Magnus was on her again in a flash; his mouth was on her soft cleavage and his palm against her naked breast. A taut nipple rubbed against his hand and his hot mouth descended upon it, suckling furiously.
Diantha gasped as his hot, wet mouth pulled her nipple into a hard little pellet. He had already managed to wedge himself in between her legs, his big body covering her, and Diantha welcomed it. She lusted after the man as badly as he lusted after her, and everything he was doing to her was new and wonderful and wicked.
She demanded more.
Magnus could feel Diantha writhing beneath him, her nubile body reacting to his touch. Her flesh was delicious and he nursed hungrily at her breasts, but there was such a magic to the moment that he paused in his onslaught, admiring her naked body, the voluptuous lines of her breasts and hips. He’d never been so aroused in his entire life. There was only one thing he wanted now and that was her body, impaled by his, claiming her as his own, as it was always meant to be.
But he was also aware that a man of his considerable size could quite possibly cause her some pain in their first experience together. He’d bedded virgins before, and he suddenly had visions of Diantha crying in pain as he eased into her. That wasn’t something he was willing to chance, for he wanted her to crave his body as much as he craved hers.
He had to show her how marvelous this could be.
It started when his hand moved to the dark curls between her legs. She was quivering, her body instinctively hot for him. Magnus gently insert a finger into her virginal passage and Diantha was so wet that there was no pain or tightness at all. In fact, she groaned softly and brought her knees up, reacting to his touch, opening her legs wide for the primal mating ritual to begin.
Realizing that she was ready for his entry, Magnus could no longer refrain from claiming her. Lifting himself up, Magnus’s lips found Diantha’s mouth once again as he carefully guided his manhood into her tender, virginal walls.
Thrusting gently with his hips, he seated himself halfway on the first thrust and completely on the second. Beneath him, Diantha gasped softly at the sensation of his enormous member inside her, but was so distracted by his sweet kisses and the feel of his body that all she could do was encourage him. It was the most natural of things, his body buried deeply within her as it was always meant to be.
Diantha was so highly aroused by Magnus’s touch that by the third or fourth thrust, she cried out at the thrill of a climax. Magnus could feel her wet heat throbbing around him, milking him for his seed, and it was a struggle not to answer.
He would, but not now.
At the moment, he simply wanted to savor their first coupling.
It was more than he had ever dreamed of, her heated, wet body responding to his as he’d never known a woman to respond in his entire life. He wanted to experience her, just a little, before succumbing to the inevitable.
His thrusts were measured and deep as he held Diantha’s pelvis against his, his mouth on her lips. As he continued making love to her, he could feel another climax wash over her and still another. Diantha was gasping beneath him as if she couldn’t breathe, her body stiffening as wave after wave of rapture coursed through her.
Finally, Magnus allowed himself to climax, filling her womb with his hot seed. Even after he released himself, he continued to grind his pelvis against hers and felt her ripple with climaxes. He’d lost count after the first few. His hands and mouth were all over her flesh, her breasts and shoulders, and anything else he could manage to touch.
As he lay on top of her, still joined to her body, he knew that this had been the most miraculous experience of his life. He’d had women before. But until now, he’d never really understood what it was like to experience the act as it was meant to be. Before, it was simply about satisfying an urge.
But now…now, it was about expressing love.
Nothing he had ever sampled had ever come close.
“I love ye, Sweet Bee,” he whispered. “Ye’re my everything, sweetheart. Never forget that.”
Exhausted and overwhelmed, Diantha opened her mouth to reply but ended up dissolving into tears. Concerned, Magnus lifted his head to look at her, but she covered her face with her hands. Worried, he held her close.
“What is wrong?” he whispered. “Did I hurt ye?”
She wept softly, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer. “Nay,” she said, kissing his chin. “You did not hurt me. Not at all. I just never knew this would be so beautiful. You are everything to me, too, Magnus. You always will be.”
Her words filled him. Such simple words, but of tremendous impact. It was a moment he wanted to live in forever, a world where he was loved and wanted. A world away from the halls of Culroy and the Fields of Mars.
This was his world, with Diantha, and he would never leave it.
They slept.
Chapter Twenty
“They departed and I saw them head down the hill, but they’ll be back. I can feel it.”
Clegg was standing with Axel at the gatehouse of Caelian Hill, listening to the man’s report as the sun began to rise in the east. The clouds from the night’s storm had rolled out, leaving a pastel sky and a glorious landscape.
A new day was coming.
So was a new challenge.
“We have had times when guests and patrons have become a nuisance,” Clegg said. “But I agree with you, Axel. Ayr and his son will return. At first, I felt it for Magnus, but now I feel it for Diantha. I told Magnus to marry the woman and he did.”
“Just now?”
“Just now,” Clegg confirmed. “He has asked to be moved south with his new wife, and I have decided to move him to the Tri at Berwick, as far away as possible from Ambrose Stewart and his appalling son.”
Axel nodded. “I will prepare an escort if that is your wish,” he said. “But I would suggest we move them out quickly.”
