by K. E. Saxon
She cried out, her hips coming up off the bed. She dropped her hands to the top of Bao’s head.
“Nay, lie still or I can’t pleasure you the way I know you crave. And I've not given you permission to lower your arms, either.” When she settled back with them flung above her head once more, he lifted his hand from her thigh and slowly entered her pulsing canal with his middle finger.
She twitched and trembled, gave out a soft moan of pleasure, but forced herself to lie as still as she’d been ordered to do.
With his other hand, he opened her labia wide and began his oral onslaught as he stroked in and out of her. He licked and nibbled. He teased her inner lips with the turgid tip of his tongue. When she felt a new flow of love juices rush from her passage, he glutted himself on it, groaning in delight, increasing Jesslyn’s need by thrice.
She tossed her head from side to side, a strangled cry pushing past her clenched teeth. “Oh, God,” she ground out, a feeling of hot and cold voluptuous pleasure running down her limbs as Bao stroked some inner pleasure center inside her womb. She opened her thighs wider still.
She was already close to climax when Bao began to flick her clitoris with the tip of his tongue as he massaged the sensitive spot in her vagina. She spasmed. “Ahhhh!” she screamed, feeling her orgasm in every nerve ending of her body. Her hips tensed and lifted high off the bed as she splintered into a million specks of starlight. And just as she felt the last wave crashing over her, Bao did something to give her another one. Three times more he sent her reeling into heaven. And, just as he’d said he would, as the last one was ebbing, he lifted her knees over his arms and pushed himself inside of her, riding the wild tide of her release.
* * *
Bao’s gaze settled on the junction of their bodies. Black hair mingling with flaxen. Male encircled by female. Hard mating with soft. He closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth as he struggled to keep himself from coming. She was just as tight as she’d been the first time. So narrow, in fact, that he’d thought he might hurt her again when he entered her. Thankfully, however, she’d been more than ready for him this time. But the feel of her inner muscles contracting around him was almost more than he could withstand without allowing his own release.
He felt her relax back on the mattress and opened his eyes. “You are so lovely,” he said fervidly. His gaze dropped to her slightly rounded belly. Lovely, and carrying his bairn, he reminded himself. “We must finish this with you astraddle me, for I fear I’ll be too rough with you otherwise.” Placing his arms under her back and shoulders, he rolled to his side and then his back, remaining inside her. Now she lay on top of him, limp, hot and drenched from the dew of her recent exertion.
“Can you stand one more, my love?” Bao asked as he rotated his hips under her, teasing the hooded nub of her pleasure center with his pubic bone. He pressed her hips down further, forcing her to take more of him inside of her. Her sheath tightened around him and Bao gasped.
“Mmm. That feels good,” she mumbled. She raised up from her prone position on his chest and, using his shoulders as leverage, allowed him to manipulate her movements in the way he enjoyed.
Bao lifted his head and suckled her right breast into his mouth. He was close, so close. But he wanted to feel her climax around him, feel her milk him of his seed with those strong inner muscles. He nipped the turgid peak with his teeth.
She gasped and her sheath clenched.
Bao threw his head back. “Ahhh!” His hips jerked up just as she pressed down on him. His seed burst forth in the most intense pleasure-pain he’d ever experienced as he held her hips down and ground into the convulsing channel that so snugly clamped around him.
She cried out and collapsed onto his chest.
Bao kissed her temple.
After a moment, she lifted herself from him and he hissed in a breath, his cock still ultra sensitive to the tug of her feminine channel, but he didn’t try to halt her retreat.
She rolled off of him and onto her back.
They spent some time catching their breaths and then he rolled over and kissed her, holding her head still with his palms on either cheek. After a long moment, he broke the kiss. “That was better than all the times I’ve imagined having you again,” he murmured against her lips.
She smiled. “Aye.”
