Some Like it Plaid

by Angela Quarles

  He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the spell Mungan had started was not to send her back, but to create this circle of warmth and safety for them.

  He stroked his thumbs across her cheekbones, and she shivered. But he knew it was from his touch and not the cold. He took a step back, and she followed, and the moment she stepped into the circle, any lingering tension from their exposed position or from the cold seemed to ease from her muscles.

  Joy flared in her eyes.

  Then she gave him a coy smile that heated his insides, and she unhooked the silver brooch clasping his mantle closed at his neck, her knuckles brushing his skin. She pushed on his shoulders and the cloth dropped in a pool at his feet. He shivered at the love he witnessed in her gaze and from the touch of her hands.

  This was his wife.

  He smoothed his fingers down the pale column of her neck, the moon lending its light to make her skin glow. He stroked a fingertip along her pulse point, which now beat faster.

  She pulled in a sharp breath. “Connall,” she whispered, her voice full of wonder.

  He leaned down until his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “Let me make love to you,” he murmured. Her body trembled at the touch of his breath and his words against her ear.

  She turned until her own mouth was at his ear. “Yes.” And then she gently bit the soft flesh.

  He groaned, his knees nearly buckling as heat and urgency fired through him. Drawing on all his strength, he suppressed the need to hike up her skirts and push between her luscious thighs. Instead he unwound his kilt, watching her track every move of his hands revealing himself to her.

  He toed off his sandals and stood before her completely naked, completely vulnerable. The magic from the circle warmed the air, and the tattoos along his skin felt as if they moved and tingled.

  She brought her hands up and slowly drew her tunic over her head and stepped out of her skirts. She also removed her shoes, and when she straightened and faced him, Connall swayed at the beauty of her—the dip of her waist, the full curves of her breasts—highlighted by the moonlight.

  A shudder seemed to go through her, from her toes, up her legs and to her fingers, as she gazed on him in wonder.

  Everything felt right.

  He spread his fur-lined mantle across the stone. Then he straightened and held out a hand, palm up, and her lips curved into a smile. She eagerly slid her palm across his and interlaced their fingers.

  He sank down to his knees on the mantle, and she copied his movements, almost mirroring his motion and position. Her fingers traced the blue tattoos across his shoulder and down his biceps, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her soft, exploring touch.

  Then those fingers nudged his shoulders, and he followed their gentle urging and laid onto his back. She straddled his lap and stroked her hands over his chest, and Connall gritted his teeth at the strength required to hold back. Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. And while everything inside screamed to grip her hips and impale her on his rigid length, he restricted himself to roaming his hands across her shoulders, watching in fascination as goose bumps of desire followed in the wake of his palms.

  Then she inched backward onto his shins, bringing her out of reach. His hands fell useless to his sides. “Ashley?”

  Then she smiled and leaned forward. And licked him. All up the length of his aching cock.

  His hips bucked at the shock of desire that coursed through him. Then she brought her mouth fully onto him, and he groaned at the new sensation—of her hot, wet mouth, the pull and suck.

  His hips bucked again, but she had his legs pinned, restricting his movement. Pressure built at the base of his spine as he jerked and gasped.

  “Enough,” he growled. “If ye continue, I’ll spill my seed. And that’s not where I’d like to be spilling it.”

  Her eyes flared with heat, and she released him. “God, what you just said…Wow, that was hot.” She licked her lips and crouched over him on all fours, her breasts gently swinging. He took himself in hand, stroking up once to feel the evidence of her mouth on his member. And then he very nearly did spill his seed. He ground his teeth and captured her gaze with his own. “Come to me now, will ye. I wish to be sparing your back.”

  And honestly, he liked the idea of ceding control to her. If they were to be equals, it needed to be in every aspect.

  She slowly lowered herself. He nearly closed his eyes at the exquisite sensation but forced them to remain on hers. The effort, and the love and awe reflected in her eyes, nearly undid him as she brought him, inch by inch, into her body, accepting him, welcoming him.

  When she was fully seated, her lips parted and her chest rose and fell on a slight breath. And then her body shuddered for a brief moment as she adjusted to his girth and to their joining.

  Heat—from the magic in the air, from the urgency—rushed across his skin, and she began to move in small undulating movements, her eyes never leaving his.

  He traced his hands up her slim waist and cupped the sweet, heavy curves of her breasts. She moaned and bent closer, and he skimmed a hand along her spine down to her buttocks and squeezed, pressing her tighter to him.

  And as he held her in his arms and she made shallow strokes against him, a feeling of joy and wonder flowed through him, riding the pleasure that grew and grew until it was a tight ball of heat.

  “Ashley,” he gasped.

  “I know,” she replied.

  For this was more than satisfying a need. Each small stroke felt as if they were entwining themselves closer and closer into each other. Their breaths matched, their heartbeats became one, and the beauty of the joining, the sharing, felt so monumental he couldn’t fathom it. He only knew that this woman was his everything.

