The Chieftain's Yule Bride - a Highland Christmas novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #10) (16 page)

There was an earthiness about being so deep underground, surrounded by centuries of pagan and Celtic rituals and talking about fertility.  Callum was looking at her in pure want that her body was responding to.  The Elders were encouraging them to go now, to consummate their betrothal.  Her initiation into her place in the clan as the wife of the future Chief would take years, and much time spent in this library, and taking part in Traditions from these very books too.

London and the rest of the fake world seemed very far away and she didn't want it back.

"Can I see a sample Tradition from the clan's ancient past?"

Callum looked down at her and narrowed his eyes.  "What... you mean
witness
one?"

"I was thinking more of reading from a book, but if there's one coming up that I could attend?"

"Fine by me.  The Chamber of the Green Man will be in use again tonight and tomorrow.  Six couples and nine couples to complete the cycle.  Sure you'll be okay with that?"

"I've seen more couples than that at the Beltane ceremonies I used to go to with Auntie," she assured all present.  "We never took part in the physical sense, of course, but I do miss those wild and hopeful energies generated."

Callum's arm came round her waist and pulled her close.

There was more involved in marrying a MacKrannan chieftain than living in a castle.  Her life was about to get very much more interesting than worrying about bathroom suppliers and the color of cushions.     

Callum would have wed her that evening had there no' been a legal requirement to give fifteen days of notice, but it gave Freya time to have her gown especially made, and his heart near stopped working when his Yule bride walked into the castle courtyard on her auntie's arm.  The Fair Lass of Monlachan was a stunning sight in her long white floaty frock in the Regency style, exactly like the one in the portrait, with a coronet of mistletoe and ivy and a posy to match.

He'd had the same thought himself, and wore the MacKrannan garb of the Dark Lad of Argyll.

Kenzie the Wisewoman had forwarded a text to him this morning, the one she'd sent weeks ago saying
Callum Darcy – you heard it from me first. 
Clever lassies, one and all.

Proud he was of his people this day.  His parents and brother could no' have been more delighted with his choice and all he'd done to win her.  They said this lass would be a great asset to the clan and the love between them was a marvel to see.

As a qualified celebrant, Robbie the Bard married him to Freya in law.  Robbie also brought out the ancient Black Book for the MacKrannan vows, wholly necessary for a chieftain to take a bride, though happily such vows no longer needed the bride to declare herself virgin.  That one vow was disregarded anyway in instances of bride-stealing.

The staff had done little more to the castle decor than was usual for Yuletide with the greenery and holly berries and the hulking great Yule Log taking up the whole fireplace in the Banqueting Hall.  The only things that glittered were the foils covering the corks on the MacKrannan Sparkling Honey Wine – and Freya's pale blue eyes twinkling the whole day, and her blonde hair when the candlelight shone on it.

Merriment would continue for the customary three days and nights.  Right now Callum had a special Tradition to enact with Freya.  They survived the raucous customs of stripping the bride and groom and putting them to bed, and when his room finally cleared of regular clansfolk he kissed her hungrily.

"You're officially mine, my bonnie Yule bride.  Are you fine with that?"

"Oh I'm fine," she giggled, showing off her wedding ring made of pure Scots gold.  "I've missed you!"

Another kiss for that.

"Missed me, is it?  What kind of family tradition do you Harpers call it, keeping the bride away from the groom for the whole week before?"

"A different kind of bride-stealing, I suppose.  Very old-fashioned!"

"Aye, well, the pot would be calling the kettle black if I said any more... you're sure you're alright with this clan Tradition for our wedding night?"

The blush came high in her cheeks as she looked to the silent Elders in turn, standing at each corner of the four-poster bed.

"It's best.  I'll need the practise in case it comes up in any more of your Traditions."

"Our
Traditions.  They're yours too now, Mrs Freya MacKrannan."

"Ours.  And what can I say... if a princess could do one like this, so can I."

A hint of a slur in her voice there.  "Variations since then.  How much of that honeymead have you had?"

"Less than the recommended amount.  But we're doing the version your
parents
did?"

"Aye.  It's a once in a lifetime thing."

Freya would do grand.  Very few of the Traditions involved coupling or even nudity these days, though he'd had to prise her out of the Vault because she liked reading about the ones that did.  A girl thing, and very healthy, his mother and the Wisewomen assured him.

She smiled and reached up to flick his hair off his forehead, and that mere touch was enough to make his cock burn for her even in the presence of four witnesses.  Lucky they'd no' been doing this centuries ago as chieftain and virgin or that number would have multiplied by several hundred... and an open dais in the middle of the courtyard would hardly be the warmest place at Yuletide.

He stripped the sheets back to leave a clear view for the Elders.  Their wearing of formal robes for the occasion made it a bit easier for his fair lass, he hoped.  Tara's honeymoon honeymead should make it easier yet, and he offered Freya another sup before they got started.

