Celtic Peril (Celtic Storm Book 6)

by Ria Cantrell

  “Are you alright,” he asked, concerned that he had hurt her.

  “Perfect,” she answered breathily and he pulled out slightly only to plunge deep within her again. As he felt her naturally pulse and clench around him, Tom knew she was alright and that she was ready to love him completely. She moved with him, matching his rhythm; quickly learning the beat that was one with his heart.

  “Oh, love. You feel so good. Uh, I am yours, now.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. It felt pretty wonderful, she had to admit. All sense of maiden shyness evaporated with each thrust of his hips against her. Tom liked that she was naturally attuned to him. It was as if they were always meant to be lovers; like he was solely created to be inside her.

  As he got lost in the movement of their lovemaking, Tom surprisingly found himself rolled onto his back. His beautifully strong, warrior woman had straddled him and she began riding him in wild abandon. He was ecstatic. She was like a fantasy come true. Her sighs confirmed her pleasure and he could only answer her with moans of his own.

  After that, it soon turned fevered in a matter of minutes and as he felt her rolling over him and tightening about him, Tom lost himself to the climax that overwhelmed them both. She keened in her ecstasy and he burst forth within her, filling her with his seed and stars seemed to explode behind her eyes. She felt him release into her and she was overcome with emotion. Tears leaked from her closed eyes and Tom worried that he had hurt her after all. He drew her down off of him and gathered her into his arms. He spooned around her and just held her. He said, “Did I hurt you?”

  “Oh, my goodness, nay. I just did no’ know it would be like that. Lovin’ ye’, Tavish, was so perfect.”

  Tom smiled into her hair at the base of her neck and he said, “Oh no? Didn’t anyone ever tell you how wonderful it is?”

  “No, but I had an idea it was nay terrible.”

  “Really? How did an innocent lass come to such a conclusion,” he asked while stroking her shoulder and planting kisses against her neck. She nestled her backside against him and he thought it would not take long to get hard again if she kept that up. He heard her giggle and he was enchanted.

  “Well,” she admitted. “I once saw a maid and one of my father’s guards together. They thought they were hidden, but I was able to watch. I know I should nay have done such a wicked thing, but I could nay turn away. The maid seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.”

  Tom laughed at her candor. She was such an enigma, really. She could be so unapproachable one minute and a wild sexual hellion the next. He rather liked the latter of the two and he was determined to encounter that side of her again in a few minutes. As if reading his mind, Jenna turned in his arms. Wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks, she smiled into his face and asked, “Can we do that again?”

  Tom kissed her so deeply, that she moaned anew. “I was hoping you’d want to.”

  “Aye, Tavish. I want to. Again, and maybe again after that and, oh, could ye’ kiss me again? Like ye’ did before ye’ loved me?”

  “Wild child,” he said lovingly. “I will kiss every inch of you again and again. You have my promise about that.”

  Tom was glad she was not afraid to ask for what she liked and had embraced what had pleased her. He wanted to make her writhe in ecstasy while going down on her, if that was what she wanted. He was glad that medieval girls enjoyed the oral aspects of loving; at least his medieval girl did. So Tom set out to make good his promise. When he had sufficiently kissed her and enticed her and brought her to her second climax, he was ready to make love to her again; which he did very happily.

  Afterwards, they bathed in the tepid waters left from his previous bath, but they hardly noticed. They were still basked in the warm afterglow of having found each other in passion and above all else, in love.

  ~

  Chapter Forty-Two ~

  Tom woke to the gentle rapping against the door to his room. He had fallen asleep in peaceful oblivion after totally spending himself in passion with his beautiful Jenna. He felt the warmth of the angel that had so recently loved him pressing into his body in the wonderful sated sleep that came after making love. He had almost thought that he would wake to find that it had been a dream as well, but as he heard the sound again, and felt the warm body of his stunning and sexy woman in his arms, Tom knew it had all been quite real. He also knew they could not be found together and so he called out, “Just a minute.”

  “Tom, it’s me.”

  Tom stood up and went to the door. He said, “Ki, what is it? Is something wrong?”

  “I just thought I should tell you, they are looking for Jenna. If she is with you, you had better make haste and get her out of there.”

  “Thanks. You’re a life saver.”

  “You’d better hurry, Tom. I’ll see you later.”

  Tom heard the footsteps of his cousin fading as she ran down the corridor. He went over to his bed and kissed Jenna’s ear gently. “Sweetheart, wake up. You have to get dressed and get out of here.”

  Jenna’s eyes flew open and she looked at Tom in alarm.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing yet, aside from me loving you. It seems people are looking for you and it would not be a good idea to have them find you naked in my bed.”

  Jenna muttered an unladylike curse and jumped out from under the covers. She grabbed at her clothes, sliding her gown haphazardly over her head. Tom tried to pull the lacing taut and she hastily finger combed her passion-tousled hair. There was no way she would be able to braid it now. She must have looked like a ravaged mess. She had been thoroughly and totally bedded by the mysterious stranger that had ever been in her dreams and if truth were to be told, she had no regrets. That is, unless she was caught in his chambers. If time was not of the essence, she would have enjoyed waking him with kisses of her own meant to seduce him.

