Season of the Witch

by Jaid Black

  “Yes.”

  He felt unsure of himself and didn’t like the feeling. “And ye dinna have a care for Latin?”

  She ignored his question. “I have to show you something.”

  Lucia began removing her gown. Cainnech swallowed heavily.

  “Latin makes ye feel wanton?” he asked, confused.

  She didn’t reply. She turned around, showing him her backside, and removed her gown entirely. Cainnech’s gaze narrowed in on her plump, perfectly round arse. His pupils dilated as his breathing grew labored. “’Tis a comely arse ye have,” he said thickly.

  Still Lucia ignored him. He started to wonder if she meant to drive him daft when she lifted her hair and held it up with her hands o’er her head. His gray eyes widened as he read the single marking etched into her back.

  “Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit,” Cainnech murmured. “Nothing comes from nothing.”

  The hair at the nape of his neck stirred. Suddenly he understood why Lucia’s gaze had been so transfixed upon his back. ’Twas mayhap a common Latin saying, underscoring the fact that anything worth having in this life was worth fighting for, yet to believe it strongly enough to etch it into your verra skin for eternity…’twas far from common. On a wench ’twas unheard of.

  Lucia let her hair fall back down, cascading around her shoulders and down to mid-back. She slowly turned around until she faced him, her naked, fertile body perfect in every way. Cainnech’s eyes narrowed lustfully. His heartbeat sped up.

  Her tits, large and ripe, were the same shade of tan as the rest of her. Her stiff, thick nipples were the most suckable he’d ever seen, their coloring a mix of honey and berries. Her belly carried the perfect amount of flesh, primed for him to put his babe inside. Her pussy had been given the same attention to detail as the hair upon her comely head. The triangular patch of golden curls had been trimmed in a fashion he’d never afore seen, yet instantly coveted.

  And it was his. Every inch of her belonged to him.

  Cainnech blew out a breath. His balls were tight with need, his cock so rigid it ached.

  “Yer getting’ fucked right now,” he murmured, standing up in his bath. He grunted, pleased, when her eyes widened at the sight of his long, thick cock. “Ye should no’ have teased me if ye dinna want fucked.”

  He should mayhap have consulted with the wedded men about the softer language they used with their wives, but Cainnech’s wife appeared aroused by his bluntness. That fact made him want her impossibly more. He stepped from the tub.

  “Then fuck me,” Lucia said as if daring him. She strolled over to the bed and lay down upon it afore spreading her legs. “Or have you changed your mind and want me to marry someone else?”

  Cainnech kenned she was goading him a’purpose. His jealousy instantly flared anyway, his jaw tightening as he stalked to the bed.

  “Ye will never fuck any mon but me,” he commanded as he climbed onto the bed and a’tween her legs. “Dinna test me, Lucia.”

  The laird’s gaze soaked up the picture afore him. The woman he’d wanted since afore he’d known she was aught more than the imaginings of cowards was splayed out before him with her legs wide open. She wanted him. What’s more, she belonged to him. ’Twas headier a victory than any mon born a bastard could ken.

  Cainnech ran his battle-roughened hands all o’er her fetching body. She moaned, her breath hitching as he massaged her plump tits and stiff nipples. He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth. He groaned around it, having never wanted to suck and fuck a wench so badly in the whole of his life.

  Lucia’s fingers wrapped through his dark, plaited hair. Her legs opened farther, inviting him inside. “I don’t understand why I feel so connected to you,” she breathed out, “as if I’ve known you all of my life.”

  Cainnech stilled. He released her nipple with a popping sound and stared down into her face. His pulse sped. “Dinna tell me things ye dinna feel in truth.”

  Her light-green eyes widened. “Why are you so confident and arrogant in everything except this?” Her fingers continued playing with his braids. A soft smile curved her lips. “Be grateful I’m a bit tipsy,” she whispered, “because it’s one of the few times people are completely honest when they don’t want to be.”

  Lucia’s admission made him want her a thousand times more. He didn’t understand their connection either, but was relieved to ken ’twas not one sided. When she pulled his head down and parted her lips, Cainnech kissed her hard, his tongue hungrily thrusting inside her warm mouth. His hands returned to her tits, massaging her hard nipples as their kiss deepened. She moaned into his mouth as she grabbed and squeezed his cock, driving him over the edge.

