hot tea and dry dress for ye, alright?”
“Thank you so much,” she replied, in awe of the generous gesture.
Gregor had purchased them the largest room. It had a wide bed dressed in black bear furs and white sack pillows that sat across from a fireplace and a washstand. On the wall opposite the door sat a wide bookshelf littered with seashells, silver tobacco cannisters, and pipes. In the corner of the room sat a small round table with two chairs. Atop it sat a clay bottle of spirits and two small clay goblets.
It was simple, but cozy. Gregor promptly went to the fireplace and used the stone and flint to set the tinder and pre-stacked wood ablaze. In no time the room was filled with a steamy warmth. Outside, the storm was thrashing at the windows heavily, the thunder and lightning constant.
A knock came at the door and when Morgana opened the barkeep’s daughter came in with a sim
ple beige and white dress slung over her shoulder, a pair of trousers, and a simple white shirt. In her hands a large tray that balanced two large mugs of ale, two bowls of stew, a hunk of cheese, and two large slices of warmed bread slathered in butter.
“Thank ye, Tara,” Gregor said warmly to the young girl.
“Always a pleasure, Laird Henwen,” she replied softly, her soft cheeks blushing brightly. Morgana muffled a laugh as she saw the clear affection for Gregor shine from the lass’ eyes. To her happiness though, Gregor’s eyes were already back on Morgana.
Tara, with her young adolescent heart broken over Gregor’s lack of attentions, swiftly curtsied and murmured her goodbyes. Before she left though, Gregor pulled out two silver coins from his pocket and handed them to her. The affectionate smile returned to her face, and she practically floated out the door.
“What?” he asked, catching her look.
“Not a thing,” she replied, deciding to change the subject. “The food smells delicious, doesn’t it?”
And indeed it did. Delicious scents of savory rabbit, vegetables, and fresh bread teased Morgana’s nose. Despite just eating barely an hour before, her stomach growled hungrily.
Chapter 24
“Shall we?” she asked, looking at the food.
“Nae just yet,” Gregor replied. He picked a linen from the wash basin rack and opened it up for her.
“Let’s get ye dried off first, before ye catch yer death.”
Feeling giddy, Morgana closed the space between them. But when she reached for the linen, he pulled it out of her reach.
“Not yet,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. He dropped the blanket onto the back of one of the chairs, and placed his hands on her waist. Gregor’s warm touch seeped through the fabric, igniting her insides in a rather delicious manner.
“Let’s get ye out of these wet clothes, shall we?”
She began to tremble as Gregor’s hands glided around her waist, to her back, and the corset of her new mint-green dress. As he began to work with her ties, Morgana pulled her hair from the loose up do, and reveled in the relief it brought to her head.
Pleasure streaked through her as Gregor’s hands moved up her arms to loosen the stays. When he finished, he worked the fabric slowly down her body until it fell into a wet heap on the floor. Gregor kneeled, and helped her step out of it before he undid her boots.
Once her feet were bare, he gripped the hem of her shift and brought it up to her hips. Eye level with her mons, Gregor parted her curls, and kissed the sensitive bud of flesh there. She gasped and trembled in shocked pleasure as his tongue darted out and a flicked over the bud once, twice…over and over until her knees threatened to buckle.
Morgana whimpered in protest when he finished stripping her, slowly rising up to bring the fabric up over her head. Morgana stood, completely exposed as Gregor’s eyes swept down her enticing figure. She felt heat drive into her nipples and mons as his eyes lingered over them before slowly making their way up to her eyes.
The hunger for food disappeared entirely then, replaced with something much more carnal. Gregor’s eyes were practically glowing in the firelight, full of the same type of need that was coursing through her own body.
“You should get out of your wet clothes too,” she rasped, wanting to be able to look at him the way he was looking at her. Perhaps even taste, if she were so bold. Her arousal made it hard for her to speak, and bit her lip bashfully.
A primal growl came from Gregor’s chest as he watched her bite her lip shyly. Between her legs, she felt a curious warmth tingle. She loved how gentle he could be at most times, and how savage he could seem at others. It was a savagery that she didn’t quite find savage at all in fact, but utterly satisfying all the same.
“Come undress me then,” he welcomed her, relaxing his stance.
