Tears streamed down Alayne’s cheeks, her eyes locked on her sister’s face.
Wynda. I should not have left you alone with that barbarian. I did not think…
“I can stop the marriage,” Torella whispered. “I will reinstate your wealth and lands to you. You can be with your sister.” The sorceress circled Alayne. “You can protect her.”
Wynda. May God forgive me.
Wiping the moisture from her cheeks, Alayne inhaled a deep breath. In a low determined voice, she asked, “Where can I find the babe?”
The moonlight shone upon Alayne while she lay on the hard altar. Her gaze lingered on the brightest stars, absorbing their simplistic detail. She missed watching the stars. They were so beautiful, enchanting.
The waters of the Loch Ness gently lapped at the shore and a cool breeze skimmed along her bare skin. The hood of her green cloak covered her head, but the rest of the thick garment fell open, covering the stone slab beneath, but revealing all of her nakedness.
Blocking the moon, Torella leaned over her and smiled, the whiteness of her teeth contrasted against the shadow of her face.
“Drink this potion.” She held a vial to Alayne’s lips. A sharp, salty aroma wafted from the bottle.
“What is it?”
“It will ensure the seduction of Laird Callum.”
Alayne opened her mouth and drank the vile potion. It tasted like watery dirt, as if it came from the loch itself. The liquid burned her throat and settled in her stomach.
Instantly, unusual warmth spread throughout her body.
Torella rubbed her hand across Alayne’s breasts and her nipples hardened against her will. The wicked heat of sorceress’ hand magically aroused her, causing her limbs to ignite with fervor. Her heart pounded in her ears and her pulse raced. The ache between her legs grew until she was in pain, the muscles inside pulsating with urgency.
Withering on the altar she panted, “What was in the potion?”
Torella laughed. She waved her hand over Alayne’s eyes and her sight gradually faded. She was blind once more.
“Enjoy the moment.” The sorceress disappeared into shadows, leaving Alayne crazed with an uncontrollable sexual appetite. If she was frustrated before, she was in utter agony now.
She needed a man.
Forthwith!
The full moon bounced off the Loch’s dark waters. Callum rode his sable warhorse while Evan rode a highland pony. The rolling hills next to the loch were uncharacteristically silent. No night owls, a lone wolf’s call, or even a splash from a fish interrupted the night.
“How much further?” Callum asked.
“Beyond the next bend.”
“If the sorceress is not there…”
“She will be there.”
Callum grunted and urged his mount into a faster pace. He did not want the sorceress to escape again. He only hoped his father was still alive. When no ransom post came for the chieftain, Callum worried the sorceress was using him for her perverse pleasure. There was only one way to find him and that was through the sorceress. He would force her to release his father, or die trying.
“I believe you made the right choice in not bringing your family,” Evan commented, his smug tone grating on Callum’s thin nerves.
“I do not want to risk their lives. Besides the sorceress might vanish if she sees the Celtic witches. I want to question her first.”
Evan chuckled under his breath.
“What amuses you?” Callum asked.
“It must be difficult being a cleric without any powers.”
“I am not a male witch, I am a Celtic warlock.”
“A warlock with no powers.”
Callum did not reply. The steward had hit a sore point with him. It was difficult to grow up watching his mother and sister use their powers to help the clan while he waited for his to come through. Female Celtic witches received their powers at birth, while the males had to wait until the Gods deemed them worthy. He was happy for his sister to have her powers, but he wished many times that the ancient rules were different. Before his capture, Callum’s father had taken him aside and told him he would make a great chieftain one day—with or without powers.
However, since taking over his father’s duties, he did not feel like a great chieftain.
“We are here, my laird.”
Callum scanned the open glen. In the distance, near the water’s edge, a naked woman lay upon a raised altar, her skin glowing in the moonlight. She seemed to be squirming, as if ants crawled over her body.
Callum searched the area once more, expecting an army to attack. The glen was eerily silent. With little breeze, the long grass remained motionless, the shadowy trees were desolate as if waiting for something or someone.
His attention shifted back to the altar. “That must be the maiden to be sacrificed.”
“The sorceress will not be far.”
“Stay near, Master Evan.”
Callum slowly walked his mount closer to the woman, his senses alert. The nearer he got, the more his aroused body responded to the sight of her pert breasts and dark thatch of hair between her thighs. He cleared his voice and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.
“Who is there?” the lass’ lilting voice called.
Callum dismounted, Evan did the same and they stood on either side of the altar.
“Where is the sorceress?” Callum asked, trying hard to keep his tone level without desire lacing his words.
“I do not know,” the maiden panted and touched her breasts. “Please help me.”
“Tell me where the sorceress is.” Why was she touching herself? It was bad enough that hot blood pumped through his body, straining his member against his breeches.
Evan ran his hand over her eyes and they did not flinch. “She is blind.”
“Please help me. I need … I need to be taken. Please.”
“What sort of trickery is this?” Callum asked, his voice rising. He could not help but study every curve of the maiden’s perfect body. She arched her back with a moan. Gods wounds, she was breathtaking. The intoxicating scent of her arousal reached him and it took all his will not to climb on top of the lass and give her what she wanted most.
