The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) (10 page)

But t
he only lass his heart had ever been set on was Cecily, and he was hoping she might be a wee bit sweet on him too.  She'd messed up the entry code of knocks at his cottage door, and he knew it was her, because he was right behind it and heard what Hilde said.

And he'd see
n her blushing the whole walk to the waterfall and throughout the cleansing and all the walk to the Vault.  Anyone getting that flustered in his close presence was hiding something, and in her case it was unlikely to be a plot for the queen's kidnap.  And she'd hardly even been pink about the gills after the Tradition's details were told, but there were plenty other folk around by then.

Even if she would
take him, the trouble was that he'd never courted any lass.  He'd no clue what to say, or how to go about it, for all the women at the palace came to him only for bedsport and most o' them the queen's friends and kinswomen.  Never had he spent time with a lass, just their two selves.

Cicely's
fetching him for a cleansing was certainly was far below his idea of a pleasant jaunt.  Having her hands on him through a drying cloth was a far bigger ordeal to survive than any castle siege in Scotland.  But it was grand being in her company.  And watching her busy at her work.  And imagining what they would have to talk about were it just their two selves there.

If only
they shared some common interest...  Maybe he could ask some advice from Niall or Ruaridh, now that he had a long leave of absence from court.

The
subject of the fresco in front of him finally registered, and Hector brought himself back to the purpose of his Summons.  The painting was of a goddess heavy with child.  He would do this for the clan as best he could.  Sorcha was a good lass.  She deserved the Heir's Cradle filled.  Niall and Ruaridh were themselves a lot bigger than most men, and at least if he hurt her there'd be none after him.  And it came to him that he'd never known any different with bedsport than providing a service of sorts, just like he'd be doing now.

Verra soon
Cecily would see him in his full state, and watch him in this Tradition, then he'd know if there was any hope.

Cecily looked at the painting of the Green Man spewing foliage and her mind flew back to Hector, submerged past his chin in the freezing pool, swimming through the leaves and acorns she'd strewn on the surface and spitting away a few that got in his mouth
.  It took the waterfall to wash the last of the leaves off his body, and they still found some in his hair when they dried him.

On the second day in Sorcha's bedchamber she'd been told by Oona in the garderobe that he would be Summoned home, and what was to happen
in the cleansing and the Vault and the Chamber of the Green Man, and the whole list of the Rules of Engagement.  The time had come now, and she was about to see him naked again.  And more, she was about to see him fully roused, and coupling with Sorcha, and spending on the floor.  She'd save up the images in her heart to comfort her when he went back to court.

She'd had a comforting flash of the Sight when Mirren tried to sabotage the Tradition, so didn't
waste thoughts on her now.  This was Sorcha's time, and Niall's, and the clan's.

And her heart swelled with knowing that all
the Wisewomen's plantings of clarities and laughter and music and knowledge and life lessons had come to fruition in this moment. 

The Green Man
cometh...

Cecily could
feel him close.  She directed that thought full left, to where Oona the Grandam Wisewoman beheld the Chief of MacKrannan fresco.  And Oona curtsied fully to the image of Coinneach the Chief who created this Chamber of the Green Man many centuries past and had stood side by side with him in the paintings ever since.    

Oona turned around on her star.

"The circle is called," she said, very quietly, and watched the faces of the other eight as they did her bidding.  Time without talking was a good thing.  The circle would know itself and its people better now.  She had debated on asking the participants again if they had any questions and decided nay, best leave it now, for it would only take thoughts back to Mirren's outburst.  These lads had taken part in plenty Traditions.  They'd be fine.

She waited until all was calm and all had done their looking at each other.  Hector loo
ked the arch up and down, she noted, and then looked Sorcha up and down as if gauging measurements.  Ever the soldier, ever the protector.

"The three men and the Tall Wife of this Tradition, I address ye.  Go forth to the arch."

Each walked from their stars the several paces needed, bringing Sorcha to one side of the arch and the three men to the other.

"Chieftain, I address ye. Bring out yer sgian-dubh and cut yer Tall Wife."

He fished under his belt and cut Sorcha's hand with the knife, making only the wee nick on the palm required to draw blood.

"Cut yer brother and yer cousin, and then yerself."

When all palms were cut, the Grandam Wisewoman stepped forward and gathered all four hands under the arch, matching each palm with the three others until all their blood was mingled.  She moved the four hands into an interlinked circle, each fist grasping the wrist of the next.

"I swear by the
MacKrannan bloodline that I do willingly honor…"

The four repeated
the words of the oath, each swearing to honor the ancestors, the Chief, the chieftain and the heirs yet to be born by taking part in this Fertility Tradition within the Chamber of the Green Man.

From Oona's sleeve appeared a white cloth
with which she cleaned the blood away from hands and knife.

"Ye are all clear on the Rules of Engagement?
  And that none must speak again until the remedy is complete?"

