Highlander Lord of Fire

by Donna Fletcher

  “I am Cleric Norman and I have a dire message from Abbot Bennett that you must adhere to immediately,” the cleric ordered with an air of superiority. “And she,” —he pointed to Snow—“must leave. This is a discussion for men alone.”

  Tarass didn’t respond. He walked his wife to a chair near the hearth and after he helped her sit, he turned to the cleric. “You do not enter my home and make demands of me.” He approached the cleric in strong strides. “And never, ever, think you can dictate to me when it comes to my wife. Now you will deliver your message and I will give you my response in the morning at which time you will take your leave from my home.”

  Snow heard the well-deserved quiver in the cleric’s voice when next he spoke.

  “I was given orders to remain here and see that Abbot Bennett’s message is adhered to until his arrival.”

  “What makes you think that I would adhere to anything Abbot Bennett has to say when barbaric blood runs through me?” Tarass asked, turning a glare on the man that was meant to frighten. And it did.

  Cleric Norman visibly began to tremble. “Think of Mistress Snow and what it would mean to her reputation if you refused to obey the Abbot.”

  “Why don’t you tell us the message, Cleric Norman, then I can decide whether my reputation is threatened,” Snow said.

  She didn’t see his eyes turn wide, but she certainly heard how her words affronted him.

  “That is not for you to decide,” Cleric Norman chastised.

  “No, it is me, her husband, to decide,” Tarass snapped sharply.

  “You are not her husband, Lord Tarass,” Cleric Norman said, taking a step away from him. “Abbot Bennett’s message will explain it all and why it is necessary for you to immediately comply with his demand.”

  “Tell us,” Snow said before her husband could explode with fury, since her own ire had mounted his had to be near to exploding.

  “Aye, my wife is right, tell us,” Tarass ordered curtly.

  “The cleric that wed you did not know that Lord Tarass is not a Christian, in which case it invalidates your marriage,” Cleric Norman said as if those few words were an explanation in itself. “Abbot Bennett had hoped that perhaps you hadn’t consummated the invalid vows, but if you have then he orders you to cease from committing any further sin. Lord Polwarth has graciously agreed to honor his commitment to Snow and wed her so that her reputation remains unsoiled. Abbot Bennett will arrive in a few days to escort Snow to Lord Polwarth’s home where they will wed and this unfortunate matter will be laid to rest.”

  Snow stood so quickly that it startled the cleric.

  “I will agree to no such nonsense. I am Lord Tarass’s wife, our vows properly exchanged and sealed many times over.”

  Cleric Norman gasped.

  “Not you, Cleric Norman, nor Abbot Bennett, or Lord Polwarth will take that from me,” Snow warned. “I remain Lord Tarass’s wife not only until the day I die, but beyond that.”

  “I’ll reiterate what my wife said,” Tarass said, proud of the way his wife had spoken up and also made it clear she would remain his wife. “We are husband and wife and nothing will ever change that.”

  “You would live in sin? Ruin this innocent woman?” Cleric Norman asked outraged.

  “Abbot Bennett can validate the ceremony that was performed with the blessings of the church or if it’s another ceremony that would please you, I will join hands with my wife in the old ways of my mum’s people.”

  Cleric Norman gasped loudly “You would partake in a pagan ceremony?”

  “Let me make this simple for you, Cleric Norman,” Tarass said, going to his wife and locking fingers with hers to hold up their clenched hands for him to see clearly. “My wife and I are bound together forever and no man, no force, nothing will part us.” He lowered their hands to rest between them. “Tomorrow you will return to the monastery and deliver that message to Abbot Bennett.”

  “You mean to openly defy Abbot Bennett’s orders?” Cleric Norman asked in disbelief.

  “You said it yourself. I’m not Christian so I am not obligated to follow his orders,” Tarass said. “Now you will excuse us while we retire to our bedchamber. A servant will see you fed and a bed provided for you.”

  “Mistress Snow, you are a Christian. You can’t mean to defy Abbot Bennett and go sin with this man,” Cleric Norman said affronted once more.

