The Last Celtic Witch [Celtic Series Book 1] Read online

Straightening, she swallowed the lump and breathed deeply. Her mouth still watered from the tangy herbs and she glanced with longing at the poultry in her hands. Would she have enough time to chew one more bite?

  Throwing caution away, she ripped into the delectable flesh one more time. Chewing faster, she rubbed her chin and shoved the chicken leg into the front pocket of her kirtle. Covering her mouth, she ran back to the spot where she had originally been delivered and stood deathly still.

  The door behind her opened with a bang and Adela jumped, but did not look. The sounds of boisterous men echoed off the walls while soldiers filed into the great hall and sat down. Adela did not look at anyone, but kept her eyes downcast and her hands clasped behind her back, still rapidly chewing the food in her mouth. Why did she take such a big bite? Curse her appetite!

  The soldiers did not pay much attention to her, and for the first time in her life she was happy to be homely. Beyond being curious about why she stood in the middle of the hall, they ignored her to satisfy their own hunger.

  Adela had almost swallowed the last of the meat when a large man with flaming hair and beard circled her. Adela stopped chewing and avoided eye contact.

  "Is this the witch?” he bellowed behind her.

  "Aye,” the blond soldier answered from his table.

  "What be your name?” the man asked, his tone intimidating.

  "You are scaring the lass, Dougal.” A familiar rich, timbered voice echoed through the hall.

  With one last gulp, Adela swallowed and looked up at the man about to sit in the chieftain's high chair.

  Her lips parted with surprise as she stared blankly at the angelically handsome man garbed in black. That was no laird sitting before her. It was Phillip, an ordinary soldier who had taken her maidenhead. Heat flooded her cheeks when he appeared to recognize her.

  Adela swallowed again, but this time from nervousness. How could he be the Highland laird? His dungeons were in her vision and his bailey would hold the stake that would see her burned to death. Had fate thrown them together for a reason?

  She ached all over as if an invisible hand plunged through her chest and squeezed her heart. What was this feeling? Adela looked down at her clammy hands and wiped them on her kirtle. Suddenly her mouth went dry and she looked back at the chieftain, her heart thumping. Could this be the man she was meant to be with? Not only the father of her child, but the love she had waited for all her life?

  "She smells!” Dougal accused.

  Adela frowned and edged away from the strange man.

  "Chicken! I smell chicken!” he announced, as if expecting applause. When blank stares from everyone were his only response, he added, “She has been eating chicken."

  "Dougal...” said the chieftain.

  Dougal grabbed Adela's hand and checked her pockets. Finding the lump, he pulled out the chicken bone and held it high in the air. “She is not only a witch but a thief!"

  "I ... I...” Adela wondered how she was going to explain herself.

  "The lass is obviously hungry. Give the food back to her and sit down!"

  Shoving the meat back in her kirtle, Dougal turned and went to sit by the chieftain.

  "Not here, Dougal. Find another seat for the eve's meal."

  With the chieftain's displeasure evident in the slash of his eyebrows, everyone in the hall watched the furious trainer pivot and walk away.

  Phillip's intense blue gaze settled on Adela. “I have searched e'erywhere for you. Please, come sit by me and let us eat."

  Adela blinked rapidly, her mind in a haze with mixed emotions. One moment she prepared herself to be thrown into the dark dungeons to await her death. In the next she stood in front of the bonny soldier with whom she had once been intimate. Nae, not a soldier. A chieftain who held her life in his hands.

  "If you prefer, you may dine in the village,” he offered.

  "Nae, nae. I am content to dine with you,” she said, and slowly walked to the high table. The closer she got to the chieftain the more her hands shook.

  He rose and pulled out the chair for her to sit, and Adela smiled at him. His height and muscled body were as she remembered. Tall and powerful.

  The usual peaceful energy surrounding her suddenly turned erratic as if she were being charged with a lightning bolt. Adela took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and settled into the seat beside the man who knew every inch of her body.

  "Adela, where did you go?” he asked, serving her a trencher of food. “But first, tell me from where you hail, so I do not lose you again."

