Medieval Mistletoe - One Magical Christmas Season

by Laurel O'Donnell

  They were home. Together. At last.

  “I’m sorry, love,” he said.

  Arbella glanced up at her husband. His jaw was clenched and he gazed into the fire with a furrowed brow.

  “What are you sorry for?”

  He turned toward her, anguish on his face. “I should have stayed behind, protected ye. Should have realized it was a trap.”

  “But how were you to know? You did the right thing going home to protect our children. Aliah and I were able to fend for ourselves.” She reached up and swiped a hair from his forehead. “Dinna fash, love,” she teased him, using his brogue, and lifted up to press a kiss to the dimple in his chin.

  He pressed two fingers to her chin and gazed into her eyes, his lips brushing tenderly over hers. “I canna help it. If I lost ye…”

  “Shh… Let us not even talk about it.”

  “Och, lass, but I have to tell ye. Even after all these years, I’ve not lost love for ye. If anything, I love ye more. I live and breathe to see your face, to see ye pleased.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto his lap, his forehead pressing to hers. “They could have killed ye.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “It could have been ye who fell from that horse.”

  “But it wasn’t. Though, if I could, I would have taken the pain away from my sister.”

  Magnus’ eyelids dipped closed. “I know ye would. As much as it pains me that ye would have done that. Ye’re a noble woman. A giving woman. The clan, myself, my family, we are all so lucky to have ye.”

  Arbella reached to touch his face, the rough stubble on his cheek tickling her palms. “Coming to Scotland changed my life irrevocably for the better. I would have it no other way. I’m the luckiest Sassenach alive.” A teasing smile curved her lips. “Now kiss me like you did in the woods near the mistletoe.”

  “Och, wicked lass, I can do better than that.” Magnus laid her down on the fur, his lips grazing over hers in the teasing way that made her tremble and gasp, yearning for more.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs parting as he laid her back and settled between them. Already the evidence of his arousal pressed to her center sending shivers of delicious anticipation racing through her.

  The chill she’d felt in the woods was replaced with an intense heat that only surged to fiery levels when Magnus deepened their kiss. Tongue stroking tongue. Hands caressing flesh. He reached for the hem of her gown, sliding it from her calf over her knee, exposing her skin to the heat of his touch one slow inch at a time.

  “I’m still amazed at how soft your skin is,” he said against her lips.

  Arbella threaded her fingers through his hair, tilting her hips to get a better sense of the hard length of him pressing so tantalizingly against the apex of her thighs.

  “Undress me,” she murmured.

  “Without question,” he answered.

  Magnus leaned back on his heels and slid her gown up over her thighs to her hip, exposing the sensitive skin of her sex. He stared hungrily down at her.

  “Magnus,” she whimpered, her channel slick and quivering.

  He slid a finger gently over her folds. Her legs fell to the side, and she gasped.

  “You tease me mercilessly,” she accused.

  “Aye, love. I enjoy watching the way ye react to me.”

  Arbella leaned up on one elbow, reaching with her opposite side to the turgid shaft lifting the front of his plaid. She grazed her fingers over the fabric, feeling his cock leap beneath her touch. Magnus’ lips parted, eyes gone heady, lids drooping.

  “Ye tease me, as well, wife.”

  “I’m nothing if not fair.” She smiled mischievously as she flicked up the fabric and wrapped her fingers around his solid flesh.

  A soft moan escaped her lips. Touching, kissing, making love—it never grew old, if anything their passion grew as the years passed and they learned to explore each other more and more.

  A sudden surge of emotion pressed in on her. “I love you,” she said.

  Magnus tore at his clothes, ripping his shirt in the process, whipping his belt from his hips. “I love ye so very much.”

  Arbella tugged at her gown, getting stuck in the sleeves and hearing the wrenching of fabric as Magnus helped to swiftly divest it. Naked, breathing hard, he fell toward her as she leaned up, their bodies crashing together in a sudden fevered state.

