Love’s Magic

by Traci E Hall

He stepped farther into the room, his steps reluctant. “Aye. I can almost remember my mother here.”

  “Sit. And tell me everything, Nicholas.” She sat on a padded bench. “There is room for you here.” She fluttered her lashes and smiled becomingly.

  He sat on a three-legged stool instead. “What is there to tell?” He stared at her with pain in his eyes. “Celestia! You do not have to act anymore. I heard what you said to your sisters this morn.”

  She blushed, thinking of how they had discussed his good looks and noble spirit. She widened her eyes. Had he heard them plan his seduction? Was he ready to say that he loved her, too? “You did?”

  “Aye.” He sighed, then folded his hands together and met her eyes. “I would offer you an annulment.”

  “You what?” What happened to poetry and flowers? Love songs? Oh, but the minstrels had it all wrong and she’d made a fool of herself, believing he had come to care for her. “I see.” She looked out the door toward the blue sky. How could the sun be shining on a day like today?

  “You released my family from any obligation to your father. You saved my brothers from the baron’s retribution. And now you want to release me from my vows. I see.” She blinked back the tears of hurt; she would not cry! It did not matter that her heart and soul were breaking. She would not lay the pieces at his feet.

  “I have the holy relic of Saint James the Apostle. The true relic. I made my father give it to me so that it could be returned to its rightful place.”

  “Oh, you are so noble, Nicholas …” her tone made an art of sarcasm.

  His black brows quirked with temper. “What say you? That I am not noble?”

  She shot to her feet and sank two inches into the plush furs. “Aye, you are noble, you are kind, you are generous, you are handsome. Well, I don’t give a fig for all of that!”

  Nicholas sat back, stunned by her ire.

  “You’re still as stupid as a rock!”

  He jumped up from the stool. “Stupid? Aye, I suppose I am stupid. I offered you an annulment so that you would have the choice to wed me or nay!” With one large step he had her in his arms. “I retract the offer, Celestia. I cannot let you go.”

  He kissed her brutally, then stepped back. “I love you, and I thought you loved me, too. But then I heard you tell your sisters that ye would rather be unwed, still.”

  Celestia licked her bruised lips, drawn to Nicholas’s display of passion like a child to a sweet. “You love me, Nicholas?” She threw herself forward and tackled him to the large white fur on the floor. She dropped kisses all over his face and hair and lips, wherever she could reach.

  Nicholas wrestled himself on top, pinning her. “You won’t leave me?”

  “My heart was yours from the moment you walked into Montehue Manor—so belligerent and confused.”

  “I was bloody well drunk! And I could not believe that they wanted me to wed someone as beautiful and fragile as you …”

  “I am not fragile, Nicholas.” She nipped his lower lip with her teeth.

  “True, you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”

  She curled her arms around his chest and linked her fingers behind his back so that he was locked to her. “Are you finally at peace with yourself, Nicholas?”

  He looked into her eyes and didn’t see the separate colors. He saw love shining at him, beckoning him to come closer. “Aye, I have found peace.” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on her inviting lips.

  She pressed forward, molding her body to his. “I’ve been a married woman for some time now, Nicholas, and yet I remain a virgin. Is it not a good time to remedy that?”

  “I …” he paused.

  “What is it?” Celestia didn’t care for the way he distanced himself from her, so she tugged at his hair and brought his gaze to hers. “Tell me.”

  “You know that I was captured.”

  “Yes! So?”

  “My body is not a pretty one … I have scars all over my back and legs.”

  “I have seen all of your scars, Nicholas. Do ye really think I care about that?” She scoffed. “Besides, I’m short. I have not the perfect body, either. But would I deny this chance at loving? Scars and—oh! Do you think I will burn you?”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you did.”

  Celestia pushed at his solid chest. “I won’t. I think your injured spirit was so much a part of the wounds that they needed to be reopened to finally heal.”

  Nicholas grabbed her hands and rolled so that she straddled him.

  “I agree. Those scars pained me. The memory of being tortured, of being violated, was a sickness inside me that festered. Thanks be to you and your love, I am healed.”

