Highland Magic (35 page)

She nodded. “Al...All right”

Callum didn’t give her time to change her
mind. With determination and perfect aim, he positioned himself
between her thighs and dipped his head to feast upon the feminine
banquet laid out before him.

He nearly grew intoxicated on the scent of
her alone. ‘Twas the headiest mix of sex dew he’d ever encountered.
A perfume of rose-tinged musk and that elusive, incomparable scent
that belonged only to Branwenn.

First he teased her labia lips with his
tongue, now tasting the moist residue of her earlier release.

Branwenn jolted, her hips rising slightly off
the bed.

Callum rested his hands over the sharp blades
of her pelvic bones and gently pressed down, in a silent demand to
stay still.

He brought his hands down between her thighs
and, using his fingers and thumbs, opened her outer lips before
continuing his tongue’s exploration of the lovely red scalloped
shell of her inner lips. With light, quick strokes, he avidly
tasted—every once in a while dipping his tongue into that
deliciously moist and cushiony canal that so perfectly cradled and
worked his own sex.

Finally, unable to keep himself from it
another moment, he plunged his tongue deep inside her, craving to
feel those same muscles tug his tongue. Her sheath clenched in
reaction and he almost came right then and there. He made a swift
retreat, rumbling into her womb, “You taste so, so good.”

“Oh, God! What are you doing to me?” Branwenn
cried out, her entire being aflame with the need for release once
more. Whatever it was, was keeping her just on the edge of orgasm,
making her so desperate for it, she was going mad. She was trying
to keep still, as he wanted, but she needed to move, needed to feel
his mouth on her where his finger had been earlier. “Please!”

Callum understood. With slow, light strokes
he began his journey up to the apex of her sex. When her hips began
to move beneath him, he pressed down on her thighs with his
forearms, his fingers still spreading her labia lips wide for his
onslaught.

When he at last made it to the peak, he
stroked and rubbed the tight, turgid little nubbin until her whole
body was atremble and her arms and head were thrashing against the
bed. Suddenly, sex dew gushed from her canal. Needing to feel her
convulse, he sent two fingers into her and began a quick in-and-out
motion with them as his tongue continued its rapid lapping.

“Callum!” Branwenn arched her back, her hips
rising high off the bed as she tumbled into the intensely
gratifying abyss of sexual release.

When Branwenn was just past the crest, Callum
suckled the nubbin into his mouth. He continued to send his fingers
inside of her as he did so, and in the next second, his efforts
were rewarded when Branwenn groaned and splintered once again.

Callum hurriedly pulled off his braies and,
just as she was settling back, positioned himself on his knees
between her thighs and plunged. High and deep. “Aarrgh!” he yelled,
throwing his head back. With his hands on her hips, and her knees
crooked over his forearms, he lifted her even higher.

She was so slick now, he had little trouble
slipping further inside her. Before he knew it, the head of his sex
was pounding against her womb and she was coming again, her strong
inner muscles tugging him and taking him so close to heaven he
began to see stars behind his lids.

He was sweating and straining now, straining
not to come inside her, but desperate for this pleasure not to end
so soon.

Finally, leaning forward, he placed his hands
near her head and rested his weight on his palms, forcing her legs
to splay over his shoulders.

This caused her to climax again, bringing him
to completion as well. “God’s Bones!” he yelled in a strangled
voice, jerking out of her at the last minute, his seed spewing
instead on her dewy, quivering belly.

He released her legs and collapsed down onto
his forearms, his breathing ragged, the sweat from his brow running
down over his temple and into his eye. He pressed it absently into
his bicep until the sting went away. When he’d recovered enough to
speak, he said against Branwenn’s ear, “Worry not, I brought cloths
this time—and there is an urn of water I left here earlier for us
to wash with.”

Branwenn was so completely dazed from the
number of climaxes he’d given her that it took her a very long
minute to comprehend his words. When she did, at last, ken them,
she replied lazily, “Good.”