  Mouths pressed hard together, she skimmed her tongue over his lower lip, sucked the slick flesh into her mouth. Magnus growled, gripped his cock and slid it along the dampened, pulsing flesh of her sex. Saints but she wanted him. He thrust deep inside and she cried out, arching her spine, nails scaling down his back. Arbella gripped his buttocks, tugging him closer, deeper. She bucked upward, completely losing herself in this moment, in her husband’s body, his passion, his protection.

  They’d overcome a major battle, the threats to their lives and for the time being were safely ensconced in Dunrobin. Secure behind the walls of their castle and within each other’s embrace.

  Magnus thrust deep and hard, pulled out to tease her and slowly pressed back inside. She met him thrust for thrust, placing fevered kisses along his neck and shoulder. He gripped one of her hips in his large grasp, the other hand kneading her breast, thumb swiping over her nipple.

  “I love your body… Love every damned inch of ye,” he growled. He skimmed his teeth over her neck, down over her collarbone and chest until he captured one turgid nipple. Biting down gently, he teased her sensitive flesh with his tongue.

  Arbella panted, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. By the saints, the pleasure her husband could bring her was otherworldly. She felt as though she’d floated off into the sky, to some special corner of the heavens where physical pleasure was demanded and happily given. Her core tightened and shivers raced over her skin. If he kept at this pace, if he quickened…

  Oh, god’s bones, but he quickened his pace. The muscles of her sex clenched tight, gripping the length of his cock and drawing him deeper before pushing him out again.

  “Magnus…” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t voice her pleasure. Her throat tightened, the only sound allowed to escape were the intermittent moans between gasps.

  “Arbella, my love. God, I love ye.” He plunged inside her faster, harder, both hands on her hips now, holding her to him, their pelvises clashing.

  She gripped tight to his shoulders, leaning up to capture his lips with hers and kissed him with all the passion she had winding up inside her. The moment his tongue stroked over hers, her body shattered, quaking in a storm of waves. She cried out into his mouth and Magnus roared out his own pleasure, driving all the way to the hilt.

  Collapsing backward, Magnus rolled to the side, and tugged her into his embrace, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “That was amazing,” he said, then stroked his fingertips over her ribs and just below her navel. “Ye feel different.”

  Arbella smiled up at him, gripped his hand to lay it on the small knot of her belly. “I wanted to wait to tell you, but I cannot. You’re to be a father again.”

  Magnus grinned first and let out a whoop of excitement, he kissed her heartily, but then he pulled back to admonish her for putting herself at risk when she was in such a vulnerable state. Arbella rolled her eyes.

  “’Haps I needed one last adventure before I was confined abed,” she said.

  “Hmm… I think it best if ye never have this type of adventure again.”

  Arbella shrugged and smiled, teasing him only because the peril was over and they were safe once more. “Aye, well, I admit to it not going exactly as I’d planned.”

  “Och, that’s an understatement.” Magnus proceeded to tickle her, then kiss her until neither one of them could recall just exactly why they ever left their chamber.

  “CEUD mìle fàilte!” Magnus roared to the filled great hall of Dunrobin Castle.

  He sat at the head of the great table, the entire Sutherland clan, including cousi
ns, aunts and uncles taking up the benches all the way down. A thick snow had begun to fall just days following the incident with Ina and Marmaduke—a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the fools would not be inclined to try another attack, and a curse because though Magnus loved his family, there was every actuality that they’d remain at Dunrobin for at least a fortnight.

  “A hundred thousand thanks!” Ronan bellowed from just a few seats away, his mug lifted high in the air, and a grin from ear to ear.

