Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  “Excuse me!” Effie yelled out over the clang of metal. Her body jumped with every hammer strike.

  The smithy stopped, stood up straight, and turned toward Effie. “Och, lass, me morn just became brighter.” He winked.

  Effie smiled. “’Tis a good morn indeed, Rodrick.”

  Rodrick Carmichael laid his hammer against the anvil and eyed the beautiful redhead up and down with the devil twinkling in his eyes. “And what brings ye here?”

  “I’m here for Alice’s lock and key. Is it ready?”

  “Aye.” Rodrick wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “Come in, I won’t bite.” A sly grin crept across his tanned masculine face. “Unless ye want me to.”

  Daring to step over the threshold, Effie stepped inside the shop. “Now, Rodrick Carmichael, mind yer manners. That be no way to talk to a lady,” Effie scolded. She was used to dealing with overbearing Highlanders full of themselves, and this man was no different. He had enough virile spirit to make even the ox envious.

  Once inside, Rodrick busied himself in search for Alice’s lock. This gave Effie some time to look around the shop. A huge stone hearth took up most of the space, for the shop was small. One wooden workbench stood in the center of the room with various files and chisels scattered about. A selection of different sized sledges and tongs neatly lined one side of the wall. A true craftsman’s workshop, she thought.

  A cot lay in a darkened corner with a small nightstand. As she viewed the cot, she wondered how life would be married to a blacksmith. Rodrick was the best at his craft; in fact he provided the finest weapons and was bragged about throughout Scotland. This was why James had moved Rodrick closer to the castle and paid him generously.

  Not to mention he was easy on the eyes. Long black hair hung over his shoulders and his body was massive. A lass could drown if she stared too long in the deep blue depths of his eyes, she mused. But it wasn’t just his ability to forge a magnificent sword or even his stunning features that made the people of Scotland talk. His reputation with the lasses was enough to heed caution. It would take an act of God to stop that man’s wandering peepers. Plus he wasn’t Conall.

  Effie huffed as her heart fluttered to her stomach. Who was she kidding? No mortal man would ever come close to Conall.

  “Aye, here ye go, lass.” Rodrick handed her the lock and key.

  “Thank ye verra much. Alice will be pleased, I assure ye.” Effie began to make her way to the door when Rodrick stopped her. “Ye dinnae have to leave so quickly.”

  Effie turned to face the smith. “And why would ye want me to stay?”

  Rodrick crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I would like to get to know ye better.” Quickly he stumbled through his words. “Nay, not in that way... but I want to know ye...Effie.”

  Enlightened, yet cautious, Effie walked towards the wooden table that sat in the middle of his shop, keeping her focus on the man. “There’s no’ much to know.” She fumbled with a file on the worktable. “I’m just Effie.”

  “Och, lass. Ye be much more than ye think.” Rodrick smiled.

  Suddenly the hammers and tongs began to rattle on the wall and the tools on the bench arose to a chatter as they danced across the wood. A loud clinking echoed out as the fire poker came crashing down on the floor. The ground shook with might.

  Panic pricked her spine as she felt herself lose balance. Before she hit the ground, she was pulled into a wall of hardened muscle as the blacksmith and Effie were thrown to the ground. Rodrick lay on top of her and covered her body with his, protecting her from falling debris.

  Even though the shaking had only lasted a brief moment, to Effie it seemed like forever. Coughing through the dust, breathing became difficult, adding to the fact she had a hulking Highlander pressing against her body. She felt every pebble from the ground dig deeper into her back. “Rodrick,” Effie puffed out, “I cannae breathe.”

  Rodrick’s massive arms encaged her head as he leaned on his elbows, supporting his weight. “Are ye hurt?”

  Effie swallowed hard past the dust in her throat. “Nay, I’m fine but ye’re squishing me.”

  The blacksmith paused, looking down at Effie as if he was thinking about kissing her. His thumbs brushed against her cheeks as he studied her face.

  Effie grew impatient with the man. “Rodrick Carmichael, get off of me!” She struggled beneath his weight.

  “Effie, me and ye could be good together,” he purred and kissed her cheek.

