Read Online The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) by Jonnet Carmichael - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonnet Carmichael
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happy. And so pleased to see him that his ballocks ached along with his heart.
Niall went deep inside himself, to the silent place of his warrior spirit, and prepared to win for the clan. Their son would be conceived this night. He looked to the fresco of the man's hand holding the babe, and knew the single eagle feather would soon be needed. Victory was right there in front o' him.
Mirren looked to the fresco of MacKrannan Castle. Damned if the Bard would banish her from here!
She had one chance left this night. And it would be a fine way to punish Ruaridh for not defending her. When he asked her to rouse him, she would no' be very good at it – just this once.
Ruaridh looked to the fresco of the MacKrannan village and the cottages and all the clansfolk and felt swamped with responsibility and failure.
What if Niall was killed? After what Mirren had done, the clan would more likely call Hector home to be chieftain – and Ruaridh would be the first to agree with them. For all he'd done right in his life, the one thing he'd done hellishly wrong was to wed Mirren. She was fine wi' him, giving him bairns and playing the good wife but he'd fooled himself too long on how she treated other folk. Was there anyone left for her to insult this day?
To hell with her. She'd made herself the centre o' attention for no good reason. This was nothing to do wi' her. He must put her out his mind and focus on what had to be done for his brother and the clan.
B eing told he was to couple wi' Sorcha had near knocked him flat. He could feel his face reddening yet at the news. It was short-lived. He'd remembered being a young untried lad, and their father sending a couple of wenches to teach him and Niall the business. But one of the wenches didna show up, so they'd shared the other atween them.
He'd never minded coming second to Niall in anything until then.
And he remembered describing the feeling in fair detail to his father, who laughed fit to burst and hollered to his mother to come hear about it, and them sending him another two wenches all to himself to make up for it.
Any minute now the Grandam Wisewoman would be reconvening this Tradition and he'd never felt less in the mood. Again his failings overwhelmed him. Even the thought of being inside his fantasy goddess did naught to help. Maybe his wayward thoughts about his brother's wife had come back to bite him. But he had a duty to Niall now, and to Sorcha, and to the clan. His only hope of carrying it out was to use that Rule of having a woman rouse him.
There in front of him was the painting of the clansfolk. Maybe it was a sign.
Hilde looked to the fresco of the arch and wished she were Sorcha, only because Sorcha would have Ruaridh fill her this night. Such thoughts were impure, and would not help this Tradition, but the Chamber of the Green Man was built for such dreams of love. Even the painting of the man's bare shoulder looked a bit like Ruaridh, for she'd seen him many times partly-bared for combat and swimming. It had taken all her willpower and Wisewoman training to focus on the purpose of his cleansing when she saw him naked. Having to wash his manhood with Cecily was a torture. She was sure her tongue was near half out her mouth, and scared he'd see her wanton longing.
It worried her h ow she would bear watching him couple with Sorcha. But Cecily and Oona both knew where her heart's secret lay, and had promised to compensate for her third share of Wisewoman work if they saw her distracted.
Humming the bees' song helped . It took her mind to a higher plane where the sun might shine on star-crossed lovers, and Ruaridh was still available, and would want a Wisewoman instead of a Mirren.
And when she came back to herself, she focussed her mind onto the chieftain's wife, and the arch, and the next fresco along where Sorcha was early with child. Despite all the trials to reach this point, Hilde still
Niall went deep inside himself, to the silent place of his warrior spirit, and prepared to win for the clan. Their son would be conceived this night. He looked to the fresco of the man's hand holding the babe, and knew the single eagle feather would soon be needed. Victory was right there in front o' him.
Mirren looked to the fresco of MacKrannan Castle. Damned if the Bard would banish her from here!
She had one chance left this night. And it would be a fine way to punish Ruaridh for not defending her. When he asked her to rouse him, she would no' be very good at it – just this once.
Ruaridh looked to the fresco of the MacKrannan village and the cottages and all the clansfolk and felt swamped with responsibility and failure.
What if Niall was killed? After what Mirren had done, the clan would more likely call Hector home to be chieftain – and Ruaridh would be the first to agree with them. For all he'd done right in his life, the one thing he'd done hellishly wrong was to wed Mirren. She was fine wi' him, giving him bairns and playing the good wife but he'd fooled himself too long on how she treated other folk. Was there anyone left for her to insult this day?
To hell with her. She'd made herself the centre o' attention for no good reason. This was nothing to do wi' her. He must put her out his mind and focus on what had to be done for his brother and the clan.
B eing told he was to couple wi' Sorcha had near knocked him flat. He could feel his face reddening yet at the news. It was short-lived. He'd remembered being a young untried lad, and their father sending a couple of wenches to teach him and Niall the business. But one of the wenches didna show up, so they'd shared the other atween them.
He'd never minded coming second to Niall in anything until then.
And he remembered describing the feeling in fair detail to his father, who laughed fit to burst and hollered to his mother to come hear about it, and them sending him another two wenches all to himself to make up for it.
Any minute now the Grandam Wisewoman would be reconvening this Tradition and he'd never felt less in the mood. Again his failings overwhelmed him. Even the thought of being inside his fantasy goddess did naught to help. Maybe his wayward thoughts about his brother's wife had come back to bite him. But he had a duty to Niall now, and to Sorcha, and to the clan. His only hope of carrying it out was to use that Rule of having a woman rouse him.
There in front of him was the painting of the clansfolk. Maybe it was a sign.
Hilde looked to the fresco of the arch and wished she were Sorcha, only because Sorcha would have Ruaridh fill her this night. Such thoughts were impure, and would not help this Tradition, but the Chamber of the Green Man was built for such dreams of love. Even the painting of the man's bare shoulder looked a bit like Ruaridh, for she'd seen him many times partly-bared for combat and swimming. It had taken all her willpower and Wisewoman training to focus on the purpose of his cleansing when she saw him naked. Having to wash his manhood with Cecily was a torture. She was sure her tongue was near half out her mouth, and scared he'd see her wanton longing.
It worried her h ow she would bear watching him couple with Sorcha. But Cecily and Oona both knew where her heart's secret lay, and had promised to compensate for her third share of Wisewoman work if they saw her distracted.
Humming the bees' song helped . It took her mind to a higher plane where the sun might shine on star-crossed lovers, and Ruaridh was still available, and would want a Wisewoman instead of a Mirren.
And when she came back to herself, she focussed her mind onto the chieftain's wife, and the arch, and the next fresco along where Sorcha was early with child. Despite all the trials to reach this point, Hilde still
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