  Tom wrapped the sheeting around his waist and he opened the door a crack to see if anyone was around. There seemed to be no one in the hallway at the moment and so he kissed Jenna and said, “I’ll see you later, alright? I love you. Now, get going before they hide both of us.”

  Jenna wrapped herself around him once more and kissed him hotly. Damn her! He was never going to be able to get those trews on again if she kept that up. He pried her off of him and laughed. “Seriously! Get out of here, Jenna. I mean it. Your father, grandfather, Uncle Erik and brother will have me skinned alive for deflowering their innocent girl. Go before you get us both killed.”

  Despite the dire circumstances, Jenna giggled. She would say she had been quite properly deflowered as Tavish had reminded her, and the memory of it made her wet all over again. She slipped out of the room and hurried to her own chambers as quickly as she could, leaving Tom in a semi-aroused state. It would only get worse if he thought about how wonderful it was to make love with her. Well, those leather trews were not going to fit him right now!

  He fumbled in the chest beside his bed and dug through the clothes that had been loaned to him. In it, he found a plaid, not unlike the one his mother had given him. MacCollum plaid; that was what he had been swaddled in when Morag had left him to the future. Well, now was as good a time as any to don the clan colors. He was skilled in fastening a kilt, because he frequently wore one when he was performing. This one would be bulkier, he supposed, because there wasn’t an actual sewn-in waist band, but Tom was pretty sure he could make it work.

  Once he was dressed, he made his way out of his chamber and went to find Kiera. He hoped she wasn’t with that peacock again. Instead, he saw Jenna speaking to her brother. He sent her a brilliant smile and watched as blush rushed up her neck. So, she was back to being shy again. No matter, she wasn’t shy where it counted and that was in his bed and as soon as he had the chance, he would be making her blush for other reasons, again.

  Tom ventured out into the courtyard and felt the chill of the early November day cross over him. He pulled the fly plaid over his shoulders. It was amazingly warm
, considering it felt like it was going to snow at any time. Tom breathed in the cool crisp air and suddenly was happier than he had ever remembered. He felt for the first time in his life like he belonged. How many times did he feel like he was a misfit despite the caring he had received from his parents? And there was something else. He was in love! It was that simple. He could not wait to touch her again. If he had the chance to love her, he would make it count as if it was to be their last time together.

  Tom’s reverie was broken by the sound of whispers. They were coming from behind one of the stables and since they did not sound to be that of clandestine lovers, Tom hid himself behind a heap of the stacked hay and listened. Whispers usually meant that something secretive was being planned. Putting aside his delicious thoughts of his afternoon spent in bed with Jenna, Tom tried to still his pounding heart so that he could hear what was being said.

  ~~~~~

  “You have dared much, McManus. You risk the entire plot by showing up here.”

  “They would never suspect me. They would think me just another one of them, here for the festivities.”

  “You are one of them.”

  “Make no mistake. A MacCollum scum I would ne’er be.”

  Tom started at the words. What was this? He slowly peaked out to see who was speaking and he cut back a gasp. It was de la Pole and someone else; someone dressed in a similar plaid as he was. It was someone who was pretending to be a MacCollum, even more than he was.

  De la Pole was not interested in the inclinations of Jerome McManus. He was only useful to fulfill his treachery. They had to act soon, because the king would be leaving in a few days. Once they were back on the gyration, the guard would be always at the king’s side so it had to be now. He just could not wait any longer. His patience had run thin. He could not stand these Scottish curs much more and another stop on the tour would mean he would have to suffer their company that much longer. No, now was the time. Once the entourage was plunged in grief at the king’s death, they would return home to England and he would vie for the position of King Regent, in the king’s stead. He was, after all, the king’s most trusted council. De la pole laughed out loud at the irony of it all.

  Jerome McManus eyed the English traitor with disdain. He had the markings of one who bordered upon madness. Jerome knew well about that. His former liege lord, Roderick Campbell was as mad as a March hare and Jerome knew when to get out of his way. This one was more calculating. He did not have the vice of drink to blame for his murdering ways, nay. He was fueled by evil intent alone. The manner of why one was mad mattered not to the likes of McManus.

  He also knew about that sort of evil because he, himself, had succumbed to the likes of its unholy call long ago. There was no telling how many bodies lay rotting, never to be found again, because of his own hand. After the first time, when he had killed that girl while he was riding her, and then dumped her body in a shallow and unmarked grave, the others that came later were nothing more than a blur. It had gotten easier over time. Anger and hatred fed his immoral demise and he embraced the lure of Satan himself long ago. It was only right that he found himself in league with the likes of Michael de la Pole.

  “Jerome, do you have everything in place?”

  McManus did not like it when de la Pole called him by his Christian name. It was condescending and he could see through de la Pole’s guise.

  “Indeed. What better day to make our kill than on the king’s day of the hunt. Why, more than one boar will meet its end on the morrow.”

  “Well, you just make certain that the royal boar is gutted by the time the hunt is over. This god-forsaken land will dump snow upon us and I fear the hunt will be called off. We must not miss this opportunity.”

  “So long as the hunt is not called off, I see no reason to fail. You have my word.”

  De la Pole laughed sinisterly. “Really, Jerome? As if your word means anything to me. Just get the job done.”

  McManus hated this man. He was so high and mighty, just like those blasted MacCollums. He would see the man destroyed; after his palms were laced with silver, of course. But once the deed was done, Jerome McManus would seek to make de la Pole pay in earnest.

  “Tomorrow, they will leave for the hunt by dawn’s light. I will appeal to the king’s sense of competitive prowess and lead him astray from the designated course. There you can do your deed.”

  “Come now, de la Pole. Do you think I shall fall for such an easy ploy? How do I know you won’t have me strung up for the deed?”

  With a sardonic smirk, de la Pole ran his hand through his greasy curls and said, “Well, you do not. Nor do I know if you will betray me, so I suppose our hands dually bloodied in this mutual deed will forge our trust. Now, do you know where the outcropping of rock hangs above the loch?”

  “Aye.”

  “T’would be the perfect spot to stick a pig, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Good then, t’will be where I shall lead Richard for the sport. Then, when all are weeping with grief for our beloved king, as his closest friend and chancellor, they shall name me King Regent in his stead. Do not think to betray me. I promise you that you shall regret it.”

  Michael de la Pole stalked off, satisfied that all was in place for his ominous plan. Jerome McManus spit in the ground after the man and grumbled a curse on his unholy head. De la Pole would pay for treating him like a mere scullery whore.

  “We shall see who is the whore when I am done, de la Pole; we shall see.”