“It appears she has been drugged,” Evan concluded.
“With what?” If only he could push down his raging desires along with his hardened member. He had to think.
“Mallow, caraway, cloves—how should I know what the sorceress used? I only know this woman is in pain and until a man plows into her sweet little hole, her body will drive her mad.”
Evan gathered his kilt in his hands, his member lunging forward. He went to lift his leg onto the altar.
“What are you doing?” Callum asked.
“I am helping the lass out.”
“You are not.” Callum pushed him aside. “Sit your rump over there and do not move.”
Callum held her hand. It was warm and shaking. Her skin glistened with perspiration. “Mistress, I will take you to a healer…”
“Nae, I need you now!” She grabbed his hand and pushed it between her legs.
Women had offered themselves to him before, but none so aggressively. She rubbed his fingers up and down her slick heat and then roughly pushed two of his fingers inside her hot crevice. They slid in easily, the muscles inside engulfed his fingers, cradling them with sensual yearning.
This was not right. Where was his sense of honor?
His fingers moved in and out, his thumb gliding over her slippery nub. If he had any chivalry, he would seek a healer for her instead of enjoying the feel of her enthralling body. Callum rolled his eyes and groaned. Would it be too bold to taste her essence on his fingers?
He should be looking for the sorceress, he should … dear Gods, her breasts were faultless, her nipples so hard. He had never felt so erect in all his life. She may have been drugged, but he felt the effects as if he took the poison himself.
“Please … I need you,” Alayne heard herself plead. She did
not care if she seemed wicked or indecent. She had no pride left. Her skin was on fire and the stranger’s fingers felt wondrous inside, yet it was not enough. She needed his shaft, she needed to be taken and taken hard. Her body screamed from within.
Hurry! She yelled inside her mind, willing him to mount her.
All of a sudden, she felt a hard chest on top of her. One leg parted her thighs, then another.
Aye, finally.
She lifted her legs higher and cradled the stranger’s hips, opening herself to him.
His body lowered on top of hers and he gradually eased into her, filling her completely. She gasped with ecstasy. Nothing had ever felt so incredibly pleasurable. He moved in and out of her with deliberate strokes. His labored breath mingled with hers, the rough linen of his tunic rubbed against her swollen nipples. She needed more of him.
“Faster,” she said, breathlessly.
“Harder?”
“Aye, harder.”
Increasing his rhythm, his great cock pulsated in and out of her. She screamed all of her pent up frustrations into the cool night air as her body finally found its release. Again and again, waves of pleasure swept over her. She grabbed his buttocks and shoved him harder inside her.
His low growl rippled against her ears and he jerked inside her, spilling his seed, filling her with warmth and contentment.
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Chapter Four
Callum swung his leg over the side and pushed himself off the lass. The muscles in his legs were weak and languid. If there was space on the altar he would have pulled the woman into his arms and cradled her head against his chest. Although he did not feel her maidenhead break, he was sure she was a virgin. After all, Master Evan did say the sorceress sacrificed only maidens. He wished he were not the one to take her. It should have been her husband.
He watched her breasts rise and fall with last effects of heavy breathing. He reached out to swipe moist hair off her brow when he heard a horse neigh in the distance.
Jerking his head up, he watched his horse and Evan ride away with the other pony, leaving them stranded. “Curse that mon!”
Damning his own foolishness, he found his tan breeches and pulled them on along with his black boots. After strapping his sword to his hips, he straightened and found the beautiful lass sitting upright, the emerald cloak covered her shoulders. Her white knuckles modestly clasped the folds at her chest.
Staring straight ahead, her shadowed eyes were unfocused. Her face held no emotion, no remorse, just emptiness.
“Are you well?” he asked and went to touch her shoulder but then withdrew his hand. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and then tears tumbled down her cheeks. He felt like the worst barbarian—having taken the lass so quickly without even a kiss.
And now Evan had escaped. His only chance at finding his father and he had acted like a love-sick youth. Untried and just as uncouth.
“Fool!” he swore under his breath, and the lass flinched.
“I agree,” a smooth, feminine voice purred from behind him. “You are a fool.”
Callum swung around to find a stunning dark-haired woman standing nearby. She wore a flowing ruby gown. Her breasts nearly spilled over the glittering garment, the neckline diving in a v-shape to her navel.
“Lady Torella, I presume,” Callum said in a calm tone, his hand slowly edging toward the sword strapped at his side. “Finally I get to see the real face of my betrothed’s murderer.”
The sorceress smiled. “You should be thanking me. That little lady would not have given you the pleasure I did.”
Fury seethed beneath his calm exterior. “You speak of pleasure? This lass gave me more pleasure than you did in all the time we were married.”
Lady Torella’s green eyes flicked to the altar. “You dare spoil the maiden for my sacrifice?”
Callum pulled his sword and stood between the women. “There will be no sacrifice, milady, unless it is you who dies.”
The sorceress laughed.
