Highland Magic (8 page)

Branwenn mimicked his stance and boldly met
the big brute toe-to-toe. She had to cock her head back so far to
see his countenance, her neck cracked. “
Nay!
‘Tis mine.” She
had no idea why she felt the need to provoke him so, but, ‘tis
truth, the man had provoked her first with the arrogant way he’d
called her
‘fey Mai’
. And she was still a bit chafed by his
initial scoffing remark this day past about the lovely name she’d
chosen for herself.

A calculating look came into his devil-green
eyes. He relaxed his stance and crossed his arms over his chest,
the cane dangling from one hand as it rested against his side.
“What recompense might I give you instead of the key?”

Branwenn wasn’t expecting him to give up the
fight so quickly. It unbalanced her. But in the next moment, the
wheels in her mind were turning once more. It didn’t take but
another instant to come up with something so outrageous, so
thoroughly unseemly, so devilishly, deliciously
wrong
, to
tease the man with. And, if he actually met the challenge, ‘twould
round out her sketchy knowledge and answer the questions she’d been
dying to have answered ever since seeing Bao and Jesslyn together
at the waterfall last year.

“You must tell me, leaving naught out, how
you make love to a woman, as well as how it feels to you...and to
her.” Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt her throat close
up.

His voice thundered in clear shock and
disbelief. “Are you insane?”

* * *

Callum couldn’t believe he was giving
Branwenn his secret carnal fancy. Telling this virginal lass—his
cousin’s, make that
behemoth
cousin’s, adored wee foster
sister—the sexual imaginings he’d coveted lo’ these many years. But
he was. And he was so hard now, he ached. But, the words continued
to tumble from his lips as if he were under the spell of the
mystical creature the lass pretended to be.

“And then, when I feel you come—”

“
Come?
” she asked softly, a little out
of breath.

“Convulse with pleasure, feel as if you’re
going to burst into a thousand points of flaming joy,” he explained
and then repeated, “When I feel you come against my mouth, taste
the honeydew that drips from your sex, that prepares you for my
invasion, then, only then, will I cover you with my body and push
myself into you.”

“And how will that feel to me? Will I like
it?”

“Aye. But not at first. Nay, at first you
shall feel the pain of the slender covering of inner skin that
keeps you a virgin being ripped wide by my sex. And your canal will
burn, sting from being stretched wide and forced to take something
larger than itself inside it, from being plowed into and forced to
accommodate me as I move in and out of it.

“But it won’t hurt for long, I give you my
promise. Only a few moments and then, suddenly, it will feel so
good, just as my tongue had felt on it, in it. And before very
long...you shall experience heaven once more. But this time, it
will be so much more intense.”

Branwenn’s breath came harshly now; she heard
the sound of her ragged breath echo in the cave and it shamed her.
She tried to calm herself, tried to force her breathing to a more
natural meter, but could not. “And how will it feel to you? Will it
hurt at first for you as well?”

Callum chuckled. “Nay, it won’t hurt. ‘Twill
feel perfect. Hot, juicy, so narrow it tugs the skin of my manhood.
I’ll have trouble keeping myself from finding release before you
do. But when your new-tried canal’s muscles begin to milk me of my
seed, I’ll fuck”—he couldn’t believe he was using such course
language with her, but something inside him impelled him to it—“you
so hard, the head of my cock will pound against your womb. And by
this time, you’ll be so hot, so ready for release again, it will
feel quite pleasing to you.”

He shook his head and repeated, “Nay, ‘twill
not hurt me. What hurts a man is being as ready as I am right now
and not finding release.”

Branwenn, now past the point of rational
thought, acted purely on instinct and reached out in the darkness
to find his leg.

“What do you?” he asked sharply,
anxiously.

“Sshh” she admonished, moving her hand up to
the junction of his thighs.

“Branwenn,” Callum croaked, but ‘twas too
late, she’d already grasped his manhood in her hand and begun to
stroke him. ‘Twas bigger, harder, than she’d expected. She could
see now why it would hurt her at first to take him inside of her.
The fact that he’d used her name, not that of the fey creature’s,
didn’t dawn on her until much later.