  She brought his wrists to her lips and kissed the smooth flesh there. “Does this hurt?”

  “No.”

  Celestia could feel the length of him harden beneath her thigh, and her belly warmed. She leaned over to kiss his full lips. “And that?”

  “It’s heaven, and you are my angel,” he whispered against her mouth. His hot breath made her heart skip and her pulse flutter. She pressed her breasts against his chest, her nipples aching.

  “I would not hurt you, Nicholas.” Celestia could feel the power within her build from her center and spread through her veins. She could heal an entire village, if it was true and he loved her, too.

  “I know that. I fear I will somehow hurt you, unintentionally.” He squirmed beneath her, and she clenched her thighs around his waist.

  “Nicholas, you are noble.” She kissed him again, nipping at his earlobe. She could be content to breathe in his unique scent for the rest of her days.

  His hips jerked. “'Tia, I would rather not be so noble. I want you to be my wife in truth.”

  “I thought you would never ask!”

  Nicholas groaned with lust at the eager anticipation in his wife’s eyes. “I feel like an untried lad.”

  “Then we can find our way together.”

  He stood, his hose uncomfortably tight against his throbbing groin. Nicholas’s mouth was dry, and his heart thudded against his ribcage. Finally, he could touch all of her. Caress her flesh, taste her skin. Scowling, he reminded himself to go slow, damn it, and not to hurt her.

  He shut the door to the tower and turned around, shocked to his toes to see Celestia standing in naught but her chemise and stockings. The cloth was sheer, and the sunlight through the open door showed the curve of leg and hip, the darker skin of her peaked nipples as she smiled shyly in invitation.

  With shaking fingers, he removed his tunic, then his linen shirt. She stepped toward him, her hand outstretched. He shivered as she ran her fingers over his bare chest. She walked around him, tracing a path across each scar from the lash of a whip. He bowed his head as she kissed each reminder of his captivity.

  “You’re shaking, Nicholas. Am I hurting you?”

  His voice was hoarse with need as he answered, “Nay.”

  “I am not burning you?” Her tone was cautious.

  “Aye, I am burning, but not in a way that hurts.” He turned around and caught her in his arms. “Soon you will be burning in the same manner as I.”

  He kissed her deeply, and her arms wrapped themselves around his neck. She pressed her breasts into his chest, and he caught her up and placed her on the bed.

  He laid her down on the soft, feather-filled comforter and kneeled beside her. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her nose. That stubborn chin. “I love you, ‘Tia.”

  She sat up and trustingly allowed him to remove her chemise. “And I you, Nicholas.” She lay back, expecting him to join her on the bed.

  Instead he went to her feet and removed her delicate slippers with their happy little bells. He kissed her toes, encased in sheer stockings. He laved his way up the back of her legs and untied the laces at her knees with his teeth. He pulled them down, caressing her calves as he went.

  Celestia’s face was flushed, her chest heaving. “I am getting most warm, Nicholas …”


  He grinned, his teeth white in his swarthy face. “I would hope to have you hot.” He ran his hands up her thighs and across her midriff. Everywhere he touched with his hands, he placed a kiss.

  She shied as he hovered over the nest of blond curls at the apex of her legs. She jumped as he touched her woman’s place. “Are you supposed to do that?”

  “Aye, Celestia. And this.” His fingers parted the folds of her flesh, and his thumb stroked the tight pearl inside.

  She moaned. He applied a touch more pressure, the pad of his thumb flicking the bud. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, she clutched at Nicholas’s shoulders. He lifted her knees, and replaced his thumb with his tongue.

  “Nicholas!” She sat up. “I have never heard of this before.” Her eyes were panicked and her skin slick.

  “Trust me, ‘Tia.” He flicked the pearl with his tongue and inserted a single finger inside her, stretching her, preparing her body for his. He moved his finger in sure, rapid motions and felt her body tense as she reached climax.

  She screamed her satisfaction. He let her catch her breath as he traced circular patterns over her belly.

  “Nicholas? I never thought—” She tried to cover her body, suddenly shy.

  “Oh, no, my little angel, we are not through yet.”

  “Hmmm, there’s more …”

  He gestured toward his erection, evident beneath his tight-fitting hose.