Clegg nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “This morning, in fact. But until they are clear of the Cal, it is my sense that they must be protected. Axel, I want you to tell Lor and Bane what we are doing. Have them create a group of elite warriors willing to protect Magnus and Diantha while they remain here and until we can move them out of Scotland. I suspect Ayr is only after Diantha at this point, and if he is able to get his hands on her, we will lose Magnus. And I do not want to lose him, because where he goes, his friends will go, and we will have a mess on our hands.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“You would go with him, too, would you not?”
The corners of Axel’s mouth twitched. “I greatly respect the Eagle. He is as fine a warrior as I have ever known.”
“That was not the question. He is also your friend, and you would follow him were he to leave here to reclaim his wife.”
“I would go.”
Clegg chuckled. “I knew this,” he said. “You are too sentimental for your own good, my friend. But everyone likes Magnus and Diantha and a great many men would rush to Magnus’s side, so we must make sure this does not happen.”
“Agreed, my lord.”
“Rouse our elite. Keep them in and around the village because that is where I feel the Stewarts will go. And Axel?”
“My lord?”
“Do not let Magnus know. Tell the men to stay out of sight. I do not want Magnus to know that we are watching out for him because it might injure his pride.”
Axel cocked his head. “Why would he think that? He knows we will fight for him.”
Clegg smiled humorlessly. “He knows, but a man does not want to realize he needs others to protect his wife in moments like these. Leave his pride intact. Move to help him only if it is absolutely necessary.”
As Axel headed off to do his bidding, Clegg retreated into the keep of Caelian Hill, but it was not to sleep or eat. He, too, was determined to help Magnus and Diantha until the storm
passed, even more than he already had, so he went into a seldomly used chamber where he kept things of value to him.
The chamber was sparsely furnished, an oilcloth over the single window in the chamber having been in place for a good many years. In fact, Clegg couldn’t remember the last time he’d come to this chamber. The latch on the wardrobe door was nearly rusted into one position, and he had to fight to open it. But once it opened, it revealed exactly what he had come for.
His old armor.
This was the stuff he’d worn when he’d made a name for himself as the best mercenary money could buy, long ago. It was exquisitely crafted armor, and even as he fingered it, he could see that it had barely aged since the last time he’d worn it. It was a little dusty, perhaps even a little rusty, but it was still functional. And then he saw the tool of his trade from those years ago.
His sword.
Clegg could see his sword at the bottom of the wardrobe, a magnificent piece of equipment that had been forged in Toledo by the finest Castilian swordsmith. He hadn’t seen it in a long while but when he picked it up, he couldn’t remember it ever being out of his hand.
Et Victor.
That was what he had named it—The Conqueror.
It seemed that Et Victor was being called forth one last time.
Clegg was ready.
Part Four
AN INOPINATUM FINIS
(AN UNEXPECTED ENDING)
Chapter Twenty-One
Standing outside his cottage, Magnus had an unobstructed view of the sunrise in all its magnificence. Everything seemed brighter this morning, smelled headier, a world that was beautiful and new. Even the birds in the trees had his attention, something he wouldn’t have normally noticed.
But this morning, he was noticing everything.
The beauty of life.
It had everything to do with the magnificent woman in the cottage behind him. Diantha was packing for their journey while Magnus had gone to see Lor and Bane, but both of them were missing. Isabail didn’t know where her husband had gone and neither did Lucia, so Magnus found himself looking over the warriors’ village and to the arena beyond, wondering where they could have gone. He didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, but he also didn’t want to leave Diantha alone.
It seemed strange that his friends should be gone so early in the morning. He knew there wasn’t any training going on at this hour. In the warriors’ village below, he kept an eye out for Tay or Aurelius, watching the few men that were stirring at this hour, but he did not see them. Given that they had not gone to bed until just before sunrise, he could not imagine they were up at this hour.
But then again, he couldn’t imagine Lor or Bane up, either.
It was all a strange mystery.
He could have gone back inside to help Diantha, but he didn’t feel comfortable doing that. He could feel the same tension this morning that he felt last night, wondering if Ambrose and Conan had left the Ludus Caledonia for good. Until he received confirmation that they had left, he was on his guard. That meant that he was going to patrol around the cottage to protect the precious cargo inside.
His wife.
A smile spread across his lips as he realized that, as of a couple of hours ago, he had a wife. That was never anything he’d ever imagined for himself. It was a strange realization, but it was also a wonderful one. It was surprising how he felt complete this morning, as if an unknown missing piece inside of him had been found.
Diantha was that piece he had been missing all along and never knew it.
Magnus thought back on all of the women he had toyed with over the years, of all of the females he had admitted to his bed. There had been times when he’d had more than one woman a night. On some nights, if he was feeling particularly randy, there had been a constant stream of women in and out of his bed, two or three at a time to satisfy his voracious appetite.
But it occurred to Magnus that even with all of those women, he had always felt empty the next day. He had always felt just as lonely as he ever had, and he realized in hindsight that all of those women represented something he could never satisfy—the missing piece that only one woman, the right woman, had filled so easily.