He took possession of her mouth once more, lifting her limp arms and placing them around his neck, deepening the kiss before stroking his hand over her breast and down her side. He rested his hand over her swollen belly where their babe dwelled and felt the tap, tap of his bairn on his palm. He grinned against her mouth. “I believe we awakened the babe.”
The babe tapped harder then.
She giggled. “Aye,” she said and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you gave me your babe that day at the fall,” she murmured. “I’ve wanted it from the moment I realized its existence. Thank you.”
“You thank me for getting you with child and then leaving you to defend your condition, take care of yourself and your bairns, without benefit of husband?”
Jesslyn shrugged. “Well, mayhap not that part of the tale.”
“Aye, I should hope not.”
* * *
“You’ve truly been traveling around the Highlands for so long? ‘Tis so exciting!” Branwenn said to their first footer as he sat with her at the table and devoured his meal. He must not have eaten for a long while, she thought sadly. She glanced once again at her grandmother, who sat a few feet away by the hearth with Laird Donald enjoying a glass of spiced wine. She still held the pouch of salt in her lap that the stranger had given them when he’d requested entry. Branwenn hoped he could afford to give away his meager supply. Tho’ he’d told them upon entry that he was of a good family, that his name was Reys ap Gryffyd, and that his father had been lord over a large estate to the south, his clothes were quite worn. But, they were of the finest scarlet and his leather boots, the work of a superior craftsman, giving credence to his assertion of gentle birth. Mayhap, he’d simply fallen on hard times during his journeys.
Reys shrugged. “Aye. It pleases me to meet new people, but the land this time of year is difficult to travel o’er,” he replied after swallowing the portion of swan he’d jammed into his mouth.
Branwenn ran her eyes over their guest. He was such a handsome man. With eyes as blue as midnight and hair as black as pitch that fell just over his ears. Shorter than the Highland men liked to wear their own, but still very attractive. And he was tall of stature, too. A good augury for the new year. He was a big man as well. Not as big as Bao or Daniel, of course, but at least as big as that devil Callum. And she’d been eyeing that strange stringed instrument he’d placed next to him on the bench as well. Would he be willing to play it for her later? She hoped so. She loved music. Always had. In fact, Bao used to tease her mercilessly when she was a bairn because she was always trying to make sounds with anything that she found lying about. He especially hated it when she put dried peas in one of the silver wine flagons and shook it vigorously. For hours. The memory made her grin. “By what name do you call that instrument?” she asked, tipping her head in its direction.
Reys glanced down at it. “‘Tis a crwth; ‘tis akin to a stringed lyre.” Placing his hand on its rounded base, he stroked the polished wood. “This be an instrument well known in the land of my kin.”
“And where be that?”
“Cymru, some know it as Cambria.”
“‘Twas the land of my mother!” Branwenn turned on her seat and called out, “Grandmother! Reys is from Cambria, just as my mother was!”
Her grandmother’s nod held indulgence. “We must hear all about you, lad, and what’s brought you so far from your homeland,” she said.
“Aye,” Laird Donald agreed, “Mayhap, after you’ve finished your meal, you’ll come sit by the hearth and give us a song or two and tell us your tale.”
“Aye, I’ve a yearning to do just that,” the man replied. Turning back to Branwenn, he ask
ed, “Where be your mother, lass? I’ve a longing to see a fellow countryman after all this time.”
“Alas, she died giving birth to me.” His look grew more intent and she felt herself blush. “I was raised by my brother, Bao, who’s the mightiest warrior in all this world.”
“Bao? An odd name for a Highlander,” he said.
“‘Tis the name given him by his mother; she was from Cathay,” Branwenn replied.
Reys’s spine straightened and his look sharpened. “Was your mother’s name Gwenllian wreic Gryffyd of Penrhos?”
A cold chill ran down Branwenn’s spine. “Aye,” she said slowly. “How know you this?”
“I didn’t, not with any certainty, until now,” he replied softly. “She was my mother as well.”