  Her attention went to the morsel he dished, watching the way his long fingers picked up a piece of bread and added it to her plate. “I ... I come from the MacAye clan."

  The chieftain smiled at her stuttering. Adela guessed he was used to women making fools of themselves over him. She frowned, wishing she had the same confidence she had at the pond.

  "Your accent is slightly English, but you have a Scottish name?"

  "Aye, I am traveled, and my mother was Scottish. I never knew my father."

  "Where is your mother now?"

  "She is dead,” Adela answered, her eyes lowering.

  "Are there no others in your clan?"

  "Nae."

  He covered her hand. “So, you are alone?"

  "Aye."

  "Then allow me to introduce myself. I am—"

  "Laird Phillip Roberts, Highland Chieftain. I know who you are. You are the last of the Roberts clan. If you do not marry and produce an heir, your lands will be considered easy for the taking."

  "Aye, you have the right of it.” He shifted closer to her, his eyes holding a dubious look. “So you are a ... witch?"

  "Aye, I am a ... witch,” she said in the same tone as the laird's.

  "I see,” he said and looked away.

  "Do you?” she replied, an edge to her voice. “If you had known I was a witch, you would never had made love to me, is that the way of it?"

  "Nae, I mean, aye. I do not know."

  Although she was not surprised, her heart ached from his answer. “Well, let us start with something you do know. Why did you bring me here if not to prosecute me for being a witch?"

  The chieftain shifted on his seat to face her. “I do not believe in witches, but I am in dire need of help. Therefore I find myself opening my mind to any possibility."

  Adela nodded, finding a small measure of respect for someone willing to learn about what others scorned. “Please go on."

  "I would like you to make me a love potion so Lady Torella will accept my offer of betrothal and end this senseless feuding,” Phillip replied, curious why his heart raced with uncertainty, as if her opinion of him mattered on this subject.

  His gaze roamed over her brown hair pulled back into a tight braid. One he wanted desperately to undo and run his fingers through. He closed his eyes tightly then opened them. Images of her innocent, naked body opened up to pleasure as he plundered her warm, slick—

  "Are you listening?” Creases etched around Adela's warm honey eyes.

  "I pray your pardon?"

  "It would also give you extra land, strengthening your position as laird,” she said, her tone even.

  "Aye, it would, but that is not the reason why I want the potion,” Phillip replied. He paused to draw a breath and shifted on the chair to ease the snug fit of his swollen staff. Resisting the urge to explain himself to her, he gruffly asked, “Will you help me?"

  "Nae."

  "Nae?"

  Nodding she turned away and started to eat. Phillip studied her profile. Although most would say Adela was plain in face, he found her looks enticing. A pert freckled nose gave her cheeks a sweet appeal as did her finely sculpted lips. But it was her golden-brown eyes that spoke of an awakened passion only he had discovered. His heart swelled with possessiveness. If only he could offer her a hand fasting. Living with the spirited Adela would certainly be a life free from tedium. Shaking his head free of foolish daydreams, he cleared his throat. He must
remain focused on duty.

  "Is it that you ... you can not make a love potion or that you will not make a love potion?” he asked, irritated he was now the one stuttering.

  Lifting a piece of bread to her soft pink lips, she sighed and replaced it on her trencher. “To every potion or spell that is cast, there is an opposite effect which occurs elsewhere in the world."

  "I do not understand,” Phillip confessed.

  "The world is in balance and Fate uses her divine power to keep it that way. If I were to cast a fortune spell, I would be temporarily wealthy with a grand castle like yours, but one day a warlord might burn it to the ground. Then I would be left with exactly what I had before I cast the spell, thus making the world balanced."

  Phillip frowned. “So, if you were to make me a love spell, my betrothed would end up hating me?"

  "Aye, or she could fall in love with another while being married to you. The spells do not always work out the way they were planned. There have varied consequences. If your fate was to love a ... another ... then you would love another, yet Lady Torella would still be in love with you."

  Phillip looked into her eyes, his brow furrowed. “I will take that risk."