Callum lay back and rested on his elbows, his
head thrown back in ecstasy, without any cognizant thought. The
feel of her tiny hands on his engorged manhood was the sweetest
feeling he’d had in the longest time. Too long. Since...well, since
before the night of his marriage to Lara. “That feels good,” he
ground out. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was not
right, that he would regret this later. But he had neither the
will, nor the strength to stop this madness before ‘twas too
late.

Branwenn needed to touch his skin, feel the
bare weight of him without the thin cloth of his braies in the way.
She rose above him and quickly loosened the ties of the garment
that covered his loins. When he was laid bare to her ministrations,
she continued her manipulation of him; learning him, imagining what
it looked like by the feel of it in her hand. For, he’d not allowed
the taper to remain lit for this frank talk.

His sex was muscular she discovered, and
smooth, the skin hot to the touch. And there was a pouch beneath
it, covered in wiry hair, that she held for a moment in the palm of
her other hand. There were strange orbs that seemed to float inside
it.

Callum moaned and ground his hips. “Stroke
me, up and down, in quick motions. And hold tight,” he ordered, out
of his mind now with the need to find release. “
Suck me,
” he
thought, not realizing he’d said it aloud, until he felt her lips
on him. He jerked so hard, his hips came a foot off the ground.
“Arghh!”

Branwenn smiled, a sense of pure feminine
satisfaction invading her psyche. Now she knew what truly pleased
him. She eased onto her knees between his thighs and took him in
earnest with her mouth, licking and sucking him as she continued to
caress and coddle him in her hands. She was determined to make him
“come,” as he called it.

A slightly salty musk-flavored substance
gently emerged from the rounded head as she stroked upwards and she
realized it must be the “seed” of which he’d just spoken.

Curious. And extremely heady. Was he coming
now? She didn’t think so, for he didn’t seem to be in that final
state of ultimate delight he’d spoken of so baldly before.

All at once, he yelled out as his hips surged
up, jamming his manhood deeper into her mouth. In the next instant,
he violently erupted, the turgid muscles under the skin of his sex
rippling against her tongue. Her eyes teared and she began to choke
on the hot seed he spewed as it hit the back of her throat. She
swallowed convulsively.
That was unexpected
. Afterward, when
he’d settled, his breathing still harsh, but his body as limp as a
damp cloth, she lifted her head and studied him. Gorgeous, pompous,
Callum MacGregor.

Check-mate.

* * *

Callum sighed and opened one eye. Branwenn
had the smile of a very satisfied feline plastered across her
countenance. As well she should. For what she’d lacked in skill, he
thought dazedly, she’d more than made up for in enthusiasm.

“You want me to do it again?” she asked.
Surprisingly, there was eagerness in her voice.

He actually felt his manhood stir in
response. This brought him up short and his sex-fogged brain
instantly cleared. He had to get out of here. In seconds he was on
his feet, sore ankle and bruised shoulder bedamned—besides, after
the pleasuring he’d just received from this mite of a lass, he’d
not be feeling pain for some time to come. “I’ll return later this
morn for the key,” he said, stumbling away from her and re-tying
his braies at the same time. Abashed and horrified at his own lack
of self-restraint, he rushed from the cave chamber, without his
cane and with nary a backward glance.

He was not more than twenty paces down the
passage when he realized that this was not the best course of
action where Branwenn was concerned. He had little doubt that she
would be gone by morn, to who knew where, should he leave her to
her own devices for long, especially after their lurid, erotic
interlude.

He turned and aggressively moved in the
direction he’d just come from. Hell, he’d no doubt find the chamber
empty even now. What a fool he was! First to allow her to talk him
into such a dangerously tempting dialogue and then to allow her
to...to...well, to take him in that way. God! She was such an
innocent! Even with all of his experience with the gentler sex—and
he’d had a lot—he’d yet to meet one with so avid a curiosity and
appetite to bring delight to him. ‘Twas usually the other way
around—and that was fine with him, for, as his erotic imagery he’d
shared with her had shown, ‘twas he who liked to do the
pleasuring.