  Snow couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “Loving my husband and making love with him is no sin, Cleric Norman, though enjoying it as much as I do might be.”

  Tarass stifled his chuckle as he watched Cleric Norman’s eyes look about to pop out of his head in shock. There had been times Snow’s unruly tongue had frustrated him. This wasn’t one of them.

  “I will report this to Abbot Bennett,” Cleric Norman threatened.

  “Do as you please, Cleric Norman,” Snow said, “I answer to only one man… my husband.”

  Tarass went to the door and opened it, calling out for a servant.

  Maude entered and bobbed her head.

  “See that the cleric is fed and shelter provided for him, but not in the keep,” Tarass ordered.

  Cleric Norman followed the servant out, though not without complaint and warning that they both would be answering to Abbot Bennett for refusing to comply with church doctrine.

  Tarass paid him no heed. He said nothing until he and his wife were climbing the stairs to their bedchamber. “So you answer only to your husband?”

  Snow chuckled as Thaw guided her up the stairs by the hem of her tunic.

  Tarass followed behind, glad to see the pup continuing to learn how to help Snow.

  “When I deem it wise to do so,” Snow said with another chuckle.

  Tarass said nothing more until they entered their bedchamber and Thaw trotted off, after getting a rub and kiss from Snow, to curl up by the hearth for the night.

  “This is not going to go away easily,” Tarass said, placing his hands at her waist and turning her to face him.

  Snow fell gently against her husband, her arms going around his waist. “I didn’t think it would, but our love is worth fighting for, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t think… I know it is,” he said, “but what I know more is that I want you naked in our bed so I can make endless love to you.”

  It wasn’t only that he couldn’t get enough of making love to his wife, it was that the more he made love to her, the more he buried himself deep inside her, the more he laid claim to her, the more she became his, the more they became one, then no one—not the heavens themselves—could separate them.

  Snow’s stomach spoke up before she could, grumbling loudly.

  Tarass laughed, though disappointment jabbed at him. “It seems there is another part of you that needs feeding first.”

  “Food can wait. I want you,” Snow said, running her hand down along his plaid to hastily slip beneath it and take hold of his engorged manhood to gently squeeze and stroke.

  “Snow,” he said in a taut warning, knowing he needed to stop her but not wanting to. Her small hand felt so good teasing him with playful tugs and enflaming him even more with her innocent touch, though there was no innocence in her touch.

  “I never dreamed I would love the feel of your manhood, but I can’t seem to get enough of it,” she said in a breathy whisper.

  “It’s all yours to touch any time you want,” he said, thinking it might not have been wise to tell her that since his wife’s touch brought him much too close to climax, much too fast.

  Her stomach betrayed her and rumbled again.

  Tarass snarled beneath his breath, though he was sure his wife heard it. “You need to eat first.”

  “You were quick once last night in the middle of the night. Can’t we do that now and then take our time later?” she asked eagerly.

  “You are a dream come true wife,” he said and hoisted her off her feet to carry her to the bed and drop her down on it.

  She was quick to spread her leg
s and hoist her garments as was he to push his plaid aside and fall between her legs to enter her easily, being she was so wet and ready for him.

  He tried to restrain himself, hold back his climax, after only a few strong thrusts. Damn, but his wife could make him lose control, something he’d never done. Never had he barely entered a woman and climaxed, but his wife’s playful manner, whether teasing words or touches, enflamed his passion to the point of no control. And he was there now so close, so ready, so eager to burst with pleasure. But was his wife?

  “Snow,” he all but growled, fighting to keep control as he felt her clench him tight when he plunged into her again and again and again. He threw back his head and moaned in sweet agony.

  That did it for Snow. She couldn’t see his face, but hearing him moan, un his need told her what she couldn’t see. He was ready and she was relieved since she couldn’t hold on another minute.

  “Now, Tarass, now!” she cried out in her own sweet groan.