Branwenn leapt from her seat, as a high-pitched ringing resounded in her ears. “I don’t believe you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She swayed a moment before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
After a stunned moment, Reys leapt to his feet and pushed the bench aside, then knelt down beside her.
“Branwenn!” Laird Donald shouted. He rushed over to the prostrate figure, lying half on and half off the dais, and placed his hand on her cheek.
“What happened? Is she hurt, Lachlan?” Lady Maclean asked, struggling to rise.
“She swooned, I believe,” Reys said.
“Aye, it looks that way,” Laird Donald said. “Let’s get her into a more comfortable position. Help me lift her onto the dais, lad,” he said to Reys.
Lady Maclean came up to stand near Branwenn’s prone form, worry in her eyes. Motioning to the young servant that stood next to them all, she said, “Here, lad, get us a bit of water and a cloth.”
Grasping Branwenn’s limp hand, Laird Donald murmured, “Branwenn? Can you hear me, lass?”
Reys took the dampened cloth from the servant and gave it to Laird Donald to place on Branwenn’s brow.
Branwenn’s eyes fluttered open. The face of Laird Donald swam before her a moment before she finally focused. Confused, she struggled to sit up.
Laird Donald put his arm around her shoulders and helped her adjust her position.
“What happened?” she asked dazedly, taking the damp cloth away from her face and tucking it in her other hand, which lay limp in her lap.
“You swooned, my dear,” her grandmother said.
Branwenn’s eyes made a slow scan of the faces of those huddled around her. When they settled on Reys, her head jerked back and she let out a short gasp. In a rush, the memory of their conversation flooded back. Without realizing she was doing it, she held out her hand and grasped her grandmother’s wrist.
Her grandmother’s sharp gaze settled first on Branwenn and then on Reys as she soothed Branwenn’s tensed fingers with a stroke of her own. “Has this young man done something to offend you, Branwenn?” she asked stiffly. “He shall certainly be made to leave forthwith, if such is the case; doubt it not, my dear.”
Reys remained silent, but his eyes held alarm and question as they fastened on Branwenn’s countenance.
Branwenn shook her head. “Nay, Grandmother, Reys has done naught wrong. I must have risen too quickly and become a bit dizzy. Releasing her grandmother’s wrist, she held her hand out to Reys and asked, “Will you help me to rise, sir? I believe my spell is well past now.”
With a quick nod, Reys did as she requested.
“Will you play for us now?” Branwenn asked. She could not take her eyes from the man’s visage. The longer she gazed upon it, the more she was convinced of their relationship. In fact, there was such a strong resemblance, she was amazed now that neither she nor the others had seen it immediately upon his arrival. But she was not yet ready to make known this twist in her life’s tale. First, she wanted to know his reasons for looking for her. Did he plan some mischief, or was his search simply in answer to a need he felt to find a long-lost sibling?
“Aye, with pleasure, m’lady,” Reys replied, his mien kind, less tense than the moment before. He turned, retrieved his instrument and descended the dais. Settling by the warmth of the hearth’s fire, he began to play. With a voice clear and true he sang in his native tongue:
Hearken, sweet skylark…
When the last note was sounded, Branwenn clapped her hands with glee. “That was lovely. Will you play another?”
“I don’t think that a good idea, lass,” her grandmother said. “Not after the tumble you just took. I think it better that we find our beds instead and get our rest. The day has been long, and the night, longer still.” Looking toward Reys a brief moment before turning back to Branwenn, she continued, “And I’m sure this young man would be pleased to get some sleep as well.”
Disappointed, Branwenn replied, “Aye, Grandmother.”
Her grandmother turned back to their guest and said, “I’ve had a chamber prepared for you in the north tower. I shall send a servant along with you to light your way. Mayhap, you’ll play for us again on the morrow?”
“Aye, m’lady, if it please you. My thanks for the warm lodgings this bitter eve. ‘Tis been awhile since last I rested in such luxury.”