  “I didn’t realize you were still clothed.” She got to her knees. “You distracted me,” she accused with a laugh, determined to use the same care on him that he had lavished on her while removing her chemise.

  Keeping her eyes averted from his groin, she shyly peeled his leggings from him, revealing muscled thighs and strong calves.

  “What’s this?”

  “Nothing, a slash. Petyr caught me with the tip of his sword.”

  “But Nicholas, I can heal this.” She didn’t wait, but tucked her feet beneath her bare bottom and hovered her hands over the gash. Heat spilled readily from her fingertips, and Nicholas groaned in pleasure. She concentrated on knitting the skin, caressing the area with featherlight touches until the flesh was smooth.

  Then she moved her hands, still hot and sensitive, up and down the rest of his leg. “My gift is back,” she said with amazement, feeling the air crackle with energy.

  “Magic—you never lost it, for I loved you always.”

  “You did?” She looked up from where she’d been massaging his calf, then sat back in surprise as his manhood rose from the triangle of black curls between his thighs.

  She swallowed, her breath caught in her throat.

  “That is supposed to fit inside of me?”

  Nicholas gave her a masculine look as old as Adam. “Aye, with great pleasure, if done properly.”

  “All right, Nicholas. Would you have me kiss it?”

  Nicholas’s smug look left his face. He kissed her on the lips, placing his hips close to hers. “I would not last to take your virginity. Men are not fashioned as women; it takes them some time to climax again.”

  Her eyes were pools of sensual promise. “But would you not like it?”

  His member throbbed against her leg. “Aye. Mayhap too well is what I am trying to say. Can you not feel my desire for you?”

  She nodded and reached down between their bodies. She closed her warm hand around his girth, and stroked the length of him. “You make my blood soar like a falcon in flight.”

  Nicholas’s dark gray eyes turned black with passion, and he traced the column of her throat to the point where her pulse beat madly.

  She nibbled her lower lip and ran her thumb over the moist tip of his penis. “'Tis like costly velvet.” A drop of moisture formed, and her body hummed. “I am getting warm again, Nicholas.” She smiled and arched against his leg, his manhood firmly in her hand.

  They kissed, their tongues twisting and tasting one another. She couldn’t stop touching him. Finally, after all this time, he was hers to love. Celestia pressed her aching breasts into Nicholas, who caressed first one, then the other. He took a nipple between his teeth and tugged, sending a spiral of desire through Celestia’s belly.

  “They are perfect, ‘Tia. Round and firm.” He suckled the other breast until she was on fire, throbbing with anticipation. When he flipped her to her back, she eagerly spread her legs to allow Nicholas between them. He positioned his manhood, teasing her opening with the moist tip of his penis. “It may hurt this first time, ‘Tia, but only for a moment. You are ready for me, and I for you.”

  He thrust inside, his mouth capturing her shocked cry. He was sheathed in warmth, and his arms shook with effort to stay still.

  He looked down at Celestia’s face.

  Disappointment warred with her earlier satiation. She said smartly, “I see why you wait to tell a woman that it will hurt, Nicholas. I might not have done it, otherwise.” She sniffed, as if he had tricked her on purpose.

  He kissed her damp forehead and moved his hips slightly. Her eyes flew open. He rocked his hips, slowly, but with great precision. “Never?”

  She moved with him, feeling desire build with each thrust until her entire body was burning with need. She threw back her head, allowing Nicholas access to the sensitive column of her throat; he nibbled and kissed her as she held his hips to her body with her knees. “Nicholas, ‘tis hot! Very hot!”

  Being the noble man that he was, he pushed forward to put out the flame, sending both of them flying with pleasure to heaven and back.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Two

  Nicholas held Celestia in his arms, watching her as she dozed. He had never been so content in his life. She opened one eye in a languid manner. “I can feel you stare … Are you disappointed, Nicholas?”

  He laughed. “I was simply wondering how I could deserve such a treasure.” He pinched her bottom.

  “Ow! This is how you treat your treasures?”

  Nicholas caressed the injured cheek. “I was assuring myself that you were real.”