  Tarass let out a roar that Snow feared the whole keep heard or perhaps he wanted it heard, particularly by Cleric Norman. And she joined him, not the least bit concerned who heard either of them. Besides, she couldn’t help it, her climax was so undeniably pleasurable. And each time she felt him release, his seed spill into her, she prayed a seed would take root and a bairn would grow from their love.

  Tarass dropped down on her, spent from a climax that left him completely satiated and more than ever in love with his wife, something he still found surprising and sometimes terrifying. Never had he expected to find love and perhaps the terror that he could lose her was the reason why he thought he’d never love. He didn’t want to deal with the God-awful pain of losing someone you loved.

  The thought of Lord Polwarth actually taking Snow from him not only infuriated him, but terrified him as well. Not that he would ever let it happen, but then he had not been able to protect his parents from being killed.

  He would not lose his wife. He would take her away to his mum’s land and people and live there if necessary. He would let no one take her from him.

  Snow’s gurgling stomach had Tarass rolling off her to lay beside her, his hand reaching out to lace his fingers with hers.

  Snow sighed contented and locked her slim fingers with his strong ones, needing to be joined with him one way or another.

  “You need to eat, wife,” Tarass said, his breath beginning to calm.

  “Aye, we’ll eat and then be ready to make love again,” she said with a soft sigh, the last tingle of climax fading away.

  Tarass turned on his side to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her bottom lip plump from biting back some of her moans, and passion still lingered in her lovely green eyes. She was a beautiful woman, even more so after making love.

  “I please you that much, wife, that you can’t get enough of me?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

  Snow reached out and rested her hand against his jaw. “You please me so much, husband, that I truly feel you will grow tired of me making demands on you.”

  Tarass turned his face into her hand, his lips faintly brushing along her palm before he kissed it, sending a brief quiver through her. “I can put your fear to rest, my dear wife, since that shall never happen.”

  “You say that now, but—”

  Tarass kissed her silent. “No buts, wife. If anything, it will be you who grows tired of my demands.”

  Snow giggled. “Would you care to wager on that?”

  He laughed along with her. “I don’t think that’s wise, since we may kill each other trying to win the wager.”

  “Or we may have a gaggle of bairns,” she said, the thought pleasing her.

  Tarass smiled, favoring the thought, though her rumbling stomach had him responding to that. “Time to eat.”

  Snow grabbed his arm when he let go of her hand and went to move off the bed. “Tarass.”

  He didn’t like the worry he saw on her face that only moments ago was wearing a smile.

  “Whatever happens, I want you to know that my love for you grows stronger with every minute and every hour of the day, and no one will ever take my love for you from me.”

  His heart swelled with joy hearing how much she loved him, but his stomach clenched with worry that she sounded as if she feared she would be taken from him.

  He leaned over and kissed her gently. “I’m glad your love for me grows as rapidly and strong as mine for you. And if I must remind you every day for the rest of our days that I will never let anyone take you from me, then I will. You are mine, wife, now and always.”

  Tarass held his wife’s hand as he guided her to the dais in the Great Hall the next morning. He and Snow were looking forward to sending Cleric Norman on his way and was disappointed when they found him absent from the hall.

  “He hasn’t been seen yet,” Maude told Tarass when he asked her about the cleric. “He was shown to a cottage, but complained about Ann’s screams. Her first birth wasn’t an easy one. The cottage he occupied was next to hers.”

  “Is she and the bairn well?” Snow asked with haste.

  Maude smiled. “She and the tiny lad does well, m’lady.”

  “And the cleric?” Tarass asked, a pang of worry stabbing at him at the thought of Snow screaming in agony to deliver their bairn. He didn’t know if he’d be able to abide hearing his wife suffer in so much pain.

  “He insisted on being moved as far away from the screams as possible, my lord,” Maude said. “He was placed in the only other available cottage.”

  “Gilbert’s cottage,” Tarass said, thinking of the seasoned warrior that had passed peacefully in his sleep while he had been away.