Callum chuckled and rolled off of her. Tho’
he was still a bit weak from the pleasurable exercise and release
he’d just experienced, he knew she must be far, far weaker than he.
So, he set about obtaining the cloth and the urn so that he might
give her the bath she deserved after the delightful experience he’d
just had between her thighs. Lord, he could taste her still, and
‘twas a flavor he’d never grow tired of. What a treasure he had in
her. He did not take it for granted.

Tho’ Branwenn could hear the rustling sounds
of Callum’s movements around the cavern chamber, she had not the
strength, nor the will, to open her eyes to see what he was about.
‘Twas not until she felt the cool, damp cloth on her belly that her
eyes flew open and her head jerked up. “‘Tis cold!” she
scolded.

But Callum’s hand had
stilled and his eyes, she saw, were at last settled upon that
horrible, horrid, disgusting, revolting,
thing
on her thigh. “Oh, God!” she
said as her hand flew to cover the offending mark.

Callum stopped her movement by taking hold of
her wrist and bringing her hand back down to her side. “Nay, love,
hide it not from me, for ‘tis lovely.” He reached out and traced
the rather large patch with his finger. Some of it was a bit
obscured by the black curls of her labia lips as the design came up
into the soft flesh where her inner thigh joined her torso. “‘Tis
the shape and color of a raspberry. Which reminds me”—he looked at
her and grinned—“quite pleasantly, of that day in the stairwell.
Remember?”

Branwenn felt her cheeks flush with heat.
“Aye.”

“You tasted of them and, I must say, ‘twas
quite arousing. I wonder...” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to
the mark before tasting it with his tongue. “Mmm. Rosy.” He turned
his head and looked at her. “Just as are you.”

“Do you not find it ugly? Even a bit?”

Callum smiled and shook his head. “Nay, not
even a wee bit. Not even by one tittle, in fact.” He sat up and
absently tossed the damp rag to the floor next to them before
resettling on his side facing her. He lightly slung his arm over
her waist and moved her closer into him. “What a shame that all
that kept me from seeing this beautiful body of yours all these
sennights was that sweet, wee raspberry mark on your pale, white
thigh. In truth, it only makes me want you more.” He leaned down
and gave her a quick, gentle kiss on her lips before saying, “Why
ever did you think it so unsightly that I would not want you after
gazing upon it?”

Branwenn turned her head away. Shrugging, she
said, “My old nurse—she said ‘twas the mark of the devil. ‘Twas
hideous and foul and I’d best not let my husband e’er see it, else
he’d n’er put a babe in my belly.”

Callum growled. “What a...” he bit his tongue
to keep from saying aloud the base epithet he had for such a one as
she. He took hold of Branwenn’s chin and gently tugged until she at
last turned her countenance to him. Looking into her eyes he said,
“‘Tis no devil’s mark you hold, Branwenn. If anything, ‘tis the
mark of a heavenly cherub, deeming you one of their own. But they
cannot have you, for you are mine.”

“Caa-lum.” Her eyes misted a bit at his sweet
words.

He leaned down and nuzzled her ear, lightly
kissing its fleshy lobe before continuing, “And I swear this to
you: I will put as many babes in your belly as you will allow,
after this trial is done. For I’ll have no other as the mother of
my bairns, whether they be of my loins or otherwise. Who else,
besides the nurse, knows of the mark?”

Branwenn shrugged. “Only Bao. He raised me,
as you recall. And I want no others to ever know of it!”

Callum raised up and
touched his finger to the corner of her eye, moistening the tip of
the digit with a stray tear that hung suspended on one of her lower
lashes. “Nay, love, ‘tis beautiful. In fact, I pray that
all
our future bairns
carry that same mark upon them.”

Branwenn brought her arms around his neck and
hauled him down on top of her as she attacked his mouth with her
own in the most joyous, ravenous kiss she’d ever bestowed upon him.
She ignored the twinge of guilt and the voice in her head which
chided her to tell him now that he’d already put a babe in her. For
she was still set on not risking his life even further by giving
him such tidings that could muddle his thoughts during the
joust.

Long minutes later, both out of breath, but
grinning like two madmen, they collapsed onto their backs and
stared up at the ceiling of the cave.