“What happened to my father?”
Her laughter ended. “He still lives and is somewhere you will never find him,” she taunted.
“Tell me or I will kill you.”
She laughed again, mocking him.
Callum lunged at her, his sword slicing into her arm. The sorceress looked down at the cut. No blood oozed from the wound; instead the cut slowly closed up, healing itself into a faint scar.
“You are a fool,” the sorceress said. “Your sister’s enchanted blood is inside me, making me immortal. Your feeble sword cannot kill me.” She walked closer to him. “Now, give me the maiden.”
“Nae!” Callum stumbled backward, blocking the lass from the sorceress. He lifted his sword higher and felt a shaky warm hand lay on his back. He did not have to look at the lass to know she was afraid. His grip on the sword tightened.
“You may be immortal milady, but my blade can scar your pretty face.”
The sorceress huffed and touched her cheek. Her eyes narrowed. “I will return for her. You cannot protect her forever.”
Within a blink, the sorceress vanished, leaving the scent of her heavy jasmine perfume behind.
Callum turned. Sitting on the altar, the lass’ unfocused gaze lowered and she seemed to shrink further into her cloak. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, but felt awkward. He had taken her precious virginal gift and he could not even embrace the young beauty. What was wrong with him?
He cleared his throat. “Can I escort you home?”
She shook her head. Her voice cracked, “I have no home.”
“Do you have clan I can take you too?”
“Nae, I have no one.”
Callum’s heart dropped. What was he going to do? He could not search for his father with a blind girl accompanying him.
“Come,” he said and took her hand. “Urquhart Castle is north from here and is well guarded. We can find you clothes and a meal. Perhaps even a position if Laird John Grant is affable.”
She shook her head. “I canna…”
“Please, we must make haste. I wish to return before I lose my prisoner’s tracks.”
The lass did not move. Why was she being stubborn? He was offering a place of refuge. Most peasants would be pleased to find a position within Urquhart Castle.
Finally, she nodded and rose.
Callum released his breath and placed his hand in the crook of her arm. The cloak fell to the side, revealing a pert breast and Callum’s breeches tightened. If they were to walk for two leagues, he had best look away.
The sight of her caused his heart to race. Was it not only moments ago he found his zenith? Yet his body ached to be inside the beautiful lass again.
“Ah … what be your name?” he asked, shifting his uncomfortable erection.
“Alayne Duncan.”
“You are from Clan Duncan?”
“Nae.” She fidgeted with her hands. “I said Alayne from the Dunn clan.”
Nervously, she grabbed the edges of her cloak closed, but still her breast peaked out of the folds. He silently groaned and shifted his focus away.
“I have not heard of the Dunn Clan.”
“‘Twas small, and now there is only me,” she said with a low voice and pulled the hood over her hair, covering her face in shadows.
“I do not suppose the sorceress took you to her abode before bringing you to the loch?” he asked, leading her to a worn path along the water’s edge.
“Nae,” she whispered and tugged at her cloak again.
He dropped his hand from her smooth arm and the cloak covered her body completely. “If I am to lead you, I need to touch you somewhere.”
“You may place your hand around my waist,” she offered.
Leaning closer, he snaked his arm around her back and rested his hand on the curve of her waist. He was a head taller than she, but his arm rested comfortably
across her back, allowing the warmth of her body to seep into his. Her hair smelled of roses and he had to resist the urge to nuzzle her neck to see if her personal scent was just as intoxicating.
“Tell me about yourself,” she asked in a small voice. “I do not even know your … your name.”
“I am Laird Callum, Chief to the Roberts clan. At least until my father returns.”
“Has … has the sorceress imprisoned him?”
“Aye.” Guilt for failing his father ate at his stomach. The only person who knew the sorceress’ whereabouts had escaped.
“Do you have any other family?” she asked and then stumbled.
Callum helped her to regain her balance. “I have a sister. She is younger than I, but has recently been married and had a wee bonny lass, Rhiannon.”
Alayne tensed, her back straightened against his arm. “What is the name of her husband?”
“Laird Tremayne Campbell. Why? Do you know of—?”
“Nae!”
Callum watched her nervously moisten her lips. He had a sense she was not telling him something.
“Ow!” Alayne stood on something sharp and limped while holding her bare foot. If she had known Torella was going to whisk her immediately to the glen, she would have demanded at least slippers for her feet.
“Are you well?” the chieftain asked, his tone filled with concern.
“Aye, I think I have stepped on a prickle.”
“Let me see.”
Alayne jolted at the feel of a large, warm hand as it smoothed down her calf until it cradled her foot. She tried to keep her balance, but the tender sensation of his touch was enough to unbalance any lass. She must still have the effects of the potion in her body. That must be it. Surely after the incredible but brief passion they shared, her body would be sated.
“There, the prickle is gone.”
His rich timbered voice melted her insides. For all she knew, he could be the ugliest man alive, but after their intimacy, his chivalry and compassion for her foot, her heart nearly pounded out of her chest.
Heart of a Warlock [Celtic Series Book 3] Page 3