“You must stay here as long as you wish, lad. You’ve a wan look about you that bodes ill for your health. Traveling further in the ice and snow will only worsen your condition, I trow.”
“My thanks, m’lady, for your hospitality,” he replied before departing with the servant that had been summoned to lead him to his bedchamber.
“What a courteous young man our first footer is,” her grandmother said to Laird Donald as he escorted her and Branwenn up the stairs to their chambers. “And, as the legend decrees, the new year is ripe with promise since he stepped o’er our portal.”
“Aye,” Laird Donald agreed. “And he’s a talent with that stringed instrument as well. I’ve a want to hear much more of his playing o’er the next days until I depart. His voice is one of the best I’ve heard.”
Branwenn was deep in thought. She had to tell Bao of this discovery as soon as possible. She’d love to wake him now, but she dared not. Not with Jesslyn in the same room. Tho’ she loved her sister-in-law dearly, this was not something that she wanted to share with her right away. She needed Bao, needed his strength and his insight. But, most of all, right this very moment, she needed her brother’s strong arms around her, comforting her and telling her everything would be all right. Because, tho’ she knew instinctively it was true, Reys was not the brother of her heart, the brother who’d raised her from a babe, who’d saved her life, who’d protected her, who’d cared for her, who’d sacrificed his freedom for her. Nay, he was kin by blood, but not by love. Not yet, at least. And mayhap, he never would be, if his motives for finding her were for some foul purpose.
They halted outside the door to Branwenn’s chamber. “Good night to you, lass, and happy Hogmanay,” Laird Donald said before bending down and giving her a kiss on her cheek.
“Branwenn, you look as worn as an old woolen rag. Get some sleep, my dear. There’s much to do on the morrow to clean the keep of the remnants of our celebration,” Lady Maclean said. And then she, too, gave Branwenn a kiss, adding a quick hug as well. “You’re a good lass. I hope you enjoyed your first Hogmanay feast with us.”
Branwenn nodded and swallowed a yawn. “Aye, Grandmother. I had a fine time. I especially enjoyed the dancing earlier—until Callum decided to meddle and destroyed my good humor.”
“Fret not. You’ll dance again when we celebrate Bealltainn in a few moons time.”
Branwenn nodded. “Good night, then.” She entered her chamber and closed the door behind her. She was torn. Part of her wanted to wait until her grandmother was abed and then find the chamber where Reys had been settled and question him more fully about his proclamation. But the other, more weary, part of her simply wanted to rest. Her grandmother was right; they had had a very long day. And she was exhausted. Her weariness won the battle and she prepared for bed. Surely, they’d find a way to have a privy discuss
ion some time on the morrow. And besides, that would give her time to speak with Bao first as well. Mayhap, ‘twould be better if he accompanied her when she questioned this new-found brother of hers. Aye, that seemed the best solution.
Her worries put aside for the moment, Branwenn went to bed. And dreamed she was a water nymph living in a sea cave, an auburn-haired, green-eyed warrior, her mate.
* * *
CHAPTER 11
Early the next morn, long before the bells of matins rang, Lara stormed across her bedchamber, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips curled in derision. She had no desire to aid the ladies of the keep with whatever duties needed doing after the feast of the night before. And she would be obliged to do it, she was sure, should she leave her chamber for any length of time once the household had awakened. She would much prefer to wander the outer perimeter of the keep in search of a likely candidate for her new pursuit. Most of the men had been released from their duties this day and ‘twas the perfect opportunity for her to find a suitable lover.
She’d slept little after Callum and she had exchanged words last eve. He’d left their chamber a couple of hours ago and never returned, so she assumed he’d found a bed in another part of the keep. Which suited her needs perfectly.
She chewed on her thumbnail. Mayhap, with a bit of wile, she might sneak out. She could go to the stables and have her horse saddled, and then take a ride on the glen. Aye, ‘twas still black as pitch, but many of her best trysts had started in just this way.