  Then her mouth dropped open as her whole body stilled and then shuddered, her sex milking his length in exquisite, tight pulls.

  Knowing he’d be following her in but a moment, he gripped her hips, raised her slightly, and pushed into her one final time. His lower back tensed, his balls tightened, and all the emotion building between them seared down his spine, and he exploded inside her.

  As he pumped his pleasure into her—pumped life into her—and her body still shuddered from her own fulfillment, he held her face, held her gaze.

  “I love you,” he whispered, his cock still kicking.

  “I love you, too,” she breathed.

  Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her as tight as he could, her skin to his, feeling himself soften inside her.

  And as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms and fought for breath, he glanced up at the half moon now farther along in its journey across the sky.

  Magic had brought them together. But it was their own magic which kept them together. Made them strong together. And he could never be more thankful.

  Later, after they’d made love a second time with a fierce passion—as if giving in to the need and urgency they’d both wanted to express the first time but held back—they slowly dressed and stepped outside of the circle, the night’s cool air brushing his skin once again.

  He clasped her hand, and they turned and looked upon the stone and then to the moonlit wooden walkway below, leading to Dunadd, leading to their hearth home.

  From his belt pouch, he fished out the pin she’d crafted. “Will ye pin this on me?”

  She smiled up at him. “You found it.”

  “Aye. Today.”

  And grateful he was, for it had not set well with him that he’d no longer possessed this. And finding it again had started to bring his hard head around.

  …

  With fingers trembling from excitement, Ashley pinned the metal sword to the cloth covering his chest. So much had happened since she first gave this to him. Even since he’d lost it.

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Ready to go home?”


  Home. Warmth spread in her chest at that word and what it meant for them. She looked up into his eyes. “Yes.”

  He led her down the incline to the horses hobbled nearby and helped her mount.

  Oh man, she was sore down there and this was not going to be an easy ride. He swung onto his horse and brought it alongside hers. He looked past her to Achnabreck, a slight frown crossing his features.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s strange, but ever since I came here to stop you and accepted that I had nothing to be ashamed of regarding my behavior when the raiders came—”

  “The ones who took your brother?”

  He nodded. “Ever since, as if shedding that shame opened up space within, I’ve felt a memory tickling at me, but it refuses to come.”

  “What kind of memory?”

  “Something that I overheard and which I’d not remembered before now.” He tightened his fist against his thigh and his horse sidestepped. “But I can’t bring it fully formed. It eludes me.”

  She reached over and covered his fist. He visibly relaxed and glanced down at her.

  “Don’t tug at it,” she whispered. “Let it come on its own and it will.”

  “But what if it’s something that will help us find who took my brother?”

  “Even more reason to not struggle with bringing it forward, or it may never surface.”

  He cupped her face. “Of a certainty, I found the right woman for the job of being my wife.”

  She laid a light punch against his side and laughed. “Indeed, you did. But…” She searched his eyes and frowned. “But you know you don’t need to find him to redeem yourself.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “But I’d like to find him for his sake. And because he’s my brother and I miss him.”

  “Then we will.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Two months later

  Ashley leaned back in a carved chair in the keep and glanced around the council table to where Eithne sat. The older woman met her gaze and smiled. After Ashley had returned for good to Dunadd, some major changes had been made to the workings of the tribe. The biggest change? The council was evenly made up of women and men.

  Today they were discussing the merits of Domnall also using the druid’s magic and finding a wife from another time, because one thing had not changed—the tribe was still woefully short of women of child-bearing age.

  The chief nodded to everyone. “It’s decided, then. Domnall, you will step through at the Summer Equinox.”

  Domnall, who wasn’t a member of the council but had been invited to the meeting to discuss this, drew his shoulders back and nodded. “I will not fail you.”

  “And I can coach you before you leave,” she said.

  Mungan stepped from the shadows, and Ashley startled, even though she knew he was there. “We don’t know that he’ll end up in your time period. The magic will bring him to the right place and time.”

  “I know. But I can still help prepare him. Give him advice about what to do and what not to do.”

  Connall leaned forward. “As can I. Their method of eating is odd. There are people in buildings who stand behind a long table and ladle food already prepared onto your plate.”

  Domnall frowned. “What do I need to provide in exchange?”

  “Nothing. No barter required.”

  Wait. “What?” She pulled on his arm. “Are you telling me you ate at a soup kitchen the whole time you were there?”

  “It’s where my friend Norton brought me, aye.” He turned back to his brother, and she shook her head, laughing softly. “And another thing, one method of greeting is to tap your chest thusly”—he rapped the spot over his heart—“and say, ‘Beam Me Up, Scotty.’”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh, and Connall looked at her sharply, eyebrow raised. “Is that not correct? I may have the words wrong as they were in your language, but I believe that’s how you greeted me in the café.”

