Highland Sacrifice (Highland Wars Book 2) (9 page)

Ceana sat up and slid her hand over his solid length. She wrapped her fingers around him and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I like to watch you, too.” Ceana scooted forward until her hips were on the edge of the table and then her feet were on the floor. “Now it’s my turn for dessert.”

She stood up, scraping her nails gently up his abdomen to his nipples where she softened her touch. Macrath’s breath caught. He’d forgotten, in his need to please her, that Ceana had wanted to play the seductress today. She pushed him gently.

Mo chreach
, but he’d not realized how much he wanted her to play her part. To see just what she would do. His blood fired hot.

“Sit down, Prince, and take your pleasure.”

Macrath nearly fell into his chair, eyes wide with decadent curiosity as his wife fell to her knees between his thighs.

Chapter Ten

THE corded sinew of Macrath’s thighs rippled beneath her fingertips. She stared up at his handsome face, the muscle jerking in his jaw. His hooded gaze made her heart skip a beat.

“Are you certain?” he rasped.

“Oh aye.” Ceana’s voice came out throaty and seductive—shocking even herself.

His shaft glistened on the tip. She licked her lips and gripped the base, her fingers wrapping around. The skin of his length was velvet soft, and though she’d touched him before, she’d never had time to explore like she did now.

’Twas mesmerizing.

Macrath touched her hair, pinching a cluster of strands and gently running his fingers through it. He curled the end around his finger.

She was nervous. Afraid she wouldn’t know how to do it right. Wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given her. Keeping her gaze on his, her hands shaking, she leaned forward and let her lips brush the tip.

Macrath quickly inhaled.

She brushed them over again and he exhaled sharply.

Ceana flicked her tongue out to taste him. Salty, spicy, and so very Macrath. He tasted the way he smelled. His essence was seductive, masculine and intoxicating. Growing bolder, she ran her tongue from the top down to the bottom and back again.

He groaned, threaded his hands in her hair just as she’d done to him when he pleasured her. His entire body trembled with restrained power.

And her hands stopped shaking.

Ceana could tell he liked this a lot.

She took him into her mouth, letting her lips stretch around his thickness, and glided low, then up again.

He cursed under his breath.

Ceana’s nipples hardened. Between her thighs quivered.

She liked this a lot, too.

Her grip tightened around his hard flesh, confidence growing as she slid up and down his shaft, trying different moves of her tongue. Macrath’s hips gently swayed with her ministrations. His grip in her hair tightened, and he hissed between his teeth.

“Gods, lass…” he groaned.

His enjoyment only fueled her excitement. No wonder men loved this—she liked it, too. And the way his mouth had felt on her… If only they could lie in bed all day, exploring and loving each other.

“Stop,” he moaned. “You’ve got to stop.”

“Hmm?” she said around his sex—not stopping.

His eyes popped open, hazy and filled with desire. Did he like when she hummed around him? She did it again and this time he let out a moan, then gritted his teeth.

“Och,
mo chreach
. Don’t do that.”

She did it again.

“Merciless wench.”

Ceana smiled and winked up at him.

“By the gods, who are you? A nymph come to torment me?”

Who she was with him was someone completely different. A bold seductress who had been trapped inside her. A woman who only came out when the two of them were alone and seeking pleasure.

“I want to make love to you,” he said.

Ceana sucked harder, her mouth moving up and down at a quickened pace, just like he’d done to her. Just like he did when he made love to her and they were both nearing the brink.

Macrath groaned, his fist in her hair tightening. He tugged. “Stop,” he breathed. “Please.”

“Mm-mmm,” she denied him.

She wanted him to feel the release she’d experienced. To climax and have the powerful sensations ripple over him, take control of his mind and body.

Macrath bucked. His hand clenched tight to the arm of the chair unfurled and his fingers danced over her breast. He plucked at her nipples. His mouth parted and his breaths came as fast as hers.

“You torment me,” he choked out.