  Magnus was beyond thrilled to see everyone together again. Ronan and Julianna had arrived that morning with their young adopted son Tad in tow. Aliah had managed to come down from her bed against Blane’s wishes. Their children sat at a table to the right with Magnus and Arbella’s own brood and his sister Lorna’s issue. Lorna and Jamie sat to his left, beside them were Heather and Duncan. Heather looked extremely uncomfortable—her face pale and the usual vigor she had for life seemed drained. When he’d made a comment, Heather had snarled and Duncan took him aside to warn him that his dear wife had been quite uncomfortable throughout her pregnancy and at any moment may gather weapons, an army and set to war against herself. Magnus had clamped his lips closed and asked his wife to step in instead.

  Aunt Fiona had arrived with their cousin Daniel and his wife Myra. Myra’s belly was swelled with child, and Daniel threatened they may stay through the birth, which of course thrilled Arbella beyond words. Daniel’s threats were echoed by Duncan, a plea in the man’s eyes to make it so. Magnus could only laugh. Hell, he’d been through it three times already and had another on the way. The men would make it through, but it was bloody funny watching them suffer as he had the first time Arbella had been with child.

  Brandon and his wife Marianna had arrived the previous morning. Their twins were running amuck in the kitchen, and had been banished to the nursery until the celebration feast. Though they’d been punished before, they were now picking off pieces of their brown bread and throwing it at each other. Every time Brandon or Marianna looked their way they stilled innocently and smiled as though nothing had happened. Devious little mice they were. Magnus’ own children stared wide-eyed, and one swift word from Arbella had quelled any desire to follow in their cousins’ footsteps.

  Magnus raised his ale in the air, and was about to speak when Aunt Fiona stood up from the table, approached the mischievous children and whispered words he’d probably heard as a child. Their antics stopped immediately and he couldn’t help a nostalgic smile. They could always count on Aunt Fiona to set things to rights.

  He raised his ale again after his aunt took her seat. “We are so grateful all of ye could join us once more to celebrate the holiday season. Winter is upon us, and we celebrate Yuletide this evening! We’ve a Yule log on the fire that will burn for days, holly and mistletoe to bless our harvest and our growing families, great food for feasting and whisky, well, because we love it!”

  “Here, here!” Blane called out.

  “We welcome in longer nights,” he wiggled his brows at Arbella who dutifully blushed, “and shorter days. May the winter let us rest our weary bones, for come the spring there will be many duties and responsibilities we resume.”

  Arbella stood beside him, sliding her hand around the small of his back. Switching his mug to his other hand, he slung his arm over her shoulder.

  “You are all welcome to stay as long as you wish!” she said.

  Magnus held in his groan, and instead bent to kiss his wife soundly, not something he normally did in front of everyone, but truth be told, he feared she’d invite them all to stay for the whole of winter.

  The great hall broke out into a resounding cheer. Magnus and Arbella pulled away from each other to smile.

  “Sutherlands!” he bellowed to the rafters.

  “Good health and every good blessing to ye!” one of his brothers bellowed.

  “To us all,” Arbella cried out. She turned her gaze back to Magnus. “And long may it be that our enemies retreat, for I’ve need of my husband to warm my bed these dark winter nights.”

  Magnus pressed his lips to her ears. “I’ll drink heartily to that, love, and to our guests retiring early so I might make good on my promise.”

  “What promise?”

  “Ye’ll just have to wait and see…”

  Six months later…

  Magnus paced the great hall of Dunrobin, sweat trickling down his spine and his dirk gripped hard in his fist.

  “Brother, put down the weapon.”

  Another shriek of pain sounded from upstairs and he had to fight to keep from running up the stairs and bursting through the doors.

  Magnus shook his head. He couldn’t take his eyes from the stairs, waiting for someone to run down with bad news. The birthing of their third child had put a lot of strain on Arbella. She’d taken months to recover. He worried this babe—a rather large one at that—would prove too much for her altogether. “I’m going up. I canna stand it any longer. The midwife is killing her!”

  Blane chuckled, the audacity of the man! It only made Magnus growl harder.

  “They are nay killing her man, she’s doing all that is natural.”