  She nodded, her eyes watering from suppressed laughter. All she could do was wave a please continue hand.

  Connall eyed her and smiled, then turned to his brother. “Ye need to ask the prospective lady if she enjoys washing men’s underwear if you want them to not be stiff in anger.”

  Now she snorted and elbowed him. “I’ll show you stiff underwear later.”

  He grinned at her. “Promises, promises.” He draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, and she reveled in being in the shelter of his strong arms, reveled at the easy affection he showed her in front of everyone.

  Mungan nodded to the chief. “If you have no need of me until then, I will be visiting some distant lands. But I will return in time for the Summer Equinox.”

  “Very well,” Eacharn replied. “Take what supplies you need.”

  When the chief adjourned the council, they all stood and placed their fists into the center of the table. Connall nodded to her.

  “One for all,” she said.

  “And all for one,” everyone replied at once, their male and female voices echoing in the close confines of the keep.

  Some left straight away, while others resumed giving Domnall advice on his impending departure. Connall and Ashley sat back down and, while all eyes were trained elsewhere, Connall’s free hand crossed over to her and rested gently on her belly. His fingers spread in a protective gesture, and happiness and affection and love welled within her on a sudden tide. She blinked to dash away some moisture from her eyes.

  She placed her own hand over his and smiled up at him. He brushed his nose along her cheek. “I love you,” he rumbled low.

  Below their linked hands, a new life grew. She’d told him only that morning, when she’d woken him with a kiss and then said, bringing his hand to her belly, “Looks like we’re increasing your herd after all.”

  And though they made love every chance they found—for they couldn’t get enough of each other—she was convinced that the baby had been conceived that night in the magic of the spring equinox.

  So much for Queen Anne’s Lace.

  Or had it been the druid’s magic, after all?

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  Author’s Note

  You will not find this Highland tale peppered with words and expressions such as dinnae fash and bairn and ken and the like, for those are words from the Scots language (a distinct language separate from English and Scottish Gaelic), whereas the Highlanders would have been speaking mostly Scottish Gaelic. And since writing Connall’s point of view in Scottish Gaelic wouldn’t have been smart or possible, I used English and tried to use the syntax and grammar of Gaelic to give a flavor for the era, and used English words for concepts he would be familiar with.

  Dunadd, meaning “fort on the River Add” in Scottish Gaelic, is a real Iron Age site in Argyll, Scotland. Several hundred years after the events in this book, it became the seat of the kingdom of Dál Riata. Unfortunately, not much historical record for this site exists for the time period of this book, so I took liberties in imagining the layout of the site, as well as events, using what little I found in my research to go from. We do know slave raids happened at this time, and that the Romans did occupy the Antonine Wall at this time and engaged in skirmishes with the Caledonians and other tribes in the area. The arcani were like modern-day secret agents who were tasked with keeping an eye on the natives between Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall. Sometimes, they blended in so well with the local tribes they “turned.”

  As far as Connall’s people, the Epidii, they were a tribe recorded by Ptolemy in that region, though the name is a Latinized version of what neighboring tribes called them since it’s P-Celtic (from a Briton or Pict informant). If the Romans had asked Connall’s people instead, the Latinized version would have been something like Echi
dii to adhere more to the Q-Celtic form of The Horse People. I’ve chosen to stick with the name as recorded by Ptolemy, since that’s the common name.

  Whether or not Connall’s people fought naked is still fiercely debated, so I opted for the more visual version. And there is also ample evidence that the Celts had a system of wooden roads long before the Romans came along, so I felt justified inserting them in this context. And if anyone’s visited Dunadd, they might be puzzled by the water I have lapping against their fort, but evidence shows that there was indeed water there at the time this story takes place.

  There are several theories as to the origin of the Scottish Gaelic-speaking peoples of Scotland, with some saying the Irish immigrated to that region later to form the kingdom of Dál Riata and then spread to push out the Picts. More recently, Dr. Ewan Campbell and other scholars have argued that the people living there were indigenous, and due to their remoteness from the other tribes in that region, their language didn’t develop into P-Celtic like those east and south of them. I’ve sided with this more recent scholarship for this story and made the culture and language that of the early Scottish Gaels, even though there is other recent scholarship that disputes it.

  And Connall’s father’s name is a liberty I’m taking with the origins of Clan MacEacharn, which is typically associated with the region south of Dunadd, though still in the area said to be occupied by the Epidii. And since Eacharn means Horse Lord, well, it just fit too perfectly for me not to use it.

  This brings me to the final historical character – Emperor Norton. He was a real man who lived in the late 1800s in San Francisco. Look him up on Wikipedia—you won’t be sorry! Of course, he’d have been long dead by Ashley’s time, but I’ve taken the liberty of making him and his supposed two dogs—Bummer and Lazarus—seem immortal, joining a long line of other authors to immortalize and honor them in this way.