She answered by letting her hand join in the fun, stroking his cock up and down, meeting her mouth in the middle.

Macrath’s head fell back, his entire body tensed up and then he shuddered, groaning loud enough to echo in the rafters. At that same moment hot liquid filled her mouth. She took it in, her eyes wide at having witnessed his climax, having brought him there with nothing other than her hand and mouth.

Her entire body sizzled, quivered, and she wanted more. Wanted for him to fill her, to thrust deep and stroke the ache building in her center.

“Love…that was…amazing.” He eyed her, his face as flushed as she felt. “Have you ever…?”

Ceana laughed and pushed to stand. “Never.”

“You’re a natural.”

“I played off of your reactions.”

“That’s why we are so good together.” He clasped his arms around her hips and kissed her navel.

She kissed the top of his head, closing her eyes to cherish the feeling of being held by him.

“I feel so safe with you,” she murmured. “’Tis like a dream I will be yanked from at any minute.”

He kissed her right below her heart. “Nay, not a dream, love.” He looked up at her, shaking his head in wonder. “We two are the luckiest in all the Highlands, as I see it. I believe there has never been two contestants who found what we have. We’ve been blessed by the gods. They knew we’d be right for one another. They wanted us to live because they want us to change the fate for the people of Scotland.”

“Aye. And we will. But not tonight.” Ceana pulled on Macrath’s hand until he stood. “Tonight I want to lie beside you.”

THE peace of the moonlit night vanished with the dismal coming of dawn.

A swift knock at the door roused them from the heavy sleep they’d finally fallen into. Ceana glanced toward the shuttered window and saw no light filtering through, though her body’s internal timepiece swore it must be morning. Their fire was banked and not a candle lit. She stretched lazily, ignoring the second knock.

Macrath, however, sat up swiftly, swathed his plaid loosely around his hips and walked with brisk purpose toward the door.

The more she blinked, the more she could see light was indeed filtering in, however hazy and gray it was. Today would be an ugly day.

Macrath flung open the door.

Ceana lifted up on elbow, attempting to hear the hushed words from the guard outside their room.

Her face flushed. She’d forgotten about the guards last night. They must have heard everything that went on between her and Macrath; from the first lick to the third time they’d made love. Her thighs were still sore. But she relished the ache, and if not for who they were, and daylight bringing them back to reality, then she might attempt to seduce her husband again.

Macrath shut the door and turned to face her, a frown marring his brow.

“We must rise early, love,” he said. “Already our people line the courtyard.”

Ceana sat all the way forward and tossed her blanket off. Cold air rushed over her nude body, puckering her flesh. She stood, hopping from foot to foot as the chill of the floor froze her toes.

She found her hose and pulled them on.

Macrath came up behind her, circling his arms around her middle. “Shall I stoke the fire to warm you?”

“As much as I’d like that, it would be a waste of wood. And with our people outside braving this weather to speak with us, I would only feel wretched if I enjoyed the warmth.”

“You are a remarkable woman. A good leader. Our people are so lucky to have you.”

Ceana smiled. “I do not think luck has anything to do with it. I only do my duty.”

“I admire you for it.”

“You do your duty all the same.”

“Aye.” Macrath swept her hair away from her neck and kissed her where her heartbeat pulsed. “I cannot wait for tonight,” he teased.

Ceana turned in his embrace and slid her arms around his waist. “Me, too.”

He kissed her softly, and all too briefly. “We’d best ready ourselves. Shall I call for a maid?”

Ceana shook her head. “Nay, I can manage.”

They dressed in silence and when they finished, Macrath led her to the great hall, where they climbed the dais and faced the royal council members.

Lady Beatrice had dark circles beneath her eyes and her pallor was ashen. She looked as though she’d not slept in days. Ceana and Macrath nodded, working to keep their faces void of emotion. They’d agreed to remain cordial to the council so Beatrice and her cronies would not suspect of her and Macrath’s knowledge of the council’s treason. The council remained stone-faced, not one of them acknowledging their greeting.

