A Highlander Christmas (23 page)

Daegan had almost given up hope when he heard the soft foot treads behind him. Whirling around, he saw Isobel standing there in a lovely emerald green ball gown.

“Will this do?” she asked, holding out her skirts. “I am not certain what one wears to a lanamnas.”

He ran to her and swept her up in his arms and twirled her around. He kissed her soundly and hugged her tight. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “I want a life with you.”

“And your family?”

“They’re all so happy and living the life they want. They’ll understand. I wrote them so they wouldn’t worry.”

“Do you trust me, then?”

“Of course.”

“Then close your eyes,
muirnín.
”

She did, and when he told her to open them, they were in a candlelit chamber before an altar that was covered with the same blue velvet cloth. The dirk was there and the chalice, as well as a lit candle and long piece of white cloth.

Isobel couldn’t hide her huge smile as Daegan bent down and brushed his lips against her mouth. “You take my breath away. You truly are a goddess of the moon.”

For so many years she thought love would never be hers. Yet here she was, surrounded by Daegan’s love and a new world waiting to be explored.

Daegan reached for her hand and placed their hands palm to palm. “Do we not need any witnesses?” she asked.

“No, this is our eternal vow. No other need bear witness to what will bind us forever.
Anam a Anam,
soul to soul. Tonight, two shall become one,” he said. Picking up the dirk, he placed it tip down, inside the chalice. “The athame represents the male and the element of air, the chalice is the female and signifies the element of water. Together they symbolize the sacred union that we will enter into tonight.”

He was watching her, waiting for her acceptance. “ ’Tis strange for you, I know, but for my kind this is a sacred moment of the ceremony. It is known as the Great Rite, the coming together of man and woman, air and water. The athame is the phallus, and the cup, the womb. ’Tis symbolic of the union we will share.”

“I think it’s beautiful, Daegan.”

With a smile he lifted the length of white cloth. “With this bond, I shall entwine you so that you are fated to me and I to you, for eternity. Let this bond be a symbol of our merging.”

As the fabric wrapped around their hands, Isobel felt the unstoppable pull of her body to Daegan’s. Their energies mingled, then slowly began to merge, becoming one.

Daegan kept his gaze focused on her face as he continued to wind the cloth around their hands. “I offer to you, Isobel, my life. My soul. I offer to shield you from anything or anyone that would harm you. I offer you my fidelity, my honor. My unending love.”

The first warm tear trickled down her cheek, and Daegan caught it with his thumb. “With all that I am, I will protect you, provide for you. I will love you in the brightness of light and the cover of darkness. I will love you for eternity.”

The lace was tied, their wrists held together tightly. As Daegan’s words rang in her ears, Isobel felt his energy tugging at her, pulling her in so that she could truly feel his love for her. She was surrounded by his love and desire.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his mouth against her fingers, kissing them. “You’re truly mine now, and nothing shall tear you away from me.
Nothing.”

Isobel was rendered mute for several seconds by his beautiful declaration. “I don’t know what to say. This is,” Isobel swallowed hard. “This is new to me, Daegan. But know that . . . that I will promise to learn the ways of your world. That I will be a good wife to you and make you a comfortable home. However, I don’t imagine the skills that I’ve been taught will work in your world. Do you hold balls for hundreds of people and dinners for three dozen here in Annwyn?”

“You worry,
muirnín.
You needn’t.”

“It’s just that . . . I do not know what to say other than I am not happy unless I am with you, and a future without you seems bleak and lifeless. I’ve felt you as a presence in my life since I was six, and to no longer have that would be like starving for air. I love you!”

He hugged her close, savoring her. “You undo me with your vows,” he whispered, “but while I adore what you have given me, I seek one thing more from you.”

Pulling away, she stared into his eyes. “What?”

“Would you give me the vows of a human?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“If we were in your church, in your world, what vows would you say to me?”

She smiled and curled her fingers around his. “That I would love and honor you until the day I die. That I would be a helpmate to you, and care and comfort you in sickness and health.”

“And?” he prodded.

“I suppose I would have to obey you,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed and kissed her fingertips. “No, the other one, something about your body.”

“Oh,” she whispered, pressing closer. “With my body, I thee worship.”

His eyes turned the deepest shade of purple. “I have longed to hear you say those words. Will you, Isobel?”

“Yes.”

Daegan’s mouth skated softly down her neck, then over her cheek to her mouth. Their lips met and they kissed, bathed in a shaft of moonlight. Slowly at first, then more eagerly, their tongues touching, stroking.

“I want to make this so beautiful for you,
muirnín.
”

“It already is, because it’s with you.”

He smiled, cupped her face in his palm, and dragged his mouth across her cheek. “Close your eyes.”

She did and felt herself being lifted in his arms. “Open them.”

Her lashes fluttered. Before her was an enormous bed, fit for a prince. It was draped in dark blue and scattered with plush pillows.

He put her down and she reached for him, sliding her free hand up and along his hard abdomen. Her gaze skimmed along his body, all muscled and beautiful. He was hers now. Nothing could tear them apart.

He brought their tied hands up and placed her fingers against his cheek. “Touch me,
muirnín.
” he said in a voice that was little more than a broken whisper. “Touch me.”

Need had replaced the masterful tone of his voice, and with shaking fingers, Isobel caressed the arch of his strong brow, down to his cheeks which were already starting to stubble with a night beard. The roughness of it grazed her fingertips, heightening her senses. She liked Daegan with an evening beard, she decided. She liked him looking hard and strong. It made her feel secure and safe in a new world where she felt so out of place.

