Bran moaned as she angled her back responding to his licking and kissing of her milky white flesh. Small pulsing erupted between her thighs, begging for his manhood.
"Consummate this marriage, Bran, please. I beg you," she whispered.
She opened her legs ready for him to be between her firm thighs. She thought she would explode in seconds.
"I want you, wife. You are mine now. I will never let you go. I claim you," Bran said as he pushed the tip of his manhood inside of her.
Edith moaned as she opened her thighs wider, allowing him to plunge in.
Bran covered her small pink lips with his. He pulled out of her slightly and then moved in deeper, but not completely before he was out of her again, teasing her.
"Please, I need you, all of you," she begged.
With those words he pushed deep inside of her. Edith moaned and arched her back up. She had desired a wedding night like this for far too long.
Bran moved quickly in and out, back, and forth. Edith enjoyed every moment of feeling him inside of her. His throbbing manhood slid perfectly inside her. She thought she would explode at any moment.
"I love you, wife," he whispered.
Together they moved in exquisite rhythm, rocking the large canopy bed as it hit the wall with loud bangs. Edith released with a loud cry of passion. Bran did not stop with her sounds. He continued moving again and again until he released his juices inside of her, claiming her as his wife, forever.
She nodded off to sleep, just for half an hour or so, and when her new husband stirred her awake, she realized something. She did not have the recurring nightmare that she had every time she closed her eyes to sleep. No longer was she running down a dark hall lost with Gabriel chasing her. He just wasn't there anymore, and the dream never returned.
"As much as it pains me, wife, I believe that we must make an appearance at our wedding feast," Bran said as he woke her up with deep kisses.
"I suppose. Since the castle went through so much trouble to make the feast, we should make an appearance."
"And I have worked up an appetite, you did that to me."
"And you will need your strength when we return back to this room, because I am not letting you out of this room for two days, and we will be in bed the entire time."
"In that case I better eat quite vigorously. Now I must turn my back to you while you get dressed. If I see what is under the covers I will never be able to leave this room now," Bran said with a smile.
"I like the sound of that," she said.
Bran grabbed his plaid and wrapped it around his waist and moved out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. He poured himself a cup of whisky and stared at the fire as she dressed. "This reminds me of the first time that he had went to your room in order to tend your fire and bring you food when you first arrived." He glanced over at her, a broad grin on his lips.
She arched a brow at him and joined him at his side. "Does it?"
"I should have known you were feisty and spirited then, and not a weak woman." He pulled her to him and embraced her. "Now you are mine to claim forever." He leaned down and captured her lips in another passionate kiss.
In her heart, Edith knew that together they would be happy and have a family that would be a true Scottish heritage, now and forever.
Epilogue
Three Years Later
Edith and Maria sat on the garden wall of the courtyard. It had become their favorite spot to sit and watch their children play in the courtyard.
Edith closed her eyes and inhaled a very sharp breath of salty air. It was delicious on her tongue, and the sunshine hitting her cheeks felt glorious. The ocean breeze tickled her face as it made her loose hair dance against her skin.
The clanging of metal opened her eyes. She looked toward the corner of the courtyard to see the blacksmith hitting a fresh piece of hot metal to fashion into some sort of tool. Then she looked on the other side of the courtyard where the maids were busy at work hanging rugs and tapestries and hitting them with rods to get rid of the dust.
A stablehand carried a bundle of hay over his shoulder and walked across the courtyard to a few horses that were tied and put the hay in the trough. The horses eagerly ate.
This was everything she loved about the castle, watching the people who made the castle system work, doing their responsibilities and pitching in. She herself had become quite the right hand to her husband, the Tanist. Now that Maria had taught her the maps and the seasonal gatherings of food and hunting, she was able to oversee some departments of various things that helped the castle run, including making the kitchen more efficient and sanitary.
Edith had a sense of purpose and wasn't just a woman who sat in her rooms all day being waited on hand and foot. She had a job to do, not only to do with the castle, but she also had a new job as well, that of mother.
"Look, Mamma," a young red haired toddler named Brauna said to Edith.
"I see it. Very good," Edith said giving her child a kiss.
"Can you believe this? Us?" Maria said to Edith.
"No. I cannot. Not in a million years if someone told me I would be living in a castle in the past and have the children of a medieval warrior I would not believe it." Edith laughed.
"And yet look at us," Maria said.
"And look at you," Edith said putting her hand on Maria's belly.
"I know. Another one in the oven." Maria laughed.
Edith looked off into the far off distance at the main gate of the castle.
"Where do you think they are?"
"I think they're on their way back here. It will be the end of the autumn season in a few weeks and they will not be caught out in the winter," Maria said.
"I hope you're right. It has been too long," Edith said.
"It has been five months. It feels like a lifetime," Maria said.
"If they do not return this month does that mean that something has happened?" Edith asked as she had thought of this question since her husband Bran left to accompany the Laird on a journey to the lowlands to secure a pact between himself and the new Laird of those parts.