  Thaw’s bark alerted Snow to his return, Nettle having taken the pup outside after Tarass had forbid Snow from rushing out of bed this morning. She had been glad, since he had teased her body, all of it, senseless with kisses that had her exploding in not one but two climaxes.

  “The snow turned heavy overnight and hasn’t stopped,” Nettle said, shaking the snow from her cloak, Thaw doing the same, giving a good shake, before approaching the dais.

  Thaw ran around to the back of the dais to hop up and place his front paws on Snow’s leg.

  She rubbed him and kissed him and told him how much she loved him. Then asked him if he was hungry.

  Thaw dropped to his butt and barked.

  “I’ll see Thaw gets fed, m’lady,” Nettle said.

  Hearing that, Thaw ran barking to Nettle and followed her to the kitchen.

  “If I were a jealous man, I would think you loved that pup more than me,” Tarass said.

  “But you’re not, you’re a wise man who knows that while my heart is overflowing with love for you, it still has room to love others.”

  Tarass brought his face close to hers and nibbled on her ear before saying, “You measure your words well, wife.”

  Gooseflesh ran over Snow and she scrunched her shoulders as his nibbles continued to tease her.

  “I do not care!”

  The shout tore Tarass and Snow apart.

  “I leave now. This cannot wait. Abbot Bennett must be made aware of this,” Cleric Norman said with a raised voice as he entered the Great Hall alongside Rannock.

  “What is the problem now, Cleric Norman?” Tarass asked when the man reached the dais.

  “The pagan act that has taken place here will not be tolerated,” Cleric Norman threatened. “That a man having been drained of blood is unacceptable.”

  “It was no pagan act and it is none of your concern,” Tarass warned harshly.

  “It most certainly is,” Cleric Norman argued. “A concern that needs to be immediately addressed by the clergy. I do not want this poor woman,”—he nodded at Snow—“to suffer more than she already has at the hands of a barbarian. There is no telling what you may do to her.”

  “I’ve already done quite a bit to her, Cleric Norman,” Tarass said and heard his wife chuckle.

  “You’re damning her soul to hell and I will
not let that happen,” the cleric said, jutting his chin out. “I leave now to let Abbot Bennett know what depraved things go on here.”

  “It’s a bad snowstorm. He shouldn’t leave,” Rannock said.

  “I will not be kept hostage another minute in this heathen place,” Cleric Norman said.

  “You’re free to take your leave whenever you want,” Tarass said. “Though, I advise against it with the snowstorm.”

  “I’d rather take on the perils of a snowstorm than stay among pagans,” Cleric Norman spat.

  “Rannock, have his horse readied and supply him with food,” Tarass ordered.

  “I want nothing from you,” Cleric Norman snapped. “I will reach the abbey in time for prayers and supper.”

  “Not in this storm,” Rannock said.

  “I have faith,” Cleric Norman said with a raise of his chin and turned to Snow. “Mistress Snow, I pray you will come to your senses and be ready to take your leave with Abbot Bennett when he comes to collect you.”

  “Waste not your prayers, Cleric Norman. I will not leave my husband,” Snow said with a strength that left no debt that she meant it. “I pray you have a safe journey.”

  Cleric Norman turned and hurried from the keep.

  “Should I send anyone with the fool?” Rannock asked.

  Tarass shook his head. “No, the fool can take a risk with his own life, but I won’t risk the lives of any of my warriors. Send him on his way and hopefully his faith will see him safe.”

  The day continued quietly, the snow keeping most in their cottages with a few warriors seeking the company of others and drink and food in the keep. Tarass had ordered it left open to all, a safe and warm haven for those who needed it.

  It wasn’t until the next morning, when the snow had stopped, though the wind and the bitter cold continued, that news reached Tarass and Snow.

  Rannock stood at the dais as he did the day before, though this time alone, his brow scrunched heavy with worry. “Another pool of blood has been found, my lord.”

  Chapter 23

  “Don’t bother to argue with me on this, Snow, you’re not going,” Tarass said, standing. “The snow is too deep and the day too cold. You are staying here where it is warm and safe.”