His breathing was hard when she reached the corner of his mouth. With a gentle glide of her fingers, she brushed them over his lips, startled by the softness of them. Isobel closed her eyes when she felt him reverently kiss her fingers. The strange energy she sensed in him, formerly an even hum, spiked as she touched him.

“I need your touch—so much.”

His head dropped down and he rested his forehead in the crook of her neck. She felt the tips of his fingers glide down her throat. “Don’t stop,” he begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

With her palms, she traced the sculpted contours of his shoulders. He shuddered, let out a low moan of utter pleasure. The energy increased, humming along his body, flickering along his muscles. It made her feel bold, and she pressed her body against his.

“You feel so good,” she whispered, running her finger down his spine to the waistband of his pants. “So strong beneath my hands.”

“You make me feel strong.”

The longer she touched him, the more the energy seemed to flow between them. It was pouring off him in waves, and Isobel knew that this loving would be like nothing they had ever shared before.

She kissed his shoulder, licked his skin, tasting the salt of him. Her mouth lowered, brushing over his nipple. She flicked the tip of her tongue over it, felt it grow hard. She heard his breath catch, felt his hands comb into her hair and clutch at her curls. And still the energy ebbed and flowed. Like waves on the shore, it came in, then out, drawing them closer and closer, pulling them together so that they were bound to one another.

He moaned and pushed against her, pressing his manhood into her belly. His mouth found hers and he kissed her. Slowly, reverently. Like a tender lover he took her mouth, showing her that this night was not about lust, but love.

Over and over she brushed her fingers along his back, delighting in the shudders that wracked his body, loving the way he seemed to cling to her. Emboldened, she kissed his neck and flicked her tongue along his skin, tasting his flesh.

Daegan could barely think. Isobel’s hands, so small and delicate, skated over his shoulders, building his passion, inflaming his body until he thought he might come. She drew him to her and he let himself go. Let himself be taken in by her.

Without breaking the contact of their bodies, he picked her up and placed her on the bed so that she was kneeling before him, looking up at him with her big blue eyes.

Trailing his fingers down the smooth column of her throat, he watched as they reached her breasts that were rising above the bodice of her ball gown, then down lower, to the clan pin that was cradled between her breasts.

Lowering his head, he inhaled the heady and lusty scent of her, listened to the erotic cadence of her heart beating urgently beneath her breast. The scent of her passion-i nfused blood was so strong it overtook all his senses. He could no longer hear, could no longer see because of the passion that was blinding him. He could only smell, and the erotic scent grew stronger and stronger until his own body was cloaked with it.

His hands, as if they had a mind of their own, reached for her bodice and pulled it down, revealing her breasts—swollen, heavy. Waiting for his touch. He lifted her, pulled the gown free from beneath, and sat her back on the bed, naked and beautiful.

Gently he pulled at the end of the cloth tying their wrists together, freeing them, then wrapped it around his wrist where he could see it.

And then she began touching him, rubbing her palms along his sensitive skin, loving him with gentle caresses.

Together they touched each other’s bodies, quietly listening to the hitching of breaths and the softness of their moans. When he cupped her breast in his palm, he felt the stab of need snake through her body down to the juncture of her thighs, where she was wet and smelling sweet for him.

“You need me,” he said as he nuzzled the tender spot beneath her ear. “I can feel it, that need.”

Her head tipped back and her hair fell down from its pins, spilling out behind her. Daegan had never seen a more erotic or beautiful sight than his wife beneath the moonlight, her eyes closed, her lips parted in ecstasy as he gently fondled her breast.

Needing to taste her, to feel her energy inside him, he took her breast into his mouth. Loving her slowly, he watched her uninhibited response. Seeing her arch, hearing her cry of pleasure made his blood roar in his veins, made the electricity in his body arc wildly.

His erection bobbed, seeking pleasure against her lush belly. He pushed once, feeling the swollen tip of him being cushioned by her soft skin.

“You’ve made me your disciple,
muirnín.
I’d follow you to hell, you know.”

“Make me your wife, Daegan,” she asked as she rocked against him. “Make it real.”

He followed her down as she slid her legs around his hips, opening herself for him—welcoming him inside her.

She was beautiful there: dark and wet, slick in the moonlight, ready for his penetration. He slid his thumb down her folds, feeling her slickness coating his skin. She writhed, widening her hips, lifting her bottom.

Her gaze found his and she smiled, opening her arms to him. “Come to me.”

In a moment of sheer weakness, he fell onto her, seeking her love. It was a possession he’d never experienced before. A passion he never could have believed existed.

He slid into her, slow and easy, watching the wonder on her face as he filled her full. His hands came beneath her, cupping her bottom, angling her so that he could penetrate her deeper with each slow, measured thrust. And she took him in, her thighs clutched his hips, gripping him, pulling him farther into her.

In the quiet of his chamber, hidden away, they made love. There were no words. Only gentle caresses and the sighs of lovers whispered between them. It was magic, it was sacred, and Daegan knew, as he found completion deep inside her, that he had at last found his redemption—in his wife’s arms.

As the energy crested within Daegan, Isobel felt hers rise. She clung to him, holding him in, but then it left, that beautiful energy, and became something dark and cold.

“Cailleach!”

Daegan pulled away from her and reached for the dirk that was on the altar. Covering her with the blankets, he spread his arms wide, as if he was protecting her.

“You do not intend to use that sacred knife on me, do you?”

A woman appeared then, seemingly out of a mist. She was tall and shapely, her long hair silvery blond. She was stunningly perfect, yet cold as ice.

“You have made a grievous error by bringing her. Did you think I wouldn’t know? Did you think to hide her from me?”