"Don't think of something like that. It will all be fine," Maria said.
Edith always had a bit of a sense of post trauma after what happened to them on the journey to the parish. Knowing that highwaymen could ambush riders, not caring if they were riders and guards of a castle or not, made her feel very paranoid anytime her husband left the castle for long periods of time. This was a time of lawlessness, and everyone's protection was only as much as they could protect themselves. She had learned that the hard way. She knew that her husband needed to leave the castle time and again, but she did not like it. It was, however, the responsibility of being the wife of a warrior to make do with it.
Then a horn sounded, startling both of she and Maria. They turned to the turrets of the wall gate as the man that blew the horn shouted, "The Laird has returned!"
Maria and Edith grinned excitedly to each other.
"They're home," Edith said happily.
"I told you. Nothing to worry about. Now help me get down from here," Maria said.
Edith helped Maria off the wall and then she grabbed Brauna, picking her up into her arms. "Dadda is home. You want to see Dadda?"
"Dadda!" Brauna shouted.
This made Edith's eyes water with tears of joy. She had her family and that was everything to her.
A few moments later, they heard the sounds of horses' hooves in the distant as the main gate was opened. Together the women, along with their children, and the castle villagers gathered in front of the castle.
In that moment, Edith had a flashback of tour busses parked in front of the castle and a parking lot of pebbles and old asphalt instead of the grassy, muddy area that was there now. She pushed the thought from her mind, but it was always there, making itself known every now and then. It was hard to push down her past, even when you were living in the past. Sometimes she feared she would wake up and be back in her modern time.
It was possible since no one understood the magic of the magic portal.
"There they are!" Maria pointed excitedly.
Edith looked and saw the Laird and the guards coming to the bridge about to cross onto the island. Edith smiled a big smile when she saw Bran, proudly riding alongside Cameron.
"Dadda," Brauna said.
"Yes, that's Daddy. Daddy is home. He's home… and I am home," Edith said knowing it was the true now and forever.
Bran pulled his horse to a stop next to his family. He dismounted and pulled Brauna into his arms, giving her a kiss on the cheek. The small child wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on tight.
Edith loved seeing the two of them together. It made her heart sing. Then Bran lowered his lips to hers and kissed her passionately.
"I have missed you," he groaned.
"I missed you. I love you."
"I love you, Edith Collins MacLeod, my wife."
"I really like the sound of that," she said.
"As do I. Now shall we get inside so I can show you just how much I missed you," Bran said quietly.
"Absolutely," Edith said.
"Boy! My horse!" Bran shouted at a stable boy that ran over to relieve Bran of his horse.
Edith looked at her husband proudly. Seeing him return home riding side by side with the Laird of a castle turned her on more than she ever knew was possible. But it wasn't just lust that filled her heart, it was joy and happiness. She was proud of the man that he was. He was a man of morals and a good father. He would do anything to protect them and their children and something told her that kind of chivalry only existed in this time.
"Welcome home, Laird MacLeod," Edith said as Cameron embraced his wife and child.
"Thank you, Edith," Cameron said with a smile.
Looking around at her new family, Edith felt like the luckiest woman in her modern time period as well as the past she now lived in. Nothing would ever change her mind about that.
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Chapter 1
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At midnight, Audrina James finally laid her head down, gratefully onto her pillow. It had been another grueling day in Trauma One, it was always the worst when the nursing staff and doctors of the trauma ward lost a child. Audrina looked at the ceiling where she had taped pictures of stars, lush green fields, exotic ancient castles and the forests of her ancestral homeland, vowing to herself that she would visit Claran Castle in Scotland someday. Audrina had put the pictures up so that she could clear her mind of the gruesome scenes that she faced in the E.R. day after day, night after night. They’d worked hard to save the boy from the ravages of a car crash, but Donald Nightingale, of sunny northern California, flatlined at eleven-thirty, after half a day’s worth of surgeries, blood transfusions and plasma bags. Audrina didn’t cry much anymore after working in the trauma center. But there were a few patients who tugged at her heartstrings. Donald would be one of them.
“Look at the pictures. Look at the pictures,” Audrina chanted to herself. She used them as a platform to spring her mind into more pleasant thoughts before she drifted off to sleep. Audrina had been fascinated with the stories and lore of her ancestry when her grandfather used to sit her on his knee and recount tales of his youth, roaming the Highlands of Scotland. That was before a potato famine reached his homeland and forced his family to immigrate to the United States. Audrina would spend hours, daydreaming as she roamed the redwoods behind the house, pretending the tall trees were the ancient forests of Scotland. She knew now that Scotland was much greener, and the forests were made of tall oaks, and rowan trees, beech and pine and ash. But she had promised herself she would visit and discover it for herself someday.