He’d just stumbled back into the front
chamber when a blow landed with a harsh
‘thwack’
across his
cheek. “Ow! What the hell...?”

“You called me ‘Branwenn’!” his lively,
sharp-tongued tormentor accused loudly.

Callum rubbed his abused cheek and sighed.
Damn. This—
this
was why he was an idiot. “Aye, and you were
in my room—nay, in my
bed
—this morn when I awakened.” He
hoped that tidbit of a memory would startle her enough to give him
time to come up with a way of getting her back to the keep without
using manly force—a thing he was sadly, and shamefully, lacking
ability in at the moment. For, tho’ she was a wee thing, she had
strength, and she’d no doubt claw and bite, kick and wriggle, the
entire time he tried to keep her in his arms, were he to do the
most efficient thing by heaving her over his shoulder and trudging
back through the cave passage to the keep.

Nay, with his unstable walk and his sore
shoulder—he still couldn’t lift his arm very far—he’d drop her for
sure. Or worse, fall on top of her and kill her with his
weight.

“I was bathing your unworthy brow, you
thankless, pompous curdog!” Branwenn said, at last finding her
voice. “And, by the way, you’re
welcome
for the clearly
violently pleasurable ‘release’ I gave you a few minutes ago! And
you forced me to swallow your seed—that can’t be good for me! My
stomach is all
burble
-y now.”

Callum felt his cheeks burn. He’d never met
another lass like this one. Such a bold tongue, but still so young,
so innocent of men. She could get him riled and spitting iron nails
within seconds of being in her presence. How could this be? He
didn’t even recognize himself when he was with her. For, ‘twas a
well-known fact, was it not, that he was the charming one, he was
the affable one,
he
was the one all the ladies wanted to
share company with? “I...
ahem
...I...uhhh...” Through gritted
teeth, he released a very long sigh—and growl—of frustration.
“Damnit, Branwenn, enough. You’re coming back to the keep with me
right now.”

“Nay!” That silky, short-cropped,
black-haired head of hers adamantly shook a negative.

“You can either gather your belongings now or
get them later, I care not which.” He guessed he’d be carrying her
after all. And he
would not
drop her, he told his much
abused body. Christ’s Bones, but the lass was a menace.

* * *

An hour and a half later, just past dawn,
Branwenn sat by the hearth in the solar with her Grandmother
Maclean and Aunt Maggie. Though she was of no true relation to the
two ladies, they’d taken her into their hearts and under their
wings last summer and winter, and had insisted upon her calling
them by those familiar epithets.

“And your brother Reys knows not where you
are?” Lady Maclean asked, her brow furrowed in worry.

Branwenn shrugged. “I know not—I think not.
For, ‘twas only by the grace of God that I managed to stay afloat
long enough to find land.” She dipped her head and studied her
tightly clasped hands, pressed deeply into her lap. “He no doubt
believes me dead—if he knows of the wreck at all.”

Maggie reached over and softly patted
Branwenn’s knee. “There, there, lass. You mustn’t fret so, for we
shall send a missive forthwith to inform him that you are safe and
sound and living here with us.”

Branwenn’s head snapped up. Her eyes as round
as saucers, she quickly shook her head. “Nay, you mustn’t!”

“But, why ever not? Never tell me you wish to
let your poor brother mourn you for one moment longer than is
necessary!” Maggie replied.

Lady Maclean, who had been silently watching
and listening these past moments, interjected, “Maggie, let the
lass get settled first before you hare off and send missives hither
and thither. ‘Twill be no great sin to wait another day or two,
surely.”

“Well...I suppose that is so,” Maggie
replied.

Branwenn relaxed. Thank heaven for
Grandmother Maclean!

Maggie cleared her throat and resettled
herself more comfortably on her stool. Picking up the discarded
piece of embroidery she’d been working on until a few minutes past,
she put another stitch in the cloth before lifting her head and
drilling Branwenn with a penetrating stare as she asked,
“So...’twas you who found my son in the cave this day past? You who
helped him get back to the keep?”

“Aye, tho’ ‘tis truth, he did most of the
work himself. I only got the locks and doors open.”

“And you bathed his brow, forget not.” Maggie
reminded.