A smile played at Morgana’s lips as she reached out and pulled his shirt up and over his head. Beneath the fabric Gregor’s well- muscled chest radiated heat. Unable to help herself, she placed her hand on his chest, and she reveled in the feel of him. The coarse hair tickled her palm as she slid it down over his nipple, down to his chiseled abdomen, and to his hips.
Several inches down Gregor’s manhood throbbed achingly against the fabric. For a moment she simply stared at him, allowing a bit of a tease for herself. Then, with nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to his ankles. He stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.
Following his actions from before, she went to her knees. Once there, she looked up at Gregor and found him staring at her intently. Keeping his gaze, she opened her mouth and slid her tongue out slowly to taste him.
Another growl escaped his throat as she her tongue explored his length. She lapped over his hard ridges, tracing the vein that throbbed from root to stem before taking his pulsing manhood fully into her mouth. A small moan left her throat as she tasted his salty dew, excitement coursing through her.
Feeling emboldened, she took as much of Gregor’s length into her mouth as she could. He groaned and thrust his fingers into her hair as she explored him with her mouth. As if unable to help it, Gregor’s hips began to move back and forth as he lifted her mass of curls up and away from her face.
For several delicious moments Morgana stayed there, letting her curiosity take over as she suckled at him. Then, as if he couldn’t take anymore, Gregor slid himself out of her mouth, his hands still bunched tightly in her hair, and guided her to her feet.
Immediately his mouth came down on hers in a passionate kiss, making her moan and melt into his arms instantly. As if she weighed nothing, he swept her up into his arms and laid her down on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. Gregor looked down at her greedily, taking a moment to absorb her beauty as he loomed above her on his knees.
“Look at ye, ye bonnie creature,” he rasped, his gaze hot. Reaching down, his fingers danced wickedly over her breasts, switching back and forth between teasing her nipples and massaging them as he rekindled her kiss.
Immediately Morgana spread her legs wide, hitching her ankles around the back of his calves. She had enjoyed their little tease, but now the ache to be filled was becoming too great. She wanted, needed him inside of her so much that she felt she was about to burn up at any moment.
“Please,” she begged, tearing away from the kiss to bite and kiss down his neck. “I ache for you.”
Gregor groaned at the sound of Morgana’s needy pleas filling his ears. Not wanting to hold back, he brought his hips down to hers until the tip of his turgid length rested at her warm, wet center. Gently he began to move his hips back and forth so that he could brush the top of her mons, but not yet thrust inside.
Morgana moaned, her hips bucking with his own as he continued the tease for only a moment longer. When he couldn’t take any more of it he pulled his hips back and in one swift, intense motion, he thrust himself deeply into his beloved.
Pleasure burst through as he felt her tightness envelope him, coating him in her sweet juices. Immediately they found their rhythm, Morgana’s nails digging deliciously into his back as his hips drove back and forth.
Gregor loved the way he felt when he made love to Morgana. As a lover she was wild but kind, soft but intense. Her kisses crept into his mind and gave him the sweetest dreams. They chased his longing away, and brought him to light.
He knew he was falling in love with her. Perhaps, he already was. Not once since she’d moved into the castle with him had he felt guilt or sorrow over his late wife. Instead, he felt hope, and a desire that he seemed unable to possibly quench.
Morgana’s openness pleased him immensely, and he finished first rather quickly, his excitement overtaking him. It did little to ease the ache or lessen his hardness though, and he continued making love to her vigorously. He reveled in the way her nails dug into his shoulder blades as he led her to a faster, harder pace.
Below him, Morgana’s eyes rolled in pleasure as her lovely moans filled the room. He loved
watching the satisfaction in her face as he brought her closer and closer to her release. In fact, he was sure that it was his new obsession.
The second time he came was more powerful than the first. It barreled through him like a cannon, leaving him groaning and trembling as they stayed locked in place. Still, despite the intensity his member was still throbbing and ready for more.
“Easy, lass,” he moaned, capturing her mouth in a sloppy kiss. She moaned at his kiss, her hands thrusting into his hair. He gathered her closer to him and slowed their pace down almost torturously. Slowly and with great concentration, Gregor slid himself all the way out of Morgana’s hot sheath until his tip barely rested inside of her.
Lusting for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 16