  “Get off!” Effie pressed her palms into his chest, trying to shove him. What was wrong with this man? They could have been hurt. “For the love of saints!”

  The shop door flew open breaking off its hinges and Conall rushed in. Hit with surprise stares, Conall grabbed the smith by his tunic with both hands and threw him off Effie. Then he offered his hand to help the redhead up.

  She ignored his hand after giving him a glare of disgust.

  Conall stalked Rodrick until they both were chest to chest. “The lady said to get off of her. Are yer ears working well today?”

  “Ye broke me door.” The smith motioned to where the said door used to be. “Ye will fix it!”

  Effie dusted the dirt from her dress and informed the men, “I have had about enough of this...this barbaric nonsense!” She grabbed her basket and stormed out of the shop, leaving the men to their swinish bantering.

  Once outside the chill nipped at her skin as she welcomed the fresh air. The earth had shook and all they could think about was fighting. Absurd, Effie thought as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders and strode towards the castle. Worried about Abigale and her babe, she quickened her pace. The ground shakes were recurring often enough to cause worry. Even though the laird had reassured everyone not to, it still made the hairs bristle on the back of her neck.

  A rough hand grabbed Effie’s arm and spun her around. “Where are ye going?” Conall demanded.

  “’Tis no concern of yers. Now release me arm.”

  “I’ll let go if ye stop running from me.”

  “And what makes ye think I’m running from ye? I do have better things to do than to be concerned aboot ye.” Effie was beyond frustrated with him and the way the blacksmith had treated her. She had to take her anger out on someone and Conall just happened to be the one standing in front of her. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time, to best describe it.

  “God’s wounds, Effie, haven’t ye heard the rumors about the smith? Why would ye go into his shop alone? ’Tis like sending a lamb into a lion’s den.”

  Effie snatched her arm out from his grip. “Are ye spying on me?” She looked at him crossly.

  Conall stood with his hands on his hips with a sly grin on his face. Looking down, he kicked at a rock. “What be the matter, Effie? Ye know me better than that.”

  “I went to pick up a lock and key for—”

  “I know why ye were there, lass. I asked why ye would go inside his shop.”

  Effie narrowed her eyes at him. Was he thinking the worst of her; that she would whore herself out to the blacksmith? Anger began to boil over her and she was about to burst. “Conall Hamilton, I can choose who I want to be with; I do no’ need yer blessing. Furthermore, ye have no claim over me.” Effie turned on her heels, but yet again Conall wasn’t letting her go. He spun her around and now they stood face to face.

  “Meet me at our place.” A seriousness radiated from him that heated her to the core.

  Effie gazed deeply into his eyes. “Conall Hamilton, I will no’—”

  Conall cupped the back of her neck and pulled her closer until their lips were a mere whisper apart. “Meet me at our place.” His voice was low and held a promise that she knew he would keep. A promise that kept her coming back for more. A promise of pleasure to come.

  With a sly grin, Conall unpinned his cloak and handed it to Effie as he quit the bailey and trotted toward the glen’s edge before she could protest. Truly she meant to stand firm and walk away, but the man drew
her in and captivated her. She was his prisoner and his beautiful little secret.

  HIGHLAND STORM

  CHAPTER THREE

  Effie paced outside the edge of the glen’s tree line with her hands on her hips, cursing herself for a fool. Why couldn’t she say no to this man? How was he supposed to take her seriously if she kept caving in to his every demand? Appalled, Effie blew a red strand of hair from her face and said, “I can no’ believe what I’m about to do.”

  Yet again, she could believe it. Conall was the only man who made her feel alive. The way he bedded her was like nothing she had ever felt before. He savored every inch of her body relentlessly, always coming back for more. It didn’t matter how many times he made love to her, it always felt like the first time when they were together. She just wished she could talk about it, especially to Abigale and Alice.

  Perhaps she was a wee bit jealous watching James and Abigale share their love for one another openly. They were inseparable. Abigale beamed about her husband’s wicked ways of pleasure and it only made her want to talk about Conall in the same light. It was only natural to want to brag about him. Wasn’t that what women did behind closed doors, gossip about their lovers?