A vagrant thought flashed into Branwenn’s
mind and caught, circling and whirling about until finally she sat
up. “Callum! The apple skin. Godamercy!” She looked down at him.
“‘Twas a ‘G’!”

Callum chuckled and rolled slightly onto his
side. He lifted his hand and lightly touched her chin with his
fingertips. “Nay, ‘twas a ‘C’—you were quite adamant on that score,
as I recall.”

“And you were just as set that ‘twas a ‘G’
the peel had made.”

“Well, even if ‘twas, you cannot truly
believe that such a thing could foretell whom you will wed. Have
you forgot? You wedded me just this afternoon on the steps of the
chapel.”

Branwenn worried her bottom lip with her
teeth. “Aye, but if he kills you....”

“Then Bao, Daniel, and Reys will fight the
man. No matter what happens, you will not be Gaiallard de
Montfort’s bride.” He sighed loudly. “What is it in you that will
not believe me when I tell you this? Have I not said similar words
to you before? And yet, the doubts keep rising in your mind.” He
squeezed her chin between his fingers and thumb and jiggled her
head slightly, “Will you let those doubts fly? For, I vow, you
worry needlessly.”

She rolled to her side,
turning her back to him, and bringing her knees up close to her
chest. “This is what I feared—one of the reasons I would not agree
to wed you. All of you will risk your lives for me—for ME! I cannot
abide it; I truly cannot. Not again.” But what could she do? She
carried Callum’s babe, and she would never,
never
allow that vile Norman within
miles of the young one. Should she flee? Nay, for the challenge had
already been given, the trial set. But after. After. If Callum was
killed. Then she would flee. Flee so far, so quickly, and with much
greater stealth than she’d used prior, that none would ever find
her. Mayhap, she should go north, to
Northvegia
. ‘Twas not as far in
miles as she wanted to go, but ‘twas far in custom, and as far from
what Gaiallard would consider civilized as she could get. He’d
never look for her there.

Callum curled on his side behind her and,
wrapping his arm tightly around her, he rested his chin in the
curve of her shoulder, then brought his knees up behind her own.
“Branwenn, I pray you, do not fret so. For there are none among
your champions who would think twice about doing what is necessary
to keep you safe.”

“Aye, but what of their wives? Their
bairns?”

Callum was silent for long seconds. “Even
they, I believe, would do all they could to see you safe from the
Norman’s clutches.”

* * *

They’d made love twice more between intervals
of dozing sleep, but when they’d stood together just outside the
entrance of the cave and seen the sun’s pink and orange rays barely
visibly emerging from below the horizon, they’d known ‘twas time
for them to part. And when they’d said what might be their final
farewell—tho’ neither had dared utter such aloud—they’d held tight
to one another, neither wanting to be the first to break the
embrace.

And to Branwenn, ‘twas an added blessing that
the illness that had been overtaking her these past morns had not
occurred on this one.

Callum had urged her to exit first, and when
she had, ‘twas as if a vital part of her being were being ripped
from her body. She’d cried her heart out the entire journey back to
her chamber.

And now she stood at the
window in the solar, nibbling at her thumbnail, blindly looking out
toward the garden in the north bailey. ‘Twas naught she could do
about Callum’s challenge on the morrow, but there was much that
could be done to keep her brothers from issuing the same challenge
to Gaiallard, should Callum not survive.
Please, Lord, let him live!
she
prayed once more—‘twas now an habitual incantation.

Since thinking of the idea
of escaping to
Northvegia
last night, she’d been ruminating and scheming in
her mind to devise an unfailing plan to do just that. After her
experience traveling by sea vessel, as well as the ease with which
she’d journeyed along the coast, she was sure ‘twould not be such a
trial to find another ship to purchase passage upon. After all,
there were merchant ships traveling north through the isles of the
Hebrides nearly each sennight.

With a nervous flip of her
hand, she tugged at the ends of her hair. She took in a deep breath
and let it out on a sigh. ‘Twould mean cutting it.
Again
. Lord, but would
she ever be able to let it grow out? When she thought of how long
it had been, only a bit over sixteen moons prior, her throat
clogged with unshed tears. For the loss of it just seemed to
underscore the twisting, turning route her life had been forced
down.