"HEAR YE, ALL PRESENT!"
called Robbie in Bard mode, standing at the east corner.  "This Tradition replaces the time-honored Coupling of the Chieftain which lasted a thousand years and more.  It began in the year after our earldom was forfeited and continues to this day.  Its purpose is to bind the chieftain's bride to the clan and to bind the wedded couple to the Elders in particular on behalf of all the clan. The MacKrannan Tradition of the Chieftain's First Night will now commence!"

Making her come three times was the good bit.  His ancestors had termed the female climax a
bliss,
a delightful wee word to challenge a man.

Her first one was quick, for they'd been apart for a long week and his mouth too desperate to suck at her sweetness.  It took her mind off the witnesses.  Her second he made far slower, for this must prepare her for the third...     

Oh
god...
Callum had never loved her so slowly and tenderly as this... he just kept pouring more of the oil onto his hands and working it into her skin until she was utterly tormented with wanting him inside her.

Being spectacted didn't matter.  This was a formal Tradition just like her beautiful wedding... except she hadn't been on all fours for that. She looked over her shoulder and caught his eye.  The Callum glint and the grin to go with it were there while his fingers worked their magic, caressing her, teasing her, on her clit one second and her nipples the next and never letting her come and never letting her touch him.

She must stay quiet now and she'd never needed to beg aloud more.  He spread her knees wider and gave her three fingers inside but only briefly, enough to make her push her bottom back to seek more.  
Oh god...
at last the head of his cock in... and gone... and again a bit further in and gone again... and oil on her bum... and a finger in there every time his cock came partially inside her.  She couldn't have one without the other and he made her crave both.

He didn't need to do this.  Why hadn't she told him she wasn't a virgin that way?  That Zavier had regularly taken her like that, preferring it to risking her getting pregnant?

Because Callum never talked about his girlfriends.  Chivalry always.  And this new husband was far too big a man for her to allow any attempt.  The one finger he was using in her bottom now felt little different to what she'd been used to.  The manly part thrusting inside her was in a size class of its own.

Please...
her mouth formed the word and he gave her his all in both places and stayed unmoving as she started to come, clenching on his cock and gripping his finger, trying to work herself on him and behind held still.  She came anyway...
blissed
as they called it here... her whole body crying out for more of everything.

And Robbie the Bard stepped away from the bedpost then, shoving the flaps of his robes behind his elbows and ripping a packet with his teeth.

This bit would definitely be new.

Callum lay down and pulled her on top of him, sinking into her as if he'd never been gone, and this time he rode her from beneath, bucking his hips and thrusting up, loosening her... and the Bard was behind her then, and the Wisewomen chanting an incantation as he pushed past her oiled rose.

No space for them both really, not with Callum so huge.  The Bard pushed in anyway on behalf of the Elders, echoing the chieftain's rhythm and binding them to the clan as a couple.  The two hard flesh weapons fought front and rear for her victory, and her hopes of staying quiet were tested when she came so violently that they were stuck in her, neither man daring to move while she spasmed and juddered.

And then the Bard was gone from her, and Callum rolled her over and speared her deeply... and he didn't stay quiet at all when it was his turn to be oiled and bonded by the Bard.

Worse things happened at boarding school, Callum had told her, which was why he'd never been sent to one.  This was the one and only time in his life. And he submitted to it for her as she'd done for him, for these were the ways of their clan and this Tradition went with a chieftain's wedding.  A brief intrusion it was and no sign of the Bard enjoying it any more than Callum.  A mere symbolic act of the importance of the Elders no matter who gave out the orders around here.

The Bard was standing at the east corner again as if he'd never left it, and the Wisewomen's chants and incantations faded away.

Callum rose high over her then, and in three strokes was spending hotly inside her, breathing harder than she'd ever heard him.

"HEAR YE, ALL PRESENT!"  Robbie the Bard, none the quieter for his adventures.  "The MacKrannan Tradition of the Chieftain's First Night is now complete.  All meet in the Vault at noon tomorrow for the signing of the Book."

The bedroom door closed behind the four robed figures and she was alone with her new husband for the first time.  He swooped her up and carried her through to the en-suite where a vast oak-panelled bath beckoned, kissing her all the way and only letting her down so he could turn on the taps.

"Well then, my Fair Lass of Monlachan, are you any the worse for your ordeal?"

"Not really.  Not sure I could have done it without the honeymead, though.  What is
in
that stuff?"

"Nobody knows.  The Wisewomen do special concoctions for Traditions.  Big secret."

"I could
look..."

"Aye, ye could."  He gave her a kissing again as the steam billowed around them.  "Or you could never mind using the Second Sight to find out a recipe, and make a prediction for the rest of our wedding night instead."