  The more she thought about it, the more she began to ache for Conall’s touch and his kisses that drove forth her primal need for him. A need she felt right now warming her body and settling at her core, causing her to tighten her thighs to relieve the throbbing. “For the love of saints!” The excitement was too much to hold back. Effie flung her basket to the ground along with Conall’s cloak and raced deep into the forest.

  Crunching leaves beneath heavy feet alerted Effie that he was here; he’d been waiting for her. Alas he would have to wait a wee bit longer, for she wasn’t ready to be caught. Quickly, she hid behind a big yew tree. Her chest rose rapidly as she tried to suck in the cool air. The glen became eerily quiet. The ground trembled slightly and she grinned.

  Although they had played this game of cat and mouse numerous times, the thrill was still there nipping at her stomach. The rules of the game were simple; if she could reach the circle of stones first, she was safe, but if he caught her, she was his for the taking.

  Convinced that Conall was still a ways away, Effie took off toward the stones with god speed. Her cloak whipped behind her as she pumped her legs as fast as she could, for she knew this path like the back of her hand, weaving between the trees. Almost there. Just around the bend and she would reach the circle.

  He stalked her like wild game, even though he was out of sight. Knowing it was a bad idea to take her eyes off the stones, she dared to glance back behind her. When she turned back around she came to an abrupt stop. Her heart raced and she smiled. It was Conall.

  A huge silver and storm gray dragon stood before her. Twin massive horns proudly perched on top of the dragon’s head seemed to touch the sky. Scales glistened as a ray of sunlight cast through the trees and shined down upon him. He folded his wings as he approached her. “Ye’re late,” Conall growled deeply. Although his mouth didn’t move, Effie could hear him through mind speak as if he was a part of her being.

  Through labored breaths Effie replied, “Nay, ye were a wee bit slow in catching me this time. I do believe I almost outwitted the dragon.” Effie smirked and removed her cloak.

  Conall laughed, which was more like a deep belly-rumble, and began to circle her. Warm air from his nostrils blew down her neck making her heart thump faster. She closed her eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t make her wait long. “Aye, lass, I thought ye might have changed yer mind and went home.”

  “I wanted to, but me legs didnae want to move in that direction.” Effie seductively unlaced the front of her dress as she looked up into the massive dragon’s eyes. They stormed gray and flashed blue with intensity.

  Conall bent his head down and brushed up against her chest. “I’m glad ye came.”

  Effie took a step back and her dress pooled at her feet. Her curly red hair hid her perfectly round breasts as she stood in front of the dragon as naked as the day she was born.

  For the briefest moment the cold air caused her to shiver and her teeth began to slightly chatter. As if the dragon sensed her discomfort, he quickly wrapped his tail around her waist, pulling her closer. Rough scales brushed against her soft flawless skin, sending an erotic sensation through her body. For the love of saints! When is he going to shift?

  Building up anticipation was the torturous part of the game they loved to play. The more he held back, the more she craved his touch.

  Her body pressed against his warm chest as she caressed his silvery scales. They were tough for shielding against arrows; a perfect body of armor, she mused. Yet, soft when touched the right way.

  In a flash the dragon’s tail disappeared. No more did Conall stand before her as a dragon, he was now flesh and blood; human. A naked human to boot.

  His stormy eyes soaked in every inch of her figure as if he was making love to her with his eyes. She trembled as he licked his lips and approached her. Strong, powerful hands gripped the sides of her head, pulling her into a ravenous, soul-crushing kiss. Effie wrapped her arms around his neck, positive that if she hadn’t, she would have melted to the ground. As he warmed her with the heat radiating from his skin, the cold was soon forgotten.

  He kissed her with vigorous passion like only he could deliver.