  Breathing heavily, Cainnech tore his lips from Lucia’s and grabbed his stiff cock by the base. He knew he should pleasure her afore pleasuring himself, yet the need to mark her as his, to make their marriage one hundred percent irrevocable, drove him nigh unto daft.

  “Ye are mine,” he said thickly, situating his cock at her wet opening. He hoped to make her pregnant this verra eve. “Only mine.”

  Cainnech impaled her on a groan, seating himself to the hilt. His teeth gritted as he tried to be still and give her body time to adjust to his size. Her ouching sounds gave him more pleasure than a wee bit.

  “Not yet,” Lucia said, her eyes tightly closed. “Give me a minute.”

  He kissed her neck and played with her nipples until she was ready. If she didn’t permit him to move inside her soon, he like as naught would go daft in truth. Perspiration dotted his skin as he waited, the need to rut in her overwhelming.

  “I canna take this,” Cainnech ground out. “Can ye handle me now, wife?”

  Her eyes slowly opened. “I think so,” Lucia whispered. She blinked. “Try a few strokes.”

  Her words made his nostrils flare. He pulled himself out a wee bit and plunged into her again. And again. And again.

  “Oh yesss,” Lucia hissed, her fingers releasing his hair and sinking into his back. “I’m ready.”

  It was all the encouragement Cainnech needed. His jaw tightened and his muscles tensed as he impaled Lucia again. He fucked her like an animal in heat, the possessiveness he felt apparent in his every stroke. “My pussy,” he said gravelly, the sound of her moans driving him wild. He fucked her faster, in and out, over and over, again and again. “All mine.”

  “Fuck me harder,” Lucia gasped. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. “Now.”

  Cainnech gave her what she demanded, fucking her harder. His teeth gritted as he impaled her tight, wet pussy with fast, deep strokes. The sound of their sexes joining filled the bedchamber, perspiration-slicked skin slapping against perspiration-slicked skin. He fucked her harder, deeper, faster, possessively marking her as his with every stroke.

  “I’m coming!” Lucia cried out, making his balls tighten. “Keep it just like that! Stay—ohhhhh!”

  She came hard and loud, her pussy contracting around his swollen cock. His sexy wife could come from penetration alone. That knowledge sent him over the edge.

  Cainnech fucked her harder, a low, primal growl erupting from his throat. The vein in his neck throbbed and his breathing grew labored as he plunged in and out of her cunt, fucking her faster and deeper, again, and again, and again.

  “Lucia.” He came on a roar, his entire body convulsing, hot cum spurting from his cock and filling her cunt. He kept up the crazed pace, groaning as he impaled her, branding her as his possession, whilst her pussy milked him of all seed.

  She gasped for breath as he collapsed beside her, his growl resonating into a purr of completion as their breathing slowly calmed. Cainnech forced her to lie atop him, grunting with satisfaction when she relented to his wish without protest. He kneaded her arse with his hands, having never felt more whole a mon than he did in this moment.

  “Ye are mine, Lucia MacKenzie,” Cainnech murmured. “Dinna think tae ever leave me.”

  * * * * *

  It frightened Lucia how inc
redibly right lying in Cainnech’s fiercely possessive embrace felt. Her engineer’s mind couldn’t logically process how such a strong feeling could develop between two people in mere hours. A lot had transpired during those hours, yet their time together still amounted to less than a day.

  Cainnech was asleep, a fact she could discern from the even rise and fall of his chest, so she used the respite to gather her thoughts. She recalled the words from the book, long ago committed to memory.

  Obsecro Domine Deus meus in hac sacratissima nocte, vigilia cum repente ostium aperire regna inter vivos et mortuos infinita spatia temporum, missis ad finem doloris tui servo locus verus es mihi aptasti mihi.

  Oh Lord my God I beseech Thee on this most sacred night, the eve when Thou dost open the portal between the realms of the living and the realms of the dead to the infinity of time itself, to end the suffering of thy humble servant by sending me to the true place Thou hast prepared for me.