  "I will not,” Adela answered simply, knowing she was being unreasonable, but she could not suppress the twisting in her stomach. He was the chosen one. How could he make love to her and plan to marry another? Could ... could she be jealous?

  "Many lives are at stake. I must have peace."

  "I will not give it to you!” she declared vehemently and pushed to her feet. “A woman's heart is not to be trifled with."

  Phillip rose next to her. “I command you to give it to me!"

  "Nae!"

  "Guards! Take Mistress Adela to her chambers,” he ordered. “I will not let you leave until I have the potion.” He stood so close to her he could almost kiss her supple, stubborn lips. An uncontrollable force caused him to lean toward her.

  "Then I will never leave,” she whispered.

  He felt her breath, sweet and warm. It had a powerful effect on his senses. For some reason his heart lightened to hear her say those words. Shaking his head, he turned away from Adela, eager to put distance from the lass who had him wondering if indeed he was losing his mind.

  * * * *

  Phillip opened the oak door to his chamber to find a raven perched on the wide four-post bed. The bird jumped with fright and flew out the window leaving behind a long black feather fluttering to the ground.

  Bending down, Phillip picked up the feather and studied it. This was indeed a day of unusual happenings. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached for the red wine on the side table and drank until his thirst was quenched.

  He sighed with resignation. The meeting with Adela had not gone as planned. Why was she being so stubborn? Did she not see there was more at stake than his feelings for her? Phillip groaned and massaged his temples. His head pounded with painful jabs. Suddenly his eyelids became heavy and his vision blurred. His body heated with an unusual erotic sensation. He licked his dry lips and tugged at his tunic. Why did his clothes feel so tight?

  Phillip stumbled to the bed and lay down. While ripping off his tunic, he used his feet to push off his boots, each one landing on the fur rug with a thud.

  The room began to spin, and he felt light-headed and ill. An overwhelming need to be naked hastened his fingers to undo his chausses. He was completely erect and his skin felt like it was on fire. He lay back into the bedding and closed his eyes, willing his mind and body to calm.

  Blurred visions of a woman with raven hair and jade eyes swirled in his head. Her stunning features slowly became clear as she laughed and danced seductively in a red gown. Its material glowed like fire, caressing her body. She ripped open the gown, revealing her breasts and lifted each full globe to her pink tongue to lick. Then she raised her gown to her waist to show a marvelous thatch of black, curly hair.

  Phillip's breathing quickened. He writhed on the bed, reaching out to her with a need beyond one he had ever felt before. He had to have her. He must have her!

  She came closer and closer until she floated over him, yet did not touch him. “Do you want me?” she whispered.

  "Aye."

  "Then take me!"

  He grabbed her hips and pulled her down to impale her onto his aching member. Her flaming gown settled around him, scorching his skin. Caring not that his flesh burned, he continued to plunge his cock inside her.

  She fondled her large breasts and threw her head back while riding him like an animal. Her laughter sounded odd in his ears, like a cat's cry. Phillip was entranced with her beauty and the feel of his manhood while she manipulated its length, clenching her inner muscles.

  She leaned down to look at him, but her dark, stunning face changed to Adela's youthful beauty. Sweet and passionate, she moaned with pleasure and smiled at him.

  "I need you, my love,” Adela said the words softly.

  His body tensed and buried himself to the hilt. He wanted Adela more than any other woman. She cried her pleasure, bucking above him with abandonment while he groaned loudly, exploding within her.

  Smiling with content, he reached up to kiss Adela; her earthy, nut-brown hair framed a face reflecting an expression of sexual exhaustion. Just before he kissed her, Adela's face changed back into the mysterious woman with sinister green eyes.

  He lay back, confused.

  She slapped him across the face and laughed before vanishing.

  Complete darkness fell over his eyes and took him into oblivion.

  When Phillip awoke from deep slumber, the early morning sunlight filtered through his window. He jolted upright in bed and found himself naked with warm juices on his satisfied manhood. Touching himself, he tasted the juices.

  "Adela!"