  She placed her hand at the juncture of his thighs, her fingers in the ebony curls at the base. His member pulsed against her hand, and she snuggled closer. “Methinks there is at least one part of you that knows this is no dream, my lord.”

  He pulled her on top of him, content to have her so. For a fleeting instant he recalled Leah, then he firmly, and forever, banished her from his mind. He put his hands on the sides of his beloved wife’s face and claimed her soft lips. “You’ve healed me, ‘Tia.”

  Celestia smiled a mysterious smile and slid atop his seeking manhood. “It certainly feels like magic to me, Nicholas.”

  It was some time later that the door to the tower flew open with a bang. The tower walls shook, and plaster fell from the ceiling. Nicholas wrapped the linen cover around Celestia and protected her from sight with his body.

  Grainne Kat stalked in carrying a short sword in her hands. “Ye’ve defiled the tower!”

  Nicholas scrabbled for his hose, which lay puddled on the floor with his undershirt. He slipped them on, tossing Celestia her tunic.

  “What right have you to barge in on my wife and me in my own bloody keep?” His fury was as cold and clipped as his voice, hiding the fear he had for Celestia.

  “What right? I have kept this tower sacred for nigh on twenty years! This is the Lady Esmerada’s tower, and she detests strangers.”

  “I am no stranger; I am her son.”

  “Pah! She didn’t want you.” Grainne Kat thrust the sword at him. “Why do ye think she sent ye away?”

  Nicholas eyed the round tower room, calculating a way out. The wise woman’s hatred was cold, and it sapped the warm energy within. Celestia donned her kirtle and slid her hand into his.

  “She lies,” Celestia said softly, noting the chill of the room just as a gust of air blew in from the battlements. She rubbed her arms. The chill settled at the nape of her neck.

  Nay! Not a time for visions she thought. Stepping closer to Nicholas, s
he thought to protect him from this madwoman who’d been jealous of Nicholas his entire life.

  Suddenly, Celestia was one with the vision. She was not alone in her body or mind. Frightened, she opened her mouth.

  “Viperous, vile woman! Get ye gone from here.”

  Celestia recognized the voice as that of Nicholas’s mother.

  Nicholas dropped her hand and backed away, staring at her in disbelief. Grainne Kat’s wrinkled face paled.

  Celestia found her hand being raised, her finger pointed at Grainne. “Ye’ve caused enough harm to this family; let them find peace. Yer son is dead, Kat, did ye know?”

  Grainne’s sword dropped point down into the floor of the chamber, and she leaned heavily against it. “Joseph?”

  “’Twas yer bitterness toward the baron that has caused all of this unhappiness. I had forgiven, Kat, why could ye not?” The voice that came from Celestia’s mouth was soft and deep with a Scottish brogue. “I loved Robbie MacIntosh, ‘tis true. Just as you loved his brother. We would have been sisters. Piuthars.”

  Grainne’s anger flashed from her wrinkled face. “I canna listen to ya! Ye forgot all about Robbie and revenge once ye held yer bairn in yer arms. This was our keep! For the clan, and yet you let it lie.”

  “Yer anger was always dangerous, Kat. ”

  Nicholas’s dark gray eyes grew damp and stormy as he listened to the byplay. He held out his hand to her, well, to his mother, and Celestia let their fingertips touch.

  “Machair?”

  “Nicholas!” The voice was filled with love and sorrow, then another wind gust racked the room, knocking against the tapestries along the wall.

  Celestia wobbled weakly, bereft of the force inside.

  Nicholas enclosed her in his arms, keeping her safe against his hard chest.

  Celestia, her voice once again her own, said accusingly to Kat, “You are the Lady Katherine. The friend who took care of the Lady Esmerada as she went mad from grief. The woman who sent Nicholas away.”

  Celestia’s brow furrowed, and she pushed away from Nicholas. Her body shook with indignant anger. “You have lied all along—Lady Esmerada loved her son, I know that as if she were still alive.” She placed one hand alongside her head. “I had thought I was dreaming, but Nicholas, your mother came to me when I was so sick from Grainne’s poison. She told me—” Celestia stopped, confused. What had the kind woman whispered to her?