  For the love of saints, who was she fooling? She could never leave Conall. No mortal man could ever compare, he was her dragon to love even if she had to stay a secret.

  ~~~~~

  With her back against the tree, Conall thrust deep into Effie and knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. Holy hell! Seeing the blacksmith with Effie was enough to set his dragon flying off the cliffs of jealousy and into a sea of impulsive desire to stake his claim, and not just physically. Bastart! Not only did he have his wife’s ghost pressuring him to marry the lass; now his dragon was adding his opinion. In fact he didn’t recall asking the beastie for his blessing.

  Feeling her legs tighten around his hips, he knew his red-haired lass was close to crumbling in his arms. Off to the side he saw her cloak piled on the ground. Conall moved them over to the spot and laid her down. Staring back at him were vibrant eyes as green as the glen’s grass in spring. He brushed the back of his hands against her cheek. There was much more to their relationship than he realized. Had it been there all along? He felt like he was seeing her for the first time, the true woman who had stolen his heart.

  “Conall, what be the matter with ye?”

  He smiled down at her. “Be me wife.” He didn’t know where the words had come from and hell, he didn’t care. Perhaps this morning’s pondering had finally become clear to him. He wanted Effie to be his wife.

  “Yer wife?” Effie creased her forehead in disbelief.

  “Aye.” Conall thrust deeply inside her again making her moan and her body arch beneath him.

  “Finally ye’re going to make an honest woman oot of me, aye?” she panted and teased.

  Conall stilled and held her stare. “I’ve never questioned yer honesty. ’Tis me I question. I failed me last marriage. I dinnae want to fail ye.”

  Effie tightened her legs around his waist and took his head in her hands. “Ye could never fail me, Conall. Ye saved me.”

  “Then ye’ll be me wife?”

  She was holding back the tears, he could tell by the way her chin wrinkled and her bottom lip quivered. Before he knew it, she’d flashed him the brightest smile he had ever seen. “Aye.”

  Conall returned her smile and pressed his hardened length deep inside her, pumping her hard and fast. In rhythm, the passion they shared began to build to a fever pitch, causing them to crash through the walls of ecstasy together.

  Trying to catch his breath, he buried his head alongside her neck, relishing in the sweet honey scent of her hair. Christ, he needed this woman more than the air he breathed. Everything about her drove him daft. Her boldness amused him, her intelligence intrigu
ed him, her beauty was beyond temptation, but most of all Effie was strong; she was a survivor.

  As Effie lay wrapped up in Conall’s arms, he kissed down her neck and trailed down between her breasts. “When shall we marry?” Effie asked amongst heavy breathing.

  Conall rolled over on his side, propping himself up on his forearm. His free hand roamed her body. “James needs me to oversee a situation. Something about cattle raiding of some sort. I shall be no longer than three nights. Will that give ye enough time to prepare?” He grinned.

  “Ye’re giving me three days to prepare our wedding?” Effie said, shocked.

  “How much time do ye need? Ye get the priest, put on a dress,” Conall shrugged his shoulders, “and be done with it.”

  Effie playfully slapped at his chest. “If that’s what it takes to get ye in front of the priest then it shall be done.”

  Conall leaned over Effie and kissed her. “As far as I’m concerned, ye be already me wife. I do no’ need a priest’s blessing.”

  ~~~~~

  For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, they stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms until the threat of cold crept up on them. Effie tried to remove herself from Conall’s arms but was quickly stopped. “Where do ye think ye’re going?” He tightened his arms around her.

  Effie beamed at the fact that he didn’t want to let her go; however the cold pricked at her skin and she began to shiver. “I’m getting dressed, ’tis cold.”

  Conall pulled her closer into his body and instantly she started to warm. “Conall, I have to start planning our wedding. Dinnae ye think we should be getting back?”

  “Nay.” Relentlessly, he kissed her neck.

  “Ye’re distracting me.” She pushed at his chest.

  “Aye.” Ignoring her, Conall continued his sweet assault down her chest and captured a pink nipple with his mouth.

  For the love of saints, this man drove her daft. She supposed that he was getting his fill of her before he left for three days. Three days, she pondered. Arranging a wedding in three days was going to be a task. Panicked, Effie sat up as Conall huffed his disapproval. “Conall. I have three days, three days to arrange our wedding. I can no’ stay here any longer.”