  Pushing to his feet, he quickly donned his clothes and opened the door. “No witch is going to enchant me!” he growled, and stormed through the hallways toward the guest chamber of the not-so-innocent captive.

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  Chapter 6

  "Hmm, Phillip is a good lover,” Torella purred to her timid serving maid while she stretched before the full-length wall mirror. “But I am in need of a something more brutal.” Tilting her chin up, she felt the presence of the raven before he swooped onto her window ledge and hopped into the chamber.

  "Good eve, Master Dougal.” Raising her arms, she faced the servant to help her lift the ruined ruby gown over her head.

  The raven's cries echoed around the dark chamber as it transformed into a red-bearded man, masculine and naked.

  "Good eve, milady,” Dougal replied. He grabbed the servant's arm. Snatching Torella's sheer black nightgown from the girl's hands, he threw the garment on the floor.

  "I rather think garments will just get in our way,” he said, his voice husky with lust.

  His hungry eyes roamed over the sorceress, her body firm and slender. She had satin-smooth skin and plump breasts with rose-tipped nipples, while the dark juncture of her thighs beckoned Dougal with the promise of paradise.

  A wicked smile slid across Torella's exotic face. “Leave us.” She dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand.

  Her warm palm raked over his red hairy chest and she slowly rubbed her hips against his engorged flesh. “Did you take pleasure in watching me fuck your friend?"

  Dougal closed his eyes, enjoying the effect her hands had on him. “Nae, it should have been me,” he said, pouting, his red beard spiked over his upper lip.

  "You must learn to share. My appetite is too great for just one man.” Her hands slid lower to clasp his enlarged shaft. “And do you like your new power?"

  "Aye, I do, milady,” he whispered.

  "E'ery time you take the raven's form, a bird dies to give you its life force."

  "'Tis a small sacrifice,” Dougal answered. His rough hands cupped her breasts while his thumbs rubbed her erect nipples.

  "I agree."

  Clutching his manhoo
d, she led him to the bed and pushed him down. “Since you watched me having pleasure, ‘tis only fair I watch you having pleasure."

  Dougal smiled. “Aye, you have a lass in mind?"

  "Lay face down on the bed and I will call in my servant,” Torella said, her lips twisted into a smirk.

  Turning over, Dougal laid face down, his thick hardness pressed into the black furs as he imagined having two women in bed.

  The door opened and closed, but Dougal could not see the servant the sorceress chose.

  Torella stood at the base of the bed. Her eyes glided over taut buttocks with a sprinkling of red hair and a hard chiseled back, delicious muscles formed from swinging an axe. She felt the familiar stirrings of dark magick filling her body, mingling with sexual desires. With the flick of her wrist, her lover's feet were bound to the bed by an invisible force.

  "Why do you bind me, milady?"

  "I would not want you to spoil my entertainment with your inhibitions,” she replied, her tone dripping with disdain. “Take him,” she ordered her servant.

  Dougal twisted around to see the young male whose tryst with Torella he had interrupted. He held his huge erection and smiled with vengeful glee.

  "Nae, I am not a woman!” Dougal roared, thrashing about, his buttocks remaining exposed.

  "Come, come, now,” Torella coaxed. “Do not tell me you have never wondered what it would be like to be plundered in the arse?"

  Dougal remain quiet, knowing it was useless to deny it; she would only see through his protests.

  Torella sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hands down his back. Her sexual, mystical touch burned his skin, its heat painful and pleasurable at the same time. Once touched by Torella, the cravings for more never ceased.

  "My personal servant, Evan is an expert lover.” She shifted her weight to lean over Dougal.

  She sucked on his earlobe while her hands snaked across his backside. Meanwhile, the servant behind him lightly bit the supple flesh on Dougal's buttocks, slowly increasing his hardness once more. Using two fingers, the servant ran them down the cleft of Dougal's arse, playfully tapping the unyielding entrance.

  Dougal moaned with yearning. Never had he felt this type of caress. His body throbbed for more. Hoping Torella would not humiliate him by making him beg, Dougal closed his eyes and enjoyed the erotic sensation.