  “Natural, my arse! The last of ‘em nearly killed her.” He stared up at the rafters and prayed, Lord let her live and I swear I’ll never bed her again! ’Twould be torture given his intense desire for his wife, but for her sake, for her life, he would do it.

  Blane held out his hands and took steady steps forward, as though he were approaching a wounded and raging animal. Well, in all actuality, Magnus could be seen as such, but he didn’t want to be. He glanced down at the blade and his white knuckles. ’Haps he should put it down and go about this calmly. Didn’t help matters that he was raging, and yet the burning in his chest and belly couldn’t be helped. He was bloody scared he’d lose his wife.

  “I’m going up,” Magnus said, calmer this time. He handed the blade to his brother.

  Blane took the dirk, hooking it through his belt, but then held out his hand again. “The sword?”

  Magnus shook his head. He wasn’t going to give up his sword. That was like asking him to take off his left arm.

  “If I allow ye go up there, then ye need to give up all your weapons. Your wife is in enough of an mood, ye’ll not was to anger her with arriving in her birthing chamber fully armed.”

  He took acceptation to his brother saying allow, but decided to let it go. With a groan, he handed over the sword and the short blades up his sleeves, and the others in his boots. “I think mood is putting it lightly.”

  “Magnus!”

  He whirled around in time to see Aliah, the front of her gown soggy with what looked like blood, her eyes wide.

  “Jesus, no,” he whispered, knees buckling.

  “’Tis twins!” she yelped, her face splitting into a wide grin. “A boy and a girl!”

  “Arbella?” His voice came out strangled, and his lips had gone numb with worry.

  “Perfect! Come and see them.” With that Aliah ran back up the stairs.

  Magnus stood a moment staring at the spot she’d been in before.

  “Well, are ye going?” Blane asked.

  He stared blankly at his brother, trying to still the race of his heart. He’d been so certain Aliah brought bad news; just the thought of it had sent his mind into a tailspin. But Arbella was fine. Perfect! Had birthed twins.

  “Aye. Aye.” He lifted one foot and then the other, forcing himself to move his numb and shaking legs.

  By the time he’d gotten to the top of the stairs he was running full speed down the corridor. He burst through the door and was greeted with his beautiful wife’s smile, a darling blond-headed babe in each arm.

  “Magnus,” Arbella said, her voice sounding tired, but strong. “Look at our new babes.”

  In two strides he was in the room, his lips on hers and then he placed a kiss to each of their heads. “I love ye so much,” he whispered to her. “I feared so much for ye while ye labored.”

&n
bsp; Arbella’s grin did not falter. “I know you did. I wish you could have come in here with me.”

  “Aye, but I’m afraid I never will again.”

  “Why?” She leaned down to press a kiss to the bairns’ heads while Magnus undid the swaddle just enough to kiss their perfect, tiny toes.

  “Well, as fate would have it, I prayed ye’d make it safe through the birthing and if it be so that I’d never bed ye again.”

  A throaty laugh escaped her. “Och, warrior, what a silly man ye are,” she teased, copying his brogue. “I guess the bedding will be all up to me.” She leaned a little closer. “I rather like it when I get to be in charge.”

  Magnus raised his eyebrows. How had he ever gotten so lucky?

  Eliza Knight is the multi-published, award-winning, national bestselling indie author of sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and one very naughty puppy. Visit Eliza at elizaknight.com, or her historical blog History Undressed

  Join her on Facebook as either ElizaKnightAuthor or ElizaKnightFiction. You can also tweet her at @ElizaKnight.

  Also Available by Eliza Knight

  RULES OF CHIVALRY SERIES

  A Lady’s Charade

  A Knight’s Victory

  THE STOLEN BRIDE SERIES

  The Highlander’s Reward – Book One

  The Highlander’s Conquest – Book Two

  The Highlander’s Lady – Book Three

  The Highlander’s Warrior Bride – Book Four

  The Highlander’s Triumph – Book Five

  Men of the Sea Series:

  Her Captain Returns

  Her Captain Surrenders