Ceana’s stomach did a little flip, but she ignored that, too.

The soulless beings that confronted her were nothing more than demon spawns, and she’d do best to remember that and to remain strong.

They turned to face the imposing doors and guards who flanked them.

“Lead them in.” This time, it was Macrath who addressed the guards, before Lady Beatrice had a chance to do so.

Ceana hid her smile. Score one for them. Zero for the council. They would win this. She was certain. They had no other choice.

Feet shuffled over the floor as men, women and children filed in. They shivered, and some of the children’s lips had started to turn blue. Ceana was glad to see that none had snow on them, as she’d assumed by the dim light of dawn that it would begin to snow soon.

“Increase the fire,” she ordered, and several servants went straight to piling on more wood. “We’ll not have our people freezing inside and out.”

“State your name and grievance,” Macrath ordered of the first person.

And so it went, for several hours. Much the same as they’d heard the day before, save for no other person claimed to be held prisoner. And still no one wished to leave Sìtheil.

Ceana had held her breath when each tenant stepped forward, waiting for another horror story to be relayed. She waited for Beatrice to lean in and press her claw like fingers to her shoulder, to squeeze tight and whisper horrible things in her ear, but she did not.

By the time they’d heard the last of those who’d come for the day, her stomach was wound so tight she thought she’d vomit.

How could she have become so controlled by her fears?

When the games had been completed, she’d thought for certain she would be in control of herself, of her destiny. However, as each day went by, she realized how little control she actually had. She was a slave to Beatrice and the council. A slave to her private, wretched thoughts and memories.

She had to set herself free. But every drum beat, every gust of wind, every gasp, all brought to her mind the images of the games. Some horrid thing she’d witnessed or done, and then the memory of her brother would find its way inside and she’d recall his death and her people, who’d been summoned but not yet arrived.

Would they?

Were they angry with her over leaving abruptly? Over Aaron’s death? She prayed not, for she’d done what she’d thought best for their survival, and even Boarg, her guard from home, had said he was proud of her.

Aaron’s family would be upset, but their pain would not filter over to hate and poison the rest of the clan. At least that was her fervent hope.

Aye, she was their laird. Aye, she now had the means to provide them with what they needed to survive.

But would they forgive her for what they’d lost?

Aaron had been a casualty of the games she’d not planned for. He’d accompanied her, along with Boarg, as protection. She’d not intended for him to join the games, and when he had she’d not wanted him to die.

She’d also not wanted him to win.

Which pressed an avalanche of guilt upon her. It was her fault that he’d died. It was her fault that her clan had not yet arrived to seek succor.

In the end, she was culpable for so many things, she found it hard to breathe.

“Ceana.” Macrath’s hand pressed on top of hers. He leaned in close. “Are you all right?”

Swallowing hard, she managed to nod, and forced a weak smile to her lips. “Aye. I’m well.”

“The council wishes to eat with us in the map room.” Macrath’s voice held no hint of his feelings on the subject, though she had no problem guessing. The idea of eating a meal with the council in a private room was nauseating.

“Sounds delightful,” she lied, glancing back at the council to give them what she hoped was a humble smile.

Stiff smiles crossed their lips in return. At least they didn’t know
she
knew.

Macrath held out his arm to her, and she slipped her hand around his elbow, gaining strength from him.

She had to be strong for him, too. They needed each other. Looking up into his eyes, she nearly got lost in his gaze. Dark blue pools of swirling emotion. She needed to remember that Macrath was experiencing much the same as she.

“Wherever you lead, I will follow,” she whispered.

He leaned in close so the council could not hear him respond. “I follow a path that has been forged for us both, and I will only go with you by my side.”

Ceana pulled his hand up to hers and kissed it. “Do not eat or drink anything unless we see them do so, from the same plate or jug,” she warned.