  Lucia nibbled at her lip. Upon her arrival in 1265, she had tried to reverse what she’d done and return to the future with Gabhran before Halloween night came to an end, but they’d gone nowhere. At least a dozen times they’d repeated the process, giving up only after October 31, 1265, had turned into November 1, 1265. Out of sheer fright she had insisted they try again every day since, even knowing it wouldn’t work. Now she was left wondering if there was a reason for that…

  Like maybe—just maybe—this was where God wanted her to be.

  Mentally, Lucia wasn’t ready to give up hope of returning to the only world she’d ever known. The fact that her heart was already at war with her brain made her fear wax to epic proportions, though not for the reason she would have expected.

  Cainnech MacKenzie was a good man—a fact she couldn’t deny—yet she also knew this world was a fragile one, a place where anything from a trite bout of influenza to a raging war could fell the larger-than-life being holding on to her. Selfish as it perhaps was, she’d be foolish not to consider what would become of her if anything happened to Cainnech. Unfortunately, there was only one answer to that question and it was an answer she didn’t know how to come to terms with—anything could happen to her.

  Lucia realized that anything could happen to her in the future as well, but at least the realm of possibilities inherent to anything were familiar ones there. Here, in a foreign land during a time she didn’t belong to, everything was an unknown variable. She closed her eyes and inwardly sighed. Engineers didn’t deal in chance, they were masters of precision and calculated odds.

  Still asleep, Cainnech tightened his embrace around her as if innately realizing she needed the feeling of warmth and safety he provided. Lucia slowly fell asleep, her head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat giving her exactly that.

  Chapter Nine

  December 21, 1265 A.D.

  Cainnech awoke, content and replete, prepared to begin his duties as laird. He had planned to let his wee wife sleep in for he’d put her through enough yesterday to exhaust any wench, yet found that she wasn’t abed beside him. Jolting to an upright position, Cainnech was so desperate to assure himself Lucia hadn’t fled from him that he nigh unto forgot to dress himself. His pulse racing, he quickly donned his black plaid and rushed from their bedchamber, taking the castle’s stairs two at a time.

  Lucia sat in the great hall, talking and laughing with Iona, Cadha, Brae and others of the clanswomen whose names he had yet to learn. He blew out a breath, relieved his wife hadn’t attempted to flee. He watched from the bottom of the stairs as Niall and Gabhran walked toward the group of wenches with bowls of small fruits in their hands.

  “I dinna ken how ye grew these in the Highlands, Iona,” Niall said. “’Tis certain ye have talents beyond the kitchens.”

  “I had tae be sure me Leith dinna go hungry.” She shrugged. “’Twas naught but trial and error, Sir Niall.”

  His face colored. “I am no’ a knight yet.”

  Cainnech’s eyes widened. In his determination to make the feisty Lucia his, he’d forgotten about the vow he’d made to his brother. He would remedy that slight the soonest.

  “Don’t underestimate your abilities, Iona,” Lucia said as she picked through the bowls. “You have an engineer’s mind to be sure.”

  “’Tis what ye are, milady?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “So if I have the right of this,” Brae sweetly interjected, “I’m tae take me sewing needle and loop these pieces of fruit taegether with the wee cloth?”

  “Exactly,” Lucia answered. “I wouldn’t string them together too closely though because we need to drape it around the entire tree.”

  Brae nodded. “’Tis good fun, yer Christmas!”

  His wife’s beautiful smile lit up the whole of the great hall. “I haven’t celebrated it since…” Her smile faltered, causing Cainnech’s brow to furrow. “Well, it’s been a long time.”

  “Why did ye stop yer celebrations, milady?” Cadha asked.

  Lucia’s back stiffened. Cainnech expected her not to answer and was surprised when she did.

  “My parents were killed,” she quietly admitted, making his bedamned heart wrench. “I loved them very much, as they loved me.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Christmas was always our favorite holiday so when they died I couldn’t bear to celebrate it without them.”

  Niall and Gabhran grew as silent as the wenches seated at the main table with Lucia. Finally one of them spoke—one he hadn’t seen standing there until just now.

  “I’m sorry ye lost yer mum and da’, milady,” wee Leith told her. “I lost me sire tae.”

  Lucia smiled at the lad. “It’s sad to lose a parent, isn’t it?”

  “Aye. I miss me da’ everra day.” He worked that over in his mind. “Yet now God brought ye tae me and mum. Mayhap He did that so none of us would have tae be alone.”

