Aithinne Ogilvie eyed the goblet the old woman handed her, flecks of herbs floating on the cider's surface. " You are sure?"
The healer laughed. "Now you ask that question. Thought you were set on this path, Aithinne, and naught could deter you."
Lightheaded, stomach nervous, she watched the pattern of the powder on the liquid swirl and dance in the cup. " Then it was talk. Now― "
Oonanne cackled, slowly circling her. "Now you have a braw man―naked as the day he was born―chained to the bed in the tower. He shall awaken soon. Delay not. Drink the potion. Do the deed. You must lie with him for the seven nights of the waxing moon, and more than once―as many times as he will take you. I cast the Runes."
"Och, you and those Viking ways. You are a Scot, Cailleach."
' Do not insult me, Aithinne Ogilvie, calling me that name. I may be an old woman, but I am not the crone goddess. This night is our Beltane. Great magic rises. It touches your cousin Gillian at Glenrogha. And like the reflection of a mirror, it affects you, your life as well. 'Tis what the Auld Ones will.
Still she hesitated.
Oonanne smiled, her amber eyes taking on aspects of a cat's. "Surprisingly― kenning your brothers and their soft ways―they did well fetching this one back for you. Ooooo, he is a bonnie man that stands out amongst many. "
"I don' t want many. That is what thisis about, Aithinne grumped, glaring at the silver goblet."
"You want Phelan Comyn or Dinsmore Campbell coming to Lyonglen and claiming you? Then it would be rape, for you would never consent." She kept rotating about Aithinne, fixing her with those bespelling eyes. "Of course, you could have had Robert Bruce. He paid you court."
"The new Lord Carrick just wants Lyonglen and Coinnleir Wood. The strongholds would be a sword to the back of the Comyns, an expansion of Clan Bruce's base of power. I shan't be used for men's games of intrigue. Damn them all. They care naught about me, they just want the holdings."
"Then damn them all. This way you hold the power. You wield the magic."
"But to lie with a stranger? I do not even ken his name." Aithinne's hand shook.
"Ah, my pretty lass. A man like that & a woman takes first―then asks questions. Time and tide are right." She laughed lustily. "The man is right. Aye, long of limb, built like a mighty steed. Ride him, take his seed within you, milk him dry. Learn your woman's pleasure. This night and six more. Tarry not. The moon rises. When its pale light floods the tower room, make him yours. The spell is cast. There is no turning back―for you or him."
The Second in the Dragons of Challon series
Damian St. Giles has woken up before with a sore head from imbibing too much mead, but finding himself naked and shackled to a bed is an entirely new experience. As if in a dream, a flame-haired enchantress appears and offers him a brew to ease his pain & and enflame his desire. He soon realizes this Highland beauty has given him a potent aphrodisiac and she is fully prepared to take all his body has to offer &
Lady Aithinne Ogilvie knows she must treat this man as nothing more than a stud, for that is what he is to her & a means to get her with child and thus produce an heir who will save her inheritance from ruthless Scottish warriors and greedy King Edward. Yet she cannot deny the instant bond she feels for this handsome stranger - and the feeling that it will be the prisoner in her bed who will end up laying claim to her heart.