  ~~~~~

  Tom held his breath so as to not make a sound from behind the stacks of hay. Had he actually witnessed the plot unfold to kill the king? While the information was what he had hoped to garner, now that it was laid at his feet, he was at a loss. He got a glimpse of the man whose back had been to him. He could see de la Pole’s grimace well enough, but he had no idea who this Jerome McManus was. Clearly the man hated the MacCollums, yet he wore their colors. Tom heard the man say that he probably did so in order to blend in and go virtually undetected amid the throngs of people in residence while the king visited Sir Drew’s home.

  There was something very sinister about the man. It sent a squeamish feeling through Tom’s veins and he felt like the evil was palpable. In truth, Tom did not know which of the two men was the greater criminal; de la Pole who had plotted the king’s murder or McManus who would carry out the deed. Tom knew now that he had to do something. He could not just stand by and allow the king to be targeted by those two demons from hell. He had to confide in someone, but who? He felt confident enough to hold his own now, with the use of the sword to defend himself, but could he defend the king in the process? He was still an outsider after all. There was one person he could go to. Someone who was wise and who had withstood the test of time.

  The one man who knew every member of his clan. Tom knew Morag would probably kill him if she realized what he was up to, but he had no choice. He did not know how much of history was already written because of his stay in medieval Scotland. After all, what was happening now would be nearly seven hundred years in the past by the time the stories were captured in history books. In effect, the past was the past and he was now part of it. He had no other choice.

  His heart was pounding as he tried to quiet himself enough to not draw the attention of McManus, who was still stomping around and muttering foul words to himself about de la Pole and about the entire MacCollum clan. Tom did not want to move even a muscle, lest he crunch some of the straw that lined the stalls, beneath his feet. He was not afraid of McManus, but at the moment he was unarmed and he was pretty certain he would be of no use if McManus skewered him just for the sport of it.

  Tom crouched behind the stack and tried to calm his labored breathing enough to not be heard. With the solitary tirade to no one in particular going on longer than Tom would have thought, he had to wonder if this Jerome McManus was not more than a little crazy. Sometimes people who allowed evil to rule their lives were followed by
madness. This man certainly did. Tom could feel the malevolence like a force radiating off of the man. It was rank and odious like the rot of death and it hung about him like a terrible dark cloud. There was no telling what this man had done or was capable of.

  Tom felt a pounding in his temples. He swallowed back the gasp as pain enveloped him. It was like he could see the cold blooded deeds this man had done play before him like a movie. With each horrible crime that he had committed, it seemed to have fed his depravity to the point that the man actually craved it like normal people craved love. Tom feared he would vomit on the spot and so he drew in some deep breaths through his nose and blew them out silently to not be heard. The words again rang in his head, “You are Morag’s son, after all.”

  He was not one prone to premonitions or the like, but he had just seen clearly all the chilling scenes of the carnage that Jerome McManus had left in his wake. Tom shook his head to clear his mind of what he had just been shown in visions of a terrible past.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the man finally left the stables and once Tom had determined that his exit would be safe, he carefully walked back into the keep, hoping to seek out Caleb MacCollum. Tom felt pretty sure that Caleb was used to psychic phenomena and so he could go to the man and tell him what he knew. Tom was certain about that. It was his only hope at the moment. The wise elder of the clan would know what to do.

  ~

  Chapter Forty-Three ~