Read Online The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) by Jonnet Carmichael - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jonnet Carmichael
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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
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
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