  Cainnech mentally grunted. The boy was nigh unto making him weep.

  “I think,” Lucia softly replied, patting him on the head, “that you might just be right.”

  “We are honored ’tis our clan ye have chosen tae celebrate yer Christmas with again,” Brae intoned. “Next year ’twill be better yet for we’ll have us more time tae prepare.”

  “We still have four days left tae make this one joyous,” Cadha said. “’Twill be the first Godly celebration I dinna dread the coming of.”

  “Cadha!” Brae chastised. “Yer mouth!”

  “’Tis true, mum. The priests dinna believe in happiness else they would no’ bleed it from us like leaches from flesh.”

  That brought a smile to Cainnech’s lips and a shared laugh to the table. Lucia stood up when they finished jesting about it.

  “Brae and Cadha,” his wife said, “you are doing excellent work with the crabapples!” She brushed her hands together. “Here comes Smithy. You two will be all right if Iona and I leave you for a few minutes?”

  “Aye, aye,” Brae quickly assured her. “Me daughter and meself work nicely taegether.”

  “Excellent. Then Iona and I shall talk to Smithy. Hopefully I’ll be able to bake those tarts for the Christmas feast.” She grinned. “Knock on wood.”

  Everyone at the table knocked upon it. Cainnech’s eyebrow rose. He’d apparently missed the explanation behind that whilst slumbering.

  “Gabhran,” Lucia said over her shoulder as she walked toward the clan’s blacksmith, “can you fetch me a cloak if your laird is awake please?”

  “Aye, of course.”

  Cainnech grunted. Her cloak? She meant to go outside—a fact that did not sit well with his territorial self. He decided ’twas a good time to announce his presence. “Good morn. I am awake, wife. Why are ye in need of yer cloak?”

  When Lucia’s eyebrow rose, he realized the question had been put to her in a rather surly tone. He nodded at Gabhran to do his wife’s bidding then strode to where she stood in the great hall next to Smithy.

  “Me laird,” Smithy greeted. “Good morn
tae ye.”

  “Good morn.” The old blacksmith had gone from relaxed to tense, which didn’t escape Lucia’s notice. “I always awaken sounding like a bear,” Cainnech lied, hoping to put both of them at ease. “What have ye got there?”

  The wee lie must have worked for Smithy’s countenance perked back up. Cainnech was accustomed to bluntness, not fretting o’er feelings, so this new role…’twould require some learning.

  “I canna say,” Smithy admitted on a toothless grin. “I fashioned it according tae the specifications yer mon Gabhran gave me on behalf of yer wife.” He handed the metal thing to Cainnech and inclined his head. “Be it still all right for me tae break me fast here?”

  “Yes, of course,” Lucia said. “Thank you for getting this made so quickly.”

  “Aye,” Cainnech said dumbly, not accustomed to the niceties, “thank ye.”

  “Iona, would you be so kind as to get him a trencher before we head outside?” Lucia asked a bit crisply. She had that fake smile painted onto her face again, letting the laird know he’d be getting an earful.

  “Aye, milady. I’ll be but a moment.”

  When Iona and Smithy took their leave and headed toward the kitchens, Lucia gave Cainnech her full attention. “Do you feel better after giving an old man enough of a fright to die on the spot?”

  Cainnech grunted. “I dinna mean tae. ’Tis ye I meant tae give a fright tae and I ken ye can take it.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  “Why?” Cainnech ground out. He was hurt and worried, but knew only how to convey it through anger. “Why do ye think tae leave the castle, wife?”

  Lucia’s green eyes, the color of the gown she wore this day, narrowed. “I’m only going outside.”

  His hand slashed through the air. “No’ without me.”

  “Fine,” she bit out. Lucia shook her head, as if disappointed. “I thought after last night you’d be a little nicer to me, but apparently not.”

  Cainnech’s gray eyes softened a bit. “I dinna want ye tae leave.”

  Her sigh was audible. “I’m going through a lot of emotions right now, Cainnech. Do you think you could remember that and be supportive rather than worrying over your own wants for a change?” She splayed her hands. “Telling me you don’t want me to go outside and giving me no reason as to why is not being supportive, only aggravating.”