As each said Aye
, she motioned them back to their stars and returned to her own. 

The Wisewomen at Sorcha's sides began humming the bee's song.

"Chieftain, I address ye.  Lift up yer star and bring what ye find to the arch.  The blessings and powers o' the Green Man be wi' ye this night."

Puzzled, Niall stepped to the side and pulled the carving loose.  In the
hollow underneath he found a little crockpot and lifted its lid away.  Honey.  And warm at that.

"
Tall Wife, I address ye.  Leave yer robe on the Venus Star and go to yer husband.  Begin the Remedy for Wives Too Tall by putting yer hands on the arch when ye are ready.  The blessings and powers o' the Green Man be wi' ye this night."

The magic of the chamber gave Sorcha no care for
modesty.  She stepped off the star and pulled the robe over her head, her nipples aching afresh with the friction of the passing fabric and her flaxen hair flying down her back to tease the cheeks already hot from the fire.

Niall
had his shirt off before Sorcha's robe hit the floor.  And as he watched this goddess slowly come to him, he unbuckled the belt to loose his great-kilt and lobbed the bundle of garments over to his own star.

One more step would bring them together, all clothing and restraint left in the past
.

Sorcha was too eager for the
Tradition to accept the embrace he offered.  Her outstretched arms were for the arch, not her husband.  Her hands met its sides, just less than her full armspan, and she took irrevocable hold.  Moving her grip upwards through the leaves to assess the comfort of the curve, she saw the appeal of her situation in Niall's eyes.

The bees' song grew louder as Niall reached for the crockpot of honey.

He hadna been sure… but now he knew exactly what the supply was intended for.

His thu
mb lightly smeared her lips, and his mouth followed to slowly lick the runny nectar off.  Sorcha gasped at the touch of his tongue, and strained for his kiss, but he was gone, only for both his thumbs to return with honey to smear a line along her chin.  This time his mouth latched on and she turned her head to encourage his gathering up the nectar.  His mouth did not leave her as he smeared more honey on her ear and licked it away, his hot breath sending a tremor through her.  Then he fed her the honey, and she sucked his fingers clean.  He gave her the lightest of kisses and reached again to the pot.

Forbidden to speak, Sorcha could not tell him the places she craved the honey
, knowing now that his wicked mouth would follow.  She thrust her breasts at him urgently, but his thumbs instead made lines from her grasping fingers along the insides of her arms.  She needed more on her lips, and his full long kisses, yet he reached round to smear the honey on her nether cheeks.  Why was he teasing her so?  Could he not see how afire this was making her, how she ached all the more for him to be inside her?

Niall knew fine the state his wife was in, for he'd
had her from virgin and discovered every one of her sensitive places and just how much she could stand.  For many moons they had played like this, once even with a pile of wild strawberries he'd put in some interesting hollows, until her desperation for a bairn had changed their bedplay.  Always she wanted him inside her right away and emptying his ballocks as quick as she could make it happen, and then reviving him for more.  More often than not he'd been sent behind her for his first Spend, for that was how bairns were easiest gotten.

He'd missed this
.  The stoking up of the passion until it became unbearable, until all sense of place and time was gone.  Sorcha needed this reminding of how it could be again.

She could no' dominate this coupling wi' her
interrupting pleas for just the right conceiving angle, and the putting aside of her own joy in the need for him to Spend.  His cock throbbed hard, even without her eager rousing.  This time he'd be the one deciding who was ready.  One position.  One bliss for her.  One Spend for him.  And he'd be in charge of it all.

He felt her
tremble as he licked and nuzzled at her nether cheeks, and he took his sweet time about it before smearing the honey in far too wide a circle round her breast than she'd like.  And he licked and sucked and watched the muscles of her belly contract in her silent scream, then he dipped in the pot to draw another circle inside the last.  He teased her into thinking her nipple would be next, and instead wiped honey to the side of her mound and went down on one knee to suck it away.  And while he was there his fingers stole up to her other breast, and traced circles around it without touching its peak.

Niall could see her hands fighting the constraint of
holding the arch now, and he still kept bringing the nectar to every part of her body… except the bits that craved it the most.

The pot was empty, and she was n
early there.  Her head was back, her eyes closed, and her lovely hair swinging behind her as she flew.  She was too close to coming for him to be touching her wee bud anyway.

There
came a giddiness in his head that bade him think he'd eaten overly much of the honey.  And in the corner of his vision, past two of the Wisewomen, the painting of the Green Man seemed to glow brighter in the light of the beeswax candle…

Deep inside his mind
grew a knowing that this should be a primal coupling, a lesson for Sorcha and himself in recalling their earthly roots as they rose to fly among the stars and bring their son into creation.  She moved her feet wider apart, the only way she had to go begging her need, and he lifted her legs one after another into the crooks of his arms.  He used his cock to torment her wetness as she dangled helplessly from the arch, lulling her to and fro until he felt her relax the little way that told him the time was now.