That was all a couple of decades ago, when Audrina had been just seven. After high school, she had gone on to nursing school, and now was faced with the ever-increasing violence of the San Francisco Community Hospital that came through the doors. The timing had just never felt right. There was always one more case to oversee, or one more patient to look after and successfully care for until they walked out the door of their own volition, and not in a body bag or stretcher.
Audrina certainly had the money saved for the trip, but she always felt there was something holding her back. Some small fear she had that there was something Grandfather neglected to tell her about the ancient folklore. Audrina never quite made the jump to buy the plane ticket or book the hotels. She’d never really been sure why, but as she laid there, thinking about all of the never did’s that young Donald was never going to experience, she thought, “Why am I holding back? I have no solid reason, no proof that there is anything in Scotland I should be afraid of.”
“I’m going to request the time off tomorrow and start booking tickets after my trip to the museum,” she vowed out loud.
There was no one to hear her proclamation, she realized. There wasn’t anyone in her life that she could tell really. “I guess that makes it kind of sad, maybe even a little pathetic. Sure, I have my co-workers, but they would all say, “Finally, you are taking a vacation,” when I tell them,” Audrina thought.
Audrina had become a trauma nurse after Mom had suffered the same fate as little Donald. She winced as the memories of that day entered her mind. It had been much like Donald’s parents rushing into the hospital. The only difference between her grandfather being informed, and Mrs. Nightingale’s heart-wrenching screams, had been significantly different, but as equally as devastating. That’s when Grandfather had taken her in. She didn’t know who her dad was, and it never occurred to her to go looking for him. She knew that she was loved when Grandfather took her, a scared little girl, home that night. He had cared for her and she didn’t need anyone else. Anyone, that was, except her mom, but she wasn’t coming back. When Grandfather had passed away she was twenty-one, she was left with no one. She hadn’t even bothered getting a pet. Audrina was never home because she worked so much. She’d always felt like it was her duty to save people because, well, she couldn’t save her mom back then.
Audrina tried to roll over onto her side. She was disgusted with herself that she was caught up in her own head and wallowing in self-pity. Her vow was just that and she was sticking to it. She realized, as she flipped back onto her back, that she had never been able to fall asleep unless she was looking up at her pictures. Grandfather had printed them for her the week that Mom had passed. He wanted her to have something to think about, other than the sadness of losing her mom.
As Audrina’s eyes began to flutter closed, and she emptied her mind save for thoughts of faraway lands and lost familial ties, something, perhaps the moonlight, sparkled in the pictures above her. A small light that glowed in the tower of the castle, appeared to be brighter in the picture. But she squinted at it, and then chalked it up to fatigue and weary eyes. Her lashes batted against her cheeks one last time, and she fell into a deep, sound sleep.
Candles surrounded her in a circle, haloing the circular room with an ethereal glow. Long thin tapers of white sheep’s fat burned low and lit the gloom of the dark tower. She’d been locked in there for so long, she had lost track of time.
There was a straw mattress, in a splintered bed of Ashwood. The thin blanket cast across it, was worn and frayed at the edges. A small wooden chair, equally as uncomfortable, sat at the base of the bed. It wobbled on three legs, having relinquished one of the legs long ago, for the usage of a handle for a torch. The torch, had long ago burnt to ash, and was scattered and lost amongst the dust and dirt that caked the cold stone floor. She rocked back on her heels and murmured a soft prayer to the Gods, the Spirits, anyone who would listen.
The tower was a prison, a tortuous place that seeped into the soul like the smoky blackness of a demon, coming from the bowels of hell to inhabit and ingest the goodness of the person’s humanity.
There were bones in the ashes and they cried out to her. Begging her to release them of their captivity. She couldn’t help them that night. They would remain tethered there until the angels came for them on the day of reckoning. Thunder clapped outside the castle and lit up the tiny room in an intense light that threw the stark furnishings of the room into harsh contrast. The candles flickered, and she feared they would blow out. Cotswold Castle had many frivolities, protection from the elements in the prison tower, was not one of them.
Rain lashed against the stone tower and sprayed into the room in droves of unending dampness. It rained often in Scotland. She hadn’t been dry since she was thrown into that room. The water collected in puddles at the base of the windows. She sat in the middle of the room in an attempt to keep herself and her activities dry.
She knelt over a carnelian kilt pin. It glowed in the candlelight like fire. She reached out her hand and touched it as she murmured. The contact sent a spiral of heat through her fingertips, and she jerked her hand back. How could the stone set in silver be warm to the touch? There was no fire there. The brooch had not been warmed against constant contact with her skin, as she had been shivering since she arrived there. The cold was such that it seeped not only into her bones, but into her very soul. There was no possible way the stone could be warm.
Her eyes fixated on the glowing center of the gem as she continued to murmur, “Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, through spans of time, I cannot rest. Seek thee my kin, and pardon my sin, that I may reincarnate, and new life begin. And with this pin I shall be returned to my love, cast through the ages, by touch of mine blood, and light from sun up above.”
Kiss A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (A Highlander Across Time Book 2) Page 15