He wasn’t alone any longer.
That was perhaps the most joyous realization of all.
With a sword in hand, one he kept in his cottage for self-protection, he wandered circles around his cabin, hearing Diantha speaking sweetly to her little bee, who had died while they had been sleeping. The bee, which had meant so much to her, had died on the day of her marriage and there was something poignant about that. It had filled a need in Diantha, too, as she’d mentioned, but with the advent of Magnus, the need had been filled. The little bee had done his duty and now his time was over.
But they’d always remember that little bee.
There was a line of trees a few feet away from his cottage and then a clearing after that which was sometimes used as a traveling path from the village up to the community garden and the kitchens. Magnus was over in the clearing, watching the warriors’ village come alive as the morning deepened, when he heard something behind him.
Whirling around, sword leveled, he came face-to-face with a man he’d never seen before.
It was an older man, about his height, whose wet, dark hair had a good deal of gray in it. He was well built and healthy, and from what Magnus could see, he didn’t have any weapons on him.
Magnus frowned.
“Who are ye?” he demanded. “I’ve not seen ye here before.”
The man’s behavior seemed timid, uncertain. “I’ve not been here before,” he said. “My first visit tae the Ludus Caledonia was last night.”
Magnus didn’t think the man was much of a threat, so he lowered his sword. “What are ye doing near the village?” he asked. “’Tis forbidden tae visitors.”
The man nodded with resignation. “I thought so,” he said. “But I had tae come. I am looking for my son.”
Magnus frowned. “If yer son ran off, then ye should tell the sentries. I canna help ye.”
The man didn’t say anything for a moment. He kept his gaze fixed on Magnus. “Ye’re the man they call the Eagle?” he asked.
Magnus scratched his head, growing bored with the conversation and a patron who had evidently not left when he was supposed to.
“If ye saw me fight last night, then ye know I am.”
The man nodded. “I did,” he said. “Ye were magnificent.”
“I know.”
The man grinned, amused with the reply. No thanks, no gratitude. Simply I know. “I heard that yer name is Magnus Stewart,” he said.
“It is.”
“My name is Hugh Stewart. Ye’re the son I am looking for.”
It took Magnus a moment to realize what the man said. He was so busy being bored with the conversation and thinking on Diantha in the cottage a few feet away that several seconds ticked by before the statement registered. Then he looked at the man sharply, his entire face contorted with shock and disbelief.
“Ye’re who?” he gasped. “Hugh Stewart?”
Hugh put up his hands because he could see that Magnus was about to erupt. “I am, and if ye’ll give me a moment, I’ll tell ye why I’ve come,” he said quickly. “Agnes came tae see me, Magnus. Lady Ayr came all the way tae Blackridge House tae see me and tell me that Ambrose has been lying tae ye all of these years. Magnus, no matter what the man has told ye, I dunna hate ye. I’ve not disowned ye. It’s been Ambrose trying tae keep us separated for his own selfish gain. Agnes told me all of it.”
He was blurting out the words so quickly that it was difficult to understand him, and Magnus was quivering so that he could hardly breathe. He heard the man’s words, trying to absorb them, but fifteen years of being told the opposite blocked out nearly everything he was hearing.
“Nay,” he
finally said weakly. “Nay, ’tis not true. Ye canna be my father.”
“I am, I swear it.”
“My father is the Duke of Kintyre and Lorne.”
Hugh put his hands on his chest. “I am the Duke of Kintyre and Lorne,” he said. Then he pulled out a dagger he had with his crest on the handle. It was a fabulous piece, well crafted, and he tossed it to the ground at Magnus’s feet. “See for yerself. Look, Magnus.”
Magnus wanted to walk away. He really did. But it was out of disbelief and agony: disbelief that the man was who he said he was and agony if it was all true. Everything in his body was telling him to walk away.
But his heart was telling him to stay.
With his gaze on the man, he bent over to pick up the dagger, taking a brief moment to inspect it. The hilt had a gorgeous crest carved into it, inlaid with gold and the family motto.
Si rex vult.
If the king wills it.
The ground started rocking unsteadily. Magnus stared at the crest and the motto, knowing that was indeed the motto of the Duke of Kintyre and Lorne. He’d known that from his childhood. After a moment, he looked at the man standing a few feet away.
“Ye’re truly Hugh?” he asked.
Hugh nodded. “I swear tae ye on my father’s grave,” he said with quiet sincerity. “I am Hugh and ye are my son. I swear by all that is holy.”
Magnus was calming down, but only marginally. The disbelief was fading in lieu of monumental confusion. He just stood there with the dagger in one hand and his sword in the other, trying to process everything Hugh had said to him.
“I canna believe it’s ye,” he finally said. “I always imagined the things I’d say tae ye if I ever saw ye, but now…now, I canna remember anything.”
Hugh understood. “And I always thought that I’d tell ye I loved ye even if ye dinna want tae hear it,” he said. “I never thought my first words tae ye would be of Ambrose.”
Highland Legend Page 24
